“Or the continued supply of financial increase from your offspring,” Hannah grumbled, her usually smiling face stern. “Child, you have no idea the pain slavery causes.”
“Oh please!” Clara rose from her seat, wrapping her lacy shawl more tightly around herself as she glared at everyone in the room. “My pastor back home showed us in Scripture that God permits slavery!”
“Really?” Jayne asked, shocked at such a notion.
“Of course, if you read Scripture you would know that,” Clara replied condescendingly at Jayne before turning a victorious look at the Freemans as she stated, “In Ephesians six five, the Bible says, ‘slaves, obey your earthly masters with fear and trembling.’ And in Titus two nine, ‘tell slaves to be submissive to their masters and to give satisfaction in every respect.’”
“Are you sure you are quoting that correctly?” Jayne mumbled, embarrassed that she wasn’t sure.
“Of course I am!” Clara lifted her head and looked down her nose at Jayne and the others. “You don’t know how much better the slaves are treated today down South.”
“I believe the complete book of Exodus is about Moses who was sent by God to free the slaves,” Jayne's mother interjected quietly. “If God wanted people to be slaves, why would he have included that story in the Scriptures?”
Clara glared at her mother-in-law for a moment before turning toward the door. “Come, Jim. I believe I need to lie down.”
Jim, still silent, looked at each person in the room before he turned to follow his wife. Jayne saw the barely discernible nod that her brother gave to their father and realized that the two men must have spoken secretly at some point and had an understanding that others were not privy to.
“Clara is right on one thing anyway. South Carolina is calling for secession.” Jayne returned to her reading. “They plan to secede from the Union and declare themselves a separate nation.”
“How can one separate from the United States?” Hannah asked as she slowly rocked the chair before the fire. “It seems almost like a sin that a group of people would say they were no longer part of what they themselves had begun.”
“Well, the Revolutionary War was over one group of people not wanting to be under another country’s thumb,” her father said, shaking his head. “It’s like we are just fighting the same fight all over again but among ourselves.”
“No, this time their livelihood is being affected. They want to keep their slaves, and the new president don’t want them to,” Mary interjected as she entered the room. She placed a shawl on Hannah’s shoulders before picking up from the basket beside Hannah’s chair the doily she was tatting. “I’m not sure Mr. Lincoln really plans on ending slavery.”
“What did you say?” George barked, rocking his chair in unison with his wife and lifting his hand to his ear. “What about bravery?”
“Not bravery, slavery!” Jayne's father shouted. “Mary does not think Mr. Lincoln actually plans on ending slavery.”
Pete entered the room and, hearing his friend's comment, made one of his own as he went to stand by his wife. “Mr. Frederick Douglass states that the president does not agree with abolitionist’s ways, and he only wants new states comin’ into the Union to be free states. That’s not stoppin’ slavery.”
“Well, it may not be stoppin’ it yet.” George rocked a little harder as he stared into the fire, his head slowly nodding. “But Mr. Lincoln is gonna do more than any other president has done.”
“That’s to be seen,” Mary mumbled.
“What did you say?” George turned toward Mary, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Speak up, girl! Since when have you been so quiet? I remember when you be yelling and screaming with laughter instead of sittin’ so quiet like. You sick?”
“You could say I am, Pappa George.” Mary dropped the doily back in the basket, rose from her seat, and walked from the room, her voice fading into the distance. “I’m right sick of waiting for someone to do something for them poor folks down South.”
“You know, you’d think Mary was Hannah’s blood kin by the way she is.” George smiled at the others in the room. “Her Momma Hannah does the same thing—walks away while talking, never givin’ a man a chance to answer.”
“That’s so they can have the last word, I guess.” Pete laughed.
“No guessin’ about it, boy.” Hannah leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, wearing a smile similar to the one still playing across George’s lips. “No guessin’ about it at all.”
Everyone was temporarily distracted from the drama as Jayne's mother served another round of steaming cups of tea, and her father waved Jayne to continue. After taking a sip of her tea and picking up another paper, she began again, “The Secretary of War, John Floyd, has replaced Colonel John Gardner, the garrison commander at Fort Moultrie in South Carolina, with Major Robert Anderson on Nov twelfth, 1860.”
“President Buchanan and General-in-Chief Winfield Scott must have some say in this, I guess,” Pete commented as he reached for a small dainty and popped it into his mouth.
“It says here Anderson was serving in an academic committee in New York, and Colonel Gardner had been relieved of duty and was sent to Texas.”
“Replacing a soldier with someone serving as an academic? At such a time as this when South Carolina is threatening to secede? Is that wise?” Her mother asked as she returned to her seat.
“Anderson is a good soldier, dear,” Jayne's father replied. “He is a true example of the best from West Point, where honor is considered a virtue. I believe he has fought in almost every war since the 1830s. The Blackhawk Indian wars, the Seminole War of 1837, and the Mexican War of 1846. If I am not mistaken, he was severely wounded storming the gates to Mexico City and the Molino del Rey bastion.”
“Why, Father, this man must be old!” Jayne exclaimed. “Can he still do the commanding of an important military outpost?”
“I believe, my dear, he and I are the same age. Not everyone ages as badly as I have.”
