Shifted By The Winds

by Ginny Dye

  “Carrie!” Her father half rose from his seat, his face flushed with anger. “I will not have—”

  Carrie stood. “I’m sorry, Father. I know I’m handling this badly. I shouldn’t have talked about it when I’m so tired. I’ve not said anything that isn’t the truth, but if I were you, I’m sure I would be feeling the same way you are right now.” She held him with her eyes, knowing he was feeling the same angry confusion she had felt when she first discovered the truth. “Biddy gave me permission to bring some of her books with me. You’re welcome to read them.”

  Carrie stepped back from the table. “I’m sorry to ruin a lovely evening. I’m going to my room now.”

  Silence followed her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Carrie was waiting on the window seat when Abby knocked. She had known her stepmother would come. As tired as she was, Carrie hadn’t been able to sleep because of everything thrashing around in her heart and mind. She’d had a moment of wondering if her father would seek her out, but she innately understood he would need time to process what he had heard. He would also be aware she needed Abby. “Come in,” she called as she pulled the blanket around her. The October night was cold, but she was too starved for Virginia air to close herself in. She held up another blanket for Abby and shifted her feet to make room.

  Abby snuggled into the blanket and leaned over to gaze up at the stars twinkling in the night sky. “It’s beautiful tonight.”

  “So I didn’t totally ruin it?” Carrie asked. “I realize my timing was bad.”

  “You were answering my question,” Abby replied. “I doubt there could have been good timing to share what you have learned about your heritage.”

  “No…” Carrie said, her head resting back against the wall so she could see the stars dancing between the blowing leaves.

  “Your father is downstairs reading.”

  Carrie straightened. “Really? I’m surprised.”

  “You think he doesn’t want to know the truth?”

  “I thought he would have needed more time before he delved in. I certainly did,” Carrie confessed. “I felt like my whole world had turned upside down when I learned about Oliver Cromwell.”

  “Did Biddy know who you were when she told you about him?”

  Carrie shook her head. “She knew me as Carrie Borden. The night of the fire was rather chaotic, and we hadn’t gotten around to complete introductions yet. We seemed to dive right into intense conversation when we asked her to share her story. Not that my maiden name would have revealed anything. There are plenty of Cromwells in America.” She paused, remembering. “More than anything, I think she regretted dumping it on me.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Abby replied, reaching out to touch Carrie’s leg. “You seem to be taking it very personally.”

  “I suppose I am,” Carrie admitted. “I’ve told myself I’m not responsible for what happened hundreds of years ago, and I know that to be true, but…”

  “But?” Abby prompted.

  “I don’t feel responsible for the past,” Carrie said, “but I do feel I discovered the truth because I’m meant to do something with the present, and hopefully impact the future.” She had read the Bregdan Principle every day she had been in Moyamensing. Every time she read it, her desire to know her life mattered in a positive way intensified.

  “That’s a rather heavy burden,” Abby protested.

  “Sometimes,” Carrie murmured. “But then I think about all the people I saved in Moyamensing, and it feels like nothing but a privilege. The Irish have suffered so much because of Lord Cromwell. I feel privileged to be able to do something to begin to redeem the past.”

  “I’d say saving hundreds of their lives was more than just something,” Abby observed.

  “Not really,” Carrie said. “It doesn’t begin to undo the harm that was done.”

  “Tell me,” Abby invited. “Thomas is downstairs reading, but I will admit I know nothing about Oliver Cromwell. I remember reading his name somewhere in a book, but I am completely ignorant about the man.”

  Carrie scowled, grateful the darkness covered her expression. She had come to grips with the things she had learned, but it didn’t mean the knowledge didn’t still make her stomach queasy. “He was not a nice man,” she began. “He was, however, very powerful. He was the effective leader of England from 1653 to 1658. He was also a very devout Puritan.”

  “So he was extremely religious,” Abby murmured.

