by Ginny Dye
******
The funeral procession for the assassinated President Abraham Lincoln began at two o’clock in the afternoon on April 19, 1865.
Matthew and Aunt Abby, along with all the others occupying the rooftop, straightened to rigid, sorrowful attention as the bells began to toll.
Aunt Abby jolted when the minute guns fired, but she was determined tears would not blur her memory of the event. She gripped her hands together as she stood quietly, her head held high.
The crowds watched silently as the procession left the White House and preceded up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. Women dabbed at tears with embroidered handkerchiefs, but nothing marred the silence. It was as if everyone knew President Lincoln deserved somber control after four years of intense effort to hold the Union together. Wild crying and wails of despair would not honor his memory. It would not bring him back, and it would not set the tone for the work that remained to be done. There was as much steady determination as there was grief resonating through the air.
Aunt Abby held her breath as the funeral car drew close. She hadn’t expected it to be so large, though she knew she had no basis for any expectation whatsoever. The entire thing looked to be about fifteen-feet tall — high enough where everyone in the crowd could see the coffin that held their beloved president. The canopy itself was topped with a glimmering gilt eagle and draped with black crape. The hearse was entirely covered with cloth, velvet, crape, and alpaca. The seat was bordered by a splendid lamp on both sides. It was being pulled by six gray horses all holding their heads proudly, as if they understood just how precious their cargo was. Each of them had a groom walking at their head to make sure nothing could go wrong.
Aunt Abby reached for Matthew’s arm as the coffin filed past them. It was at that moment that the stark reality of Lincoln’s death truly penetrated her heart and mind. The knowledge that filled her mind filtered down into her heart, bringing a pain so stabbing she could not breathe. Vowing not to shed a tear, she straightened her shoulders even more.
It will not be in vain, she promised the president as his body rolled by. You gave your all to hold this great country together. You gave your all to grant freedom to millions of slaves. It will not be in vain. You may be gone, but there are others of us who will take up the mantle and carry on. We will not let the last four years be for nothing.
She remained rigid as the long lines of government officials and troops filed by, the sound of muffled drums beating out their challenge and comfort to all those who watched.
The silence remained long after the funeral car had reached the steps of the Capitol, long after the coffin had disappeared up the stairs into the Rotunda. No one moved, as if by staying in place they would delay the reality of the president’s death.
Finally the crowds began to disperse. They would return the next day when the coffin would be open for a viewing, but there was nothing more to do other than gather in small knots of people and talk, trying to make sense out of something that was totally senseless.
Chapter Five
Carrie pushed her hair back from her face and stared north. She knew from newspaper reports that Lincoln’s funeral train had departed Washington, DC that day, April 21. It was going to wind its way through northern cities, allowing the grieving masses an opportunity to say goodbye to their beloved president for thirteen days before it finally arrived in Illinois, where the president was to be buried. She couldn’t help wondering how many Southerners shared her grief, and how many of them rejoiced that Booth had killed the man they saw as their enemy.
May’s head appeared from the back door. “You gonna just stand over them peas, Miss Carrie, or you gonna actually pick a few so I’s can fix dinner tonight?”
Carrie shook away her thoughts and managed to smile. “I’ll have them right in to you,” she promised, suddenly realizing she needed to hurry. She had to feed Robert lunch before she rode with Spencer to the train station to pick up Aunt Abby. The telegraph with news of her return had arrived the night before. The smile on Carrie’s face was genuine this time as she bent down to fill her basket with peas, adding in some carrots and radishes. She could hardly wait to see Aunt Abby again. She’d been surprised she was returning so soon but was thrilled to have her back.
Her basket was finally full when she turned back toward the house. She felt, more than heard, the bundle of energy rushing toward her. She had just enough time to swing the basket to her other arm before John barreled into her and grabbed her skirt.
“Aunt Carrie! Aunt Carrie!” John squealed, laughing with delight when she almost toppled over.
Carrie laughed and managed to squat down to eye-level with the excited boy. “Hello, John. Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”
John nodded, an important look on his face. “Me and Daddy had to go to town. I wanted to walk, but Daddy said you would skin him good if he did, so we went down in the thing that horse pulls.”
“You mean the carriage?” Carrie guessed. She was glad Moses wasn’t pushing too hard but realized he was probably going crazy being confined to the house.
“Yes! That’s what he called it. It was just me and Daddy,” he said proudly, his face shining brightly. Then his face puckered. “This place don’t look so good,” he said sadly. “Where I came from looks better,” he said firmly.
Carrie hid a chuckle that John could think the shacktown built around Hampton, Virginia for escaping slaves was a better place than Richmond. She quickly sobered when she realized how desolate the burned-out buildings made Richmond look. A lot of cleanup had been done, but charred buildings still reached for the sky and huge piles of rubble waited to be hauled away. It was going to look bad for a long time.
John suddenly twisted away. “Daddy taught me how to play chase last night,” he boasted. “I bet you can’t catch me!”
Carrie opened her mouth to explain she had to get the vegetables into the house for May.
