by Judith Pella
“Father, I have no clear path before me,” Joseph prayed aloud. He looked skyward, as though hoping the throne of heaven would be revealed. “My family is deteriorating before my eyes. My hope is in you, but my heart is ever on them.”
The horse stumbled, regained his footing, and moved on at a steady pace. Joseph, tightening the reins in his gloved hands, wondered seriously about the fate of his home and family. If only he could see some answer for their state of affairs.
“Help me, Father. Help me to know what is best for all of them. My Margaret needs your healing touch, and should she not be able to have it, I don’t know what I will do.” His chest constricted with the anguish he felt. He choked back a cry as he continued. “She is my world, my heart and soul, and now I feel such dread and loneliness that I cannot bear to face the days ahead. She has left me, left her mind and journeyed to a place where I cannot follow.” He pulled back on the reins just as they settled on the path for home. Then with an imploring voice, Joseph lifted his gaze heavenward once again. “Please bring her back to me. I’ve already lost those who were so dear. Don’t let me lose my beloved as well.”
Part II
February 1837—January 1838
The train calls at stations in the woods, where the wild impossibility of anybody having the smallest reason to get out is only to be equalled by the apparently desperate hopelessness of there being anybody to get in.
—CHARLES DICKENS
19
Impenetrable Walls
On the fourteenth of February, 1837, Lucy Alexander became Lucy Adams. Her dark hair and eyes made a sharp contrast to the white brocaded satin of her dress. The gown, a creation from France, had been a gift from Lucy’s father, while the veil, a gossamer piece with scalloped lace, had been her mother’s bridal veil.
Carolina thought there had truly never been a more beautiful bride. The snug bodice of the gown set off Lucy’s tiny waist, while the deep rounded neckline left her milky shoulders bare. She wore a strand of diamonds and pearls and carried her mother’s small black Bible. She was confident and graceful and all things that a woman should be. At least, all manner of things that Carolina wished to be.
But while Lucy looked confident, York appeared pale. He seemed less sure of himself, almost nervous. Carolina had caught his gaze only once and thought instantly of a raccoon she’d once cornered in the stable. The surprise and fear that had registered on the animal’s face was very nearly the same as that on York’s. Normally, York would be the one to take charge of matters, but this time it was clearly Lucy who held the advantage.
The ceremony itself was short and simple. York and Lucy stood before the Reverend Boswell and pledged their lives and love to each other for all time. Carolina stood beside Lucy, while York, being without any close friends since the departure of James Baldwin, requested his father stand as witness to the union. The only other people present were a few mutual friends of Lucy and York, and of course, Virginia and Georgia Adams.
Carolina had known the intensity of Virginia’s spiteful nature from the moment they departed Oakbridge for Washington. Virginia had protested such an event while citing that the family was in mourning. This declaration was offered up at least a dozen times until Georgia threatened to be quite ill if Virginia didn’t cease her complaints. This, of course, sent Virginia into a sulk, which Carolina readily felt was more endurable than her whining.
Once they’d arrived at the Alexander house the day before the wedding, Lucy, too, had picked up on Virginia’s bitterness and went out of her way to extend the utmost courtesy. Nothing seemed to work, however, and Virginia had bid them all an early evening to seclude herself in the room Lucy had provided. She stayed practically out of sight until the wedding ceremony the next afternoon.
Now, sitting down to the wedding supper after the ceremony, Carolina wondered seriously how she might resolve the situation with her sister. Virginia refused to speak to her, and even when Carolina had tried to force the issue, she’d made little progress. Virginia clearly wanted no part of Carolina’s comfort.
Laughter rang out from the far end of the table where Lucy and York toasted each other and tried to share sips of wedding punch from the same goblet. Lucy was careful to raise the linen tablecloth to cover her gown, as everyone knew it was bad luck to stain one’s wedding dress.
Virginia came late to the table, and while such rudeness would ordinarily bring about a harsh reprimand from their mother had she been present, Virginia seemed completely unconcerned. In fact, Virginia seemed to have relaxed a great deal, Carolina thought, as she picked at the roasted duck on her plate. She watched Virginia out of the corner of her eye and instantly knew that something was amiss. Virginia’s hand seemed incapable of doing what she wanted it to do. She nearly knocked over her wedding punch at one point, and brushed her sleeve against the candle flame at yet another. The coup de grace came when Virginia, laughing with rather too much zeal over a trivial amusement, nearly fell out of her chair.
“Virginia, are you all right?” their father asked in a tone of worry.
Carolina, sensing a scene was about to be created, quickly got up from her chair and moved to the end of the table. “Virginia hasn’t been feeling well today. It’s just all the excitement and such. I’ll help her to her room.”
Carolina reached out to steady Virginia’s swaying form and helped her to her feet. Virginia turned and struggled to focus on Carolina’s face.
“I don’t need help,” she said flatly.
Carolina smelled the liquor on her breath and took a tighter hold on her sister’s arm. “Come along, Virginia. You’ll soon be right as rain.”
Virginia made only a minor protest to Carolina’s insistent tug. As they exited the dining room, Joseph came up behind them to inquire as to the problem.
