Spring Will Come

by Ginny Dye

  “I promise,” Carrie agreed instantly, searching her father’s eyes. There was still a shadow of hurt lingering, but she knew it would be okay. “How long have you known?”

  “I’ve known you were hiding something from me for quite a long time. As far as what it was - about a week. One of my colleagues saw you going down there. I made some discreet inquiries and found out what you were doing.”

  Carrie sighed. She should have known someone would see her. “I’m afraid you may hear about it from someone else.” Haltingly, she told him what had happened the night before. Her father’s face whitened.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be there?” was all he said when she finished.

  “I have to, Father. I’m all those people have. It may not be much, but I’m making a difference.”

  Thomas studied her for a long minute. Then he got up and walked to his bureau. “If you’re going to frequent that part of town at night, I want you to take this with you.” He reached in the bureau and pulled out a pistol.

  Carrie was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “I couldn’t take that,” she cried. She saw the results of gunshot wounds every day. The very sight of the pistol made her feel sick.

  Thomas walked over to her and pressed it in her hand. “If you’re going to go into an area most men wouldn’t think about going into, you’re at least going to go armed,” he said sternly then paused. “I may have to acknowledge my daughter is a grown woman with the freedom to make foolish decisions, but that does not mean I have to sit idly by and do nothing while she tries to get herself killed. You’re a good shot. I know you can handle a gun.” His voice caught. “Do this for me, Carrie. Please.”

  Carrie gazed into his eyes and saw loving desperation. Slowly she nodded and reached for the gun.

  Carrie was laughing, running through tall grass dotted with wildflowers. Her dress flowed around her as she spun, her arms lifted in wild abandon. Suddenly, she turned. “Catch me if you can,” she called gaily. Then she ran, moving faster and faster away from him. All Robert could do was watch her fade into the distance, her laughter taunting his inability to catch her. Then she disappeared. Only her laugh floated back on the breeze.

  Robert jolted awake, sweat streaming down his face even though the cabin was still gripped with an early morning chill. Burying his face into his pillow to stifle his groan, Robert tried to gain control of his trembling hands. The nightmares had become a constant reality, tormenting both his waking and sleeping hours. The situations varied, but they always mocked and taunted his helplessness.

  “You all right, Robert?”

  Robert’s head shot up. He thought everyone was still asleep.

  Polly rose from her chair next to a fresh, crackling fire and moved over to put a cool hand on his forehead. “You burning up!” she exclaimed. “You sick again, boy?”

  Robert shook his head wordlessly.

  Polly lit a lantern, carried it close to the bed, and hung it on a hook above his head. She gazed at him for several moments. “You been having them bad dreams again,” she stated.

  Robert stared at her. How had she known?

  Polly read the question in his eyes. “I sits up at night lots of times. Be the only quiet time I has to myself. I gots to have quiet to think. I sees you thrashin’ round in that bed. Don’t you think I knows you gots lots of demons to fight after them battles and finding out you be paralyzed?”

  Robert was comforted by her understanding. “I’m awful thirsty.”

  “I reckon you is. You probably done sweated out everythin’ you had last night.” Polly made a clucking noise then quickly filled a water pitcher.

  Robert drank several glasses before his thirst was quenched. “Thank you.”

  Polly nodded complacently. “I figure we works on your legs again today.”

  Robert scowled. “It’s not doing any good, Polly. I know it puts a strain on your family. Why don’t we just give it up? Just call the army and let them know you’ve got a Rebel soldier in your house. They’ll take me off your hands,” he said bitterly. He didn’t know why they hadn’t done it weeks before.

  “What if I don’t want you off my hands?” Polly asked serenely. “Nope. I reckon you supposed to be here. That’s what I’s keep hearing when I’s get quiet enough to listen.”

  “Listen to what?” Robert growled.

