Glimmers of Change

by Ginny Dye

“Which is why you fell in love with my father,” Carrie said quietly.

  “Yes. Your father is an extraordinary man, but I would never have married him if I were not completely confident he saw me as his equal.”

  “I’m not sure Robert sees me that way,” Carrie whispered, facing another fear as the breeze swirled around the porch, lifting the tendrils of her dark hair and caressing her hot cheeks.

  “What makes you feel that way?” Abby asked carefully.

  “We never talked about equality before we got married,” Carrie admitted. “I was so in love with him. There was a war going on. I had almost lost him. All I wanted to do was marry him before he left again.”

  “Has he given you any indication that you should not become a doctor? Or that he believes you are not equal?”

  “No,” Carrie said quickly, “but I’m not sure he would tell me even if he felt that way.”

  “You think he is hiding resentment and anger?” Abby pressed.

  Carrie considered the question carefully. “No,” she finally answered, feeling a surge of relief when she recognized the truth of her answer. “Robert genuinely wants me to become a doctor.” Horror followed quickly on the heels of her relief. “So it’s me who is not sure I should be a doctor?” she gasped.

  “It’s you who has been trained that it’s wrong for you to be anything more than a subservient woman available for her husband’s needs,” Abby responded. “It takes time to get rid of those beliefs.”

  “How much time?” Carrie demanded, suddenly impatient to be completely free from the shackles of her upbringing. “There is so much I want to do. I don’t want to feel this way.” She laughed as a surge of joy coursed through her. She could almost feel the chains dropping away.

  Abby laughed with her. “I’d say your facing it today is a huge step. Now that you know it is there, it won’t have the same power over you.” Then she sobered. “Neither will it go away quickly. Generations of women being forced into acceptable roles is not easy to break out of. It would be a mistake to think it is. You have to face it every time and then make the conscious choice to set your old beliefs behind you and live in a different way.”

  Carrie choked back her laugh when she saw the gravity shining in Abby’s eyes. She thought of her mother so carefully crafted by southern society. She was quite sure her grandmother had been the same and somehow just as certain that it flowed through generations of women on both sides of her family. She could almost see a long line of compliant, gentle-faced women staring at her across the whispers of time. The surprising thing was that she didn’t see condemnation or judgment — rather she saw eyes gazing at her with almost desperate hope. “Why am I different?” she asked quietly.

  Abby smiled now. “That is a good question. I have wondered the same thing about myself many times. On May tenth, you will meet hundreds of women who are different — who are willing to go against society.” She stared across the yard thoughtfully. “All I can tell you is that things are changing. A large number of women have had the courage to step forward and change things. Right now it just seems like there are glimmers of change, but it is enough for me to believe things will get better.” She opened her mouth to say more, but the rattle of wheels on the street distracted her.

  Carrie leaned over the railing to see who was coming. “It’s Michael!” she reported, alternately glad to see him and also afraid of the news. She straightened her shoulders with defiance, determined to fight the fear and guilt that had consumed her earlier. She turned to Abby and embraced her warmly. “Thank you. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Abby pulled her close. “And I don’t know what I would do without you,” she whispered. Then she released Carrie and pushed her toward the walkway. “Go talk to Michael.”

  Carrie was standing by the gate when Michael pulled up. He smiled brightly, but he couldn’t cover the worry in his eyes. “Bad news?” Carrie asked quietly, keeping her voice level.

  Michael climbed down quickly, his gaze encompassing Abby as well. “There is no specific news about Robert, Matthew, or Moses,” he informed them, “but the news coming from Memphis is serious. I want to emphasize that we know very little, however. The telegraphs are brief. I don’t know that anyone is completely certain what is happening.”

  “What do the telegraphs say?” Carrie pressed.

  Michael frowned. “The blacks have been rioting since yesterday afternoon. There have been deaths.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know more than that. We’re going to have to wait until more wires come through.”

  Carrie forced down her fear, knowing she had no facts to substantiate them. She forced herself to change the topic of conversation. “I understand there was a new case of cholera.”

  Michael frowned again. “Yes,” he said heavily. “It was in another part of town.”

  “That’s not good,” Abby responded. “It means it could be very difficult to contain.”

  Michael nodded. “Very difficult, indeed.”

  Rose tried to concentrate on her teaching, but she had been distracted all day. She wanted to blame it on the clear skies and warm air that blew in through the windows with the aromas of spring, but the fear pulsing in her heart told her it was something more. Moses and Robert had been gone for almost a week. She had encouraged her husband to go because she knew Moses needed to get off the plantation, but she had been uneasy ever since.

  Her fertile imagination had her jumping at almost every sound, and she was much too aware there were only women living on the plantation right now. Simon had offered for him and June to move back into the main house while the men were gone, but Rose had waved off their suggestion, insisting they would be fine. Why then were alarm bells ringing so loudly in her head?

  “Get a hold of yourself,” she muttered. “You’re borrowing trouble that isn’t here.” She tried to pull up memories of her mother’s calm voice, but nothing was working.

