by Ginny Dye
“Only if that starvin’ man don’t mind bein’ without a hand,” Annie said calmly, lifting a large butcher knife from the counter.
Matthew snatched his hand back with an easy laugh, his blue eyes dancing with fun. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He settled down next to the fire in the last remaining chair and held out his hands. “I’ll stay here where I can at least smell them.”
“And I be stayin’ where I can keep an eye on them,” Annie retorted.
Matthew shook his head dolefully. “Were you this hard on Moses when he was growing up?”
Annie snorted. “That boy grew so big, so fast he be hungry all de time. I had to watch every morsel of food to make sure his sisters done got anythin’ at all!”
“He’s still hungry all the time,” Rose said. “And Little John is only four, but he’s going to be just like him. I swear he grows every day.”
“Gonna be just like his daddy,” Annie agreed, happiness crinkling her eyes. “Y’all best plan on growing a lot of food, because it gonna take a lot to fill them two up.”
When the laughter faded away Abby turned to Matthew. “What did you mean when you said Carrie is right about the war not ending? Have I missed something?” she asked playfully, only her gray eyes showing her concern. “I do believe the war ended at Appomattox last year.”
Carrie, watching her carefully, saw something in Abby’s eyes that was far more than concern. It looked more like knowledge.
Matthew frowned, reaching gratefully for the cup of coffee Annie handed him. “Thank you,” he murmured, before he turned to Abby. “I wish that were true,” he said heavily. He stared into the flames for several long moments before he looked up. “I’m afraid that Appomattox ended just one phase of the conflict. From everything I can tell, the Confederates have returned home and initiated a new struggle to maintain the political and social dominance they enjoyed during the war.”
Carrie’s heart quickened. She and Matthew had started this discussion the day before. She wanted to refute his conclusions, but the evidence was piling up that he was right. She’d had no trouble waking up for the sunrise because her heavy thoughts had kept her awake most of the night. “So it was all for nothing?” she said hoarsely.
“Weren’t for nothing!” Annie snapped. “Ain’t I free? Ain’t Moses and Rose free? Ain’t little John gonna grow up free?”
“You’re right,” Carrie said instantly. “I’m so glad for that, but I worry what kind of world all of you are going to live in.”
Annie planted her fist on her hip and stared at them. “It be somethin’ I wonder ‘bout every single day, but you ain’t gonna come up with an answer to it this mornin’. And I don’t aim to let dark thoughts spoil our New Year’s breakfast.” She stared at all of them, her dark eyes taking in their rumpled appearances. “Mr. Matthew look pretty good, but you three women look like you crawled out of bed and forgot to do anything. I ain’t gonna let such sorry lookin’ women sit down at the breakfast I be workin’ so hard on. Polly will be here in a minute to help me finish up. You three go upstairs and do somethin’ to yourselves. While you be there, you gots to wash out any dark thoughts before you come back down.” She took a deep breath. “Now, you three think you can do that?”
Abby laughed, stood, and walked over to plant a warm kiss on Annie’s startled face. “You’re right as usual, Annie.” She beckoned to Carrie and Rose. “We have orders to follow.”
Carrie followed willingly, wondering about the look of relief in Abby’s eyes when Annie ordered them to leave.
Carrie felt like a new woman when she settled down at the breakfast table. Her unruly black hair had been tamed. She didn’t have much of a wardrobe left after the war, but she knew her green gown matched her eyes. All it took was one look into Robert’s blue eyes to know she looked good. It had also taken only one look into his eyes to make her forget the country’s troubles. She could hardly believe the vibrant, handsome man standing in front of her was the same emaciated, disease-wracked man the war sent home to her eight months earlier.
Her gratitude intensified when she thought of how many people all over the South had lost their homes and everything they owned during the war. The wonder that Cromwell Plantation survived filled her every day. She sat quietly as the seats around the table filled with her favorite people in the world — Robert, her father, Abby, Rose, Moses, little John and baby Hope, Jeremy, Matthew, June and Simon, and little Simon.
A sudden blast of cold air swirled through the room before Gabe, Amber, and Clint entered the house, completing her list of favorite people.
Brilliant sunshine illuminated the dining room and turned the crystal chandelier into dancing droplets spiraling over their heads. Christmas greenery still adorned the windows and fireplace mantle, releasing a fragrance that competed with the smells from the kitchen. A blazing fire shot warmth through every corner of the room. The Christmas tree would come down tomorrow, but for one last day it occupied the center of the living room, its splendor standing guard over everything.
Carrie smiled when Robert reached down to take her hand. “It’s a miracle we’re all together,” she said softly. “This time last year you were freezing out in the Petersburg trenches.” Her stomach clenched as she remembered the box of amputated hands and feet she collected after many of the men were brought into Chimborazo Hospital. She had used the horror to gather shoes, socks, and gloves from the impoverished Richmond residents, but she knew the suffering had been far greater than their offering.
Robert’s face darkened for a moment with the memories, but his eyes cleared quickly.
