The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  “Thank you,” Carrie said, tears falling freely now. “You’ve been such a good friend. You saved Rose and Moses. You brought me here to the hospital. I will always be grateful for having you in my life.”

  Pastor Anthony, able to only stare at her, slumped back against the pillow. Carrie had seen that same look many times.

  Carrie sprang for the door and opened it for Jeremy. “It’s time,” she said tenderly. “I’ll leave you alone with your father.”

  Jeremy grabbed her hand. “No. Please stay.”

  Carrie understood. Death could be such a scary thing. She nodded and settled down in the chair beside the bed. When Jeremy pulled one up beside her, she placed his father’s limp, cold hand in his own strong, tanned one. “Just be with him,” she whispered.

  Jeremy stared down at his father. “I love you so much. Thank you for the life you’ve given me. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” his voice broke off, clogged with tears.

  Pastor Anthony stared back, unable to speak, but all his love shining through his bright blue eyes. Long minutes passed, the only sound in the room the rattle of his labored breathing.

  Suddenly Pastor Anthony’s eyes cleared as he reached up to hold his son’s face. “I love you, Jeremy,” he said, his strong voice ringing through the room. “I am so proud of you and always will be.”

  Jeremy, hope springing forth in his eyes, gasped with wonder and looked at Carrie.

  Carrie shook her head sadly. She had seen this before; just before death some men had been so infused with God’s spirit they were able to say what was most important.

  “I love you, too!” Jeremy cried.

  Pastor Anthony smiled and relaxed back against the pillows. Suddenly he opened his eyes again, a light of wonder shining in them, and raised his arms to the ceiling. “They’ve come for me,” he whispered.

  He lay back and closed his eyes, peace settling on his face like the calm on a stormy sea.

  Jeremy looked at her wildly. “Is he sleeping?”

  “He’s gone,” Carrie said softly.

  Jeremy moaned and put his head on his father’s chest. “Goodbye,” he whispered.

  Carrie slipped out of the room to give him some privacy, nodded to her father to let him know it was over, and then stepped out onto the porch. Almost one hundred faces stared up at her.

  “You can go home now,” she said gently. “Pastor Anthony is with God.”

  Silence greeted her announcement, and then, one by one, mourners faded away into the darkness, silently slipping back to their homes. These were people accustomed to death and grief.

  Carrie stared off toward Petersburg as Spencer drove her, Janie, and Thomas through the dusty streets to attend Pastor Anthony’s funeral, thinking of all the men who had died during the war. She knew that most soldiers who died on the field would never rest in their family plots; usually casualties were buried where they fell. Alone.

  The rate of wounded soldiers dying in the city had altered the funeral process from a carefully followed ceremony to something much less elaborate. Usually a handful of Confederate women - determined not to let even one of their “boys” be buried alone - attended the funerals, watched them be laid to rest, and then wrote letters home to the families.

  Pastor Anthony’s congregation was determined their beloved leader would leave them with the love and respect he deserved. When Carrie filed in with Janie and her father, over two hundred people already filled every nook and cranny of the small church: children sat on laps, people lined the walls.

  What amazed Carrie was how many white faces were interspersed among the black ones. The sight filled her with hope. She and Pastor Anthony had often talked about what it would take to bring the two races together.

  “He would be pleased to know his death brought all these people here,” she murmured.

  Thomas nodded. “Many of Jeremy’s colleagues are here to show their respect. Many didn’t know his father; but they know him and want to give their support.”

  Thankfully, this early September day still carried the coolness that had enveloped the city the night before. No one doubted an Indian summer would heat things up again, but they were grateful the tiny church was not as stifling as it usually was in summer.

  The service began when Pastor Marcus George, a white pastor from a small Richmond church and also a longtime friend of Pastor Anthony, stepped to the podium. “We will do things a little differently,” he said, smiling down at the earnest faces staring up at him. “A few weeks ago, I talked with Pastor Anthony about his service. He knew he didn’t have much time left.”

  Carrie and Janie exchanged looks and smiled; neither was surprised today’s funeral would follow no one’s expectations. One reason their friend had made such a difference was that he had never cared what others thought; his only goal was to serve God.

  “Your pastor requested I let all of you speak,” Pastor George continued. “Oh, he knew I could be eloquent,” he said with a smile, “but he wanted all of you to share your memories. He plans on smiling as he listens.”

  The congregation gasped and looked upward as if they expected to see Pastor Anthony’s kind eyes gazing down at them.

  “Who would like to begin?” Pastor George asked as he stepped back from the podium.

  A young mother, two small children in tow, stood up first. “Pastor Anthony be like a father to me. My husband died right after my youngest be born, and I lost a daughter when the Tredegar Iron Works exploded. I sho nuff didn’t see any reason for living.” She paused and looked toward Jeremy. “Your daddy be the finest man I know. He come to see me ‘most every day and prayed for me. He made sure I had food, and he got other church folks to plant me a garden. He knew I didn’t have nothin’ in me to fight with.”

  The church was silent as she told her story.

