"Ruin and Redemption"

Scarlett's Bold Plan

Wanted to apologize for Derrick's language in the last chapter, had meant to imply rather than state Derrick's exact profanity. Sorry for not catching that and editing it out for you!

Hope you're enjoying the story despite that! Updates will continue regularly on Wednesdays and Sundays from now on until the story is finished. I just returned from visiting my parents at their home during the Thanksgiving holiday and then travelling to Charleston for  a few days for further research and inspiration for this and other works.

It was September and Becky and Michael David were planting the Winter crop of greens, onions and root vegetables. Michael David was pulling a large squash off the vine and bringing it to the edge of the garden along with the other vegetables. Becky had her skirt pulled up just enough to support a variety of  squashes (including a few zucchinis), and even a few ears of corn. Some of the stalks had managed to grow this year despite the weather conditions. She brought them to the edge of the garden, and began separating them out into different categories. She and Michael David then arranged the vegetables neatly in a round, flat, woven container for the Big House, where Derrick and Lizzie lived. Becky was proud of how neatly the vegetables fit into the container and how healthy and colorful they were. She had wiped the dirt off with her skirts before arranging them. Patsy would be by later to pick up the Harvest and take it in to the Big House. The vegetables that were left over, Becky would divide between her mother and Patsy. She was grateful to be able to have them. Sometimes there would even be enough to share with the slaves in the field. Patsy might use them to make a special meal on a Sunday if she had the time and energy left, and there were plenty of extra vegetables.

Becky had always liked Lizzie, and was so glad that now Mr. Derrick had said that Lizzie could teach her and her brother again. She looked forward to seeing Lizzie, and she liked the books, too, although her mother was never completely happy to see Lizzie. Becky had found out from Patsy once that Miss Lizzie had whipped her mother, ‘cause Miss Lizzie had been in love with her father and had caught him with her mother and lost her temper. It was hard to imagine, but she supposed it was true. Otherwise, why wouldn’t her mother like Miss Lizzie?

Becky was fifteen now, and was starting to wonder which of the men she might marry. She knew already she was going to marry someone Black like her father. Mr. Derrick had gotten nicer, and even smiled at her most of the time now, but she wanted a real husband, not a white lover like her mother had.

She didn’t want to make her children stand outside whenever the white lover came by, as her mother sometimes did. It always made Becky feel strange to have to go and visit someone else at any hour of the day or night. Or at least, that’s the way it had been. Things were more predictable now, but she still remembered a time or two when she and Michael David had stood outside in bare feet on a cold night, not wanting to wake Patsy up, and not really knowing where else to go.

Derrick had sent them out of the Big House and away from Lizzie and brought them back to their mother, Scarlett, which had been strange at first. She still did not completely feel that Scarlett was her mother, nor did she feel that way about Lizzie. In her head, they were Aunt Lizzie and Aunt Scarlett or Sister Scarlett and Aunt Lizzie. Aunt Patsy had always been there, though. She had been the one to let her help make the biscuits when Derrick was away, or bring her something to keep her busy when Lizzie had been too ill to take care of her and Michael David. It had been scary living in the house with just Lizzie and Derrick at night, but she had always felt better when she heard Patsy come in in the morning. She knew Derrick couldn’t get to her then, and if Aunt Lizzie had a crying fit or talked to herself, Patsy would still remember to look out for her and her brother.

At the last singing on the plantation, there had been some slaves that had come in from another plantation. She had seen one of the men looking at her, and she had smiled at him. He seemed nice, and she wanted to see him again. His name was William, and he belonged to Mr. Abernathy a couple plantations over. He couldn’t stay long, because it was a long walk to Mr. Abernathy’s place, but he was glad he could come, he’d told her mother, who was there looking out for her. She wasn’t eager for her daughter to make plans with any of the slaves. She thought some day the children would go North and they would both marry rich white people there, and have big fine homes. After all, they would be free.