Always Forward

by Ginny Dye

  George stared at her. “Garment factory jobs are hard to come by. Especially office manager jobs.”

  “Have you heard of Abigail Livingston?”

  “Of course. Everyone in the garment industry knows who she is. Her reputation is impeccable. The things she has done as a woman makes me proud to be one, even if I’m not living as one.”

  Janie smiled. “Abigail Livingston is now Abigail Cromwell.”

  “As in Thomas Cromwell?” George managed through his obvious surprise.

  “It’s too long of a story for the rest of our walk home, but yes.” Janie hurried on. “She and Thomas married and are opening a new factory here in a few weeks. I know she has not yet settled on an office manager.” She smiled when she saw George’s eyes widen. “There is only one thing that might be a problem for you. The factory is going to be in Moyamensing.”

  George shrugged. “The Irish area of Philadelphia? Why would that be a problem for me?”

  Janie regarded him. “It is a problem for a lot of people.”

  George laughed. “I’m a woman living as a man, Janie. I would say I have learned not to judge anything. And,” he added, “I would do almost anything for the opportunity to work for Abigail Livingston Cromwell.”

  “I’ll contact her,” Janie promised. She looked up as they neared the house, not surprised when Matthew stepped out onto the porch, warm light spilling out onto the steps.

  “Janie!” Matthew called. “I was so worried.”

  Janie grabbed George’s hand and pulled him forward. Now was as good a time as any. “I’m so sorry, dear. I ran into my old friend, George, on the way back from class. We got to talking, and I completely lost track of the time. I’ve invited him for dinner.” She felt George stiffen with surprise, and then relax just as quickly.

  “There is plenty,” Matthew answered, reaching out to shake George’s hand as they climbed the steps. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, George.” He paused as the light from the porch hit their guest’s face.

  Janie stiffened. Did her perceptive husband see right through the subterfuge?

  “You are the wounded soldier who stayed at Thomas Cromwell’s house in Richmond for a while, aren’t you? I understood you had died.”

  “I’m happy to say the rumors were incorrect,” George said and then quickly changed the subject. “I read all your articles, Matthew. I’m especially interested in learning more about the Reconstruction Acts.”

  “That’s just the beginning of things to be talked about tonight,” Matthew replied.

  Janie glowed with happiness as they moved into the house, laughing and talking. She could hardly wait to write Carrie.

  Chapter Twelve

  Janie ladled thick stew into Wedgwood porcelain bowls as she listened to the wind whistling against the windows. A letter from Carrie had told her about spring descending on the plantation, but there were still only whispers in Philadelphia—whispers that were so quiet she had to strain to believe they were there. She knew warmer weather would come soon, but for now she was responsible for focusing on the good parts of a Philadelphia winter. Right now, the only thing she could come up with in her winter-weary mind was how grateful she was for a warm, cozy home.

  Her and Matthew’s home was not as luxurious as Abby’s, which was just down the street, but it was more than adequate for their needs, and it kept her close to the women from the Homeopathic College who had moved in when Elizabeth, Alice, and Florence had moved out. In spite of the lingering hurt from the latter three cutting off their friendship because of her and Carrie’s decision to practice homeopathic medicine, she still missed the easy friendship they had shared. There were many wonderful memories of long meals around the table while they laughed, talked, and argued about all they were learning, but they were tainted by the angry hardness of their faces when they had announced they were leaving.

  Janie bit back a sigh as she turned away from the soup and sliced the warm bread she had pulled from the oven. She pushed aside any regrets as she heard George’s easy laughter ring through the house. She may have lost some old friendships, but she had also just miraculously gained an older one she thought was gone forever. Why was it so easy to focus on loss when she had so much to be grateful for?

  George broke into her thoughts as he pushed open the door to the kitchen. “Do you need any help, Janie?”

  Janie smiled at him as she began arranging the sliced bread on a platter. “I do believe you’re the first man to come into my kitchen with an offer of help.” Matthew pushed in just in time to hear her statement. She raised a hand to stop him before he could register a protest. “Other than my wonderful husband, of course,” she said. “I am lucky to have two extraordinary men in my kitchen tonight.” George’s eyes glowed with gratitude. “But the answer is no. I have everything ready.”

  Silence reigned while the soup and bread were consumed. The wind continued to push hard against the windows, rattling the glass as the limbs of a nearby tree brushed against them. The warmth of the kitchen embraced them, wrapping them in a cocoon of coziness that pulled Janie’s thoughts away from the challenges of the day.

  “Better?” Matthew asked quietly.

  Janie smiled, grateful he was able to read her emotions so easily. “Yes.” She rose to start the tea kettle on the back of the stove. “Did the second Reconstruction Act pass?”

  George pushed aside his bowl and leaned forward with a look of avid attention. “Did President Johnson veto this one, too?”

  “Yes and yes,” Matthew replied. “The second Reconstruction Act is really just a clarification of some things that were not made clear in the first one.”

  “Like a timetable for setting up the military districts?” George asked keenly.

