by Ginny Dye
“It’s not really that difficult,” Felicia replied. “Why do people simply go along with the rules other people make? I’ve been thinking about that a lot. Don’t they realize they should be the ones to make the rules for their own lives?”
“Evidently not,” Marietta said dryly. She picked up her last biscuit, watching as the first flakes from the coming snowstorm began to dance against the massive oak towering over the three-storied home. After growing up in the city, being on the plantation always felt like being in a fairytale. She never grew tired of it.
“Miss Marietta?”
“Yes?” Marietta pulled her thoughts back to the library. She was not here to indulge in fantasy, though she couldn’t imagine what she could add to this extraordinary girl’s life.
“Are you afraid?”
Marietta gazed at her, surprised by the question. “Afraid of what?”
Felicia hesitated. “Afraid of the KKK,” she finally said, a slight quaver to her voice. “The KKK hates black people, but from what I read they hate white teachers about as much.”
Marietta took a deep breath, remembering Felicia’s plea for honesty at the initial meeting. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m afraid every day. I’m afraid for myself. I’m afraid for Jeremy. I’m afraid for my students, and I’m afraid for everyone I love.”
Felicia stared at her. “I’m afraid, too,” she said. “I’m afraid to leave the plantation.”
Marietta thought about the attacks already made on the plantation, but fear of the unknown was usually stronger than fear of what you knew. “I understand how you feel, honey, but I can promise you will be much safer in Oberlin.”
“That’s what Mama told me, too,” Felicia said, although her voice and eyes were full of doubt.
“You don’t believe her?” Marietta understood fear far too well. “What have you read about Oberlin?” she asked. She wasn’t going to repeat platitudes the girl had probably already heard. She hoped facts would help soothe her fears.
“Oberlin was founded by two Presbyterian ministers who were friends. They didn’t like how things were going in America so they decided to start both a community and a college that would change it,” Felicia answered. “In the beginning, tuition was free because all the students were expected to contribute by building the community. It’s not that way anymore because it didn’t turn out to be very efficient, but it started Oberlin.”
“Go on,” Marietta encouraged.
“When they were two years old, there were only a few hundred residents, but they started sending out abolitionist missionaries across the country to fight against slavery.” Felicia’s eyes took on a shine. “And lots of black folks, both free and runaway slaves, started moving there. They were the first college to admit both men and women of all colors.”
Marietta had done her own research on Oberlin when she discovered Rose and Moses were going there with their family. “Weren’t they part of the Underground Railroad?”
“Yes,” Felicia answered eagerly. “There were thousands of my people who went through Oberlin when they escaped. Even when the government passed the Fugitive Slave Law, the people there kept helping the slaves go free. Instead of helping them settle in Ohio, they took them all the way up to Canada.”
“I believe Frederick Douglass called it the ‘Gibraltar of Freedom,’” Marietta added.
Felicia’s eyes widened. “You know a lot about Oberlin, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Why have you learned about it?”
Marietta hesitated, but spurred on by Felicia’s plea for the truth, answered honestly. “Because I’ve been afraid for your family here in Virginia. Things are going to get worse, Felicia. I don’t want any of you to be harmed. If I were to pick one place in the whole country for you to be, I would choose Oberlin, Ohio.”
Felicia absorbed the statement. “Do you think that is why Mama chose Oberlin?”
“No,” Marietta admitted. “Your mama would not have let fear stop her if she believed she and your father would get a better education somewhere else. The fact that Oberlin is safe is just a bonus. A bonus I’m very grateful for.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“You said you were afraid for you and Jeremy. What are you doing about that?”
Marietta took a deep breath. She had known they would come back to that. “I’m choosing to not let fear stop me,” she said. She leaned forward for emphasis. “Felicia, there are always things to be afraid of. You are going to be safe in Oberlin, but I don’t believe all of you will stay there. Your parents are getting an education so they can make a difference—that won’t include staying in Oberlin. They may settle in the North, or they may return to the South. You may end up staying there until you graduate from college yourself, but the odds are that you won’t remain there for the rest of your life. And John and Hope could end up anywhere,” Marietta added, and then continued, speaking softly to make the words easier to hear. “Things are going to be hard for blacks in America for a very long time. You are free, but you are not safe.”
“I know,” Felicia said tremulously.
“But that does not mean you need to act afraid,” Marietta said. “I was honest when I told you I am afraid every day, but I do not act afraid. I do the things I believe are right, and I say the things I believe are right. I teach because black children deserve an education. Doing so puts my life in danger every day, and I know it, but I won’t let that knowledge stop me.”
Felicia was watching her closely. “You feel afraid, but you don’t act afraid,” she repeated. “Is it hard?”
“Sometimes,” Marietta admitted. “But it can also be fun.”
“Fun?” Felicia asked skeptically.
