Natashia Deon - Grace

Nobody’s here.

Books are on shelves around me and the broken oak table from the kitchen that slaves used to chop and sort on is here, too. But no Rachel. Pamphlets are spread across the tabletop.

I pass through the only door in this room and it leads to a connected room, a study, where Missus Graham is sitting at a desk in a plain blue dress, her hair pinned into a bun. She tilts her teacup to her lips, sips, and sets it down before writing in her notebook.

The scribbles of her pen start and stop and point. Start and stop and point, and start again. I look over her shoulder. . a letter to her cousin.

I whisper, “You should go upstairs.” But she keeps writing.

A thud in the library calls her attention. “George?” she say.

She gets up and I rush back to the library ahead of her, find Jackson inside searching the room. Ain’t no way out except straight to where Missus Graham is or back out the way he came. She walks in the room, already talking, “I thought you wouldn’t be back until this evening.”

Jackson holds his breath from under the chopping table.

She looks around the room, surprised she don’t see George. Only the window gapping open. She goes to it and looks out of it, pulls it closed. It sticks before it finally shuts. Jackson’s already slipped behind her, through her study and out into the house.

Jackson stops in the hallway in front of Annie’s wood and glass cabinet where her rifle is. He reaches inside the cabinet, grabs the rifle, closes the door with a soft click.

He stops.

In the glass’s reflection, standing behind him, is Annie. Terror rises on her expression.

THE WARP OF a floorboard under this door has swelled. I step on it. Put all my weight on top of it. Pull again.

No use.

Try harder. It squeaks but don’t open.

Air whooshes in the bathroom above, rattling the trap door. Bobby Lee walks in.

I stand still.

Bobby Lee’s boot heels click slowly across the bathroom floor. I promise you, God, if you save me this time, I’ll let go this place.

Cynthia say from above, “Ray, what you think my chances are?”

“None of none,” he laughs.

“Cynthia!” a woman’s voice calls from outside, just beyond the porch. Bobby Lee stops at the sound of Soledad. He turns to the door. The shadow of his wait eclipses the liquor cabinet down here.

“Cynthia!” she say again, hurrying up the porch steps and into the parlor. “My husband. . Mr. Shepard—” Soledad goes quiet when she see Henry and Ray. She straightens her clothes and say, flat, “You catch my husband’s killer?”

“Sol,” Cynthia say. “We was just talking about you. I was just about to tell the boys a story. About how long I’ve known you and how much you hated the thought of being married to an old man.”

“Aw, is the game over?” Henry say.

Cynthia flattens the mouth of the pistol to her head again. Henry smiles.

“Oh no, not this game, Cynthia,” Soledad say. “Not this one.”

“But isn’t that what you want, Sol? For somebody to pay once and for all for all the bad shit that ever happened in your life? You blame me. Your father. Your mother. No doubt Mr. Shepard. . enough to hurt him?”

“I wouldn’t. . I didn’t.” Soledad seems lost.

Pain starts in my belly, moves up my back, got me on my tiptoes writhing, gritting my teeth.

I blow quick breaths in and out. Feel dizzy.

“Ray?” Cynthia say. “Did I ever tell you how I betrayed my best friend, turned her into a monster? Wasn’t it Frankenstein who needed to put his monster down?”

I cain’t open this door.

“My momma,” Cynthia say. “She was a good woman. A praying woman. ‘Eternal God, help us walk with good companions, to live with hope in our hearts and eternity in our thoughts.’” She goes over to Soledad and holds her hand. A hopeful expression fills both of ’em. “‘That we may lie down in peace and rise up to find our hearts waiting to do Your will.’”

Cynthia puts the pistol to her head. Fires.

Soledad screams.

“Shit!” Bobby Lee yells and dashes out the bathroom.

Blood pours through the floorboard.

I cain’t move.

I cain’t breathe.

Hazel’s voice inside me says, “Run!”

I heave open the door and fly through it. The dogs are barking mad beside me.

They cain’t have me.

I hold my belly, feel it light as ever, like it’s helping me. Saving me. I run toward the woods, ain’t gon’ stop ’til the Railroad. I see their light through these tears. I know Cynthia’s dead and I cain’t look back.

One of the men’s voices yell behind me, “Is that her?”

“I don’t know what that is,” another say.

I cain’t let them find me. Cain’t join that Railroad, either, and put all them in danger.

So I turn from their flickering lights and change my course.

JACKSON BEGS ANNIE’S reflection, “Please, Missus Graham,” and steps away from the glass cabinet. Annie steps away from him, her face pale.

“I’m not here to hurt you. See?” he says, setting the back end of the rifle down on the floor. He props it against the side of the cabinet, raises his hands, surrendering, and slowly turns around toward her. “I’m Jackson,” he say. “Sissy’s son.”

“Son?” she say.

“Yes, ma’am. She told me y’all ain’t been friends a long time but maybe you could be a friend to me now. I need this here rifle, Missus Graham.”

Annie dashes up the hall toward her study. Jackson grabs the rifle and runs after her, the door slamming just ahead of him. Annie wiggles the latch to lock the door but Jackson pushes it open before she can. He grabs her arms, quickly lets her go.

She whimpers, “Don’t hurt me!”

“Please, Missus Graham. Men are coming to kill me and I’ve committed no crime.”

“I can’t help you,” she say, trembling.

“Please, ma’am. A dying man’s last wish, Missus Graham.”

She closes her eyes, shaking.

He backs away from her and takes a deep breath. Another. He says, “If I don’t make it home today. . will you give a message to my wife and children. Tell Josey. .”

“Josephine?”

He nods. “My wife. She’s the love of my life.”

A flash of recognition crosses Annie’s face. The soldiers’ horses neigh just outside the door.

He say, “Please make sure no harm comes to her or my children.”

The pack of soldiers stomps up the porch steps and across to the front door. Fatty and Skinny sneak along the side of the house in opposite directions. Fatty moves cautious toward the library window and Skinny goes the other way.

Colonel knocks on the door while Snooper stands at attention next to him.

Annie says to Jackson, “I’ll need to answer the door. I’m expecting my brother.”

“Yes’m,” he says, with tears sliding down his cheeks.

Annie walks to the door, timid, looking over her shoulder at Jackson as he follows with the rifle in his hand. She opens the door and he waits behind it.

Colonel takes off his hat. His hair is drenched and red lines are on his forehead where his hat was. His uniform is sweaty around the neck. “Good afternoon, Ma’am,” he say. “I’m sorry to bother you on this fine day. I’m Colonel Barling and this is Sergeant Lowe. Are you George’s sister?”

“I haven’t seen George,” she says and starts closing the door.

Colonel holds the door open one-handed, steps into the doorway. “We’re looking for a negro criminal named Jackson.”

“I don’t know any Jackson,” she says. “If you wouldn’t mind, Colonel.”