“Get Thomas for me,” he commanded.
Before Hannah replied, Eliza spoke. “Thomas took Alden and Isaac to Scott’s Grove.”
“How are we supposed to get to church?”
“You know how to drive the runabout just fine.”
He sat on the bed beside his wife. “I’m going to get Isaac back.”
She reached for the jar of cream again. “My father won’t be very pleased if you ask him to return your generous gift.”
His face steamed. “I’ll tell him that you deceived me.”
“And I’ll tell him that you coddle a slave boy.”
He leaned close. “Perhaps I don’t care what your father thinks.”
“Oh, Victor.” She sunk down into her pillows again, smirking. “Of course you don’t.”
Chapter 8
Scott’s Grove
December 1853
The sun rose over the frost on the tobacco fields, but the warmth didn’t penetrate Alden’s room. His family might be able to ignore what happened to Benjamin, but he could not.
With his door cracked open, he could hear Rhody outside, calling for Mammy.
Mammy should be grieving, but instead she’d have to suppress her grief as she buttoned, ironed, and powdered his sister into a proper young lady. For two decades now, Mammy had worked tirelessly for his family, raising the three Payne children and then serving the women, yet they didn’t give her a day off to mourn her loss.
His mother entered his room, dressed in a Sunday gown that shimmered red and gold. In her hands was a wheat-colored carpetbag. She quickly scrutinized his nightclothes. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
He leaned back against the bedpost, raking his fingers through his messy hair. “I’m not going to church.”
“But it’s Christmas.”
He bowed toward her, forearms resting on his knees. “Do you remember the Christmas before I turned ten?”
She shook her head.
“It was so warm that Benjamin and I rose early to swim in the pond. Benjamin was only seven, and yet he’d figured out how to make a diving stage from the racks in the curing barn.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you stole the racks.”
“I couldn’t tell Father that Benjamin did it. By then, I’d figured out that Benjamin would be whipped with the switch if he did something wrong while my punishment was usually to skip a meal.”
She shifted her feet. “That was a long time ago ...”
His gaze traveled back toward the window to the oak and hickory trees in the forest beyond his father’s field. “I knew we were different, but I didn’t really know why until I was much older. In my early years, I just saw him as a boy like me.”
“He’s not anything like you, Alden,” she said stiffly.
“But he was. Not his skin color, but he was smart—much smarter than me—and so clever. Then he lost everything when he was sent out to the fields.”
She closed the door and sat on the bed beside him, the carpetbag in her lap. “Your compassion is admirable, but you can’t change the way of the South on your own. Nor should you. Your father may be firm, but he also provides food and clothing and shelter for our men and women. He cares for them much better than some of our neighbors do their slaves.”
His stomach churned. “You should have seen Benjamin’s body—”
