Episode 14

Phee’s voice became raspy. She thought it would be a good time to pause and drink some water. Tea was available, too, but it seemed to her the liquid only dried out her throat even more. One exception was when there was peppermint tea available.

After refreshing her voice, Phee sat in her straight chair once more. She briefly entertained the idea that the wingchair from her bedchamber should be brought down to her auntie’s chamber, but such would require considerable effort. She could bear more time in the hard chair, she decided.

Phee wondered how much further she would be able to read that day but resumed before her auntie might reconsider.

I received a note from Mother in response to my correspondence that it may be a while before I return. She stated I need not worry. They received pleasant surprises which, at first, bewildered and shamed them, but now they have gratefully accepted the gifts.

When the slaves picked up my possessions, they brought a turkey. They declared it was in appreciation of Miss Jones being able to stay with Mrs. McQueen as a companion.

Then, during the night, silver and beaded bracelets and necklaces for my mother and my sisters appeared on the doorstep with a note which read, “In Gratitude.”.

They do not require me at home for chores, and my parents need not feed me. My sisters appreciate they have more room in the bed we share.

Father is away fighting the Seminoles. I wonder if Chief Half-Moon realizes this, because he has relatives on the other side of the skirmishes. My mother and sisters are not alone, however. There are slaves and my uncle staying with them.

¨¨¨¨

Zora was feeling better today, so much so, they helped her outside where she lay on a quilt under an ancient oak tree. A servant brought out the many silken pillows from Zora’s bed so she could recline.

I do not know where the chief is at present, but this morning I saw him readying his horse and riding away. He looked every bit the chief today and little like Mr. McQueen.

Zora told me last night a healer danced around her bed. He gave her some herbs in oil, which she is to ingest. Finally, he intoned something she did not understand. But, she says, she will listen to the healers more. She believes going outside is a wonderful idea and mentioned her husband has been most attentive.

Zora asked me if we can be honest with each other. “Of course,” I replied.

“Then please listen to me a moment.”

She spoke in a weak but intelligible voice.

“Charlotte, I welcome your presence here. I believe we are kindred spirits. I may only have a brief time left on this earth, and there is much I wish you to understand.”

She claimed it has been very lonely. “The women of the Wind Clan are kind enough,” she said. “But I have nothing in common with them. However,” she added, “there is a more urgent matter.”

Zora repositioned herself on the quilt to look as squarely at me as she could.

“Charlotte, should I die, my father will try to take the children to Philadelphia.”

She informed me she has given this great thought, including knowing if the children stay with their father, others will often care for them. They would grow up knowing little of her world she once knew.

“But,” she declared, “no one loves those children more than Stirling, including me.” I noticed that she did not call him Half-Moon. 

I objected. “Mothers always love their offspring more than anyone.”

“No,” she answered. “I allow others to tend them when he is not around, and when he is, they are with him except at mealtime. Often at night, Stirling stays in the room with them, stroking Zachary’s head, or holding Ann’s hand, until both are fast asleep.”

She told me she loves her babies dearly. But not as much as her husband.

“My father opposed this marriage,” she added. “But he could not say no to me. He knows even now I have never looked at or thought of another.”

The conversation was draining her as she grew paler with each sentence.

“I am growing tired, Charlotte. I must return to bed and rest. It is my hope and my prayer, that should something happen to me, you will help my father to understand this is my wish, to leave Zachary, Ann, and the new baby with Stirling.” 

These words of planning and expected death depressed me, but I could not help but admire the strength this woman has when considering her loved ones.

One of the Uchee slaves carried Zora upstairs, and she has been sleeping ever since.

¨¨¨¨

Tonight, at supper, I thanked the chief for his generosity to my family. He acknowledged my comment by nodding. He replied he was most glad he brought his wife outside last evening, and he heard she went out again this morning. However, she must not do too much.

I watched Mr. McQueen, whom I considered the chief because he was in Creek attire, as he drank his soup and chewed a piece of venison. Each time he took a sip or raised his arm with a bite, I could see his muscled arms lengthen and contract. It was like watching a graceful fiddler playing a slow waltz, the muscles working together. I could almost hear it, that beautiful waltz, for music was in his motions.

I ate little, thinking of it.

Lust, Zora had asked. Or love. Or respect.