"Yes, I know exactly what I'm doing."
What I didn't know, what no one could have predicted, was that this desperate solution was going to become the greatest love story I had ever had.
First, let me tell you about Josiah. They called him the brute. He was seven feet and seven, or even less than an inch. 300 pounds of pure muscle, the fruit of years spent at the forge. Hands capable of bending iron bars. A face that made even the tallest men recoil when he walked into a room. Everyone was afraid of him. Slaves and free men kept their distance. White visitors to our plantation would look at him and whisper, "Have you seen how big he is? Whitmore created a monster in the forge. »
But here's what no one knew. Here's what I was going to discover. Josiah was the kindest man I had ever met.
My father called me into his office in March 1856, a month after Foster refused. A month after I stopped believing that I would one day be different on my own.
"No white man will want to marry you," she said frankly. "That's the reality. But you need protection. When I die, this inheritance will go to your cousin Robert. He will sell everything, give you a pittance, and leave you dependent on distant relatives who don't want you. »
"Then leave the estate to me," I said, even though I knew it was impossible.
"Virginia law does not allow it. Women cannot inherit alone, especially not... He pointed at my wheelchair, unable to finish his sentence. "So, what do you propose?"
"Josiah is the strongest man in this business. He's smart. Yes, I know he reads in secret. Don't be so surprised. He is healthy, capable, and from what I heard, kind despite his size. He won't abandon you because he's legally obligated to stay. He will protect you, provide for your needs, take care of you. »
