by Ginny Dye
“We’ll build it back, Miss Marietta,” Eddie assured her. “It may take us a while, but we’ll build it back.”
“And until then?” Marietta asked. “What will everyone do? Where am I supposed to teach my students?”
Jeremy had a sudden idea. “Come with me,” he said suddenly. He turned to Spencer. “Can you take us to the old hospital?”
Spencer nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Sho nuff can, Mr. Jeremy. Can’t do nothing here anyway. Thank God the buildings around here weren’t close enough to the church to catch fire. There are plenty of men to watch things through the night.”
Marietta stared up at him. “The old hospital? Jeremy, I think I should be here.”
Jeremy smiled, glad to have a solution to part of the problems created by the loss of the church. “I thought you wanted a place to teach your students?”
“I do, but…”
“Just come with me,” Jeremy insisted, tipping her face up so their eyes met. “I have your answer.”
“You go,” Eddie urged. “I know my kids gonna be badgerin’ me about school the minute I get home. Sure would be nice to have an answer.”
“You just tell them they have a school,” Jeremy promised. He helped Marietta into the carriage and then settled down next to her.
Marietta stared at him but remained quiet, reconciled to the fact Jeremy wasn’t going to say anything else. The glow remained in the sky, but the farther they pulled away from the church, the quieter the night became. Hundreds of people were crowded around the fire, but there were still curious faces peering out at them as they drove through the streets.
Spencer finally pulled the horses to a stop. “Here you go, Mr. Jeremy.”
Jeremy took a deep breath. He hadn’t been back here since his father’s death. He had stayed away because he feared the memories would be too painful. Now, two years later, the memories produced a warm pride.
“What is this?” Marietta asked.
“My father’s old church. I gave it to the congregation when he passed away, but there weren’t enough of them to keep it going. It’s been sitting empty since the end of the war. I haven’t known what to do with it.”
Marietta stepped out from the carriage, but darkness shrouded the building. “How big is it?”
“Big enough,” Jeremy promised. “The right side of the building was used as the church. The left side was converted into a hospital during the war. Carrie and Janie used to come down here and care for the people.”
“Carrie and Jamie were the doctors?” she gasped. “I didn’t know! I’d heard about the hospital, but I didn’t know where it was.”
“You’re looking at it,” Jeremy replied, a fierce pride sweeping through him. His father had seen needs and filled them. Now it was his turn. “It’s plenty big enough for your school, and the groups can meet here at night. The church portion isn’t large enough for the congregation, but I’ll let the pastor decide what he wants to do about that.” He paused. “The hospital portion has dirt floors. I’m not sure what condition it is in,” he said apologetically, suddenly having second thoughts about offering it. He was having a hard time seeing Marietta working in these conditions, but he understood her commitment.
“It ain’t bad,” Spencer assured him. “I drive by here sometimes. It ain’t real clean, but the ceiling ain’t leaking. I always check on it for your daddy. He sure gave a lot of himself here.”
“Yes, he did,” Jeremy said gruffly. “He would be pleased to know it was being used again.”
Marietta turned and grabbed him in a fierce hug. “Thank you!” she cried. “It will be perfect!”
“But…”
Marietta pressed a finger to Jeremy’s lips. “It will be perfect,” she said softly, her eyes shining up into his. “I’ll have the students clean everything. The parents will build some simple desks. It’s not important where the students learn — what is important is their understanding that the act of destruction that took their school can’t take away their opportunity for education. The church will be rebuilt. In the meantime, this will be perfect.”
Jeremy grinned. “I’m quite sure Abby already has a plan to replace the books and school supplies,” he said confidently. “Her supply line from the North hasn’t failed her yet. I know she has books coming for the plantation school next week. We’ll divide them up and then get more.”
“Thank you,” Marietta murmured. “I can’t wait to see it in the light. I’ll bring people tomorrow after the Emancipation Parade to begin work. I can’t think of a single thing better to do after celebrating freedom for the slaves. There is plenty I can do with the children, even without books and supplies.”
“I reckon ever’body gonna agree with you, Miss Marietta,” Spencer said solemnly. He looked around into the shadows and then looked over at Jeremy. “We been here long enough,” he drawled.
Jeremy heard the words he didn’t say. There was no way of knowing where the arsonists had gone or where they would strike next. He nodded quickly. “You’re right. I’ll drop you off at the church. You can walk the few blocks home from there. I’ll take Marietta back to her boarding house.”
Jeremy jumped down from the carriage and held out his hand for Marietta to step down. “You’re tired,” he said gently.
“It’s been a long day,” she agreed wearily. “The most important thing, though, is that no lives were lost and no one was hurt.”
“I’ll second that,” Jeremy responded. He had been so afraid Marietta had been caught in the fire. The moment Spencer had confirmed his fear that the blaze he had spotted was the Second African Baptist Church, his most pressing concern had been her safety. He cupped his hands around her face and gazed down into her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”
Marietta was always so strong and resilient, but this time her eyes reflected her fatigue and vulnerability. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me.”
