by Ginny Dye
Janie watched him for a moment from the protection of the dining room. She felt a moment’s fear when his sharp eyes scanned the ornately carved rosewood furniture upholstered with soft blue velvet. Two Boston rockers perched on the edge of the dark blue carpet in front of the fireplace. In spite of the bright sunlight pouring in through the spotless windows, she had already lit the lanterns, anticipating Clifford’s demand that his house be ready for guests at every moment. She forced herself to relax, knowing her careful cleaning had removed even a speck of dust.
Finally Clifford stopped his perusal of the room. Just as he opened his mouth to call for her, Janie straightened her shoulders and walked into the parlor.
“Hello, Clifford,” she said calmly.
Clifford’s eyes scanned her carefully, analyzing her coral crinoline dress and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. He demanded she look the part of a successful attorney’s wife at every moment. Even when cleaning, she had to always be ready to accept company. In just a week, Clifford had already taken great strides to rebuild what had been a powerful law practice before the war. She had no doubt his unscrupulous determination would open many doors.
Janie stood straight, forcing herself to breathe evenly, taking pride in such a small accomplishment. She met his eyes directly and waited for him to speak.
There was no greeting — no fond welcome for his wife. “I have an important meeting tonight,” he announced. “I expect drinks in the study in one hour.”
Janie nodded calmly but chose to not respond. She was fairly certain he would not expect her to as long as she met his wishes. She had a wild moment of wondering how he would respond if she were to say, “Yessuh, Masser.” She knew Clifford’s three slaves disappeared well before the end of the war, and his fledgling business could only support part-time housekeeping, so he expected Janie to do almost everything. She didn’t really care. At least it gave her a way to pass the tedious days. And on the days Wanda was there, at least she had someone else to talk to, though their housekeeper was clearly not comfortable with carrying on a conversation with her white employer.
“Where is my dinner?” Clifford demanded, a scowl appearing on his face when he glanced into the dining room and saw an empty table.
“We’re having chicken and dumplings,” Janie replied. “I left it in the pot until you returned home to be assured it was hot.” She knew it wasn’t as good as May’s, but her cooking skills were improving. It was something she had never had need of until recently. Her family’s servants had always cooked when she was growing up, and then May provided delicious meals at the Cromwell home. Even when all they had was months of beans and cornbread, she always managed to do something to vary the taste, and it was always delicious. “I prepared a sweet potato pie for dessert,” she added.
“I would like to eat now,” Clifford said imperiously, his look clearly indicating he was disappointed not to have found something to accuse her with.
Janie nodded. “Go ahead and be seated. I’ll have it out in just a moment.”
Dinner passed quietly, though Janie could feel anger and resentment boiling in Clifford. She could only guess at what knowledge he had gained during the day that ignited the latest fire. She could hardly remember the days in the beginning of their relationship, and even in the early months of their marriage, when they would have wonderful conversations and discuss what was going on in the country. The defeat of the Confederacy had changed all that, sparking a rage within Clifford that closed her out.
Still, she was anxious to know what was happening in the country. Clifford forbade her to leave the house without him as an escort, and since he was never free to go anywhere, she had not left the walls of his home except to walk in the yard since arriving in Raleigh.
“Any news from General Johnston?” she dared to ask, desperately wanting to know if the war was truly over. Lee and Grant had signed the infamous surrender at Appomattox, but the last she knew, General Johnston still had active troops in North Carolina.
“And what could you possibly care about that?” Clifford asked scornfully, his eyes flashing as he shoveled in a mouthful of steaming chicken and dumplings.
“Since I helped return a good many of those soldiers to the battlefield,” Janie responded, forgetting for a moment to keep her voice subservient, “I would like to know if they are still fighting, or if the war is truly over.”
“So that you can gloat over the complete demise of the South?” Clifford snapped angrily. “I’m sure you’re sorry not to have Carrie Borden to celebrate with.”
Janie swallowed back her bitter retort and closed her heart to the stinging pain of missing Carrie. She’d had her chance and she had foolishly walked away. She also knew better than to press for more information.
“You are nothing but a stupid woman,” Clifford sneered, his eyes boring into her. “I ran into your father at the courthouse,” he offered, his eyes shifting to become more calculating.
Janie stiffened. She’d seen her family only once since returning home. Clifford insisted she invite them over for dinner the second night, acting the part of a dutiful, loving husband. Janie, not wanting to alarm her parents, played along. Her parents, she knew, were so proud she was married to an influential attorney who was also a war hero in their eyes. Now she merely waited to hear what Clifford would say.
“I chose not to tell him that his beloved daughter is a nigger-loving traitor without a brain in her head,” he snapped.
Janie continued to gaze at him. He knew before they married that she carried no prejudice in her heart, and that she longed for the slaves to be free. Only one of them had changed in the last months. Clifford’s bitterness was growing on a daily basis. She was desperate to know what was fueling it, but instead asked, “How was Father?”
