Glory over Everything: Beyond The Kitchen House

“I don’t say nothing,” I say.

“Are you certain he . . .” she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

“Pan is most reliable, aren’t you, Pan?” Mr. Burton says.

“I know how to be discreet!” I say.

Mr. Burton’s eyebrows go up and then he gives me a smile. “Discreet, eh? We shall count on that, Pan,” he says.


FOR MONTHS AFTER, Mr. Burton is whistling like never before, and I know why but I keep my mouth shut even when I hear Robert and Molly talkin’ almost every night at supper, both thinkin’ that I don’t know what’s goin’ on.

Then, all of a sudden, everything stops. Mr. Burton stops teaching his art classes and Miss Caroline don’t come to the house no more. There’s no more whistling and Mr. Burton spends most of his time closed up in his study.

One day I go to Malcolm’s room with an apple that Molly gives me from the cold storage room.

“Hey, Malcolm,” I say, “look what I got for you!” and when I toss the apple in the air and go to catch it, I bump into Mr. Burton, who is sitting quiet in a chair and looking down at his feet.

Malcolm flies over to me and I make him talk before he gets the apple, but this is the first time the bird’s yapping don’t get Mr. Burton to smile. I study the man for a while, then I say what he always says to me when I got trouble. “Mr. Burton,” I say, “is there anything that you got on your mind?” I know he’s goin’ on a trip down into North Carolina to paint some birds, and I’m wonderin’ if it would make him feel better if I was to go along to help him out. I’m about to say so when he looks up at me. “How old are you now, Pan?” he asks.

“I’m twelve,” I say.

“You have always been wise beyond your years,” he says. Mr. Burton is the kind of man who needs to think before he talks, so I stay quiet and wait on him. “I was thirteen when I first met your father,” he says. “Has Henry ever told you about our first meeting? He saved my life, you know.”

My eyes open wide. In all these years he’s never talked to me about this, and my daddy won’t say nothing about it, either, even when I ask. “How did he do that?” I say.

Mr. Burton puts his hands through his hair, making it go curly—not like mine, where it stands straight out if Robert don’t keep it cut. “I’ll tell you about my early years another time. For now I have too many things to sort out. It seems I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Did you make a mess with Miss Caroline?” I ask.

He nods. “I’m afraid so,” he says.

I try hard to think of something to say. “My mama always said, ‘As long as you tell the truth, you got that to stand on.’?”

Mr. Burton gives me a quick glance, then looks out the window. “Well, you’ve certainly hit on the problem.”

I can see he’s done talking, so I go back and finish cleaning up after Malcolm, then I hear Molly calling and I set out to find her.


FOR A COUPLE of weeks I keep waitin’ for Mr. Burton to perk up, because I don’t like to see him so quiet. He was never like this before. I keep tryin’ to think of what to do, until one morning I remember how, before Miss Caroline was comin’ around, he was always talkin’ to me about gettin’ a parrot with green feathers.

“Where you gonna find one like that?” I asked.

“They bring them in on the ships,” he said.

I never been down to the docks. Robert and my daddy said for me to stay away because of slave catchers down there. But I’m old enough now to watch out for myself. Besides, my daddy’s been talking all these years about gettin’ caught by slave catchers and nothin’s happened to him.

I got the money that Mr. Burton gives me, but I don’t know how much a new bird is. I’m hopin’ I got enough with what Molly gives me.





CHAPTER SEVEN


1830


James


I LEFT THE EVENING’S celebration before supper was served; if I had stayed longer with Caroline, we would have given ourselves away. As it was, eyebrows were raised when she forgot herself and clung to my arm with both hands. When Mrs. Cardon was called away, I quickly walked us toward the supper room, hoping for a lesser audience there.

However, here, too, in this great blue room, there was a flurry of activity as waiters and chefs rushed about. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the abundant displays of red roses and tall strawberry topiaries massed together on the mantels, tables, and sideboards.

A confused waiter stood with a large covered dish in hand while two of the chefs squabbled.

“The sauce goes in front of the salmon!”

“Never! It must be presented from a side table,” the other argued.

I led us to a corner and a large group of potted shrubs, tall as myself. Inadvertently, I stepped into the path of one of the servants, and we collided so firmly that the casserole dish he was carrying went flying. As the gold-rimmed china fell, splashing lobster Newburg across the carpet, Caroline reached for my hand and pulled me into a long dark corridor. No sooner were we alone than she was in my arms. I felt weak from wanting her, but I held her back. “Not here! Not here!”

“Why, James?” she begged. “Why haven’t you seen me? Is it because of the child?”

“No, Caroline,” I said. “No!”

“But why, James?” she asked. “Why haven’t you sent for me? I disturb you, is that it? The sight of me with child disturbs you?”

“No, dearest, no!”

Her blue eyes shone with tears. “Then tell me! Why have you abandoned me?”

I pulled her close and spoke into her ear. “I have not abandoned you,” I whispered. “I have been a coward, but I promise that I have not abandoned you!”

A servant startled us unexpectedly, and though he cast his eyes down as he hurried by, I was reminded again of the danger. I tried to put distance between us, but she would not release me.

“I must see you! When can we meet? Father is furious that I came here tonight, but I had to see you! I had to see you! Mother is insisting I go to the country. She said there are rumors and that I must go!”

“Your mother is right. It will be safer for you out there. But she has invited me out to Stonehill, and I will come,” I said.

“You will? Truly, you will? Give me your word, James,” she pleaded, clinging to my arms while dropping her forehead onto my chest.

My hand covered the nape of her soft neck. “You have my word. I give you my word. As soon as the invitation arrives, I will come,” I promised. How terrible I felt at her obvious distress. What had I done to this poor girl? Why had I not given her more support?

Another waiter averted his eyes as he passed by.

“Come now, before we are discovered,” I said, and drew her hand to my arm. Just in time, for no sooner did we appear in the doorway than a male cousin sent by Mr. Cardon swooped in and, with a haughty nod, swept Caroline away. She turned back and looked at me with such appeal that I took a step forward, then stopped myself. If I went for her, I didn’t doubt she would come with me, but what then? I had no plan in place.

I stood back beside the potted shrubs, oblivious to the scurrying waiters. Why had I kept us apart for so long? If only I had told her the truth about myself from the beginning! But I loved her as I had never loved before, and always there was the fear of her rejection. Yet in not seeing her, I had missed her need for me. To learn that she saw my absence as abandonment filled me with shame.

And to think that there was the chance that our child could have color. How could I not have told her? Not only would she be horrified, she would be unprepared for potential danger. There were many stories of such situations that ended with rumors of murdered babies and mothers mysteriously disappearing. There was no way around it. The time had come. I must prepare her.

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