“Fun,” Marietta repeated. “Remember those rules you were talking about? There are rules that say women are the weaker sex. Most people tend to believe them. They are always caught off guard when a woman doesn’t act like the weaker sex. It gives us the advantage sometimes because people aren’t expecting us to act strong.” She grinned. “I love seeing the surprised looks when I don’t behave the way people believe I am supposed to.”
Felicia returned her grin. “Are your mama and grandma strong like you?”
“Stronger,” Marietta replied. “They have been my role models for my entire life.”
“Are they scared to have you down here in the South, and married to a man who is half-black? I read that the Klan hates people like Jeremy almost as much as me.”
There was the crux of the issue, Marietta acknowledged. “My family worries about me, but they support my decisions.”
Felicia considered that for a moment. “Can I ask you a real personal question?”
Marietta almost laughed. Had Felicia not already been asking personal questions? “Go ahead.”
“What are you going to do if you have a baby that looks black?”
Marietta ran possibilities of answers through her mind. She and Jeremy had discussed the possibility when they chose to marry almost a year ago. She opted for the truth. “I don’t know.”
“Will it bother you to have a black baby?”
“Absolutely not,” Marietta said. “I will love that baby with all my heart.”
“Will you stay here?”
Again, Marietta chose the truth. “I don’t know.”
Chapter Sixteen
January 1, 1868
Carrie was already dressed and ready when the knock came. She had been sitting by the window, watching the moon play over the glimmering snow. A barn owl had glided silently out of the woods as she watched, skimming low over the ground in search of prey. A six-point buck and doe had emerged from the woods and stood as still as regal statues for several long minutes before they bounded off.
Carrie opened the door to her room and slipped out quietly, avoiding the creaking boards she had discovered long ago as a child. “Good morning,” she whispered.
“Good morning,” Rose whispered back, but she didn�
�t start moving down the hall. Instead, she pointed to Carrie’s room.
Puzzled, Carrie pushed the door back open and walked in with Rose. “Is something wrong?” She had been looking forward to their tradition for months. She had missed getting up for the New Year’s sunrise the year before because she had been so ill with morning sickness. The memory caused a flash of pain. That was the day she had discovered she was pregnant with Bridget. She shook her head, not wanting to remember.
Rose, sensitive to her every mood, took her hand. “Nothing is wrong. It’s just cold out there.”
Carrie raised a brow. “Certainly you’re not going to let a little snow keep us from what may be our last New Year’s Day sunrise.”
“I can’t bear to think of it that way.” Rose frowned. “But no, I’m not going to let a little snow stop me, but I’m thinking that perhaps we can change the place we actually watch the sunrise.”
“Why? We’ve gone to the same rock every year since we were children.”
“True, but isn’t the important thing that we are together?”
Carrie was the one to frown now. “What are you trying to say, Rose? Where do you want to go?”
Rose smiled. “There is a perfectly lovely log on the bank of the river that faces east for the sunrise.”
Carrie grinned. “Are you getting old?”
Rose stuck out her tongue. “I’m getting wiser,” she protested. “Why should we tramp through a foot of snow in the dark when we can walk down a perfectly dry tunnel lit by the candles we hold? A sunrise is a sunrise,” she insisted.
Carrie laughed. “It’s a wonderful idea. And since we won’t be tramping through a foot of snow, we can also carry thick quilts to keep us even warmer.” She opened the lid to her cedar chest and grabbed two colorful quilts. She tossed one to Rose and then tucked another under her arm before she walked to the mirror and pulled the handle that would reveal the tunnel her ancestors had built. As she lit the candles she laughed softly. “Wiser. Definitely wiser.”
*****
The sky was scattered with cumulus clouds when the sun began to shimmer far below the horizon.
Rose sat, her heart and mind full as she watched a new year unfold. She clasped Carrie’s hand as the clouds began to glow a soft gray while they floated across the sky. Moments later, they took on a pink hue that seemed to dance through the gray, slowly transforming it to a startling orange as the sun continued its ascent. The water of the James River went from steel black to coal gray, to a glowing coral as it reflected the clouds hovering above.
The wind picked up a little, causing a ripple across the water that made the coral color dip and sway in time with the wind. A fish leapt, its silvery form hanging in the air for what seemed an impossibly long time before it landed with a splash. An eagle swooped from the sky, dove for the river, and departed with a fish wriggling in its talons.
Rose let the beauty explode through her soul. Carrie’s look of delight told her she was feeling the exact same thing. When the sun finally peeked its way over the horizon, the clouds framing it were alive with pink, orange and purple—a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colors.
“Hello, 1868,” Carrie whispered.
“Hello, 1868,” Rose repeated.
The two friends rose for their annual tradition. When the sun was fully above the horizon they both began to dance, twirling and spinning as they welcomed the new year. After a few minutes, they began to laugh hysterically, and then finally collapsed onto the log again.
“Happy New Year!” Carrie shouted.
“Happy New Year!”
They stared at each other for a long moment before grabbing each other into an embrace.
Rose was suddenly certain she would never be able to let go. How could she? How could she leave? Going to college was what she had always wanted, but the reality was something else.