“As well as could be expected,” Clifford ground out. “Everything he has worked for is gone, most of his money is gone, and now he has nothing but a woman who longs for the destruction of the South for a daughter.” He slammed his fist down on the table. “As well as could be expected is really not so well, is it?” he taunted.
Janie’s color rose in her face as she swallowed back her fear and anger. She forced her shoulders to remain straight as she stared back into his eyes directly, so as to not betray her fear, and calmly, so as to not appear to be challenging him. All she wanted to do was bolt from the table and hide in her bedroom, but even there she wasn’t safe.
The sound of carriage wheels signaled her rescue. Clifford spared her a scathing glance, took two quick bites to finish his meal, and slid back from the table. “Stay away from the study once you have brought drinks,” he ordered before he strode from the room.
Janie blinked back tears as she pushed away her full plate. If Clifford cared enough to notice, he would see that she had lost quite a bit of weight in the last month or so. Even at Carrie’s it had become increasingly difficult to eat. Now that she was back in Raleigh she was hardly able to swallow a bite around the constant tightness in her chest.
Within twenty minutes, there were five gentlemen in Clifford’s study. They smiled pleasantly at her when she delivered the drinks, but she could tell by their distracted eyes that they didn’t really see her. They were already thinking about what they had come to discuss. “Have a good evening,” she said graciously before she left the room.
Janie did not go to the back of the house as ordered. She moved out of sight of the study door, inching closer when Clifford closed it firmly. She would just have to take her chances. The only way she could get information was to stay close enough to try and overhear any conversation. Right now their voices were muted behind the heavy oak door, but if history repeated itself, they would soon be yelling with passion.
Janie waited restlessly while the murmuring continued. Her head jerked up when the first statement was made that she could understand.
“I’m telling you, General Johnston will be forced to surrender!”
Clifford’s voice rose above the rest
. “That’s nonsense! Johnston signed a surrender armistice with Sherman.”
“Yes, he offered him the same surrender terms Grant offered Lee,” another man snorted. “Give up their weapons and promise to fight no more, and then they could go home.”
“That’s only part of it,” another protested.
Janie crept closer so that she could hear the conversation clearly. She was sure she would hear footsteps and be able to hide before she was discovered snooping.
“He’s right,” Clifford said. “Johnston refused to accept the terms. He told Sherman he had the power to surrender all the Confederate armies everywhere in the South, but would only do it if Sherman gave him what he wanted.”
“Which was?”
Clifford sounded quite proud to be the one with the information. Janie could envision the cold gloat on his face as he proved his superiority over the other men. “Instead of surrendering, the Confederate armies will break up and go home, taking their weapons with them. In exchange, President Johnson will recognize state governments in the South that promised to support the Constitution.” Clifford paused. “Sherman said the president will protect our political rights and will not interfere with the Southern people if we remain peaceful and obey the laws.”
There was a long silence. Another man, someone Janie had not heard speak yet, was the next to raise his voice. “I hear Sherman was called up to Washington. I’m not sure everyone up there is happy with the arrangement he made.”
“Well, they should be,” Clifford retorted angrily. “The North had better give us the right to live our own lives down here, or they’ll find themselves right back in battle!”
An even longer silence reigned. Janie, safe from discovery, smirked with disdain. Just exactly how did Clifford think the South could go to war again over anything? They had already been soundly defeated and had no resources to take action of any kind.
“How exactly do you propose that happen?” one of the men asked blandly.
Janie smiled, knowing she wasn’t the only one to find Clifford’s statement ridiculous. The smile faded as she listened.
“There is more than one way to fight a war,” Clifford said angrily. “The North might think they can come down here and tell us how to run our lives, and they may send the military down to control things, but they won’t be here forever. There are already plans being made,” he added mysteriously. His voice rose again. “Do any of you plan on letting your old slaves be your equals?” he snarled. “Are you ready to let the niggers invade our cities and leave our plantations to go to ruin?”
“No!” The voices of the other men in the room rose in unison.
“But what do we do now?” one of them asked.
“We wait,” Clifford responded. “First, we wait to see if Johnston’s armistice sticks. President Johnson was a slave owner himself. I sense he is sympathetic to our cause, though he may have to do some posturing to catch the Yankees off guard.” His laugh was brittle and cold. “John Wilkes Booth did us all a huge favor by killing Lincoln. It may take some time, but I predict we’ll be back in control of the South before too long. They may have beaten us militarily, but that doesn’t mean we don’t still have ways to protect the grand Southern lifestyle.”
“Slavery is dead,” one man protested. “There is no changing that.”
“You’re right,” Clifford agreed, “but there is more than one way to make sure the nigger stays in his place.”
Janie stiffened, not wanting to believe it was her husband she was listening to. Had he truly deceived her so completely when he courted her? Had she been totally blind to what was truly in his heart? Or had he just radically changed when confronted with the reality of a crushing Southern defeat? Tears filled her eyes when she accepted that the kind of hatred she heard oozing from his voice had not been born overnight. It had long been felt and nurtured. Perhaps once he had cared enough about her to stuff it inside and even believe he could feel differently, but he was no longer making any kind of pretense about how he truly felt and who he really was.
