All Men Are Created Equal

Later, after dinner when everyone had retired, Mr. Heckerson paced through the hallway that divided the two rooms of his hotel from the large reception room. He was pacing in the dark, debating how he would approach Thelma. He could see the faint light of a candle flame reflected through the crack of her door. Thelma must still be awake. When he finally worked the courage to confront her, he turned the doorknob slowly, trying not to be heard. The scene he witnessed on the bed left him guarded. Thelma was sitting at the edge holding the letter he had given her in the dining room, staring at it in silence. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet from tears. She did not look up. Elise slept next to her peacefully. "Bad news?" he asked. "Jupa is dead," she said in between sobs, still not looking up. Mr. Heckerson remembered the old woman. Everyone in the local plantations knew of her. He didn't know how old she was but remembered her being old already when he was only a child. "l'm sorry to hear it." "John Berry said he wanted to have her buried by my mother's grave but Ms. Hemmings would not allow it. Since it's her property and Jupa was her slave there was nothing he could do. They buried her in the same lot but not next to each other." She lifted her head just for a moment, as if to emphasize her previous comments about slavery. Even in death, slaves nor their friends had a right to choose where they would rest their bones. "Ms. Hemmings will always be controversial." "Controversial," she said, reading her letter once more. "It' s evil. Just plain evil." "We have to finish our discussion," he added. "Can you come out to the main room?" I will be out in a few minutes." He turned and left the room. This was a different Thelma he was seeing, independent and belligerent. He did not quite know how he was going to handle her yet. I hope you will feel better," he said to her as she walked into the reception room. He was sitting on the sofa, now dressed down, only wearing his pants and shirt. She nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs. "She was like a grandmother to me," Thelma explained. "I used to be afraid of her when I was a little girl. She seemed so strict and rude sometimes, yet time showed me that she was a wise old lady, probably irreplaceable." I want to to discuss your return to America," he answered. She stood up to face him. Even sitting down, she could not look at him straight in the eye. "I haven't decided that I would return to America and you can't decide for me, Mr Heckerson." "You're part of my household, Thelma." "I'm not your slave anymore." There was a long pause and he sighed. "What would become of Elise? She already thinks you are her mother. Imagine what that child would go through if she's sent back to America without you. "You did not consider that when you sent her to France without me," she shot back. "You found her a replacement then. You could do the same now." "No, I couldn't That was only a temporary situation. This is permanent. It is obvious that we are living in precarious times in France right now. 1 don't want Elise exposed to any danger It's best that I get her out before this country bursts into flames. Besides, there are other issues involved." "What other issues?" He did not respond, only stared. "There are some things that better remain unsaid" Right across from him, a battle was going on inside the young woman. Her heart broke thinking that she would lose Elise forever. She had nursed the child from the moment she came out of her mother's womb. Elise was right to call her mother. She was her mother. Could she exchange such unselfish love for that freedom that she would gain in France and that she cherished so much? And what about that other issue that Mr. Heckerson kept trying to address? What about her feelings for Mr. Heckerson? Could she walk away from them? She could not contain the tears that she shed. John Berry's letter with its terrible news had weakened her resolve. "Freedom comes first. I want to be free." He stood from the sofa and walked towards her. He had been trying to make contact for months. Now he did not hesitate anymore. He wanted her more than ever. He reached down and kissed her. It was a long passionate kiss, one that she too had waited for but dared not to look for. He slowly removed her from the chair and she let him. He brought her to the sofa and then anxiously removed her clothes. It was different from before and she felt it. It was passionate, as if he had finally been smitten by a passion that was prohibited and that he had spent so much time fighting But he had finally given in. It may have lasted an hour, she could not remember. But she woke up in the middle of the night with him lying next to her, sound asleep. She got up quickly. "Elise is alone in bed. I must go." He did not answer but grabbed her arm and pulled her down to kiss her. "All right," he said. "Go ahead. I will go to bed too. The coachman will be here early in the morning to take you back. He found your things inside the carriage. We will talk in the morning."