A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

  Both men stood as she entered the room, their discussion coming to an abrupt halt. ‘‘I do hope you two haven’t discussed Mother’s condition without me. If so, I fear you’ll need to repeat everything you’ve already said,’’ Jasmine remarked, her gaze directed toward her father.

  ‘‘Please join us, my dear. I’m sure you’d enjoy some refreshment. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to leave your mother’s bedside,’’ the older man said, walking to the corner of the room and pulling down on a thick gold cord.

  ‘‘When did you have the bell cords installed?’’ Jasmine inquired.

  Before her father could answer, a young light-skinned girl scurried into the room. ‘‘Yassuh?’’

  ‘‘Bring the tea tray,’’ he ordered.

  Jasmine smiled at the girl. ‘‘Please,’’ she added.

  ‘‘Please?’’ There was a note of irritation in her father’s voice. ‘‘Since when do you say please to slaves?’’ He didn’t await Jasmine’s answer. ‘‘Dr. Borden is due at any time. He’s been stopping to see your mother every afternoon. I’m certain he’ll give you a full report.’’

  ‘‘And you, Father? What is your report? You know Mother better than anyone else. Do you believe this is simply a reoccurrence of her chronic malaise, or has she not fully recovered from the yellow fever?’’

  Nolan sat down beside Jasmine. ‘‘Your father is obviously uncertain; that’s why he wants you to wait and talk to Dr. Borden.’’ ‘‘Nonsense. My father has an opinion about everything—especially where Mother is concerned.’’

  The older man gently tugged at his collar. ‘‘If you’re going to force me to render a judgment, I’d say it’s a combination of both. I don’t think she ever fully recovered, but that could be due to her ongoing propensity toward melancholy.’’

  Before Jasmine could further question her father, a knock sounded at the front door. Jasmine stared in disbelief as her father jumped up and hurried to the door.

  ‘‘It’s become quite obvious Father is trying to avoid me,’’ Jasmine said quietly to Nolan. ‘‘I’ve never seen him answer the door.

  The servants are likely going to spend the afternoon worrying they’ll receive punishment for not moving quickly enough.’’

  Jasmine listened to the muffled voices in the vestibule for several minutes before Dr. Borden finally appeared in the parlor doorway. ‘‘Your father and I are going upstairs to see your mother.

  I look forward to visiting with you when I come back down. It’s nice to see you, Jasmine,’’ he added almost as an afterthought.

  She knew she had been intentionally excluded. However, she would honor her father’s wishes—at least for the time being. ‘‘If you don’t mind watching after Spencer a little longer, Nolan, I believe I’ll look in on Mammy. Father, am I correct to assume she’s still in the same bedroom off the kitchen?’’

  ‘‘Yes, of course.’’

  ‘‘You go and see her,’’ Nolan said. ‘‘Spencer and I will be fine.’’

  Jasmine offered her thanks and then hurried off to the rooms used by members of the kitchen staff. She greeted each of the slaves by name before making her way into the small room where Mammy lay upon a narrow rope-strung bed that sagged under her weight. Safra, one of the kitchen slaves, hurried into the room carrying a straight-backed wooden chair.

  Jasmine offered the woman a smile and took the chair. ‘‘Thank you, Safra. The next time Mammy is out of bed, could one of you tighten the ropes on this bed? The mattress is barely off the floor.’’

  ‘‘I’s sorry, ma’am, but she don’ git outta dat bed long ’nuf for no rope tightenin’. We’s lucky to get clean beddin’ under her.’’

  Jasmine nodded and took Mammy’s hand. It was the second time this day that she’d held the limp hand of someone she loved.

  ‘‘Mammy, it’s Jasmine. I’ve come home for a visit.’’

  The old woman’s eyes remained closed, but her parched lips opened ever so slightly. ‘‘Chile, I’s glad you come home. You need to be tendin’ to your mama. When she’s better, you come and see me.’’

  ‘‘The doctor is with Mama right now. Has he been caring for you too?’’

  She gave a slight nod of her head. ‘‘Yes’m, but there ain’t nothin’ no doctor kin do fer me. I’m just waitin’ here for da good Lord to come and take me home.’’

