All Things New

by Lynn Austin

  Josephine halted. Harrison Blake! She was almost to the Blakes’ plantation. Maybe she could borrow their carriage to get to town. She didn’t think she had the strength to run all that way. Jo turned up the lane to Harrison’s house. Then she had another thought. What if she could convince Harrison to help her? He owed Lizzie an enormous debt for what he had done to her, so the least he could do was save her and her children. Daniel and the others would listen to Harrison, their former captain.

  Josephine decided to go around to the rear door and get one of the servants to go inside and fetch him. She wouldn’t let Priscilla know she was there. But Harrison was sitting in his wheelchair on the front porch as Jo jogged up his driveway, and he saw her before she saw him.

  “Who’s there?” he called out to her.

  “It’s me, Josephine,” she panted. “I need your help.”

  “Josephine . . . ?”

  “Yes.” She halted, leaning against the hitching post to catch her breath. The front door was open and so were all the windows. She prayed he would come down to talk to her so that Priscilla wouldn’t overhear them. It seemed like an eternity before Harrison stood and reached for his crutches, then hobbled down the steps.

  “What are you doing here? You look a mess.”

  “I ran all the way here.”

  “Ran . . . ? Why?”

  “Because I need your help, Harrison. Please listen to me—I’ll do anything you want me to do in return, but please, please help me.”

  “Slow down and catch your breath. I can’t understand you.”

  “I’ll marry you, if that’s what you want, and I’ll be your loving wife. Anything, but I’m begging you to help me.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My brother Daniel and his friends are planning to do something terrible to our Negroes. They took Otis and Lizzie’s children and—”

  “Wait. If it’s a problem with your slaves, you need to know I’ll believe your brother’s word before I’ll ever believe a Negro’s. Settle it with him yourself.”

  “No, listen to me, Harrison. It’s a trap. Daniel is setting a trap. He’s holding our servants’ children captive. He’s trying to lure Otis and Lizzie into the woods, and when he does, he’ll probably kill them.”

  “I don’t believe it. Why would he kill them?”

  “Otis was a witness the night two Negroes were killed in the woods. He knows that Daniel was there. And Otis knows it was Daniel who burned down the Freedmen’s Bureau. Lizzie knows the truth, too. Daniel is afraid that when the Yankees come back, Otis and Lizzie will testify to his guilt. He plans to kill them all! Please, Harrison. We have to save them.”

  “Why involve me?”

  “Because . . . because I know the truth about what you did fifteen years ago. You told me you were going to hell for your sins and . . . and I know what you meant. You and my brother raped one of our slaves. She was just a young girl, and the two of you seduced and raped her.”

  Harrison teetered on his crutches and nearly lost his balance. Jo grabbed his arm to keep him from falling. The look on his face was one of shame and horror.

  “I paid for that crime a thousand times over,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion. “I’ve been to hell . . . and I’m still in hell for that crime. I’ll have to live this way for the rest of my life. How is helping you supposed to atone for my past?”

  “Because the slave you raped got pregnant. She had a daughter. That’s the girl who Daniel kidnapped tonight—your daughter. He’s going to kill her.”

  “My daugh . . . ? Are you making this up?”

  “No, I’m not. It’s the truth, I swear it. Please, Harrison. Daniel will listen to you. He and the other men respect you. This is your chance to make up for what you did to Lizzie. You can save her and her family.”

  “Harrison?” Priscilla had come out onto the porch. “Who are you talking to? Who’s here?”

  “It’s nothing, Mother. Go back inside.” He and Josephine waited, neither one daring to speak. But Priscilla didn’t move from the porch. “She doesn’t know,” Harrison whispered. “She never found out about what Sam and I did. It would have killed her.”

  “Then help me. Please,” Jo whispered back.

  “Josephine? What are you doing here?” Priscilla had come down the stairs. She stood staring at her, and Jo knew she must look a wreck, her hair falling loose, her clothes plastered with sweat. “What in the world is going on? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blake. I promise to explain it to you later, but I need Harrison’s help, and we have to hurry.” She looked up at him, pleading silently. He hadn’t agreed to help her, and she held her breath, waiting. If he refused, she would ask to borrow his carriage and go find Dr. Hunter by herself. But she was running out of time.

  “Is something wrong at White Oak?” Priscilla asked. “Is your family all right?”

  “Yes, my family is fine . . .” Jo gripped Harrison’s wrist, the one he had slashed with his razor. “Please,” she whispered.

  At last he spoke. “I’ll explain everything later, Mother. Jo needs help with one of her slaves.”

  “But . . . but where are you going?”

  “It’s nothing, Mother. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Come on,” he said to Josephine. “We’ll need to take my horse.”

  His progress was painfully slow as he limped all the way across the yard to the stables on his crutches. Jo didn’t know how he could maneuver over the rough ground in the dark. He was panting and sweating with exertion before they were even halfway there, and Josephine saw the enormous effort it cost him to go such a distance. She opened the stable door for him and couldn’t see a thing inside. How would they ever find the horse, much less get it saddled?

  “Henry!” Harrison called out. “Henry, are you in here?”

  “Yes, sir,” a voice called back.

