by Ginny Dye
Jeremy merely stared at her and turned back to Moses. “There has been too much hiding. Too much deception.” He drew a deep breath. “My father hid the truth for all my life. My mother hid the truth. The Cromwells hid the truth. The trouble is that the truth has a way of always coming out.”
He reached over, plucked a leaf from the magnolia tree, and twirled it between his fingers. “What would happen if I chose to live as a white man?” he asked. “I would have to deny who Rose is to me. I won’t do it. I also know that even if I marry a white woman, I have the chance of fathering a black baby. It would be totally unfair to hide that from someone I love.”
He tossed the leaf over the railing and watched as it settled onto the grass. “I will not be the cause of more deception. I am who I am. I am the son of a wonderful black slave named Sarah and a careless, arrogant slave owner who only viewed her as property. I have a remarkable twin who has beautiful, ebony skin. I am the half-brother of a man I have tremendous respect for and the uncle of one of the finest women I know. I would never deny my connection to Carrie. I am also the son of two wonderful adoptive parents who loved me and who also loved the black people they served. I will not hide behind white skin and blue eyes. I don’t know exactly what all of it will mean, but I will live it as it comes.”
“You’ve thought about it more than you admitted,” Moses said after a long silence.
Jeremy just shrugged and smiled. “I’m also rather fond of my brother-in-law and nephew. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
John chose that moment to wake up. He reached up and patted Moses’s face. “Hi, Daddy,” he said sleepily. He looked around and spotted Jeremy. “Hi, Jer’me!” he said brightly, holding out his arms.
Jeremy grinned and scooped him over to sit on his lap. “Hello there, nephew. Want to go play in the backyard until dinner?”
John nodded happily. “Play!”
Jeremy winked at Moses as he set John on the ground and rose to take his hand. “At least I have a little while before I have to try and explain it to him.” He laughed and swung John down from the porch in a giant arc that sent the little boy into spasms of giggles.
*******
Carrie and Janie worked until long after dinner. They treated bloody wounds, set broken arms and legs, and dispensed food to starving soldiers. After four years of war, they could do it almost without thinking. It was the questions that were the most difficult. How did one answer questions that simply had no answers? Certainly ones she couldn’t comprehend herself.
Carrie supposed she understood the anger that had resulted in the attacks, but she also knew it had been completely misplaced — black anger spilling over onto white men who had nothing to do with Lincoln’s assassination. She also knew it would do nothing but make it harder for Richmond to heal the deep divisions over race.
“The war is supposed to be over!” Janie said angrily.
Carrie shrugged, relieved when another wounded soldier called her over.
“Are you Mrs. Borden?” The question came from a skinny lad with shaggy brown hair and piercing brown eyes. His right arm was splinted, and bruises and welts covered his body.
“Yes, I am,” Carrie said gently. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Alex. I served with your husband.”
Carrie reached down to grasp his hands. “I’m so sorry you’re hurt.”
Alex shook his head. “I’ll be all right. I been hurt worse lots of times. I called you over here to ask about Captain Borden. I was the one who got him to the hospital wagon. He was pretty bad off. How is he, ma’am?”
Carrie’s heart swelled with gratitude as tears filled her eyes. “Alex…” she murmured as she squeezed his hands tightly. “I’ve always wanted someone to thank. All they told me was that someone got Robert into the wagon and said to make sure he got help quickly.”
“I wish I could have done more, ma’am.” Alex hesitated. “The captain…?
“Is doing just fine,” Carrie said firmly, deciding to not reveal how tenuous his health was. “He was very sick, but he’s getting better every day.” She leaned down to kiss Alex softly on the brow. “He has you to thank for that. As do I.”
Alex smiled. “I sure am glad, Mrs. Borden. Captain Borden is a fine man.” He looked up into her eyes shyly. “He used to talk about you all the time. Now I know why. You’re even prettier than he said.”
Carrie smiled softly.
Alex wasn’t done. “The captain just wouldn’t stop,” he said. “I knew he was getting real sick, but all he could think about was all of us. We didn’t hardly get to eat, but he ate even less. He wanted to make sure we had all we could. I tried to get him to eat, but he would just say he was fine.” He frowned. “I knew he wasn’t. He held on ‘til it was all over. Then it was just kinda like he gave up. I knew all he wanted was to get back home to you.”
Carrie made no attempt to stop the tears rolling down her face. “Thank you so much, Alex,” she whispered. “It’s because of you that my husband is still alive.” Her breath caught. “And then you were attacked!”
Alex shrugged again. “Like I said, I been hurt way worse. Can I get out of here soon? I’m eager to get back home to my farm.” He paused, a shadow coming into his eyes. “If it’s still there. I know lots of places aren’t.”
Carrie could tell his thoughts were far away. Her heart ached at the look of yearning on his face. “I hope it’s still there for you, Alex,” she murmured, unable to keep her thoughts from flying to the fields of Cromwell Plantation. “You are going to get a chance to start over.”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon I am,” Alex said wearily. “Things sure didn’t turn out the way we hoped, but at least I’m still alive. My arm may be broken, but at least I still have it. That’s more than I can say for a lot of the fellas.”
