Glimmers of Change

by Ginny Dye

  During one of the breaks, Carrie found Abby standing outside on the porch staring into the distance. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

  Abby struggled to find words for her feelings. “I fought so hard for blacks to be free, and I was happy to put the women’s rights movement on hold during the war, but I find I’m not willing to do that any longer. I want blacks to have the right to vote, but I believe it’s equally important that women get the vote.” She took a deep breath. “I’m trying to decide if that makes me selfish.”

  “There is not a selfish bone in your body,” Carrie replied.

  Abby shook her head. “I wish that were true, Carrie, but I’m just human. I’m doing my best to see this clearly, but it seems to be a muddy mess. The riots in Memphis make me question my own feelings around this issue. Do I have the right to insist on equal rights for women when blacks are in such dire straits?”

  Carrie cocked her head, thinking about everything she had heard that day. “Would blacks having the right to vote really stop the violence? Would it have stopped the riot in Memphis?” she asked. Before Abby could answer, she asked another one. “Are men really so threatened by women having the right to vote that they would block the black vote to make sure we didn’t get it?” Her tone was disbelieving.

  Abby sighed. “I’m afraid that may be true,” she said bluntly.

  “Why?” Carrie asked in astonishment.

  Abby sighed again. “I wish it were a simple explanation.” She gazed across the street, trying to find comfort in the bed of bright flowers swaying in the breeze, but her insides continued to churn. “To fully explain it would take all day, but at the core is the belief that a woman’s place is in the home and that politics is a dirty business that soils the pristine persona of the female,” she answered, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

  “Nonsense!” Carrie retorted. “I heard that same argument during the war when I was working at Chimborazo.” Scorn rippled in her voice. “Men are such idiots.”

  Abby smiled slightly. “I wish it was only men,” she said heavily. “There are women who believe the same thing.”

  Carrie stared at her. “Excuse me?”

  Abby knew Carrie needed to be aware of the truth. “There is a large number of women who hate what we are doing. They believe women are biologically destined to be child bearers and homemakers. They also believe we are going against the laws of nature if we enter politics and shake up the status quo.”

  Carrie groped for words, the silence stretching out. “You’re serious,” she finally murmured.

  Abby nodded. “I sincerely wish I wasn’t, but I am.”

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Carrie admitted. “What do they say to a woman like Mrs. Stanton who has accomplished all she has while raising seven children?”

  “They would say she should have been content with raising her children and that any time she spent away from home or diverted from her life as a wife and mother was time ill-spent.”

  “So there are women in this country who believe my desire to be a doctor is wrong?”

  Abby smiled gently. “Less than a week ago you were struggling with your decision to leave Robert,” she reminded her. “Carrie, don’t judge other women too harshly. I completely disagree with them, but I recognize fear is a powerful force. It’s also true that centuries of being programmed to be a certain way, to believe a certain way, is very difficult to cast aside. The very idea of doing so makes you afraid you’ll no longer know who you are if you’re not what you have always believed yourself to be. There are many women who are more than content to simply go on as they always have because they’re comfortable in knowing what is expected of them. They view our efforts as a threat to what they have always known.”

  “The right to vote? The right to make choices for our own lives?” Carrie asked. “How can that be a bad thing?”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a call from the church door. “The next speaker is starting,” Abby said quickly, ashamed to realize she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to answer Carrie’s question. At the same time, she understood their conversation had also made her own thoughts clear. She would fight for equal rights for blacks, but it would be a fight for equal rights for all blacks, both male and female.

  After many hours of speeches and conversation, Elizabeth Cady Stanton stepped to the podium and read from a notebook in front of her.

  As the same persons have been identified with the Anti-slavery and Woman's Rights Societies, and as by the Proclamation of Emancipation the colored man is now a freeman, and a citizen; and as bills are pending in Congress to secure him in the right of suffrage, the same right women were demanding, it is proposed to merge the societies into one, under the name of "The American Equal Rights Association,” that the same conventions, appeals, and petitions might include both classes of disfranchised citizens.

  Carrie felt a surge of excitement when she realized her presence at the convention gave her the right to have a say in the decision. She was disconcerted the proposition did not meet with unanimous approval but thrilled when it received the approval of a majority of those present. Her commitment to become a doctor was not diminished, but she also fully embraced the belief that women’s voices should be heard through the vote. The new association would fight for black rights, but it would also continue to fight for women’s rights.

  She smiled broadly when Janie’s eyes met hers and then reached over to clasp her hand before leaning in close enough to whisper, “I’m so very glad to be a woman!”

  It took her a moment to realize the importance of her own words. The very act of saying them made her realize there had been so many moments in her life when she wished she had been born a man, born with all the freedoms being a male brought with it. She had railed against being a woman because it always signified a person who was less than. She had fought to be independent and strong because she believed those were inherently male qualities. The truth sweeping through her made her feel light-headed, while at the same time filling her with a sense of power she had never experienced.

