A Love Woven True

by Judith Miller

Zachary’s words were true. Peggy sat in a dark blue brocade chair, with her feet clad in silk slippers that were propped on a matching footstool. At first glance, the ornate ivory cane she held in her hand gave the appearance of a royal scepter. Attired in a dress of peach fabric with her thick white hair perfectly coifed in the latest fashion, Peggy appeared healthier than Malcolm had seen her in years. There was now a pink tinge to her cheeks, and her piercing blue eyes held a spark of vitality. Only when she stood to take Zachary’s arm and walk to the dining table did her frail health become evident. She leaned heavily upon her carved cane with one hand and held tightly to her husband’s arm with the other, the tap of her cane slow and labored, unlike the insistent knocking he’d earlier heard.

  Malcolm watched as Peggy slowly settled herself at the table and then turned her gaze toward him. ‘‘I want to hear how your family is managing, Malcolm. I can see that McKinley has turned into a handsome young fellow. I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to escape all those Southern belles, young man.’’ McKinley grinned at the older woman. ‘‘I’ve not yet met the young lady to whom I’m ready to commit the rest of my life. And who knows—I may decide to leave the comfort of The Willows one day, and most Southern women prefer to remain among their families.’’

  Peggy nodded her affirmation. ‘‘I’d say you’ve a sound head on your shoulders, McKinley. Marriage is not a commitment to be taken lightly. The vows you make are not only to the one you love, but also to God. You’ll know when the time is right. And how is Jasmine? Has she decided to return home to Mississippi and care for the Wainwright men?’’

  Malcolm’s gaze remained fixed on McKinley, for he was still not completely certain he’d understood his youngest son’s reply. McKinley had never before indicated a desire to leave Mississippi.

  Peggy gave an insistent tap of her cane. ‘‘I was asking about Jasmine’s returning home, Malcolm.’’

  Malcolm rubbed his jaw as though he were suddenly plagued by an aching tooth. ‘‘No, I don’t believe any of us gave that idea much consideration—including Jasmine. She is quite happy living in the North, and I doubt she could be convinced to leave. In fact, we’re on our way north on business and will be staying for a visit with Jasmine and my mother.’’

  ‘‘I’m certain it would ease your loss if she would return to The Willows,’’ Peggy said.

  ‘‘I wouldn’t consider asking her to do so. She would be eternally unhappy. In addition, I fear my mother has turned Jasmine into a Northern sympathizer.’’

  Peggy leaned forward, her fork in midair. ‘‘How so?’’

  ‘‘I believe she’s become an antislavery activist and forgotten her true Southern heritage.’’

  McKinley shifted and edged forward on his chair. ‘‘Just because Jasmine opposes slavery doesn’t mean she’s forgotten her heritage.’’

  There was a spark of anger in McKinley’s gaze, and Malcolm knew he’d offended his son. He no longer knew with certainty what McKinley was thinking, but he didn’t want his comment to escalate into a family argument. ‘‘No, of course not. Tell me, Zachary, how are you progressing with issues before the Congress?’’

  With a hand on either side of his plate, Zachary used the table for leverage and leaned back against the chair’s hard wood. ‘‘I suppose you’ve already heard about my stormy conference with the Southern leadership back in February—I managed to anger most of them.’’

  Malcolm smoothed the fringe of hair that circled his bald head. ‘‘I think it could be more appropriately stated that you angered all of them, Zachary. I wonder if that whole ordeal couldn’t have been handled more diplomatically.’’

  ‘‘They’re hardheaded when it comes to the issue of slavery, Malcolm. You know that better than most. There’s no reasoning with them. They all believed I would bow to their whims because I own slaves. You know as well as the next man that I respect slaveholders’ rights in the fifteen states where the institution is legal. I adamantly oppose the extension of slavery. I am not going to jeopardize the Union because of the extension issue. My position was clear, but I sat quietly and permitted them the courtesy of expressing their views. Yet, after they saw that I would not be swayed, they began talking of secession. It was at that point I told them that if they rose up against the laws of this land and the Union, I would personally lead the army against them.’’

  ‘‘If memory serves me, you also told your Southern brothers you wouldn’t hesitate to hang them just as you had done to deserters and spies during the Mexican War,’’ Malcolm added.

