Always Forward

by Ginny Dye

  “Would you have wanted Robert to die alone?”

  “Of course not!” Carrie cried. She remembered the look of stark relief on his face when he had opened his eyes and seen her. She could still hear his sigh of gratitude when she had climbed into bed with him and took him in her arms. “I couldn’t let Robert die alone,” she whimpered.

  “Did he have two more hours to live?” Abby pressed.

  Carrie knew what she was doing. She wanted to ignore the questioning, preferring the searing pain that almost made the guilt comfortable. Dr. Wild had explained everything to her after she regained consciousness—the miracle of Robert living long after he should have succumbed to his injuries. Her mind had heard it, but her heart had kept it locked away. “No,” she whispered.

  “Then you didn’t really have a choice,” Abby said quietly.

  Fresh rage rose in Carrie. She pushed away and stood, moving over to stare at the river defiantly. “Why did I have to choose? Why did my choice to be with Robert mean that Bridget had to die?” The questions continued to rampage through her mind. Would she have still ridden home if she had known the price she would pay? Would her love for Robert have overridden her concern for a child she had never seen? The very questions made bile rise to her throat. “Why did I have to choose?” she almost screamed.

  Abby stepped up to her side but didn’t reach out to touch her, seeming to know Carrie needed to stand alone in her agony. “You’ll never know the answer to that question,” she said regretfully. “All of us may want to know, but we’ll never have an answer.”

  “So I just accept it?” Carrie asked bitterly. “Accept that God knows best?” Even speaking the words made her angry. “That’s not fair!” She clenched her fists. “Does God hate me so much? Am I such a horrible person?” The rage evaporated into a fresh surge of grief that stole her breath. “Oh…” She groaned as she leaned over. Abby reached out now. She wrapped her arms around Carrie, holding her close while a fresh spate of tears filled her eyes.

  Carrie blinked them back, preferring to focus on the anger that at least made her feel alive. “I hate God!” she cried.

  Abby nodded. “He knows.”

  Carrie gasped and waited for Abby to say more. The only sound was the wind through the trees. “That’s all you are going to say?” she managed. The guilt she already felt was only amplified by her stark pronouncement.

  “That’s all,” Abby replied, a trace of amusement easing the sorrow in her voice. “Do you think God doesn’t know how you feel?”

  Carrie considered the question. Merely screaming the words had eased some of her pain. “I think some things are better not said,” she finally replied.

  Abby shrugged. “I used to feel that way,” she admitted. “Then I decided that as long as God knows what I’m feeling anyway, I might as well be honest about it. Saying it can’t possibly be worse than feeling it. I figure if God can’t take a little honesty, then he shouldn’t be God.”

  Carrie stared at her stepmother, completely taken aback.

  “Carrie, I know you are not ready to believe this, but I’m going to keep telling you what I’m about to say because one day you will be ready to hear it.”

  Carrie looked at her, certain she knew what Abby was going to say. She wasn’t going to believe it for a minute, but the moment’s reprieve the words might provide, even though her heart knew they weren’t true, made it worth listening to.

  “You are not responsible for Robert’s death,” Abby said. “Dr. Wild has explained it to you, but right now the guilt you are feeling somehow makes the pain a little more bearable.”

  Carrie blinked and looked at her more closely. There was something more in her voice…

  Abby sighed. “When cholera struck Philadelphia almost eleven years ago, Charles wanted to leave the city. He insisted it was the only way to stay healthy. Some friends had invited us to their mountain home for the summer.” She paused, staring out over the churning waves. “I didn’t want to go,” she said. “I can’t even remember why now. I just didn’t want to go. Charles always let me have my way, so we stayed in the city. And he died,” she finished in a flat voice. “Because I wouldn’t leave.”

  Carrie reached down and took Abby’s hand, somehow able to move past her own pain to understand what a terrible burden this was. She also finally realized that Abby understood the weight of the grief and guilt that was destroying her. That knowledge helped in some small way. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Me, too,” Abby said quietly. “You see, while Robert’s death is truly not your fault, it was most assuredly my fault that Charles died.”

  “He could have gotten sick in the mountains, too,” Carrie protested, though her mind told her it wouldn’t have been likely.

  Abby’s look revealed she knew the truth. “Charles forgave me,” she said. “Before he became too sick to speak, he told me he loved me, that he was sorry to leave me, and that he would always be watching me.”

  Carrie gasped. That was what Robert had told her, too.

  “Our husbands loved us, Carrie,” Abby said. “And they knew we loved them.”

  Carrie’s mind said Abby was speaking the truth, but her heart told her it was too soon to even hear the message. There was a small part of her that could accept the reality that she had not been responsible for Robert’s death, but there was little doubt she was guilty of Bridget’s death. “I wish I could do it over again,” she admitted.

  Abby pulled her around to face her. “Do you really?” Her gray eyes probed her heart. “Would you have made a different choice?”

  Carrie stared back, wishing she could run away from this conversation. They had already discussed this, but the horror of her impossible choice was also impossible to loose. She swung around and looked out at the water. Would she have let Robert die alone if she had known Bridget would die? She forced herself to face the question honestly, certain either answer would be devastating, but at least she would be facing it head on.

