Lisbeth’s pulse quickened. She and Emily exchanged a glance as she opened the door; then Lisbeth grabbed Sadie’s hand and walked over the threshold.
Mother sat on the familiar blue upholstered couch. Jack and a young woman with dark-blond hair sat nearby.
Mother had aged enormously in the last eight years. The stress of the war showed in her gray hair and gaunt face. She stared at Lisbeth and the children, unmoving, her face unreadable. Lisbeth felt Sadie’s little hand tighten in hers. She gave it a small squeeze and put an arm around Sammy’s shoulder.
Jack’s face was stony. Gray shot through his brown hair, and his blue eyes had sunk into his leathery skin. Her apprehension that he neither had forgiven her nor now welcomed their visit grew.
Julianne—wearing an unreadable expression—appeared just as Lisbeth had imagined, with a lovely sweetheart-shaped face and smooth skin. Julianne’s dress was shiny green taffeta with lace trim. Her waist was tiny, due to a tightly cinched corset. Lisbeth flushed with embarrassment as she realized how dowdy she must look in her blue cotton gingham and single petticoat. Only rare formal occasions caused her to bear the pain of a tight corset. She hadn’t even considered it for this day.
Lisbeth gazed around the room, taking in the rug, furniture, and pictures. It was disconcerting to see her childhood belongings in this unfamiliar room. A flood of memories cascaded through her brain: counting the flowers on that rug, playing clapping games on that davenport, Father arguing with the paper in that chair.
“Elizabeth, you made it,” Mother said without rising. “I hope your journey wasn’t too tiresome.”
Being called Elizabeth caused her to feel like an insecure child again. Only her parents, her brother, and Emily had ever called her by that name, and no one had used it in the years since she left Fair Oaks. In her mind, she’d been Lisbeth for as long as she could remember. Sadie’s head whipped around; her daughter was probably amused and confused to hear her called by a new name.
“It was fine. Thank you, Mother,” Lisbeth said.
Even with the difficulties between them, she’d expected to be welcomed with some sort of embrace. Mother was breaking protocol, leaving Lisbeth feeling awkward and uncertain about what to do or say.
“You are staying, are you not?” Mother asked, her voice short.
“Of course . . . I just,” Lisbeth stuttered. She sank down on the davenport across from her mother, Sammy and Sadie close on each side.
“Mother, this is Sadie. And you remember Sammy,” she said.
Mother looked at them, her eyebrows arched in anticipation. When they didn’t understand her unspoken hint, she sharply asked, “You are not going to greet your grandmother with a kiss?”
Lisbeth’s heart dropped. She’d had no idea what her mother wanted from her or her children. She patted Sadie and Sammy on the back, silently encouraging them to do as their grandmother asked.
“That’s better,” Mother said after they had each taken a turn kissing the cheek she offered. “Now kiss your aunt and greet your uncle.”
Lisbeth watched her children slowly walk over to Julianne, looking somewhat wary. The petite blond woman accepted their kisses with a smile. In a strong North Carolina accent she said, “Johnny will be here soon. He is looking forward to meeting his only cousins.”
Lisbeth felt the sting in her sister-in-law’s words, and her eyes traveled to the black mourning locket around Julianne’s neck. The fashion rose during the war as a means to proclaim one’s loss to the world. There were no cousins on Julianne’s side because her brothers were killed before they had children.
Jack reached out a hand toward Sammy and said, “I am glad to meet you, young man.”
Sadie put her hand out to shake Jack’s as well. Her uncle took it, but then turned her hand sideways, leaned over, and kissed it.
“In Virginia,” Jack explained in a deep voice, “a gentleman does not shake the hand of a lady.”
Sadie smiled at her uncle, looking very proud, and then looked over at her mother to make sure she was watching. It was surprisingly sweet for Lisbeth to watch Sadie with her long-estranged brother. Apparently Jack’s anger toward Lisbeth might not be directed at her children. Lisbeth nodded in encouragement to Sadie.
“How is Father?” Lisbeth asked.
