Civilized Love
Diane Collier
Copyright 2012
Copyright © 2012 Diane Collier - All rights reserved.
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It was July 14th and just about three weeks had passed since the Civil War ended. Now battered and torn, Pvt. William Jacobs rode his faithful steed back to a land he once knew very well—as home. Now, he would return as a stranger.
The bloodbath of Gettysburg would forever remain in his memory bank and forever mark the significance of hatred and bloodshed in our history books. The blood of his slain brother would be an image that would haunt him until the end of time. The blood of an adversary; he’d always loved. John was his brother, two years older than he and they’d always been close. John, however, was like minded with his father.
“We bought our slaves fairly! We paid full price for them. We aren’t bad owners…” that was their mindset. William, however, never agreed. He saw the ‘slaves’ as humans. His father chastised him often for his ‘ignorance’. From the time William was a child he would often play with the young black children when given the chance. He had to play in secret, but thoroughly enjoyed the company of three children. Sam, Donavan, and their little sister. Riding back, he wondered how they fared in this battle. He also tried to remember the girl’s name, but simply couldn’t bring the name to memory. She was tiny and sweet. Pretty as a picture—he recalled. She’d be a woman now…he figured. Maybe she made it through to be free and free to marry someone who would treat her well.
One time William was caught playing with the ‘black children’ and his father tanned his hide but good. “No son of mine is going to play with the slaves! You will not disgrace me like this again… you understand boy!?”
Despite the many moments of ‘lecture’, William could simply not believe in owning another human being. Even though the common mindset placed the slave below a human’s status, William knew in his heart it was different.
His mother, Caroline, didn’t say one way or another, what she believed. She was the wife and had to know her place. It was Caroline’s sister Margaret who felt differently and often said so to those who’d listened. Most folks just referred to her as the mindless spinster. Fact of the matter was, she was the only woman willing to speak. That didn’t sit well with most men. Yet, William liked that about her. He’d often sit with her and talk; listening the ramblings of the town’s loon. Caroline barely spoke to Margo, because she could not condone her meddling ways.
Then, when war was declared and folks were called into battle, William took a stand for the north; walking away from his family’s beliefs for that which was right.
As the horse cantered through the entrance of Georgia, jarring the pain that still wracked his shoulder; his mind began to melt over the memory of the bloodiest battle he hoped to ever see. ‘Enough blood for a lifetime or two, he thought.’ He’d been shot and left for dead, piled among the bloody carcasses of his friends and allies. The river beneath him ran red as the smell of rot and gun powder competed with the summer’s willowing breeze.
The final picture replayed in his mind, slow motion, sounds muffled to the memory, as the battle unfolded. If he thought hard enough, he could still hear the big bangs of the cannons as the rumbled like thunder through the valley.
They’d charge into battle, both sides in the battle of all battles. There in the midst of ‘the Battle of Gettysburg’, in Adams County, PA. North and South were to head off in a bloody battle that took the lives of more than 7,000 men. As the dust settled and William was able to find his footing once again, he began to pull himself back to his people. The few who were left. Thought to have been killed along with the rest, they’d almost left him entirely. As he came into view of his comrades, something caught his eye.
He’d walked over one corpse after another. He tried not to look. He tried not to let it sink in. He didn’t want to think about the loss. He just wanted to go home. Now, a coat from the other side caught his attention among the thousands. It was John.
Williams’s blood turned cold within him as it left his face and dropped him to his knees. Looking upon the blood spattered body of his brother, he knew without a doubt, that John was dead. William hung his head and cried. “What has hate brought to us brother? What has it brought?” he sobbed and sobbed. His comrades heard the cries of a pitiful man and soon recognized their friend.
“William?” asked Dobbs, one of his fellow privates. “Why do you cry over this confederate?”
“This…is my brother” William replied.
Dobbs stood silent as William tried to stand. Then suddenly, in the shock of the aftermath and loss of blood, William collapsed. It was three days before he awoke in the hospital, lying beside the window of amputated body parts and in a room with those who were left to live with the memory of the momentous hill of slaughter.
#
Now entering the gates of the magnificent plantation, he saw row after row of black folks walking past him with few possessions in hand. They were free, but now made way to find lives they’d either forgotten or never known. Freedom was bitter sweet. Many had perished for crimes the white felt justified. Now black was deemed free, yet not yet equal. Finding work, food, shelter; would be difficult. Despite the struggle that lay ahead, they moved forward.
William smiled and nodded at the few slaves he’d remembered as a child. Their smiles were hesitant, but sincere. The occasional tip of the hat was offered in recognition for his willingness to stand. He’d been one of the ‘good guys’, they’d concurred, yet—he was still a Jacobs.
As his horse neared the house, William could hear the voice of a very familiar soul shouting for glee. “William!”
