her best effort, it took Ariane over an hour to cross the field-her basket of weeds and the guards’ careful scrutiny made her movement difficult-but in time she eventually made her way to Susan Ross.
As she approached the teen, the first thing she noticed were her eyes. They were striking, the color of the perfect summertime sky. But it was more than their light blue hue that made them stand out. It was also the tears.
Apparently, Kelly Metz was right. Her cousin was close to losing it.
Ariane inched closer, hoping to comfort the girl with a word or two, but the move backfired. Susan sensed Ariane’s approach and tensed with fear.
“Get away from me!” she shrieked. “Just leave me alone!”
The outburst stopped Ariane in her tracks. She assumed the plea was loud enough to be heard by the guards, and the last thing in the world she wanted to do was attract their attention. She had seen how rough they were with the other slaves and desperately wanted to avoid that.
“Calm down,” Ariane whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine!” she screeched, not giving a damn if the guards heard her or not. “Are you happy? Now get away from me!”
Ariane was flabbergasted by Susan’s behavior, but under the circumstances she was willing to cut the kid some slack. “You’ve got to be quiet.”
She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting a stampede of guards to be headed her way, and felt a great sense of relief when she realized their attention was still focused on the men.
“I realize you don’t know me and probably don’t trust me, but your cousin Kelly sent me over here to check on you.”
The frightened girl stared at Ariane coldly. Her body language and icy glare suggested that trust was no longer in her vocabulary.
“You know, I saw you and Scooter at the ceremony this morning. He sure is a cutie.”
Susan blinked a few times but didn’t respond.
“How old is he?”
She licked her parched lips, giving the question some thought. “Eight.”
Ariane grinned, relieved that the girl was willing to talk. “Well, he’s just about the cutest eight-year-old I’ve ever seen. He looks like a little athlete.”
Susan nodded, but refused to comment.
“How’s he holding up? He seems like he’s doing pretty well considering the circumstances.”
She shrugged, never shifting her eyes from Ariane’s face.
“And you? What about you? How are you doing?”
Susan breathed deeply, sucking in the air through her dry mouth. “What do you want? There has to be some reason you’re talking to me. You don’t even know me.”
Ariane smiled warmly. “Like I said, your cousin wanted me to check on you.”
The answer didn’t sit well with Susan. “Then why didn’t Kelly come over here herself? Why’d she send you?”
Ariane moved closer, hoping her proximity would lower the volume of Susan’s voice. “No reason. I’m trying to talk to as many people as possible, and when I talked to your cousin, she mentioned that she was worried about you.”
“She’s worried about
me
? That would be a first from my family.”
“Come on! Don’t be silly. Your family’s worried about you. They’ve got to be.”
The statement brought a new batch of tears to the teen’s eyes. “You don’t know my family very well, do you? None of them have even asked how I’m doing. Not one of them.”
“Well, I’m asking you. How are you doing, Susan?”
“How the hell do you think I’m doing? Every time I turn around one of the guards is touching me. Last night I saw my dad’s ear get cut off. And when I do get to see my family, all my parents care about are my younger brothers. I mean, would it kill them to ask how I am?”
Ariane couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Despite the gravity of their situation, Susan was showing signs of sibling jealousy. How petty could someone be? “Don’t take it personally. I’m sure your parents are paying them more attention because they feel they need it. You’re older. They probably figure you can handle things by yourself.”
Susan wiped the moisture from her face. “Great! You’re on their side, too.”
“It’s not about sides. It’s about-”
“Just get away from me! I don’t want to hear it.”
“Susan.”
“Get away from me!” she repeated louder. “I don’t want to talk to you!”
Ariane pleaded for her to calm down, but the teen refused to listen. “Susan, if you keep making noise, the guards are going to come over and punish us.”
“Good! At least that’ll get you away from me!”
“Susan, I’m just trying to help.”
“I told you. I don’t want your help.” Susan picked up her wicker basket and began walking away. “And if you follow me, I’ll scream for the guards. I swear to God. I’ll scream.”
Despite the threat, Ariane was tempted to run after her. In her mind, she figured Susan wasn’t a bad kid. She was just a traumatized teen, one who was looking for someone to cling to. And if Ariane could be that person, she’d love to be able to help.
Unfortunately, the Plantation wasn’t the best place to make friends, so Ariane’s act of kindness would have to wait for another day. That is, if both of them could last that long.
CHAPTER 38
AFTER
waking from his nap in the plantation house, Master Jackson strolled into the field to check on the current group of slaves. As leader of the guards, he had many important duties at the Plantation, but most of them occurred before guests were even brought to the island. Jackson was in charge of training the guards, a task he shared with Ndjai since several of the men were straight off the boat from Africa. If it hadn’t been for the language barrier, Jackson would’ve preferred training the guards by himself, but as it was he didn’t really have a choice. He was forced to work with Ndjai, even though the African gave him the creeps.
Ironically, Jackson often elicited the same reaction from women, sending off a dangerous vibe that females instinctively disliked. It hadn’t always been like that. The bad vibe was more of a recent thing for Jackson. As a youngster, he’d been very effective with the fairer sex. He was suave, polite, and romantic. But all of that changed in a heartbeat, one misstep that altered Jackson’s life and his attitude toward women-and white people-forever.
He’d been a young associate at one of New Orleans’s top law firms, and as his friends used to say, he had the world by its balls. He was handsome, intelligent, and personable. People often confused him with Wesley Snipes, but he was quick to point out their mistake. No, he used to tell them, my name is Harris Jackson, and before long, people will say