  “The day finally come – just like he said it would – when I felt a mite better. I realized I still had me two fine young’uns to love and I best get around to doin’ it.” She gazed around the room. “I’m gonna miss Pastor Anthony a powerful lot, but I know he be in a good place now. I figure God done have real special places in heaven for people like him.”

  One by one, people stood and told their stories of Pastor Anthony’s love and care. Tears flowed freely and love wrapped the church in its embrace.

  Carrie smiled when a lanky man stood.

  “My name be Angus. I didn’t think too much about God for a right long time. Not till I got beat up by a bunch of white men.” He paused and stared right at Carrie. “I reckon I would have died – me and the other fellas – if Pastor Anthony hadn’t started that hospital, and if Miss Carrie and Miss Janie hadn’t come down here to help us.”

  Everyone in the church turned to smile at Carrie and Janie.

  “I was beat up real bad. Both arms was broke, most of my ribs was caved in, and Miss Carrie had to put a whole lot of stitches in to put me back together.” He took a deep breath. “I reckon I wanted to die, but Pastor Anthony convinced me I had a reason to live. Miss Carrie fixed my body, but Pastor Anthony fixed my soul.” Nodding solemnly, he sat back down.

  Carrie stood and gazed around the room. “I have lost a very special friend,” she said. “All of you have lost your pastor… your spiritual leader. I know you feel lost right now, but Pastor Anthony has given you what you need to move forward. He taught you about God, but he also taught you how to take care of each other. None of us live alone in this world. He taught us how to come together as a family. He taught you to grow gardens for each other. He taught you to care for each other in the hospital. He taught you to teach your children what he taught you.”

  She stopped and smiled at all the intense faces. “Pastor Anthony taught you to love. That will never die. His greatest legacy – his greatest hope – is that when he was gone you would continue to love one another.”

  She paused again and thought about the conversations they had had in the last few weeks. “Pastor Anthony was ready,” she said
strongly. “His only regrets were that he had to leave Jeremy and all of you. He loved you all so much,” she said softly, and then, her eyes shining, she glanced toward the ceiling.

  “Pastor Anthony was ready to go home. He told me once that when he died he thought God would reach down to give him a big hug. He planned to raise both his arms and give God a hug right back, and then God would take him home.”

  She heard Jeremy’s gasp and met his eyes across the church, knowing both of them were remembering Pastor Anthony’s final moments when he raised both arms and whispered, “He’s come for me...”

  “When he knew there was nothing that could be done to save him, he was so excited to go home to be with God. He’s always felt that way – that being here on earth was being away from his true home. He determined to live his life the best he could, but he’s always longed for his true home. He could hardly wait to see God.” She smiled as tears streamed down her face. “His prayers every day for the last few weeks have been for all of you. He loved you all so much.”

  Silence enveloped the church when she sat down.

  Jeremy was the last to stand. “Thank you, Carrie. It helps to think of my father smiling with God.” He turned to the congregation. “It was just as my father wanted it to be,” he told them. “At the end, with a glorious smile on his face, he raised both his arms toward heaven and whispered, ‘They’ve come for me.’”

  “I know my father is happy,” he said with a smile. “Now it’s up to all of us to live our best lives. Your decision to do that will be the best thing you could possibly do for my father.” He took a deep breath and blinked back his tears. “I will do the same thing. I had the best father in the world. I will miss him every single day, but I’m determined to make him proud.”

  When he sat down, a group of women came forward to sing softly while Pastor George finished the funeral.

  The sun was below the horizon, with its glorious rays turning clouds purple and red, before Jeremy walked up onto Carrie and her father’s porch.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “People needed to talk.”

  “Of course, they did,” Thomas said. “They loved your father so very much. His death will leave a huge hole in their lives, but time will heal it.” He put an arm across Jeremy’s shoulder. “Just like it will for you.”

  Carrie gazed at her father and knew he spoke from experience. She knew he still missed her mother, still thought of her every day, but the loss had faded enough to let joy back into his life.

  Jeremy looked into her father’s eyes for a long moment and finally nodded. “I hope so,” he murmured.

  Carrie led the way into the dining room. May had gone all out to fix a special dinner for Jeremy. Summer’s bounty had the table almost groaning. A plate of steaming corn on the cob was surrounded by sliced tomatoes, fried squash, piping hot green beans with fatback, peppers, and two blackberry pies.

  Carrie’s mind flew to the plantation. She had a brief moment of regret that her plans to provide food for people in the city had been cut short by the Union army, and she longed to know how Sam, Opal, and the kids were doing, but she knew she was where she was meant to be.

  Jeremy laughed and looked around the room. “Is there an army joining us to eat all this food?”

  Carrie laughed with him. “May was determined that you know how much she thought of your father.”

  Silence fell on the room as they consumed the food. Carrie knew Jeremy needed quiet after the long day he had experienced.

  Finally Jeremy looked up, pain heavy in his eyes. “Have you ever known anyone who was adopted?” he asked.

  Carrie stared at him. “Only you,” she admitted. She knew he needed to talk. “What’s it like?”

  “When I got adopted by my parents, it’s like I was the luckiest person in the world,” he said softly, “but…”

  “But what?” Thomas prompted gently when the silence spread out.

