Everything go quiet as him stride up the path in him shiny brown boots. Whispers start flying, why him coming, what him doing here? Is unspoken law that a massa must turn scarce when it come to slave funerals. Next thing I know, Massa march right up to Stella. Drag her aside. Shout at her that she have no right to turn Sammy into a servant for slaves. I see the shame rise up in her face and I don’t know how, but I find the courage to go stand by Stella side. Hold her hand tight in mine, to keep us both from trembling. Look up at Massa, the way Calla look sometimes, like a hawk looking at prey.

All the whispering stop. Everything go still, quiet, as Massa stare down at me with them pale, caneleaf-colour eyes. It feel like a long time, standing there, waiting to see what him going do, before him turn on Sammy, order him back to the Great House. March off down the path through them dogwood trees, Sammy, head hung low, following a few steps behind. The dividing line between us drawn clear for all to see. I know now, nothing going change things. No matter, is the first time I stand up for Stella, stand up to Massa, and it feel good.

Pretty soon, everybody return to eating and drinking and I stop looking over me shoulder, waiting for Massa to order Winston to beat me. All this time I been thinking is Massa love I been wanting, but is not. Is the love of Stella, of Mama, that I been longing for. Still reaching back to the time she used to love me up as a pickney. And as the day go on, I notice she start to look at me different, maybe even with pride.

After the sun go down and the moon start to rise somebody jump up, slap them hands together, shout out.

‘Me got him! Me got him!’

‘Got what?’

‘De shadow!’ somebody shout out. ‘Must catch de shadow!’

And with that everybody start jumping up and down. Catching and calling out.

‘Is me dat catch him!’

‘No is me!’

‘Him get away.’

‘No him don’t!’

‘Yes him do! See there.’

‘Me see him.’

‘Catch him! Catch him good.’

I don’t understand what them doing. Look to Calla and she doing it too. This go on for a long time. Finally Calla pull out a small coffin from under the bed. And the last person what say them catch the shadow, Calla wrestle it from them into the little box. Slam it shut. Lock it up tight.

When everybody calm down, Calla knock her cane on the ground, tell us to rest good, because come morning, it going be the funeral procession.