by Lynn Austin
Missy gave a short, humorless laugh. “The blind leading the blind. No doubt you’re teaching people who are just as stupid and ignorant as you are.”
Anna smiled sadly. “I don’t know why you hate me, Missy Claire, but I don’t hate you. I’m not your slave anymore, but if you need any help getting settled, I’ll do what I can for you.”
“Are you going to get out of my house, Kitty, or should I call my husband and have him throw you out?”
“It’s gonna take me a few minutes to gather all our things together, but I’ll go. And my name ain’t Kitty, ma’am. It’s Anna.”
* * *
When Grady returned from his errand downtown, there was a wagon parked near the carriage house. He hurried up the driveway, wondering who it could be, and found himself face to face with Roger Fuller. His old massa gave a start of surprise, but the worried look quickly left Massa’s face.
“Oh, Grady! It’s you. I saw the uniform, and for a moment I … What are you doing here?”
Grady suddenly felt like the trespasser that he was. “My wife has been staying here with Minnie and Jim,” he said slowly, “taking care of the place for you. I was mustered out of the army last week. I just got here myself a few days ago.”
“I see.”
Grady could tell that Fuller was just as uncomfortable as he was. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. He gave his former master a quick appraisal and saw how much the war had aged him. His skin looked brittle and yellowed, like the old receipts Anna had used to draw her portraits. Fuller’s arm, which had been severely wounded the last time Grady had seen him, hung from his shoulder, gaunt and awkward, as if it hadn’t healed properly.
“Yes, my arm is still a bit troublesome,” Fuller said, following Grady’s gaze. “I have difficulty holding on to things with this hand. Makes it hard to drive a team of horses.”
“I see you got yourself some new ones,” Grady said. He walked over to survey the team, running his hand along the first one’s flank.
“Nothing like the horses I used to have, are they?” Fuller said a little sadly.
“You ever get them back again?” Grady asked, remembering Blaze.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Grady tried to act casual, but his unease was slowly turning into panic. Massa Roger had returned home to Beaufort, and now Grady would have to find someplace else for his family to live. He had no idea where that might be.
“You planning on living here in Beaufort for a while?” he asked.
Fuller sighed. “The government claims that I owe four years’ worth of taxes on this house. Since I can’t pay them, the place will have to be sold at auction.”
“But you’re a rich man, Massa Fuller.”
“Not anymore. I invested everything in Confederate bonds to support the war effort. They’re worthless now, of course. Claire and I came to pack up some of my family’s things, then we’re moving back to the plantation. If I sell some of my land and a few other valuables, I should be able to keep the plantation in the family for my sons.”
Grady had no idea why Fuller was confiding in him, but he found himself pitying his master. Grady had never had anything, and so he had nothing to lose. How much worse it would be to have had everything in the world—and to have lost it.
“If you need help loading your wagon, I can help you,” Grady said. The look Fuller gave him was so stripped of pride, so naked and vulnerable, that Grady was immediately sorry he had made the offer.
“Thank you, Grady. But I can’t pay you.”
Grady swallowed his own pride in return. “I have no place to live, Massa Fuller. If you let me and my family stay in the room above your stable, we’ll call it even.”
Fuller nodded, staring at the ground. Then Grady remembered Delia, and his pulse raced. “Massa Fuller? Do you know where I can find Delia? Last time I saw her she was at Great Oak with Missus Fuller. She’s always been like a mother to me, and I’d like to find her and take care of her if I can.”
“She was at Great Oak,” Fuller said, “but she asked to come home with me to live on my plantation again. She said she wanted to live out her days here.”
Joy and relief flooded through Grady. “I’ll be glad to drive your wagon for you when you’re ready to go back. Anna and I want Delia to live with us.”
Fuller looked away, staring into the distance. “Grady, I’m sorry. Delia passed away.”
Grady closed his eyes. He didn’t care if Fuller or anyone else saw the tears that rolled slowly down his cheeks.
