Spring Will Come

by Ginny Dye

  A long silence fell on the room. Opal was the first to break it. “I reckon I know what you mean. You remember Gilbert Hunt, that man who saved so many white folks during the theater fire so many years back?”

  Carrie nodded. “Miles told me about him one day when we were in Richmond. He was a slave, but he finally was able to buy his freedom. Doesn’t he own a blacksmith shop down in the black part of the city?”

  “Yep. But that ain’t all he owns. That black man owns slaves.”

  “A black man owns slaves?” Janie gasped. “How can he do that?”

  “I reckon it’s like what Sam said. He had the chance to have power over someone, and he took it. I’ve heard about several black people who own slaves. I couldn’t believe it at first. Them people had come out of slavery theyselves. They knew how bad it was. They worked hard to buy they own freedom - or they folks before them did.” Opal paused. “I don’t reckon owning slaves is a white thing. I reckon it’s a power thing. People wants someone else to make life easier for them - even if it means stealing someone’s freedom.” She shook her head. “Anyway, it’s made it a lot easier for me not to hate white folks. I figure if black people had been the first ones to America, they might have brought white people over as slaves.”

  Susie passed out the pieces of pie. Everyone was silent as they contemplated the complexities of humanity. The wintry wind continued to batter the house and brought with it a fresh white blanket of snow.

  Carrie was up early the next morning. The snow clouds had once more been driven north. She wrapped a thick bathrobe over her gown, added several fresh logs to the fire, and stepped over to the window. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, sucking her breath in sharply.

  “Is something wrong?” Janie asked anxiously.

  “Come look,” Carrie invited. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen such a gorgeous sunrise. Great purple and orange clouds, arranged in fluffy waves, spread across the entire sky. A fresh blanket of snow caught the splendid colors and sent them shooting back to the sky. Great white banks covered everything; only the dark green tops of the boxwoods revealed that anything lay beneath. Huge dollops of snow clung to the branches of the large cedars guarding the side of the house and caused the tender branches to bend almost all the way to the ground.

  “It’s beautiful,” Janie whispered in an awestruck voice.

  The two friends stood side by side until the magnificent colors had faded to a muted pink, and blue snatches began to gain dominion of the sky.

  “You’re shivering,” Carrie said suddenly.

  Janie laughed. “I guess so. I didn’t put my bathrobe on.” She turned and dove for her bed.

  Carrie quickly laid more logs on the fire. Soon the room took on pleasant warmth.

  “What are you doing?” Janie asked a few minutes later, her covers pulled tightly under her chin.

  Carrie glanced over and laughed. “You look like a chipmunk peeking out of its burrow.”

  “I’m a warm chipmunk,” Janie retorted. “Why are you pulling all those clothes out of your closet?”

  “I want to be warm when I go riding.”

  Janie gasped. “You’re going riding? Horseback riding? In this weather? Are you crazy?”

  “I guess the answer is yes to all questions,” Carrie said calmly. “I will hardly freeze to death.” Suddenly she stopped pulling clothes out of the closet. “I’m going to make sure I don’t freeze to death,” she said firmly. “I’ll be right back.” Janie was still staring at her over the edge of her covers when she dashed out of the room. Soon she was back, her arms loaded with warm clothing.

  “Those look like your father’s clothes,” Janie observed.

  “They are.” She undressed and began to pull on several layers.

  “You’re going to wear your father’s clothes?”

  Carrie grinned at the long-suffering tone in Janie’s voice. It was not a tone of disapproval, more one of resignation. “I learned the night I escaped the plantation that riding in men’s clothing is much more comfortable than riding in women’s. And I’m quite sure it will be warmer.”

  Janie stuck one arm out of the covers. Once she was convinced the room had warmed up, she jumped out of bed and moved close to the fire. “As long as you’re not planning on wearing them to the hospital.”

