The Freedom Maze by Delia Sherman Page A

followed Canada outside. But she couldn’t make her understand.
    “I don’t know ’bout no bathroom,” the little girl said. “The water in the cistern here’s for drinking. Sometimes we washes in a barrel, but in summer, mostly we swims.”
    “I don’t have to wash,” Sophie said. “I have to tinkle.”
    “Tinkle?”
    Sophie was ready to die of embarrassment. “Pee.”
    Giggling, Canada led her to a little wooden house out in the field behind the cabins. It smelled foul, it was full of flies, and there wasn’t any paper, only a basket of scratchy moss to clean up with. Sophie was past caring.
    Supper was greens and a little chicken and the water they’d been boiled in — pot liquor, Africa called it — and a deliciously creamy spoon bread, eaten more or less in silence, which suited Sophie just fine. She was tired and frightened, and hadn’t the first idea what slaves liked to talk about.
    As soon as the last crumb of spoon bread disappeared, Canada and Africa cleared the table, Poland put the baby to bed in a basket, and all three men went out into the night — to hoe their vegetable-patch, Canada said. Sophie sat in Ned’s chair, trying to keep out of the way and wondering where she was going to sleep.
    A woman came to the door asking Africa to step round to the Big House, as Korea’s baby was on the way. Africa bustled around pulling gourds and dried plants from the rafters and tying them in a sack, then left in a hurry.
    Canada yawned. “Time we go to bed. Momi, she sometimes out all night when a baby come.”
    She took Sophie’s hand and led her into a tiny back room. Sophie could just make out two ticking mattresses, covered with pieced quilts, taking up most of the floor space. Canada gestured to the smaller one. “This my bed,” she said. “But you can share.”
    Sophie had never shared a bed in her life and didn’t want to start now. But there wasn’t anyplace else to sleep. She began to cry helplessly.
    “Aww,” Canada said. “You homesick for you Momi?” She put her skinny arms around Sophie’s waist and her head against her shoulder. “Don’t you cry. She send you a message, I ’spect, next boat from New Orleans. You going to like it here. Folks is nice, mostly, and Old Missy and Dr. Charles, they don’t believe in whipping ’less you do something real bad. Lie down now and go to sleep. Everything look better in daylight. You wait and see.”

An iron clanging woke Sophie while it was still dark.
    “Morning bell,” a child’s voice informed her. “Momi say I supposed take you to Mammy. Can you watch Saxony while I do my chores?”
    The mattress crackled as Canny scrambled away. Sophie sat up and rubbed her face. She felt grubby from sleeping in her clothes, hungry, and even more tired than she’d been when she lay down. The adventures of the day before hadn’t been a dream after all. The Creature had really taken her back in time, and her ancestors had really mistaken her for a slave. The magic hadn’t ended at midnight or when she went to sleep. It looked like she was stuck in the past until the Creature took her home.
    If it even intended to. Maybe, Sophie thought, the Creature was an evil spirit, whose treats were really tricks. Maybe it was laughing itself sick in whatever betwixt and between place it lived. She just hoped leaving her here until the war started wasn’t its idea of a good joke.
    She would have liked a real bathroom with running water and Cheerios for breakfast. What she got was an outhouse, a bucket to wash in, and a hunk of cold cornbread, just like everybody else.
    The sky grew pearly with dawn. Africa and her menfolk left for work. Canada handed Saxony to Sophie, who held the dark little thing gingerly while Canada rolled up the mattresses and swept the floors with a straw broom nearly as big as she was. By the time everything was tidy, the sun had burned away the mist and Saxony was fussing.
    Canada heaved the baby onto her hip. “I fetch Saxy