With that single sentence, Jeremy suddenly understood how lonely she must sometimes feel. She lived alone in a boarding house, so far from the family and friends she grew up with. She was a passionate teacher and a strong woman, but Jeremy knew from watching Carrie and Rose that even the strongest of women needed a shoulder to lean on. “I’m here for you,” he promised, his eyes never leaving her face.
Marietta swayed toward him slightly, her eyes revealing her need.
Jeremy groaned and pulled her close, kissing her gently at first and then more firmly. Her soft lips responded eagerly. Long minutes passed before he finally released her and stepped back, his pulse pounding. “I’m not going to apologize.”
Marietta continued to stare into his eyes. “I don’t want you to. It would rather take away from the joy of our first kiss.”
“You’re not upset I kissed you?”
Marietta smiled. “Certainly not. I was wondering if you ever would.”
Jeremy pulled her close again and kissed her warmly. “Go inside,” he ordered. “It’s been a very long day for both of us, but I could change my mind and keep you outside all night. While I’m quite certain I would enjoy every minute, I’m also quite certain we would raise questions I’m not sure you’re ready to answer.”
Marietta grinned. “Ah…that infamous southern protocol. Don’t you find it boring?”
Jeremy grinned back, happiness surging through him. “Very. Yet I’m not sure I can quite entirely embrace Yankee liberalism.”
Marietta laughed. “Me either,” she admitted, “but I’ve often dreamed of what it would be like to be a loose woman. I think it would be rather entertaining.”
Jeremy chuckled. “I suspect you’re right, but I find my wishes for our relationship go far beyond entertainment.” His humor faded away as he held her back and gazed at her, devouring her clear skin and bright blue eyes. “I love you, you know.”
Marietta’s smile faded, but her eyes remained steady. “And I love you, Jeremy, but I don’t yet know the answer to your questio
n the first night we met.” Her voice faltered. “I’m sorry.”
Jeremy felt the sting but didn’t look away. “Take your time. It’s a big question.”
Marietta frowned. “It shouldn’t be,” she said fiercely. “It shouldn’t matter even one tiny bit what your heritage is.”
“But it matters quite a bit what life would be like for a child who carried the burden of being mulatto.” Jeremy saw no reason not to hit the issue head on.
“I don’t know if I have the right to let my love for you dictate the life of an innocent child,” Marietta said helplessly. “I realize the odds are that if we were to have children, they would be white, but I can’t be certain.”
“That’s true,” Jeremy agreed, wishing with all his heart he could be certain their child would be white.
“This is such a cruel world for black children,” Marietta said sadly.
“And for mulatto,” Jeremy added. “My situation is different because I don’t look black.”
“But your activities down in the black quarter may make people look deeper into your background,” Marietta said hesitantly, fear shining in her eyes.
“You think I shouldn’t help?” Jeremy asked carefully.
“No,” Marietta said firmly. “I just hate that it even has to be considered. If we were in the North…”
“Prejudice exists there, as well,” Jeremy reminded her.
“True,” she agreed quickly, “but there is also more tolerance.”
Jeremy regarded her quietly, thinking before he spoke. “So if we were to move north, we could be married?” He felt the hesitation more than he saw it. The reality of it was like a kick in the stomach. He stepped back, releasing her arms.
“It’s too soon for me to know the answer to that question,” Marietta said desperately. “Please, Jeremy! I need more time. Can we please move slowly?”
Jeremy pushed down his sick feeling and nodded. “Of course,” he said gently.
“Would it seriously not matter to you if we had a black child?”
“I’ve thought about it a great deal,” he admitted. “I see how difficult life is for Rose. For Moses. For all of them. It’s why I choose to help in every way I can.”
“And for a child of your own?” Marietta asked urgently, her heart in her eyes.
“I can’t know the future,” Jeremy said slowly. “I don’t know why I was born white and Rose was born black. I don’t know why my mother was raped. I can’t know what a child from us would look like.” His voice deepened. “I do know that I love you. I have asked myself whether I should walk away from you because of things I can’t possibly know. The answer I keep coming up with is ‘no.’ Now that I know you love me too, the answer is even stronger. The only thing I know for certain is that a child who comes from our love will be greatly loved.”
Marietta searched his eyes before her gaze fell away. “But will our love be enough?” she cried softly. “Will it be enough when society shuns our child? Will it be enough when our child loses opportunity because we chose to let our own love rule our hearts and decisions?”
Jeremy understood her agony all too well. “Like I may lose our love because I am mulatto?” he asked evenly.
Marietta looked away. When she looked back, tears were brimming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”
“I know.” Jeremy stepped forward and grasped her arms again. “I will not give you up so easily. You asked for time. I will give it to you.” He pulled her close again and kissed her warmly. “I love you, Marietta.”
He stepped back, climbed into the carriage, and drove away before she had a chance to respond.
Chapter Thirteen
Carrie and Rose were silent as they moved through the woods bursting with new life. Mid-April had blown in with warm winds and brilliant sunshine. Delicate bluestar flowers mingled with the bobbing heads of red columbine. Catalpa contributed a brilliant white that contrasted nicely with the bright yellow blooms of chinkapin. Ferns were completely unfurled as they burst forth from the forest floor. The leafy arms of maple and oak trees towered over the dogwood trees bursting with both pink and white blooms.