  “I need you to saddle my horse for me.”

  “Yes, sir. Just let me light this lantern first, sir.”

  Josephine sagged against the doorpost with relief. Thank heaven the Blakes had Negro servants to help them. Thank heaven for Alexander and the Freedmen’s Bureau. A light flared a moment later, and she watched as the young Negro boy got Harrison’s horse ready for him to ride, exchanging the halter for a bridle, putting on the blanket, then the saddle, cinching it tightly, adjusting the stirrups. Jo wanted to plead with him to hurry, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

  “Now help me up,” Harrison said at last. The boy took Harrison’s crutches, then held him upright as he leaned against the horse and pulled himself up into the saddle. Harrison was weary from their trek across the yard, and it took a great deal of effort for him to heave himself up. How humiliating it must be for him to need so much help. And Jo could tell by the grimace on Harrison’s face that the maneuver had been painful, as well. He was sweating and pale by the time he was finally astride.

  “Help me up, too, please,” she told the servant.

  “No, Josephine. You’re staying here. Tell me where I should go.”

  “I want to come with you. I know how to ride. Tell him to help me up.”

  The horse snorted and stamped in place, waiting. “You don’t trust me, do you?” Harrison said. “You don’t think I’ll really help your slaves.”

  “Harrison, please. I don’t want to argue with you. I promised Lizzie and Otis that I would bring their children back. They will be terrified if I’m not there. I’m going with you.”

  “Why must you always be so stubborn?”

  “I promise I’ll never defy you again. I’ll do whatever you ask of me for the rest of our lives, but please, please let me come with you.”

  He finally nodded to the servant, and the boy helped boost Josephine up to ride behind him. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him. Harrison flicked the reins, and the horse moved through the door and out into the night. “Where to?” he asked.

  “They’re hiding back in the woods between White Oak
and town. Where the Negroes were camping out for a while. Do you know the place I mean?”

  “I think so. If we go out to the main road, there’s a path that will take us back there.”

  “Just hurry, Harrison. Please.”

  They went down the drive and out to the main road at a trot, and she felt an enormous relief to be traveling so quickly at last. But then it seemed to take forever to find the path in the dark, and when they did the horse made slow progress through the dense brush. The moon and stars weren’t able to penetrate deep into the woods. It had become a night from hell with mosquitoes biting and insects buzzing in the steamy summer heat as Josephine raced against time, praying she wouldn’t arrive too late.

  She had begun to think they were lost, but then the trees and brush thinned out and Josephine saw a clearing ahead. She heard a horse whinny and the low murmur of voices for just a moment before the woods went deathly still. Harrison halted. She heard the slide and click of rifles on the other side of the clearing. Why hadn’t she told Harrison to bring a gun?

  “Can you slide down by yourself?” Harrison whispered.

  “Yes . . . I think so.” He held the horse steady as she turned and lowered herself to the ground, her stomach pressed against the horse’s body. The ground was farther away than she had thought, her legs weak with fatigue, and she landed on the hard ground with a painful thud.

  “Stay here.” Harrison rode forward into the clearing. Was she a fool to trust him? Jo began to pray, as hard as she had on the night she’d saved Alexander, pleading and bargaining with God. It couldn’t be His will that innocent children died, could it?

  “Hello!” he called. “It’s me, Harrison Blake.”

  The silence lengthened. Jo held her breath, waiting. Then a masked figure stepped into the clearing. “Captain Blake? What are you doing here?”

  “I should ask you the same thing . . . Is that you, Joseph? Who else is with you?”

  “Just some . . . friends. It’s nothing you need to worry about, Captain.” Two more men emerged from the shadows, rifles in hand. Jo was certain the man on the left was her brother, but none of them removed their masks. Another dark figure remained half hidden near the edge of the clearing, and Jo saw two small forms huddled on the ground at his feet. Roselle and Jack. She could hear them whimpering.

  “Is that you, Daniel?” Harrison asked. “I understand you’re having a problem with your slaves.”

  “Isn’t everyone these days?” His voice was muffled, but Jo recognized it. “They’re getting out of hand, Captain. Trying to take over and endangering our women. They have to be stopped.”

  “You mean the children you took? How are they a danger to you?”

  There was a long pause before Daniel said, “With all due respect, Captain Blake, there’s no need for you to get involved in this.”

  “Maybe not, but your sister asked me to.”

  “Josephine? I might have known. Don’t believe a word she says, Captain. She’s a traitor. She’s been collaborating with that Yankee and—”

  “Enough!” Harrison shouted. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed? We lost the war! If you continue to fight, you’ll lose all over again!”

  “My slaves are going to betray us to the Yankees. They have to be silenced.”

  “There would be nothing for them to tell if you hadn’t burned down the Freedmen’s Bureau in the first place. Everyone knows it was you.”

  “We wanted that Yankee out of town, but he wouldn’t take a hint so—”

  “Stop it! Stop wasting your time with more hatred and killing and revenge. It’ll never end. It’s time to start all over again and rebuild our homes and our lives. Can’t you see that? I didn’t understand it either until Josephine made me see the truth. But she’s right. We have to stop hating and start living.”