  ‘‘More than that, I told them that if they were taken in rebellion against the Union, I would hang them with less reluctance than I’d shown toward the traitors in Mexico—and I meant every word I uttered.’’

  Malcolm stared at Zachary, unwilling to believe the words his friend and kinsman had spoken. ‘‘Surely you don’t fault the men who are willing to fight in order to protect their very livelihood.’’

  ‘‘I’m doing nothing to change how they live and support themselves; I’m not proposing an end to slavery in any of the states where it presently exists. I’m merely standing in opposition to extension. You would think they’d be willing to accept the fact that their lives will not change a jot if they’ll simply leave well enough alone. I had hoped to assuage their concerns by purchasing a sugar plantation and another sixty slaves several months ago. Wouldn’t you think my actions should have made a strong statement to the Southern elite?’’

  ‘‘But you’re sending mixed messages to the entire nation. The North thinks they’ll sway you into their antislavery camp while the South hopes you’ll return to where your true allegiance should rest. Your loyalties are divided.’’

  ‘‘They are not divided, Malcolm. My loyalty is with the Union,’’ Zachary refuted between clenched teeth.

  ‘‘Enough of this talk, gentlemen,’’ Peggy said. ‘‘You can discuss the state of the nation once you’ve departed the dinner table. For now, I’d like to hear about the rest of your family, Malcolm. How is David? Any prospects for marriage?’’

  ‘‘As a matter of fact, I believe David will soon wed. He’s been keeping company with a fine young lady for over a year now, and I think he’s soon going to declare himself. I know the girl’s father is anxious for the union—he owns several cotton plantations in Mississippi and I think he sees the marriage of his daughter as a way to expand his own holdings.’’

  Zachary emitted a loud guffaw. ‘‘Then her father doesn’t know you very well, does he?’’

  ‘‘She is a good match for David, and I believe they may elect to live at The Willows,’’ Malcolm replied.

  Peggy clapped her hands together. ‘‘What an excellent arrangement! Now that’s the type of news I enjoy hearing. Tell me more about this young lady. Do we know the family?’’

  ‘‘The Burnhams—father’s name is Winstead Burnham. He inherited the plantation from a great-uncle and they’ve been in Mississippi for only the last two years. Prior to that, they lived in Georgia. Winstead was happy to receive the inheritance—he’s the second son, and the family holdings in Georgia were destined for his brother.’’

  Peggy appeared to be deep in thought. ‘‘Would his current holdings be the Twin Oaks Plantation owned by John Hepple?’’

  ‘‘Indeed, that’s the one. Winstead’s made a number of improvements to the home, and I think he had a fair crop this year, but I don’t believe he has the financial means needed to get the place back in top-notch condition. John’s health was bad for many years, and his overseer did a poor job of keeping the place running properly.’’

  ‘‘Be certain to tell David that we will expect an invitation to the wedding. I don’t know if my health will permit the journey, but if Zachary is able, he’ll attend. Won’t you, dear?’’

  ‘‘I’d count it a pleasure,’’ the president assured. ‘‘I do have some meetings this afternoon, Malcolm, but I insist the two of you join me for some sightseeing tomorrow. Perhaps I can sneak abou
t town unrecognized before we return back here to the White House. Peggy and Betty have been planning some special festivities for the family’s Independence Day celebration. We’re hoping you can join us.’’

  The loud thwack of Peggy’s cane against the marble overlay surrounding the fireplace brought all three men to attention. ‘‘Of course they’ll be here. A hearty yes is the only answer I’ll accept,’’ she stated in her sweetest voice.

  Malcolm’s lips turned up to form a broad grin. ‘‘Having observed your ability to wield your cane with such absolute power, we dare not refuse.’’

  The president stepped out of the black horse-drawn carriage, pushed his stovepipe hat onto his head, and instructed the driver to wait for their return. Striding into the hotel, the president paused. ‘‘Is that him?’’ he asked Malcolm as he nodded in the direction of the hotel’s front desk.

  ‘‘It is. And he’s likely to be rendered speechless when he realizes who you are.’’