  “That would be putting it mildly. He believed everyone should lead their lives according to what is written in the Bible, but from what I can tell, he had his own interpretations of it,” she said. “Puritans believe pointless enjoyment should be frowned upon. The harder you work, the more likely you are to reach heaven. Lord Cromwell took this quite seriously. He shut down all theaters and many of the inns. Most sports were banned. Boys caught playing football on Sunday could be whipped as punishment. Swearing was punished by a fine, and those who kept at it were often sent to prison. You were not allowed to do any work on Sunday. Women were put in stocks if they were discovered doing unnecessary labor. Just going for a Sunday walk, unless you were going to church, resulted in a hefty fine.”

  “Oh my…” Abby said.

  “It gets worse,” Carrie continued. “To keep England’s mind on religion, instead of having their common feast days to celebrate the saints, one day in every month was a fast day. You couldn’t eat all day, though Lord Cromwell certainly did! He divided England into eleven areas. Each one was governed by a trusted major-general who had served under him in battle. He used soldiers to enforce his new laws.”

  “Seriously?” Abby gasped.

  “Women and girls had to dress in a proper manner,” Carrie said with disgust. “Make-up of any kind was banned. Colorful dresses were outlawed. Every female had to wear a long black dress that covered her from head to toe.”

  “I’ve seen them,” Abby confirmed. “They wear white aprons and have their hair bunched under a white headdress. Many Puritans came to America. In fact, it was Puritans who were the first to successfully settle Jamestown.”

  Carrie snorted. “Only if you use the term successful to describe people who were executed if they were not in church two times a day. As bad as it was under Lord Cromwell in England, it was much worse in America for those people. Most of Jamestown settlers weren’t Puritans. They were English who had been abducted from the streets and brought here to work the tobacco fields. They lived under very harsh conditions.”

  “I’m sure that is another story,” Abby replied, “but I’m afraid I don’t see—even as distasteful as everything you have told me is—how this relates to the Irish.”

  “I’m getting there,” Carrie assured her. “My ancestor had a hatred for all Catholics, but he seemed to reserve a special hatred for the Irish Catholics. He believed they were all potential traitors willing to help any Catholic nation that wanted to attack England, so he vowed to wipe them all out. He considered them less than human, calling them savages to justify their murder.”

  “No,” Abby whispered.

  “Yes,” Carrie answered. “Lord Cromwell sent an army to Ireland. He demanded surrender, promising he would treat well the ones who did.” Her voice trembled as she revealed the next part. “Wexford and Drogheda surrendered. Cromwell had every person slaughtered.” Her voice caught. “That was just the beginning.”

  Abby clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “He used terror to tame the Irish. He ordered that all Irish children should be sent to the West Indies to work as slaves in the sugar plantations. Most of them died under the brutal conditions. He counted on that, because it meant they could never grow to adulthood and have more Irish children.” Carrie’s voice quivered. “He left a very dark stain on Ireland’s history. By the time he was done, hundreds of thousands of Irish had been killed or forced into indentured slavery in America or the West Indies. He had destroyed farms, burned buildings and crops, and killed every living
animal. Of course, he only started the ethnic cleansing in Ireland. The Irish were forced into slavery for at least another hundred years. Most of them came here to America.” She couldn’t see Abby’s face, but she knew her stepmother was staring at her with horror.

  Carrie pushed on, wanting to be done with her story. “Famine followed the war. Thousands of people remaining in the country starved to death. The Puritans, led by my ancestor, had only one goal—the total subjugation of Ireland. They were determined to destroy the Irish and replace them with Protestants from England and Scotland. They were quite willing to do whatever it took.” A long silence filled the room when she stopped speaking.

  “And the English loved Oliver Cromwell?” Abby finally asked, her voice thick with disbelief.

  “They did for quite a while,” Carrie corrected. “By the end of his life, the English people were sick of his control and strict rules. They hated him,” she said, finding some relief in that. What he had done was horrifying enough, but to believe an entire nation had blindly followed him and thought he was a great man had been almost more than she could bear. “At the end of his life in 1660, my sixth great-grandfather was buried with honors in Westminster Abbey. Even though the English people hated him, his soldiers were still quite loyal.”