William turned his head to see the bountiful aunt he’d always loved running to him with open arms. Eager to see her, he quickly dismounted and embraced her with open arms. His shoulder hurt like hell, but it didn’t matter. He was glad to have seen her first. It made coming back seem less awkward.
“Oh dear boy!” she said joyfully. “It sure is good to see you!”
“Good to see you too Aunty Marg.”
“How you doing? How’s the shoulder?”
The family had been telegrammed with the news of both sons. John’s death would no doubt cause a ruckus for William. His shoulder wound was minor to the pain he’d have to face with his parents.
“It’s fine Aunty, just fine.”
As they got reacquainted, the door to the house opened and shut. He looked to the porch and saw his father standing there, staring him down with cold resentment. Unwilling to embrace his treacherous son, he left the porch and walked to the barn; shunning William’s existence.
Still William had to try.
Entering the house, his mama was waiting for him quietly at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a long yellow dress with white lace. She looked old and smelled of booze. She stared at him as if she was staring at a stranger.
“Hi Mama” William said. “I’m home.”
She looked at him with wonder. “William…” That was all she said. She smiled slightly, but then heard the footprints of her husband as he came up the porch.
Door opened and William turned around quickly. “Hello father” he said.
“I am not your father” he said sternly. “My only son was killed fighting for our pride.”
“Gerry!” scolded his mother.
“You stay out of it!” he said harshly.
“He was my son too. Both of them are” she said.
“You remember whose side you were on!”
“Father…you can’t treat her like that!”
“You…Yankee…You are NOT welcome in my home!”
“We can’t turn William away!”
“You want to lay down with the slaves; you stay in their quarters and fend for your own feed. I wash my hands of ya!” his father began to turn and walk away and then said “You best not be babying him now. He’s a trader and the William you loved is dead to this family. You remember that good woman!”
As Gerry stormed from the house, the room fell silent. Margaret, who’d been outside entered the house and frowned at her sister. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself Caroline!” Then with nurturing eyes she looked at William and said “Come son. You can stay with me” she said. Feeling the loss of his family, William agreed and went with Margaret’s to stay.
#
After, what felt like 20 years of much needed sleep, William awoke feeling almost as young as he was before the war. Yet, something inside of him felt hallowed out. Most men returned with different men; shells of their former selves. The house was quiet and bare. Then, stepping outside, he could hear the bustle of the city and decided to board his horse and rode along until he entered the main road of the city. There, he found a small restaurant that was serving his favorite southern breakfast items.
He hadn’t noticed anything strange when he first entered the restaurant, but then one of the fellows recognized him and sneered. “It’s one of them damn yanks!”
“Damn Yanks!” the people growled. “Fool don’t belong here…”
Suddenly William became aware of the cold, chilling daggers of their death sneering eyes, but William kept his cool and walked by them until he found a table of his own; away from the immediate eyes of the ‘Southern Gentlemen’.
He confidently sat down and then began to read the local paper. It talked of the war and the new life of the south. He was pleased, but it was keenly apparent that was not a shared view at this restaurant.
As he read the paper, he heard a sweet voice say “Coffee sir?”
“Yes please” he said. At first he didn’t make contact, but continued to speak until he noticed the darkened hand as she poured the dark brew. As he looked into her young face, he noticed immediately that she was young… and vaguely familiar. Strolling through his memory, he final remembered the name of the little girl he’d played with all those years ago… was it her? He had to ask... “Denny?”
She looked confused as he sized her up. The young girl had grown into a beautiful woman, although he could see that there was some pain hidden behind her beautiful facade.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“It’s me, William Jacobs” he replied.
“Oh William, of course!” She smiled with fond memory.
“How are you Denny?” he asked.
“I’m good William. How are you?”
“Good” he smiled. “Say…where’s Sammy at? I should go say…” suddenly the look in her eyes caught him cold in his tracks.
Tears were in her eyes. “War got him” she sniffed softly, trying to hold back the tears.
“Oh gees Denny, I am so sorry” William’s sincerity was real.
As he consoled Denny, a big fellow name Bud—who’d been listening nearby—spoke up and said. “Good, one less nigger!”
“Shut your mouth!” William scolded. “Not in front of the lady!”
“Lady? I don’t see no lady” he groaned.
“Seriously Bud, cool it. The war’s over. She’s free. Move on!”
“She may be free from slavery, but then again, she may be free for a good fuck too, right?”
William was ticked and stood tall quickly, knocking his chair over. The rise caught the attention of everyone in the restaurant. “Listen Bud, I am asking you… stop it. Now!”
“Or what?”
“Or I will be laying some big white Yankee kick assing whipping all over your big fat ugly southern one!”
The big man jumped to his feet and immediately stood toe to toe with William.
“Back off!” William insisted, placing Denny behind him.
“You got a big mouth for a fucking yank!” the man said forcefully, shoving William slightly.
