Among the Fair Magnolias

by Tamera Alexander

  Emily thought she had cried every tear in her body, but they came again, flowing freely, as she prepared for dinner with her parents and Anna. She could not face them with the truth of Thomas’s betrayal and Leroy’s confession. Despair tugged at her heart. No hope for Leroy. Of course not. Foolish, foolish girl. He loved someone else. She had to do what he said. She had to let her dream go.

  And what of Thomas? If she told her parents that he was part of the Klan, surely they would agree that she should not marry him. Perhaps she wouldn’t hurt them, split the family now, if they realized his loyalties were with terrorism. Surely they wouldn’t wish her to marry a violent man.

  But how could she tell them? She did not trust herself even to be able to sit at the table and bring a fork to her mouth. Everything inside her had plummeted with Miss Lillian’s announcement about Thomas, and even further with Leroy’s confession. She regarded her splotchy face in the mirror; no amount of powder could cover her humiliation and fear. She sank to the floor, her dress fanning out around her.

  Anna knocked lightly on the door. “Ems? Are you all right? We’re waiting on you for dinner.”

  “I . . . I cannot come,” she said.

  Anna opened the door and, finding her sister in tears, knelt down beside her. “Poor dear. I know the murders on the Jackson plantation have upset you.” Her little sister took her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “And you are worried for the freedmen and the elections tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Anna. I am too distraught to come to the table. Please apologize to Mother and Father.”

  Anna gave her a long embrace. “Rest, my dear sister.” Before she left, she turned and said, “You cannot change history by yourself, Emily. Please don’t try.”

  Never had Emily felt so confused, so heartbroken and alone. The flood of emotions crippled her. She sat on the floor unable to move, having no idea what to do.

  And then, at last, she did.

  She rose to her knees and cried out, “O Lord! Show me. Should I betray Thomas to our freedmen, to my family?”

  Miss Lillian’s words came to her. “The Lord is not surprised by these circumstances, my dear Emily. Throughout all of time, families have been divided over the issue of human rights. Ask him for guidance. He will surely give it to you.”

  On her knees she prayed out loud. “Lord, I do ask you for guidance. I feel so alone and terrified. I don’t know what to do with this information. Nor with my heart.”

  She sat for an hour or more, her head bowed, her hands clasped, praying, crying, and listening for the Klan. At times she nodded off, only to reawaken with fear and heartbreak lodged deep inside.

  Long after the tears had dried on her face, leaving it rough and salty, she sat and listened to the silence. She had poured out her heart to the Lord. Miss Lillian always said it was easy enough to cry out to God, but much harder to wait to hear his answer.

  She waited.

  Two scripture verses drifted into her memory, the first from somewhere in the Book of Isaiah: Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

  She could not quote the second scripture reference, but she knew it occurred right when Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt and they were stuck—the Red Sea in front of them and the Egyptian army behind them. In that predicament, Moses had spoken these words: The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

  Hold your peace. Be silent. Wait.

  Peace.

  And then she remembered something else that Miss Lillian had told her: “His peace doesn’t feel like the peace we naturally get when it’s a lovely day and all seems well in the world. His peace comes in the midst of the hardest days. It’s something a bit mysterious and supernatural. Ask him for that peace, Emily.”

  “Give me that peace, Lord,” she whispered many hours later, as she climbed into bed and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Wednesday, November 4, 1868

  ALTHOUGH THE NEWSPAPER CLAIMED A HUGE REPUBLICAN victory with the election of General Ulysses S. Grant as the new president of the United States, Emily could only read the headlines with a sickening feeling of defeat as she remembered the scene from yesterday. Her father had forbidden her to go to the polls, but when Miss Lillian offered to accompany her and they promised to stay at a distance, he had acquiesced.

  And she had seen: only one black voter had shown up.

  Leroy.

  Emily had trembled as she watched him walk forward to cast his ballot while the Klan members paraded by the polls on foot, silent and menacing. Emily’s stomach cramped as she imagined Thomas hidden behind one of those flowing white sheets.