“You’re doing it again,” Carrie chided.
“Doing it?” Rose asked, pretending she didn’t understand.
“You’re trying to come up with reasons why you shouldn’t go to college.”
Rose sighed. “Not reasons why I shouldn’t go to college,” she protested. “Reasons why I shouldn’t leave the plantation.”
“Your mama would skin you good if she could hear you,” Carrie scolded.
Rose shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t. She would tell me to go, but she would understand what it means for me to leave here.” She looked around. “With the exception of the war years, this has always been home. First, I was a slave here. Now I’m free. Cromwell Plantation is home.”
Carrie sobered. “I know,” she said gently. “I do understand.”
Rose met her eyes. “Do you?”
“I think so. I haven’t experienced it the same way you have, and I’ve been gone for school already, but I knew that every time I came back, the people I loved most would be here.” Carrie took a deep breath. “That is no longer going to be true,” she said sadly. “You and Moses won’t be here. Felicia, John and Hope won’t be here. Nothing will ever be the same.”
Rose didn’t try to correct her because she knew it was true. “We always knew this time would come,” she said.
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Rose fell silent, watching as the sun continued its upward arc. The clouds gradually surrendered their colors and turned soft white. The sky became a startling blue that reflected in the river flowing at their feet.
“Are we wiser now?” Carrie demanded.
Rose smiled, remembering the conversation they’d had by her mama’s grave earlier that year. “Wisdom comes from great suffering,” she murmured.
“So are we wise yet?”
“You are both certainly wiser than you were.”
Rose and Carrie almost fell off the log when the voice sounded behind them.
Rose was the first to find her voice. “Abby! How did you find us?”
Abby smiled. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Never!” they answered in unison.
Abby looked at Carrie. “Thomas began to worry when you weren’t back for brunch. He was afraid you had fallen in the river, or…” she hesitated briefly before she continued, “that something else had happened.”
Rose exchanged a look with Carrie. No one needed to expound on what that something else might have been, but her thoughts were on something else entirely. “What time is it? We’ve never missed a New Year’s Day Brunch!”
Abby smiled and pulled out the bag she had been holding behind her back. “I had a suspicion where you would be because it really is too cold for you to have walked through the snow and then sat down on a rock for this long. I confirmed the tunnel door was open, told your father not to worry, and then talked Annie into putting some of the feast into the bag.”
Carrie frowned. “But we have to get back!”
“Why?” Abby asked. “Carrie, you have created one amazing memory after another during the last ten days. Now it’s time for you and Rose to create one more special memory just for the two of you.” She held out the bag. “I’m not going to stay. I just wanted to make sure you don’t starve.”
Carrie glanced at Rose, saw the answer she expected, and then patted an empty place on the log. “Please don’t leave. It will make it even more special if you join us, and it might help us from turning even more melancholy.”
“I am honored,” Abby replied, sinking down onto the spot Carrie had indicated.
The three women sat quietly, watching as the day continued to unfold. A gaggle of geese flew overhead, their loud honking celebrating the new year. The wind had completely died down, and the mirror-like surface of the James River reflected the clouds, while the sun beamed off the snow mounded on the bank and the clumps that clung to the branches arching over the water.
Abby was the first to break the silence. “Every time I come here I wonder how in the world I can bring myself to return to the city.” She sighed. “It gets harder every time.”
> Carrie eyed her. “Haven’t you always lived in the city?”
“For all my adult life,” Abby agreed. “It’s where I needed to be to run the business, but I grew up in the country. My heart feels most at home here.”
“Mine, too,” Rose said.
“It’s very difficult for you to leave.” Abby’s statement was not a question.
Rose nodded. “I want to go. I want to stay.”
“It’s hard when you want to be in two places at one time,” Abby agreed.
Rose waited for her to say more, to give advice that would make her departure easier, but nothing broke the morning silence. “Aren’t you going to say anything else?” she finally asked.
Abby raised a brow. “What would you like me to say?”
Rose stared at her. “You always have a kernel of wisdom that makes things easier.”
Abby considered the statement. “What would you tell Felicia?”
Rose sighed, knowing what Abby was doing. “Could I just repeat whatever you tell me?”
Abby chuckled. “When I came out of the tunnel, I heard the two of you talking about whether you had gotten wiser in the last year. I assured you that you had. So, what would you tell Felicia?”
Rose shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve told her walking into the unknown is always difficult.” Abby waited for her to continue. As hard as it was to admit, Rose had nothing more to add.
“Nothing else?” Abby queried gently.
“I know I should have said more,” Rose admitted, “but I couldn’t seem to find words. I have too many questions and fears exploding in my own mind.”
“I see,” Abby murmured, but there was no judgement in her eyes. She turned to Carrie. “What would you say?”
Carrie met her eyes before she turned to gaze at the placid water. “I have been walking into the unknown all year. I suppose I would tell her that she will survive whatever is coming.”
“How encouraging,” Abby said drolly.
