Touching the Sky

by Tracie Peterson

  Carissa accepted the lie as easily as she had accepted his others. “I see. Well, I certainly hope they won’t dock you in pay. After all, good work should be rewarded.”

  “I’m sure that’s what they meant to do by giving us time off,” Malcolm said, barely keeping his temper in check. “So if I were you, I wouldn’t worry my pretty little head about whether there will be a smaller paycheck. Haven’t I provided well for you?”

  He hadn’t, but it didn’t hurt to suggest that he had. Even if her parents had purchased the house and most of its furnishings, Malcolm put food on the table. She couldn’t fault him for that.

  “I suppose you have.”

  Her simple statement irked Malcolm, but he didn’t have time to deal with her. “I won’t be back until late. Maybe you should take that time to practice cooking and knitting.”

  “That reminds me of two things,” Carissa said quickly. “One is that I wondered when we might hire some help. Nothing too fancy—maybe a cook and a housekeeper.”

  “You’re the cook and housekeeper,” he said, losing his patience. “That’s what God intended you to do, along with pleasing me. And what would please me just now is for you to stop complainin’ about hired help.”

  “Well then, I wonder if we might set plans into motion for our first dinner party.”

  He looked at her and shook his head. “A minute ago you were worried about whether the mill was going to dock my pay, and now you want to spend money to hire servants and throw an elaborate party?”

  “Not elaborate. Just something simple. It’s expected, and if you want to stay in the good graces of society . . . well . . . it’s just one of those things that must be done.”

  Malcolm frowned. He’d never known much about society. Having been raised solely by his father, Malcolm had avoided such matters. It was only by happenstance that he had found himself marrying Carissa Marquardt from one of Corpus Christi’s finer families. The money and connections her family afforded him were too great to pass by. Why her parents had ever agreed to allow them to court and eventually marry was beyond him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that Carissa was a spoiled brat. Even now she was pouting.

  “If we do not host a dinner to show everyone how happy we are,” Carissa continued, “people will talk.”

  “Let them,” he said, closing the latches on the satchel. “Our happiness is none of their business.”

  Carissa shook her head. “I realize you aren’t from . . . the city, but in society this is the way things are done. To breech that etiquette will bring unwanted attention. If we avoid socializing for much longer, the pastor will feel it necessary to pay us a visit.”

  Malcolm scowled. “I won’t be dictated to by your social circles.” But in truth, he needed those irritating people in order to move about freely and gain information. He softened his expression. “But if you want a dinner party, then I will allow for it.”

  She smiled and rushed into his arms. “Thank you. I’ll be very careful with the expenses. Perhaps Mother would even help me.”

  He kissed her hard, then put her away from him. “I need to go. I have things to tend to.”

  “But when will you return?”

  “Carissa, we’ve gone over this before. I’m a man of business. You are my wife. You have no right to challenge my authority.” He narrowed his eyes. “Now stop pestering me or . . .” He let the words trail off. She knew good and well that his temper could get the best of him.

  She hugged her arms to her breasts. “You’ve changed. You aren’t the same man who courted me.”

  He laughed in a harsh manner and pushed past her. “I’ve always been this man, Carissa. You just never bothered to notice. You were too busy batting your eyes and playing upon my manly nature.” Pausing at the door, Malcolm turned and met his wife’s disappointed expression.

  “The sooner you come to understand, the better. I’m a man of opportunity. Now that the war is over, there are a great many opportunities that demand my attention. Stay out of my business, or suffer the consequences.”

  Laura picked at her dinner and noticed that her mother and father were equally lost in thought. The house wasn’t the same without the vivacious Carissa to entertain them with her stories of whom she’d seen that day and what they were doing.

  Pushing back the half-eaten meal, Laura sighed. “What news is there from town, Father?”

  Her father looked up in surprise. “News? I could not say. I’ve been busy working to push through those plans for the dredging of the harbor channels.”

  It was a boring topic, but Laura thought it better than nothing at all. “And have the plans been approved?”

  “No,” her father replied. “There are still arguments about the best places to dig and the cost to do so. I continue to remind everyone from the mayor to the businessmen of this fair city that the sooner we have a more adequate shipping lane, the more money and commerce we can move in Corpus.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Laura said.

  “You would like to imagine it so,” her father said in disgust, “but it is far from the truth. As a Southern state, we are being punished, despite there being a fair number of Union supporters here who remained loyal.”

  Laura at last found interest in his comments. “Punished in what way?”

  “Funding and leadership, primarily. Texas wouldn’t have even joined the Union had it not been due to a desperate need for money and protection. The former more than the latter as far as most Texan men are concerned.

  “Now the government in Washington wants to force its authority on each of the rebellious states to drive home a point of subjugation. We haven’t even been formally allowed to rejoin the Union. God alone knows when sound judgment will prevail in Washington.”

  “Goodness, Stanley, must we talk of such things?” Mother said, motioning for the maid to clear the table.

