Page 28 of Under the Tulip Tree
Intense, red-hot pain shot through my entire body. I gasped, agony tearing through my abdomen with the slight movement. Bright stars filled my eyes, blocking out the cabin.
Have mercy, what happened to me?
“Help.”
My whispered plea barely reached my own ears. I opened my eyes again, the stars fading. A shaft of sunshine came through a place in the log wall where the chinking was missing, telling me it was daytime. Everyone would be out in the tobacco fields, where I should’ve been. Why wasn’t I?
“Moss?” My lips cracked, and I tasted blood when I ran my tongue across them. “Moss?”
Stillness followed.
A bird trilled outside.
No one answered. I would need to get off the floor myself.
Wave after wave of excruciating pain invaded every crevice of my being as I inched my body up into a kneeling position. My middle and ribs hurt something fierce, and they wouldn’t support me without sending me into agony.Islumped against the wall by the door, crying like a newborn baby. I had no idea what terrible fate had befallen me. All I could do was wait for Moss.
The next time my eyes opened, I found Bessy’s young face close to mine.
“Thank the Lawd.” My cabinmate turned to someone out of my view. “She wakin’ up.”
I hoped it was Moss. It was not.
Ophelia lumbered into my sight. It hurt to look up at her, but she didn’t seem inclined to come down to my level as Bessy had.
She shook her head. “You a fool, girl.” There was no sympathy in her thick voice. “I tol’ you Moss weren’t good for you, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look at the mess you gone and got yo’self into.”
I blinked, trying to sort out her scolding words. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Ophelia frowned. She and Bessy exchanged a look.
“Moss.” It took all my strength to speak. The women didn’t seem motivated to tell me what happened. I just wanted Moss to come and carry me to our bed, where I could sleep away the pain.
“He be dead, girl. You know that. Them dogs tore him to pieces.”
I stared at the woman, thinking her mad. Moss wasn’t dead. He—
It all rushed back to me then.
Our escape. The gunshot. The dogs. The beating.
The mournful sound that emitted from me would forever echo in my soul. I remembered. I remembered it all.
Ophelia ignored my cries, my shrieks of pain, when she and Bessy grasped me by the arms and dragged me across the room. I must have blacked out, because the next time I woke, I was in bed. Alone. Darkness had descended, and the small cabin was quiet except for the occasional light snores from the other occupants.
I lay there thinking about Moss, wishing I’d died with him. God must truly hate me if he left me here, broken and bruised, without Moss. The Almighty had taken from me time and time again—Mammy, my babies—to the point I quit believing in him altogether. The happiness I’d found with Moss ignited a spark of hope deep inside me, in a place I’d thought long dead. Hope that perhaps God was real and he might find me worthy of the love Mammy had always talked about.
As I lay there in misery, with my body and my heart shattered, I knew better. If God was real, he was a vengeful, angry god. Mammy’d been wrong to say he was love. What kind of love was it to enslave people simply because of the color of their skin? Love didn’t kill. Love didn’t maim.
The small flame that had ignited in my heart when Moss came into my world blew out. I stared into the darkness and knew.
If I lived through this, I would never again allow myself to hope.
For anything.
CHAPTERELEVEN
The front door to Frankie’s home opened, letting in a flood of sunshine. A pretty young black woman entered, carrying two sacks of groceries. She came to an abrupt halt seeing me there with Frankie.
