Spirited Away - A Novel of the Stolen Irish (9 page)

       "Come,
Birdie, I'll teach you," Freddy coaxed. She smiled affectionately at her
friend's shyness, then leaned in and whispered, "Is Kofi here?"

       "I
no see." 

       Freddy
pulled her into the circle of dancers. The boys grabbed the ends of the blue
streamers and the girls took the green ones. As the music began, the boys
circled to the right and the girls to the left, weaving in and out. Freddy kept
a close watch on Mrs. Pratt and Laurie as she danced. Once around the entire
circle, everyone danced with a partner. When the fiddler signaled, the weaving
circle was repeated. As the dancers wove their ribbons, the Irish musicians
were joined by Africans playing homemade drums carved from tree trunks. Other
Africans played bone rattles and stringed gourds. They also brought bamboo
flutes and trumpets fashioned from conch shells.   

       The
music gradually shifted from Irish to African. The drums and rattles grew
louder as the Africans drank and chanted, swaying to the tempo. Soon they were
jerking and twisting in the bright light of the bonfire, sending wild shadows
leaping across the yard as they immersed themselves in traditional rhythms.
Shiny with sweat, they dipped and swirled. Off to one side, the Irish jigged
around the fire. Birdie and Kazoola did their own hopping dance, laughing and
smiling into each other's eyes. Freddy danced with Father Sean and then with a
lad named Liam, but tired quickly. She sank onto a log next to Mrs. Pratt,
thanked her, and cradled her sleeping son in her arms.

       It
was midnight by the time the fire and the dancing died down. Freddy finished
off her rum and wiped her mouth. She and Birdie could wait until morning to
clean up, thank God.

       Suddenly
she felt she was being watched. She glanced at those still gathered around the
glowing bonfire embers.

       Birdie
sidled up. "Kofi," she whispered, indicating with her sloping eyes
where he was.

       Freddy
followed her gaze. In the deepest shadows, she could barely make out a large
African man sitting on the ground resting against a log, sipping from a coconut
bowl. She realized with a start

that he was looking straight
at her. 

CHAPTER
17

June
1654

Freddy
tapped on the rough wooden door that was propped open. In front of the slave
hut, the remains of a cook fire smoked in the slanting evening sun. Laurie
stirred in his sling and she instinctively stroked his back. In her other hand
she clutched a burlap sack containing her few belongings. A golden sunbeam
shone through the hut's only window and onto a low plank table. On it the
African lay facing the doorway, his wide-set eyes fixed on her. He did not move
except for those black eyes following her as she entered the hut and stood next
to the door, poised to sprint away. His tall, russet body was too long for the
plank bed, his large brown feet hanging off the end comically. His arms and
shoulders were heavily muscled and well-defined. He watched her with
mesmerizing eyes that were shadowed by a prominent ridge of brow. He wore only
a blue loincloth.

       He
abruptly sat up, facing her.

       Freddy
shrank back against the wall, startled by his sudden movement. He looked like
the Africans she'd seen hiding in the bushes behind Master that day during
harvest. But this was a different man. The bright whites of his eyes flashed
from his chocolate face. He smiled at her, revealing two pointed upper teeth.
She gulped and tried to graciously smile back. Her face felt frozen. His
closely cropped, fuzzy black hair framed a glowing face that looked polished.
He had handsome, toffee-colored features that seemed more Indian than other
Africans she had seen. His skin was not blue-black like some. Between chiseled
cheekbones his long, high-bridged, narrow nose fanned out into dramatically
wide nostrils. From the top of each nostril, two ridged scars stretched out and
down to his jawline.

       He
sat motionless, his strapping arms propped on his knees and his head tilted
back slightly. He appeared
fearless but wary, ready for anything. The outer lines
of his full mouth pointed down, which made her wonder if he was angry.

       "I'm Freddy," she managed to
blurt out in a cracking voice. Nervously smoothing back a frizzy strand of hair
that had escaped from her braid, she took a deep breath and tried to relax. Her
face was hot and she knew that her cheeks sported two bright red splotches.

      
He stood, towering over
her.

       Freddy
flinched but her eyes never left his. She raised her chin and leveled her wide,
almond-shaped eyes at him, silently pleading for compassion.

       "Kofi,"
he murmured in a soft bass tone, pointing to his sturdy chest. He pointed from
her to the plank bed, walked to one corner, and sat on the dirt floor.

       Holding
his eyes with hers, she moved to the bed and sat. As she untied the sling, Kofi
leaned against the corner studying her. She settled her sleeping son on the
bed. 