Carrie squeezed his hand more tightly. The nightmares still came, but they were fewer and further between. Most importantly, Robert could talk about them. That, more than anything, seemed to release their power over him. She doubted they would ever go away completely, and she knew the horrible images that filled his mind would fade but never totally disappear. She carried so many of the images herself from her years in the hospital, intensified now by the memories Robert shared with her of his battlefield experiences. The war had shaped all their lives. Nothing would ever change that reality, but she also believed time would heal.
She gazed around the table again, once more overcome with gratitude. Baby Hope, snuggled in Moses’s huge arms, filled her with warm faith for the future. She pushed aside her fearful feelings, fighting to focus on all the things she had to be grateful for.
Thomas Cromwell spoke the words in her heart. “It’s nothing short of miraculous that we’re all here together. So many families will never again have what we are sharing.”
A long silence filled the room as they thought of the hundreds of thousands of men, both North and South, who were killed during the long war. As they thought of the millions of family members who lost loved ones. As they thought of the scores of men who would live the rest of their lives as amputees, or battling illness because their bodies were too weak to fight off infection.
“We have so much to be thankful for,” Thomas finally continued as his gaze swept the room, his eyes taking in all his family members, both black and white. He took a deep breath. “The beginning of a new year always brings hope. Maybe this year we as people might make decisions that will make our country, and our world, a better place. This time last year we were all separated, some of us fighting on different sides of the conflict that ripped our country apart.” His eyes rested briefly on Robert, Moses, and Simon. “We have a new chance to get things right. Perhaps the fact that we are all sitting together to celebrate the beginning of 1866 is the biggest reason of all to have hope.”
Carrie smiled suddenly, her father’s words piercing her heart with their simple truth. Her father was right. Annie was right. Every slave was free. There was a new chance to create a country of equality and compassion. Change would be difficult, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.
Abby reached for Thomas’s hand. “I joined the abolition movement in 1832. The movement itself started
in the 1820s, but it really gained force in the ‘30s. I was only eighteen years old but completely convinced slavery was wrong. In my naiveté, I believed we would have the slaves freed within a few years. It seemed so simple to me, because it was clearly the right thing.” She smiled ruefully. “I never could have guessed it would take thirty-three years and a brutal war to accomplish freedom for the slaves. So many people, both black and white, have paid a huge price for that freedom, but we’ve only begun.”
Carrie stiffened, knowing she was hearing truth, but wanting to block out Abby’s words.
“1866 is going to be an exciting year, but I don’t believe it’s going to be easy,” Abby continued. “A whole way of life has been changed, and is being challenged. Slavery is dead, but that doesn’t mean the beliefs that established it aren’t alive and well. It will be up to those of us around the table to work to change those beliefs.” She took a deep breath and then smiled warmly. “Only by changing beliefs will actions be different. The great news is that it can be done. It won’t be quick, and it won’t be easy, but we will achieve equal rights for everyone if we simply refuse to give up until it is so.”
Another long silence filled the room as her words sunk in, giving both purpose and hope, along with a clearly heard warning.
It was Moses’s deep voice that finally broke the silence. “Here’s to 1866,” he said firmly.
“Here’s to 1866!” reverberated around the room as everyone echoed back his words.
“I say it be time to eat,” Annie announced from the doorway. She waved her hand at Abby and Carrie as they started to rise. “Me and Polly don’t need no help bringing in the food.” Then she grinned slyly. “That don’t mean we won’t take help cleaning up all the mess, though.”
Laughter rang around the table as platters of food were carried in. The table was soon groaning under the weight of Virginia ham, cornbread, scrambled eggs, baked apples, cranberry sauce, steaming biscuits, and deep bowls of blackberry and strawberry jam.
Everyone waited for Annie and Polly to slip into their seats before they began to eat.
Robert finally leaned back with a groan. “Now that was a meal to start a new year!” he announced. “It’s a good thing I decided to take a day off from the stables. I’m certain I couldn’t move if I had to.”
Clint nodded his head toward the window. “The horses agree with you. They seem to be enjoying their day off.”
Everyone began laughing when they peered out the bay window overlooking the pasture. The horses, their fur thick against the cold, seemed to be playing a game of chase through the stiff brown grass. Tails held high, their faces tilted toward the sun while steam blew out of their nostrils, twenty horses charged around the field.
“Granite is having a ball,” Carrie said laughingly, holding back the choked feeling that rose in her throat as she thought of leaving her towering gray Thoroughbred again in the spring. Once, all she had wanted was freedom from the plantation and a chance to make her way in the world. After four years of war and separation from all she loved, it hurt her to think of leaving it again.
“Your thoughts, Carrie?” her father asked.
Carrie gazed at him, aware of what he was really asking. Another New Year tradition was to share your dreams for the upcoming year. Some people called them resolutions. Her father had taught her to shy away from that word because he believed it set people up for failure when they inevitably couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accomplish them. All her life, the dreams her father encouraged her to have had driven her forward into action. In different company she may have blithely shared her dreams and then passed the baton. As she looked around the table, she realized that more than anything she wanted to speak honestly.
