Miss Hannah was impatient to see her brother, but Mama asked her to stay for a moment, to drink a cup of tea. “You’ll see him soon enough,” she said.

“But my brother,” she kept saying, even as she clung to Lucien’s arm, her legs still soft from lying down for so long. “He made it all right? He doin’ fine?”

Mama would only say, “I’ll take you to him.” Her voice was even, but she would not look Miss Hannah in the eye. I had never seen my mama ashamed of anything before, so I did not know to recognize it. I stayed close, eager to hear what Mama would say to Miss Hannah.

“Ben Daisy is—”

“Ben what?” Miss Hannah said.

Mama reddened. “It is what the children sometimes call him here.”

“Why would they say that?”

“He, well—”

“He has a good Christian name.” Miss Hannah kept talking. “We was gonna choose ours together, when we got free. We was gonna be the Smiths, on account of our mama saying our daddy always wanted a smithy someday. Why you call him by that woman’s name?”

“Then you know her?”

Miss Hannah sniffed, in distaste. “Before we agreed to run, he fell hard in love with that woman. I thought it would be good for him. He was just beat something awful for trying to run, and after that I thought he was lost to us. He only stared at the wall. But then he found Daisy, and she liked him enough. I hoped it was a good thing. Have a little fun, remember what sweetness this world can hold, so he’d want to stay here in it. He was talkin’ ’bout drowning before he met Daisy. But he met her and he was happy. For a while. He turned sick with love. That Daisy, he’d do anything for her. She didn’t deserve him. You know, he’d save up what little money he could and buy her butter to lick.

“And you know how that little girl repaid him? Three springs ago she ran away without him, even though she knew me and him was fixing to run, too. That little girl didn’t even warn him or nothing, just up and disappeared. They found her body a few miles away, with the man she run with, both of ’em torn apart by the paddyroller’s dogs.

“And every spring like this, he pines for her worse and worse. I thought he’d do better when we made our escape. That’s why I had him go first, even though it was risky. He didn’t even want freedom anymore. He says she’s his love. Says she’s all he’s ever had. Easier to love a haint than this broken world. For him, anyways. And if I have to hear that Daisy’s name one more time, I’ll scream.”

Miss Hannah set down her mug and glared, back and forth, at Mama and Madame Elizabeth, her chest heaving.

“We’ll take you to him, then,” Mama said, her voice low.