Mother cleared her throat and blinked a few times. “He is fading, as I mentioned in my letter. The doctor has given him drops to keep him comfortable, so we are deeply grateful that he is no longer in pain. He sleeps most of the day.”
Lisbeth nodded, but before she could ask more, the door opened. In walked a child with bright-blue eyes and golden-brown hair who was the spitting image of Jack when he’d been a boy. A new layer of sediment settled onto Lisbeth’s already-complex emotional landscape as she thought of her brother from so long ago.
She’d felt a disconcerting mixture of fear and pity toward Jack for most of her childhood. When he was a very young child, he’d seemed confused and sad, and was too often a target of their grandmother’s anger for simply having the energy of a child. Lisbeth had felt compassion for him but had been helpless to shield him from their grandmother’s wrath. In time Jack toughened up, becoming a shrewd and cruel bully himself. Lisbeth had steered clear of him as a rule, making a point to never be alone with her brother. They had been virtual strangers living in the same home until she left.
Neither Lisbeth nor Jack had made an effort in the intervening years. Lisbeth learned of his life from Mother’s regular correspondence and Julianne’s periodic notes. She’d written him the expected congratulations on his marriage and the birth of his son. She felt none of the sisterly affection for Jack that others seemed to have for their siblings. When she was honest with herself she realized she was as much to blame as Jack for the ongoing distance between them. She hadn’t considered that her decision to leave the plantation would affect him so dramatically, but it had—yet she’d never spoken of it with him.
The boy walked straight up to Sammy and said, “I’m Johnny. You’re my cousin!”
“I’m your cousin too,” Sadie declared.
The adults chuckled. Amused at how forthright children could be, Lisbeth was grateful to stop thinking about her estranged relationship with Jack. Johnny sucked in a cheek and rolled his eyes at Sadie’s introduction. Suddenly Jack’s hand shot out, and he grabbed the skin on the boy’s small arm between his thick fingers and pinched hard.
“Ow!” Johnny’s body jerked, and he cried out.
“Be a gentleman, and greet your cousin Sadie like the young lady that she is,” he scolded his son.
Lisbeth’s mouth went dry, and her heart wrenched for Johnny. She and Matthew did not pinch or hit their children to teach them lessons. Jack’s behavior was an overreaction and unnecessarily cruel. It would do nothing to increase Johnny’s affection for Sadie; in fact it might produce the opposite effect.
The moment of affection she’d felt for Jack vanished. She felt as helpless and confused watching him lash out at his son as she had when their grandmother had slapped Jack. Sadie and Sammy looked at her, pleading in their eyes. Lisbeth’s stomach sank. Her children were getting a vivid lesson about the household she’d grown up in.
Johnny blinked back tears and said, “How do you do? It’s nice to meet you, Cousin Sadie.” Then he took a step away from his father and turned back to Sammy. “Wanna play with my top?” he asked.
Sammy looked at Lisbeth for permission. The tense moment had passed, though Lisbeth’s stomach still churned. She nodded, and the two boys started to leave. Sadie returned to her side and cuddled close to Lisbeth.
“Do you want to go with them?” Lisbeth asked the girl quietly.
Sadie shook her head. Lisbeth patted her daughter’s leg.
“While the boys play, I can show you to your room and acquaint you with the routines of the house,” Julianne said with a smile. “Perhaps there will be time for me to braid your hair before dinner, Sadie. I do so enjoy arranging hair and seldom get
the chance, since I have no daughter.”
Sadie nodded vigorously. “Of course you may braid my hair, Aunt Julianne.”
Lisbeth smiled at her sister-in-law. It seemed there would be moments of sweetness interspersed in this tense visit. Perhaps Sadie would help her family thaw the chill that was between them.
Julianne brought them first to Father’s room. Lisbeth paused in the doorway, breathing deeply to calm herself in preparation for what she might see, before slowly rounding the doorjamb.
Father looked peaceful in his sleep, though he was utterly changed. His thin face was hardly more than a layer of skin over his skull bones, his bright-white hair like a halo of dandelion seeds around his head.