  Carrie laughed. “I’m not ready to create that much of a scene.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Carrie was suddenly reluctant to share her secret. It’s not that Janie wasn’t a close enough friend to someday take to her special place. It was just that today she needed to be alone. She didn’t know how to answer her question. “I just need to get outside,” she finally said, knowing from the look on Janie’s face that her friend was aware she was hiding something. It wasn’t a hurt look, however. It was simply an expression of understanding acceptance.

  Impulsively, she gave Janie a big hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Janie responded. Then she asked, “Are you sure you won’t get lost in all this snow?”

  “I know this plantation like the back of my hand. I could never get lost.” Carrie said reassuringly. “I’ll be back before lunch.”

  Max twisted his head and looked at Carrie curiously when she heaved a saddle onto the big bay gelding’s back. “I know, fella. You’re not used to being ridden. But I promise it’s a lot easier than pulling that carriage. I think you might actually have fun today.” She laughed when the horse continued to stare at her. “Look, you’re all I have. All my father’s horses were taken by the Union army, and Granite is gone.” Sudden tears blurred her vision as she thought of Granite. Quickly she brushed them away. Remembering wouldn’t do any good. Her horse was gone. Robert was gone. It was time to face it.

  That was the purpose of her trip to her special place. She was quite certain that only there - in the shelter of her secret haven - would she have the courage to do what she needed to do.

  It took her only a few minutes to have Max ready. She smiled as she remembered the look on Spencer’s face when she’d told him she was going for a ride. He obviously thought she was crazy but had bitten his tongue to keep quiet. Sam had merely chuckled and told her to eat plenty before she left. He was used to her independence.

  Carrie sighed in delight as she settled into the saddle. With the exception of the night of her escape, she had always ridden sidesaddle. That one experience had convinced her those days were over – unladylike or not. Riding astride was so much more comfortable and enabled her to feel so much more in rhythm with the horse. Resolutely she pushed away the images of Granite that kept rising up to haunt her. Those days were over. She needed to harden her heart and press on to the future.

  “Let’s go, Max.”

  Max snorted and pranced forward, obviously delighted not to have a carriage behind him. He pawed at the snow and caused great sprays of white to float into the air; then he snorted and shook his head.

  “I know it’s fun, but we’ll get where we’re going a lot faster if you’ll quit playing,” Carrie ordered with a laugh. She pushed him forward firmly. Max shook his head again then settled into a ground-eating walk, the snow reaching just a few inches short of his knees. Soon the plantation house was out of sight, swallowed by the white snow.

  Carrie gazed around, reveling in the fresh sense of freedom invading her body. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed loudly. Great wisps of her breath shot from her mouth as her laugh flew across the fields. A rabbit bounding through the snow stopped long enough to give her a curious look then disappeared into its hole. Brilliant red cardinals and noble-looking blue jays lent the only flashes of color to the endless landscape of white and gray. A brilliant sun reflected diamonds of light off the snow, almost blinding her, while also giving an incredible sense of clarity to the scene.

  Carrie was glad - so glad she had come! She could feel the horrors of the hospital melting away, swallowed by the vastness of God’s magnificent creation. She was impatient to get to he
r special place, but she wouldn’t push Max. He had a long way to go through deep snow.

  Over an hour later, Carrie found the break in the woods she was looking for. There was no trail. She didn’t need one. Carefully, she guided Max through the maze of trees, allowing him to go slowly so he wouldn’t trip over a hidden log. Finally she broke out into the clearing. Thankful for her father’s tall boots, she slipped out of the saddle, handed Max a couple of carrots, looped his reins over a low lying branch, and then turned to stare out at the river. Great tears rose in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  “I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m here.” Carrie had wondered many times whether she would ever be able to return to her special place. Slowly she walked toward the river, brushed a thick layer of snow off her boulder, and settled down. Warm tears continued to course down her cheeks.

