“I couldn’t make it out,” I say, words spilling out before we’re even out of sight. “They took me to Richmond. I couldn’t—”

“Thank God,” he says. He leans us against the back of a tree and nuzzles the side of my head. He kisses my ear, my cheek, my forehead. “Thank you, holy Jesus.” He rubs his hand over my back and pats at my arms. “You’re all right,” he says, patting me some more.

“I’m fine. I just couldn’t run. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

He folds me into his arms and doesn’t say anything for a long time. “I waited from before sunset,” he finally says. “You were gone. You never made it to the green house. I didn’t know what to think.”

“Let’s leave tonight,” I say. “You’ve been there. You know the way. We could go right now. They won’t miss me till morning.”

Henry shakes his head and I push him from me with both hands. “I have to leave this place. I can’t stay here no more.”

Then he tells me about Finny and my bones go soft.

“Those slave catchers knew someone’s been hiding runaways,” he says.

I slide down to the ground and clutch my legs up into me.

He sits beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “We’ll find another way, Sarah. I promise.”

Chapter 62

Maple

It’s too early in the morning to rise so I lie awake on my bed, thinking of roses. I don’t want them in her crazy garden reminding me of my daughter every minute of every day. Keeping me wondering what he’s doing to her and when and how often till I’m out of my mind.

I breathe in deep, and warm humid air fills my nose. Under me, there’s a damp patch of body-shaped sweat. I spread my arms and legs like a star to try to get cool.

Dragging myself out of bed, I take up a bucket, and go to the well pump. I splash my face and arms with cool well water and let it drip down my back.

Cupping my hand, I slurp in a long drink. When I look up, I spy Sarah picking her way through the trees and darting into Bessie’s cabin.

Looks like she had a big night all right, but not with Red like Master thinks. I suck my teeth and shake my head. Here she’s got a chance to live decent with Red, and instead she goes sneaking around with that white blacksmith. Some people got the bed-wench baked into them.

It should be Sarah at Belle Grove Plantation. Not Rose.

After I fix the breakfast, I take myself out to Miss Martha’s flower garden, to get today’s planting done before the afternoon heat hits. She don’t want the magnolias. Says they’re too messy, when what she really means is the flowers grow from a tree, like I said. The rest of her garden’s gonna be exactly as bad as she described it.