* * *
Grady sat on the lumpy bed with his face in his hands, the cornstalks crunching beneath his weight. “Anna, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to ever have to live like this—”
“It ain’t your fault,” she said. “Every slave in South Carolina’s in the same mess we’re in. At least we have each other. Some folks probably never will find their husbands and wives and children.”
He lifted his head to look at her. She was so beautiful that he forgot to breathe sometimes when he gazed at her. And so strong. She’d become a strong, courageous woman while he’d been gone. He took her hands in his and pulled her down on the bed beside him. “I love you,” he said.
“I know. And it ain’t the end of the world if we have to live above the stable for a while.”
He felt the seed of panic begin to grow and send out shoots again. “We might only be able to stay here for a night or two. Massa Fuller has to sell the house. I been hoping we’d have more time to figure out what we’re gonna do, but—” “You’ve only been home two days,” she said, caressing his face. “And we’ve both been wanting to spend every minute in each other’s arms.”
Grady leaned forward to kiss her, but she shook her head, smiling playfully. “First we’re gonna make some plans. If you could have any job in the whole world, Grady, what would you like to do?”
“I been thinking about that, all the while I been away at war,” he said, “but I don’t know how I can ever make it happen: I’d like to have my own stable and some horses. I’d like to start a livery business.”
“Then let’s do it, Grady. We might have to work for other people at first, but if we save all our money, then maybe we’ll be able to buy that stable, someday.”
He looked into her dark eyes and believed that anything was possible. He leaned forward to kiss her, but she stopped him again.
“Not yet,” she said, smiling. “I been thinking, too, and remembering how much you were always wanting to go back home to Richmond.”
“Anna, I don’t have any money for that.”
“I know. But I do. I been saving this for a surprise.” She stood and rummaged through the little bundle of possessions that she’d carried over from Massa’s town house. “Hold out your hands,” she ordered.
Grady’s jaw dropped when she poured a small pile of silver dollars into his cupped hands. “What… ? Where did you get this?”
“Miss Ada at the mission helped me sell some drawings to a newspaper up north. I been saving this money for your boat fare. It probably ain’t enough for all of us, but I want you to go, Grady.”
“I can’t be taking your money. We’ll need this to live on.”
“It’s our money. We’re husband and wife. You been telling me to think like a free woman, and you been saying that free women get paid for the work they do—well, that’s my pay. And a free wife can help her husband go to Richmond, if she wants to.”
“But what will you do while I’m gone?”
“I been thinking about that while I been packing. Miss Ada and Miss Helen already offered me a place to stay at the mission. They want me to keep on teaching. We’ll be okay, Grady. Honest we will.”
He stood and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, unwilling to let her go. It would be hard to be apart again, but they’d weathered much longer separations before. “I know,” he said. “From now on we’ll all be okay.”
She pulled him down on the bed again and said, �
�Now, I want you to tell me about all the people you’ll see up in Richmond, starting with your mama. I’m gonna draw pictures of George for all of them, so they’ll know what he looks like.”
“Let’s see, there’s Mama … and Eli … and Esther …” he said, kissing her between each name. “And I have some unfinished business with Massa Fletcher.”
“What?” she said, pushing him away. “What kind of business?”
He hesitated, afraid to tell her. Her look of surprise changed to one of understanding—then horror.
“Oh, Grady, no. I thought you were all done with hating people. I thought you were wanting to see your mother and Eli—”
“I am. But I have to see Massa Fletcher, too. I been waiting all these years to face him.”
“But why? What difference will it make after all this time?” When he didn’t reply she began to cry. “You’re still wanting revenge, aren’t you? You’re gonna kill him! Don’t try and deny it, Grady. I can see all the hatred that’s still in your heart for that man, and it scares me. Please don’t do it, Grady. Please, just forget about him.”
“He deserves to die!” Grady heard the deadly chill in his own voice.
“And what about us?” she asked, swiping at her tears. “When they arrest you and hang you for murdering him, what’s gonna happen to George and me?”