  ‘‘Now, I’ll hear no more of that kind of talk. I’ve come all this way to see you, and you tell me you’re just going to lie here until you die? Why, I’ve even brought little Spencer along, and neither you nor Mother can hold your eyes open long enough to see him.’’ The words sounded cruel to her ears, but Jasmine hoped to startle Mammy into fighting for her life.

  Mammy’s eyes opened, and her dry lips cracked as the beginnings of a smile began to form. ‘‘You is still a sassy chile. Now git upstairs and see what dat doctor got to say ’bout your mama. You can bring yo’ baby in to see me after you find out what dat doctor has to say. I want a report. Ain’t nobody willing to tell me nothin’ about her.’’

  Jasmine nodded her agreement before standing. ‘‘I’ll be back after I’ve talked to Dr. Borden.’’ Carrying the chair under one arm, she deposited it in the kitchen and headed up the back stairway to her mother’s room.

  ‘‘You know she’s dying, Malcolm. It’s likely going to be only a matter of days before you’ll have to bury her.’’

  Jasmine clutched the doorframe, her fingernails digging into the hard, cold cypress wood. ‘‘What are you saying?’’ she nearly shouted. ‘‘My mother isn’t going to die. You’re a doctor—do something to make her well. My father engaged you to heal her, not to issue a death sentence.’’ She inveighed against him as though her very words would serve to strengthen his medical prowess. ‘‘Tell him, Father.’’ She hissed the words from between clenched teeth, her gaze riveted upon her mother’s lifeless form. ‘‘Tell him to make her well.’’

  ‘‘Come with me, Jasmine,’’ her father said, firmly taking her by the arm. ‘‘We’ll discuss this matter downstairs.’’

  Jasmine leveled an accusatory stare in the doctor’s direction. ‘‘You will be joining us, won’t you, Dr. Borden?’’

  Her father tightened his hold on her elbow. ‘‘Of course he will. And you need to remember your manners.’’

  ‘‘Manners? He’s just said that Mother is dying. I’m not concerned about manners; I’m concerned about my mother,’’ she rebuked.

  ‘‘As am I,’’ he came back in a hushed voice. ‘‘Do you think you are the only one feeling pain and sadness? If so, you are very mistaken. The thought of living the remainder of my life without your mother is unbearably distressing. Yet I would prefer Dr. Borden’s honesty to false platitudes. I’ve asked him to be forthright.’’

  It was obvious these past months had taken their toll on her father. He had grown thinner, and his once taut skin now sagged, mapping creases and folds that hadn’t been evident a year ago. A dull weariness had replaced the glint of joy and excitement she’d grown accustomed to seeing in his eyes.

  ‘‘Of course, Father. I apologize. I’ve been here only one afternoon, and I’m passing judgment on everyone who has spent these many months worrying and caring for Mother. It’s just—difficult.’’ A lump rose in her throat and tears threatened to spill at any moment. She dared not say anything more or she’d fall into her father’s arms weeping, and that was a burden he didn’t need. What he did need was a family that would be strong and supportive.

  ‘‘Difficult. Yes,’’ he said, patting her hand. ‘‘But with God’s grace, we’ll get through this. Now let’s go down to the parlor.’’

  Dr. Borden’s report was exactly what she’d expected: Her condition was weaker today; nothing more to do; wait; pray; he would return tomorrow; he would check on Mammy.

  His final words brought Jasmine to attention. ‘‘After you’ve seen Mammy, will you tell me how she is faring?’’

  The doctor gazed down at Spencer maki
ng a stack of wooden blocks and massaged his forehead. ‘‘Unless something unexpected has occurred since yesterday, I can tell you her condition is quite similar to that of your mother. To be honest, Mammy’s illness was one of the worst cases I’ve seen. I didn’t expect her to make it through the first weeks. However, whether it’s because she was a little stronger or because she had the will to live, I’m not certain. But I do know that from time to time she speaks about the need to hang on a little longer.’’

  ‘‘For what? Has she said what it is she needs?’’ Jasmine asked, hope beginning to kindle in her heart. Maybe she could supply whatever it was Mammy wanted and the old slave would be miraculously healed.

  The doctor shook his head back and forth. ‘‘I have no idea. She hasn’t confided in me, but whatever the reason, it seems to have sustained her for now. I’ll look in on her and stop to see you before I take my leave.’’

