by Ginny Dye
“That’s what they say, do they?”
Marietta, staring into Annie’s face, saw a glimmer of humor and appreciation. It gave her courage to press forward. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what they say. If I’m going to cook for Jeremy and the twins, I want my food to be as good as yours.” She hesitated briefly. “If you’re not going to teach me the right way, I’d rather not learn at all.”
Annie narrowed her eyes before releasing a deep chuckle. “I reckon you got more guts than any of the other women ‘round here.” She nodded her head. “I’ll teach you to cook, Miss Marietta, but you’s gonna do it my way, and there won’t be no back talkin’ or tellin’ me it ought to be done another way. This here be my kitchen. I better not be hearin’ ‘bout nothin’ you read in some book.” She cocked her head as her black eyes flashed. “You got that?”
Marietta shoved down her desire to dance around the kitchen. She settled for nodding her head, while she smiled so big she thought her face might split. “Yes, ma’am,” she said fervently. “I’ve got it.” Then she frowned. “The only thing I haven’t got is a lot of time. We’re leaving in a few weeks.”
Annie frowned. “Don’t be remindin’ me that you’s gonna be takin’ them babies away from here,” she snapped. She reached behind her, grabbed an apron and tossed it toward Marietta. “The thing you got goin’ for you is that this here house gonna be fillin’ up with folks for Christmas. They’s gonna be a lot of cookin’ goin’ on. And I got me a lot of cookin’ to do today so I’s can fill up the wagon headin’ over to Blackwell Plantation tomorrow. I ain’t no use in buildin’ them new barns, but I figure I can send lots of food. You can’t be leavin’ them babies for very long right now, so you’s can help me cook.”
Annie looked thoughtful as she walked over to a large closet at the back of the kitchen. “You ain’t the first Cromwell woman to have babies to tend while they be cookin’. Most times slave babies were kept down in the quarters while their mamas be in the kitchen, but there be times they’s got to be with their mama. When them times happened, I reckon they put them here in this crib while they be workin’.” She opened the closet and hauled out a large wooden crib.
Marietta gaped. “I never knew that was in there!”
Annie nodded with satisfaction. “It be just what you need for the twins. They can learn what real cookin’ ought to smell like from the very first,” she proclaimed.
Marietta laughed and clapped her hands. She donned the apron, twirled with delight, and then turned to Annie. “Jeremy has the twins for a little while. What can I do?”
“You can finish rolling out these biscuits,” Annie answered. “I want a round that is a half inch thick,” she ordered. “You’ll have to pat a little flour on the rolling pin, and maybe a little on the dough. Don’t push down real hard…just firm enough to roll it out or you’ll end up with tough biscuits.”
Marietta reached eagerly for the rolling pin.
Annie pulled it back, her eyes dancing. “Don’t you be messin’ up these here biscuits,” she warned. “I’ll come after you with this rollin’ pin iffen you do.”
“I promise,” Marietta said earnestly. “When I roll these out, will I cut them into biscuits?”
“Yep, but you’s gonna take one step at a time. Most folks get impatient. They be so eager to make it to the next step, that they mess up what they’s doin’. You just roll that out the way I tole you. Then I’ll show you how to cut them.” She smiled slightly. “When we done with that, we’s gonna make more dough. I gots to make a whole lot of biscuits!” She laughed as she handed Marietta the rolling pin.
Marietta took it carefully and turned to the counter. Annie had agreed to teach her how to cook! She was determined to do everything just the way she was told. She hummed happily as she envisioned the twins blasting in through the kitchen door in a few years, their eyes bright with excitement to discover what their mama had cooked. If she could keep her focus there, perhaps she could shove aside her other thoughts.
*****
Carrie savored the deep contentment she felt as she mucked out stalls. She had insisted Miles and Clint go over to Blackwell Plantation a day early, while she promised to help Susan and Amber with all the stable chores. She knew how much there was to be done at Blackwell in order to be ready for the horde of workers that would soon descend to build the barns burned by the vigilantes a month earlier. At least half the Cromwell men had already joined in efforts during the last weeks to scour the woods for rocks to build the massive foundations, and to cut trees to be planed into lumber.