“I didn’t get caught when I killed Coop.”
She closed her eyes. “Please don’t do it, Grady.”
“Do you want your money back?” he asked, holding it out to her. “Are you changing your mind about giving it to me?”
“No. I want you back—the free Grady who isn’t storing up a big load of bitterness in his heart anymore.”
Grady understood why she was upset, but he was no less determined. “I have to see him, Anna. I don’t think I’ll ever be right with myself until I do.”
She gazed at him for a long moment, love and sorrow shining in her dark eyes. She turned away from him again. “Then go,” she said softly.
“I’ll come back to you, Anna. I promise.”
* * *
Richmond, Virginia
Anxiety gripped Grady as he stood in the bow of the ship and gazed at the charred wreckage of Richmond. He barely recognized the city that had once been his home. All that remained of the bridges that had once spanned the James River were stone pilings. Block after block of buildings in Richmond’s downtown area had all been destroyed, reduced to skeletons of toppling bricks with vacant, empty window frames. Piles of rubble lay everywhere, from the river’s edge to the hill where the soot-covered capitol building still stood. And everywhere that Grady looked, he saw white women clothed in black and the now-familiar sight of ragged, homeless slaves. As they sifted through the debris, they wore the haunted, frightened expressions of castaways adrift on a rudderless ship.
Clearly, Richmond’s inhabitants had suffered greatly. The scars that the burned and broken city bore were proof enough. Grady could only imagine what his mother and other loved ones must have suffered. The thought filled him with dread.
He began the long, circuitous walk through the rubbleclogged streets with deep foreboding, the stench of burning still thick in the air, even after all these months. But his panic began to ease as he turned onto Broad Street and hurried up the hill. The area of Richmond where he had once lived looked unkempt but relatively undamaged. He passed St. John’s church and turned down the familiar street where Eli had always turned. Massa Fletcher’s house still stood on the corner at the end of the block.
Grady paused and drew a deep breath when he saw it. Then he quickened his pace, jogging around to the rear where his family lived. The wrought-iron gate stood open, and he hurried through it and into the stable.
And there was Eli.
Grady’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. Eli didn’t hear him or see him, and Grady stood watching for a long moment as Eli adjusted the bridle on one of the horses. His every gesture was so familiar, so beloved, that it seemed as though Grady had left only yesterday. But Eli’s movements were slower and stiffer now, and his hair and beard pure white. He had once seemed so tall and powerful, but now Grady was taller than Eli was.
When he could speak, Grady called out his name. “Eli …”
He turned, and recognition lit Eli’s eyes the moment he saw him. “Praise God,” he murmured as he walked toward him. “Praise Massa Jesus; He brought our Grady home.”
They hugged each other fiercely, clinging to one another for a long, long time. At last, Eli pulled back to face him. “You still hiding God’s Word in your heart?” he asked.
Grady remembered Joe’s warning not to let the devil tell him that he wasn’t forgiven. He smiled and tapped his chest. “It’s in there, Eli. God’s Word is still hiding in there, just like you taught me.”
“Praise God … thank you, Massa Jesus,” Eli said as he embraced him again.
Grady drew a deep breath, afraid to hope. “Is my mama here? Is she okay?”
“Tessie’s doing just fine,” Eli said with a broad grin. “She’s married to my son, Josiah, now, and they’re living in a little house of their own not too far from here. I’ll take you there. But we better go see Esther first, or she’ll have my hide for sure.”
Eli led the way down the path from the stable to the kitchen. The yard where Grady used to play with Caroline looked different, the boxwood hedges and flower gardens plowed up and replaced by a vegetable patch. The magnolia tree in the rear of the yard was still there, but it seemed not to have grown in the twelve years Grady had been gone—or was it because he had grown taller himself?
“Esther, look who’s here!” Eli called, pushing open the kitchen door. “Grady’s home!”
