The Kitchen House Part 35

Papa did not want to go on without Mama, and no one wanted to go on without Papa. Jamie was the first to turn back. Earlier in the week, telling no one, he had taken a gun from the house and hidden it under the smokehouse. Now he went to get it. The others had almost reached home when they heard the shotgun blast. Papa did not want to go on without Mama, and no one wanted to go on without Papa. Jamie was the first to turn back. Earlier in the week, telling no one, he had taken a gun from the house and hidden it under the smokehouse. Now he went to get it. The others had almost reached home when they heard the shotgun blast.

"And Jamie? Where is he now?" I asked.

She a.s.sured me that he was on his way to safety.

How I dreaded the next question. "Miss Martha? Uncle Jacob?"

I was relieved to know that Miss Martha had died before the fire. Uncle Jacob's body had not been found, though it was thought that he had gone back into the house and perished there.

"What became of Rankin?" I questioned.

No one knew, but Will had armed Ben and Papa, who were caring for what was left of Tall Oaks.

When Belle finished, I held her close to me for a long while. Before she left, I asked that she instruct everyone from my home to stay away. I was afraid of what they might say within hearing distance of the wrong ears.

When I was led to the bar, I pleaded guilty. It was the opinion of the court that I be prosecuted, and I remained in jail through September to await the trial. I was not unhappy to sit in the small cell, to eat the meager rations, nor to sleep on a pallet in the damp. In this manner I punished myself, not just for the death of Mama but also for the loss of Miss Martha and Uncle Jacob. Surely, I might have done something to save their lives. I gave little thought to Marshall's end; in truth, I was relieved to be free of him.

As Will predicted, Mr. Madden came to my aid. Immediately, he, as my lawyer, insisted that I plead not guilty. In private quarters, he a.s.sured me that he knew I had not murdered Marshall. I would not admit to Mr. Madden what had taken place, knowing that if Jamie were tried as a Negro for the murder of a white man, it meant certain death. Instead, I argued that I was the guilty party, and in an effort to convince him, I unburdened myself of my past behavior, of the years of self-obliteration, of self-absorbency.

He peered over his spectacles as he listened carefully. After a long silence, he spoke. "My dear," he said in his gentlest voice, "it is possible for me to believe that you have been guilty of selfish deeds, for are you not now still acting in a selfish way?" long silence, he spoke. "My dear," he said in his gentlest voice, "it is possible for me to believe that you have been guilty of selfish deeds, for are you not now still acting in a selfish way?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You say that during your years of laudanum use, you were not a good mother, is that true?"

"Yes, I was in a haze. I left Elly's care to f.a.n.n.y."

"And you would once again deprive your daughter of a mother?" he asked.

"But she has f.a.n.n.y ..." I began, then stopped myself, for I saw his point. He needed no further words to convince me to allow him to defend me in the best way he saw fit.

On the opening day of the trial, Mr. Madden, together with another lawyer, argued that I had not shot Marshall but had been in shock when I confessed to the deed. Into the next day, they argued that Uncle Jacob had not only set the house afire but lain in wait for Marshall's return. He alone had access to a shotgun, which, they said, only could have come from the big house. They suggested that Uncle had made his escape, and they went so far as to say he had been seen as he made his way north. I am not certain the jury was completely convinced of Mr. Madden's argument, but I suspect that Marshall's reputation had an influence on their willingness to have me acquitted.

On the afternoon of my release, I was taken by carriage to Will's home. I exited at Belle's kitchen house, where I had a tear-filled reunion with Elly, Belle, and f.a.n.n.y. It wasn't long before they had me in a water tub. I was not shy when all three insisted on helping me to scrub off the past month of grime, and I would have soaked there forever were I not expected up at Will's home for a celebratory supper. While I was in the tub, Belle washed my hair, and after she combed it dry, she piled it on top of my head. I dressed in Belle's clothes, which fit me surprisingly well, then kissed everyone before I set off.

Will's home was large, and when I entered, I felt a sense of familiarity. It was made of clapboard, and its layout was not unlike that of Tall Oaks. It was not as grand in size, and it lacked fine furniture and treasures, but the detailed woodwork and the fireplaces showed quality and skilled workmanship. The plastered walls were painted white, and the pine floors shone, though they did not have the luxury of carpets. that of Tall Oaks. It was not as grand in size, and it lacked fine furniture and treasures, but the detailed woodwork and the fireplaces showed quality and skilled workmanship. The plastered walls were painted white, and the pine floors shone, though they did not have the luxury of carpets.

