MISS AMY'S GHOST
Mis guided loyalty has it's own rewards.
On the morning of February 8, 1862, Amy Foster killed her husband. She turned white - dead white - when she realized what she had done. I found myself in the middle of a moral dilemma. Should I help the lady who had been so good to me? Or, should I turn her over to the law, so justice (such as it was in those days and times) could be served? I chose the former option.
Within moments, Mrs. Foster had composed herself.
"What should I do, Colleen?" she had asked, still holding the bloody kitchen knife in her hand.
"Well, Ma'am, it seems we should get rid of the body before Cook gets back. Won't do if the others find out."
Mrs. Foster looked at me and smiled.
"And, how do you suggest, we do that?"
I thought about it for just a minute and then had an idea.
"Well, Ma'am, Foreman had the boys digging a new well and it must be ready because I saw Jacob putting a cover on the old one early this morning."
I started rushing my words, "Foreman says that the old one is full of sulfur and stinks to high heaven. If'n we can get the body in there, no one would notice the smell. At least that's my way of thinking."
Which is exactly what we did. No one saw us, and by the time Cook returned from the village, it was a done deal. You couldn't even tell there had been a killing in the kitchen.
I guess I should explain why I was so willing to help Mrs. Foster. The answer is simple; she was a good woman. A good woman tied down to a cruel and hateful man twice her age. I wasn't sorry at all she had killed the man, it meant that he could no longer slip into my room at night and force his favors on me. I was her indentured servant, her parents had given her my contract four years earlier as a wedding present. The hope that this might win me my freedom played a part in it also. It didn't work out that way, no sir, not that way at all.
Miss Amy, as I started calling her, was real strong those first few days after her husband disappeared. She played her role perfectly. When, come to find out, the village harlot had moved on, some folks even hinted that old Mister Foster had gone with her. Other folks suspected he was dead somewhere, killed by a damn Yankee but they never did find his body. After a year, Miss Amy stopped wearing her widow weeds and started stepping out in society. That was when it really all began. That was the night she began going crazy.
She was happy that night. There was a ball in Savannah, and nothing was going to stop her from attending. For weeks, I measured and sewed until I got her new gown just the way she wanted it. The color was a perfect sky blue, matching her eyes exactly; the taffeta material shimmered and rustled as she twirled around. She was so excited and I was excited for her. I guess it was the excitement that gave me the courage to ask how much longer my indenture contract was for.
"For life, Colleen. For life."
My jaw must have hung in disbelief, so she went on, "You don't really think I could let you go now, do you? Knowing what you know?"
She just stood there and stared at me. There wasn't any hatred or anger in her eyes, just this faraway look that baffled me at the moment.
"Besides where could you go? You belong here with me, Colleen. I need you."
That said, she swept down the staircase and out to the coach that was waiting. I thought about her words a lot that night and came to the understanding that she was right. I had no where else to go. Miss Amy was good to me; after all she had just given me all those black clothes from her mourning period. With a bit of lace and a few frills, they could be made up into something pretty. And she didn't treat me like a servant much anymore either. More like a poor relation. In the end I decided I didn't have it so bad, after all.
She got home from the ball early that night, looking like she had seen a haint or something. As I helped her undress, I asked.
"There was a man there tonight that looked enough like James to be his twin. He was just standing there, in a corner, by himself. When I asked about him, no one could recall ever seeing him. In fact, they said there were no men there that looked like James. Made me feel like I was going out of my mind."