  Oh, Leroy.

  Oh, Thomas.

  She had held her breath as Leroy left the square unharmed and then wept with relief.

  And the truth came out this morning: Leroy’s was the sole vote cast for General Grant in Wilkes County. The only one! The Klan’s tactics had succeeded in terrifying the freedmen and even the white Republicans, with the result that only Georgia and one other state had not voted the majority for Ulysses S. Grant.

  She tried to acknowledge the positive side of the election. This was, after all, the first time the black man was allowed to vote in a presidential election, thanks to the First Reconstruction Act. In all, over seven hundred thousand black men had voted. Surely that was great progress, no matter the defeat in Georgia. And Grant had carried every state but two. A Republican who believed in equal rights for the freedmen was the new president.

  And the other news, the most important of all to Emily, was that the Klan had not visited their plantation on Monday night. Now that the election was over, surely there would be peace.

  Peace.

  Later that day, as Emily prepared to leave the schoolhouse, she found Leroy waiting on the porch. “May I speak with you, Miss Emily?”

  “Of course.” She felt her face on fire.

  “Thank you for coming to support me at the polls yesterday.”

  “Of course,” she whispered.

  Leroy stood, bracing his arms on the railing and looking out toward the barren fields. He spoke as if to the wind. “I am heading to Atlanta this weekend, and I aim to ask the young woman I told you about to marry me.”

  Emily let out a breath and leaned against the railing on the other side of the porch. She could think of nothing to say.

  “I wanted you to know.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Then, “What’s her name?”

  “Her name is Clara.”

  Clara.

  “And she has a little son, Jesse.”

  Emily’s cheeks warmed. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  Leroy turned slowly and looked Emily straight in the eyes. “I had ta tell you, ’cause you two will surely meet one day. And you will wonder . . . for she looks white as you. Her mother became pregnant by her slave owner and birthed Clara. And Clara became pregnant by the same slave owner and birthed Jesse. She looks white, but she ain’t. She’s a former slave like me.”

  Emily tried to process this information, but her mind felt foggy. At last she said, “I pray you will be very happy with Clara.”

  “Yes, I believe we will be.”

  Then she dared to speak the rest. “You can marry a Negro woman who looks white because her father is a horrid slave owner, and that is fine. But when a girl who happens to be completely white loves a black man, it is forbidden. It seems so unfair.”

  Leroy nodded slowly. “I agree. But our Lord ain’t never been tricked by that ol’ devil. He sneaks around and makes life unfair, but you’ll see, Emily. Our Lord will make good from it. I promise he will.”

  When her emotions had calmed enough, Emily took a deep breath. “Thank you, Leroy. May our Lord bless you.”

  As she walked back to the Big House, the sun slowly making its way west, Emily thought to herself, Leroy is marrying a white Ne
gro, and Thomas is a member of the Klan. There were two men that I loved, and I have lost them both. I am alone.

  The words throbbed in her head until only one remained. Alone, alone, alone.

  Fear thou not, for I am with thee.

  The thought whispered above the throbbing accusation, floating like a sweet memory in the evening chill. I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee.

  “Help me, Lord,” Emily whispered out loud, and then, as suddenly as the lightning had split the sky that fateful night in October, a feeling sizzled through her—the Holy Ghost’s presence. Then it enveloped her softly, so the dread and the sorrow and the fear fell away, and what remained was something deep and unfathomable.

  God’s peace.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SHE HAD WAITED AND PRAYED. SHE HAD KEPT SILENT. BUT now she knew, she knew as surely as she was to keep silent two days earlier that today she had to talk with Thomas. This conviction came amid the strange, strange peace that had captured her on the way back to the Big House. Now Emily’s heart beat with a holy excitement. She had to confront him with the truth and beg him to stop. Tonight the whole family was invited to the McGinnis mansion for dinner. Before the meal, she would talk to Thomas. She must.