Carrie took a deep breath. “It is so very beautiful,” she said softly.
Rose eyed her. “You’re going to miss this.”
“Every day,” Carrie agreed. The path opened into a small clearing that held Old Sarah’s grave. She turned to Rose and gripped her hands. “But not as much as I’m going to miss you.”
Rose nodded, fighting the envy threatening to choke her. “I’ll miss you too,” she murmured.
Carrie pulled her down on a log. Silently, they watched butterflies and dragonflies flit around the clearing, the chatter of squirrels the only sound. She finally broke the quiet. “Are you going to tell me what is bothering you before I leave?”
Rose sighed. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well.”
Carrie waited quietly.
Here, with her mother’s presence so palpable, Rose could do nothing but tell the truth. “I’m so jealous I could scream,” she admitted. “I tell myself every day that caring for my family and teaching at the school should be enough for anyone…” Her voice trailed off.
“But it’s not,” Carrie said gently. “I’ve seen the restlessness growing.”
Rose sighed again. “Why can’t I just be content? Why can’t I focus on blooming where I’m planted?” She stared at her mama’s grave. “My mama used to tell me I could choose joy right where I am.”
“And she was right,” Carrie replied. “But you didn’t have a choice about being a slave. You really didn’t have a choice about staying here on the plantation when your mama was still alive. You had to bloom where you were planted because you couldn’t leave. Now you’re free. You have a choice.”
Rose shook her head. “Do I? I have a husband and two small children. I have a school that was just rebuilt, full of eager students who count on me.” She turned helpless eyes on Carrie. “Why can’t I let that be enough?”
“Because you’re bigger than all of it,” Carrie replied steadily.
Silence filled the clearing for several minutes. “You’ve felt all this,” Rose murmured.
Carrie nodded. “Yes. I told myself it should be enough to be here with Robert and all of you. I told myself it should be enough to meet the needs here in the clinic.” She reached down to pick a clover from the patch beneath her feet. She examined it as the sun turned it a brilliant emerald green before she continued. “It wasn’t enough,” she said bluntly. “I felt guilty because I felt that way, but Robert helped me see I was choosing guilt because I was actually afraid.”
Rose frowned. “You think I’m afraid to do something more?”
“No,” Carrie answered quickly. “I don’t think we’re in the same situation. I don’t have children to consider. You do.”
“But I am afraid,” Rose said slowly. “I’m afraid I will never get my chance.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Carrie vowed.
“How do you know?” Rose asked desperately. “How can you know? I want you to be right, but I can’t keep living off wishful thinking. I’m afraid hope will do nothing but make me more restless, and then more resentful if it doesn’t happen. Perhaps it is best if I just find acceptance in what is.”
“Like Moses is trying to find acceptance in just being a farmer?” Carrie asked quietly.
Rose whipped her head around to stare into her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Carrie regarded her steadily. “I saw what happened the night the school and clinic burned. I saw how Moses stepped up. More importantly, I saw how the people responded to him. I’ve also seen how they have treated him since then. Without being aware of it, or even trying to, Moses has become their leader.”
“I know,” Rose agreed as she shifted to stare at her mama’s grave. “He doesn’t want it.”
“I know. Moses is trying to ignore it all,” Carrie observed. “He doesn’t want to be a leader because he’s
comfortable being here on the plantation. After everything he’s been through, I don’t blame him.” She turned and gazed at Rose. “But you’re not doing that. You’ve dreamed of being so much more than just a teacher. You want to be a leader for your people in education. You can’t do that from the plantation. You can’t do that without more education. Of course you’re restless. The only way you could not be is if you choose to simply accept what is and decide to be comfortable.”
“I can’t,” Rose whispered brokenly. “I’ve tried. I can’t do it.”
“I know,” Carrie replied. She stood and walked over to Sarah’s grave, staring down at the rock and wooden cross that marked her final resting place. “You won’t be here forever, Rose. Moses may think he can ignore being a leader, but something is going to happen that will ignite the flame inside him. Your flame is already burning. All you can do right now is be the best teacher you can be and learn as much as possible.” Carrie smiled tenderly. “I remember your mama scolding me when she thought I wasn’t studying my medical books enough. I had lost hope of ever going to medical school. She told me I had to prepare every single day so I would be ready when the time came. Little did I know it would be five years after that conversation…”
“You’ve been studying every day,” Rose acknowledged as she walked over to join Carrie. She reached down and pulled a few weeds from the grave. “And now you’re going off to school.”
Silence filled the clearing again for a long moment.
“Will you send me books from Philadelphia?” Rose finally asked, knowing that with that simple statement she was refusing to simply accept her situation. She was going to prepare for the day when her opportunity arrived.
“Everything I can get my hands on,” Carrie promised immediately. Fighting to keep her emotions under control, she walked over and caressed the wisteria just beginning to open, the heady fragrance already strong but nothing like what it would be when it was in full bloom. Vines full of purple flowers would soon fill the woods with their perfume. “I’m going to miss the wisteria this year,” she said regretfully.
