Baking for widower William and his girls has become a competition for the Colored single women who attend Wilson Moravian Church, each woman endeavoring to gain William’s favor by out baking the others. William, owner of five acres of prime farmland and two mules, is one of only a few Colored men in town to have bought his own freedom, before The War ended and all Coloreds were freed. In addition, he bought his wife Sallie’s freedom, and the two were married in the White Moravian church in 1859. Colored folk in Bethania brag on William Conrad, his wife, and his children like he’s a White man, talk about how all of the Conrad daughters were born free.
Annie notices the time, it is 6:29.
Mr. Wilson would depart Cherry Grove Plantation to pick up the cookie order in a minute. Ten minutes later he would knock on Annie’s door, load the cookies into the carriage and travel 17 miles down Highway 8 from Bethania to Salem to the bakery where Annie’s former coworkers, Sarah and Emma, are already at work. The women’s workday starts each weekday and Saturday morning at 6:00 sharp. By now, they will be elbow deep in Moravian Love Feast bun dough, a bakery staple.
4 eggs beaten
4 cups sugar
1 cup soft butter
2 tablespoons salt
1 cup warm mashed potatoes
3 cakes yeast
2 gallons flour
Since age 12, Annie feels she and the women have together made enough Moravian Love Feast buns to feed the whole town of Salem. Now, 14, Annie thinks she could even make perfect buns with her eyes closed. She shudders, remembering early morning carriage rides into town with Mr. Wilson after her mother passed away, then later after her father died. Buggy rides to Salem were fun for a while. She still misses the fellowship of working at the bakery with Sarah and Emma, and their mothering of her. However, Annie does not miss those early morning rides alone with Mr. Wilson. She does not call him Reverend Wilson anymore.
Annie removes her apron, pours cool water into the metal face bowl, and coupling her protruding belly over the kitchen counter, splashes water on her face.
Only two more weeks until the baby is due. She hopes it’s a boy. Hopes he is dark, mahogany complexioned, like herself. But prays, please God, please, don’t let his eyes be laurel green. There is no honor in this laurel.
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