CHAPTER 1
THEY SHOULD HAVE NAMED ME DANGER
It was a hot, sunny day around the year 1820 in the deep south of Florida, on the forever-reaching acres of the Butler Plantation. There, far back from the road, surrounded by many trees, was the big house in all of its splendor — a white, prestigious mansion with a weeping willow on the left side and a lemon tree on the right. The mansion was so hidden behind an assortment of beautiful flowers and hedges that it appeared to be growing right out of the shrubbery. That was where I, Margaret Butler, an old southern belle, sat on the big wraparound porch, drinking a cool glass of lemonade with Someday, my dog.
You know, there was only one person who understood my pain, shared my relief, and safeguarded the secrets of my heart — only one whom I trusted more than my child, more than my mama and papa, and, if I had a brother, more than him, too. That person was Miss Sister. Why, Miss Sister was the name I gave her when I was just a little girl. I was an only child, and my cousins and best friends had sisters. I wanted one, too. So as Miss Sister called me Miss Margaret, I decided to call her Miss Sister, and that was that. My mama tried hard to change my mind, but even as a child I was stubborn, and I set out not to have it any other way.
Why, I remember one day, when I was about five years old, Papa had allowed Miss Sister to go into town with us, and while we were in the store, a man heard me calling her Miss Sister.
He asked, "Girl, why you calling that nigger gal 'miss'?"
I replied, "'Cause I want to."
Well, he turned redder that a red bird and almost choked on his chewing tobacco as he was rushing out that store. I guess it took him by surprise that a five-year-old thought like that. So eventually everybody came to know her as Miss Sister. Miss Sister was the only name I knew until much later, when I learned her given name was Violet — but still I preferred Miss Sister. Miss Sister fully understood me, and I, in turn, knew her just as well.
I rubbed Someday down his back and began to daydream about our childhood days.
As far back as I could remember, there was a Miss Sister. Her family was owned by my father, and her mama was my mother's lady's maid. Since I had no brothers or sisters, Mama would allow me to bring Miss Sister in the house to keep me company. She was three years older than me, and even as a child, she was taller than the children her own age. Her complexion was a pecan brown, and she had coarse hair that she always wore in two long braids down her back because that was her way of taking control of it. Hell, it was the only thing that she was allowed to control. She had no control over where to live, how to live, or just plain living. But those eyes of hers were so big they demanded everyone's attention. Those eyes shouted, "Don't you dare ignore me!" Those eyes could swallow you up in just one look. But even so, she was the most beautiful slave I had ever seen.
As a child, I was always getting into trouble for trying to figure out why and how something was done — and usually the something was really none of my business. My Uncle Charlie, for instance, was a snuff sniffer and never ceased to amaze me as I watched him putting that brown stuff up his nose, wondering why he did that. Well, my mind led me to believe that it must have been something real good, like sucking on candy. So one particular day, he laid his snuff box down and forgot to close it, and I politely took it and eased away to the porch. It was on a Sunday, and I was still dressed up from church in my beautiful, buttercup-yellow dress. I poured some of the dark powder in my hand and put my nose in it, but that didn't work. All I did was smear the stuff on my nose and top lip while the rest of it landed on my dress. Still determined to get it up my nose, I then decided to lie down on the porch, roll over, and put more in my hand to try to get it in my nose while I held my head back, but then it ended up in my eyes. Why, my mama said she had never heard such screaming and crying in all her life. After that, my uncle Charlie would always poke fun at me by inviting me to take some snuff with him. But my snuff-sniffing days were done.
Trust. I learned to trust Miss Sister way back when I was a child. Really, I owed her my life. When I was about fifteen years old, I remember one day, Rebecca, Jenney, my cousin Betty Jean, and I overheard Calvin and Josh planning to meet at the lake that evening to go skinny-dipping. So I talked the girls into slipping out the house to meet down there and surprise them by showing up at the lake as well. When we got there, it was dark, and the boys were already in the water.
"What y'all girls doin' here?" Calvin yelled.
Without a moment of hesitation, I answered, "I think we are here for the same reason y'all is — and besides, Calvin, who died and made you my papa?"
Calvin just gave me that dumb, blank look that only he could give. I was taking off my clothes when I realized that the other girls were just standing and staring.
"Well, now, don't tell me I got a bunch of scared-asses hangin' around me. I thought y'all came to get in the water." I enjoyed daring them in front of the boys. Finally they followed my lead.
The weather was so hot that night, but we were excited — the boys were there with us, and we were taking a chance on getting caught. Lord, I reckon Mama would have nearly died if she had known that her daughter was doing the forbidden things of life.
I lived for danger. Just hearing I could not do something gave me a reason to prove that I could — and I would, in spite of what anybody else thought. I was quite a daredevil. But on that night, after my final jump in the water, all I remember after that was Miss Sister bent over me, calling my name while the others cried. I had almost drowned, but Miss Sister came from out of nowhere like God's angel and saved me. The others had panicked, and this could have cost me my life. Not only did she save me from that, but she also saved me from the wrath of Mama and Papa.
I could still see her helping me to sneak back into the house and safely into bed and hear her saying, "Why, Miss Margaret, when I saw you headed that way, I could smell trouble on hand. Figured I'd best follow you. Lord knows that I am glad I did. Now, don't you go worryin' none, Miss Margaret. I won't tell a soul. You just rest easy now. This matter is safe with me. Why, Miss Margaret, I swear my lips will not part to tell anybody what you got yourself into this night."
That night she slept on the floor beside my bed, making sure I was all right. She risked her life for me. One day, I realized...