  As the sun set across the naked cotton fields, she turned back to the house, walked inside, and began to ready herself for the dinner date. In a fog she pulled on her petticoat. Her fingers trembled as she buttoned the gold buttons on her deep-violet gown.

  When she came downstairs, she found Father sitting in the library. She tried to keep her voice calm, tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Father, would you mind terribly if I rode Brandy to the McGinnises’ and met the rest of you there?”

  He looked up from his paper. “My dear, you look stunning.”

  “Father, please answer my question.”

  “It will be dark soon.”

  “Not for another thirty minutes. Plenty of time for me to get to the plantation, and I’ll have their stable boy bed down Brandy for the night. I can ride back in the buggy with you and Mother and Anna.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “Please, Father. I’ve been so pent up over the election. I could use the fresh air.”

  “Go on, my child.” Then he mumbled, “I can’t imagine womenfolk taking to horseback in their dinner finery! Only you, dear rebellious Emily.” But he gave her a halfhearted smile.

  Emily hurried to the barn and tacked up Brandy while Willum, the stable boy, stared after her, offering, “Please let me help you, Miss Emily.”

  She was in too big a hurry. Hurry! Was it the Holy Ghost or simply holy fear that propelled her to the McGinnis plantation, covering the five miles that separated the two plantations in lightning speed? She arrived completely out of breath, her dress crumpled, her ringlets clinging limply to her face. She dismounted and led Brandy into the McGinnises’ stable and through the hallway, looking for Freddy, their stable boy.

  That’s when she saw it—Trooper’s empty stall.

  Emily stifled a cry. Where had Thomas gone? She had to talk to him.

  Leaving Brandy with Freddy, she hurried to the McGinnis mansion and knocked on the door.

  Lissy, the McGinnises’ kitchen maid, answered. “Why, Miss Emily! Are you all right? You done look like you’s seen a ghost!”

  “Is Lieutenant Thomas at home? I must see him at once.”

  Lissy’s eyebrows arched even higher, and a look of fear passed across her face. “I be thinking Lieutenant Thomas done left the plantation awhile ago.”

  “Are Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell ’em you’s here.”

  Emily tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart, tried to slow her breath.

  When Mrs. McGinnis appeared, she said, “Emily, my dear! We weren’t expecting you for another half hour.”

  “Yes, forgive me, Mrs. McGinnis, for arriving early, but I needed some fresh air, and Father said I could ride my mare over as long as I did so before dark. I had hoped to speak with Thomas before dinner.”

  The setting sun wove its beams between the columns on the porch of the McGinnis mansion, casting shadows that resembled ghosts on the wide expanse of lawn in front of the mansion.

  Mrs. McGinnis looked exasperated. “That boy! I’d like to have him tarred and feathered! He rode off about an hour ago. He said he had important business to attend to in town.” She frowned. “When I reminded him of our dinner date, he just smiled at me and said, ‘Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll be back for dinner—my business in town has precisely to do with tonight.’ ”

  Now Mrs. McGinnis’s eyes held a sparkle of mischief. “I believe he was checking with Mr. Dubois, the jeweler.” She raised her eyebrows and then winked at Emily.

  “The jeweler?” Emily felt the blood drain out of her face. From the conspiratorial look Mrs. McGinnis was giving her, there was no mistaking her meaning. Thomas was planning to ask her to marry him that night, in spite of his promise not to bring it up again.

  Surely not.

  Mrs. McGinnis seemed not to notice Emily’s discomfort. “But he warned us he might be late. He asked his father and me to keep the company ‘occupied and in good spirits’ until he got home.” Then Emily’s ashen face must have registered, for she said, “I’m sorry, Emily, are you well? You look quite distressed.”

  “No, I’m, I’m . . .” Emily struggled to make her lips form a smile. “I’m quite shocked! I don’t know what to say.” Think, Emily. Think!

  “Say nothing, dear. Why don’t you let Lissy help you freshen up, and I’ll have refreshments brought in.”

  “No!” she said too quickly. Then, “I . . . If what you are implying is true, well . . .” She gave her best giggle. “Well, I want to meet Thomas alone.”