Lucy met me at the door, and I embraced her. "I will never forget your kindness," I said, and when I loosed her, she smiled.

Will appeared at the door of the parlor. "I thought I heard you," he said, then came to escort me into the room. He led me to his wife, who was seated on a blue-and-green upholstered chair next to the fire. Mr. Madden rose from the chair opposite her when I entered, but I waved him back into his seat.

Will's wife was a plain woman, but immediately, I sensed her kindness. I did not know what she knew of me, but her greeting was without judgment. She was pale and large with child, and I saw from her drawn look that she was not well. I did not take note of her dress, for my attention was drawn to the oversize slippers needed to accommodate her swollen feet. Soon after our introduction, Martha asked me to excuse her. She explained that her doctor had recommended she spend the majority of her time in bed until, as she worded it, her "blessing came." Lucy helped her from the room, and their receding silhouette stabbed me as I was reminded of Miss Martha and Mama Mae. I was saved from myself when Will suggested that we go in to dine.

Lucy was back to serve us, and though I had little appet.i.te, it was wonderful to once again sample Belle's cooking. When Will offered a toast, I chose to drink from the water goblet rather than from the gla.s.s of red wine. I no longer had a taste for the liquid that had so negatively affected my life.

After dessert, the talk turned to my future. Will rose and offered to give me privacy with Mr. Madden. I asked him to stay, saying that I would welcome his input. I admitted that I was afraid to learn what my future held.

What did I want to do? Mr. Madden asked. Would I consider returning with him to Williamsburg, bringing Elly with me, of course? He a.s.sured me that his family would welcome the two of us. As a matter of fact, he said with a laugh, Meg-who was still unmarried-had elicited a promise that he would not return without me. course? He a.s.sured me that his family would welcome the two of us. As a matter of fact, he said with a laugh, Meg-who was still unmarried-had elicited a promise that he would not return without me.

I thanked him with true sincerity for all he had done, and I said that he must not leave without a letter from me. I wished to express my grat.i.tude to Meg and to Aunt Sarah for their kind offer. "But," I said, "I want to remain here. I will do whatever needs to be done to have that happen."

Mr. Madden was not surprised at my resolve to stay. Earlier, on his arrival, I had requested that he review my situation and act on my behalf. Now he told me of the results. He had been able to salvage one hundred acres, including what was left of Tall Oaks and its outbuildings. Will Stevens had agreed to buy the few remaining Negroes from the quarters. As I had requested, the emanc.i.p.ation papers for Papa, Eddy and f.a.n.n.y, and Beattie and her three boys had been drawn up; I planned to ask them to stay on for the food and shelter I could provide. In time I would give them wages. Mr. Madden suggested that with ingenuity and hard work, we could make a success of a small farm. Then he made an offer that overwhelmed me. He would give me a loan, he said, to finance a new house. I was to repay this sum by sending a letter once a month to his family, telling them of my progress so they could all be partners in my achievements.

Mr. Madden received my tears of relief and grat.i.tude with some embarra.s.sment, while Will excused himself to check on his wife.

On Will's return, he extended his wife's offer for my use of their guest room. When I thanked my host and said that I was happy to retire to Belle's home, I did not need to explain myself further.

Later, when Will walked me back to the cabin, my relief was such that I could scarcely contain myself. Stimulated by the elixir of hope, I breathed deeply the crisp air of freedom. Elly and I could remain at Tall Oaks with our family, and we had the resources to begin again.

It was October. The orange moon was so large that Will and I both remarked at its beauty. When we reached the cabin, he took my ungloved hand in his. A shock of desire ran through me, and with it I knew how surely I still loved this man. Before I could throw myself into his arms, I quickly withdrew my hand, then offered my help if his wife should need it. I dared not linger and hastily said good night. both remarked at its beauty. When we reached the cabin, he took my ungloved hand in his. A shock of desire ran through me, and with it I knew how surely I still loved this man. Before I could throw myself into his arms, I quickly withdrew my hand, then offered my help if his wife should need it. I dared not linger and hastily said good night.

Back in Belle's cabin, I shared my news, and together we rejoiced. After Elly slept, I asked Belle of Jamie. He was, she told me, safe in Philadelphia. I told Belle that I would have Jamie's papers drawn up and sent to him. Belle thanked me, then told me of the day Jamie had brought her own papers.

"Do you want to join Jamie in Philadelphia?" I asked. "I could see to it."