“Grady? Our Grady?” she cried. “Oh, bless the Good Lord in heaven!” Esther flew at him, hugging him so tightly that Grady thought his spine would snap. It felt wonderful. “Look at you!” she murmured. “All growed up into a man. A fine, handsome man, too!”
“Don’t break all his bones, Esther,” Eli warned. “Tessie’s gonna want a piece of him, too. I’m gonna take him right on over there to see her as soon as you’re letting go of him.”
Grady longed to see his mother, but he needed to go to the Big House first. As he steeled himself to confront Massa Fletcher, Grady felt every muscle and nerve ending grow tense and alert, the way he used to feel as he’d marched toward an enemy encampment, his rifle loaded and ready.
“Before we go, Eli … is … um … is Massa Fletcher around?”
Eli studied him for a long moment, as if trying to read his thoughts. He nodded slowly. “Yeah, he’s here. Been gone to the islands for a couple of months, but he’s back home now.”
“I need to see him.” Grady turned and walked quickly toward the house before he could lose his nerve or change his mind. He’d never been inside the Big House before, but he walked through the back door without knocking, as if he belonged there. He peered into several small, deserted rooms off the rear hallway, then followed the aroma of cigar smoke to the front foyer and to an office near the door.
George Fletcher sat behind his desk, reading a newspaper. He looked thinner and older, more gray-haired than Grady remembered. When Fletcher looked up and saw Grady in the doorway, he dropped the paper and rose to his feet.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” His voice was stern, commanding, but Grady didn’t flinch. He had learned how to look a man in the eye—even a white man.
“I’m Tessie’s boy, Grady… . Your son.”
Fletcher slowly sank down in his chair as if the strength had drained out of him. Grady continued to stare defiantly, face to face, refusing to lower his eyes. The embers of twelve years of simmering anger and hatred stirred to a roaring blaze at the sight of the man who had caused him so much suffering. He waited for Fletcher to speak first.
“So. You’ve come back.”
Grady nodded. “I’ve been in the Union Army for the past three years, the Thirty-third United Sta
tes Colored Troops. They promoted me to sergeant.” He walked into the room and stood in front of his father. He was just a man, a defeated man, in spite of his attempts to act stern. “I helped kill Rebels like you and bring an end to your precious Confederacy,” Grady said. “And I helped Abraham Lincoln set all your slaves free.”
Fletcher’s hand trembled as he laid his cigar in the ashtray. “What do you want?”
“Justice,” Grady said quietly. “And I want to know why you sold your own son to a slave trader.”
Fletcher looked away for the first time. Grady was surprised to see his jaw tremble with emotion. “I didn’t want to do it,” Fletcher said hoarsely. “My wife—Caroline’s mother—was very ill. She knew that you were … She knew who you were, and it upset her to see you every day. She wasn’t able to give me a son. I thought it might help her get well if I …” His voice trailed away. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Fletcher spoke the words so softly that Grady wasn’t really sure he’d heard them. He stared in disbelief. Fletcher finally met his gaze again and repeated it. “I’m sorry for selling you.”
Now it was Grady who had to look away. He had expected anger, resentment, even contempt, but not regret.
“Well, it’s too late for apologies,” Grady said, exhaling. “I been dreaming of this day, planning for it all these years. First I want to hear you beg for your life the same way my mama and I begged you the day you sold me. I want to make you suffer just a little of what I been suffering all this time—the beatings, the whippings, the weeks spent in filthy slave cells without a soul who cared if I lived or died. And after you beg and plead and feel some of the fear I been feeling day after day for all these years … then I plan to blow your brains out. Right here in your big fancy house. The house I was never good enough to step inside, even though half of the blood in my veins is the same as yours—white man’s blood.”
Fletcher closed his eyes. Grady expected to see fear in them when he opened them again, but instead he saw resignation. His father looked old and tired, the fight all gone out of him. “I know some of what you suffered,” Fletcher said quietly. “I spent time in a Union prison camp. But I won’t beg for my life.”