  “What happened next?” Abby pressed. “Something tells me you’re not done yet.”

  “My fifth great-grandfather, Lord Cromwell’s son Richard, took over England, but it didn’t take long before people realized he wasn’t up for the task. King Charles had been beheaded in 1649. His son, King Charles II, who had been in exile since his father’s death, was asked to return to become king again. The new king was aware Lord Cromwell had been largely responsible for his father’s execution. One of his first orders was to have my ancestor”—Carrie couldn’t bring herself to identify Cromwell as her grandfather again—“dug up and put his body on trial for treason and regicide. His body was put on trial, found guilty, and symbolically hanged from a gallows. What was left of his body remains a mystery.”

  “What was left?” Abby asked hesitantly.

  “His head was put on display in London for many years,” Carrie answered in a flat, hard voice.

  Abby reached out to grasp her hand. “I know you’re angry, but you must have been horrified to learn all this.”

  Carrie grimaced. “That would be an understatement,” she growled. “But it also inspired me to do whatever I could to help the people of Moyamensing. It felt like such a tiny thing—especially as I learned more of who he truly was and what he had done—but it was something I could do. It was a start.”

  “What you did will reverberate through history,” Abby replied. “Just as Lord Cromwell’s actions will impact lives for eternity, so will yours. The Irish people you helped save will know that not everyone hates them, or believes they are somehow less human. Children will be born for generations to come from the people you saved.”

  “That is my hope,” Carrie said. “I can’t change what happened in the past…”

  “But you can help redeem it now, and change things for the future,” Abby finished.

  “Yes.” Carrie had known Abby would understand. “Do you think Father will be all right?”

  “Your father will be fine,” Abby said soothingly. “He will discover the truth, and then he will deal with it just as you have. Not knowing the truth does not change its reality. Knowing it, and accepting it, can change history. Your father has had his world turned upside down quite a bit in the last years. I’m sure he’s up to one more.”

  “I’m glad I found out,” Carrie said, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body while enjoying the cold breeze on her face.

  “Are you? Why?”

  “If I hadn’t found out, I wouldn’t have cared about the people of Moyamensing,” Carrie replied, groping for words as she spoke. “If I hadn’t cared, I wouldn’t have gone to the cholera hospital and seen what was happening there. If I hadn’t witnessed all those people dying, I wouldn’t have gone to the Homeopathic College. I wouldn’t have discovered the remedies that helped save so many, and I wouldn’t have discovered homeopathy. I wouldn’t have quit medical school.” The truth washed through her in a tidal wave that brought unexpected comfort.

  “All the pieces come together in time,” Abby said.

  “Yes, I’m learning that more and more. There are times I think things that happen are isolated events. But then I discover that each one is simply a piece in a much bigger picture. Sometimes it takes a long time to see it, but everything always fits somewhere.”

  “Nothing is ever wasted,” Abby said gently.

  “Exactly!” Carrie said. “Everything I learned with Sarah is part of the picture. Everything I learned at Chimborazo is part of the picture. Everything I learned at the Female Medical College is part of the picture…”

  “So you don’t feel these last months have been wasted?” Abby asked.

  Carrie laughed. “Weren’t you the one who just told me nothing is ever wasted?”

  “I did,” Abby agreed. “But you do realize starting over is going to mean more time away from Robert. How are you with that?”

  Carrie fell silent, her heart once more feeling like a massive boulder in her chest.

  “Carrie?”

  “I don’t know what to do with how I feel,” she admitted. “If I had my way, I would go home to Robert and the plantation and never leave. I miss him so much my heart hurts. I miss the plantation more than I can express. I feel like I’m missing so much, but…” Her voice faltered into silence again.

  “But?” Abby prompted.