In the many years since she had visited, he had written short greetings at the bottom of Mother’s letters, but that was the extent of their contact. They had never been close, so it was not surprising that he did not make an effort once she had moved to Ohio.
He had always been more interested in the newspaper and the Bible than his children, but tenderness toward him welled up in her. This was her very own father.
Lisbeth walked over to the bedside and took his hand. It was bony and warm, with veins popping out from under the thin skin. The quilt that covered his diminished body was the one he had slept under when she was a child. She rarely went into his room back then, but still she recognized it. She ran her fingers across a dark-blue triangle and felt the history contained in the cotton fabric, and she was struck by the poignancy of this situation. She’d returned to tend to her parents, who were virtual strangers, but she felt a deep obligation toward them, as well as a desire to finally earn their affection.
Lisbeth gestured for Sadie to join her at the bedside. Her daughter approached slowly, looking serious, but not too frightened.
“This is your grandfather, Sadie,” Lisbeth said.
“Is he really dying?” the girl whispered.
Lisbeth’s throat swelled, and she nodded. “Yes. We’re here to give him comfort in his final days.”
“Yes’m, I will.” Sadie leaned into her for support, and Lisbeth wrapped an arm around her daughter.
“I will be spending most of my days in here with him. You can help Cook in the kitchen.”
“We do not have a cook,” Julianne corrected. “Emily prepares our meals, as well as doing the cleaning.”
“This whole house? By herself?” Lisbeth asked, instantly regretting that she sounded judgmental.
“Yes. This whole house. By herself,” Julianne snipped back. “Times are difficult for all of us.”
“Of course,” Lisbeth said. “I’m sorry.”
Father stirred in the bed and opened his eyes, looking at Sadie. They widened, seemingly in wonder. Still lying down he said in a raspy voice, “Elizabeth? Is that you?”
Lisbeth’s throat was too tight to speak. She cleared it and swallowed hard.
“Father, this is my daughter, Sadie,” Lisbeth said.
He looked at Sadie, then at Lisbeth. His eyes filled with water. “You’ve come to see your father in his last days?”
He reached out a shaky hand and patted Lisbeth on the arm. “I am so relieved you are here. Thank you for coming.” A small smile passed over his face. He closed his eyes, and in moments she could hear his heavy breathing again. Tears welled up in Lisbeth’s eyes—her father was glad for her presence.
Julianne was staring intently at Lisbeth. “He hasn’t spoken that many words in weeks,” she said, rancor in her voice.
Lisbeth was confused by her hostility until Julianne spoke again.
“It must give you peace of mind that you will be there to comfort your father at the end. Many of us are not so fortunate.”
Lisbeth reached a hand out to pat Julianne’s arm, intending to provide a modicum of support to her sister-in-law. Of course Julianne felt pain knowing that her brothers and father had died without the solace of home and family in their last moments.
Lisbeth said, “We are blessed to be able to be here. And I’m grateful to you for allowing us into your home.”
Julianne pulled in her lips and exhaled a sharp snort. “It’s kind of you to imagine this is my home, but your mother does not ever let me forget that I am a guest here.”
Lisbeth was surprised at her sister-in-law’s plain language and at the sentiment. Mother described them as a unified and happy family living under one roof. Apparently she’d been misrepresenting the situation in this home.
Julianne led them to the small bedroom they would be sharing for their stay. The marble-topped washbasin was the familiar one from Lisbeth’s childhood room. She ran her fingers over the cool, smooth stone.
“After you wash up and change your clothes, I can fashion your hair,” Julianne explained to Sadie. “The children will join the adults for supper, since your arrival is a special occasion.”
“Where do we usually eat?” Sadie wondered, looking confused.
Julianne replied, “With Emily in the kitchen—except for Sunday supper.”
Sadie looked at Lisbeth and shrugged.
Lisbeth replied, “That’s different than how we take our meals at home, but you can adjust, can’t you, Sadie?”
The little girl nodded, looking earnest and eager to please.
Julianne directed her gaze at Lisbeth. “You would be wise to prepare your children for your mother’s standards.”