Belle declined. Will had already extended the offer and given her permission to leave at any time, she said. Belle was silent as she studied her hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were moist. Could she ask for something else?

"Anything," I said.

Could she come back with me to live at Tall Oaks?

I went on my knees and gathered her hands in mine. "Of course you can come home," I said.

Early the following morning Ben arrived on horseback, trailing a horse for me. I had not seen him since I was taken to jail. This day he and I alone set out to what was left of Tall Oaks. As my horse led the way along the very path that Elly and I had so recently taken, I searched for words. Finally, I plunged in. "How can I ever thank you, Ben, for helping me the way you did?"

"You my family, Abinia," he replied.

My throat was so tight I could scarcely respond. "As you are mine," I said.

Papa George waited at the barn. Where once his hair was gray, it was now white. I hesitated until I saw his smile. Then I leaped off my horse and ran, free to embrace him after all of these years.

When I gave Papa his papers, he took them and turned away. "Papa." I touched his shoulder. "You are free to go, but more than anything, I want you to stay. This wouldn't be home without you. I can't pay you yet, but ..." anything, I want you to stay. This wouldn't be home without you. I can't pay you yet, but ..."

Papa turned back to me. "Where I gonna go, Abinia? This place my home. I don't belong no place 'cept here."

In my relief, I wanted only to cry, but I could no longer indulge myself. Instead, I began to speak of our future. I told Papa of Mr. Madden's offer to finance a new house. We studied the property together, and I knew when Papa George suggested that we walk up to the old home site how very much the thought disturbed him.

"No, Papa," I said, "we won't build there. That hill is sacred. We must find another place."

We both stared silently up the hill and at the oak that still stood, but we were saved when Moses, Beattie's oldest son, joined us. Following behind, Beattie and her two other sons hurried to greet me. Our embrace was as true as our childhood friendship.

Together we discussed the possibilities of a new home site. Papa led us toward a spot through the orchard and across the way from the kitchen house. We all thought his choice ideal. Mr. Madden and Will came later that afternoon and gave the location their approval. Within the week, construction began.

The barns were in good condition, and fortunately, a few good horses were left. It was agreed that we could build from them, and in the following years, we prospered after we established our name as providers of reliable horse stock.

Belle did come to live at Tall Oaks, and together we faced our future. When she died many years later, she was laid to rest in the big-house cemetery alongside her father. Her headstone was engraved:

BELLE P PYKE

DAUGHTER OF J JAMES P PYKE

AUTHOR'S N NOTE

A FEW YEARS AGO, MY FEW YEARS AGO, MY husband and I restored an old plantation tavern in Virginia. While researching its past, I found an old map on which, near our home, was a notation: Negro Hill. Unable to determine the story of its origin, local historians suggested that it most likely suggested a tragedy. husband and I restored an old plantation tavern in Virginia. While researching its past, I found an old map on which, near our home, was a notation: Negro Hill. Unable to determine the story of its origin, local historians suggested that it most likely suggested a tragedy.

For months it played on my mind. Each morning I walked across our land to go down to the stream where I would meditate. On my return trip, I faced the direction of Negro Hill and, to myself, wondered aloud what had happened there.

Finally, one morning when I returned from that walk, I sat down to do my daily journaling. What happened next left me baffled. In my mind's eye, I saw a scene play out as clear as a movie. I began to write, and the words flew onto the paper. I followed in the footsteps of a terrified little white girl, running up the hill behind her frantic mother. When they reached the top, through their eyes, I saw a black woman hanging from the limb of a large oak tree. I set my pencil down, appalled at the story line. I had written the prologue to The Kitchen House The Kitchen House. Although fascinated by antebellum history, I abhorred the thought of slavery and had always shied away from the subject. Quickly, I slipped the writing in my desk drawer, determined to forget about it.

Some weeks later, during a conversation with my father, I learned that an acquaintance of his had traced his ancestry back to Ireland. Around the turn of the nineteenth century, this man's Irish ancestors had come over on a ship, and on that journey, both of the parents had died. Two brothers had survived, along with their little sister. The family was able to track what had happened to the boys but couldn't find any trace of the little girl. As my father related the story, a deep chill ran through me. In my deepest core, I knew immediately what had happened to her. She had been brought home to the captain's plantation as an indentured servant in Virginia, and put to work in the kitchen house with the kitchen slaves. She awaited me in my desk drawer. to the captain's plantation as an indentured servant in Virginia, and put to work in the kitchen house with the kitchen slaves. She awaited me in my desk drawer.

