She took the boy's wrist and pulled the finger out of his mouth. With an effort, she made her voice low and reasonable. "Young master, you are too old for this habit." He lay still, looking at her. Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep. Ven struggled with an impulse to wipe the drool off his face.
In the dark, she began to understand what her position would be in this rich man's house. They did not marry her to make her a fine lady. They wanted her for slave labor. Yet, being a daughter-in-law, she was not entitled to the salary a servant would have been paid. To her surprise, Ven found she could not cry. Soon exhaustion claimed her.
Copyright © by Nguyen-Andrews, LLC
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
- PW Starred Review
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