Hope Returns

by Dorey Whittaker

  “Lisa,” Ben counseled gently as he handed over the phone, “do you really think not calling her will avoid that? You are worried about her so just call and we will handle whatever comes. Avoiding it will not make it go away.”

  As Lisa dialed the operator to place the long distance call and charge it to their room, she smiled at Ben and said, “That is another reason I love you, Ben. You always encourage me to do the right thing, even when it is hard.”

  Lisa was surprised to hear her daughter’s voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, Hope. Ben and I are just checking in. We wanted to make sure you got home safe and sound and to tell you how much it meant to both of us having you at our wedding.”

  Ben sat there proud as could be listening to Lisa maneuver through the conversation, avoiding pointed questions but showing real interest in what her daughter was sharing. “Your mother means well, Sweetie. She must really believe that Michael is the right man for you.”

  Ben watched as Lisa’s face took on a look of real concern as she said, “But, Hope, you are the one who will have to live with this decision, not her. I don’t know Michael at all so I don’t feel comfortable giving you advice, except to say, if you have doubts, then it is best that you call off the wedding until your doubts have been cleared up.”

  Lisa listened patiently as Hope went through all the reasons she did not feel right calling off the wedding. “Sweetie, I think you must have misunderstood what Ruth was saying about forgiveness. As a matter of fact I am quite certain she would not have meant that. Forgiveness does not mean you do not have the right to set boundaries in your life. You can forgive him for what he has done to you without allowing him to continue to mistreat you. You do not have to marry him to prove you have forgiven him. I know this for a fact because both Ruth and Gladys have been talking to me about this very subject for months now. You see, I am someone who has been forgiven so much, as you well know. For the past eleven years God has worked in my life, first restoring me back to health, then teaching me how to love and be loved. He forgave my past and has given me a future.

  “But I just could not accept the idea of ever forgiving my mother for what she did to me. For years I refused to even discuss this topic because it was too painful a thought. How could God ask this of me? So God did what He always does—He just kept loving me and growing me into the person who would, one day, allow Him to take me to the very place I feared the most—to my most painful hurts—the ones I needed to hand over to Him so my healing could become complete.

  “You see, Sweetie, forgiveness is not having to accept the same old behavior from someone who is hurting you or mistreating you. Forgiveness is not having to say that what they did wasn’t really awful. Forgiveness is not saying that they are free from God’s discipline for having done what they did.”

  “Then what is forgiveness, Mom?”

  “Hope, forgiveness is telling God that He is God and I am not. Forgiveness is finally letting go of the right to seek revenge or demand retribution for the wrongs you hold against that person. Forgiveness is actually an action you take before God, rather than before that person.

  “Judging is different from assessing that someone has done something wrong. Judging does include that but it goes much further. Judging includes demanding or petitioning God to take punitive action against this person, as if we have the right to order God to punish someone upon our request. Doing this is man’s way of playing God. Thinking we have the wisdom to decide another person’s punishment, desiring to withhold any chance of offering God’s mercy is something only a perfect and wise God can do. Every time we stand in judgment of another we are playing God.”

  “So I can forgive Michael but stand my ground and refuse to marry him? He thinks that if I refuse to marry him I have not really forgiven him.”

  “He would like you to believe that, Hope, but that is not true. Forgiving him is simply releasing any claim you have against him. It does not require that he accept it or understand it, you just have to extend it, first to God and then to him. What he does with that forgiveness is up to him, but you are then free of the burden.”

  Lisa hesitated for just a moment then decided to share her own struggle with this subject. “You know, Sweetie, I’m saying this as much for me as for you. I have held onto my mother’s offenses my whole life, thinking I could never forgive her. I thought forgiving her would mean she would never be held accountable for what she did. I also thought forgiving her meant I was saying what she did wasn’t really all that bad, and I could never do that. To be honest, for years I have not let Gladys or Ruth even get close to this topic because my hatred of my mother was so strong. I wanted to hold onto my right to demand justice for all I went through.”

  “Mom, I can certainly understand that. Your mother was horrid,” Hope affirmed.

  “Yes, she was, Hope, but as long as I hold onto my rights, I also hold onto my hurts. My not forgiving my mother does not hurt her, it hurts me. But, Hope, even if I forgive her, it does not mean I have to prove it to the world by letting her back into my inner circle and continue to mistreat me and that is the point. Forgiveness is simply letting go of your right to demand justice. It appears that we both need to do a little forgiving now that we understand what it really means.”

  “I guess so, Mom,” Hope replied without much conviction.

  “Hope, the right thing is not always going to be the easy thing, right? But, Sweetie, doing the right thing is easier to live with in the long haul than doing the easy thing and living with a wrong for the rest of your life. Believe me, I have done both. I have to get going but just know that Ben and I are praying for you as you decide what you will do.”

  Lisa joked as she hung up the phone, “I’m glad God has a plan here because I sure don’t. I know what I want for her but I don’t get to make the decisions in Hope’s life. But I do know one thing—there are no coincidences in this world and I can see God is working in my girl’s life and I can trust Him.”