“I’m wishing becoming a doctor didn’t mean I have to leave the plantation,” she said bluntly. “It hurts my heart to think of leaving all of you.” She paused and swept her gaze around the room. “I’ve actually thought about not going to medical school, though Robert has done nothing but encourage and support me.” She stopped again, wondering if anyone would respond. She quickly realized they would remain silent until she had finished, giving her time to communicate her thoughts. That knowledge, perhaps more than anything, made the idea of leaving even harder. How could she leave this group of people who loved and accepted her so completely?
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and continued. “Yesterday, I had an emergency patient at the clinic.” Carrie smiled slightly as she called the small room tacked onto the schoolhouse her clinic, but she also knew that without it medical care would be unavailable for everyone in the area. It was humble but crucial. “He lost his arm two years ago during the war. Suddenly, for no reason I can tell, it’s hurting him terribly and has become red and inflamed. He’s in agony.” She took a deep breath. “I was able to give him something for the pain, and we’re working to battle the infection, but I realized I still have so much to learn before I can truly help people the way I want to. The only way to get that knowledge is to go to medical school and learn from people who know more than I do.”
Carrie held back the tears that threatened. She breathed a sigh of gratitude when Robert took her hand and squeezed it firmly, giving her courage to continue. “Abby and Rose have taught me so much about courage. People think I’m so brave, but I’ve always had the support of my family for everything, even during the war. Abby fought so many challenges on her own for so long.” Her face lit with a quick smile as she looked at Abby and her father. “I’m so glad both of you have each other now.”
Her eyes swept to Rose. “After escaping slavery, you left Abby’s home in Philadelphia to move down to teach school in the contraband camp. It would have been so easy to keep going to the Quaker School and live in the comfort of a wonderful house. Instead you moved into a shack so you could teach and make a difference.”
She couldn’t hold back the tears as she finished. “It’s my turn now. I’ve got to leave the things I hold precious so I can make a difference. I have so very much to learn. I know there are people, even in Philadelphia, who will think it horrible that I have left my husband to go to school.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she turned to look at Robert. “It still amazes me that you’ll let me go.”
“I think we determined several years ago that letting you has nothing to do with it,” Robert responded blandly, his eyes dancing with fun. “Having said that, I’m so proud of you I could almost burst. My wife is going to be a doctor.”
Laughter rolled around the table as everyone nodded in agreement.
The burden completely lifted from Carrie’s heart as these people she loved so much looked at her with love and pride. They had survived four years of war and reunited stronger than ever. Life would call all of them away at some point, but there would always be times like these when they came back together, giving each other the strength to do what they needed to do.
“We’re all so lucky,” she said softly. “So very, very lucky.”
“Amen to that,” Abby said firmly.
“Robert?” Thomas asked.
Robert leaned back in his chair, his muscular arms crossed across his chest, his brown face attesting to all the hours spent outdoors in the stables. “Now that the war is over, horses are going to be needed more than ever. Especially in the South. I intend to make the horses from Cromwell Plantation the best in the region. We’ve made a good start.” His eyes rested with pride on Clint, his young protégé. “We’ve got a long way to go, but we’ll get there.” He nodded his head toward Moses. “Your turn.”
Moses grinned and polished off another biscuit before he began to speak. “Last year’s tobacco crop was a huge accomplishment since we had to plant so late because of the war. This year’s crop is going to be even better. I’ve talked to the men. We’re going to plant every acre of Cromwell that can be planted. The war was a huge financial hit, Thomas, but the value of tobacco is even higher now. By the time spring arrives, we’ll be at full speed.”
C
arrie smiled at the look of pride on her father’s face, marveling again that he had come so far. Before the war, he had simply not been able to see blacks as anything but the inferior race white men were supposed to control. That he had given half of Cromwell to Moses, accepting him as his brother-in-law, was a huge testimony to the ability of people to change.
It was Rose’s turn. “The school is growing. This cold may be hard to battle with the woodstove, but it has also made it possible for more of the children to come to school. They don’t seem to mind staying bundled up through the day. Almost every student can read now,” she said proudly.
“Tell them about Rufus and Mandy,” Moses urged.
Rose laughed. “I’ve been trying to get the parents to come to school, but so many of them are just too tired after a long day of working, or,” her eyes darkened with quick anger, “they can’t get passes off the plantations they are working on.”
Carrie grimaced, knowing that tension was growing between the planters and the freed slaves. The planters were trying their best to operate things the way they had during slavery. The slaves were trying their best to live in the freedom they had fought so hard for. A portion of her fears came from the understanding that things would have to come to a head at some point.
Rose shook off her anger. “Rufus and Mandy are both ten years old. They came into school right before Christmas and told me they had taught their parents how to read.” She grinned with delight. “I sent them home with some of the books that were shipped down after the fire so they can all read together at night. They’ve inspired the other children to do the same thing.”
Everyone clapped with delight before Rose turned to Matthew. “Your turn.”
Matthew shook off his somber look and smiled brightly.
Carrie watched him closely, knowing Matthew was trying to hide far more than he was going to be willing to say. She was so grateful for her strong friendship with the journalist from West Virginia. He had survived horrors during the war but had not lost his passion for using the written word to communicate truth and effect change.