  “Well, it seems we must,” he replied. “The days to come are going to be grim if people do not learn to put aside their anger. It’s not just a matter of Union and Confederate; it’s arguments over Protestant and Catholic, black and white, Mexican and Indian. Not to mention that there is a push to populate this state with those who would just as soon return to the days of the Texas Republic. If we don’t find a way to unite in our efforts and stand together as an American state, I fear we may well find ourselves fighting yet another war.”

  “Oh, surely not,” Mother said. “So much destruction has already been done. So many of our gallant lads have died or suffered horrible wounds.” She shuddered. “I simply cannot speak on this subject anymore.” She started to rise and Laura’s father went quickly to assist her. “I will bid you both good evening. I believe I will retire early to my rooms. I feel a headache coming on.”

  “Good night, Mother,” Laura said.

  Father kissed Mother on her cheek and whispered something Laura couldn’t hear. She hoped her father would sit again so that she might speak to him about her brother-in-law. She wanted to see if he might share any of her concerns.

  Settling back in his chair, Father peered down at his empty coffee cup.

  “I can pour you another cup,” Laura said, getting to her feet. “I was hoping you might spend a few more minutes in my company. I must admit that I miss the long talks we used to have during the war. You always made me feel so safe. . . .” She retrieved the silver pot. “So safe and at peace. I knew that while the world had gone mad outside our walls, inside things remained much the same.”

  Laura poured the coffee and returned the pot to the sideboard. “You have always had a gentle spirit, Father. I love that about you. You care about the people around you, no matter the color of their skin or the view of their politics. I suppose that’s why I’ve always enjoyed our talks. You’ve helped me to think and evaluate the world in a way that so many of my friends could not.”

  “You’ve a quick mind, Laura. It’s not often appreciated in a woman, but I find it quite valuable.”

  “Thank you, Fath
er. Brandon Reid has said much the same.”

  Her father’s expression turned serious. “You have spent a good deal of time in his company.”

  Laura nodded. “I have.”

  “Has he spoken to you of marriage?”

  She was stunned at this bold question. “No. Has he spoken to you?”

  Her father chuckled. “No, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

  “I can tell his affections for me are growing. I see a certain look in his eyes—a gentleness in his mannerisms.” Laura’s thoughts drifted.

  “Ah, then it is mutual love.”

  She turned to her father. “Why do you say that?”

  “I see a certain look in your eyes. It isn’t one that is easily concealed. My guess is that you have lost your heart to this young man.”

  She nodded, feeling rather sheepish. “I suppose I have.”

  “And if he were to ask for your hand . . . you would want me to give my blessing?”

  She smiled. “I would.”

  “Have you considered that such a thing might take you from Texas?” her father asked in a gentle manner.

  It was the one thing Laura didn’t like to think about. She longed to see other parts of the country, even the world, but she had no desire to leave Texas permanently. “I suppose I haven’t dwelled for long on that possibility. Since Brandon has said nothing of making our courtship permanent, I suppose I have avoided such thoughts.”

  “Still, it is something that must be considered. He’s from Indiana, and his family still hails from that state. It seems likely he would want to return. Especially now that he has resigned from his position in the army.”

  Laura thought of the situation with Malcolm. “Do you think that Carissa is happy?” she asked without meaning to.

  Her father grew thoughtful. “I suppose you are wondering if she’s happy because she married a Texan rather than someone from another part of the country.” Laura said nothing and he continued. “I would imagine she’s happy for such a choice. Although Malcolm is from the western reaches of the state, I believe he intends to remain in Corpus Christi.”

  “What makes you suppose that?” Laura asked, trying to sound only slightly interested.

  “Well, he has asked a great many of my friends—Union men—as to how he might show his support. He wants to put the war behind him and get involved in businesses that will benefit the state—even the country. I admire his desire to do so. He could be bitter like many of his former ranks, but Malcolm wants something more.”

  Laura frowned and lowered her head to give a slight cough. She didn’t want her father to see her reaction. Malcolm wanted something more—of this she had no doubt. Unfortunately that something more involved murder and destruction.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” her father said, getting to his feet, “I have some reports to read before I retire.”

  “I understand,” Laura replied. “I love you, Father. I hope you will always remember that, no matter whom I marry or where I go. You were the first man I loved, and you will always hold that special place in my heart.” She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  16

  Laura accompanied Esther to the poorest part of town and barely managed to hide her frown as Esther pointed to the shack that was her home. “My boys be in there awaitin’. I’s mighty happy ya comed to teach ’em to read.”

  “Everyone should have that opportunity,” Laura said, trying not to reveal her distress over the conditions of the neighborhood. All around her garbage and animals littered the streets, while children of varying color played amid the debris.

  Esther pushed open the unpainted wood door to her home. Laura imagined it afforded only the tiniest amount of security. The wood was thin and construction was poorer than any Laura had known. Inside the single room was a crude table by the window and two equally rough stools. A single chair was positioned by a small bed on the other side of the room.

  “Shem, Ham, you knows Miss Laura,” Esther said, pointing to her two boys. “Shem, bring Miss Laura the chair.”

  Laura hadn’t seen the boys since they’d accompanied their mother during the summer to help with the gardening. The seven- and six-year-olds looked up at her in wide-eyed amazement. No doubt they had never seen a white woman in their house before. Shem hurried to do his mother’s bidding.