  “If God had come to stand before you, and told you that you had to choose between Bridget dying, or making sure Robert did not die alone, what would you have chosen?” Abby’s voice was more insistent.

  “How can you ask me that question?” Carrie implored with a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Because you need to answer it.”

  “Why?” Carrie knew she was stalling, but she couldn’t bring herself to put her thoughts into words.

  Abby remained silent.

  Carrie scowled, but now that the question had been put to her so plainly, she knew what choice she would have made. Memories flooded through her as she thought about Robert… His laughing eyes. The tender look on his face when he was watching her. The pride he expressed in who she was. The warmth of his kisses. The joy of his lovemaking. The courage to change his beliefs when reality showed him a different truth. His closeness with Amber. His easy camaraderie with her father, and with Moses and Rose. She sucked in her breath as she thought of their riding through the snow on New Year’s Day and returning home to discover she was pregnant.

  “I would never have let Robert die alone,” she said, tears filling her eyes as she accepted the truth. “No matter what price I had to pay, I had to be there to tell my husband good-bye.”

  Abby nodded. “Then you made the right choice, my dear.”

  Carrie wished there was something about those words that made her feel better. Something about the realization that made losing Bridget bearable. Each emotion was equally powerful. As glad as she was that she had been with her husband at the end, the pain of losing him and Bridget made the gladness so miniscule it could hardly be taken into consideration.

  Abby read her thoughts and gripped her hands tightly. “I know none of this makes you feel better…at least not now. The time will come, though, when your heart will be ready to accept what you have discovered today. In the meantime, you must focus on getting through each day in a world that is dark and full of pain.”

  Abby’s f
inal words gave Carrie what she needed. The pain still took her breath away; she knew it would for a long time. She knew everything she saw on the plantation was going to cause hurt. Someday, perhaps, that would change, but she couldn’t see it now.

  “Your father had to leave the plantation,” Abby murmured. “He had to get away.”

  Now, for the first time, Carrie understood her father’s need to flee the plantation when her mother died, but she shook her head fiercely. “I won’t leave.” Leaving would be like casting aside her heart, her memories, and the graves of the ones she loved. “I’m staying,” she said in a voice that she knew held desperation.

  Abby nodded. “I understand.”

  *******

  Nothing more was said for a very long time.

  Abby laid out the food Annie had prepared. Carrie forced herself to eat some of it, but she didn’t taste a single bite. She gazed idly at Granite and Maple as they munched on the lush grass, and then she turned to stare out at the water again. She knew Abby was willing to sit in silence with her. For that, she was grateful.

  When they finally left, after watching the sunset over the river, she felt no peace, but at least she felt she had been granted a brief reprieve.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rose was still not certain she should leave the plantation. She knew Abby felt the same way, but she had said she still intended on going to New York City after she had returned from her time with Carrie the day before. Neither woman had said anything when they returned from the river, but Rose had felt what seemed like a slight release in her best friend. Still, all Rose could do was stare at the pile of clothing on the bed waiting for her to pack.

  “Them clothes ain’t gonna jump in that satchel all by themselves.”

  Rose managed a brief smile when her mother-in-law’s voice sounded from the open doorway. “I know,” she admitted. “I want to go to the ERA Convention, but I can’t imagine leaving Carrie.”

  “You reckon you can do any more than you been doin’? Annie asked.

  “I suppose not,” Rose replied, wondering if she had accomplished anything at all since Robert and Bridget’s death. Carrie was like a walking corpse. She was breathing, but it was the only real evidence of life. She never talked, and she avoided everyone in the house as much as she could. There were times Rose had been able to sit with her on the porch, just watching the day or listening to the crickets, but silence seemed to be the only thing Carrie wanted. Rose was happy to give it to her, but there were times she felt…

  “Miss Carrie needs the two of you to leave,” Annie said bluntly.

  Rose’s head shot up. How had Annie read her thoughts?

  “That girl needs time to be alone with her grief,” Annie said, her gruff voice softening. “This house been so full of people, I ‘magine she feels like she has to put up some kind of front all the time. She loves you and Miss Abby, but she also knows how concerned you are about her. The two of you need to skedaddle so she ain’t got to do nothin’ more than she wants to do.”

  Rose listened closely. Annie had suffered the death of her husband and one of her daughters before having the rest of her children ripped away from her on the auction block. Then Sadie had been killed in the Philadelphia fire. More than anyone in the house, Annie knew the burden of grief.

  Annie walked forward to take one of her hands. “I’m here for Miss Carrie,” she said firmly. “If she needs anything, I’m right here.”

  Rose took comfort from her words, but another thought made her frown.

  “What you thinkin’, Rose?”

  “Back when Carrie first found out she was pregnant we were talking about something my mama said.” Rose hesitated, but Annie remained silent, waiting for her to finish. “Mama said it took great suffering to be a great woman.”

  Annie nodded as she eyed her keenly.

  “Do you believe that’s true, Annie?”

  “Don’t matter none what I believe,” Annie retorted. “What do you believe?”

