The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  “You seem to be enjoying this.”

  Abby opened her eyes when an amused voice sounded beside her. “I most certainly am,” she said cheerfully as she looked into warm brown eyes under dark hair streaked with gray. She continued her casual inspection that approved of the impeccably tailored suit. “And who might you be?”

  “Dr. Lucas Strikener,” came the immediate response as he bowed slightly. His voice had a warmth that matched his eyes. “And who may I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

  “Abigail Livingston,” Abby responded cordially. “What takes you to Fort Monroe, Dr. Strikener?”

  “Richmond, actually,” he replied.

  Abby eyed him more closely, her curiosity piqued. “And what is in Richmond?”

  “The hospitals that will soon need to care for Union soldiers too ill to transport north. My job is to inspect them and make sure they meet our standards.”

  “I see,” Abby murmured. “I imagine that will include Chimborazo?”

  Dr. Strikener’s eyes widened with surprise. “You know about Chimborazo?”

  “I have a young friend who has been serving there as a doctor,” she replied. “I’m on my way to Richmond myself now that is under Union occupation.”

  “What is his name?”

  “Her name is Carrie Cromwell; actually, Carrie Borden now. She has married since the beginning of the war.” Abby enjoyed the way the doctor’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “A woman doctor?” His next words were even more incredulous. “In the South?

  “Well, she’s not official, but she has been serving as a doctor; in fact, she has been responsible for the introduction of herbal medicines since our embargoes have so successfully blocked medicine from Richmond.”

  Dr. Strikener eyed her more closely. “I thought there was no communication with Richmond,” he said thoughtfully.

  “It helps to know the right people,” Abby said casually and then laughed heartily. “I suppose I should admit I have an agenda for this conversation.”

  The amused glint came back into the doctor’s eyes. “And what might that be?”

  “Carrie Borden is like a daughter to me. I have kept up with her in much too small a way through a journalist who escaped Libby Prison.” She quickly explained how Carrie and Robert had helped Matthew; enjoying the way Dr. Strikener’s eyes widened as she told the story of two Rebels helping a Yankee journalist. “I have already made connections with Dorethea Dix and Dr. Blackwell,” her smile growing broader as his eyes narrowed with intensity. “I told you I had an agenda,” she teased.

  “One you seem quite determined to achieve.”

  “Oh, yes. Carrie was to come live with me and start college in Philadelphia just before the war broke out and separated us. I’m quite determined she get her chance now. I imagine the more contacts and connections I have with the field of medicine, the more I will be able to help her.”

  Dr. Strikener gazed at her for a long moment. “And just what makes you think I would help a woman enter the field of medicine? You do know it’s considered a profession for men, don’t you? There are many men working to block what you’re suggesting.”

  Abby stiffened and stared into his eyes, and then relaxed when she saw the easy humor lurking there. “No one with eyes as kind and warm as yours would block anyone from the medical field who really wants to help make a difference.”

  “You’re sure of that, are you?”

  Abby nodded and grinned impishly. “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

  Dr. Strikener laughed and moved to stand beside her on the railing. “No. Why don’t you tell me more about this young woman?”

  Abby happily obliged, and then let silence lapse between them, content with silence as they watched the bow of the boat plow through the waves. She knew the doctor was processing everything she had told him. Seagulls soared and swooped overhead. She gave a gasp of delight as a dolphin leapt from the water in greeting. “It’s a beautiful day,” she murmured.

  “Yes, it is,” Dr. Strikener agreed, “and I want to assure you I will do everything I can to help your Carrie when she comes to see me.”

  Abby smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “Are you going to Richmond just to see her?”

  Abby shook her head. “It would be enough of a reason, but it’s not the only one. It won’t be long until the war is over. Richmond fell just four days ago. I understand the Confederates surrendered another eight thousand men when Sheridan cut them off at Sayler’s Creek yesterday. They simply can’t resist much longer.”

  “You are well informed,” Dr. Strikener said, respect and amazement shining in his eyes.

  “I have to be in my business,” Abby said calmly.

  “Your business?”

  “I’m one of those women who took over her husband’s manufacturing business in Philadelphia when he passed away.” Somehow she knew he wouldn’t be appalled. “I’ve done well over the years. The South is going to need help to rebuild. I want to play a part in it. I plan on placing a clothing factory in Richmond to help provide jobs – if there are any buildings still standing after the massive fires,” she said sadly, still horrified by the destruction she had learned about. “I’m also involved in helping form schools for the freed slaves. There is going to be a huge need.”

  “A busy woman,” Dr. Strikener commented. “I respect people who take action.”

  “Yes. I’ve discovered there are more ways to make a difference than I could possibly provide, but I’m also quite determined to do everything I can. Just imagine if everyone felt the same way…”

  “You mean if everyone did just what they could, knowing the accumulative effect would make a massive difference?”

  Abby gasped with delight. “Exactly!” She leaned back against the railing to look more closely at her traveling companion. “I was right about you,” she murmured.

  Dr. Strikener just smiled. “You could have taken a train into Richmond. They’re reopened enough of the lines to Washington.”