  Ben stood up and took Lisa by the hand and suggested, “Why don’t we take a few minutes to look around this beautiful old plantation. Scott and Susan have been coming here for years and love it. I think that pretty private dining room over there is where Scott told me he asked Susan to marry him. Every anniversary since, they have had their special dinner in that room, so let’s go take a peek at it.”

  Ben slid the ten-foot-tall hand-carved mahogany pocket doors wide open and allowed Lisa to walk into the old plantation study first. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with period appropriate books gathered over the years and donated to the plantation. Sprinkled among these books were black and white photos of the painstaking labor to restore this old plantation house back to what it once was. A plaque on the wall told about the team of investors who purchased the house from the original family back in the early nineteen twenties, after over sixty years of it setting there boarded up after being ransacked and left as ruins by the raid on Atlanta toward the end of the War Between the States.

  As Lisa read the plaque her eyes rested on an all too familiar name and she cried out, “Oh, Ben, do you know what this place is? Look!”

  Ben leaned down and looked at the name Lisa was pointing to and read out loud, “This plantation was owned and operated by the Stewart Family from 1795 to 1865 when the Civil War broke the back of slavery and the family could no longer maintain the property. Returning home from being wounded at Savannah, Mr. Charles Stewart, the second master of the plantation, simply had the windows boarded up and lived out the rest of his life at the home of his only daughter, Elizabeth, some five miles away. It is said that he never returned to the old place but could not part with it. For years after his death the investors pleaded with Miss Elizabeth to sell the place so it could be restored before it was too late, but knowing her father’s wishes, she refused as well. On her death bed she gave her son permission to sell the property but only if it was to these investors who had promised to bring it back to all of its original glory.”


  The Stewart Plantation, Atlanta, Georgia

  “Ben, do you know what this means? This is the Stewart Plantation.”

  “So?” Ben studied his wife’s eyes as she kept repeating this over and over. “Obviously this means something special to you. Are you going to keep me in suspense or are you going to tell me what is making you so very excited?”

  “Ben, Tobias’s grandfather, Samuel, and his whole family, were slaves on this very plantation. Ruth’s husband, Tobias, wrote a book about his grandfather and the sisters who were all born here. Ruth told me that back in 1959 Tobias had a terrible stroke and was in a coma for weeks, but even though he could not talk or respond, his mind was intact and he worried that all of his family history was going to die with him. She said that as soon as Tobias was able to talk, she helped him record everything he had been told as a young boy about his family’s life on this plantation and the years of struggle after the war. She said they worked on the story for the last two years of Tobias’s life and finished it just before he was finally taken home.

  “Ruth’s Tobias was born up in Harlem, New York, but, because Harlem was a dangerous place for young black boys, at the age of seven, he was sent back to Atlanta to be raised by The Sisters, as they were affectionately called. Ms. Pearl and Ms. Ruby called him Toby-Boy. He grew up hearing all about their lives as slaves on this very plantation. These stories were so much a part of his young life, he had a really good picture of life on this plantation.

  A few years back Ruth allowed me to read the Bascom family story and it was wonderful. In it, he talked about all the different kinds of shackles, chains, handcuffs, and fetters we all experience. Some are actual shackles, like the ones his relatives experienced during slavery. Then he went on to talk about the invisible shackles and chains we all carry around, chains of shame, shackles of bitterness, handcuffs of revenge, and the worst ones, according to Tobias are the fetters we willingly hold onto because we will not let go of the offenses of the past, which bind our feet to our past so we cannot walk forward in life in full freedom. He said, breaking free with God’s help is the only way our past will not define our future. Ben, when I read that book, everything Gladys and Ruth had told me about forgiveness finally made sense to me—but I still could not let go of my anger. I knew that my holding onto my hatred of my mother was actually keeping me bound to her and stopping me from breaking free, living a life free of the shackles of my childhood. At the time, I am ashamed to say, I did not follow every step Tobias said are necessary because I wanted to hold onto my anger. It wasn’t until I saw the same need in my daughter, that the truth of what I needed to do became crystal clear to me. I think you and I need to read that book together and follow the steps without any excuses.”

  “Lisa, after we learn to take these steps, you and I should try to help her get it published someday. After hearing Gladys tell her life story the other day, knowing how important Tobias is to our lives, I think we owe it to him to get his family story out there so others can read it. After all, if Tobias had not loved Gladys through her anger, she might have lived her whole life in that stew of anger. If that had happened, there would have been no wonderful Aunt Gladys and Ruth Bascom to come alongside of you when you needed the help. I don’t even want to imagine my life without you. So, you see, we both owe Tobias a huge debt of gratitude.”

  Perusing the shelves of the library, Lisa’s eyes lit on a leather bound ledger high on one of the shelves. “Ben, can you reach that ledger on the top shelf?”

  Ben spotted a folded library ladder leaning against the side panel of the bookcase, pulled it out and climbed up to the top shelf and lifted down the dusty leather-bound ledger. Afraid she would not be allowed to open it if she asked permission, Lisa quickly undid the leather ties that held it closed and laid it open on the closest available tabletop. As she suspected, this ledger was Master Stewart’s slave log showing purchases, trades, births and deaths of all his property. Lisa scanned the names, hoping to find what she was looking for.

