Douglass’ Women Read Online Free PDF

Man among men.”
    He laughed harsh. “Here I’m bleeding on your clean bed and you think I’m a man among men. More like a fool among slaves.”
    “I don’t believe that.”
    “Believe? What does it matter what you believe?”
    I drew back, staring at the dark red blooming in the water. “I need a fresh basin.”
    He murmured, “Please, wait. I’m sorry. My words were uncalled for. Forgive me.”
    I nodded, repeated, “I need fresh water.”
    In the kitchen, I caught my breath, tried to soothe myhurt. I tossed the red water outside the door. The moon was rising, drawing the tide high. I turned back into the kitchen. Poured water from the pitcher. My hurt turned to anger. “Young, pretty girls worth believing,” I thought spitefully. “Think me an old auntie, like I don’t have nothing to say. Humpf. I’ll set Mister Bailey on his way. That I will.”
    He was sitting. A bit shaky, but facing the door, watching for me with his swollen eyes.
    “I admire you, Miss Murray. Your words, especially your respect, mean a great deal to me. I’m sorry I’m not more worthy of it.”
    All my upset faded. “Hush. Lay down. Let me take care of you.” I bustled forward.
    “All my life,” he said, “I’ve been trying to be a man, trying to be treated as a man. A gentleman like any other. When I forget myself, slavery’s won.”
    He was pale. Blood drained sluggishly from his brow and lips. “Mister Bailey, please lay down. Let me finish my work.”
    “Only if you call me Frederick.”
    “Frederick. Freddy. Anything you like as long as you lay down.” I lifted his feet and helped him lean backwards onto the cot.
    “No one’s called me Freddy.”
    “Then I will. My special name for you since you don’t like Mister Bailey.”
    He gripped my hand and I was surprised by the strength left in him. “I like Mister Bailey. It has a fine ring. But too formal among friends.”
    His eyes were gold and hazel. Green specks floated inside. I sighed. Even tore up, he was handsome. And I couldsee he was trying to smile, even though his mouth hurt. “Friends,” he said.
    I shook his hand.
    We were “friends,” and I felt happier than I’d ever felt in my whole life. I worked as quickly as I could. Cleaning wounds, pressing ointment, tying on bandages. Friends be a start on the road I picked.
    Since being little, Mam said I had a way with healing. I nursed all my brothers and sisters when they got spots, sore throats, gnashes in their limbs. Even nursed Mam when she had her last baby. Next to keeping house, I would’ve been pleased to heal people. There was that same sense of tidiness, of making things right.
    In the kitchen, I drained broth from a chicken, heated the juice with rosemary and a dash of pepper to lift spirits. Then I filled a cup with Mister Baldwin’s liquor.
    I encouraged Mister Bailey to sip the liquor, finish off the soup. When his lips and cheeks gained color, I felt so happy.
    My room smelled good and warm. Rosemary, columbine ointment, and Mister Bailey’s—Freddy’s—healing body all seemed sweet. Through the window, a touch of sea blew in. The same cooling, comforting smell I remembered from my family’s porch.
    Freddy just laid still, recovering, his eyes closed.
    Feeling close, I imagined this was our house, our home. I touched his hair. He didn’t move.
    I said, “Let me buy you free. I can do it. Buy you free.”
    First, I didn’t think he heard me. His eyelids fluttered.
    Outside, crickets sang. Moonlight made shadows on the wall. Him, on his back. Me, on my knees bending over. His eyes opened but I watched his mouth.
    Who can tell what love be? Mam and Pa loved, I think. I saw them talk for hours, saw baby after baby. Was that love? If so, I’d be content.
    “Freedom is an illusion,” growled Bailey. “Where can a colored man go and live free?”
    He sucked in air. I saw bitterness rising in him. He wasn’t talking to me. He was lost somewhere inside himself, trying to figure