  Mrs. McGinnis nodded. “Of course you do. We’ll give you plenty of time alone tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I can wait. Let me ride out to meet him!” Slow down, Emily. You have got to make this believable. “Oh, I’m dizzy with it, Mrs. McGinnis. Please forgive me. I feel I must see him first.” She spun around and hugged her arms around herself, trying to sound like a girl in love. “Please assure my family that I have ridden out to join Thomas—so they won’t worry.”

  “But, dear, it’s dark. Please wait here. He won’t be long now, I’m sure.”

  “It’s not far into town. I’m sure I’ll meet him before I’ve gone even a little way. Please understand. This is important to me.”

  Mrs. McGinnis was shaking her head. “You two will make a fine pair—both of you lovesick and impetuous.” But she was smiling.

  Emily clutched her stomach as she fled toward the barn. If only Mrs. McGinnis knew. If only they all knew.

  She arrived at the stable out of breath. “Miss Emily! What’s the matter?” Freddy asked.

  “I need to take Brandy. I must go to town to meet Lieutenant McGinnis.” When the boy didn’t move, she added, “Don’t worry, Freddy. Mrs. McGinnis knows I’m going. Please help me get Brandy ready.”

  Freddy nodded, looking confused, retrieved Brandy’s tack, and went into the stall. The mare snorted her disapproval at having been taken from her hay as Freddy led her into the hallway. He bridled her and cinched the girth and then brought the stepladder and helped Emily remount.

  “Thank you, Freddy.”

  She glanced back at Trooper’s empty stall. Then she saw outside the stable that Father, Mother, and Anna had just arrived and were climbing out of the carriage. Before they could speak, Emily explained. “Thomas is coming back from town. I’m riding out to meet him!”

  Father’s face registered guarded surprise, and Mother’s eyebrows rose. Anna shot her a questioning look.

  Again Emily forced a silly giggle. “Don’t worry, it’s for a good reason. Ask Mrs. McGinnis. I’m sure you’ll approve! We’ll both be back soon.” And she spurred Brandy into a canter.

  In the short amount of time she’d been at the McGinnises’ home, the sun h
ad slipped away. Dusk grew thick and then darkness swallowed up the road. In a blur Emily rode back in the direction she had come from, toward her home. The way to town veered off on a road a half mile before the Derracott plantation.

  Her mind was racing. What could she say to Thomas? How to confront him?

  She had just arrived at the V in the road and taken the one leading away from her home, expecting at any moment to see Thomas loping toward her on Trooper.

  Then she did see him, but he was not alone. Brandy reared and whinnied as a mob of white-sheeted riders came toward them, fiery torches lighting up the dark, and in the lead, a dappled horse whose flaxen mane shone like the moon against the pitch-black backdrop.

  The Klan! Racing toward her home.

  Fighting to stay on Brandy’s back, Emily mouthed an astonished Thomas as the horses with their ghostlike riders rushed past in a dazzling blur of fire and white.

  Once again she had been wrong. Thomas didn’t go into town to meet a jeweler and pick up my wedding ring. He must have invited us to his home to make sure we would be absent when the Klan attacked the plantation. Emily was shaking so hard she could not gain control of the mare, who danced wildly, throwing her head in the air and rearing again. At last she pulled Brandy to a halt and turned her in the direction of the mob. She sat on the horse, staring as the eerie glow gradually disappeared. She listened to her labored breathing, matching that of Brandy’s. At last she recovered enough to spur Brandy forward again.

  She had barely crossed the entrance to the plantation when once again she spied lighted torches far ahead. Brandy danced on pins and needles, whinnying loudly in response to the other horses’ whinnies far in the distance—down toward the freedmen’s cabins.

  Emily galloped past the Big House, past the schoolroom and the little church, pulling Brandy to a halt as she watched at least thirty, perhaps forty, hooded men on horses surrounding the freedmen’s cabins. And in the lead, a dappled gray horse with a flaxen mane and tail.