Then she turned and left them alone. Lisbeth exhaled in relief for the moment, but she knew that the next few days of getting her children accustomed to fitting into this household would be exhausting. She and Matthew practiced a modern form of child rearing, eating their meals together and allowing their children to speak up with questions or thoughts. Sadie’s and Sammy’s habits would need to change if they were going to fit in here.
With Father too weak to sit up at the table for meals, Jack presided at the head of the well-worn cherrywood table. Mother sat at the foot. Lisbeth, flanked by her children, sat across from Julianne and Johnny. Lisbeth rubbed the wood, remembering the many meals she’d eaten at this very table—bored as a young child, nervous that she or Jack would provoke an angry outburst as she grew older, and finally scared of divulging secrets that would harm Mattie or herself.
Fearing Sadie and Sammy would be confused by the rituals of the meal, before they sat down she had instructed them to take their cues from Johnny to know when to speak or from her to know what utensil to use. Sadie proudly showed off a new look, her hair held back by a lovely mother-of-pearl headband with two sausage curls hanging down the sides of her head. At the start of the meal Sammy put his hands out for grace, but he quickly returned them to his lap when he saw that no one else was reaching out. There were so many little differences in this home that reminded them they didn’t really belong here.
Emily came out of a swinging door with a plate of fish. She moved around the table to serve each seated person. Sammy had no problems getting the food to his plate. Lisbeth offered to serve Sadie, but her daughter waved her off, whispering that she could do it herself. A few drops of sauce landed on the tablecloth, but otherwise she was successful.
Lisbeth felt a combination of familiarity and discomfiture being served. Her childhood had prepared her well for it, but in Ohio they did not have any help in the house. She wanted to signal to Emily that she found this whole system barbaric, but didn’t know how to without drawing unwanted attention to herself, or to Emily.
She could not recall her children ever having the experience of being served, but they handled it without embarrassment. The adults made polite conversation of no consequence, while the children sat quietly. Lisbeth was proud that Sadie and Sammy ate the bass with oyster sauce and young greens without complaint, though they were unfamiliar tastes. Lisbeth searched for a topic of conversation when they fell into an awkward silence while eating their dessert of burnt custard.
“Mother tells me you are now a justice of the peace?” Lisbeth directed the question to her brother.
J
ack nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
Julianne filled in the details. “He was appointed to honor his service to the great cause. We make a special effort to reward the sacrifice of our prisoners of war. We take care of our Southern heroes.”
Lisbeth didn’t miss the not-so-subtle slight in Julianne’s words.
Sammy perked up and asked, “You were a prisoner of war, right?”
Jack nodded.
Respect and fascination in his voice, Sammy asked, “Did you have to eat any rats?”
Jack’s face contorted in disgust. “No! How could you think that?”
“Timmy’s pa said they ate them at Andersonville, ’cause there was no food,” Sammy explained.
“We had food,” Jack replied quietly.
Mother spoke up, heat on her cheeks and in her voice. “Our soldiers did not invade your lands, burn crops, and slaughter animals without mercy, leaving everyone, including women and children, to starve. That cannot be said for Union soldiers, who have no thought of human decency. Your soldiers went without food because your Mr. Lincoln was a cruel and heartless man.”
Lisbeth felt heat rising in her and tension building in her neck. She was dismayed that their exchange had taken this turn. Her goal had been to steer clear of controversial topics. She had asked her children to avoid talking about it, and on their first day here she herself was responsible for leading them directly into it.
Lisbeth deflected the conversation. “Tell me what your job entails as justice of the peace.”
Jack turned his head slowly and stared hard at Lisbeth. Her stomach dropped at the intensity of his gaze. “I keep the peace, just like it says in the name,” he drawled without emotion.
“Jack makes certain the social order is maintained, even in these trying times,” Julianne said. “Large number of niggers have deserted the plantations and congregate in cities.”
Lisbeth flinched at the word. Subtly she looked in turn at each of her children. Each was staring at her with eyes wide in horror. They had been firmly taught that word was absolutely forbidden to ever be spoken.
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