  Matthew nodded. “You read it?”

  “Yes,” George answered with a frown. “Not that it was easy to understand.”

  “I agree,” Matthew responded. “Politicians and lawyers seem to enjoy communicating in such a way that the average person is left scratching their head.”

  “Perhaps to make certain no one can question their decisions,” George said wryly. “When you’re left guessing what they are trying to say, it is easy not to question it too hard.”

  “I’m afraid that might be true,” Matthew agreed. “But back to your question, the military districts are being set up right away. The commanding generals have until September first of this year to register every male of voting age in their districts.”

  “Both white and black?” Janie asked.

  “Yes, except for those whites who are disenfranchised by their involvement in the war.” Matthew turned to George. “Once you wade through all the political jargon, it basically says that every state has to form a convention before the fall passes this year. They have to create a new state constitution that is approved by Congress. Each state has to ratify the Fourteenth Amendment and give blacks the vote if they want to be readmitted to the Union and have any political say in what happens.”

  George listened closely. “It’s been three weeks since the first bill passed. How are people reacting in the South?”

  Matthew shrugged. “I guess it depends on what people you are talking about. The blacks are ecstatic, as are the white Unionists who never wanted the war to happen in the first place. There are many other southerners who really have no understanding of what is happening at all because they are busy trying to create a new life after the war.”

  “And then there are the ones who are determined to fight it,” George said.

  Matthew looked at him thoughtfully. “What do you know about that?”

  “For starters, I have read everything you have written,” George answered. “I find your articles to be thoughtful and fair.”

  “Thank you,” Matthew murmured. “You said ‘for starters…’? ”

  George nodded. “I find I feel best about my decisions if I read everything I can get my hands on.”

  Janie smiled to herself, thinking of the days George h
ad insisted there was no need for him to learn how to read. Obviously, the attainment of knowledge had given him the thirst to know more. She understood that. The more she learned, the more she wanted to know.

  “And what have you learned?” Matthew pressed.

  “The Pulaski Citizen carried an article about the Ku Klux Klan,” George replied.

  Matthew’s eyes widened with surprise. “That article just came out yesterday.”

  George shrugged. “I find I have quite a bit of time to read.”

  Janie’s heart swelled with both admiration and sympathy as she realized living an assumed identity must be quite lonely. She wondered how many dinner invitations George received, and how many he would actually accept. Her attention was pulled back to the conversation by her husband’s angry response.

  “The Ku Klux Klan is going to cause many problems,” he said in a clipped voice.

  George nodded. “There are many vigilante groups, but the Ku Klux Klan seems to have the ability to organize that the others lack.” He changed the subject. “You said President Johnson vetoed this most recent Reconstruction Act?”

  “I think we can safely assume he will veto everything this Congress has to put forward,” Matthew dryly.

  “Will they attempt to impeach him?”

  Matthew looked surprised again. “I suspect it will come to that, but only time will tell if they succeed.” He fixed his eyes on George. “I don’t remember you being involved in discussions when you were living in Richmond.”

  George met his eyes squarely. “I had nothing to add because I knew nothing.” He reached out and touched Janie’s arm. “Your wife taught me how to read.”

  Matthew turned to stare at Janie. “You never told me.”

  Janie smiled. “George has taken his ability to read far beyond what I could have envisioned.” Indeed, he had. She also knew his level of knowledge was directly related to how marginalized he had felt most of his life as a woman.

  “There are too many people who let others make decisions for them,” George said quietly. “Our country is where it is today because too many have abdicated responsibility, but then we complain because it’s not the way we want it to be.”

  “How do you believe people should take responsibility?” Matthew probed.

  Janie hid her smile as she watched her husband go into full journalistic mode.

  “Knowledge,” George said promptly. “No one is truly entitled to an opinion unless they have the knowledge to support it. It’s easy to listen to someone and say you have knowledge, but it takes more than that. You have to dig to find the truth. You have to listen to more than one side before you can say you have an opinion.” His blue eyes burned with passion, and now that he had an audience, he seemed eager to speak. “Too many people in this country still don’t know how to read. That makes them easy targets for manipulation because they think they have to rely on someone else to discover the truth. There are also people who can read but decide it’s easier to let someone tell them what to think or believe. I believe they are the worst ones because they don’t have an excuse other than laziness.”

  “You know most people are lazy, don’t you?” Matthew asked somberly.

  George sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I do. However, I would have to add that I believe the people who are currently voting are lazy. I don’t believe blacks will be lazy because this is the chance they have been waiting for. I also don’t believe women would be lazy.”

  “So you believe women should have the vote?”

  “Absolutely. It’s a complete travesty that women can’t vote! I believe our whole country would be different if they could.”

  Matthew smiled. “No wonder my wife likes you so much. You are welcome at our dinner table any time.”

  Janie was glad when she saw George relax. He had stiffened when he had made his last comment, concerned, Janie was sure, that he was revealing too much. She decided to turn the attention away from him for a while.

  “What article are you working on now, dear?”

