Finding Hope: Keeping Faith

Chapter 9: Apple Of My Eye

     Mrs. Smith had me fetch apples from their orchard. Enough to fill up a good sized bucket. She told me we were going to bake an apple pie, and she'd be treating all her hard workers.  I've never tasted a piece of pie before. She'd also be making a turkey, and a few sides. She said she'd invite guests, but they wouldn't want to see a bunch of Negroes together that weren't working. As I walked a few paces, I ran into William who was chopping wood for the winter season coming up. He was bought by Mister and Misses Smith a few weeks ago.  He told me to not grow too attached because these whites could sell us for the slightest mistake we make, which would make us less profitable for them. Mister and Misses Smith are too friendly to ever do that. 

     I nod and give William a small smile. "Good day, William." He wipes sweat from his brow. 

"Hello." His face showed no emotion. He's a hard person to read.

     "How's working so far?"

He takes another whack at the wood before answering me. "It's work, but I ain't gettin' no money for it." He splits the wood in two when he takes another swing at it. 

     "But you have a roof over your head, and you're able to eat food like a white." William sighs from my comment. 

"Ya shouldn't be accepting those kinds of things. They just tryin' ta make ya believe they good peoples. They gon' just throw ya out like ya nothin'." He glances away to set a piece of wood onto the tree trunk. He gives me a sideways glance, then looks down at my bucket. "Don't ya have somewhere to be?" 

     "Yeah, I do. I just wanted to check up on you and see how you were adjusting." 

He nods at me, then towards the kitchen window. Surely enough, Misses Smith was spying on us through that window. "I'm sure Misses Smith will be checkin' up on ya if ya don't get started soon." 

     I parted ways with him and headed towards the orchard they owned. I picked apples for what felt like hours. I was so tempted to take a bite of one. The pure red color covering the entire fruit. The feeling of the sweet juice trickling down my chin when I take too big a bite. My mouth watered at the idea of it. 

     I started heading back as to not make Misses Smith mad. On my way back, I passed William again. He continuously chopped wood. "If ya keep looking at those apples like that, someone gon' think ya stealin." 

     I lowered my eyes and kept walking to the house. Once I got in, Misses Smith glowered at me and crossed her arms. "Please explain to me why you were out there for an hour, when the task should have taken you no more than half that time." 

I looked her in her eyes, "I'm so sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again." 

     Mrs. Smith didn't move a muscle. "I asked for an explanation, not an apology." 

"I had a word with William, ma'am." I glanced down, thinking about what William said. 

     She pointed her hand at the counter. "Just put the bucket there, please." She rubbed the sides of her temples. "If Mr. Smith were to see you, he would not have been happy." When I looked into her fretful eyes, she continued, "You are very lucky that my husband has been in his study." She took a deep breath and let it out. "Let's start making the pie."