Jewel of Promise

by Marian Wells

  “Let’s sit down and watch the birds and squirrels,” Olivia murmured, pointing to the park bench.

  “Then if a person keeps these commandments he’ll go to heaven?”

  In a rush of words, Olivia asked, “Beth, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beth admitted. “In Pennsylvania I kept hearing the same thing. Even Mike said it, but what does it mean?”

  “To become a child of God. We can’t belong to God or even enjoy being in His company until we’ve done something about the selfishness in our lives. I know this for a fact. I had to face it in myself. But there’s nothing we humans can do to be righteous.”

  “I don’t understand,” Beth murmured. “Since we’ve done the sinning, it seems we ought to be the ones coming forward and doing something about it.”

  “But what could we do?”

  “It would have to be something significant, wouldn’t it?”

  “God is holy,” Olivia said slowly. “And we are His willful, disobedient children. Did you know those Old Testament men were afraid of God? When Moses was up on the mountain getting the law, the Israelites were nearly frightened to death. They knew they were sinful and unworthy, and they knew God knew it, too!”

  “Olivia, it’s terrible just listening to you! I don’t like talking this way.”

  “Beth, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to say that God working through Jesus Christ is reconciling the world to himself, forgiving our sins. Only Jesus could do anything about our record of sin; nothing we do could ever be good enough. And all we have to do is be willing to accept the sacrifice Jesus made for us.”

  Beth stood up suddenly. “It’s getting very late, Olivia. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

  Olivia got up. “Beth, I accepted that gift of salvation. Looking back at the difference that step made, the joy and happiness I gained through getting to know God, I tremble to think how terrible this past year would have been without the Lord to help me.”

  Beth led the way out of the park. She turned to Olivia. Stiffly she said, “Thank you for explaining it all to me.”

  “Beth, it takes more than knowing about it. You have to let Jesus Christ be your Savior, too.”

  She hesitated. “Please come see me again.”

  “I will, Beth. I promise.”

  As Beth walked slowly back to Cynthia’s house, she was busy thinking of her new life. The vision of velvet and diamonds was sharp and clear in her mind. And Mike…her stomach knotted as she recalled his face, his serious eyes, his gentle kisses. She shivered, exclaiming, “Thank God that wedding didn’t happen!” Then she quickened her steps, wondering why his name still brought a lump to her throat.

  Chapter 34

  “Crystal, is my collar awry? You’re looking as if—”

  She smiled. “I’m filling my eyes and mind with you. Oh, Matthew, beg me to stay, and I will without regret.”

  “My dear!” He put his arms around her and looked into her face. “You know I wouldn’t ask that. You need to visit your parents. If I hadn’t felt the urgency of getting into the army, I’d have gone with you.” He tried to grin as he added, “It would be easy to persuade me I’m failing you by not going.” She silenced him with a kiss.

  “It’s just,” she whispered, “after being separated for so long, I can hardly bear more.”

  “Crystal, I’ve been thinking the same.” He pressed his lips to her temple, “I’ll be moving out of here soon. Probably south. So we’d be separated even if you were to stay.”

  “Do you think of—what might happen?”

  “All the time. But I’m learning to trust God. I’ll come through this if it’s His will. Crystal, you know how I love you, and how I value the time we’ve had together.”

  She nodded against his chest. “Matthew, we’ve talked about this, and now if you say it again, we’ll both be crying. Remember, this separation is temporary.”

  “You’ll soon be back.” Matthew stroked Crystal’s face as he looked into her eyes. “Crystal, it would be easy to worry about what could happen to you.”

  “But you won’t.” She smiled at him. “You’ll trust the Lord to keep track of me. As soon as possible I’ll mail a letter to you. And I plan to return to Pennsylvania by June.” She moved away from him and picked up her hat. “If only I could have gone to New Orleans in February!”

  Matthew shook his head. “With the newspapers accounts of General Butler’s difficulties in the city, I’m glad you weren’t there. Life seems nearly back to normal, if the newspapers can be trusted.” He held her coat for her, kissed her again, and said, “We must go now.”

