Out From This Place Read Free Page A

this kitchen ’less I invite them in,” Rose said as she went toward the door. “Mistress is takin’ her afternoon rest. I keep things the way the cook use to keep them.” Her round eyes clouded.
    Easter scanned the kitchen. “That’s what’s different in here. What happen to the cook?”
    â€œShe die, not long after you leave,” Rose answered, her voice cracking slightly. Easter felt a lump rising in her own throat, as she remembered how she and Rose used to spend hours and days helping the cook prepare food for the Phillips family on special occasions, how they’d have the kitchen smelling of pies and puddings and candied yams.
    Rose brushed her hands quickly across her face. “I miss her,” she said.
    â€œSo you the cook now?”
    Rose nodded. “Yes. I the boss over these pot and pan. I get one of them children out of the yard to fill the tub with water, and you can clean yourself.” She called several children to bring her the tin tub out of the woodshed and fill it with water from a barrel outside the door. Easter gotup and stood by the pantry closet. If someone came in the kitchen, she’d duck inside.
    Rose dragged the tub inside. “Don’t look so worried. Nobody come in here.” She handed Easter a cake of homemade soap and a clean rag. Easter took off her filthy clothes and slid into the clear water. Rose held up the torn and filthy shirt and pants and wrinkled her nose. “Think we better burn these before mushrooms sprout out of them.”
    Easter closed her eyes as she soaked. “This better than peach cobbler or sweet potato pie or any good thing to eat.”
    Rose chuckled. “You must be hungry.”
    While Easter bathed and Rose cooked, Easter told her everything that had happened to her and Obi. When she finished her bath, Rose brought her a plain homespun dress and a hairbrush. Easter brushed her thick hair, enjoying the feel of the stiff bristles on her clean scalp.
    â€œNow, I see it’s my Easter.” Rose smiled. Her deep dimples appeared in her round face. Easter felt even more tired after the bath. But she was also hungry. Rose gave her a plate of rice and greens cooked with ham.
    â€œFood kind of scarce because of this war. Mistress always feedin’ them soldiers. She never did give the field hands too much ration. Only reason me and the cook ate good was because we work in the kitchen.”
    Easter wiped her mouth. “This like a feast after eatin’ nothing but pork fat and hardtack.”
    Rose grimaced. “Sound like something that put a hole in your stomach. What’s hardtack?”
    â€œBiscuits the soldiers make.”
    Easter dozed off at the table while waiting for Rose to finish serving dinner to Mistress Phillips. Rose shook her gently when she returned to the kitchen. “Easter, you sleep in the shed with me. I come back later to finish cleaning and to …” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œTo what?” Easter asked.
    â€œNothing,” she answered quickly, wrapping her plump arm around Easter’s shoulders. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”
    â€œRose, I happy to see you too, and I want to see Jason.”
    â€œLet’s go to the shed, and I give you the news.”
    It was dusk when they left the kitchen and walked toward the tiny shed where Rose slept. A black couple strolled from the slave quarters past the big house to the gate of the plantation. That struck Easter as unusual. She remembered that there used to be a curfew, and no one could walk toward the gate without being stopped.
Maybe they have a pass to go somewhere,
she told herself.
    When she and Rose reached the shed, Rose lit a candle. A lumpy old horsehair mattress covered with a patchwork quilt lay on the floor. A stool standing next to the mattress and a small scratched table were the only furniture in the room. A red and white gingham dress hung on a peg, and one