Truth be told, Carrie enjoyed mucking out stalls. She had never been allowed to do any actual work in the stables as a young girl because it didn’t fit the image of a proper plantation owner’s daughter. She chuckled as she envisioned her mother’s expression if she could see Carrie now. The hard work kept her warm in the cold winter air, and she enjoyed the smells of the barn as she listened to the horses munch the grain she had given them earlier. It would be dark soon, and she knew Annie and Marietta were making a hearty beef stew. The very idea of it made her stomach growl.
Granite’s whinny alerted her to a presence in the barn a moment before a voice broke into the quiet. “Would you like a little help?”
Carrie narrowed her eyes as she leaned on her pitchfork handle to peer into the nearly dark barn. The lanterns provided enough light for mucking, but little else. “Anthony Wallington?”
“I’m glad you still recognize my voice after all this time.”
Carrie shook her head in disbelief as Anthony’s tall, slim frame materialized in the gloom. “What are you doing here? Should we have been expecting you?” She was surprised to discover how happy she was to see him.
“No,” Anthony assured her. “I got into Richmond a few days ago. Thomas and Abby invited me out for Christmas, but when I discovered what happened on Blackwell Plantation, I decided to come early to help with the barn raising tomorrow.”
“How wonderful!” Carrie said. “I don’t think it’s ever possible to have too many people when it comes to building a barn in a day—especially one the size of what burned on Blackwell.”
Anthony stepped closer. “I heard about the three men who were shot. How are they?”
Carrie grinned. “I sent them all home four days ago. A couple of them presented some problems with infection, but they’re fine now. They won’t be helping tomorrow, but they are well enough to order people around.”
“You can never have too much of that,” Anthony said, his green eyes dancing with fun under his sandy blond hair.
Carrie appraised him for a moment. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you, too,” Anthony said sincerely, his deep voice filling the barn. “You look wonderful.”
Carrie blushed under his warm scrutiny. They had corresponded before her New Mexico trip, but she hadn’t seen him since the previous fall. “Thank you,” she murmured. Feeling flustered, she stepped back and waved him toward the rack of pitchforks. “I only have two stalls to go, and then we can go inside out of the cold for dinner.”
Anthony grabbed one of the pitchforks. “I was in the house long enough to know something smells delicious. Let’s get this done.”
Silence reigned in the barn again as Carrie attacked the last stall. It disturbed her just how happy she was to see Anthony. She thought back to the day, more than a year ago, when he had offered his friendship, proclaiming that neither of them were ready to consider anything else because their losses were still too fresh. Anthony had lost his wife and small son during childbirth three years earlier. He had been hugely instrumental with helping her put together her trip to New Mexico, but it had all been done from a distance. She worked harder, unwilling to analyze what she was feeling at that moment.
The wind was picking up when Carrie and Anthony left the barn, latched the doors securely, and started toward the house.
“Glad to be home?” Anthony asked.
“Very glad,” Carrie said. “There are t
hings I miss about being on the Santa Fe Trail, but I’ll admit it’s nice to sleep in a warm bed every night.”
“I bet,” Anthony agreed, with the laugh she had come to associate with him.
“You’re here for Christmas?”
“Yes. Abby made it sound so wonderful I had to come see for myself.” Anthony glanced at her. “It wasn’t hard to convince me, however.”
Carrie understood the deeper meaning in his words, but didn’t comment on it. “How is business?” she asked, determined to keep the conversation on ground she felt comfortable with.
Anthony went along willingly. “It couldn’t be better. I could probably do nothing but sell Cromwell horses and make a good living, but the success I’ve had with your horses has opened the door to more business. Of course, it’s been a challenge to find horses of the same caliber to satisfy my clients.”
“Of course,” Carrie agreed smugly.