“I figure you’re too old!” John added impishly, his grin lighting up his face.
Carrie laughed, swung the basket down, gathered her skirts, and ran toward John.
John squealed with delight and began to run, dashing behind a tree as fast as his little, pudgy legs could carry him. “You can’t catch me!” he yelled.
Carrie pretended to let him outrun her until she was almost out of breath. The last time she had played chase was with the children down in the slave quarters on the plantation. Sorrow gripped her throat for a moment before she banished it, sped up, and scooped John up into her arms. “I got you!” she cried, tickling him and laughing just as hard as he was.
******
Robert was awake when Carrie entered the room, but a quick look at his face had her heart sinking. The joy from her fun with John vanished as she gazed at her husband. His eyes were clear of fever, but they were dull with apathy.
She knew his nights had become a long series of nightmares and flashbacks. She still wasn’t sharing a bed with him, but her cot against the wall swept her into his world of horrible memories. Every time he had a nightmare she would sit on the side of the bed and rub his arm or hold his hand until the worst of it passed. Most times he didn’t wake up. When he did, he very seldom knew who she was. He would just stare at her with terrified confusion until he finally closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.
He was stronger physically, but the apathy seemed to suck him in a little more each day. The fever that had burned his body seemed to have dipped into the recesses of his soul and left nothing but dead embers. She had told him nothing of what was going on in the country, but it was as if he knew and decided to distance himself from everything and everyone.
“Hello, dear,” she said softly.
Robert gazed up at her but didn’t speak.
Carrie’s heart sank further. She was sure he knew who she was, but there was nothing she could say that pierced the veil of indifference. His brief period of clarity and communication that gave her so much hope had vanished. She knew
the nightmares and memories were destroying her husband’s soul, just as surely as the war almost destroyed his body. She gritted her teeth but kept her voice calm and loving. “I brought you some lunch.”
Robert nodded. His willingness to eat was the only thing giving her hope that the man she loved would claw his way back from the darkness. There had to be some part of him that wanted to live, or he would have simply quit eating. Or maybe he was just aware enough not to want to cause her more pain. Whatever it was, she was simply glad he was still eating.
Carrie was grateful for the warm spring air blowing in through the window, billowing the white curtains and causing sunlight to dance on his soft blue bedcover. She insisted on plenty of fresh air. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said brightly. “The garden is coming along very nicely. I picked a huge basket of vegetables right before I came up.”
Robert gave no indication he had heard her.
Carrie kept on, determined not to let his apathy numb her into non-communication. “I heard from Janie this morning as well. A brief telegram came with the message that she and Clifford made it back to Raleigh safely.” She said nothing about her fears for Janie’s safety. She knew he didn’t have the energy to care, and she didn’t want to introduce more trouble into his already burdened heart.
“I’m picking up Aunt Abby at the train station in just a little while,” she continued, surprised when his eyes flashed a spark of interest and his head turned toward her. “Would you like her to come up and see you?”
Robert stared at her for a long moment and nodded his head once. “She has good eyes,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Carrie agreed. “She’s told me more than once how much she would like to spend time with you. I’ll have her come up when she gets here.”
Robert nodded again but then closed his eyes and turned his head away.
Carrie stifled a sigh, picked up the bowl of soup, tucked the blankets around him securely, and kissed him on the forehead. She stood over him for long minutes, wondering if she would ever have her husband back, or if he was just going to waste away for months and then die like her mother had. Blinking back tears, she banished the thoughts from her head. Robert will get well!
Before she left the room, she moved to the window and stared southeast over the fresh green just emerging on the trees; over the housetops; over the spires of the churches below her; over the blackened remains of buildings; over the vibrant white of the dogwood trees exploding into bloom. None of it held her anymore. After three years of being locked in the crowded, turbulent capital city of the defeated Confederacy, she wanted nothing more than to return to the open, lush fields of Cromwell Plantation. She wanted clean air to breathe. She wanted open spaces in which to roam. She wanted to see new growth in the tobacco fields of her childhood.
Tears filled her eyes as she thought of Sam and Opal. She frowned briefly as she thought about Eddie. Imprisoned in the infamous Castle Thunder prison for almost two years for suspected Union spy activity, he had escaped just days before the fall of Richmond. He was staying with friends in the city until he could return to the plantation with her and see his children. He had been heartbroken when he discovered his wife, Fannie, had been killed in an explosion at Tredegar Iron Works, but the hope of being with his children again kept him going. Would all of them still be on the plantation? Captain Jones had sent word the plantation was still there, but what condition would they find it in? What would life be like now?
Carrie pressed her hands to her head. She had little more than questions with no answers. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She had learned to survive years of war by refusing to look beyond just the day ahead. The end of the war had produced as many questions as the war itself, but all she had to focus on was the day in front of her. And the day ahead of her had Aunt Abby arriving at the train station in little more than an hour.
A rumble of wheels on the road outside made her take her eyes off the horizon. A smile flitted across her lips as she identified Spencer sitting erect on the seat of his carriage.