“Oh, Father,” Jayne protested. “You are not that old! You still have that twinkle in your eyes when you look at Mother.”
“Jayne!” Her mother tried to look serious as she reproached her daughter, but her lips twitched. “You must never mention a person’s age, or their twinkle!”
“Yes, Mother.” Jayne smiled, unrepentant, before returning to the original discussion. “With no disrespect, Father, is not this Anderson a bit long in the tooth to be doing such important work?”
“I believe that age and his long army experience is exactly what is needed,” her father replied. “With Anderson, as long as he lives and wears the uniform of a United States army officer, you can be guaranteed he will act in a manner fitting a man serving his country.”
“Well, in the December twentieth newspaper, the governor of South Carolina telegraphed a message to President Buchanan to state that the Ordinance of Succession was now official and that the Union army was to leave Fort Moultrie and Fort Sumter and turn the forts over to the South Carolina government.” Jayne stopped to ask, “Does this mean Anderson is to just walk away and abandon the forts?”
“It sounds like that.” Her father frowned. “The country is going crazy, and they are expecting military men to do the same.”
“The paper also says . . .” Jayne skimmed the paper before continuing with the news. “The garrison’s commander, Major Robert Anderson, relying for authority on written orders drafted by Carlos Buell and signed by Secretary of War John Floyd, decided to move his force across the harbor to Fort Sumter.
“The very next issue of December twenty-sixth, 1860, states Major Robert Anderson, commanding two companies of the U.S. Army’s First Artillery Regiment, orchestrated the movement of the soldiers from Fort Moultrie, on Sullivan’s Island, to Fort Sumter in the middle of the harbor mouth. The movemen
t involved two light steam vessels, which carried the wives, children, and supplies, and six barges for the passage of the men. These vessels were moored at the wharf in front of Fort Moultrie and were loaded in full sight of the Carolinians, both those on land as well as those operating patrol boats in the harbor. The light steam vessels, as well as the barges, had been leased from the Carolinians.”
“They weren’t even given the dignity of an honorable retreat?” Jayne's father sounded disgusted.
“What do you mean, Father?” Jayne asked.
“A couple of cannon shots or a volley of gunshots would have been better than just being watched and probably laughed at. Thankfully, the reporter had the courtesy not to mention that disgrace as well.”
“Directly after Anderson’s occupation of Fort Sumter, the Carolina authorities took possession of the federal arsenal, the customhouse, the post office, and Fort Moultrie. Fortifications and batteries were rapidly built around Fort Sumter, measures were taken to obstruct entrance into the harbor, and Anderson’s access to supplies was cut off.
“On December twenty-eighth, in Washington, President Buchanan held a rancorous cabinet meeting.”
“Rancorous?” George asked. “What kinda meeting is that?”
“Apparently, there was shouting and arguing going on. Not very gentlemanly like,” Jayne's father explained.
“Black, Holt, and Stanton vigorously defended Anderson’s decision to move the garrison from one fort to the other. My, I could just imagine the words that were really said between them.” Jayne commented before she continued to read. “Floyd, Thompson, and Thomas just as angrily responded that Anderson had acted without orders. The order Buell had drafted and Floyd had signed was produced and read. It stated, ‘Whenever you have evidence of a design to proceed to a hostile act, you may act in your discretion as you think bet.’”
“I wonder how anyone could possibly believe that this fighting could cause a compromise to be reached?” Jayne's mother interjected, shaking her head. “If this is how people treat each other down in the South, Jim must have a rough time with his different beliefs.”
“Clearly, another reason why Jim was silent about things up here.” Jayne's father stated, before waving for Jayne continue.
“Floyd raged that Anderson had no evidence of such a design and demanded that Buchanan order Anderson out of Sumter. When Buchanan refused, on the grounds that Anderson had nowhere to go—the Carolinians having by then occupied Fort Moultrie—it appears Floyd abruptly resigned his position and left the Cabinet Room.”
“When those we vote into office act this way . . .”Jayne's father moaned “There should be unity.”
“On January ninth, 1861, Star of the West came to bring supplies to Fort Sumter. After taking fire from Fort Moultrie and the Citadel Battery, it turned back to sea.”
Jayne looked up at her father, her voice shaking. “Father, this makes no sense! One person is saying one thing and another says the opposite. What was Mr. Anderson supposed to do? What does this mean?”Her mother leaned over Jayne’s shoulder to read farther. “South Carolina saw Abraham Lincoln as a threat to their way of life. And Mississippi seceded from the Union the same day as the attack on the supply boat.”
“It means, Jayne,” her father sighed sadly, “that this country is under attack by its own citizens. God help us all.”
Chapter 8
Clara undoubtedly could not accept “the ways of the North” as she put it, and Jayne watched each new drama as it unfurled. It appeared that almost every day something new angered the woman until all felt the need to tread softly to appease her.
But once again, Clara stood before them, looking as if she was going to argue over the color of the table linen Jayne's mother had offered her to embroider. To Jayne and her mother’s astonishment, Clara suddenly turned and rushed from the room.