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ Jasmine waited only a moment before turning to her father. ‘‘Mammy will tell me what it is she needs. Whatever it is, we’ll see to it for her, won’t we, Papa? We’ll be able to help her regain her health.’’

  ‘‘Or give her the freedom to rest easy and die.’’

  Jasmine slumped down into the chair. ‘‘Is that what you think? If we help her, she will give in and die?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, Jasmine. I have no answers for you.’’

  Jasmine’s brothers came into the parlor and looked at the subdued group.

  ‘‘If I knew how to resolve any of this,’’ Malcolm continued, ‘‘it would already be accomplished. But I do know the doctor is correct. While your mother appears to have no will to live, Mammy has fought to survive, especially when I told her you were coming home.’’ A tear glistened in her father’s eye. ‘‘I wish it would have had the same effect upon your mother. I’m not certain she even heard me when I told her you and Spencer would be here for a visit. I’ve not been much use around the plantation. I’ve relied upon your brothers to take care of things.’’

  ‘‘And we’ve been happy to do so,’’ McKinley said. ‘‘If nothing else good has come from this, both David and I have learned a great deal about the business.’’

  Her father gave a weary nod. ‘‘There’s truth to that statement. And you’ve both performed admirably. And from what the Associates report, so has Samuel,’’ he said, glancing toward Nolan.

  ‘‘Other than through Jasmine’s shipping business, I know little of what goes on with the Associates, Mr. Wainwright. However, if anything were amiss, I’m certain you’d receive word. I do know Samuel’s schedule is very busy.’’

  ‘‘I can attest to the fact that he’s busy, for we seldom see him when he’s in Lowell on business,’’ Jasmine added.

  ‘‘I’ll discuss that situation with him. Business is important, but keeping strong family ties is even more essential. I fear I learned too late in life just how important my family is to me,’’ her father said with a sad ache in his voice.

  The sound of Dr. Borden’s footsteps caused all of them to look toward the doorway. ‘‘She’s much the same, although she remembers you are here, Mrs. Houston. She told me you’d brought your baby and come home to visit. I take that as a positive sign,’’ he said while giving Jasmine a tentative smile. ‘‘However, please don’t interpret my remarks to mean she is recovering. I’m merely saying that I’m somewhat encouraged that she spoke to me and that she remembered talking to you a short while ago.’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ Jasmine replied, her lips bowing into a radiant smile. Hiding her elation would be as impossible as telling the sun not to rise in the east. If Mammy’s condition worsened in the future, she’d deal with it then. But for now, she would take the doctor’s words of encouragement and be thankful for this moment of joy.

  By day’s end, Jasmine was exhausted. She’d run back and forth between the bedsides of the two women she loved, attended to Spencer’s supper and readied him for bed, eaten a late supper with her family and Nolan, and then fallen into bed consumed with guilt because she hadn’t been at home to assist in her mother’s care and also with fear that two of the most important women in her life would soon be gone from this world. Unbidden dreams plagued her sleep. When Spencer tugged at her hand the next morning, Jasmine could only moan in acknowledgment. The child finally resorted to crawling into her bed and prodding open her eyelids with his small fingers until she’d finally succumbed and forced herself to awaken.

  The morning passed quickly, and after quieting Spencer for his afternoon nap, Jasmine sat down in the parlor with Nolan. Following last night’s restless sleep, a brief period of relaxation would serve her well.

  ‘‘I’m pleased to see you’re going to take a few moments to yourself,’’ Nolan said. ‘‘You need to take care of yourself or you’ll be taking ill.’’

  Before Jasmine could utter a response, a sharp rap sounded, followed by the incessant ringing of the servant’s bell above the front door. ‘‘Who can that be, and why don’t they give us an opportunity to come to the door? That bell is going to awaken Spencer,’’ Jasmine said as she hurried from the room, unwilling to wait for one of the servants.

  Yanking open the door, her look of anger and exasperation immediately wilted. ‘‘Cousin Zachary . . . I mean, President Taylor,’’ she stammered.

  ‘‘Jasmine, my dear, has your father relegated you to the position of housekeeper?’’ the president asked with a grin.

  ‘‘No, of course not. Do come in,’’ she said, stepping aside.

