Page 67 of Queen

"Thank you, Massa," Isaac said. They stood'in silence for a moment, not

  knowing how to end it, not knowing how to say good-bye.

  Jass nodded, and moved on toward the house.

  "Good luck to you, Massa," Isaac called after him. Jass did not look

  back, and Davy could hardly believe his good fortune.

  QUEEN 553

  "it true!" he cried softly. "We's free! Massa didn't even try an' stop

  us!"

  "Hush yo mouth," Isaac snapped. He never took his eyes off Jass, but

  watched the sad, lonely man walk on up to the big house. It was a hard

  homecoming for him, Isaac thought.

  Sally was standing beside Lizzie on the veranda, and Queen was a little

  distance away, mindful of her dubious place. Like Lizzie, Sally wanted to

  run to him and take him in her arms, and hold him and love him and soothe

  the hurt from him, but, like Lizzie, some evident pain in his manner

  stopped her. The empty sleeve at his side caused her mother's soul to cry,

  but she would not allow the tears to flow.

  Jass stopped, a little way from the house. He looked at the women, and

  tried to smile, but could not find sufficient joy in him even to do that.

  He could have been back days ago, two weeks ago, but he could not come

  home to nothing, with nothing. Jass took a resonating pride in his war

  record, in his achievements as a soldier; he had fought hard and well,

  but the surrender proved that he had not fought hard enough, and now he

  had to face-the consequences of his failure. He had seen the devastation

  in Georgia, caused by Sherman's army on its march to the sea, and

  although he knew that his property would not be so desolate, he knew it

  would be bad enough. Any soldier who had fought for the Confederate cause

  knew that of his home. They talked about it among themselves, each

  sharing the other's gloom. Unless they had gold hidden away somewhere,

  they had nothing, except land. Jass was rich in that, but the land was

  worth nothing, like his Confederate bonds and his Confederate dollars and

  his Confederate bank account, and so he was poor, dirt poor, war poor,

  Confederate poor, like a thousand and a thousand and a thousand others,

  He had tried to come back with something, but no one had anything to

  give. On his long walk home he had visited every friend, every

  acquaintance, calling in all his favors, in the hope of some scrap of

  promise for the future, but promises were all he had, and distant ones.

  Of immediate help, cash help, practical help, he had nothing. He had

  stopped in Florence the previous night, with Elizabeth, and comforted her

  for the death of Tom, and loved his children, and heard of the sorry

  state

  554 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  of affairs at The Forks of Cypress. This morning he had walked from

  Florence to the plantation, and saw that everything he had heard,

  everything he had guessed, everything he had feared, was true.

  He stared at his mother, and at the empty, silent, bankrupt fields.

  Everything he had inherited, everything that had been in his governance,

  everything that his father had charged him to protect, was reduced to

  nothing.

  It broke his heart.

  "Mother," he said. "I'm so sorry. I am so very sorry."

  Sally knew that it had to be said, knew that he had to say it, but she

  was never prouder of him than at that moment. Her son was brave. He had

  fought and fought well, and would, she knew, have given his life for

  them. But her son was more than brave. Her son was honest.

  She moved to him slowly, love for him and pride in him battling in her

  heart for dominance. The evidence of his bravery, that awful empty

  sleeve, caused in her emotions she had not felt since he was bom, and was

  whole and complete and healthy, and she loved him for it. Now he was not

  whole, he was not complete, but he was alive, and she loved him all the

  more.

  "Oh, Jass, my darling son," she said, like a secret between them. "It's

  wonderful to see you."

  She took her wounded child into her arms, and held him as a mother

  should, to keep him safe from life's storms. He clove to her. The very

  smell of her that had so sealed itself in his memory on the day he had

  gone away to war broke open all the other memories of his love for her,

  and swept aside the bitter remembrances of war, if only for this moment.

  He did not weep, because he was home, and safe, and there was no need to

  cry.

  Lizzie, aware of some powerful, visceral emotion between them that she

  was not privy to, moved forward slowly, and now Jass saw her, his wife

  and love, and he included her in his embrace with his mother. They stood

  together, the three of them, and spoke not a word, and moved not at all,

  until each was sure, in their heart, that he would never go away again.

  Then Lizzie laughed through her tears.

  QUEEN 555

  "Oh, come inside," she said. "You need looking after." He moved with them

  to the veranda, to the house, to the open door.

  He did not even see Queen, standing on the veranda, waiting so patiently

  for a word, a look, something, anything, that might acknowledge her

  existence. But there was nothing. Jass, still locked in Lizzie and

  Sally's loving embrace, moved past her into the house.

  As if she wasn't there.

  It was a shattering moment for Queen. She stood stock-still, waiting for

  him to come back and include her in his embrace, but knew he would not.

  She did not exist to him. She wasn't there. She was nothing, worse than

  nothing.

  She bit her lip, hard, determined not to cry, but not knowing how to

  avoid it. She felt the salt taste of blood, her blood in her mouth, and

  knew she was trembling. She had to get away, and moved from the veranda,

  across the lawn, somewhere, anywhere; she had no direction or purpose,

  she only had to get away.

