If you would indulge me, I'd like to post a short section of my WIP that contains an example of what I'm struggling with....could you please tell me if there's a problem with the POV?
A little set-up: Laura is Margaret's 12-year-old slave. Chloe is the cook/housekeeper, also a slave--she's raised Laura since her mother died in childbirth. Hunter is a free colored man and Laura's father, and he's come this day to offer to buy her freedom from her owner. It's tricky, because he's been visiting Laura for years, something her master expressly forbade many years ago.
***
Morning. Margaret, almost twelve years old, sat at her vanity table lost in appreciative contemplation of her features reflected in the mirror. The rising sun filtered through the multi-paned window of her bedroom. It spilled over her like rich syrup, spinning gold and red strands out of her light brown hair. Laura stood behind her rhythmically brushing that silky, waist-length hair with her good hand, and both were mesmerized by the fine crackle that rippled Margaret’s tresses as the brush swept through again and again. Laura admired Margaret’s fineness every bit as much as Margaret, and loved this morning ritual. She’d never had a doll. She didn’t need one. She had Margaret, and Margaret had her.
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Afternoon. Hunter’s heart thumped wildly in his chest as turned the buggy off the road and onto the farm path leading to the stone house. He felt as if he were moving through molasses, seeing himself from afar. He unhitched the horse with trembling hands, hobbled him, and left him to browse what greenery there was amongst the trees lining the drive. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and his nostrils filled with the sweet, thick scent of ripe strawberries. He patted the concealed waist-pouch beneath his shirt, comforted by the solid feel of good money.
He walked the familiar stone path towards the rear of the house. Chloe was making jam in the summer cookhouse, a small outbuilding near the main house and adjacent to the gardens. Baskets overflowing with small, sweet ripe strawberries lay outside the kitchen, and bees busily hummed about them, seeking nectar. Fragrant applewood smoke danced arabesques from the stone chimney, and he could hear the feminine chorus, a duet of chatter, from inside.
He stood in the entrance, and saw Chloe and Laura breaking up cones of sugar, mashing strawberries, and stirring pots of simmering crimson fruit, the smell now so rich he could taste strawberries at the back of his throat. No sound came out of his opened mouth when he tried to announce himself, but Chloe turned, sensing him. Her oversized wooden spoon dripped strawberry syrup onto the packed dirt floor.
"Hunter! Glory be!" She dropped the spoon on the table next to the cookstove, and pulled Hunter inside the steaming kitchen. "Master Van der Planck prob’ly comin’ by soon for his supper," she said. "You picked a dangerous time to visit this day."
"Chloe, don’t fret. I meant to come now. Laura, how you’ve grown! You gettin’ to be one fine young lady,’ he said, in a voice thick with emotion. "Don’t be shy, now. Come give your daddy a proper hug."
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That's the voice of pretty much 150-200 pages of text so far--a lot of work has gone into it. I wrote most of it before I knew anything about POV. I don't "hear" anything wrong with the point of observation, but I know how easy it is to miss things in my own work. It seems to me to be definitely omniscient, right? But is it "bad"? I'd really appreciate your thoughts.
SusanR