  ‘‘What a pleasant and unexpected surprise.’’

  ‘‘Why is it you’re answering the door here at The Willows? I thought you were living in Massachusetts.’’

  She took his hat and handed it to Bessie, who was now scurrying into the hallway. In a hushed whisper she told the girl, ‘‘Go tell my father that President Taylor is here.’’ Then turning to the president, she squared her shoulders. ‘‘Quite honestly, I didn’t wait for one of the servants because I feared the ringing bell would awaken my son from his afternoon nap,’’ she replied with a grin. ‘‘And I do live in Lowell. However, Mother’s failing health brings me back to The Willows.’’

  ‘‘Yes, your mother’s health. Exactly why I’ve come,’’ he said, striding into the parlor with an ease that spoke volumes. ‘‘Zachary Taylor,’’ he said, extending his hand to Nolan.

  ‘‘An honor,’’ Nolan said, standing quickly and obviously stunned by a visit from the president of the United States.

  ‘‘Do sit down. I’m not royalty and I’m no longer a general— merely the president. You need not remain standing in my presence,’’ he said with a hearty laugh. He glanced toward Jasmine. ‘‘Is your father close at hand?’’

  ‘‘Yes, of course. I told Bessie to fetch him. He should be here any moment. I’ll ring for tea. Do promise you’ll stay for supper. I know Papa will be disappointed if you refuse.’’

  ‘‘What will disappoint me?’’ her father asked as he rounded the corner and entered the parlor. ‘‘Zachary! What a wonderful surprise. Tell me what brings you to Mississippi. Nothing unpleasant, I hope.’’

  Jasmine watched as the two men clasped hands and then embraced. They were relatives by marriage, a bond that had subsequently developed into a deep friendship.

  ‘‘Visiting Mississippi is always a pleasure, Malcolm. Even when I’m greeted with unpleasant circumstances,’’ he said with a brooding look in his eyes. ‘‘There were matters that needed my attention at the plantation. I made mention of them, and my dear Peggy insisted I personally attend to them. I didn’t understand her resolve until she read me a letter she had received from Madelaine saying she’d contracted yellow fever. Peggy’s concerns have continued to mount as time passed with no further word from her cousin.’’

  Her father briefly closed his eyes and nodded. ‘‘I didn’t realize Madelaine had written. I know Peggy’s condition is tenuous, and I didn’t want to cause her undue concern, Zachary. However, I fear anythin
g I would have written could have only served to worry Peggy further.’’

  ‘‘My wife is an amazingly strong woman,’’ Taylor said in a bittersweet manner. It left Jasmine wondering exactly what ailed the president’s wife.

  ‘‘I wish I could say the same about Madelaine.’’

  ‘‘So she is no better?’’

  ‘‘Dr. Borden says her prospects are grim. She appears to have lost the will to live.’’

  Zachary frowned. ‘‘Unfortunately, both of our wives have been plagued by melancholy throughout their lives. Since taking up residency at the White House, Peggy has retreated to her upstairs rooms. I rely upon our daughter Betty to act as my hostess at formal functions and, I must admit, she is becoming quite accomplished at the task. I’m thankful for her assistance.’’

  ‘‘And her husband—he’s a colonel now, isn’t he?’’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘‘Indeed. A fine man. Fortunately, we became fast friends from the very beginning. I heartily approved of Betty’s marriage to Colonel Bliss.’’

  ‘‘Unlike your daughter Knox. Her marriage to Jefferson Davis was a bitter pill for you to swallow, wasn’t it, Zachary,’’ Malcolm stated.

  Nolan glanced toward President Taylor. ‘‘I didn’t realize one of your daughters married Jefferson Davis.’’

  ‘‘Against my wishes. She died of malaria three months after they wed. Jefferson and I finally settled our differences when we fought together in Mexico. I know it would have pleased Knox. I only wish our reconciliation had occurred before her death. However, it was important to set aside my pride, so I extended an olive branch. Jefferson accepted. I learned a difficult and valuable lesson through that ordeal: I don’t let the sun go down on my anger with any member of my family. They come first in my life.’’

  ‘‘I’ve certainly been much more taciturn in that regard. For far too long, I placed my business and financial concerns before anything else—even to the detriment of Jasmine’s welfare.’’