  The sound of hoofbeats made her walk closer to the window. She forced herself to move casually, not wanting to alarm her students. She was aware they were already watching her carefully, their young senses far too attuned to her anxiety. She made herself breathe evenly as she smiled at them. “Keep working on your reading,” she called brightly. “We’ll talk about it in a few minutes.”

  As they all turned back to their books, she peered out the window, stiffening when she saw a group of white men riding by slowly. She stood where they couldn’t see her, but she didn’t miss the anger on their faces, nor the hostile looks they directed toward the school and clinic. Polly had not been feeling well that day so the clinic was closed. Rose was alone with the children.

  She stood and watched until the men disappeared around a curve, not able to stop the shudder of fear that coursed through her body.

  “Is everything alright, Miss Rose?”

  Rose turned to find Jasmine by her side, her mature eyes searching the road. She didn’t admonish her for leaving her desk. Just as she did, Jasmine carried the memory of watching the school burn. “I don’t know,” she said honestly, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t alarm the other children.

  “I’m feeling something in the air,” Jasmine said quietly.

  “Me too,” Rose agreed, glad to have someone, even if it was a fourteen-year-old student, to share her thoughts. She stared at the children, wondering what she should do. She made her decision quickly. Her mama had always told her to listen to her gut. She had learned to tell the difference between unreasonable fear and a warning she should pay attention to. Her gut was telling her to send the children home early so they were all sure to be safe. She hated to rob them of even a minute of education because of fear, but common sense told her it was the wisest course of action.

  She turned quickly and clapped her hands. “Guess what, class?” If she was going to end school early, she was at least not going to send them home fearful. “It’s such a beautiful day that I’m going to let all of you go early!” />
  Everyone smiled, but many of the gazes were watchful and cautious. Rose knew the older ones could see through her subterfuge, but that was probably good. That meant they would help the younger ones get home quickly.

  Rose smiled brightly, aware of Jasmine’s watchful eyes. “The strawberries are ripe right now!” she called. “I bet if you go home through the woods, you’ll be able to pick some for your dinner tonight.” She was hoping the lure of the sweet, red fruit would keep them off the main road.

  “Yea! Strawberries!” several of the children called, their faces beaming with excitement.

  Rose helped them all with their books, grateful she didn’t have to send the youngest ones off with fear. She forced herself to breathe evenly, more sure than ever that something was wrong.

  “Can I do anything, Miss Rose?” Jasmine asked quietly, her eyes tense with anxiety.

  Rose hated that Jasmine had seen through her, but she was also relieved to have support. “Will you walk home through the woods with everyone?” she asked. She wasn’t willing to say anything more than that, but she already knew the teenager was aware trouble was in the air.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jasmine responded promptly. “I’ll get the other older kids to stay with them, too.”

  “I don’t want anyone else scared,” Rose protested.

  “We all know something is going on,” Jasmine said evenly, her eyes flickering with fear for the first time. “We be getting everyone home as quick as we can,” she promised.

  Rose felt a surge of warmth, not bothering to correct Jasmine’s last sentence. She was too grateful for her understanding and too anxious to get the children into the covering of the woods.

  “Miss Rose?” Jasmine hesitated before she followed the rest of the children into the school yard. “You’ll be careful, too?”

  “I will,” Rose promised. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “If it wasn’t something you would never have let me get away with that last sentence,” Jasmine replied knowingly.

  Rose chuckled with disbelief. “You were testing me?”

  Jasmine shrugged. “I know you don’t want us to worry, but one thing I’ve learned is that I can’t be prepared for trouble if I don’t know it might be coming.” She smiled slightly. “Protecting us won’t keep us safe, Miss Rose. There is not one student here, even the little ones, that doesn’t know something could happen every single day. We choose to come to school anyway. Moses did that for us the night they burned the school down. I wanted to run and hide that night and never come back to school. He taught me that I can’t give in to fear.” She paused. “If something happens tonight, we’ll still be back tomorrow.”

  Rose was speechless as she watched Jasmine run into the yard, calling the children with a bright smile. She watched as they all crossed the road and disappeared into the woods. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief. With the relief, however, came the realization she was completely alone. Within moments, she was mounted on Caramel, a gentle sorrel Clint had given her to ride to school every day. Forcing herself to maintain a steady trot, instead of the wild gallop her heart was screaming for, she rode home, bypassing the road by using a trail through the woods.

  Rose leaned back in her rocking chair, smiling with gratitude when Annie carried out a tray of lemonade and cookies. She nestled Hope closer in her arms, watching contentedly as John and Simon played in the yard.

  The horses were all out in the pasture peacefully munching grass as they waited for Clint and Amber to bring them in for the night. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead, patiently waiting for his evening meal to appear below. A doe with twin fawns appeared at the edge of the woods, her white tail swishing as her nose sniffed the air. The only sounds she could hear were the children laughing and the horses whinnying.

  Her earlier fears seemed completely unfounded, but she remained alert. Moses was ever present in her thoughts. She couldn’t shake the belief that he was in danger.

  The sound of carriage wheels sent her into instant panic. “John! Simon!” Rose called sharply. She grabbed Annie’s arm. “Please take the children inside,” she said urgently, passing Hope into her grandmother’s arms.