  Zachary’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘‘That’s what makes this such fun. People don’t expect the president to walk up and introduce himself.’’

  Malcolm and McKinley stood back and watched the scene unfold. Zachary approached the clerk as though he were any guest seeking accommodations for a night or two in the nation’s capital. Although the Wainwright men could not hear the conversation, the clerk laughed as Zachary obviously entertained the man with some tall tale. Moments later Zachary appeared to introduce himself and then reached to shake the clerk’s hand. The middle-aged clerk pushed away from the counter with his gaze fixed on the president in a trancelike stare.

  With a spirited grin, Zachary turned and waved Malcolm and McKinley forward. ‘‘You’d best confirm what I’ve told the clerk, or I don’t believe he’s going to regain his power of speech.’’

  Malcolm approached the clerk. ‘‘Sir, when I met with the president yesterday, I mentioned your admiration of him both as our president and as a formidable adversary during his military service in Mexico. President Taylor insisted upon meeting you.’’

  ‘‘Then this is—this is—truly the—the—president?’’ he stammered.

  ‘‘Indeed. And he came here specifically to meet you,’’ Malcolm reiterated.

  The clerk reached across the desk and grasped Zachary’s hand, propelling the president’s arm up and down with the enthusiasm of a dehydrated man priming a pump for a taste of water. ‘‘Oh, thank you, sir, thank you,’’ the clerk said, his words synchronized with each pump of Zachary’s arm.

  Malcolm covered his mouth with one hand lest he laugh aloud. The clerk had captured Zachary’s hand in a stranglehold and continued to maintain his grasp while the president wiggled his fingers in an obvious attempt to extricate himself.

  McKinley finally moved forward and stood beside Zachary. ‘‘We really must be going, don’t you think, President Taylor?’’

  Zachary wrested his arm free and gave McKinley an appreciative smile. ‘‘Yes, absolutely. I told the driver we would be only a few minutes.’’ He turned back to the clerk, now careful to keep his hands clasped behind his back. ‘‘Pleased to meet you. And my regards to your family.’’

  ‘‘I see what you mean about deriving pleasure from going about the city, Zachary. That little meeting was extremely entertaining,’’ Malcolm said as they exited the hotel.

  ‘‘Poor man appeared as besotted as a lovesick debutante. And you, Malcolm, could have at least attempted to hide your enjoyment of my predicament. I had begun to wonder if I would ever disentangle myself from the good fellow’s hand.’’

  ‘‘What we needed was Peggy’s cane,’’ Malcolm said, emitting a boisterous guffaw.

  ‘‘On a more serious note, don’t you believe your behavior somewhat dangerous?’’ McKinley inquired.

  ‘‘I don’t normally introduce myself, McKinley, and I have yet to have one person step forward and ask if I am the president. I’ll notice an occasional congressman assessing me, but he doesn’t approach. Of course, I never give them any sign of recognition. I think they fear being made the fool should they be incorrect. Those pompous men fail to remember they continually make ninnies of themselves in Congress.’’

  ‘‘No one who truly knows you would deny the fact that you are a man of simplicity, Zachary. A quality I richly admire, I might add.’’

  Zachary swiped the perspiration from his forehead. ‘‘Thank you, Malcolm. This heat is overbearing, is it not? Let’s make our way over to the Washington Monument. I’m expected there for special festivities, and I want you and McKinley at my side.’’

  Malcolm’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead. ‘‘Seems an odd place to host a celebration. From what I’ve seen, they don’t even have a good start on the monument.’’

  ‘‘True, but ever since the Masonic ceremonies and huge celebration when the cornerstone was laid two years ago, folks seem to think it’s the place to host the celebration. However, once the official ceremonies are completed, we’ll join the family for our personal Independence Day celebration. We can hope the weather will become more bearable once the sun goes down.’’

  The captain’s chest swelled like a bloated fish as he announced to the passengers they would arrive in Boston the next afternoon— virtually a full day ahead of schedule.

  ‘‘He acts as though he played some large part in our early arrival. The fair weather is the only reason we’ve made good time on this journey,’’ Malcolm muttered.

  ‘‘The man is an excellent seafarer,’’ McKinley replied.