  She stopped at the edge of the lawn, and looked down at the drive. Isaac

  was moving slowly to the gate, trying to keep pace with the whooping

  Davy.

  Davy, looking back at Isaac, saw Queen alone on the little hill, and

  called out to her.

  "Come along with us, Miss Queen," he yelled, wanting to gather the world

  into his joy. Isaac looked back and saw her, and seemed to understand.

  "Ain't nuttin' for yo' here," he cried.

  She should, she knew, go with them, because Isaac was right, there was

  nothing for her here, not even a father's love. She wanted to call out

  to them to wait for her, to run down to them, careless of clothes or

  baggage, to be with people who might have liked her, or at least admitted

  she existed, off together to a bold bright somewhere.

  But she could not. This was her place. These people, even if they did not

  acknowledge it, were her family. The Massa was her pappy, and she would

  make him love her. She convinced herself, in that moment, that they

  needed her at least as much as she needed them. She tried to smile, but
r />
  could not.

  556 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  She gave a little wave to Isaac and Davy, and Davy called something that

  she couldn't hear, but that might have been good-bye, then danced away.

  Isaac, after another glance at Queen, followed him more slowly.

  Queen watched them until they were gone from the gate and gone from her

  life, taking her last opportunity of freedom with them. She turned back

  and looked at the house. Through the open window she could see Jass, the

  Massa, her pappy, the returning hero, sitting with his family. His white

  family.

  Well, he would be hungry soon, after his long walk, so she had better go

  to the kitchen and make him something to eat.

  She walked away, to the back of the house.

  64

  lass spoke to Queen later, in the kitchen when she was cooking. She'd

  killed a broody hen to make a little celebration dinner for his return,

  and occupied herself with jointing the bird while he talked, so that he

  might understand her determination to go on as before, that she expected

  no special treatment from him, which, of course, she did. He was kind to

  her and clearly relieved by her domesticity, and her apparent refusal to

  ask for more than he could give.

  Queen had hardly occupied his mind for the last several months, for her

  place within the structure of his household was special only to her. When

  he thought of his family, it was of Lizzie and his children by her, of

  his mother, and then, by extension and lessening concern, of Elizabeth

  Kirkman and her family, and on through the great network of his white

  relations. He was fond of Queen, fonder of her than of any other of his

  former slaves, for she was Easter's child, and a living fragment of the

  memory of his love. That she was also his own child was a lesser issue,

  and one of lessening importance to him. Although the war had been over

  only for a few weeks, his discussions with his friends and associates had

  con-

  QUEEN 557

  centrated all his attention on the survival of his immediate and legal

  family in the postwar years.

  As foreseen by Sally some time earlier, and Parson Dick before that,

  white Southern society was already closing in on itself, as protection

  against the new occupying armies of the North, military or civilian, and

  that other army of countless numbers of freed slaves, who represented a

  considerable threat to life as it had been and the life that any of them

  saw as a viable future. Queen was part of the past. In that past she had

  a clearly defined role, a child of the plantation, her place understood

  by the entire society. In this new world, these children were dangerous,

  less so in the case of girls, but profoundly so in the case of boys, who,

  if they were given legal standing, might expect some portion of their

  true parent's, estate. Thus the fragile white Southern inheritance might

  be diluted to a point when those of Negro blood had dominance over great

  estates. Since this was unthinkable, these children, boys and girls, had

  to be excluded. This exclusion did not prohibit gentle treatment of them,

  or even affection for them, but the gentler the treatment and the larger

  the affection, the more claim they might have to recognition.

  Intuitively, every Southerner understood this, and each was going to

  considerable and sometimes brutal lengths to achieve a dispossession of

  those who had once been admitted, if not nurtured.

  Jass had talked with Sally, and she had told him of Queen's resistance

  to the idea that she should leave. In this, Jass sided with Queen. She

  was of his blood, however perversely, and he could not bear to make her

  an outcast. So he came to her, and treated her as a valuable member of

  his staff. He thanked her for her hard work, and told her of his

  gratitude.

  ... Tain't nuttin'," Queen shrugged.

  "Yes, it is," Jass said. "I don't think my family could have managed

  without you."

  He deliberately said "my family," instead of "our family," as part of the

  process of exclusion. Queen guessed this, but chose to ignore it as a

  slip of the tongue.

  "It's my job, Massa," Queen shrugged.

  He smiled. "You don't have to call me 'Massa' now," he said.

  But what else could she call him?

  558 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  "And there's something else," he continued. "I can't afford to pay you

  very much. Something, but not much. But then when things pick up-"

  Queen was shocked. She was being relegated to a staff position. If he

  paid her, he could dismiss her whenever he chose. That he could have

  chosen not to pay her, but to send her on her way, did not occur to her.

  "I don't want your money," she muttered.

  Jass smiled again. "I have to pay you something," he said. "Slavery's

  illegal now."