  “A strange journey it will be,” she murmured taking his arm. “Traveling by train from Washington to Alexandria and then to Richmond. I’ll be wise to keep my eyes open and my mouth shut—at least long enough to get me on a train heading west. I didn’t dream it would be so difficult to travel.”

  ****

  After Crystal boarded the train, she watched Matthew from the window until she could no longer see him. With a sigh, she settled into her seat and looked around. A woman across the aisle nodded over her knitting, saying, “The situation these days makes you wonder about traveling, doesn’t it? Going far?”

  “Yes.” Crystal hesitated and asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Richmond. My children and grandchildren are there. I try to take the train down every spring before the weather is unbearably hot. War or no war, I intend to go. And you?”

  Crystal took a deep breath. “New Orleans.”

  The woman pushed her spectacles higher on her nose and stared at Crystal. “Alone? Seems to me that’s a risky trip.”

  “What can possibly be risky? Surely they take good care of their passengers.”

  “Well, I suppose. But you’ve heard about the Yankees tearing up track and such.”

  “No.”

  “Well, they do. Then when they get it loose, they shove logs underneath one side of the rails. When the train hits those rails at a slant, over it goes.”

  Crystal watched the shiny steel needles fly in and out of the soft yarn. “Maybe I’ll just go as far south as I can before traveling west,” she said.

  “Maybe you’ll just go where they send you. Some of the lines aren’t that dependable.” She glanced over her knitting, took several more stitches, looked at Crystal, and said, “I’m Clary Hamilton Trent. From the Richmond Hamiltons. My family goes back to the earliest settlers. I assume you are Creole.”

  Crystal hesitated. “Yes, my mother and father are of French descent. Their great-grandparents came before the Revolutionary War.”

  “My, what a diversified society we have!” Mrs. Trent murmured. “Now with the immigrants from Ireland and western Europe, soon we’ll have absolutely no real identity.” She gave Crystal a curious glance.

  By the time the train reached the outskirts of Richmond, both Crystal and Mrs. Trent were peering out the window. “Look at the masses and masses of people!” Mrs. Trent gasped. “I’d heard many are fleeing the fighting and moving into Richmond, but I didn’t expect to see this. It’s a wonder the city can hold them all.”

  “It does seem crowded. Somehow it makes the war seem even more tragic.”

  As soon as Crystal left the coach, she entered the depot and inquired about a New Orleans-bound train. She listened to the ticket agent with dismay. “You mean I’ll need to wait until next week?”

  With a tired sigh the man shoved his cap back and said, “Lady, troop movement has top priority.”

  With a shrug of resignation, Crystal took a room at the hotel across the street. Days stretched into weeks and then extended even more. It was well into April before civilians were allowed travel reservations.

  ****

  When she finally left Richmond, Crystal traveled for days. At one stop Crystal left the coach, looked around the bleak depot, and turned to survey the train with distaste.

  It
’s like a wild creature, she thought, looking at its black sides quivering, steaming, and belching. She glanced down at her clothes stained with soot. Her head throbbed.

  She saw the conductor and hurried toward him. “Sir, why must I keep changing trains?” He cupped his hand to his ear. Fighting to keep her voice calm, Crystal cried, “I’ve transferred three times since leaving Richmond. I traveled nearly to Atlanta, swung north, and now I’m in Tennessee.”

  “Ma’am,” the conductor roared, “these trains are all different. Their wheels don’t fit on each other’s tracks. Now, they call this train narrow gauge. You left Richmond on narrow gauge, switched to a different rail at the junction, and now you’re back to narrow. Come tomorrow about noon, we’ll be on the Nashville line, and after that you’ll transfer to the Jackson-New Orleans line, which is different yet.”

  With a nod and a sigh, Crystal picked up her valise. He called after her. “No matter what, ma’am, you’ll have to travel this way to get to New Orleans. That’s the way the train goes.”

  She nodded again and trudged toward the coach he pointed out. As she climbed aboard, she noticed that this train was different. Covertly she examined the occupants of the coach. There were few comfortable housewives. There didn’t seem to be any soldiers. Most of the people looked worn to the bone, sunken into themselves like shuttered windows. From the number of bags around them, she guessed them to be part of the multitude she had seen in Richmond—those fleeing the war-ravaged areas.