  Suddenly she caught herself and wiped her tears away. “Fine way to develop a hard heart,” she said scornfully, taking a deep breath to regain control. She cupped her chin in her hand and gazed out at the river. The unusually cold winter had formed great chunks of ice. She could see them bobbing beyond the frozen shoreline with their creamy whiteness in stark contrast to the blue-gray water. Snow embraced the river, seeming to part just enough to allow the mighty river to continue on its course to the bay. The whole world was a study in white and gray.

  A commotion behind her caused her to turn quickly. Max had grown tired of standing still and was pawing, his giant hoof causing snow to fly all over the clearing. He had quite a satisfied expression when he finished. Then he bent his head and snorted in pleasure.

  “What did you find, boy?” Carrie’s curiosity made her stand and move over to look.

  Max wasn’t interested in waiting for her approval. Giving another snort of satisfaction, he reached down and tore off a thick mouthful of the green grass he had uncovered.

  Carrie stared at the grass in amazement. To be sure, it wasn’t the verdant green of summer, but it still held a definite tint of green. Somehow it had survived under its burden of snow, just waiting for spring to uncover it and set it free once more. Spring will come.

  Carrie frowned. Of course, spring would come. It did every year - no matter how hard the winter.

  Spring will come.

  The thought clung to her like a lifeline. Carrie watched thoughtfully as Max tore into the grass he had uncovered. When he had eaten all that was there, he started pawing again. Once he had unearthed more he settled down to eating again.

  Spring will come.

  Suddenly Carrie understood. No matter how long or hard the winter, new life was waiting just below the surface. Her decision to harden her heart had pronounced winter on her soul - on her very life. There could be no growth, no new life as long as she let the cold hardness of her heart block it out. Only by allowing God to melt it, to take away its protective covering, could she find the new life it was hiding.

  There is always life beneath the snow.

  Carrie saw it now. There would always be new life beyond the pain. But only if she allowed the new life to surface. Only if she let down the stone walls to let it in. The walls she was building to protect her heart were doing nothing but blocking out the new life God had to offer.

  Carrie bent down slowly and picked a blade of grass Max had missed then turned back to her boulder. Holding it tightly, she lifted it to her lips. “Oh God...” The groan of pain was at once both an expression of pain and a relinquishment of the walls. Tears poured from her eyes as she grasped the slender blade of grass.

  Memories of Robert - of all their special moments - roared through her mind. They brought the familiar sear of pain, but this time there was something different. The memories brought a healing. The hurt seemed to have become a cleansing fire, burning away the chaff that had choked her growth – that had choked the new life waiting just on the other side. The fire roared hotter as it swept over walls, fed by the breeze of new life.

  Finally the tears stopped. Carrie gave a final gulp then blew her nose. Carefully she slipped the tiny blade of grass into her pocket. Whenever she was tempted to hide from life behind walls, she would pull it out as a reminder. Her heart was suddenly light. All the same questions still remained. The pain still lurked on the horizon. But she would face them.

  Spring would come.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Are you sure that’s all you want to take?” Janie asked. “How in the world did you develop such a huge stock of herbs?”

  Carrie’s gaze swept the hundreds of bottles lining the basement shelves. “There wasn’t much else to do the long winter I spent here before I went to Richmond. I spent hours down here every day. Something was driving me to do it.”

  “And yet you’re only taking back that one bag?”

  Carrie held up the large bag she had stuffed full. “There’s really not room for any more,” she said regretfully. “I want to make sure I have some if someone in our house falls ill. Medicine is so hard to come by. I would take it all back if I could, but it just isn’t possible this trip. I plan on coming back when the roads improve enough to bring a wagon. This should at least get us through the winter.”

  She turned away from the shelves. “We’d better get going. I think Sam is right. There’s another snow storm on the way. Father will worry himself sick if we’re not back by tonight.”

  The goodbyes were brief but heartfelt. Sam, Opal, the kids, and the rest of the slaves down in the quarters stood on the porch and waved until they were out of sight.