“Is Virginia all right?” he asked Carolina.
Carolina knew there would be nothing but trouble if their father learned that Virginia was drunk. She hated to lie but felt somehow responsible for her sister’s actions.
“It’s just female troubles, Papa,” she told him in a hushed voice, all the while pushing Virginia toward the stairs.
“Ah, I see.” Joseph’s face instantly relaxed. “You take good care of her. I’ll have one of the servants bring your meal up to the room.”
“Thank you, Papa,” Carolina replied. She was grateful Virginia hadn’t attempted to offer her own account of the circumstance.
With her hand to the small of Virginia’s back, Carolina followed up the stairs wondering what she would say to her sister once they were alone. It wasn’t like anyone in her family to be given to strong drink. And it was especially unacceptable because Virginia was a woman. Their mother and father both abhorred drunkenness, and it was well known in the community that such actions weren’t to be tolerated at any Adams’ affair. So what had possessed Virginia Adams to break those rules?
Slipping into the bedroom at the far end of the hall, Carolina was unprepared for Virginia’s sudden move. Whirling around, Virginia pushed Carolina backward with such force that Carolina fell against the door.
“What is wrong with you?” Carolina asked more harshly than she had intended.
“You!” Virginia spat out the word venomously. “You are what’s wrong with me.” She staggered to her trunk and opened it with dramatic flourish. Pulling a silver flask from beneath layers of petticoats, Virginia unscrewed the top and lifted it to her lips.
Carolina grimaced. “Haven’t you had enough of whatever is in there?”
“No.” Virginia took a long drink, then lowered the flask. “I haven’t had nearly enough. I can still see you and hear you and be reminded of everything you did to me.”
“What is it you have against me? Tell me that I might at least try to seek your forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness? Never!” Virginia laughed maniacally. “You will never hear that word from my lips.” Her speech was so slurred it was nearly incomprehensible.
Carolina shook h
er head. “What did I do to you? If you won’t forgive me, why not at least explain what imagined wrong I’ve performed?”
“Imagined?” Virginia actually seemed to sober at this word. “You think I’ve imagined my injustices?”
“I just suggest that perhaps the situation isn’t as it seems. I’ve no recollection of doing you any injustice, let alone one of such immense proportions.”
Virginia swayed, nearly falling backward onto the bed. As if considering the idea for a moment, she paused in her tirade and looked down at the wedding-ring quilt that covered the top of the bed. Then without further ado, she plopped down in rather unladylike fashion and took another drink.
Carolina waited for her to say something more. Virginia’s face contorted at the realization that the flask was empty. She tossed the thing aside, then looked at Carolina as though remembering for the first time that she was there.
“I hate you,” she said, barely whispering the words. “I will always hate you.”
Carolina stepped forward cautiously, feeling only marginally safe because Virginia was seated. “But why? What have I done?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me.” Virginia scowled and curled her lip as if to snarl. “You are the reason I’m alone. Do you know how it feels to attend the wedding of your brother, knowing that it should have been your own?”
“But you broke your engagement,” Carolina responded, still not understanding. “How am I responsible for that?”
“You gave James his interest in the railroad.”
“No, he already had an interest in the railroad,” Carolina corrected. “I merely helped him to see it through his grief. I can’t be blamed for that.”
“Oh, yes you can be. I would be a married woman by now if not for your meddling. James was perfectly happy to take up banking until you kept forcing the issue of locomo . . . loco . . .” she stammered and put a hand to her head as if trying to remember something very important. When the word refused to come to her she shrugged her shoulders. “If you and that blasted railroad would have just remained out of sight, James would have stayed on as a banker.”
“But for how long?” Carolina questioned. “Isn’t it better that you know of his desires before marrying him than learning of it later?”
“But I was his desire!” she exclaimed, getting uneasily to her feet.
Carolina backed away cautiously, wondering if Virginia would attack her again.
“I was his desire, and he was happy with me. You ruined my life, Carolina Adams, and I will never forget it.”
Carolina knew it was senseless to argue with Virginia, yet she was desperate to vindicate herself. “If you loved James, why didn’t you support his desire to be a part of the railroad? Any other woman would have followed her intended in his duties, not demanded he give them up.”
“What do you know? You’re a child!” Virginia swayed and grabbed on to the bedpost. Her eyes rolled from side to side for a moment.
Carolina felt it futile to continue the conversation. “Why don’t you let me help you into bed, Virginia? You don’t want Father to find out about the drinking.” She moved toward Virginia rather hesitantly.
Virginia fell backward against the bed. Rising up on her elbows, she shook her head. “I don’t want your help.”
“Is there nothing I can do to set things right between us? You know this will break Father’s heart and only add to his worries.”
“There is nothing you can say or do. . . .” Virginia’s words trailed off. Then, as if a sudden revelation had come to mind, her eyes widened. “You could leave Oakbridge so that I never have to lay eyes on you again.”
“My leaving is the only thing that will allow you to forgive me?”