  Daniel moved into the clearing, closer to Harrison. “Listen, Captain. Thanks to my sister, we’re all going to be turned over to her Yankee friend. Not only that, one of my slaves spewed a bunch of lies about you and Samuel, and it nearly killed my mother. They need to pay for it. Then none of the others will ever try to get out of line again.”

  “Your slave wasn’t lying, Daniel. She was telling the truth. I was there. Sam and I raped her, just like she said. When your father found out, he said it was an affront to God and he sent Sam away. I was too young and cocky to understand. I thought it was my right to treat slaves any way I wanted to. But I’ve paid for it. Samuel paid an even greater price. Don’t add guilt to your soul the way we did. End this right now. Let those children go home. And you go home, too.”

  “Since when are you on the slaves’ side?”

  “There are no more sides, don’t you get it? The war blasted all of that away. None of us have anything left. All that’s left is right and wrong, and this is wrong. It’s wrong! Even if the Yankees let you go free, God won’t. You’ll pay for what you did one way or another. Believe me, I know.”

  He paused, waiting. Josephine couldn’t breathe.

  “Let them go, Daniel,” he repeated. “Go home. Seeking revenge is just another way to commit suicide.”

  Daniel took another step closer. “And if I don’t do what you say?”

  For a long moment, no one spoke. Sweat trickled down Josephine’s back. Harrison’s horse fidgeted in place. “Then I guess you’ll have to kill me, too,” Harrison said quietly. “That Negro girl you have over there? She just might be my daughter.”

  Daniel stared up at Harrison for what seemed like a very long time. Finally he turned away and strode over to untie his own horse. Without another word, Daniel swung up into the saddle and rode away. After a long pause, the other men did the same, leaving Roselle and Jack behind. Josephine ran across the clearing and pulled them into her arms. They clung so tightly to her that her ribs ached.

  “It’s over now. You’re safe,” Josephine soothed. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  “I want to go home!” Jack wailed.

  “Yes, Jack. Yes. Captain Blake is going to show us the way home.”

  Harrison found the path and led them through the woods. Jack and Roselle clutched Josephine’s hands as they stumbled along behind him in the dark.

  “What about the ducks?” Jack asked. “They took Roselle’s ducks.”

  “They’ll be all right. They’re wild creatures, Jack. They’ll be happier now that they’re free.”

  Josephine’s legs ached by the time they emerged from the woods near the tree house. They were almost home. Harrison halted, and the children let go of Josephine’s hands to run toward the house. Lizzie and Otis stood outside the kitchen, watching, waiting. They saw them coming across the yard and ran to meet them.

  “Oh, thank you, Lord! Thank you!” Otis cried. Lizzie couldn’t seem to speak at all as she pulled her children into her arms. Josephine was so tired she wanted to sink down to the ground and cry with relief and weariness and joy. She looked behind her to thank Harrison and saw that he had turned the horse around to ride back into the woods.

  “Harrison, wait!” When he didn’t stop or slow down, she summoned her last reserve of strength and ran after him, grabbing the horse’s bridle to stop him. “Wait! . . . Listen . . . how can I ever thank you for what you’ve done?”

  He shook his head, gazing straight ahead into the woods. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Is that girl really Lizzie’s daughter?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Listen . . . I meant what I said about marrying you. I’ll—”

  “I’m going home now. I’m sure my mother will be worried.” The horse moved forward.

  “Harrison!” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Stop punishing yourself. You’ve earned Lizzie’s forgiveness. And God will forgive you, too, if you ask.”

  “Since when are you His spokesman?” he asked bitterly. He flicked the reins and the horse started forward again.

  Josephine watched him go, feeling sorry for him. Whether or not she married Harrison, she knew she owed him something in
return. She promised herself that she would spend more time with him. Maybe she could help him find God again the way Alexander had helped her.

  She trudged back to the house, so weary that she could probably sleep for days. Lizzie and Otis wanted to show their gratitude, but she told them to take their children home to bed. “Thank God, not me,” she said. As she watched them go, she wondered how they would ever feel safe again.

  The war had ended—but it hadn’t. The Yankees would be back. Daniel’s bitterness would likely grow worse, and Mother would be forced to grieve another loss if the Yankees took him away. Would any of their lives ever be the same? Would the sorrow and fear ever stop? The war may have ended, but the effects of it seemed to go on and on. “Nobody wins a war,” Alexander once told her. “We all lose in one way or another.” As she staggered up the stairs to bed, Josephine knew he was right.

  36

  JULY 29, 1965

  Josephine was exhausted the next morning, but she rose at her usual time, afraid her mother would ask too many questions if she remained in bed. She dressed quickly and went outside to the kitchen to find Lizzie and Otis. She wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find them too shaken and exhausted from their ordeal to do any work. Nor would she be surprised if they were packing up their family to leave White Oak for good. But the kitchen looked as it did every morning, with a fire on the hearth, Lizzie hard at work, and the aroma of fresh biscuits in the air. Roselle was churning butter, Rufus filling the woodbox, Jack pumping water—all the morning routines proceeding smoothly.

  Jo looked around at the activity in amazement. “Are you all right? I wasn’t sure you would even want to work after . . .”