The sound of footsteps had her scurrying down the hallway. She slipped into the kitchen just as the study door opened. Knowing the meeting would go on for hours but not willing to take the risk of being detected, she slipped out onto the back porch and slumped down on the steps to lean against the railing. Protected by the darkness, she let hot tears rain down her cheeks.
******
“We’re here!” Susie called out as the spires of Richmond appeared on the horizon. She leaned forward as the crowded wagon approached the outskirts of the city, and then frowned when she saw the blackened walls standing out in stark relief against the blue sky. She heard about Richmond’s burning, but seeing it in person was different from hearing about it. She sucked in her breath when she saw the destruction and felt bile rise in her throat.
“You know Richmond right well?” a woman in the wagon asked anxiously. “You know how to get us down to the black quarter?”
“Don’t worry,” Susie said soothingly, forcing her nausea down. “That’s where I grew up. I have friends there.”
“You sho dey still dere?” a wiry, older woman asked, her eyes wide and anxious as she gazed at the burned buildings. “The black quarter still eben be dere?”
Susie hesitated. “I got news that the black quarter didn’t burn,” she said firmly. “And my friends can’t all be gone,” she said less confidently. She grew quiet as the wagon full of twenty slaves from the contraband camp neared the outskirts of town. They had loaded up the wagon and headed for the capital city as soon as they heard word of blacks pouring into Richmond from the countryside. She was the only one who knew anything about the city, but all of them were confident that there was opportunity to be found.
“I wonder if Simon is here.”
Susie looked back at June, smiling at her friend as she juggled four-year-old Simon in her arms. June’s eyes were frightened but filled with determination to find her husband. “The last letter you got from Moses said he and Simon were here in Richmond. We’ve seen black troops patrolling the roads. I believe they’re both still here.”
June tried to smile naturally, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You think Zeke is here?”
Twenty-year-old Susie frowned slightly, her pretty face twisted with concern. “I haven’t heard from Zeke for a while, but I know it’s hard to get letters through right now. I don’t know where he is, but if he comes to the contraband camp he’ll know I came here looking for my daddy.”
June nodded. “You reckon your daddy is out of that Castle Thunder place?”
Susie nodded. “I heard it’s empty, but that doesn’t tell me where he is. They took the prisoners up toward the mountains before Richmond fell. I’m sure they’ve been released, and I’m sure Daddy will come back here, but I don’t know how long it will take.”
June laid a hand on her arm. “You’ll find him,” she said solemnly.
Susie stared at the city, remembering the day her father had been hauled off to prison for suspected spy activity — the very same day her mother died in an explosion at Tredegar Iron Works. She and her three siblings had ended up at Cromwell Plantation, away from the violence and wrapped in safety. It had done her heart good to watch her brother and two sisters grow healthy and strong from plentiful food. It took months for the haunted expression to leave their eyes, but finally laughter returned. When she met Zeke, married, and left the plantation, she promised them she would return to Richmond after the war to find their daddy.
“Where we going?” June asked. “Are we going to stay with some of your friends down in the quarter?”
Susie shook her head but didn’t say anything else. She had to get everyone else settled first. She stiffened when a soldier in Union blue approached the wagon but relaxed immediately when she saw he was black.
“Howdy,” the soldier said. “Where you folks comin’ from?”
“The contraband camp at Hampton,” Susie replied, not offering any more informat
ion.
The soldier, his eyes sharp but kind, nodded. “Lots of people comin’ into the city,” he said.
“I imagine they are,” Susie replied, sensing there was something else behind his casual conversation. “Anything we need to be aware of?”
The soldier shrugged. “Won’t everybody be glad to see you,” he commented. “The city is getting a mite crowded.”
Susie frowned. She wondered about that when she had seen the number of wagons heading toward Richmond. “Problems?”
The soldier looked at her, seeming to realize she was the leader for their small group. “You know the city?”
“I grew up here.”
The soldier nodded with relief. “Stay out of the white part right now,” he said simply. “Just take everyone directly to the black quarter. We’re keeping control of things, but they are gettin’ right tense. When it gets dark, it’s harder to watch things.”
Susie nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. There was no longer a legal curfew for blacks, but that didn’t mean you should do something stupid to put yourself at risk. “Thank you,” she said simply.
The soldier lifted his hand and rode on.
Susie turned to everyone in the wagon. “Did you hear him?” she demanded, waiting until everyone met her eyes and nodded. “We’re free, but that doesn’t mean we can stop being careful. I want all of you to be around to enjoy your freedom. Everything is still right new. I’ll make sure you’re safe, but then you’ll be the one to keep yourself safe.”
*******
Susie and June lifted their hands and waved goodbye to the wagonload of people standing on the dusty road in front of the First African Baptist Church. They looked excited and bewildered but were already surrounded by several women from the church who assured Susie they would help them get settled. Susie had asked about her father, but no one she spoke to knew anything.
“Where are we headed?” June asked again.