  Turning the brittle yellow pages with care, both Ben and Lisa searched for the name Tobias Samuel, and Ms. Pearl and Ms. Ruby. Halfway down the sixth page was entered: Boy Tobias Samuel, born to Esther Bascom, the house cook, June 25, 1847 – healthy. Then out at the margin was a later notation. Purchased, this October 7, 1849, one adult slave, named Tobias—henceforth, boy, Tobias Samuel will be known as, Samuel.

  Five pages later was the entry: Twins born to Esther the house cook – two girls – named Pearl and Ruby, October 10, 1852—both healthy.

  “Ben, we found them. That was Tobias’s grandfather, and these are ‘The Sisters.’ Do you think the management would allow us to get a copy of these pages? I would love to take them back to Ruth as a gift.”

  Ben lifted up the ledger in his huge gentle hands, smiled down at Lisa and said, “Let’s give it a try, Lisa. If they won’t then we can get your camera and try to take a photo. Actually, I think you should run back to our room and get your camera before we talk to anyone in management. I will wait here and protect the ledger. Here is our room key, but hurry up. One way or the other we are not leaving here without proof that we found the Bascom family history.”

  Chapter 23

  Crest View Drive, New Year’s Day was heating up. Harold Gundersol walked into the solarium and abruptly ordered Estelle’s assistant to leave the room, something quite out of character for him but the unmistakable tone in his voice caused her to leave without even looking in her boss’s direction.

  Taken aback by this sudden show of assertiveness by Harold, Estelle decided it best to remain quiet, curious about what was behind her husband’s strange behavior. She watched as Harold closed the French doors behind the assistant, then waited until he returned and took the seat next to her before asking in a very acid tone, “So what has you all fired up?”

  Harold, not yet ready to answer this challenge, got up, poured himself a stiff drink, downed it, then returned to his seat and asked, “Just how long have you known about this Marla person?”

  The shocked look on Estelle’s face confirmed several of Harold’s questions and he did not wait for a response before adding, “So you do know who I am talking about? Don’t bother denying it; once I found out, I had my accountant go through all your bank records.”

  Feeling violated at having her personal records invaded, Estelle flew into a rage, “How dare you, Harold. Those accounts are my family money. How did you gain access to them?”

  “That isn’t really the point here, Estelle,” Harold bellowed. “Don’t you remember, about ten years ago you added me as a signature on those accounts? So, I had every right to do what I did; but you did not. Estelle, if I could find out what you did, don’t you think any inquisitive reporter could find it out?”

  Not accustomed to being anyone’s target, Estelle got up and thundered around the solarium, “Harold, I don’t know what you are implying here, but I do not like it.”

  “You don’t like it? YOU don’t like it? Estelle, we have spent the past twenty-eight years prepping Michael for office. We sent him to the best schools, groomed him for public office, given him the Gundersol dynasty, and it is all ruined. If you had told me about this Marla six years ago, maybe we could have done something, but no, Estelle thinks she knows everything. Does he know that you have been paying this woman off for the past six years?”

  “No, Michael does not, but he does know that I know about her. I found out about her by accident six years ago. Apparently, he had met her during his junior year at Berkeley. She was already married and had two kids. Her husband wasn’t wealthy, but was well connected and she loved his connections but not him. At first, our son was just a boy-toy for her but she really had her hooks into him and had no intention of letting go of him.”

  “Did you actually talk to her?”

  “Of course I did. Do you think I was going to sit back and allow this woman to ruin our future?”

  “You mean our son’s future, don’t you, Estelle?
”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Harold. But let’s be honest, you and I both know how much we want that future. So, she and I met twice; neither meeting went well. She wasn’t interested in divorcing her husband, but neither was she willing to give up Michael.” Then Estelle decided that if Harold wanted to know it all then he deserved to hear it all. “Brace yourself, Harold. Michael is the father of her third child. The kid is now five years old and her husband was convinced it was his, but Michael knows the truth.”

  Harold sank down into his chair as if he were punched in the gut. “So where does Hope fall into all of this? If Michael is so madly in love with this other woman, why the charade with Hope?”

  Harold could see a look of pride come over Estelle’s face as she began to explain, “Harold, this Marla was married and had no intention of divorcing. Michael knew his political future would be ruined if Marla was ever discovered, but he also refused to let go of her. So, we decided he would ask Hope to marry him, just for show. He does not love her, but you and I both know how important it is for him to have a beautiful wife on his arm for political clout.”

  “And Hope is okay with this?”

  “Harold, don’t be so naive. Why do you think I started cultivating a friendship with Jean Winslow five years ago? It certainly was not because she is such an interesting person. Get real. Jean loved all the events I took her to and she was so easy to manipulate. All I had to do was make a casual suggestion and Jean would run with it. I started out hinting at all the benefits Hope would have being married to my son and Jean’s eyes glazed over like a deer in my crosshairs. I worked on her for almost a year before I told Michael what I was doing.”

  “How did you talk him into this little scheme of yours, and how did this Marla take it?”