combed through the grounds calling for her son. Jesse. The sound of her call, so disturbing in its shouts, shrieks, and moans, was said to have made the dead get up to seek new resting places. The Master had told Lily that Jesse had run away and that they’d send the dogs to find him. A runaway slave got their hamstring cut, to make any other attempts at freedom impossible. Lily would have gladly taken her Jesse, cut and barely able to walk, just to have him.
Jesse was never captured by the runaway patrollers.
Lucien never put the dogs on the boy’s scent.
XII
ROSALIE KNEW THE WAY TO THE COMMISSARY, although she had never walked to the little building or been inside. John-John and James had always been allowed to dash off to buy flour, salt, or an egg. She was to stay clear of the buildings near the house.
She entered, grateful for the shade. The sun hadn’t reached its full height or power. Hopefully, an afternoon rain would follow.
“Rosalie! Sister.” He reached for her hand and held it between both of his.
Did she dare call him brother?
“Monsieur Byron, it is so good to see you.”
His laughter was muffled. “Monsieur Byron? Is this what you’ve learned at school? To be a stranger to your own brother?”
Her skin warmed. “Are you teasing me, sir?”
Now he laughed outright. “Sir? Sir? This won’t do, Rosalie. I won’t have it. My sister cannot go about calling me ‘sir’ and ‘monsieur.’”
“Hello, Byron,” she said. “My brother.”
“That’s better,” he said. “Now tell me about life at school.”
How changed his voice was. Strong. And yet kind. And he laughed! Can six years change one so? Still, each time he spoke her name she heard those other names he had taunted her with. Darkielee. Niggerlee.
“I learned all they had to teach. I was either to become a novice and devote my life to charity. And sewing,” she added. “Or I was to leave. Monsieur Guilbert had plans for me and came to retrieve me.”
Byron laughed, this time small, still muffled. “Monsieur Guilbert!” Then he stopped himself but kept some amusement in his eyes. “I won’t laugh at you, Rosalie. Time has improved you greatly. You’re such a lady.”
“Thank you, Monsieur . . .”
“What’s that?” he asked.
She relented. “Byron.”
She managed to smile but remained guarded. Now that they stood near level and saw into each other’s eyes, she couldn’t help but think, Surely you remember, brother. Surely you remember about Jesse.
His eyes, his easiness, his demeanor, didn’t betray any part of their darker past. “How can I keep my word to not laugh at you if you continue to tempt me?”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You know, it isn’t often that Father’s plans are good ones. But I agree with this one.”
“You do?” She thought she had spoken too quickly or had cut him off. A thing she mustn’t do. She waited to be put in her place.
“Of course I do,” Byron said. “You will be a good clerk in the commissary. Father says your arithmetic is excellent. The measuring, meting out, and recording in the ledger should come easily to you. I’ll show you everything, although truthfully, your most constant task is to pray for customers. Real customers with more than a penny for flour.”
There were the times that Lucien would pull her up onto Zuk, behind Byron, while her brothers John-John and James looked up at the pink soles of her feet. There were times when Rosalie was reminded to watch her mouth, especially her tongue that grew increasingly sharp and fast. But always, there was the reminder of place. That her brother, Byron, was also her master.
“I see,” she said. Her father had already warned her.
“‘I see,’” he mimicked. “Just look at you. All grown up. How I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, as well,” she said.
He stared at her hard. “I can barely stand it. Where is my combatant nigger sister? What have the nuns done to you?”
And there it was. A touch of the familiar. She responded without missing a beat. “It’s like you say, Byron. I’m growing up.”
“Well. I’m glad you’re home. I’m glad you’ll be here in the commissary. I won’t be home for long,” he said. “And Father will need you.”
“The Academy!” Rosalie said. “Monsieur . . . Father says you are in the finest military institution.”
“You must see me in my uniform once before I leave.”
“If you say so, then I agree. I must see you in your uniform.”
“That time