Virginia laughed. “Oh no. I said nothing about forgiveness. I just want you out of my life. Why don’t you marry that simpering bore, Hampton Cabot? Yes, that’s it. Marry Mr. Cabot and move to New York and leave me alone.” Then without warning, Virginia dizzily fell back against the mattress and passed out.
Carolina called to her several times, but seeing that she was in a deep state of alcohol-induced sleep, she pulled off Virginia’s shoes and stockings. She then wrestled Virginia’s body around the bed in order to strip her of the cumbersome velvet gown and corset. Leaving her with petticoats and chemise, Carolina managed to position her lengthwise.
She covered Virginia in a tender, almost motherly way and sighed. Maybe leaving was best. Hadn’t she herself considered such an idea? Georgia’s desire to leave home had only stirred up Carolina’s own unspoken wishes. Oakbridge was no longer a haven to her, and distancing herself from it seemed to fit hand in hand with her belief that God was sending her west with the railroad.
She contemplated Virginia for a moment and considered her suggestion that she marry Hampton Cabot. It was true enough that doing such a thing would remove her from Oakbridge, but it wouldn’t allow her to take up an active role with any railroad, much less her beloved Potomac and Great Falls.
“I’m not the reason James left,” Carolina whispered to Virginia’s now peaceful face. “I’m not to blame for your choices.”
Then she turned to go, not completely certain of the truth of her words, because all her denials would never change the fact that Carolina had fallen in love with Virginia’s fiancé.
20
Heart and Soul
Carolina was still contemplating her future the following week when she visited the White House. President Jackson had opened his home to the public in celebration of Washington’s birthday. The entire city was a mass of confusion and revelry during that holiday, and Carolina found herself actually quite anxious to return to the quiet of country life. But she wanted to see President Jackson once more before returning to Oakbridge.
She was received warmly by the staff, who by this time recognized the young woman whom their President had come to admire. She carried with her Jackson’s letters and felt a lingering sorrow as she pushed through the crowds to make her way to the staircase. These people had little idea the anguish and pain that had been inflicted upon Rachel and Andrew Jackson. Nor did they know of their deep abiding love—a love that had suffered through many separations.
Throughout the house were tables laden with gifts. Pipes, ornate walking sticks, a small wagon made of hickory, hats, and other personal articles all came from the people who loved Jackson and wished to bid him a fond farewell from public office. The strangest gift of all came in the form of a huge wheel of cheese. Said to weigh fourteen hundred pounds, the cheese was four feet in diameter. At least it had been at the start of the day. Now there was little left of it given that every visitor to the White House had taken for himself a memento of the day. The smell of cheese lingered in the air, however, and Carolina smiled to think of the onslaught that must have ensued to so diminish the thing.
Jackson’s mulatto, George, stood at the top of the stair awaiting her ascent. He bowed slightly and led the way to the President’s bedroom. It was said that Jackson had only come downstairs five times since the December elections. His health and spirit were failing him fast, and Carolina felt honored that he’d given her so much of his time and strength.
Passing through, she silently contemplated the upstairs hallway. There were packing boxes and trunks everywhere. The eight-year accumulation of Jackson memorabilia had to be readied for the move to the Hermitage, Jackson’s beloved plantation in Tennessee.
George paused to open the bedroom door, then stood back to allow Carolina entry into the room. The drapes were pulled against the harsh winter light, and only two candles were lighted.
“Miss Adams,” the aged Jackson called from his bed, “what an honor to receive you. Please take off your coat and stay with me a while.”
“The honor is mine, sir,” she said. Untying the ribbons of her bonnet, Carolina set it aside and quickly shed her coat as well. She took her place on a straight chair beside the bed and smiled. “I don’t blame you for hiding out here. The crowds downstairs are
quite unruly.”
He smiled, the weary lines of his wrinkled face lifting for a moment. “There is nothing quite like a party to fetch in the prettiest of women. I must say, you grow more lovely by the day.”
Carolina felt herself flush, but she kept her gaze firmly fixed on Jackson. In her heart, she wondered if he would live to see his successor take the oath of office in March.
“I read worry in those lovely brown eyes,” he said before she could voice her thoughts.
“It is my prayer that you recover your health,” Carolina replied softly.
“I will recover when I’m once again returned to my home.” He spied the letters in her hands. “Ah, I see you’ve returned my youthful prose.”
Carolina smiled and handed over the bundle. “I was most impressed. I laughed and cried and felt as though I knew Mrs. Jackson as a personal friend. You were truly blessed in your love, and I can only pray to find such a love myself one day. If such things are not reserved only for a lucky few.”
Jackson coughed fitfully for a moment. Carolina thought the rasping sounds of his gasping breath could be compared to death rattles, but she pushed such an idea from her mind and tried to concentrate instead on the letters.
Finally calming, Jackson shook his head. “There is true love for you, Miss Adams. Of this I am sure. But you mustn’t settle for anything less than the purest heart. There will come many men to woo you, and their charms may well lead you to the altar, but God alone knows who the right one will be. Trust Him for that direction.”
“You speak as one who knows, yet I’ve heard it said . . .” She paused, suddenly realizing her boldness.
