American Dreams Trilogy

by Michael Phillips

  “I cannot say,” replied Seth. “Perhaps because eternity suddenly seems so close.”

  “No doubt. And perhaps God is watching out for my Cherity in spite of me. You are here, after all. So now promise me—”

  He paused once more. His voice had grown weak again. He struggled for a breath and tried to continue.

  “Don’t you think you should tell Cherity, if not about her past—and I will honor what you said before—at least about making your peace with God,” said Seth.

  James forced a sad smile. “How to tell a daughter to whom you have presented yourself as an agnostic all her life… how to tell her such a thing… that is what I have struggled with. It is—”

  Seth saw that there were tears in his eyes.

  “You must, sir… you must tell her. Don’t wait until it is too late.”

  “But I have wasted all these years with her… foolishly turning my back on the God I should have known all along… should have helped her to know… I have failed her so badly… don’t know how… but now… it is too late.” He had begun to cry.

  “It is never too late,” said Seth again.

  James squeezed Seth’s hand. “Seth,” he said, “men—remember.”

  Seth nodded.

  “About Cherity… promise me, Seth, that… that you will take care of her.”

  “I will, sir,” replied Seth, his eyes beginning to fill.

  “Be good to her.”

  “I will.”

  “Whatever she needs… she will be provided for… the house… see that she—”

  “Have no worry,” said Seth. “But… please talk to her, Mr. Waters. Tell her you have spoken with God about your life. She needs to hear it from your own lips. I think she has something she would like to tell you too.”

  Without awaiting an answer, Seth turned and left the room. He went in search of Cherity. He found her in her room. The door was open. He knocked softly. She turned. Her face searched his for any sign.

  “You need to talk to your father,” he said.

  “Is he…”

  “He is awake but very weak. He has something to tell you. And you need to tell him about your ride to Harper’s Peak, and your time on the stone bench in the arbor.”

  Cherity hesitated, looking at him with question.

  “Tell him, Cherity,” repeated Seth. “Tell him.”

  She nodded and left the room. She spent the next half hour seated beside her father on his bed. They would be the most treasured thirty minutes of her life. When Cherity emerged from the room, her eyes were wet with tears. Seth was waiting on the landing outside the door.

  “He is… I am afraid, Seth… I don’t know what to do,” she said softly. “He seems unable to speak.”

  Seth hurried in, Charity at his side.

  James’ eyes seemed to brighten as he saw them approaching together. “Seth… Seth,” he whispered, his lips parting in a faint smile, “I… told her… like you said… and now—I’m going—I’ve got to—an apology to… make. Seth, take care—”

  The sentence remained unfinished. The light began to fade from his eyes.

  “Daddy!” cried Cherity, rushing forward and sitting on the bed beside him. She leaned down and gently scooped him off the pillows toward her.

  With daughter’s arms beneath his shoulders cradling his face to her cheek, he breathed a few last whispered words, so faint she could barely make out his final sigh of life, “I love you, my… my little Cherokee.”

  With them, the man with a mysterious past that now seemed from another era altogether, and who had become a child of the Father in the end, slipped across into that other world where Cherity’s mother was waiting for him.

  Cherity held him a few moments more, gently laid his head back on the pillow, then stood, turned toward Seth, and broke into sobs. She went straight into his arms and wept on his chest. He closed his arms around her and held her close. This time she did not pull away.

  Fifty-Seven

  On Monday morning, Dr. Elliott came to the house, along with Reverend Morrison, pastor of the Evangelical Presbyterian Church where Cherity occasionally attended, to speak with Cherity about funeral arrangements. The latter was an honest seeker after truth, whose sermons, it is true, relied a little too heavily on platitudes. But from them Cherity gleaned what meat she could and had grown spiritually thereby, and for the pastor, therefore, she held a fond regard. He had met her father, though briefly, and was particularly tender in his care for Cherity after learning of James’ passing.

  Seth took the opportunity to go into the city late Monday morning. He arrived at the Herald offices and went straight to Mr. McClarin’s office to inform him about James. As well as apologizing for being late that morning, he said that he would not be to work for several days, until funeral arrangements were finalized and Miss Waters’ situation settled. He could not promise, he added, that he would be able to continue at the magazine. As much as he appreciated the job and wanted to continue, other concerns had now become paramount.

  “Will you return to Virginia?” asked McClarin.

  “I don’t know, sir,” replied Seth. “I need to make certain that Miss Waters is provided for and in a comfortable and adequate situation.”

  “What will she do?” asked the editor.

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “War is coming you know—do you intend to volunteer?”

  “No,” answered Seth. “Which side would I fight for?” Briefly Seth explained the quandary of his mixed loyalties.

  “I see what you mean. When your father freed his slaves it made quite a stir—sold a lot of newspapers and magazines… well, take as much time as you need,” said the editor. “Your job will be waiting for you. I will think about your dilemma. In the meantime, give my sympathies and kind regards to Miss Waters and tell her that if there is anything I can do, not to hesitate to call on me. Her father was a good man and gave this paper many good years. We owe him a great deal. And of course, please notify me about the funeral. Many of James’ colleagues will want to attend.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Seth, rising and shaking the editor’s hand.