Jayne understood immediately when she saw that Clara was barely out the door of the parlor when Jim entered the house. Obviously the young woman had seen her husband approaching through the window and decided to play upon his sympathies, which Jayne believed were beginning to wane.
With a dramatic cry, Clara flung herself into his arms. For a moment Jim looked concerned, until he glanced at Jayne, who stood in the open doorway, and he most likely heard the familiar voices in the other room.
“I see that another clash between the states has occurred.” Jim smiled apologetically at his sister as he carefully untangled himself from Clara’s clinging arms. Gently, he led his wife into their bedroom.
Jayne hesitated for just one moment, but could not resist the temptation and tiptoed over to the partially closed door and peeked in.
As Clara sniffled and daintily blew her nose, Jim stared out the window. He looked tired, but the slump of his shoulders gave Jayne the feeling that something heavier than his wife’s latest temper tantrum was on his mind.
“Clara, my dear.” Jim opened and closed his mouth, as if trying to find a simple way to tell a hard thing. Finally, he blurted, “Clara, I must return tomorrow to South Carolina, and I must return alone.”
“What did you say?” Clara’s hysterics instantly halted as she stared at her husband. “You cannot possibly leave me here.”
“I can, and I must.” Jim’s words were harsh in their briefness, but he tried to smile sympathetically to soften them.
“I . . . I must get back to South Carolina, Jim.” Clara began to pace the small room, her crinoline skirt flaring out dramatically with every sharp turn executed in her march of agitation. “I must return to my family. My loyalty is with them.”
“What about your loyalty to my family?”
“You do not understand.” Clara’s voice became a whine. “I do not belong here with these people!”
“These people, as you so rudely put it, are my family.” Jim’s voice became sharp as he reprimanded her. “If not for any other reason than that, I expect a little respect from you, since loyalty is beyond your capabilities.”
“Oh, Jim.” Clara’s tone quickly turned into a soothing purr, and Jayne’s stomach quivered in disgust at the apparent falseness in her sister-in-law’s voice. “I meant no disrespect. I know you love them but—”
“I see no reason for a ‘but,’ Clara.” Jim did not appear so easily swayed by his wife’s sweet talk as he had been just a few short weeks before.
“But, Jim!” Clara’s voice rose once again. “You plan on returning to Charleston. Why can I not go with you?”
“Because, my dear, there is danger down there at this time. Since the secession of South Carolina, other states may follow. There seems a good possibility there will be war. I do not wish to have you in harm’s way.”
“But you plan on going back!”
“I have a position I promised to return to. I cannot abandon the patients who seek medical help. You, on the other hand, need to be protected from any dangers that may arise.”
“And you believe I will be safer with people who hate me and my ways?”
“No one hates you, Clara,” Jim snapped. “Please stop being theatrical.”
“I am not!” Clara cried out again. “I just want to go home . . . with you!”
Jim silently stared at the large tears that glistened on the corner of her eyes. Jayne, not missing the quick addition at the end of Clara’s plea, watched her brother’s shoulders sink even farther as he clearly realized it was not him Clara wanted to be with. She wanted her own family, away from this one with its ties to people so different than any she could accept.
“Please, Jim!” Clara grabbed his arm and shook it. “I need to go home.”
“Clara . . .” Jim hesitated, and Jayne saw that his own love for his wife was apparently causing him to consider taking Clara with him. Looking in, Jayne bit her lip to keep from crying out because he was reconsidering his de
cision.
“Oh, Jim, you won’t regret taking me with you!” Clara must have sensed Jim’s change of heart. The small smile that crossed her lips was one of victory. “I’ll start packing right now.”
Turning on her heels, Clara rushed toward the armoire and threw open its doors. Grabbing a handful of her petticoats, she spun around to deposit them on the bed, when suddenly all color drained from her cheeks, and she swayed on her feet before crumbling to the floor.
Jayne rushed in the door when Clara collapsed. Jim paused as he stared at Jayne, causing her cheeks to heat at being caught eavesdropping, but he made no reference to her sudden appearance as he scooped his wife off the floor and placed her onto their bed. His only words were, “Please fetch my wife a cup of tea.”
“W-what happened?” Clara mumbled a short while later, regaining consciousness as Jayne approached the bed, holding a cup of tea. Standing by her brother’s side, Jayne wondered how long she would have to wait to be chastised for her actions, but at that moment Jim was more concerned about his wife than his wayward, nosy sister. Clara’s eyes slowly grew wider as she looked down at herself and saw she now was in her nightclothes and in bed. She struggled to sit up, but Jim gently pushed her back onto her pillows.
Jayne stepped over and placed the teacup on the nightstand, not looking at either person in the room.
“Rest, my love.” Jim smiled down at Clara. “You must rest.”
“What is wrong with me?” Clara asked, her eyes filling with fear. “Tell me.”
“There is nothing wrong that time will not heal.”
“What does that mean?” Clara snapped, plainly not liking Jim’s nonchalant attitude concerning her health. Jayne herself was amazed at his calmness.
“It means, my dear . . .” Jim sat on the edge of the bed and planted a quick kiss to her pouting mouth. “It means you are with child. Did you not realize that?”
Secret Way to the Heart Page 8