Carrie looked at Robert one more time to assure herself he was sleeping peacefully before she moved from the room and ran down the stairs.
Aunt Abby was coming today!
When Carrie reached the bottom of the stairs, Rose was just entering the house. Spencer had taken her into town to do some shopping for food their garden couldn’t provide. “Good morning, Carrie.” She moved forward and wrapped Carrie in a warm hug and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.
Carrie smiled. “What did I do to deserve that?”
“Nothing. Other than living,” Rose added. “I’m simply making up for lost time. I spent so many hours in the contraband camp staring toward Richmond, wondering how you were…if you were still alive…if I would ever see you again…” Her voice caught before she forced a laugh. “I have no idea why I’m thinking of all this today. I’m here. We’re together. That’s all that counts!”
Carrie understood completely. She stepped closer to give Rose another huge hug, adding her own kiss on her friend’s cheek. “I’m all for making up for lost time. Every time I see you, my heart just wants to sing. I missed you so very much during all those years! As much as we have talked in the last couple weeks, I still feel like we haven’t even scratched the surface of telling each other all that has happened.”
“That will take a very long time,” Rose murmured.
“Good! At least we won’t get bored,” Carrie said teasingly, her earlier heaviness evaporating.
“You have a point,” Rose said, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Spencer poked his head in from the kitchen, his hand wrapped around a big piece of cornbread. “You ‘bout ready to go, Miss Carrie?”
“Yes, Spencer. Is it warm enough to go without my coat today?”
“Oh, yessum, you won’t be needin’ no coat. Spring done really sprung. I’s gonna finish up this here cornbread May fixed for me. I be meetin’ you out front in just a few minutes.”
His head disappeared but the door flung open to reveal May’s shining face with a wide streak of flour down her cheek. “I be fixin’ Miss Abby a right special meal,” she announced. She looked at Rose. “You done brung me that chicken, Miss Rose?”
“Have you brought me that chicken?” Rose corrected.
May gave her an exasperated look. “How could I have brung you a chicken? You’re the one who went to town.”
Rose laughed but shook her finger at their housekeeper. “This is a new world you’re living in, May. Learning how to speak correctly is important.”
May scowled. “You know what dey say ‘bout teachin’ old dogs new tricks.”
Rose scowled right back at her. “You’re not an old dog. You’re an intelligent middle-aged woman who is free for the first time in her life. You’ve learned how to read this past year. Paying attention to how you speak is the next step,” she said firmly.
“Don’t you neber get tired of bein’ a teacher?” May demanded.
“No,” Rose replied, a warm smile on her face. “Now, what were you asking me about?”
May stared at her for a few moments, laughter lurking in her eyes, before it finally broke out into a smile. “I would like to know if you brought me a chicken from your shopping in town,” she said very properly.
Rose clapped. “Very good! And, yes, I have your chicken. It’s in the boxes Spencer brought in.”
“Good!” Still speaking slowly as she thought about the words before they came out of her mouth, May turned to Carrie. “We are going to have a very special meal to celebrate Miss Abby’s coming home. I’ll have it ready when you return.”
Carrie smiled broadly. “I will tell her, May. Thank you so much. We’re so lucky to have you!”
“You got dat right,” May said flatly, delivering a wink before the door swung shut again.
Carrie and Rose were laughing when they moved out onto the porch. The fine spring weather had lured most Richmonders outside. Mothers called to children
playing in their dirt front yards. The wind flapped sheets and clothing on the lines. Garden patches were all coming alive with green plants. The war years had taught everyone to have as big a garden as possible. The war might be over, but still no one had money. It would take a long time for things to get back to normal.
Carrie stepped down from the porch when Spencer pulled the carriage to a stop in front of their gate. “I’ll be back soon with our favorite woman,” she told Rose. Then she stopped. “Where is Moses?”
“He went into town to meet with Captain Jones. He is getting more and more restless. When he was in town this morning, he saw more and more freed slaves coming into the city. They are all excited but seem equally bewildered and lost. He wants to find a way to help.” She raised her hand to stop the question rising to Carrie’s lips. “He’s taking it easy, but he feels he has to do this.”
Carrie closed her lips on her comment and nodded. “I know. I’m probably being far too cautious,” she admitted. Her eyes darkened. “We just came so close to losing him. I don’t want to take any risks.”
“None of us do,” Rose agreed, “but I also understand how he feels. We have worked for this time for so very long. Now that freedom has come, he doesn’t want to be on the sidelines. I don’t believe he’ll be foolish, but he can’t keep just laying around the house.”
Carrie smiled. “I understand. I’ll just check the wound in his chest every night to make sure there is no infection.” She shrugged. “It will make me feel better.”
Rose laughed. “You and me both.” She waved her hand. “Go get Aunt Abby. I’ve missed her terribly.”
*****
Carrie had not been out of the house in several days. Already so much had been done to restore the city. She saw hundreds of men, both black and white, clearing debris from the burned buildings. Wagon after wagon was being filled with charred wood, while bricks were being cleaned for reuse when it was time to build again.