  The moment he was gone, McClarin put on his coat and hat and set out for the Phillips photographic studio. An idea had come to him that bore looking into.

  They had notified Cherity’s two sisters of James’ death, as well as Seth’s parents, by telegram late Sunday night. With Rev. Morrison’s help, and two or three telegrams back and forth from Anne and Mary, the funeral was scheduled for Friday.

  Condolences came by telegraph from Greenwood on Monday. Seth’s parents said that one or the other of them would try to make it north if possible, but that there were visitors at Greenwood that might make such a trip impossible. Wyatt Beaumont had been extremely troublesome of late. They did not know whether they could risk being away.

  Anne would arrive from Albany on Wednesday evening.

  Mary and her family would arrive from Norfolk on Thursday.

  On Wednesday morning a messenger came to the door. Expecting more condolences, Seth was surprised to see his own name on the envelope. He opened it and read the brief message:

  Please come see me as soon as is possible. I know this is a difficult time. However, I have a matter to discuss which could impact your job prospects and decisions with regard to the future.

  It was signed, M. McClarin, Boston Herald.

  Seth showed it to Cherity.

  “What is it about?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. Perhaps I ought to go in this morning and find out.”

  When Seth returned to Constitution Hill several hours later, his own horizons filled with sudden new opportunities, he found Cherity alone in the sitting room crying.

  “Cherity, what is it?” he said as he entered.

  “I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” she replied, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “And missing Daddy. Oh, Seth… what am I going to do! Anne’s going to be here tonight. Suddenly I realiz
e how alone I am with Daddy gone. I know they will both treat me like the little sister I have always been. They’ll feel sorry for me and want me to come live with them. But how can I? I would never feel at home with either Anne or Mary, and I dread the thought of being an imposition. What am I going to do? I can’t stay here… alone.”

  Seth had already been thinking through just this dilemma on his return from the city, as well as praying determinedly about the decision McClarin had suddenly set before him. How to fulfill James’ dying charge with regard to Cherity, and yet heed his own obligations to himself and his country—the perplexity had been gnawing at him incessantly for two days. Suddenly McClarin had shown him how he might accomplish the latter. And he could see but one way to carry out the former.

  “There is another possibility,” he said.

  “What is that?” asked Cherity, looking at Seth questioningly.

  “You do have a home now,” he said, “only not here.”

  “Where, then?”

  “Greenwood,” he replied.

  A gasp escaped Cherity’s lips. Her heart leapt at the thought. She would feel at home there! But… so many questions flooded her brain.

  “Would they… your parents, I mean…” Cherity floundered. Her mind was racing. “Would they… actually want me?”

  “Are you kidding?” said Seth. “They would love having you!”

  “How can you know that without asking them?”

  “Because I know my father and mother. And it wouldn’t all be just for your benefit. You could help them too. I know you would be a help and comfort to my mother.”

  “A comfort… what do you mean? How could I help them? Why would she need comforting?”

  “Because… I won’t be there,” said Seth. “And I have the feeling neither will Thomas for much longer.”

  His words landed dissonantly against Cherity’s ears. Her heart and brain were spinning in so many directions! What was Greenwood without Seth!

  “Why… what do you mean?” asked Cherity. “Are you… I don’t understand… do you mean you are going to stay here… in Boston?”

  Seth shook his head. “No,” he said. “Whatever you decide, I will be leaving both Boston and Greenwood.”

  “I… I don’t under—but… where would you go?”

  “Mr. McClarin has offered me a way out of my dilemma,” said Seth, “about where my duty ought to lie. He says I can keep my job with the Herald, and be loyal to both sides at the same time. Apparently Mr. Phillips thinks I have an aptitude for this new photography. He seems to like what I have chosen for subjects so far and would like me to continue to work with him.”

  “How?”

  “He wants to send me on assignment, traveling with a regiment but as a civilian, probably of Union soldiers to begin with. He wants me to photograph what I can of the war. He will pay for my travel as Herald staff. He would allow me the liberty to travel on my own, or, if need be, with soldiers of either side. I would be an entirely neutral observer.”

  “It sounds dangerous,” said Cherity, her tears from earlier drying as thoughts of Seth’s safety became uppermost in her mind.

  “It may be,” he replied. “But I cannot stand by as a spectator when our country is at such a critical time. I have to be loyal as an American, even if I cannot fight for the North or the South. I hope you can see why. It is important to me that you understand.”

  “I suppose I can,” said Cherity. “Women don’t feel those kinds of things. But I guess all men do. It’s what makes women love them, but hate the causes they fight for.”

  Even as the fateful word escaped her lips, Cherity wondered if she had said too much. But Seth seemed to take no notice.

  “I can do my duty without taking sides,” he went on. “This is my way to be of service to the whole country.”

  Cherity stood and faced him.

  “Oh, Seth,” she said, “I can’t help it—I am afraid.”

  Seth walked toward her, opened his arms, and enclosed her in his embrace.

  “I know,” he whispered. “These are frightening times. I suppose I am afraid too. We cannot see to the end of it. But… but we have each other now. We must let that help us get through it.”