William lost his footing and fell back, causing one man to spill his beer.
“Who shoved me?!”
Denny jumped in. “It was an accident…William was shoved…”
“Shut up nigger…” said the beer man. “I wasn’t asking you.”
“Don’t talk to her like that!” William said.
“You got a big mouth yank!”
“You got a big head!” William replied.
Suddenly, the room erupted with rage. The men charged William and began to kick and punch him viciously.
“Don’t hurt him!” Denny cried. Then Bud who heard her, turned quickly and slapped a tray of dishes from her hands. They tumbled noisily to the floor in one big crash.
“Now you’re free to clean up that mess you made!”
Then the men grabbed William and began to drag him into the street. There they continued to kick and punch him. Until suddenly the Sheriff fired a shot into the air.
“What in the world are you all doing?” he snapped as they turned to look at him.
“This Yankee was causing trouble Sherriff” they said.
“Really?” he replied. “And it takes 6 men to make him stop?”
“He’s a nigger lover!”
“Listen boys, I’m from the south too. I don’t much like the changes myself. But the law is the law, blacks are free and the war is over. Beating on a Yank won’t change that” he said. “I suggest you boys return to your activities and leave the Yank alone.”
They didn’t like the idea at all, but agreed reluctantly to return to the restaurant.
Now bleeding and sore, William lay on the ground and looked up at the Sherriff. “Thank you” he said weekly.
“Don’t thank me Yank. Had this been five years ago, I’d have let them hang you for treason!” With that the Sherriff left and returned to his office down the street. Then the sheriff looked at Denny and said “You best get his ass off the street. I can’t babysit him all day…”
“Yes sir…” she said softly.
“Here, let me help you up Master Will” Denny said. His head was spinning as she helped him to his feet and led him back to his awaiting horse. After helping him up on the horse, she carefully led the horse back to her tiny home. It was dark, gloomy, and full of holes.
As she opened the door, William, who was lopped over her shoulder barely, noticed his surroundings before collapsing to the floor.
Immediately the family gathered around him and attended to his wounds carefully.
Rudy, a very stout and strong black woman aided in lifting William’s upper body, while the others helped lead his lower body. Together they laid him into bed and watched over him until the cold wash cloth shocked him awake.
Though his eyes were dazed, he could scarcely see his company. Denny stood quietly as her mother changed a bandage on his forehead.
“Don’t look like anything’s broken” said Denny’s mother. “You’re lucky boy.”
“Thank you Mum” he replied.
“You one of the good guys, I presume. We called to help you. It’s the Lord’s way” she explained.
Denny and her mother worked endlessly to help William’s wounds mend quickly. They fed him, what little they had. They mended his torn clothing and he returned the pleasure by reading to them from the Bible and even attempted to teach them to read. Reading, you see, had been against the law.
Denny caught on quickly.
“You’re doing amazing!” William said, as she began to read a page from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.”
“This book is amazing!” she said. “I didn’t know stories like this existed.”
“Oh definitely. Why at Margaret’s, there are so many books, it would astound you!”
“I believe I’d like to see those someday” she said.
The twinkle in her deep dark eyes melted his heart.
He smiled.
“What?” she asked; noticing the look on his face.
“You’re amazing!”
“You mean with the books?”
“Yes…a little. So eager… but its more than that; it’s you. You’re amazing!”
She blushed, feeling awkward.
“I mean it. You are kind, sweet, gentle, inquisitive, undoubtably very smart, and insatiably beautiful!”
“What?” she bit her lip nervously.
“You are…”
“I didn’t think a white man would…”
“It has nothing to do with my being white or you being black. Fact is…you are stunning. Inside and out. Does my being white make you feel different?”
“Well…no. I can see you are handsome…”
“Thank you…” he smiled. “Looks wouldn’t matter at all if we were all blind.”
“Many are blind to the inside…” she suggested.
“Definitely…”
“I wish things weren’t so ‘black and white’…”
“Perhaps one day that will change…”
“It would be nice…wouldn’t it William?”
“Definitely!”
His rugged good looks made her smile. Green eyes and light skin were not known to her people as anything more than slave owners. William, however, was different.
“I don’t know what to say” she said.
“Don’t say anything…” he gently grabbed her face and pulled his lips to hers and gave them a tender kiss.
She reciprocated the kiss, but replied “Careful…what will people think?”
“I don’t care what people think. Never have!”
“That’s true” she snickered. Then she looked at his scar and stroked it gently. “You got this for my freedom…”
“I know there are many roads ahead yet, but we fight for what’s right. No matter what the cost!”
“Like freedom, right?”
“And love…”
She got quiet. She’d had feeling for him for a while now, but slapped herself for liking a white man. ‘It won’t work’, she told herself. She gulped. She didn’t say anything more, but when he grabber he shoulder and pulled her head until it touched his chest, she felt oddly ‘at home’.
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