  “Something I should know?” Annie asked keenly. “You been acting jumpy all day long.”

  Rose shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted, “but I want to make sure the children are safe.” It gave her comfort to know all of them could disappear into the tunnel at any moment, but she was afraid of what could happen to the house and all the horses. “Please go!” she pleaded as the carriage noise grew closer.

  “You be careful,” Annie said. She smiled brightly at the boys clambering onto the porch. “I got me some hot cookies coming out of the oven. I sure could use some tasters.”

  John grinned. “We be the best tasters around,” he boasted.

  “We be?” Rose asked, not able to let it go.

  John grinned even wider, looking just like a tiny replica of his daddy. “We are the best tasters around,” he said correctly, his eyes twinkling with fun.

  Rose laughed, reached down to give him a fierce hug, and then opened the door so they could all disappear inside. Alone on the porch again, she forced herself to take deep, steady breaths. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. She turned and dashed into the house, emerging moments later with a rifle resting in her arms. Moses had insisted she learn how to shoot before he agreed to go to Memphis. He would be appalled that she had almost forgotten to get her weapon. She had to admit she felt better holding it.

  Moments later the carriage rounded the curve, but in the growing dusk it was too dark to see who was driving. She forced herself to wait, vaguely aware vigilantes would probably not arrive in a carriage. They would prefer the speed of horseback. Rose stood stiffly and ordered herself to remain alert. She was the only person standing between her children and trouble.

  “Rose!”

  As soon as the familiar voice sounded in the evening air, Rose shuddered out a relieved gasp. She relaxed and shoved the rifle onto a table. “Thomas!” she cried, dashing down into the drive. “Spencer! What are you two doing here?” Suddenly she tensed again. Thomas wouldn’t have driven all the way out from Richmond unless there was a very serious reason. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, fear once more pounding through her blood.

  Thomas stepped from the carriage and reached for her hands. “It’s good to see you.”

  Rose shook her head impatiently. “It’s good to see you, too, but I have been anxious about something all day. I kept expecting something to happen here, but that’s not it, is it? You have to tell me what is wrong.”

  Thomas nodded. “I received a telegraph today from Memphis.”

  Rose stared at him. “Memphis?” New terror roared through her mind. “Moses? Has something happened to him?” The roaring in her head was so loud she was afraid she wouldn’t hear Thomas’s reply. Had he survived the war only to die in Memphis?

  Thomas shook his head quickly. “I don’t know anything about Moses,” he assured her. But his face was grave. “The telegraph that came through simply said there had been a riot in Memphis.”

  Rose stared at him, knowing there was more. “Tell me all of it,” she commanded.

  Thomas heaved a sigh. “There have been black deaths, but we don’t know anything more.”

  Rose held his gaze, knowing he was holding something back. “You’re not telling me everything,” she said levelly. “I’m a grown woman, Thomas. Tell me everything.”

  Thomas glanced at Spencer. “I told you she would see right through me.”

  Rose waited.

  “The telegraph was from Peter,” Thomas continued. “When they got to Memphis, Moses insisted on staying at the fort with other soldiers.”

  “Not with Matthew and Robert?” Rose asked. “Why?” Her mind swirled with questions.

  Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. I do know that when the rioting broke out yesterday, Robert and Matthew went to try and find him.” He
hesitated. “As of this morning, Peter had not heard from any of them.”

  Rose forced herself to breathe. “How bad is it?” she asked quietly.

  “It’s bad,” Thomas admitted after a long pause. “A lot of blacks have been killed or injured. When Peter wrote, he said things were out of control.” He paused and glanced back down the road. “I wanted you to hear the news from me.”

  Rose considered this and then shook her head decisively. “That’s not why you’re here,” she said, her mind thinking through everything she had heard. “We would have no way of hearing this news if you had decided to stay in Richmond. You could have waited until you had solid information before you came out here.” Now it was her turn to glance down the road, falling silent long enough to determine if she could hear anything in the distance. When only silence filled the night, she turned back to her brother. “You are here because you’re afraid we’re in danger.”

  Spencer grinned. “I told you she weren’t gonna fall for it.” His grin faded as a serious look filled his face. “We knows you be out here by yourself, Rose.”

  “News of the Memphis riot will spread,” Thomas interjected.

  “And you’re afraid it will spark more violence everywhere,” Rose finished for him, her mind filled with the image of the men who had ridden by the school earlier.

  “Yes,” Thomas admitted. “We decided we wanted to even the odds a little more if you needed help.”

  A sudden movement at the edge of the woods caught Rose’s attention. She watched, open-mouthed, as Simon appeared, followed by all the plantation workers and their families.

  Thomas watched the group move closer. “I wasn’t willing to risk their safety, either. All black communities are considered easy targets. I believe everyone will be safer on the plantation. Vigilantes will think twice about coming onto Cromwell.”

  Simon held up his gun. “I reckon everyone has gotten word that we all used to be soldiers, as well.” His face was set and determined. “We won’t let anyone get hurt.”