"Ruin and Redemption"

A Desperate Dream of Happiness

“I guess I’ll use a knife then.” Derrick took the knife sitting on the table, the one Lizzie had just recently threatened to kill him with. It felt unfamiliar to him, as he had very rarely participated in preparing a meal, and had never done so in his adult life. The task brought to mind a memory of the slave who had raised him.

Derrick remembered sneaking into the kitchen and asking Calpurnia if he could handle the tool. It must have been a huge risk to Cal to allow him to participate in the work of slaves. Nevertheless, she had done so, urging him to keep it a secret.

A surge of intense regret swept over Derrick as he remembered something else long forgotten---his childish delight in the task he had completed. Just after chopping a carrot very similar to this one, Derrick had run to his mother, scrambled up into her lap and proceeded to tell her everything in full hearing of his father. He had been so enamored of the whole process, the feel of the knife, the tapered shape of the carrot with its varying widths, the bright airy green leaves contrasting with the solid orange root! Even the way the root had gotten shorter and shorter, as with great effort and plentiful help his childish hands cut off the irregularly shaped rounds. He was so eager to share his discoveries; He held nothing back. His childish mind had not connected the shuffling gait of his childhood caretaker, nor her wince of pain the next time he hugged her, with the story he had told his parents about his time helping to prepare the meal.

But his adult mind was able to see what his child mind had not. Calpurnia had endured a painful whipping simply for allowing him to help her prepare the meal. Now, Derrick's hands shook, and he felt nauseous. He could have taken her out of that situation and brought her here, where whippings were rare. But he had left her there to endure whatever his parents saw fit to give her. And he had done so only because of her dark complexion. Derrick was crying in earnest now as he struggled to remember her words and what she had taught him about handling a knife and chopping a carrot. He was so distraught he could hardly hold on to the carrot.

“And you have not even started on the onions yet, mon chere,” Esme teased, reappearing. “Patsy agreed and is on her way; Isobel will get her stitches tonight... Do you cry for your wife, Derrick? Or is it her threat to kill you? You know she did not mean it. That is her temper. She loves you too well, Derrick.”

“No, no. That was unexpected and disturbing. Though knowing her, I’m not surprised she overreacted to finding you and Izzie together. Esme that wasn’t wise; it was rash, but I do understand. You meant well, I know. You always do….And I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I was remembering the slave, I mean, the “worker” if you prefer, who raised me. She taught me how to cut a carrot. Well, she tried anyway. I don’t seem to be having much luck.”

“Here, allow me. I forget sometimes how helpless you are without your workers. But have no fear, Derrick, I will teach you. You will learn, and you will not need them so much. We will make this meal together. And perhaps, if you like, every time Patsy is off. But, if you need a rest, I can make it on my own. Perhaps you should sit, you do not look well.”

“No, I suppose not. It’s too much effort to stand right now, and I’m still overcome by my emotions. She’s dead and I miss her. And I never really thanked her for raising me. It must have been very difficult with my parents being so strict with their workers.”

“Oh, Derrick, mon chere! I am tres sorry. But remember she loved you, too, Derrick. I know. Don’t ask me how. She was horribly abused, oui. She did not serve in a household where she was appreciated. But she was delighted by the little boy she raised. She loved you, quite simply.”