  Cherity sighed. The contentment she felt was tinged with remnants of melancholy. Her grief was still fresh. Yet for the moment she was content, and her heart quietly glad. She would think about what Seth’s words might mean later. For now she would just let them bathe her in peace.

  “And you really think…,” she began.

  “Yes,” he whispered, in answer to the question she had been thinking, gently stroking her hair as he continued to hold her. “Greenwood is your home now. We will leave as soon after the funeral as you are ready.”

  Funeral services for James Waters were held on Friday at Boston’s Evangelical Presbyterian Church, and was attended by more people than anyone expected, most of whom none of his three daughters recognized. Neither Richmond nor Carolyn was able to come.

  The will was read by Mr. Glennie later in the afternoon. The house on Constitution Hill was left to Cherity. Approximately four thousand dollars in the bank and various investments were to be divided equally among the three daughters. James’ personal possessions and the home furnishings, they could divide among themselves as they saw fit.

  As Cherity had anticipated, both Anne and Mary urged her to come live with one or another of their families. She had decided instead, Cherity replied, to accept the offer of Seth’s parents, received by telegram the day before, of an extended stay at Greenwood. She appreciated their kind invitations, she told her sisters, and the time might come when she would want to take advantage of one or both of the offers. For the immediate present, however, she felt Greenwood was the right place for her to get her feet on the ground, where she could work hard and feel useful, and could accustom herself to life without their father.

  Anne and her family left Boston on Saturday.

  On Sunday, Cherity, Seth, and Mary attended Rev. Morrison’s church in the morning. Mary and her family left the city by train that afternoon.

  On Monday Seth and Cherity packed what they each would need and made final arrangements with Mrs. Porterfield for the house during Cherity’s absence. Seth paid one last visit to Mr. Glennie on his own.

  On Tuesday morning, Seth finalized his plans with Mr. McClarin, promising that he would return within three weeks to complete his photographic training.

  By that afternoon he and Charity were seated on a southbound train on their way to Virginia.

  Fifty-Eight

  The reunion on the platform of the Dove’s Landing station on the following Thursday was tearful, joyous, and bittersweet.

  The two men greeted one another with a vigorous shake of the hand, followed by a manly embrace between father and son. The two women dispensed with handshakes and smiles altogether, and ran tearfully and without preliminaries straight into one another’s arms. The men were already talking about crops, weather, and luggage before spiritual mother and adoptive daughter began to release their hold sufficiently to stand back and gaze into the other’s liquid eyes.

  “Cherity… my dear,” said Carolyn softly with an overflowing heart. “I am so sorry about your father. But I am also so happy to see you—welcome!”

  “I feel like I have come home,” whispered Cherity. Her voice, though soft, exuded utter peace.

  “You are home!”

  “Hi, Mom!” exclaimed Seth, interrupting the tender scene by scooping Carolyn into a great embrace.

  “Seth!” she said, “you look… so grown up!”

  “It’s only been, what—five months,” laughed Seth. “I can’t have changed that much!”

  “I suppose I had forgotten what a man you had become.”

  “What are you talking about—I’m still the same me.”

  “Hello, Cherity,” said Richmond, now approaching with outstretched hand. “Welcome back to Dove’s Landing.”

  “Thank you, Mr. David
son,” smiled Cherity. “I cannot tell you how happy it makes me feel just to be here again.”

  “We are so sorry about your father. He had become a good friend.”

  “Thank you. He died peacefully and I am thankful for that. He and I shared many things on that last day. I will treasure them as long as I live.”

  “Each located the other’s eyes, and tried….”

  For the first time since their arrival, Carolyn’s face fell. Seth saw it, then glanced toward his father with an expression of question.

  “Cynthia is at the house, but I’m afraid Thomas is gone, Seth,” said Richmond. “He left without warning last week, said he was going to enlist for the Confederacy, and we have not heard from him since.”

  The news hit Seth hard. He had expected it, yet suddenly the reality of impending war came very close.

  “Most of the others are gone too,” Richmond went on. “Wyatt, Brad, Scully Riggs, even Cameron and Jeremy… they’ve all joined up. Our only consolation is that Thomas will probably be in the Virginian army under the command of our friend Robert Lee. But I must confess that your mother and I have a difficult time finding much consolation even in that.”

  “But you two are here!” said Carolyn. “That’s what matters now.”

  The next few days were like walking back into a dream for Cherity. No place could have assuaged her grieving heart like the hills and pastures, gardens and giant trees of Greenwood. And though having a mother to love could not make up for the loss of a father, it made it easier to bear. For Carolyn’s heart opened wider now to receive the orphaned girl even than before. And with Cynthia for a friend, sharing with her, if not the loss of death, the anxiety of an uncertain future, Cherity soon felt almost more at home than she had anywhere in her life.

  When Seth at last broke the news to his parents three days after their arrival that he would be leaving soon too, they were both relieved to know he would not join the fighting and yet anxious anew because necessity would surely bring him close to it. They admired his stand, however, and knew he had to follow his convictions wherever they led him.