       She
wondered if this powerful-looking man was feeling fearful, too. Freddy knew
nothing of Africans. Like everyone, she had heard wild stories about them and
their pagan ways. Maybe he despised white women. She reminded herself that they
were both slaves, owned by the same ruthless Master. Had the planter told Kofi
of his plan to mate them to produce mulatto slaves for the estate? This African
probably spoke only his tribal language.

       She
rubbed her stiff, tired neck, took a deep breath, and looked around. Below the
small window, a row of calabash gourds sat on a shelf. Next to them lay yams,
guava fruit, and coconut bowls. 

       He
rose and walked to the shelf, poured something into two bowls, and handed her
one. She took a careful sip. It was mobby, and surprisingly cool. She wiped her
sweaty brow with her sleeve, got up, and went outside for some air. He joined
her on the crude plank bench that stretched along the front of the hut. Freddy
dug at the dirt with her bare toes. Kofi's brown feet rested placidly on the
ground.

       They
silently sipped their drinks and watched the rose sunset light the high clouds
above a grove of guava trees. Kofi's hut sat on the edge of the quarters facing
away from the slave compound. From here they could see no other buildings. They
viewed only guava trees, sky, sugar cane fields, and several slave gardens. In
one of the plots an African woman squatted, pulling weeds from a thick pumpkin
patch.

       Freddy
swatted away a mosquito and glanced down at Kofi's strong, brown hand resting
on his leg. She wondered if he had built this hut himself, purposely facing it
away from the others. Her eyes returned again to that dark hand. Suddenly she
imagined his massive hands touching her breasts, and she shuddered.

       He
turned to her and said something in his soft African tongue.

       "I
don't understand," she said apologetically, shaking her head and trying to
smile.

       He
pointed to himself. "Kofi Boateng."

       She
nodded. "Boateng. Not Kofi Ashanti?"

       He
shook his head.

       "Ashanti
is your tribe…" He looked at her with a blank expression in his black
eyes, shaking his head again.

       She
pointed to herself. "Freddy – Frederica O'Brennan."

       "Freddy."
His velvet accent caressed her name. She liked the sound of it. Again she
shivered in spite of the warm evening.

       "Kofi,"
she repeated gently.

       In
the fading light they went back in. On the dirt floor in one corner, Kofi
fashioned a crude burlap pallet for himself. Sitting on it, he again pointed
from Freddy to the plank bed.

       "Bless
you," she whispered hoarsely. Perhaps Birdie was right. Perhaps this Kofi
was good.

Freddy
awakened before the horn sounded and rubbed her eyes. Next to her, Laurie
stirred. She sat up and looked around, slowly remembering where she was. Kofi
was stretched out on his side, facing the wall. As Freddy nursed the babe, she
listened to Kofi's even breathing and studied his tapered brown back. It was
criss-crossed with fresh-looking whip marks. She wanted to surprise him this
morning with a parcel of smoked pork she had snitched from the kitchen and
stashed in her bag.

       The
conch shell echoed through the gray dawn. Freddy heard the compound spring to
life as slaves fetched water and prepared quick meals. She could smell the
smoke from a nearby cook fire. Kofi rolled over to face her and mumbled
something. She shook her head, shrugging, but held the parcel up for him to
see.

       "Mmm,"
she said, smiling and touching her stomach.

       He
got to his feet, went to the shelf to splash his face with water, dried it with
a rag, and joined her at the low plank table. She tore off a chunk of meat and
handed it to him, putting her finger to her mouth to let him know this was a
secret. He nodded and took a big bite. While chewing, his face lit up.

       "Mmm."
He smiled and took another piece of pork. He said something else before devouring
it. When she gave him a blank look, he smiled again, rubbed his belly, gently
patted the top of her head, and repeated the Ashanti word. She smiled back and
nodded. That must mean thank you, she figured.

       The
horn blew again and it was time for them to go their separate ways for another
long day on the plantation.

*

       That
evening they circled each other like wary leopards. As she cooked rice over a
small fire in front of the hut, he took the babe and held him, rocking him
soothingly. Freddy stole glances at the two of them from under her long lashes,
and wondered if Kofi had ever fathered children. Laurie, who looked extremely
small and pastel in those dark, muscular arms, calmed right down as the African
crooned something in his ear.