Anthony laughed and reached over to tuck her hand in his arm for the last hundred yards to the porch. Carrie stiffened, but didn’t pull away. They walked the remaining distance in silence. She drew a deep breath when they entered the warmth, surprised by feelings of both relief and disappointment.
“Anthony!”
Anthony strode into the parlor to greet Jeremy. “I would shake your hand, but both of yours seem rather full,” he said with amusement.
Carrie, watching him closely, saw the wistful look in his eyes. She understood. She loved the twins with all her heart, but she couldn’t see them without wondering what Bridget would have been like. Far too often, her emotions were bittersweet.
Jeremy grinned down at Sarah Rose and Marcus. “Besides the pure joy of holding my children, this is my contribution to Marietta becoming a great cook. I can assure you the sacrifice is worth it.”
“What?” Marietta’s eyes flashed as she entered the room. “Are you saying I wasn’t a great cook before?”
Jeremy cocked his head. “Can I get away with saying there was slight room for improvement?”
Marietta swatted at him as she rolled her eyes, and then gave Anthony a hug. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Anthony. May I offer you some advice?”
Anthony, his eyes bright with laughter, nodded. “Of course.”
“Never give your wife’s cooking anything but praise.”
Anthony was the one to cock his head now. “So…lying is preferable to the truth if it is less than flattering?”
Marietta burst into laughter. “I forgot you had eaten some of my first attempts at biscuits.” She reached for Sarah and pulled her daughter close. “I can promise you they are much better now.”
“I’m relieved,” Anthony said solemnly.
Carrie joined in the laughter, and then plucked Marcus from Jeremy’s arms. “My turn.”
Jeremy moved closer to the fire. “I thought you would be here next week with Thomas and Abby.”
“My plans changed when I found out what happened at Blackwell Plantation. I’m looking forward to helping tomorrow,” Anthony replied. “Have they found who did this?”
Jeremy looked grave. “No, and I’m sure they never will. The vigilantes all wore bandanas around their faces. A few of them had hoods.”
“Cowards!” Anthony growled.
“Cowards that are growing in number,” Jeremy said grimly. “They haven’t come on Cromwell or Blackwell again, but there have been reports of black homes being invaded. Men have been beaten. Women…” His voice trailed off.
“Women have been raped,” Marietta said angrily. “Even children have been hurt.” Her anger faded as fear shadowed her expression.
“We’re getting out of here, dear,” Jeremy reminded her.
“I know,” Marietta said with a heavy sigh. “And I know it’s the right thing to do, but I still hate that we are being separated from our family because our children won’t be safe. It’s wrong.”
“It is wrong,” Anthony agreed, “but you’re making the right decision.”
“I know,” Marietta repeated.
Carrie felt a surge of concern as she watched Marietta. Her blue eyes held a weariness she had never seen in her spirited friend. The same woman who had thumbed her nose at violence in Richmond because she was so determined to teach her black students, suddenly seemed defeated. She came to life in the kitchen, and Carrie knew Marietta was attempting to appear strong, but the light in her eyes was growing dim. Carrie’s concern grew as she thought of Marietta alone in the house with the twins during a Philadelphia winter, while Jeremy worked hard to take over management of Cromwell Factory. Marietta’s family was near Philadelphia, but winter forced most people to stay close to home.
“Why are you staring at me?” Marietta demanded.
Carrie blinked, not realizing Marietta had been aware of her scrutiny in the dim light. She pulled Marcus closer, breathing in the little baby scent that she loved so much. Suddenly, she knew what she needed to do. “I was thinking about asking you a question,” Carrie lied.
“Since when did you ever hesitate to ask me a question?”
Carrie was struck again by Marietta’s attempt to be spirited, while being weighed down with fatigue and fear. “Since I’m not sure it’s right to ask you and Jeremy if I can live with you while I’m in Philadelphia starting the clinic,” she retorted. Marietta would never agree to her plan if she thought it was just to take care of her. She was far too independent.
Marietta narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were living with Matthew and Janie.”