  “Why, listen to the Lord, boy. Who else be tellin’ me such a hare-brained thing?” Polly laughed softly. Then her voice grew firm. “And I don’t want to hear nothing else about us not working with your legs. Ain’t no reason to believe you ain’t gonna walk again someday. Auntie JoBelle say she’s see it happen before. You just got to keep believin’ boy.”

  Robert had lost his ability to believe long ago. Any ideas he had of a loving God had evaporated when he realized he was paralyzed. The only thing that kept him from laughing when he thought about God healing his legs was respect for Polly. He didn’t want to make fun of her beliefs. Why hurt the kind-hearted woman?

  “Yep. We keep right on putting hot rags on your legs and making them move. One of these days I reckon they move on they own.”

  “What makes you believe in God?” Robert asked suddenly then frowned. He hadn’t meant to ask her that. He had no interest in even talking about God, but it was too late to retract the question.

  Polly looked at him thoughtfully for several minutes then reached over to pull up a chair. “I wants to tell you a story, Robert.” She stopped, gazing off into the distance as if she was looking at something then turned back to him. “I’s born on a rice plantation off the coast of South Carolina. My mama and daddy fine people - love me somethin’ fierce. They got treated real good. Then our owner run up onto some hard times. Had to sell all his slaves. We got put on the auction block one at a time. I’s only five years old when I got bought by a fella in Virginia. Ain’t never see none of my family again.” She paused, gathering her thoughts.

  Robert watched her closely. Maybe it was because Polly had been so good to him that he could feel some of the hurt and pain radiating from her eyes. It was a new sensation for him. His mind darted to all the black families he had separated on the auction block. For the first time, he felt a twinge of discomfort.

  “I’s a mighty scared five year old when I got took to that plantation in Virginia. My owner be a hard man. He beat me. His kids beat me. Why, even his wife beat me if I didn’t move fast enough for her. My heart got real hard - real quick. There been a powerful lot of hate in me.” She shook her head as if she were trying to shake away the memories. “A lot of years went by. The hating in my heart grew stronger. Them kids who beat me grew up. One of them had a baby.” Her voice faltered. “I decide one day I’s gonna kill that baby. Just as a way to let loose some of the hate.”

  Robert gaped at her. He couldn’t believe Polly was telling such a story. He had seen daily evidence of her caring and gentleness.

  “I had that baby to take care of all the time. One day I puts a pillow over her face. I’s plannin’ on suffocating her. That baby squawking and flailing something awful.” Now her voice broke, and her eyes filled with tears. “That’s when the voice stopped me.”

  “The voice?” Robert was completely caught up in the story.

  “Yep. There been a voice. Clear as my own. Told me to stop. Say I didn’t want to do that.” She paused, remembering. “I looked around to find out who be talkin’ to me, but I’s all alone.”

  “Did you stop?”

  “Course I stop. You ain’t never hear a voice like that one. You didn’t dare do what it tell you not to. It been a strong voice - a stern one...” She paused. “And fill with the most love you could ever imagine... I take the pillow off that baby’s head and cried and cried. Once I done crying, my hate gone.” Polly shook her head. “But what I done, scared me somethin’ awful. I decide right then and there I had to escape ‘fore I done something else.”

  Robert caught himself leaning forward so as not to miss a single word
. “Go on,” he urged.

  Polly smiled. “It wadn’t too much longer before I just take off. All by myself. Didn’t tell nobody where I going. Didn’t really know myself. I reckon I’s about nineteen at the time. You lose track when the years spin by so fast.” She paused. “My owner sent all kinds of slave hunters after me. Lots of times the dogs come so near I could hear them panting. They didn’t never find me,” she said in amazement. “Still - to this day - when I think about it I knows God was covering me up with some kind of magic blanket. He just wadn’t figuring on me going back into slavery. I must’ve borne all the misery he was gonna allow.”

  Pictures of all the times Robert had gone after escaping slaves filled his mind. Especially vivid in his mind was the picture of the little boy he had killed in retribution for other slaves who had escaped. He cringed then stiffened as a surge of anger shot through him. They were his people. He could do with them what he wanted. Couldn’t he? Anger mixed with confusion as he watched Polly’s sweet expression.