  As she looked around, she modified her first impression. The man coming toward her was obviously a soldier in civilian clothing. She eyed him cautiously. His grin was too friendly, and his right arm was in a sling. The train was still gathering speed, moving with jerks and bumps, when he sat down beside her. His eyes were frank, appraising. “Mind if I sit here?”

  Crystal noted the number of vacant seats scattered around the car. She tipped her chin upward. “I’m certain you’ll sit where you wish, but I do believe you’d find more congenial seatmates among the men.”

  “I doubt it.” With a smile very near a leer, he sat down. “I’ve just come from Fredericksburg. Was banged up a bit, and I’m going home to recuperate.”

  She nodded. Opening her newspaper, she said, “I wish you well.”

  “Better off than them Yanks. We bested them again. Don’t know why they don’t just go home and stay there.” She kept her eyes fixed on the newspaper. “Where ya going?”

  “To visit my parents.”

  “Where?”

  She sighed. “New Orleans.”

  “Better stay out of there. I understand Butler’s out to ruin all the pretty little ladies.”

  “I’ve heard that misconstrued report,” she said coldly. “He’s no longer in New Orleans.” She turned the page.

  “New Orleans? I’d a guessed you a nigger instead of a Creole—not that it makes much difference.”

  She looked at him coldly. “Excuse me, sir. I think you’d better leave.” She rose and waited for him to move.

  “Ma’am, I beg your pardon.” Crystal looked up to see an older gentleman bowing toward her. “I must apologize for my fellow Southerner. He seems to have associated too closely with those he has been fighting. Obviously he’s forgotten his manners.” He turned to address Crystal’s seatmate. “Sir, you shall remove yourself immediately.”

  The soldier jutted his chin at the man addressing him. “Since when are we to treat them as equals?”

  “You treated the lady as an equal when you sat beside her. I recommend that you continue to do so.” The soldier slowly started down the aisle.

  “Thank you, sir.” As Crystal returned to her seat, she noticed the woman traveling with her benefactor. Her eyes were cold, and she turned away without acknowledging Crystal’s presence.

  It’s finally begun, she thought miserably. Matthew’s built me up until I really believed I am as worthy as they. I wish Matthew were here! As the thought was born, she felt a gentle nudge in her heart and smiled. I’m sorry, Father; having once begun, I’ll continue to believe You love me too, just as much as You love that beautiful white woman and her courteous husband.

  When Crystal purchased the ticket for the Mobile-Ohio railroad line, the ticket agent produced a map and marked the route. “You’ve made a long trip,” he admitted, “but it has been to your advantage. This section in Georgia is in disrepair. Your trip has been long, but it has been safe.

  “Now you’ll need to transfer to the New Orleans-Jackson line at Jackson, Mississippi. With this transfer you’ll be making the last change.” He smiled at her obvious relief.

  With a nod she took her ticket and hurried to the train. As Crystal entered the coach, she sensed tension in the atmosphere. Nearly all of the men were in uniform. The low conversation, serious faces, and watchful expressions made her uneasy.

  Mid-afternoon the train arrived in Macon, Mississippi. It seemed to Crystal that the town was deserted with the exception of small groups of soldiers positioned along the streets near the railroad station. When the train ground to a stop, some of the soldiers left the coach. Another group of soldiers loped toward the train.

  Crystal leaned forward. The men met nearly under her window. She watched them gesture toward the telegraph lines. One soldier knelt in the dust and drew diagrams with his finger while the others bent over him. When he stood, he pointed toward the engine, glanced at his watch, and backed away. The steam engine began to quiver; its bell clanged.

  The granite-faced men returned to the coach and sat down. Crystal heard the murmur of their voices, and picked up the book in her lap.

  Later, when the train slowed nearly to a crawl and began to curve westward, she put away her book and leaned against the window. The Mississippi landscape of pines, dense thickets, and scattered bogs moved past the window. Trails, nearly overgrown with fern and marsh grasses crisscrossed the ground close to the tracks.