  Jeremy shook his head and made no attempt to hide his tears. “I just feel so alone now. And I can’t help wondering…”

  Silence filled the room again.

  “You can’t help wondering whether there is another family out there?” Carrie asked softly, her heart beating harder.

  Jeremy hesitated and then nodded. “Is that horrible?”

  “Of course not,” Thomas said immediately. “I think if it was me I would feel the same way.”

  Carrie remained silent, but she could feel excitement taking wing in her heart. The time had come.

  Finally, Jeremy looked at her and was obviously startled by the smile on her face. “Carrie?”

  “I’ve been waiting a very long time for this moment,” she finally said. “I’ll be right back.” She ran lightly up the stairs, reached into her dresser for the letter, and ran back downstairs. “This is for you,” she said tenderly. “It’s a letter from your father.” Then she paused. “You may want to read it alone. Father and I can leave.”

  “No,” Jeremy protested. “You two have become like family to me. I want you to stay.”

  Carrie sat down again, stared at her father, and wondered how he would take the revelation.

  Silence reigned in the room for several long minutes as Jeremy read his letter and then read it again, disbelief sharpening his features. He gazed up at both of them several times, and then his eyes jerked back to the letter, his breath coming in short gasps.

  “Son?” Thomas reached over to touch Jeremy’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  Jeremy finally looked up and managed a shaky smile. “I guess that should be brother,” he replied and then turned to stare at Carrie. “You knew?”

  “Since last winter,” she admitted. “I promised your father I wouldn’t tell you.” She took a deep breath. “It was a hard promise to keep.”

  “Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” Thomas demanded.

  Carrie gazed at Jeremy. “Perhaps you should just read the letter. I don’t know what it says either. Your father told me about it the night he died and asked me to give it to you.”

  Jeremy stared at Thomas, took a deep breath, and began to read.

  Dearest Jeremy,

  You’re reading this letter because I’ve gone home. You can be sure I’m happy with God, but I want you to be happy, too. It’s time for me to do something I should have done a very long time ago, but I was too afraid.

  Please know I wasn’t afraid for me. I was afraid for you – afraid of what it would mean for your life. I’ll also confess I wondered whether you would believe me. Carrie told me I was underestimating you, but I asked her to promise to keep my secret. She agreed to for no, but said when the war was over she didn’t know what she would do. I’m glad she doesn’t have to make that decision.

  Thomas looked at Carrie sharply but remained silent as Jeremy continued to read.

  Jeremy, I’ve never told you about where you came from. It’s time. You have a rich heritage and have been surrounded by more of your family. You just didn’t know it. Before I tell you, please try to understand that I kept the secret only because I thought it would be best for you.”

  Jeremy’s voice faltered and tears filled his eyes. He stared at Carrie wordlessly and then handed her the letter.

  Carrie reached for it, found her place, and continued.

  We adopted you after you were sold as a slave from Cromwell Plantation.

  Carrie heard her father gasp but continued to read. This letter would tell him what he needed to know.

  Your mother was a slave woman named Sarah. Carrie has told me many wonderful things about her. I’m sorry to tell you she died two years ago. She was raped by Thomas Cromwell’s father.

  This is so hard to write now. You are a twin, Jeremy. Your sister, Rose, was born black and was raised on the plantation. Rose is Carrie’s best friend.

  Thomas, not wanting to sully his father’s reputation, took you from the plantation the same day you were born and sold you. The woman at the plantation you were sold to didn’t want to hav
e a white slave, so she sent you to the orphanage in Richmond.

  That’s when your mother and I received the greatest blessing of our lives. Having you as our son has been nothing but pure joy. Your mother was determined to raise you without your knowing about your black heritage. I went along with it. Even after she died, it became easier not to tell you.

  Now I know I made a mistake. You are half black, Jeremy. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that in the white world we are a part of, especially in the South, but that is no longer my decision to make. You are a man. You deserve to know.

  You deserve to know the rest of your family. You deserve to know where you come from. You deserve to know that you could one day father a black child.

  In a small way, I’m relieved that I’m going to die soon. I should have told you before. Now I don’t have to see the disappointment in your face. I suppose I’m a coward.

  Please know how very much I love you. Being your father was the greatest honor of my life.

  Your father

  Carrie finally looked at her father.

  Thomas stared back at her with stunned eyes, turned to gaze at Jeremy, and then stared back at her. “How did you find out?” he finally asked.

  “I found an old family album last winter when I was home on the plantation,” she explained. “When I saw a picture of Grandfather as a young man, I knew I was looking at a mirror image of Jeremy. I had met Jeremy only once before.” She looked over at Jeremy. “I went to Pastor Anthony, and he told me the truth but begged me not to tell Jeremy.”

  Thomas turned around to stare at Jeremy again. “How could I have not seen it? Carrie is right. You look just like my father.”

  “You weren’t looking for him,” Carrie said gently. “I was. After I knew about Rose’s twin, I looked for him everywhere. It wasn’t until I saw the picture that it all fell in place.”

  Silence fell on the room as feelings swirled, collided, entwined, and then swirled again.