  Carrie shrugged helplessly. “That’s the problem. I just don’t know. I can’t be a doctor if I don’t go back to school, but the idea of getting on that train and returning to Philadelphia in ten days is almost more than I can bear.”

  “Then put it out of your mind,” Abby advised.

  “Easier said than done,” Carrie muttered.

  “I didn’t say it was easy,” Abby responded, suddenly sounding very much like the mentor who had helped her through so many challenging moments. “You can spend all your time here dreading what will come in ten days, or you can simply choose to make the most of every moment here.” Her voice softened. “The future is going to come. You will figure it out as it unfolds. You will be given the grace and strength to walk every step you are given to walk.”

  Carrie listened closely and then leaned forward to wrap Abby in a tight embrace. “How did I ever live my life before I had you?” she whispered.

  “It must have been difficult,” Abby teased, clasping her close. “I certainly have no idea how I lived without you as my daughter. Next to your father, you are the greatest gift I have ever been given. Sometimes I feel woefully inadequate, but then I have to trust my love will be enough.”

  Carrie sighed as she rested her head on Abby’s shoulder. Long minutes passed as the two women sat quietly, letting their hearts speak the love between them.

  Abby finally stood. “It’s time for you to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning is coming much too quickly. I don’t want Robert to think we kept you up all night. I’m sure he would rather you not collapse from exhaustion when you see him.” She stood, walked Carrie to the bed, waited until she had crawled under the covers, and then tucked her in. “I’ve always wanted to do that for a daughter,” she said softly. She leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, Carrie. Sleep well.”

  Wrapped in Abby’s warm love, Carrie was asleep before her stepmother slipped from the room.

  Robert paced back and forth in the woods, his ears straining for the sound of an approaching carriage, but all he heard was the twitter of birds and the rustle of squirrels dashing through the trees. He sighed impatiently, smiling when Granite stomped his foot and snorted his agreement. “She’s coming, old man,” he promised, his smile turning to a laugh when Granite’s response was to toss his head and snort more loudly. Juniper, the mare he had chosen to ride so he could gi
ve her more training, just stared at him placidly. She seemed perfectly content to be tied in the middle of the woods on the edge of the road. She stared at Granite for a moment, and then closed her eyes and flicked her tail.

  Robert continued his conversation with Granite. “I don’t have any way of knowing exactly when Carrie will be here, but in Thomas’ last letter he said they would be here in early afternoon.” Granite’s eyes widened. “Yes, I know that provides rather a large window to wait here in the woods, but it will be worth it when we surprise her. We’ve already been here two hours. Certainly it can’t be that much longer.”

  Granite suddenly lifted his head to attention, his ears flicking forward as he turned to stare down the road. Robert quit pacing and sprang forward to peer from behind the thick brush. He couldn’t hear anything yet, but he trusted Granite. “Be quiet, old man,” he whispered as he lay his hand on the big Thoroughbred’s neck. Granite remained alert, but stayed silent. Robert hoped it was Carrie and the rest, but he also knew it could be anyone, including vigilantes. It had taken him a while to grasp that he was in as much danger—possibly more—than Moses, Rose and the rest, but they had finally convinced him to be careful. He tightened his grip on his pistol and kept his eyes glued to the road.

  When the carriage finally rounded the curve, he let out a relieved laugh, untied both horses, and leapt into Juniper’s saddle. He waited until the carriage was less than a hundred feet away before he stepped out onto the road, leading Granite by his bridle. He saw the driver stiffen and reach for his sidearm, but at the exact same moment Carrie’s cry split the air.

  “Robert! Robert!”

  Robert raised his hand and started laughing as Carrie jumped up on the carriage seat, waving wildly as the driver slowed and then stopped the carriage. He vaulted down and was waiting when she ran into his arms. “Carrie,” he whispered, crushing her to him. He had missed her every single moment, but having her in his arms made him question how he had survived it. He buried his face in her soft black hair and breathed in her scent. “Welcome home,” he murmured.