  Matthew smiled. “Something I find fascinating. The Philadelphia Inquirer has asked me to do an exposé on the role of women who passed as men during the war.”

  Janie felt George stiffen again, but she forced herself to remain relaxed. There was nothing in her husband’s expression that said he suspected anything. She was quite sure Matthew would have no trouble with George’s real identity, but it was not her secret to reveal. “I see,” she said casually, wondering if there was a way to change the subject without it appearing obvious. She was surprised when George spoke up.

  “Were there many?”

  “Far more than I would have expected,” Matthew answered. “They served in every area of the armies, even as soldiers.”

  “Fascinating,” George murmured, his voice laced with shocked surprise. “How could they possibly have hidden something like that?”

  Janie ducked her head to hide her smile. Perhaps George should go into the theater, instead of hiding his acting talents in a clothing factory.

  “It doesn’t seem to have been as hard as I would have suspected,” Matthew mused. “Both the armies had strict rules about no women, but their inspection of recruits was far less stringent. They also accepted just about anyone who had teeth in their head once the war dragged on, especially in the South. They had young boys whose voices hadn’t changed and who still had smooth faces, so females didn’t stand out like you would expect. Women who wanted to join up did all kinds of things to find their place in battle. They bound their breasts, they wore loose, layered clothing, cut their hair short, and rubbed dirt on their faces. They claimed to be male, and the armies accepted them.”

  “They must have made poor soldiers,” George said disdainfully.

  “Far from it,” Matthew responded. “It seems they performed admirably.”

  Janie couldn’t believe the conversation had taken this turn, but there was nothing she could do to stop it, so she just sat back and listened.

  “It’s impossible to know how many there were, at least at this point in time,” Matthew continued. “There were women soldiers who served during the Revolutionary War, too, but we didn’t know about them until long after the war ended. I suspect it will be decades before we know enough to put a number on it.”

  “How were the women in the Revolutionary War discovered?” Janie asked. She had been completely unaware of this fact.

  “They finally came forward and told their stories,” Matthew replied. “Evidently, they didn’t want to die without someone knowing the truth about what they had done. The women were quite proud of their contribution.”

  “As they should have been,” Janie said firmly, wondering if George would ever reveal the truth about who he was.

  “I read about a doctor in England who hid his identity,” George added suddenly.

  “Oh?” Matthew asked.

  “It was discovered only two years ago,” George replied. “A woman in London was asked to lay out the body of an eminent physician who had just died. His name was Doctor James Barry.”

  Matthew’s eyes widened. “The Inspector General of Military Hospitals?”

  It was George’s turn to look surprised. “You know who he was?”

  “He held the highest medical rank in the British Army. I understood he died of dysentery.”

  “That’s true,” George confirmed. “What they didn’t reveal was that Dr. James Barry was actually a woman, and had even borne a child at some point.”

  Matthew sat back against his chair. “I had no idea.” His eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”

  George smiled. “I’m glad you’re suspicious,” he said. “I could, of course, be making it all up. However, the woman who discovered his true identity is Sophia Bishop. She waited until after the funeral to reveal what she had discovered. It made the newspapers, but the government covered it up rather quickly because they were embarrassed.”

  “You could still be making this up,” Matthew observ
ed.

  George was not offended. “Sophia Bishop is the sister of a woman I work with. I met her recently and did some research to learn more.”

  “Such as?”

  “Dr. James Barry was actually Margaret Ann Bulkley. She always wanted to be a doctor, but females were barred from medical school.”

  “I know what that is like,” Janie commented, fascinated by the story.

  “Her family had influential friends who hatched a plan for her to enter medical school disguised as a man. Once she qualified, she discovered she could go to Venezuela and actually practice as a female doctor. She was only fourteen when she entered medical school.”

  “Fourteen?” Janie echoed in disbelief.

  “She was quite extraordinary,” George agreed. “Anyway, one of the family friends who was going to open the doors to Venezuela died. At some point, she decided to continue living as a man, and she joined the British Army Medical Corps.”

  “Extraordinary,” Matthew breathed. “He had no distinguishing qualities to make people suspicious?”

  George smiled. “Actually, he had a rather high-pitched voice, and I learned he wore three-inch-high inserts in his shoes because he was only five feet tall. He wore oversized clothing and evidently was very difficult to get along with, especially if you mentioned his voice.”

  “He was definitely hard to get along with,” Matthew said. “It was almost legendary.” His forehead tightened in thought as he tried to remember what he had read. “He had extraordinary medical accomplishments, but I also read he had more than his fair share of arrests, demotions, and charges of insubordination that seemed to overshadow that.”

  “Or perhaps they are focusing on that because they don’t want anyone to discover who he really was,” George said blandly.

  “Which is rather ridiculous,” Matthew countered. “Man or woman, he was still quite a physician. He won great acclaim as a surgeon, and I remember reading that he performed the first Caesarean section in Africa in which both mother and baby survived.”

  George regarded Matthew for a long moment, appreciation shining in his eyes. “That’s true,” he finally said.