Carrie pressed his hands again. “You’ve got a whole life ahead of you,” she whispered through her tears. “If my husband or I can ever do anything for you, please let us know.”
Alex smiled. “Thank you for that, ma’am. It’s enough just to know the captain is okay. You tell him I said hello.”
“I will,” Carrie promised. “I know he would want to come down, but he’s still too ill.”
Alex nodded. “Just knowing is enough. I reckon I’ll be out of here in a day or two. I’m going to head home right away. I’d already be close except for them soldiers attacking me, but then I wouldn’t have found out about Captain Borden, so I reckon some good came out of it.”
Carrie looked at him more closely. “You’re rather remarkable,” she said suddenly. “I’ve met so many soldiers who are bitter and angry. Why aren’t you?” she asked bluntly.
“You can thank your husband,” Alex responded promptly. “We used to have right long talks while we were waiting for battles, or while we were marching to escape the Yankees.” He paused, remembering. “I had me enough bitterness and anger for a bunch of men, but the captain told me it would just eat me up and leave me with nothing. He told me things would always happen that would be hard, but it was up to me how I dealt with it.” He was the one to give Carrie’s hands a tight squeeze. “He told me his wife taught him all that, so I reckon I got you to thank too.”
Carrie smiled through her tears, only moving away from Alex’s bed when she was called by another soldier. “I’ll check on you later,” she promised.
When she finished caring for her last patient and everyone was asleep, she slipped over to say goodbye to Alex, smiling softly when she saw he was sleeping soundly. His face had softened to reveal just how young he really was. She laid her hand on his forehead gently, said a quick prayer, and turned away.
Janie was waiting for Carrie by the door, her eyes clouded with fatigue, but her face peaceful.
Only then did Carrie realize how tired she was. “Long day,” she said simply.
“It felt good,” Janie replied. “It will be hard when I get to Raleigh and I don’t have a way to make a difference.”
&nbs
p; Carrie’s gut tightened as she gazed into her friend’s eyes and saw the pain and fear she was trying to hide. She grabbed Janie’s hand and pulled her over to stand under a tall oak tree next to the hospital entrance. Spencer was waiting in the carriage across the street, but she knew he would wait for as long as needed. “We need to talk before we go home,” she said quietly.
Janie opened her mouth to protest and then simply nodded.
“I’m so worried about you, Janie. So much has happened that I almost missed how angry Clifford has become.”
Janie’s blue eyes shimmered with tears. “He has changed. Losing the war has changed him.”
“Losing the war?”
“Yes. Losing his arm was hard, but he still believed the South would go back to the way it was and he would pick up his life where he left it in Raleigh.”
“And he no longer believes that?”
“He believes losing the war has destroyed everything he holds dear,” Janie explained. “He is terrified of what will happen now that all the slaves are free. He is afraid of them revolting against the white people, just like they have in the last day when they attacked all the soldiers.”
Carrie looked at her more closely. “And you? How do you feel?”
Janie stared into her eyes and shook her head helplessly. “His fear is rubbing off on me,” she admitted slowly, her eyes begging for understanding. “You know I don’t have a prejudice against black people and that I’m so glad the slaves are free…”
“But…?”
“I guess I never really thought of what it would be like in the South if two million slaves suddenly had their freedom.” Janie searched for words. “What do you believe is going to happen?”
Carrie spoke carefully. “I don’t believe there are any easy answers,” she said slowly. “I know that slavery simply had to end. Now that it has, I think everyone is going to have to figure out what life will be like.”
“Are you scared?” Janie asked suddenly. “Are you scared of what will happen?”
Carrie made sure her answer was true before she gave it. “No. I believe there are two million slaves who are way more frightened than any of us are. I believe they simply want an opportunity to become educated and live their lives as they want to. I believe they want to know they will never be separated from their loved ones by the auction block and that they want to reunite from the people they have been torn apart from.” She paused and looked up into the leaves of the tree as a wind sprang up to toss them in a merry dance. A glance over Janie’s shoulder revealed the last glimmer of light on the horizon before darkness cloaked the day.
“I don’t believe they are looking for more fighting. I’m sure there are some who are angry and looking for revenge, just as there are with white people looking for the same. But that’s not a racial issue, it’s just a morality issue. Those of us who believe in their right to freedom have to stand up for them and do everything we can to help them live as free people.”
“But what if the white people won’t let it happen?” Janie asked.
Carrie looked deeply into her friend’s eyes and saw something that troubled her. “Do you know something?”
Janie hesitated but shook her head. “Clifford talks all the time about how the southern man will never allow blacks to be their equal. He doesn’t tell me how, but he tells me there are already plans to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Carrie’s heart squeezed with sorrow and regret. “So they’re not going to let the war end?”
Janie only shook her head again. “I just don’t know,” she whispered, fear and pain shining in her eyes.
