Free Grace by Natashia Deon Page B

I found that girl, Ada Mae,” Bessie say to Annie. “She was peeking through the window downstairs. I thought you might want to have a word so I . . . She’s in the hall . . .”
    â€œYou brought her in here?” Annie say, meeting eyes with the doctor. Doctor folds his arms like he told her so. “Where is she now?”
    Ada Mae comes through the door slow and with her clothes still stained with berry juice and dirt from playing earlier. She stutters, “I . . . I was just comin ’round for Josey. See how she was. She got the vapors when we was playin and . . . I ain’t too sure how it started. Could be the berries or could be . . .”
    â€œDo you think it’s acceptable to come in my house dirty?” Annie say, her voice rising. “Like some naked African fresh off the boat. Some kind of vile creature,” she yell. “Answer me!”
    â€œNo no, Missus Graham.”
    â€œThen why have you insisted on bringing your filth into my house? Get out! And the next time you try to kill another one of my slaves, I’ll have you and your momma strung up like runaways. You hear me?”
    Doctor seems pleased.
    â€œYes’m,” Ada Mae say, trembling.
    â€œWell go!”
    The wind of Ada Mae’s sprint makes the door yawn and Josey comes wide-awake. Annie leans over Josey’s bed. “And you. If I have to spend another dime to treat your carelessness, I’ll sell you off!”
    â€œYes’m,” Josey say, breathy.
    From the other side of the doorway, hands clap together, loud and slow. “Bravo,” a man’s voice say before his muddy black boots stomps across the threshold shaking brown chunks to the floor. Newly growed to manhood, about eighteen, George is two feet taller than he was the last time I saw him but he still small—the same size as Annie is now. “Brilliant,” he slurs, drunk. “Wonde’ful.”
    â€œBessie, come and clean this up,” Annie say, pointing to the mud.
    â€œWas that little performance for the doctor’s sake, or yours?” George say. “It was . . . quite amusing.” He burps, then covers his mouth, dainty and polite-like, making hisself chuckle. He steps out of his boots, front ways, over the tongue of ’em, kicks ’em back into the hallway with his heels, then staggers toward Annie in his stocking feet, swaying from side to side.
    â€œGeorge, this isn’t the time,” Annie say.
    He grabs her around the waist and lifts her up, grunting as he do. She stiffens in his skinny arms, her pretty puffed dress crushed to a wilted flower. “That’s enough,” she say, shoving her forearms in his chest. He holds on to her anyway, pulls her closer.
    â€œI can’t show my big sister how happy I am to see her? Been back three days and you haven’t even hugged my neck yet.” He swishes his sweaty hair in her chest, laughing, while the sweet funk of alcohol rises off of him.
    â€œI told you to stay out of the cordial,” Annie say.
    â€œAlways telling me what to do,” he say and drops her directly. He reaches in his coat pocket for a metal flask, undoes the lid and swallows a few gulps of something strong before teasing the flask under her nose. “It’ll sweeten your disposition.”
    â€œDoctor,” Annie say, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Wouldn’t you like to use the washroom? Down the hall. Last door on the right.” She waits for Doctor to understand that her question wasn’t a question and when he finally do, he nods before he go.
    George strolls around the room, drunk-grinning, pretending to ponder the sad people on the wall. “When’s your husband supposed to be back?” That’s the third time he’s asked about Richard in as many days.
    Richard’s been gone for years and with no word to Annie on when he plans to come home. George has known the fact since the first