  “You done asked me what make me believe in God. I’s believe in God every time I looks at my husband and children. They be sure enough miracles. I’s never thought I’d live long enough to have any of that. I believes in God every time I remember where I come from. It sure enough be a miracle I’s still alive. And lately, I’s found me a new reason to believe in God.”

  She paused so long, Robert felt compelled to ask, “What’s that?”

  The look she turned on him was direct yet compassionate. “I believes in God every time I look at you because I don’t hate you,” she said flatly. “I should you know. I knows you done own slaves back in the South. I don’t know whether you treats them good or bad, but I knows you own them. That should be enough to make me hate you. But I’s don’t. I reckon that’s a pretty big miracle.”

  A sudden stirring upstairs made Polly turn back toward the fire. “I gots me some cooking to do, Robert. I just let you stew for a while.”

  Robert lay back against his pillow, pondering the things Polly had told him. Unbidden, words he had said to Carrie swam into his mind. “Never again will I allow myself to be so caught up in the events of my world and my activities that I lose contact with my own heart and mind. All my achievements mean nothing if I lose myself in the process.” His own thoughts made him uncomfortable. Was he indeed losing himself? Had he already? Robert was relieved when Amber slipped down the ladder.

  Just as she did every morning, she skipped to the side of his bed. “How you doin’, Robert?” She gazed at him for a moment. “Your eyes look real funny. How come?”

  “I don’t know,” Robert replied, forcing a chuckle. Could even a six-year-old little girl see into his heart and know how troubled he was? “Are you going to help your mama finish your new dress today?”

  A bright smile exploded on Amber’s face. “I sure is. Then we be goin’ out into the woods and search for some of them red pokeberries. They make the purtiest red dye you ever see. My Christmas dress going to be the most beautiful one you ever see.”

  Robert smiled at Amber’s joy while his heart caught again with familiar pain. How he wished he could be spending Christmas with Carrie. He had been so sure they would be married by now, sharing their first real Christmas together. Fiercely, he shoved the thoughts aside. What if he was home? There was no way he would let Carrie marry a paralyzed man. She was too alive. Too full of life. He would never ask that of her. He dimly registered Amber’s talking again.

  “...ever been out to get pokeberries?”

  Robert shook his head, pulling his thoughts back from Carrie.

  “Mr. Robert, will you let me read to you?” Amber jumped quickly to a new subject.

  Robert shot a glance at Polly, who merely shrugged and turned back to the fire.

  “I’d like that,” Robert said simply. Amber had completely captured his heart in the last month and a half. So far she had been warm and friendly, but still she had kept her distance.

  “I’ll get my book,” she exclaimed then turned to disappear up the ladder to the loft. Seconds later she reappeared, her newest book clutched under her arm. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she clambered up into bed beside him and settled down next to Robert’s side. “I’ll read now,” she announced then flipped through the pages until she found her place.

  Bemused, Robert stared down at her tousled pigtails. A rush of warmth flooded through him. He glanced up to see Polly watching them, an inscrutable look on her face.

  “You got to look at the pictures!” Amber commanded.

  Robert obeyed instantly. He barely noticed when the rest of the family came down for breakfast. He was too busy listening to Amber.

  Breakfast had been cleared from the table before Polly put the first pot of water on to heat. Robert’s lips tightened as he watched.

  Amber materialized beside her. “Can I help, Mama? I can do it, you know. I done been watching you put them ‘presses on. It ain’t so hard.”

  Polly smiled. “Theys called compresses, Amber. And yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I reckon you can help. If it be all right with Robert.”

  “Oh, Robert loves me. He likes me helping,” Amber said confidently. “Ain’t that right, Robert?”