Carrie breathed a prayer for forgiveness as she lied again. “Matthew and Janie are just down the road,” she said casually, grateful for that reality. She wanted to be close to Janie for the last months of her pregnancy, but her instinct told her Marietta needed her more. “Their house is wonderful, but it’s much smaller than Abby’s. I’m afraid my staying there would be something of an imposition.” She paused, and then shrugged. “I thought it was at least worth asking. I’ll understand if it would be too much.”
“I would love it!” Marietta said enthusiastically. She looked toward Jeremy.
“Absolutely,” he agreed.
Carrie knew from the look in Jeremy’s eyes that he suspected what she was doing. She read nothing but glad gratitude. “Thank you!” she exclaimed. She held Marcus up to stare into his blue eyes. “You’re going to be stuck with me a while longer, little man.” She laughed when Marcus gurgled and batted his hands toward her.
“He’s as glad as I am,” Marietta declared. “It will be wonderful to have you there for a few months.”
Carrie was happy to see the haunted look was not so strong. Only then did she understand how Marietta really felt about going to Philadelphia. “You won’t be stuck with me all day,” she said lightly. “I’ll be working to start the clinic, but you’ll have to put up with me more than you’ll have to put up with Jeremy. At least until the factory is running smoothly again.”
“I suppose I’ll endure it,” Marietta replied with a dramatic sigh, her eyes dancing with genuine life again.
“It’s settled then,” Jeremy said.
“And dinner is ready,” Annie announced from the doorway.
When Carrie looked up and saw the approval in Annie’s eyes, she knew the woman had been standing there long enough to hear the exchange. In spite of her gruff exterior, she knew Moses’ mother had one of the biggest hearts she had ever known. Her approval always made Carrie feel good.
Carrie looked up and saw the light in Anthony’s eyes. The expression on his face revealed he knew her ulterior motives as well. She smiled at him brightly, and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm as she stood and went into the dining room. She was suddenly very, very glad that Anthony Wallington was on Cromwell Plantation.
*****
Carrie’s mouth dropped open in astonishment when they reached Blackwell Plantation that morning. They had left before dawn, determined to be there to begin work with everyone else. It was the everyone else that had her so astonished.<
br />
Leaving behind twenty of the Cromwell men to provide protection for the plantation, they still had almost seventy men with them, many of those from other plantations who had heard of the attack and wanted to help. Most of the women had stayed behind to care for the youngest children who were not in school, but there were still ten wagons full of food that had been prepared. Twenty wives had joined them to serve food to the workers.
All the Blackwell workers were present as well, but what really surprised Carrie were the fifty white men who had come to work. She realized all of them were parents of the schoolchildren, the same who had been watching the meteor shower the night Blackwell had been attacked.
Carrie dismounted from Granite and walked over to the group of men standing off to the side waiting for direction. “Good morning, Alvin.”
Alvin Williams smiled broadly. “Good morning, Miss Carrie. It’s going to be a fine day to build a barn,” he said cheerfully.
Carrie gazed at him, hardly able to remember the angry man she had met almost two years earlier when his wife, Amanda, had brought their two children to the clinic, gravely ill with pneumonia. “How are Silas and Violet?”
He bobbed his head. “Real good. They both are growing like weeds, and they’re getting smarter every day.” He chuckled. “They’re already smarter than their daddy!” he boasted.
“Lillian tells me you are in school, too,” Carrie said warmly. The confidence shining from his eyes made her almost forget the limp sleeve where an arm used to be, and the wooden peg protruding from one of his pant legs. He had lost both limbs during the war, but had managed to conquer the bitterness and depression that had threatened to consume him.
Alvin flushed slightly, but met her eyes evenly. “Miss Lillian convinced me the only way to make it in the New South is to get myself an education. She’s holding classes at night for the men so she can teach us what we need to know.” He shrugged. “I reckon I lived through that war for some reason. If I’m gonna make life better for my family, then I got to learn some things.”