  “I’m going through Fort Monroe to connect with a very special young woman who is a teacher in the Contraband Camp. She loves Carrie as much as I do. I wouldn’t dream of going to Richmond without Rose.”

  “Did Carrie and Rose meet up north?”

  Abby chuckled. “No. Rose was Carrie’s slave until Carrie helped her escape. They are the closest of friends.” She decided to leave out the part about their being related. The poor man could only take so much.

  Dr. Strikener leaned back and stared at her. “This story gets better and better,” he murmured.

  “It’s a story that gives me hope,” Abby said firmly, sensing he would understand. “The last four years have ripped apart our country, but it has not ripped apart the hearts of the people within it.” She groped for words now. “If our country has any chance of uniting it will be because people choose to look beyond North and South, black and white – if they choose, to see just the people who are beneath the labels.”

  “You don’t think the South should pay for what they’ve done?”

  Abby looked at her companion sharply, but kept her voice calm. “I’d say they have already paid a heavy price for the choices they’ve made. Do you suggest they go on paying? Just how will that create a reunion or healing?”

  “Whoa!” Dr. Strikener held up his hands in mock surrender, and took a step back before he grinned. “It just so happens I agree with you.” Then he frowned. “I’m just not sure that what we want is going to be easy to make happen.”

  “President Lincoln feels the same way,” Abby protested, though she knew everything would not revolve around one man, no matter how powerful he was.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Thankfully, he does feel the same way. But there are far too many men in our government who feel differently. It’s going to be difficult to push his agenda forward.”

  “He was able to get the amendment to abolish slavery passed,” Abby reminded him.

  “Yes, but t
hat was partially because he pushed hard on it being necessary to win the war. Now that Richmond has fallen and the Confederacy is close to defeat, he has only the goodwill of men to fall on and I fear there is not enough there.”

  “But surely the politicians in the North want to see our country reunited,” Abby said, her heart sinking as she thought about many of the things she had read that disputed her conclusion. “It’s what we have fought so hard for the last four years.”

  Dr. Strikener’s merely smiled sardonically.

  “So it always comes back to this,” Abby said heavily. “We wouldn’t be in this war if it weren’t for the politicians, and now that we have a chance to create a unified country again, they are once again going to stand in the way.”

  “President Lincoln is a powerful man and he’s also very politically savvy,” the doctor replied. “I have hopes he can hold things together and fight for true unity.”

  Abby fought the tears that blurred her vision.

  Dr. Strikener moved forward and took hold of one of her hands. “I’m so sorry to have distressed you,” he said contritely.

  Abby managed a short laugh. “I have been distressed for years,” she murmured. “I just thought if I kept trying…”

  “That you could make a difference in black students getting educated?” the doctor asked. “You have. You hoped you could make a difference by helping Carrie become a doctor. You’re taking every step you can to do that. I suspect you were very involved with the abolition movement.” He smiled when Abby looked up sharply. “So was I – and now the slaves are free.”

  He gripped Abby’s hands tightly until she looked in his eyes. “We’ve had to fight politicians every step of the way,” he said firmly. “There are politicians who do wonderful things, and there are those who serve in order to promote their own selfish agendas. I suspect that will never change because human nature is a powerful thing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do something about it. We simply have to be determined enough to continue to fight.”

  Abby felt a sudden blaze of hope and her determination strengthened. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “You’re right. Enough of us fighting for the right thing will make a difference. It may take a long time, but we simply have to continue to fight.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Dr. Strikener cheered. “You also can’t give up on women having the ability to vote.”

  Abby stared at him. “You are indeed an unusual man,” she said quietly. “Your wife is a lucky woman.”

  “She was…” he said quietly, a flash of pain shooting across his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” Abby said quickly.

  “Don’t be. We had thirty wonderful years together and she gave me five fine children who are busy producing the next generation. She died eight months ago from pneumonia. Rebecca insisted on helping our wounded soldiers. She was exhausted after all the wounded soldiers poured in from the battles around Richmond last summer. She couldn’t fight the pneumonia.”

  Abby remained silent, but reached over and put a hand on his arm.

  Dr. Strikener shook his head and forced a smile. “She was fighting for a woman’s right to vote. I promised her before she died that I would do everything I could to carry on her fight.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Penelope Strikener… Of course. I remember her from a meeting in New York City. She was quite a beautiful and intelligent woman. I hadn’t heard she had passed away.”

  “Her body is gone, but her spirit remains,” the doctor assured her. “All three of my daughters have joined the fight.”

  Abby smiled and gazed out over the water as Fort Monroe came into view. “It won’t be easy, but this country is never again going to be the same. Women have had to carry the weight of responsibility once men were called to battle. They have also experienced freedom. They will never go back to the way things were before the war.” She thought of Rose. “And we have millions of people who are now free to live their lives. I think most of them have no clue that the ending of slavery is just the beginning of their fight for true freedom, but they will realize it soon. They will need a lot of help.”

  “It’s quite a privilege to be alive at a time like this,” Dr. Strikener replied. “I doubt any of it will be easy, but I’m glad to have a chance to be part of the solution.”