  She was a strong and independent woman. She was equal to any male on the planet. Her voice deserved to be heard as much as anyone’s voice did.

  Carrie sank back against her pew as acceptance of the truth followed the knowing. A smile played on her lips as she caught Abby’s questioning eyes, but she wasn’t ready to give voice to her experience yet. Suddenly she remembered Mrs. Stanton’s earlier words to her.

  You are going to be a fine doctor, Carrie Borden, but that will just be the first step for you. You are one of the rare individuals who have the courage to go against everything others may believe is right, if you don’t believe it is right for you. Women are going to look to you. They are going to depend on you. They are going to need you. You will perhaps pay a heavy price if you decide to be the woman they will need you to be, but I can tell you from personal experience that the rewards far outweigh the cost.

  Carrie took a deep breath, remembering Mrs. Stanton had also added that she would know the moment the words made sense. This was the moment. She closed her eyes, letting the wonder of it fill her, recognizing at the same time that she had been given a heavy responsibility.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rose pulled back on the reins, easing Caramel to a stop on the banks of the James River. She had deliberately picked a spot that would allow her to keep an eye on the road leading into the plantation, but she was sure she had some time to herself before the carriage arrived. She dismounted, tied Caramel to a low tree branch, and then walked over to a rock and settled down.

  Spring rains and continuing snowmelt from the Appalachian Mountains had churned the river into a chocolaty ribbon stretching as far as she could see, whitecaps dancing like frothy topping. It mirrored her emotions perfectly. She was thrilled Moses and Robert were coming home today, but she was a little less clear on how she felt about his bringing Felicia home to expand their family. The fact th
at she had conflicting feelings made her feel horribly selfish, but she also couldn’t deny that her hopes for her own future seemed to be slipping farther and farther away. She had come down to the river to face things before they arrived.

  Moses had told her in the letter containing the news about Felicia that he had come to terms with a lot of things in his life during the riot, and that they would talk about it when he got home. She hoped that meant he was more open to becoming a leader, but that still did nothing for her own burning desire to go to college. She loved teaching her students, but the desire to continue her studies and truly become an educator for her people seemed to be increasing, not diminishing. And now she had three children to raise.

  What was she going to do with her rampaging feelings? She didn’t want them to impact a little girl who had just lost both parents in a brutal murder, but would ten-year-old Felicia feel them churning beneath the surface?

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered, wishing with all her heart that her mama was still here to advise her. “Mama?” her heartfelt plea floated out over the river, hovering over the waves before the wind seemed to pick it up and carry it over the treetops on the far bank.

  Rose watched as the breeze picked up, swirling the frothy whitecaps closer to where she perched. They seemed to be calling her. Suddenly she wished she could jump into the river and ride the waves to a different future than the one that seemed to stretch out toward her. Just feeling it made her ashamed. She had a son and daughter that she loved fiercely. Why couldn’t it be enough? What was wrong with her? She groaned as her head sank into her hands.

  What be wrong with you, girl?

  Rose’s head shot up as a strong voice flowed into her mind. “Mama?” Rose knew it wasn’t possible, but she also couldn’t deny the sound of her mama’s voice ringing through her head.

  Of course it be me. I thought you done learned to not borrow trouble ‘fore it be here. I thought you done learned to not let fear choke you all up inside.

  Rose couldn’t hold back a smile as the scolding voice resonated through her. “I know it’s wrong,” she said quietly. She could see her mama shake her head, her eyes full of the compassion that had always been there for her little girl.

  Ain’t about being wrong, Rose girl. You got big dreams inside. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Ain’t nothing wrong about you wantin’ somethin’ so fierce bad that it makes your insides ache.

  “But I’m a mama now,” Rose cried. “You were always so happy just to be my mama. Why can’t that be enough for me?” She wasn’t going to analyze this strange conversation — she was simply going to be grateful.

  Rose girl, I didn’t have no choice. I spent my whole time being your mama as a slave.

  Rose sat quietly as the words flowed through her, remembering the quick shine of intelligence in her mama’s eyes. She thought about how quickly she had learned to read and the pride she had taken in being able to read the Bible. “You wanted more,” she said slowly. Quick understanding came with the realization.

  Ain’t nothin’ gave me more joy than being your mama, Rose, but I had dreams, too. I don’t reckon there be anyone in the world who don’t have dreams. It’s just that most folks ignore them or stomp down on dem until dey be dead. Me? Since I was a slave I just made up my mind to be happy with where I was planted.

  “Bloom where you’re planted,” Rose murmured. “You’ve told me that so many times. I keep trying to let that be enough, Mama. I love being a teacher here at the school, and I love being a mama to John and Hope. They are so wonderful. I feel so selfish because it just isn’t enough!”

  Of course they be wonderful! How could they not be with you and Moses as their mama and daddy? There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, Rose. You be doin’ some fine bloomin’. But you ain’t always gonna be here. There be more waitin’ for you. It only be natural that you be wantin’ to get there. You been wantin’ things before it be the time to have them eber since you were born.