       After
supper, Kofi took two yams from the shelf and gestured for her to follow him.
Both barefoot, they climbed a narrow path that led to the same spring she'd
bathed in with Birdie and Una. He gestured for her to go in the pool, carefully
took the babe from her, and walked back around a rock shelf to give her
privacy. She sat on the edge of the pool, dipping her feet, then plunged in and
immersed herself, still clothed. She had a clean, dry gown in the hut. She was
still unsure of Kofi, and didn't know if anyone else was about. She floated in
the cool, clear pool, her gown ballooning out around her. Then she scrubbed her
scalp with her fingers, climbed out, and wrung out the skirt of her white
shift.

       She
noticed for the first time that by the mouth of the cave behind the pool,
someone had placed a stack of coconut bowls. She shrugged to herself, went to
find Kofi, and perched on a large slab of rock cradling Laurie while the
African bathed out of her sight. He was finished quickly. She waved a mosquito
away from the babe, got up, and watched as Kofi took the yams and placed them
next to the mouth of the cave.

       "What's
that for?" Freddy asked.

       He
gave her a vacant look, his black eyes unfathomable.

       It
was almost dark by the time they got back to the hut. Kofi went straight to the
pallet on the floor and stretched out on it, again facing the wall. Freddy
remembered the salve Birdie had given her, and dug it from her burlap sack. She
settled the babe on the bed, padded over to Kofi, and tapped him lightly on the
shoulder.

       He
jerked his head toward her.

       She
showed him the jar of ointment and gently touched his back.

       He
nodded.

       With
one finger, she carefully covered each of Kofi's whip lesions with a thick
layer of salve. By the time she was finished, he was snoring lightly. 

When
Freddy returned the third evening, Kofi was squatting next to the outdoor fire,
cooking. She could smell fish frying, and cornbread cakes. Her mouth watered.

       "Freddy,"
he said in his soft way, pointing to the bench in front of the hut. She sank
down onto it and watched as he dished the food into calabash bowls.

       "Thank
you," she said when he handed her the bowl. She had eaten mush earlier,
but she gratefully gobbled the fish. How had he gotten his hands on this? The
cornbread was delicious, too.

       "Mmmm!"
She smiled, patted her belly and lightly touched the top of his head. He nodded
and smiled, passing her a bowl of mobby.

       When
they finished, he motioned for her to follow him inside. He went to the shelf
and picked up a knife. The blade flashed in the light of a lit candle and she
inhaled sharply. Kofi grabbed a papaya, chopped it in half, cut away the peel,
sliced it into small pieces, and put them in a bowl. He walked over to where
she stood and pointed at the babe. She untied the sling. As he carried the
sleeping babe to the bed, Freddy held her breath at the sight of his massive
brown hand cupping Laurie's miniature white back.

       Kofi
picked up the bowl of papaya and led her to the corner of the shack most hidden
from the open doorway. He sat, gently pulled her down onto a piece of burlap
he'd placed on the floor, and fed her a chunk of juicy ripe papaya, gazing into
her eyes. She giggled as some juice dribbled down her chin. She began to wipe
it off but he stopped her, swabbing her chin with one finger and licking the
juice from it. Mesmerized, she fed him fruit, wiped his chin, and licked her
finger. He fed her more papaya, this time licking the sweet juice from her
lips. She put more papaya in his mouth, watching his face for a moment before
leaning in to lick his full lips. Impulsively she darted her tongue between his
lips, and he responded by taking her mouth with his. She moaned and he pulled
away to look at her questioningly. She pulled his head back to hers and took
his mouth in a soft, bottomless kiss. Never had she known a kiss like this.

       He
leaned her back against the corner and touched the skin around her eyes, kissed
her eyelids, and said something in Ashanti. He kissed her eyebrows, ears, and
throat. Unlacing Freddy's tight bodice, he stroked her belly. She relaxed,
caught up in the feeling. He took his time, touching every part of her from her
toes to the curls on her head. He combed her long black locks with his big
fingers and caressed her skin lightly, almost tickling, with his palms.

       There
was no need for words as she ran her fingers lightly down his two facial scars,
kissing the end of each scar line. She studied his body with her hands, from
his wide eyes to his narrow hips and high round buttocks. He responded by
stroking her buttocks, unashamed of his natural desire. He lay her down and
propped himself on his side, pulling her gown up and looking at all of her. He
took off her gown and bodice. Nothing was hidden as he slowly explored her.

       "Freddy…"
His voice rumbled in her ear as he touched a place that was extremely
sensitive.

       She
gasped sharply. What was this? She involuntarily arched her back and opened her
knees. She could barely breathe as he went deeper, whispering in his soft
language. In the dim candlelight she let the feelings intoxicate her. He waited
for her to press herself into him, then made love with a passion she never knew
existed. She rode wave after wave of emotional sensation as if in a dream.