  “Yes,” Abby said thoughtfully. “I’m glad I am here to play a part in how history will unfold in this great country. We’re all a part of it, you know…”

  “Part of the braid of life,” Dr. Strikener agreed. “Every single thing we do will have an impact somewhere in the future.”

  “That’s it exactly,” Abby said eagerly. “I can’t help believe that if more people understand that truth they would choose their actions more carefully. Nothing we do stands alone in the world. Nothing!”

  The clanging of bells from Fort Monroe said they were drawing close to shore. Silence fell between them as the boat slid into its slip and was secured.

  “It’s full circle, you know,” Abby said quietly.

  “What is?”

  “Fort Monroe,” she answered. “It was in 1619 that a Dutch ship carrying slaves arrived on American shores. They were brought right here to Point Comfort. Two hundred years later it was slaves that constructed Fort Monroe, just a few hundred feet from where the first slaves landed. And now Fort Monroe was the first one to conscript slaves; opening the gates to freedom for millions.”

  “It has indeed come full circle,” Dr. Strikener agreed, “and none of those involved will probably ever fully comprehend the consequences their actions had. They probably never thought about what they were doing; they were just driven by the need or the greed of the moment. I pray every day I will be aware of the long reach of my actions through the ages.”

  The gangplank dropped and the call rang out for everyone to disembark. Abby and Dr. Strikener exchanged a long look.

  Dr. Strikener squeezed her hand. “Perhaps we will meet again.”

  “Perhaps,” Abby agreed, accepting his arm as they moved off the boat onto the dock. “I hope so.”

  Rose had struggled to concentrate on her students all morning. She had been expecting a letter from Moses for several days. She knew a warfront was unpredictable but he had managed to get at least a few lines off to her every week since he had joined in the siege of Petersburg. Now Richmond had fallen, but she still had received nothing from him. She was sick with worry for both him and Carrie. She was trying her level best to stay calm and just trust God, but she was honest enough to acknowledge she was failing miserably.

  “Did I say that right, Miss Rose? Miss Rose?”

  Rose jerked back to the classroom when little Carla stepped up and tugged the sleeve of her dress. “I’m sorry, Carla. What did you say?”

  “I asked you if I said it right.”

  Rose stared at her, unable to remember Carla even saying anything. She was obviously not doing her students any good. She shook her head, and then saw June slip in the back of the school. She breathed a sigh of relief, certain June had brought her a letter from Moses because she knew she had gone down to collect mail that morning.

  As she drew closer she saw the look on June’s face and froze in mid-stride, her breath catching in her throat as her heart began to pound. All she could do was stand and stare at her.

  June hurried forward and grabbed her arm, and then turned to the class. “Y’all can go home early today,” she called. Then she pulled Rose over to the side.

  Rose was aware all her students were looking at them with frightened faces as they grabbed their supplies and began to file slowly from the room. “Moses?” Rose managed to whisper, tears already forming in her eyes.

  June nodded and handed her the letter. “It’s from Simon.”

  Rose looked at her sharply and forced the words to come into focus.

  Dear June,

  We had a mighty battle yesterday at Fort Stedman. I’m okay, but Moses was shot.

  Rose groaned, gri
pped the letter tighter, and willed herself to continue reading.

  The doctors are doing everything they can, but it was a real bad wound. It’s been three days and he is still unconscious. Captain Jones lets me go check on him every day, but no one can tell me anything.

  Moses is real strong, June. If anyone can come back from this he can.

  I don’t think it will be long before we take Richmond. I’ll write again soon as I can and let you know how things are.

  I love you so very much,

  Simon

  “Moses has been shot…” Rose made no attempt to hide the tears falling down her face as she turned into June’s arms. The two women held on to each other as sobs shook their bodies. Once the tears had run their course, Rose sat back and straightened her shoulders. “When Simon wrote this letter Moses was still alive,” she said firmly. “He probably still is.” What her voice lacked in confidence, she was sure her heart made up for in fervent hope.

  June remained silent; her frightened look saying it had been almost ten days since Simon had written that letter. Why hadn’t another one come through?

  Rose felt June’s fear grab her and pull her in. Tears filled her eyes again. Suddenly her mama’s face was clear in her mind; Rose could hear her voice almost as if she were right there. Girl, you be borrowin’ trouble ‘fore trouble be here. That Moses of yours be a real strong man. And I don’t reckon God be done with him just yet. You gots to hang on, Rose Girl. You gots to hang on and send lots of love right through the air to him. Don’t you be lettin’ those fears of yours swallow you up. You done come too far. Hang on!

  Rose took a deep breath, willed the fear away, and swallowed back her tears. “We don’t know anything yet, June. He could just as likely be alive as be dead. Until someone tells me he is dead, I’m going to believe he’s alive,” she said firmly.

  June nodded slowly, some of the fear receding from her eyes. “You’re right,” she whispered.

  Rose knew the Union army had taken Richmond. The news had been swirling through the camp for the last four days with wild celebrations in every house, and dancing in the streets all through the lengthening spring days.