Read Douglass’ Women for Free Online Page B

happening between us. When he was through, he held still,deep inside me, kissing my face, my throat. He stroked my breasts and suckled them.
    My body arched toward his mouth. My babies would suckle here, too. I moaned, cresting a wave, feeling I’d drown, then feeling Freddy holding me tighter, tighter. Then I felt him pushing inside me again. Pushing, pulling out, pushing in, like we were riding the sea together. He cried out that time, and I felt a sweet swoon and thought, “My real life just beginning.”
    “Soon. We’ll be free.”
    I stroked his back, thinking how nice he link our fates. But I already free. Always been free. Why he not remember that? I shrugged, feeling his ragged breath brushing past my hair and ear.
    My fingers smoothed the scars on his back. I kissed the sweat on his neck. He groaned. Shameless, I rejoiced. Rejoiced he wanted to keep touching deep inside me.
    Fine, I thought. This loving be just fine.

 
    Love be true
.
    Helping a slave escape means death.
    I made Freddy a seaman’s outfit with my own hands. Sewed it with neat stitches and pressed it fine. Cutting my pillow, I pulled out my money resting between goose down. At the harbor, I bought two tickets for colored passage to New York.
    Every step I took, I nearly faltered.
I could be hanged. Hanged
. The words would sing through my mind, unsettling me, making me clumsy, awkward, unable to sleep.
    Miz Baldwin lost patience with me. She shouted, “I need you to be responsible. Respectable and responsible.” And I hung my head ’cause I knew I wasn’t respectable—I allowed Freddy liberties. I enjoyed him touching me. Me touching him.
    I was still responsible. Just not to her. What did it matter to keep dusting chairs, scrubbing windows, polishing silver? It was my own house I wanted to keep.
    Once Miz Baldwin surprised me, entering my room.
    “What’s in that bag?”
    I’d been folding me and Freddy’s escape clothes. I answered, “Laundry. My day-off job.”
    “You’ll have to quit your extra work. You barely have time enough to give proper care here.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She was shaking with rage, dressed in a blue muslin, a kerchief in her hand.
    “Haven’t I been good to you?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Then why are you upsetting me? Doing less than your best work? I rely on you.”
    I hung my head.
    “If you’re in love, then marry. Marry so you may do your work well. Be whole in mind, in heart again.”
    “I’m trying. I want to be married.”
    She exhaled. “Then I’ll have Mr. Baldwin speak to Gates’s employer. He’ll make Gates settle down. Gates will be a better worker for it and you will, too.”
    I felt so guilty. Gates was a good, grown man. Didn’t need the Baldwins messing in his affairs. Still, I knew Gates was sweet on a kitchen maid. He’d marry her and I’d be gone soon with my Freddy.
    “Thank you, ma’am.” I bobbed a curtsy. “You a good Mistress.”
    She left. I went back to packing.

     
    Hanged. I could be hanged. Or sold. Kidnapped into slavery
.
    That Sunday evening, I met Freddy at African Zion Church. There was a church supper and all the women competed to see who could make the best chicken and pie. Normally, I would’ve entered the contest, but Freddy and our escape was too much on my mind.
    In a pew, side by side, Freddy and I listened to “Blessed Be My Savior” and to the Preacher’s sermon. “Our GoodLord forgives everything,” Preacher say. “There is no wrong that can’t be undone. No act that can’t be forgiven.”
    I prayed the Good Lord forgave my sinful urges. I only felt what He made it possible for me to feel.
    After service, Freddy and I walked on, away from the talk and good eating. He was so serious. Quiet. I felt a distance between us even though our feet were keeping time, keeping even pace.
    We stopped beneath a willow. My back against bark, Freddy kissed me slow and deep. There was a hunger in him and I was glad.
    I knew I could feed him, fill him