  He left the room. He had hardly asked after her welfare, had not

  discussed his own. He had taken on a cookhousekeeper at miserable wages,

  and had, neatly and effectively, boxed her into a hole from which it

  would be difficult for her to escape. Queen slumped on a chair at the

  table, and hid her head in her hands.

  "Slavery's illegal, but family ain't," she whispered to God. "And I's

  family."

  And God was kind to her, just for a moment, and sent a tiny ray of hope

  into her heart. At least he hadn't dismissed her. At least he hadn't told

  her she must leave, as Miss Sally had. He was letting her stay, and by

  doing so, he had left open the door of her confining box. Times were

  difficult for him, but when they got better he would see the error of his

  ways, and elevate her, if only a little, from her lowly station. In the

  meantime, she would put on a cheerful face, and make him realize what she

  meant to him.

  She smelled something burning. The potatoes had boiled dry. She jumped

  up, snatched the pan from the stove, venting her frustration in energy.

  Her hopes never came true. Slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, day by day,

  the circumstances of the family improved, although they never regained

  anything of their former fortune. Ja5s sold some small parQuIs of land,

  and put other acreage out for rent. Encouraged by friends, he allowed them

  to put his name forward as a candidate for the state legislature, and was

  elected senator. His reimbursement was not large, and he was required to

  spend a great deal of time in Montgomery, but at least he had an income,

  which was more than many of

  QUEEN 559

  his friends had, and a job that gave him the opportunity to be of some

  value to his constituency. He brought the children back from Florence,

  believing that they belonged at The Forks, at their home, no matter how

  difficult their daily travel to school might be. It was as well that he

  did so, for Elizabeth, his half sister, died soon afterward., She had

  never ceased mourning for Tom, and preferred to be with him in som
e kind

  of peace, no matter how ethereal, rather than face the difficulties of the

  world in which they now lived.

  Sally wept for her daughter's death, for she would miss her, but she was

  no stranger to death; indeed she almost seemed to welcome the concept of

  it for herself. She spent days poring over the obituaries as published in

  the skimpy daily newspaper, and attended whatever funerals she could. With

  the small improvement in her diet, her eyesight seemed to get better, or

  perhaps it was because the war was over, and Jass was home, and, with the

  end of slavery, a great burden of responsibility had been taken from her.

  Almost for the first time in her life, Sally had time for herself.

  Lizzie positively flowered. Since there was no longer any point in trying

  to be a Southern belle, and she was getting a little old for it, she no

  longer tried. There were few opportunities for glittering social

  occasions, as in the old days, for no one could afford them and had little

  to celebrate other than sheer survival. She channeled her formidable

  energy into the management of her house and the care of family. And her

  love for Jass. Or her gratitude to him. He had come home when so many had

  not, and Lizzie could not bear the idea of life as a widow. Although

  efficient and capable in her own right, she was a woman who believed she

  needed a husband to enable her to function at her best. Jass was surprised

  by the change in her, especially when he took her to bed and she welcomed

  him into her, and gave every indication that the experience, far from

  being unpleasant to her, as latterly, gave her pleasure. If Jass had been

  a suspicious man, he might have thought that she had taken a lover in his

  absence, but he no longer tried to rationajize or examine what was, or

  what might have been. He dedicated his energy to a better present.

  560 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Lizzie even came to an uneasy understanding with Queen, or at least

  recognized her existence. Now that Queen had an official position within

  the household, as paid staff member, some edge of anxiety was removed from

  Lizzie. But she was a tough, relentless mistress, and was not shy of

  demanding longer hours and harder work from her servant, if that was

  possible. She still harbored resentment of her, and perhaps hoped that if

  the job was made unbearable, Queen would leave of her own volition.

  But Queen would not go, nor could she think of any reason why she should. If

  she was grumpy to others, she always presented to Jass a sunshine face, and

  hid from him any hurt or resentment that she felt. When told that Lizzie was

  pregnant again, she smiled, and congratulated her Massa, although privately,

  in her room, she wept. Jass didn't need any more children. He did not fully

  appreciate one that he already had.

  Thus her life became less than it had been when she was a slave. Then, she

  had been able to persuade herself that she occupied some special place

  within her Massa's heart and house.

  Now she was simply a drudge.

  .65

  Alec Henderson was doing rather better than most. When he arrived back at

  The Forks of Cypress after his long trek home, he was greeted with

  surprising warmth by Letitia, and cordially by Sally and Lizzie. As soon as

  politeness would allow, he went to his cottage alone, and, to his relief,

  found that his cache of gold had not been disturbed.

  He chuckled, and laughed, and hopped an unlikely jig in the empty room. He

  was rich. Not really rich in the way that landed gentry had been, but

  compared to almost anyone else in the district, he was a man of fiscal

  means. He had a meager

  QUEEN 561

  dinner at the big house where Letitia was now living, and explained to

  them something of his plans. Obviously, there was no place for him at The

  Forks. Without slaves, they had no need of an overseer, and could not

  afford one anyway. He planned to take Letitia away for a holiday to

  Charleston, to see her family and discover their postwar circumstances.