  Just as she noticed the trails, the train stopped. Horsemen wearing Confederate uniforms broke out of the trees. Crystal’s hands tightened in her lap as she watched three of the men dismount. The soldiers who had boarded the train at Macon beckoned to them.

  Conversation came to her in scattered words. “Don’t risk it.” “Supplies, guns.” “Can’t chance losing it.” “His gang is headed south.” “Not Jackson, too risky.”

  The horsemen left. One of the soldiers stepped into the aisle. Crystal saw the gold braid on his shoulders. “Ladies and gentlemen—” He spoke with an authority that made Crystal shiver. “I regret the necessity of having to do this, but because of a band of desperadoes, namely Union raiders, we are taking immediate, defensive action. I’m canceling our scheduled stops; we’re heading straight into Vicksburg. The natural fortifications of the city are nearly impregnable.”

  “Sir,” Crystal cried desperately, “I must transfer at Jackson. I have to go to New Orleans; my mother is ill.”

  “Ma’am,” he advised her, “today you aren’t going that way. These Union raiders are none too careful about whose lives they disrupt. They’ve destroyed warehouses loaded with supplies and carloads of ammunition, and they are passing this way, headed south. We’ll be hard pressed to get this train over the last bridge before they take it out, too. Ma’am, we’ll work at getting you out of Vicksburg and into New Orleans when they’ve left the territory, but right now it isn’t safe.” He gave her a thin smile and sat down.

  The train began moving, gathering speed until the coach rocked. Crystal clenched the arms of her seat and watched billows of dark smoke sweep past her window. The depot at Jackson appeared and retreated in a blur of faces and buildings. They thundered past a train waiting at the station. Guessing it to be the train she should have taken, Crystal bit her lip and thought, What irony! I slip across Southern borders and become a victim of the army my husband serves.

  It was dark when they reached Vicksburg. Weak with relief, Crystal stepped out of the train into the mist swirling inland from the Mississippi River. Carrying
her valise, she trudged wearily down the street to the nearest hotel.

  “Read all about it! Grant retreats to Memphis!” A young boy cried, hawking his papers. Crystal shoved coins at the boy and took the newspaper.

  Inside the hotel, the man behind the desk smiled at her. “You’ve come for the ball?”

  “I didn’t know there was a ball,” she murmured. “My train has been delayed, and I need accommodations until I can leave Vicksburg.” He picked up the pen and hesitated, looking from her face to her traveling costume. “I’m from New Orleans,” Crystal explained carefully, feeling tears burn her eyes. “I must return home to see my parents.”

  “I understand,” he murmured, pulling forward the guest register. As she followed the porter, she thought, He understands I am Creole, not nigger.

  After dinner in the hotel dining room, Crystal returned to her room to read the newspaper. Halfway down the hallway she met the maid. “Good evening,” Crystal nodded to her.

  “Ma’am, will you be wanting assistance? Have you a ball gown to be freshened?” The black woman waited.

  “Ball gown? Oh, I do remember the clerk mentioning a party. Tell me about it.”

  “Downstairs, starts in another hour. Gonna be a fancy affair, with dancing.” A shadow crossed her face as she added, “Celebrating Grant being pushed back. If you want, I’ll take a frock for you.”

  “I don’t plan to attend,” Crystal said. “But it would be nice to have some of the wrinkles removed from my clothing. Yes, come with me.”

  After the maid had left, her arms loaded with dresses, Crystal found the Vicksburg Whig and sat down to peruse the newspaper.

  “Oh, this is terrible,” she murmured. “Gunboats! Mike Clancy was probably with them; I wonder what has happened to him?”

  She read the article aloud. “‘We have cause to rejoice today. After tolerating the Union’s ineffectual jabbing at the glorious city of Vicksburg for the past ten months, tonight we celebrate with a ball in the grand ballroom. General Grant has withdrawn his army. Reports are that he has retreated to Memphis. Apparently the enemy’s gunboats are all more or less damaged. It is not surprising to hear the Yankees are demoralized and dissatisfied. Shall we promise them, upon taking the suitable pledge, employment with the winning side? Certainly they offer us no terrors now.’”