  Rose sucked in her breath, certain she could hear Sarah’s chuckle rising above the wind. “Really?” she whispered. “There is more waiting for me?”

  Ain’t I teached you nothin’, girl? God sho nuff didn’t give you this burnin’ desire to just let it smolder out here on the plantation. You go ahead and love that Felicia child like you love your own. You ain’t got no idea just what a gift she is to you. You’ll figure it out soon enough. Your time is coming, Rose girl. Your time be coming…

  Rose stiffened. How could her mama know about Felicia? She hadn’t said anything out loud.

  Sarah’s knowing chuckle surrounded her for a long moment and then faded away, leaving only the breeze and the waves.

  Rose looked around wildly for several moments, half-expecting her mama to appear over the waves, but there was nothing but frothy waves continuing their swirling dance. She finally relaxed, accepting the gift she received as she realized there would always be mysteries she couldn’t possibly understand. Gratitude poured through her as she realized the battle that had been raging inside her had died away. The only thing that remained was burning impatience to have Moses and Felicia actually arrive.

  “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered. A quick glance toward the road confirmed what her heart was already telling her. A broad smile exploded on her face when she saw the carriage rounding a curve. Jumping up, she quickly untied Caramel, leaped into the saddle, and took off at a fast gallop that would have impressed even Carrie.

  Moses had been counting the minutes to the plantation since they had left Thomas’s house hours earlier. He had enjoyed Felicia’s wide-eyed wonder as they traveled through the beautiful countryside, but now that he was almost home, he could hardly wait to see his wife again. He jumped out of the carriage before Spencer pulled it to a complete stop.

  “Rose!” He pulled his beautiful wife into his arms and held her against him, reliving the moments in Memphis when he was afraid he would never see her again. When she began to push back, her laughter muffled against his massive chest, he pulled her close again, suddenly not willing to release her warmth. He sighed when she relaxed into him and squeezed more tightly with her arms. He knew she understood. The remnants of horror and fear that he had carried home from Memphis faded away as the realization she would always understand swept through him.

  When he finally released her, she looked up at him with eyes shining with tears and love. “Welcome home,” Rose whispered, reaching up to lay her hand against his cheek.

  Moses closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in her touch, and then opened them again. “I have someone for you to meet.”

  Rose turned immediately and moved to the side of the carriage. She saw a pair of eyes staring at her with fear and curiosity. “Hello, Felicia,” she said gently, reaching over the side of the carriage to take hold of one of her hands. She smiled at Robert who had elected to stay in the carriage with Felicia. Her heart warmed at the genuine love she saw on his face as he watched the little girl. “Welcome home, Robert.”

  “Thank you,” Robert answered, his eyes already scanning the pastures. “How is everything?”

  Rose continued to hold Felicia’s gaze while she told Robert what he wanted to know. “Clint took a few of the mares in from the pasture about an hour ago. He said they were acting like it was their time.”

  Robert sucked in his breath and jumped from the carriage. He turned back and laid a hand on Felicia’s shoulder. “You’re home now, honey.”

  Felicia looked away from Rose to stare at Robert for a long moment and then returned her gaze to Rose.

  Rose smiled, recognizing Felicia’s hunger for a woman. She could only imagine what it must have been like to watch both her mama and daddy be murdered. Felicia’s daddy had been gone through most of the last four years during the war, but her mama had always been there for her. Now she was gone. Rose controlled her shudder and gripped the little girl’s hands tighter. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said softly. She understood the question in Felicia�
�s eyes that she knew would remain unspoken. “This is your new home now. I’m so glad Moses brought you to us.”

  She watched while a tiny amount of the fear and pain etched on Felicia’s face faded away.

  “Really?” Felicia whispered, her eyes watching Rose with a wild desperation.

  “Really,” Rose replied firmly. She reached out her hand. “Let’s go inside and see your new room.”

  Only then did Felicia look up at the plantation house. “Go inside there?” she asked, obvious disbelief overriding her fear.

  Rose smiled. “This is where we live. Cromwell Plantation is your new home, too.”

  Felicia continued to stare at the white three-story house rising above her. “We ain’t gonna live in the slave quarters?” she asked.

  “I told you we weren’t,” Moses broke in, his voice amused. “Didn’t you believe me?”

  Felicia shrugged, relaxing a little as she looked up him. “I figured you were trying to make me feel better about coming this far,” she replied primly, a spark of humor glimmering in her wide eyes.

  Rose sucked in her breath as Moses laughed easily and swung Felicia from the carriage. She had seen the flash of quick intelligence in Felicia’s eyes as she parried with Moses. The little girl didn’t know what to think of her yet, but she had obviously already fallen in love with her husband. She watched as Felicia walked beside Moses up the stairs to the house, her heart already filling with love for the little girl with a long braid trailing down her back.