  Robert smiled, the first genuine smile he had smiled since waking up. “That’s right, Amber.” The wonder of it exploded in his heart. How could he love a little black girl when for so many years blacks had been nothing but animals - mere possessions - to him? He looked up to see Polly gazing at him with that inscrutable expression again. Robert dropped his eyes to the patchwork quilt covering him. His feelings were too new to understand yet.

  Amber skipped over and pulled back the cover. “We gonna make you walk again, Robert,” she said brightly. “Then I can show you my secret place down by the river.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I ain’t even ever took my brother there,” she confided.

  Robert smiled back as a rush of pain seared his heart. My secret place down by the river. Pictures of Carrie and the day they had shared in her secret place flew into his mind. He managed to stifle a groan as his fists clenched in frustration.

  “I say somethin’ wrong?” Amber asked anxiously, her eyes narrowed with confusion.

  Robert shook his head quickly and scooped her up in the bed beside him. “Of course not! I have someone else who shared their special place with me before. I just miss her, that’s all.”

  Amber raised her hand to his cheek, her tiny face warm with innocent wisdom. “Ain’t you glad you gots somebody to miss?” she said simply. “I reckon love be a wonderful thing.”

  Robert lay back, a little stunned. He had not once thought about being glad he missed Carrie. Suddenly he saw the truth in what Amber was saying. At least he loved someone enough to miss them. At least there was someone in his life who was so hard to be away from. His mind flew to the many soldiers he had watched die, merely shaking their heads when he’d asked if there was someone they wanted to have a message sent to. What an awful thing that must be.

  “I bet she be missing you somethin’ fierce, too. I reckon we ought to let her know where you be,” Amber said, turning to her mama. “You gonna let her know?”

  Polly shook her head, her kind eyes troubled. Her words were directed to Robert. “Me and Gabe done talked about that. I hear you call Carrie’s name enough in your sleep to know how much you love her. There just ain’t no way to get a message to her. Least not a way we knows about.”

  “I know,” Robert said slowly. Amber’s words had opened his eyes for the first time to the pain and fear Carrie must be feeling. Even though he wouldn’t ask her to marry him now, he couldn’t bear to think of her worrying about him. Did she think he was dead? Had whoever rescued him managed to get word to her? He knew it was highly unlikely. A surge of determination shot through him. “We’d better work on my legs. I can’t lie here for the rest of my life.”

  Polly grinned, approval lighting her face. “Now you talkin’, boy!”

  Robert
watched as Polly dipped cloth into the steaming hot water, pulled it out with a stick, and then carefully draped them over his legs. It took several minutes to cover his legs completely. When the cloths were cool again, Amber pulled them off and handed them back to her mama, humming quietly the whole time. Robert strained to feel some movement in his legs and battled frustration as they lay motionless.

  Finally Polly stepped back. “I reckon theys warm enough.” She picked his right leg up, bending it back and forth at the knee then stretching it out full length, maintaining a constant up and down motion. “You gots to ‘magine you be movin’ them by yourself,” Polly commanded. “That’s what Auntie JoBelle say.”

  Robert obeyed, a picture of Carrie’s worried face pushing him on. For the first time since he’d woken up, he was more concerned about someone else than he was about himself. He still had serious doubts this regimen would work, but he had nothing else to try.

  Amber remained firmly planted by his side, smiling brightly. Every now and again she would reach out to squeeze his hand, all the while humming the same tune over and over.

  “What are you humming?” Robert finally asked. Amber answered him by breaking into song, the catchy tune reverberating through the cabin.

  No more auction block for me,

  No more, no more!

  No more auction block for me,

  Many thousands gone.

  No more peck of corn for me,

  No more, no more!

  No more peck of corn for me,

  Many thousands gone.

  No more driver’s lash for me,

  No more, no more!

  No more driver’s lash for me,

  Many thousands gone.

  Her sweet soprano faded away then she grinned up at him again. “Some people who come through ‘fore you got here taught it to me. Ain’t it a nice song?”