  “Your mother tells me that you would like to learn to read and write,” Laura said with a smile. “You two look smart, so I would imagine you will learn very fast. Just like your mama.”

  Shem, the older of the two, positioned the chair by the table. “Ya’s gonna teach us for sure?” His voice held an awe that made Laura smile.

  “Well, many schools have men for their schoolmasters, but I’m hoping you won’t mind having a lady teacher. I love to read, and I think you will love it, as well.” She took a seat and put her satchel on the table.

  Ham scooted off an old wooden crate and came to where Laura stood. Light filtered in from the single opening where a window should have been. “You is pretty, Miss Laura.” He reached up as if to touch her hand, then drew back as if remembering such a thing was forbidden.

  Laura would have no part of it. She reached out her hand and waited until the boy placed his tiny brown fingers in her palm. She smiled and closed her fingers over his. “I thank you for the compliment. Come, let’s get to work.”

  Esther seemed far more at ease here in her own home than in the Marquardt kitchen. Studying at her own table, despite its deplorable condition, seemed to help Esther focus on her work.

  She smiled at her boys. “Y’all do ever’thin’ Miss Laura say, and she teach ya to read.”

  Two days before, Esther had approached Laura regarding her boys. Laura was pleased; Esther had proven herself a capable student and Laura hoped that as Esther continued to learn she could in turn teach her children. But for now, Laura was delighted Esther trusted her to instruct her sons. It fed Laura’s desire to go among the blacks and teach, though her mother and father would no doubt disapprove.

  “George Davies say no black boy can learn to read. It against the law,” Shem declared.

  Laura looked to Esther. The older woman shook her head. “George Davies be a no-account white trash boy. He mean as an ol’ cracker.” She seemed to be embarrassed by her words and lowered her face. “Pardon, Miss Laura.”

  Laura had heard the term cracker before. It referenced the whip-cracking slave owners who often beat their slaves into submission. “That’s quite all right, Esther.” Laura opened her satchel and drew out two slate boards and chalk. “I brought these for you two to use. Your mama already has one, so now you can practice your letters, as well.”

  The boys looked in wide-eyed amazement as Laura handed over the gifts.

  “What ya say?” Esther prompted.

  “Thank ya, Miss Laura,” the boys replied in unison.

  “You are very welcome. I want you to forget all about the things that other people have said to you. You are smart boys—I can tell.” She picked up a piece of chalk. “Now I want to show you how to make the letter A.”

  At the end of the hour, Laura packed up her things and got to her feet. “I’ll come again next Saturday,” she promised. “In the meantime, you boys keep practicing and don’t forget what you learned today. Try to find things that you think start with an A or a B.”

  “Like apple?” the younger of the two boys asked.

  “She done tol’ us that,” Shem chided.

  “But he is right. Apple starts with A, and I’m proud of Ham for remembering that.”

  Esther headed for the door. “Ham, ya needs to find yar Sunday shirt so’s I can mend it. Shem, ya peel dem ’taters. I’s gonna walk Miss Laura back to her carriage.”

  The boys nodded and Laura threw them a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

  She stepped out of the clean but sparse house and into the sad little neighborhood. How she wished she could help the people there. The shantytown had been inhabited
mostly by poor whites and Mexicans prior to the war. Now more and more blacks were moving into the neighborhood. Laura knew that even with this hint at independence there were high prices to pay. If she understood correctly, the colored people—especially the men—were required to have a white sponsor in order to live and work. She’d heard her father discuss this in brief with Brandon and decided she would have to ask one or both for more information.

  “I’s mighty grateful for what yar doin’ for my boys,” Esther said as they walked. “Ain’t nobody since Miz Bryant what treated me so good.”

  “Mrs. Bryant was the woman you were working for here in Corpus Christi?” Laura asked.

  Esther nodded. “She and Mr. Bryant had theyselves a right fine plantation up around Austin way. They owned me and my Jonah since we was lil ’uns. They let us marry, and when I had babies Miz Bryant say we would always stay with ’em. Weren’t a lot of white folk that good.”

  Laura looked at Esther. “How did you make your way to Corpus Christi?”

  “Mr. Bryant, he died in the same epidemic what kilt my man and youngest boy. Miz Bryant sell the farm and freed the slaves, but she asked iffn me and the boys wanna come with her to Corpus Christi. We had nowhere else to go. Afore she die last April, she give me a little bit of money and tell me to go take care of my boys. It were hard, but I rented that little shack what ya saw and then did what I could to earn me some money. Then I come to work for yar family.”

  “I’m so glad you did.” Laura truly meant it. She knew her father was a generous employer. His kindness to those he employed generally resulted in workers who went above and beyond the mere requirements of their tasks.

  As they approached the safer reaches of town where Laura had left the buggy, she paused and looked at Esther. “I know life has not always treated you well, but you are doing a good thing for your boys and for yourself in learning to read. Your boys will find it much easier to get work if they have the ability to read and write. Perhaps they can even go on to college.”