Carrie gave her a warm hug. “None of that matters right now,” she said bluntly. “Right now I’m only worried about you. Clifford’s anger is growing. So is your fear.” She stepped back to stare into Janie’s eyes. “You’re afraid of your husband.”
Janie opened her mouth in automatic refusal but closed it, her weight sagging against Carrie as tears filled her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice raw with pain. “I am afraid of him.”
“What are you going to do?” Carrie asked evenly, fighting to keep her voice calm.
Janie looked at her now with confusion. “Do? What can I do? Clifford is my husband.”
“Has he hurt you?” Carrie asked sharply, hoping the unexpected question would illicit an honest response.
“Physically?” Janie replied. “Not really. He has grabbed my arms a few times, but he has never hit me. I can’t believe he would ever do that,” she protested.
“Yes, you can,” Carrie responded flatly, “or you wouldn’t be afraid of him.”
Janie closed her eyes for a long moment. “Yes, I’m afraid he will, but it’s more than that…” She paused for a long moment. “I’m disappearing,” she finally murmured. “I can’t seem to remember who I am or what I want or what I dreamed of during the long years of the war.” Tears spilled over to run down her cheeks. “Everything is getting swallowed by his anger and bitterness.”
Carrie prayed for wisdom and the right words. “You don’t have to go back with him,” she said gently. “You can stay here in Richmond and come out to the plantation. We’ll figure things out together.”
Janie stared at her blankly. “Leave him? Divorce him?”
“It’s done,” Carrie replied. “Times have changed. It used to be you could only get divorced because of adultery, but Thomas Jefferson began to change things. Now you can get a divorce for incompatibility.”
Janie was staring at her, her eyes now dry. “Divorce? It can be done, but how women are viewed hasn’t changed. Do you know what the life of a divorcee is like? People would scorn me.”
Carrie searched for what to say. “This from my liberal friend who defied so many societal conventions to work at Chimborazo Hospital?” she asked lightly. “You suddenly care what people think?”
Janie’s eyes flashed with quick anger. “This is different,” she insisted. “I married Clifford for life.”
“Yes,” Carrie said, with a growing anger of her own that she fought to control. “You married a man who promised to love, honor, and cherish you — not frighten you with threats, anger, and abuse.” She took a deep breath to control her anger. “I heard the things he said to you last night, Janie. I heard him call you stupid. I heard the rage in his voice.”
The tears that filled Janie’s eyes now were ones of shame. She lowered her head as sobs shook her shoulders.
The anger vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Carrie wrapped her friend in another warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “but it’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “Clifford is a very angry man and he’s allowing his bitterness to spill over on you. You don’t have to let him.”
“Would you leave Robert?” Janie asked sharply. “Would you divorce him and fail at marriage?”
“Yes.” Carrie had already thought it through. “If Robert returned from war abusive and destructive, I would divorce him. It would break my heart, but I can’t expect anyone else to have respect for me if I don’t have it for myself first,” she said gently.
Janie stared at her for long moments before she shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t leave him.” Her voice broke as she shook her head helplessly. “I’m sorry, Carrie, but I just can’t.”
“It’s alright,” Carrie whispered back. “You’re making a choice. I’m praying you’ll find the strength to live with it.” Her voice grew stronger. “But you have to make me one promise, Janie.”
Janie peered at her through tear-filled eyes but remained silent.
“You have to promise me that if it gets too hard, you’ll come back here. That you’ll let me help you.” She grasped her hands tightly. “And you have to promise to stay in communication. I’ll write every week. You have to let me know what’s going on.”
Janie hesitated for a long moment and then nodded. “I promise.” She stepped back. “We have to go home,” she said. “It’s getting very late. I have some t
hings to finish up before we leave tomorrow. I’m sure Clifford is getting quite anxious.”
Carrie opened her lips to say more but realized she had said all she could. She raised her hand and signaled to Spencer.
Chapter Three
Matthew leaned back against the train seat and closed his eyes for a long minute. When he opened them, Aunt Abby was gazing at him with tender compassion.
“Long few days,” she commented.
Matthew nodded, rubbing his stiff neck to try to release the tension. “Long few days,” he agreed. Then he smiled. “I’m glad you’re coming to Washington, DC with me.”
Aunt Abby smiled back. “Me too. I hate the circumstances, but I’m so glad to have this time with you, and I wouldn’t want to experience this with anyone but you. I know that you know what I’m feeling right now. I’m old enough to be your mother, but I simply think of you as my friend.”
Matthew reached across the seat and took her hand. “We are friends,” he said simply. “But you are also my rock. There were so many times during the last five years that I wasn’t sure I could keep going. You were always there to encourage me and make me believe it was possible to keep pressing on.”
“We did that for each other,” Aunt Abby assured him. Her clear, gray eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Oh, Matthew…it’s really true that President Lincoln is dead. We are really going to his funeral.”
Matthew frowned. “It’s true.”
Both of them sat quietly, watching as trees flashed by. The train was crowded but eerily quiet. Every person on the train was headed north for one reason — to attend Lincoln’s funeral. Each person sat with their own grief and uncertainty about what the future held.
