Page 92 of Just Imagine
“Because I won’t be here.”
“Oh? Where are you going?”
Sophronia faltered. Kit had asked the question so innocently. “Let’s go into the sittin’ room for a few minutes so we can talk.”
Kit looked at her curiously, then followed her down the hallway. Once inside, she sat on the settee. “Is something wrong?”
Sophronia remained standing. “I—I’m going away to Charleston.”
“You should have told me earlier. I have some shopping to do, too. I could have gone with you.”
“No, it’s not a shopping trip.” Sophronia clasped her hands in front of her butternut wool skirt. “I—I’m goin’ for good. I won’t be coming back to Risen Glory.”
Kit stared at her uncomprehendingly. “Not coming back? Of course you’re coming back. You live here.”
“James Spence bought me a house.”
Kit’s forehead knitted. “Why would he do that? Are you going to be his housekeeper? Sophronia, how could you even think of leaving here?”
Sophronia shook her head. “I’m not goin’ to be his housekeeper. I’m goin’ to be his mistress.”
Kit gripped the arm of the settee. “I don’t believe you. You’d never do anything so horrible.”
Sophronia’s chin shot up. “Don’t you dare judge me!”
“But this is wrong! What you’re talking about is wicked, plain and simple. How could you even consider such a thing?”
“I’m doin’ what I have to,” Sophronia said stubbornly.
“You don’t have to do this!”
“That’s easy for you to say. But did you ever think I might want some of the same things you want—a house, pretty clothes, being able to wake up in the morning knowing nobody can hurt me?”
“But nobody can hurt you here. The war’s been over for three years. Nobody’s bothered you.”
“That’s just because everybody assumed I was sharing your husband’s bed.” At Kit’s sharp look, she added, “I wasn’t. Still, nobody except Magnus knew that.” The sculptured lines of her face set into bitter planes. “Now that you’re married, everything’s different. It’s just a matter of time before somebody decides I’m free for the picking. That’s the way it is for any black woman doesn’t have a white man lookin’ out for her. I can’t go through the rest of my life like that.”
“But what about Magnus?” Kit argued. “He’s a good man. Anybody with eyes can see that he loves you. And no matter how much you pretend otherwise, I know you have tender feelings for him. How can you do this to him?”
Sophronia’s mouth formed a straight, stubborn line. “I have to look out for myself.”
Kit jumped up from the settee. “I don’t see what’s so wonderful about having a white man watching out for you. When you were a slave, my father was supposed to be watching out for you, and look what happened. Maybe Mr. Spence won’t be able to protect you any more than my father could. Maybe he’ll look the other way the same as my father. Did you ever think about that, Sophronia? Did you?”
“Your father didn’t try to protect me!” Sophronia cried. “He didn’t try, do you understand what I’m telling you? It wasn’t just a matter of not seeing what was happenin’. He was the one who was giving me away for the night to his friends.”
Kit felt a stabbing deep in the walls of her stomach.
Now that the truth was out, Sophronia couldn’t stop herself. “Sometimes he’d let them throw dice for me. Sometimes they’d race their horses. I was the prize in the games they played.”
Kit ran to Sophronia and took her in her arms. “I’m sorry. Oh, I’m so very, very sorry.”
Sophronia’s back was rigid under her hands. Kit stroked her, blinked away tears, muttered apologies that weren’t hers to make, and tried to find the argument that would convince Sophronia not to leave the only home she’d ever known. “Don’t let what happened ruin the rest of your life. As awful as it was, it happened a long time ago. You’re young. Lots of slave women—”
“Don’t you tell me about slave women!” Sophronia jerked away, her expression ferocious. “Don’t you dare tell me about slave women! You don’t know nothin’ about it!” She took a deep gulp of air, as if she were strangling. “He was my father, too!”
Kit froze. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. It’s not true. You’re lying to me. Even he wouldn’t give away his own daughter. Damn you! Damn you for lying to me!”
Sophronia didn’t flinch. “I’m his daughter, no different from you. He took my mama when she was only thirteen and kept her right in this house, right under your mama’s nose. Kept her there until he found out she was carryin’ a baby, then he tossed her back to the slave cabins like a piece of trash. At first, when his friends came sniffin’ after me, I thought maybe he might have forgotten I was his. But he hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t attach any significance to it. Blood had no meaning because I wasn’t human. I was property. Just another nigger gal.”