  “What a wonderful place,” Janie said fervently. “I will miss it. I know we’re needed in Richmond, but I would love to stay here.”

  Carrie nodded thoughtfully. A few days ago she would have said the same thing. Now she was ready to face what Richmond held for her.

  “What happened that day?” Janie asked suddenly.

  Carrie smiled. She knew what day Janie was referring to. She groped for words to explain it. She knew Janie had been yearning to ask ever since she had returned from her special place.

  “I’m not trying to pry,” Janie said quickly. “It’s just that you seem so different.”

  “You’re not prying. I’m just not sure how to explain it.” Carrie paused. “You said the night we got here that hard times can either make or break a person. I was very close to allowing them to break me.” She stopped again. “I guess I’m just trying to grow up.”

  Janie nodded understandingly and reached for her hand beneath the thick layer of blankets Sam had tucked around them.

  The snow Sam had predicted was already several inches thick when Spencer finally drove the carriage into the barn. “I reckon I’ll be headed home now,” he said wearily. “Soon as I get Max here taken care of.”

  “Not until you’ve had some good hot food,” Carrie said firmly, trying to control her shivering. “You take care of Max. I’ll have May prepare you something to eat. Don’t head back into the storm until you’re warm and full.”

  “Thank you, Miss Carrie,” Spencer murmured, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll be in shortly.”

  Micah was waiting just inside the back door when Carrie and Janie entered, stomping their feet to rid them of the clinging snow. Carrie took one look at him and frowned. “What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.

  “There’s been an outbreak of smallpox, Miss Carrie,” he said soberly then hesitated. “There’s lots of people in the city who done got it.”

  Carrie’s heart caught. “My father?”

  “He’s real sick,” Micah admitted.

  “How long?” Carrie asked sharply, pushing aside thoughts of a hot bath.

  “Since the day after you left.”

  Carrie groaned. “What did the doctor say?”

  Micah shrugged. “He wanted your father to go into the hospital, but, of course, he refused. Said if there was no treatment he would rather take his chances at home.” He paused. “Is there really no treatment for smallpox?”

  “I’m afraid not, Micah. At
least not any commonly accepted treatment.” She turned to May. “May, please fix Spencer something hot to eat. He’s freezing and exhausted.” Then she turned to Micah. “I’m going up to check on my father. If you could fix some hot tea and bring it up, I would appreciate it.” She paused. “Please take water up for Janie to have a hot bath, as well.”

  “I’ll have it right there, Miss Carrie.”

  Then she turned to Janie who was opening her mouth to protest. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to be cold and tired. Go ahead and take a warm bath and get some rest. I’ll need you once you feel better.”

  “I’ll take a bath once I know I can’t do anything to help,” Janie said firmly.

  Carrie smiled, turned, and ran up the stairs. Smallpox! She knew too well the dreaded effects of the disease. The patient first developed a high fever and horrible body aches. Two to four days later a rash resembling thousands of small pimples would appear on the face before spreading to other parts of the body. During the next week, the pimples became larger and filled with pus until they finally scabbed over. The scabs would fall off in three to four weeks, leaving scars.

  Her father was awake when she entered the room. “Hello, Father,” she said gently, trying not to show any reaction to his flushed face already covered with the rash.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Thomas said weakly. “I’m sorry this isn’t much of a homecoming.”

  Carrie moved forward and laid her hand on his forehead. It was burning hot. Quickly she turned to Janie. “Please have Micah bring in buckets of snow. Then bring my bag of herbs to me.”

  She turned back to her father. “You can hardly run the government like this,” she teased.

  “Well, if you can give me a hard time, you must not be too afraid I’m going to die,” Thomas replied hopefully.

  “You will be miserable for several weeks, but you will be okay. Your fever is high, but you still have a spark in your eye. I’m glad you chose not to go the hospital. There is nothing they can do for you there, and you would merely have exposed yourself to even more infection. Home is the best place for you right now.”