  “I believe I wish it weren’t true,” Rose admitted, determined to keep the whine out of her voice.

  “Don’t we all?” Annie muttered. “I don’t care to be any greater a woman than I am right now.”

  Rose felt a warm rush of affection. She couldn’t have agreed more. “I love you, Annie.”

  Annie gazed at her, a surprised pleasure shining in her eyes. “And I love you, Rose. I reckon my son made a real good choice when he done chose you.”

  Rose smiled, realizing that was the most complimentary sentence that had ever come out of her mother-in-law’s mouth. She knew Annie loved her, but the older woman was not comfortable expressing her feelings. Rose decided now was a good time to bring up a subject she and Moses had been discussing just the night before. “It seems to me like someone is wanting to choose you.”

  Annie scowled. “What nonsense you be talkin’ now?”

  Rose smiled. She hadn’t missed the flash in Annie’s eyes. “Unless Miles eats enough for ten men, he seems to spend a lot more time in the kitchen than he needs to,” she observed.

  “That man do like to eat,” Annie replied with a chuckle.

  “I think he prefers to watch the cook,” Rose retorted.

  Annie ducked her head. “It’s pure nonsense. We both be too old for nonsense.”

  “Now that is nonsense,” Rose replied. She would never forget the shine in her mama’s eyes when John returned to the plantation after eighteen years of their being apart. “You’re never too old to love,” she added quietly. “Miles doesn’t seem to think he’s too old.”

  Annie started to scowl again, but the look in her eyes softened. “That Mr. Miles be a real fine man,” she said.

  “I agree,” Rose said firmly. “And not that it matters,” she added, “but Moses happens to think so, too.”

  Annie peered at her. “That so?”

  “That’s so.” Rose began to stuff clothing in her satchel. She would let Annie ponder what to do about Miles. She had a trip to get ready for. “Thank you for taking care of Carrie.”

  “You just go up there and make somethin’ happen toward women gettin’ the vote,” Annie commanded. “I be real tired of livin’ in a country that men made such a mess of!”

  Rose laughed. “We’ll do our best, because I happen to totally agree with you!”

  ********

  Rose smiled when the spires of the Richmond churches, thrusting up from the hills of the city, came into view. “I haven’t been into the city in such a long time,” she said brightly, before her smile fell.

  “Don’t,” Abby said. “You are not going to feel guilty for feeling happiness when Carrie is in so much pain.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes as she turned to stare at Abby. “Carrie told me you can read minds.”

  “I’m not reading your mind,” Abby said with a soft laugh. “I’m telling myself the exact same thing. I could see it in your eyes. I would give up my own happiness if I thought it would make Carrie feel better, but it won’t. I have to focus on living my own life, and I have to love her as hard as I can to give her the courage to live hers.” She took a deep breath. “I love Richmond, and I’m about to see my husband for the first time in two weeks. What’s not to be happy about?”

  Rose agreed, but she still couldn’t shake the image of Carrie’s haunted eyes as she had watched them leave early that morning from the window of her room. “At least I know she will be safe,” she murmured.

  “You can count on that,” Jeb said firmly as he turned back to look at them from the driver’s seat of the carriage. “Moses would have brought you, but he refuses to leave the plantation.”

  “I know,” Rose agreed, relieved to know there was a constant guard of men around the house at all times. It made the long days in the fields even longer for those who were pulling guard duty, but not one man had complained. A contingent of white parents was doing the same thing, both day and night, for the school. The fateful night of Robert’s death had strengthened the bond betwe
en the white families and black families that formed her school, and most especially with the students. She had feared the attack by the vigilantes would have the opposite result, but the reality had planted hope in her for the future.

  “Are Southerlin and Stowe still in jail?” Jeb asked.

  “They are,” Abby assured him. “The letter that came from Thomas yesterday said that even though Sheriff Horn is sympathetic to the vigilantes, he couldn’t very well ignore a clear confession while he was listening. They were brought to the jail here in Richmond the day after all of you visited Southerlin.”

  “That was a real good plan Mr. Cromwell came up with,” Jeb said enthusiastically. “I was real glad I got to be a part of it.”

  “He couldn’t have done it without all of you,” Abby said warmly.

  “You reckon they’ll be in jail a long time?”

  “Long enough to make the vigilantes think more than once before they do something again,” Abby said, “but no one is going to take anything for granted.”

  Rose wished Abby’s confident statement made her feel better, but all it did was bring the horror of that night back into stark relief in her mind. She could hear the yells, the sound of gunfire, and the pounding hoof beats. She saw Amber stumble from the door of the barn in confusion, and then she could see Robert flying through the air to protect the little girl he loved so much. She shuddered, grateful when she felt Abby grip her hand. The older woman remained silent, but the simple connection enabled her to focus again on the vivid sunshine of the day.

  ********

  They were on the train to Philadelphia when Abby brought up the subject Rose was trying her hardest to avoid.

  “How are you doing with Robert’s death?”

  Rose remained silent for long moments, watching the trees flash by, before she looked back at Abby. She searched for words, but all she could muster was a helpless shrug.

  Abby smiled gently. “You think your feelings can’t possibly be as important as Carrie’s.”