  ‘‘It’s the weather, not his seafaring ability he’s got to thank for our early arrival. He’s portentous and immodest—acting as though he’s accomplished some great feat through his own proficiency.’’

  ‘‘Why are you angry, Father? The captain was merely informing us we’d be arriving early. You’ve been irritable since we departed Washington. Did you and President Taylor argue?’’

  ‘‘No, of course not. I know where Zachary stands. I don’t agree with him, but I know he’ll not change his mind. Frankly, it’s your behavior that has occupied my thoughts since our departure.’’

  McKinley started at the retort. ‘‘Me? Whatever for?’’

  With his chin thrust forward and hands tightly clasped behind his back, Malcolm stood against the ship’s railing as though prepared to do battle. ‘‘I was taken aback by your agreement with Zachary on the slavery issues. Every time the topic arose, you either sided with Zachary or argued beyond what either of us believes. To be honest, you sounded more like Grandmother Wainwright’s protégéthan my son.’’

  ‘‘And do my oppositional views make me any less your son?’’ McKinley’s words burned with the same defiance that filled his angry eyes.

  Malcolm rubbed his jaw and stared at McKinley. When had he lost his son to these irrational beliefs? First Jasmine and now McKinley! Yet it seemed impossible to believe McKinley had been swayed. He wasn’t around people who could influence him with absurd antislavery sentiment—or was he?

  ‘‘You’ve obviously been consorting with those who hold views that are in direct opposition to everything our family believes. May I inquire whom you’ve been meeting with?’’

  ‘‘I can’t imagine why you find it difficult to comprehend that my beliefs are independent of yours. We have little in common, Father. You’re eager to take charge of the physical operation of the plantation while my involvement has remained in the accounting and finances.’’

  A stiff breeze crossed the deck and Malcolm bent his head against the wind, his nostrils filling with the odor of fish and salt water. ‘‘I’ve maintained close supervision on the accounts throughout the years, and had you shown any interest in anything else—’’ ‘‘Anything so long as it lent itself to raising cotton. If you’ll think back to the time when I was ready to choose a vocation, I talked to you about my desire to become a doctor.’’

  ‘‘Oh yes—something about becoming a physician so you could provide the slaves with improved medical c
are.’’

  ‘‘Exactly. As I recall, you laughed and told me you needed someone to manage your finances and you would continue to look after the medical care for the slaves.’’

  Malcolm turned his gaze toward the ocean. ‘‘Surely you weren’t serious about such a pursuit. We’re a family of cotton growers. I need my sons actively involved in the business of raising cotton, especially now that Samuel is acting as an agent for the Southern growers. Moving Samuel into Bradley Houston’s old position with the Corporation in Lowell was excellent for this entire area of the South—The Willows included. However, it left me without his talent and physical presence. Hence my need to move David into his position and rely more heavily upon you to ensure the accounts and business matters are in proper order.’’

  ‘‘The fact remains that each of us is required to perform the work you designate advantageous, whether we agree or not.’’

  ‘‘I don’t recall your ever being unwilling to accept your wages or other benefits derived from your occupation. However, since you find your life at The Willows repugnant, perhaps you should support yourself in someone else’s employ.’’ Malcolm enunciated each word with a clarity that bit the air like glassy shards.

  ‘‘I’ll give that further thought, Father,’’ McKinley replied tersely as he strode away from the railing.

  ‘‘Further thought? What does he mean, ‘further thought’?’’ Malcolm muttered, balling his hand into a tight fist and pounding against the ship’s balustrade.

  Slowly the realization that his son was already weighing the possibility of moving away from The Willows began to seep into Malcolm’s consciousness, and a fierce anger began to build from deep within.

  Malcolm turned and faced directly into the wind, with the damp air stinging his face. ‘‘I’ll not lose another child to the North,’’ he vowed.

  CHAPTER• 11

  ALICE WAINWRIGHT beckoned to her grandson, who was descending the stairway. ‘‘Good morning, McKinley. Why don’t you escort me out into the garden? I’ve taken the liberty of asking Martha to serve us breakfast outdoors. I hope you can tolerate the foolish whims of an old woman. I enjoy spending a few hours in the garden before the heat of the day sets in, when the world still seems fresh and untouched.’’