Dessa Rose by Sherley A. Williams Read Free Book Online

somewhat calmed by the utterance, perhaps as much by the tone of his voice, which he purposely made gentle, as by the statement itself.
    â€œThen for what you want do it?”
    â€œI write—” He cleared his throat again, casting around in his mind for some appropriate words. “I write what I do in the hope of helping others to be happy in the life that has been sent them to live.” He was rather pleased with that response. Certainly, it seemed to succeed in setting her mind at ease about the possible repercussions in talking freely with him; she appeared much struck by the statement, looking intently into his face for a long moment before she again settled into her customary pose. He allowed her to reflect upon this for a moment. She was silent for so long that he began to suspect her of dozing and leaned forward the better to see her. Her eyes were open (she seemed not to have the same problem as he with the harsh light), her hands cupped beneath the roundness of her stomach. “Your baby seems to have dropped; according to the old wives’ tale, you’ll be brought to bed soon.” It was merely an attempt at conversation; he, of course, knew no more about that sort of business than he knew about animal husbandry or the cultivation of cotton. She jumped as though stung and he cursed his stupidity, knowing that his unthinking comment must have brought her own sentence to mind. After the initial start, she straightened her back and scooted nearer the tree, but said nothing. He waited, somewhat anxiously, for the blank sullen look to return. It did not, however, and emboldened, he ventured quietly, “Girl, where did the others get the file?” even as she spoke.
    â€œKaine not want this baby. He want and don’t want it. Babies ain’t easy for niggas, but still, I knows this Kaine and I wants it cause that. And…and, when he ask me to go to Aunt Lefonia…I—I near about died. I know what Aunt Lefonia be doing, though she don’t be doing it too much cause Masa know it got to be some nigga children coming in this world.”
    Nehemiah started at that: baby murder! He had heard of African women fresh off the boat, as it were, engaging in such practices but this was the first time he had come across any hint of it among native-born blacks. Fancy that, blocking conception and child killing, too. And the owners not even aware! Oh, Roots would explode like an artillery shell among them. He was so startled by the disclosure and its implications that he almost missed her next sentence.
    â€œâ€¦anybody but Kaine, I do it, too. First time anyway. But—” She paused and licked her lips, touching her stomach again. “This Kaine and it be like killing part of him, part of me. So I talk with him; beg him. I say, ‘This our baby; ours, us’s. We make it. How you can say, kill it? It mine and it yours.’ He just look at me. ‘Same way Lefonia sons be hers when Masa decide that bay gelding he want worth more to him than they is to her. Dessa,’ and I know he don’t want hurt me when he call my name, but it so sweet till it do hurt.” His voice seemed to ring inside her head. “‘Dessa,’ just soft like that. ‘Dessa, where your brother, Jeeter, at now?’ I’m crying already, can’t cry no more, not for Jeeter. He be gone, sold south, somewhere; we never do know. And finally I say ‘Run,’ and he laugh.” Her mouth filled with the remembered bitterness.
    â€œHe laugh and say, ‘Run, Dessa.’” (Lawd. No one had never said her name so sweet. Even when he was angry, Dessa. Dessa. She would always know the way he called her name.) “‘Dessa, run where?’
    â€œâ€˜North,’” she whispered. She’d never heard anyone talk about going north. North had been no more to her than a dim, shadowed land across a river, as mythic and mysterious as heaven: rest, when the