I began to do the research. I visited the many plantations in this area, particularly Prestwould. I studied slave narratives from the time period and interviewed African-American people whose ancestors had been slaves. I spent hours in local libraries, the Black History Museum, the Virginia Historical Society, and Poplar Forest. I visited Colonial Williamsburg many times over. Finally, I began to write. Each day more of the story unfolded, and when I finished, often emotionally spent, I was left to wonder what the following day would bring. The only time the work came to a standstill was when the characters took me to an event or to a place where I had not yet done my research.

I tried on a number of occasions to change some of the events (those that I found profoundly disturbing), but the story would stop when I did that, so I forged ahead to write what was revealed.

I am forever grateful to the souls who gifted me with their sharing. I can only hope I have served them well.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I HAVE MANY TO THANK, HAVE MANY TO THANK, but foremost, Mrs. Bessie Lowe, who so generously shared her family history with me, and Quincy Billingsley, who patiently schooled me to look through brown eyes as well as through blue. but foremost, Mrs. Bessie Lowe, who so generously shared her family history with me, and Quincy Billingsley, who patiently schooled me to look through brown eyes as well as through blue.

Invaluable resources for me while writing this book include: the Prestwould Plantation, the Black History Museum in Richmond, the Legacy Museum in Lynchburg, the Virginia Historical Society, Poplar Forest, Colonial Williamsburg, the public libraries of Appomattox, Charlotte Court House, Farmville, and the libraries at Longwood University and the University of Virginia.

I am grateful to the Farmville Writers' Group: Reggie, Melvin, and Linda, who started me off, and to the Piedmont Literary Society, who guided me on.

How do you thank your dearest friends? From the beginning, Diane Eckert believed in my ability to write. Carlene Baime lifted me when I faltered. I could not have written this book without the leadership and support of Eleanor Dolan, nor completed it without the insight and tireless help of Suzanne Guglielmi.

Thank you to my agent and my champion, Rebecca Gradinger, and to Trish Todd, my gentle editor. I extend grat.i.tude to my brave copyeditor, Beth Thomas.

I am deeply grateful for the support of my daughters, Erin Plewes and Hilary c.u.mmings, and my son-in-law, Kyle c.u.mmings, who created the music for my book trailer.

My husband carried the camera, took notes in the libraries, and was at my side for countless weekend visits to plantations, museums, and historical sites too numerous to mention. Thank you, Charles, for your unfailing belief in me and in this work.

TOUCHSTONE READING GROUP GUIDE

The Kitchen House

FOR D DISCUSSION

1. Why do you think the author chose to tell the story through two narrators? How are Lavinia's observations and judgments different from Belle's? Does this story belong to one more than the other? If you could choose another character to narrate the novel, who would it be?

2. One of the novel's themes is history repeating itself. Another theme is isolation. Select scenes from The Kitchen House The Kitchen House that depict each theme and discuss. Are there scenes in which the two themes intersect? that depict each theme and discuss. Are there scenes in which the two themes intersect?

3. "Mae knows that her eldest daughter consorts with my husband. ... Almost from the beginning, I suspected their secrets" (page 107). Why does the captain keep Belle's true ident.i.ty a secret from his wife and children? Do you think the truth would have been a relief to his family or torn them further apart? At what point does keeping this secret turn tragic?

4. Discuss the significance of birds and bird nests in the novel. What or who do they symbolize? What other symbols support the novel?

5. "When I saw their hunger I was struck with a deep familiarity and turned away, my mind anxious to keep at bay memories it was not yet ready to recall" (page 24). Consider Lavinia's history. Do you think the captain saved her life by bringing her to America as an indentured servant? Or do you think it was a fate worse than the one she would have faced in Ireland? Discuss the difference between slavery and indentured servitude.

6. Marshall is a complicated character. At times, he is kind and protective; other times, he is a violent monster. What is the secret that Marshall is forced to keep? Is he to blame for what happened to Sally? Why do you think Marshall was loyal to Rankin, who was a conspirator with Mr. Waters?

7. "I grew convinced that if she saw me, she would become well again" (page 188). Why does Lavinia feel that her presence would help Miss Martha? Describe their relationship. If Lavinia is nurtured by Mama and Belle, why does she need Miss Martha's attention? Is the relationship one-sided, or does Miss Martha care for Lavinia in return?

8. "Fortunately, making myself amenable was not foreign to me, as I had lived this way for much of my life" (page 233). Do you think this attribute of Lavinia saves or endangers her life? Give examples for both.