“Are you afraid of me, miss?”
“Should I be?”
“No, miss. I would never hurt you. I swear.”
“They call you the brute.”
He winced. “Yes, miss. Because of my size. Because I look scary. But I’m not brutal. I’ve never hurt anyone. Not on purpose.”
“But you could if you wanted to.”
“I could.” He looked me in the eye again. “But I wouldn’t. Not with you. Not with anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
Something in his eyes – sadness, resignation, a sweetness that didn’t suit his appearance – made me make a decision.
“Josiah, I want to be honest with you. I don’t want this any more than you probably do. My father is desperate. I’m not a good match for marriage. He thinks you’re the only solution. But if we’re going to do this, I need to know. Are you dangerous?”
“No, miss.”
“Are you cruel?”
“No, miss.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“Never, Miss. I swear it on everything I hold sacred.”
His sincerity was undeniable. He truly believed what he said.
“So I have another question. Can you read?”
The question took him by surprise. A flash of fear crossed his face. Reading was illegal for slaves in Virginia. But after a long moment, he said softly, “Yes, miss. I taught myself. I know it’s not allowed, but I… I couldn’t help it. Books are gateways to places I’ll never visit.”
“What are you reading?”
“Whatever I can find. Old newspapers, sometimes books I borrow. I read slowly. I haven’t learned well, but I read.”
