Page 48 of Just Imagine
“If Miz Sophronia was only white, then she wouldn’t ever have to worry none about a black man wantin’ to take her in his arms and make her his woman and have chil’ren by her. She wouldn’t have to worry about a black man wantin’ to sit by her and hold her when she felt lonesome, or about growin’ old lyin’ in a big old feather bed. No, Miz Sophronia wouldn’t have to worry about none of that. She’s too fine for all that. She’s too white for all that!”
“Stop it!” Sophronia lifted her hands and held them over her ears to shut out his cruel words.
He stepped back to free her, but she couldn’t move. She stood frozen, her spine rigid, her hands clamped to her ears. Tears coursed down her cheeks.
With a muffled groan, Magnus took her stiff body in his arms and began stroking her and crooning into her ear. “There, now, girl. It’s all right. I’m sorry I made you cry. Last thing I want is to hurt you. There, now, everything’s goin’ to be all right.”
Gradually the tension ebbed from her body, and for a moment she sagged against him. He was so solid. So safe.
Safe? The thought made her jerk away. She drew back her shoulders and stood proud and haughty, despite the tears she couldn’t quite stop shedding. “You got no right to talk to me like that. You don’t know me, Magnus Owen. You just think you do.”
But Magnus had his own pride. “I know you’ve got nothing but smiles for any rich white man looks your way, but you won’t spare a glance for a black man.”
“What can a black man give me?” she said fiercely. “Black man’s got no power. My mother, my grandmother, her mother before her—black men loved them all. But when the white man came skulkin’ through the cabin door in the middle of the night, not one of those black men could keep him from havin’ her. Not one of those black men could keep his children from being sold away. Not one of them could do more than stand by and watch the women they loved being tied naked to a post and whipped until their backs ran red with blood. Don’t you talk to me about black men!”
Magnus took a step toward her, but when she turned away, he walked to the window instead. “Times are different now,” he said gently. “The war’s over. You’re not a slave any longer. We’re all free. Things have changed. We can vote.”
“You’re a fool, Magnus. You think just because the white man says you can vote, things are goin’ to be any different? It doesn’t mean nothin’.”
“Yes, it does. You’re an American citizen now. You’re protected by the laws of this country.”
“Protected!” Sophronia’s spine stiffened with contempt. “There’s no protection for a black woman except what she makes for herself.”
“By selling her body to any rich white man who comes along? Is that how?”
She whirled around, lashing him with her tongue. “You tell me what else a black woman has to barter with. Men have been usin’ our bodies for centuries and givin’ us nothin’ in return for it except a passel of children we couldn’t protect. Well, I want more than that, and I’m goin’ to have it, too. I’m goin’ to have me a house and clothes and fine food. And I’m goin’ to be safe!”
He flinched. “Sellin’ yourself into another kind of slavery? Is that how you think you’re gettin’ your safety?”
Sophronia’s eyes didn’t waver. “It’s not slavery when I choose the master and set the terms. And you know as well as I do that I’d have it all by now if it wasn’t for you.”
“Cain wasn’t goin’ to give you what you wanted.”
“You’re wrong. He would of given me anythin’ I asked for if you hadn’t spoiled it.”
Magnus rested his hand on the carved back of the rose damask settee. “There’s no man in the world I respect more than him. He saved my life, and I guess I’d do about anythin’ he asked me. He’s fair and honest, and every man who works for him knows it. He never asks anybody to do anythin’ he hasn’t done himself. The men admire him for that, and so do I. But he’s a hard man with women, Sophronia. I never saw one yet could bring him to heel.”
“He wanted me, Magnus. If you hadn’t busted in on us that night, he would’ve given me whatever I asked for.”
Magnus came toward her and touched her shoulder. She recoiled instinctively, even though his touch felt strangely comforting.
“And if he had?” Magnus asked. “Would you’ve been able to hide that shiver that comes over you every time a man so much as touches your arm? Even though he’s rich and white, would you’ve been able to forget that he’s also a man?”
He’d struck too close to her nightmares. She turned away and headed blindly toward the desk. When she was finally sure she could speak without her voice betraying her, she said coldly, “I’ve got work to do. If you won’t get the supplies for me, I’ll send Jim to town.”
At first she didn’t think he’d answer, but he finally nodded. “I’ll get your supplies.” Then he turned on his heel and left her alone.
Sophronia stared at the vacant doorway, and for a moment she was filled with a nearly overpowering longing to fling herself after him. The instinct faded. Magnus Owen might be a plantation overseer, but he was still a black man, and he could never keep her safe.
10
Kit’s muscles ached as she descended the stairs the next morning. In contrast to the britches she’d worn the day before, she was dressed in a demure outfit of palest lilac voile with a delicate white lace shawl tossed around her shoulders. From her fingers dangled the lavender sashes of a floppy leghorn hat.
Miss Dolly stood by the front door waiting for her. “Now, aren’t you pretty as a picture. Just fasten up that button on your glove, darlin’, and straighten your skirts.”
Kit smiled and did as she was told. “You look awfully pretty yourself.”
“Why, thank you, darlin’. I do try to keep myself nice, but it’s not as easy as it once was. I no longer have youth entirely on my side, you know. But just look at you. Not a single gentleman will be able to keep his mind on the Lord with you sittin’ in the congregation lookin’ like a piece of Easter candy waitin’ to be devoured.”
