“She does seem to have captured their approval,” Lisbeth agreed. “I’m sorry, Sammy. We just have to make the best of it while we are here. Be kind to Willie and to Cousin Johnny,” she said. “Maybe our kindness will help Johnny to see a new way.”
Samuel shrugged. “Mr. William says he can take me and Willie to Tredegar if you say it is okay.”
“The factory where Mr. William works?” Lisbeth asked. “Is it safe?”
Samuel scrunched up his shoulders and said, “Miss Emily thinks it’s fine.” He stared up at her, hope in his eyes.
“All right. You may go,” Lisbeth agreed.
“Thanks, Momma!” Sammy said.
Sadie came running into the room, excitement in her eyes.
“Look, Momma! Auntie Julianne gave me a real locket!”
Sadie held the treasure out to Lisbeth. The silver locket had spiraling swirls engraved around a tiny diamond. Lisbeth pried it open with her fingernail. She choked in fury when she saw a small Confederate flag squirreled away on one side. A picture of a baby looked up at her from the other.
Sadie went on, oblivious to Lisbeth’s outrage. “Auntie Julianne says we are her only living relatives, so she wanted me to in—inhere?” Sadie changed tactics. “She wanted me to have it. To keep!” She twirled around and pulled up her hair, freshly braided in the French style that was becoming so popular. “Put it on me,” she demanded.
Lisbeth was torn. She didn’t want her daughter wearing that symbol around her neck. Sadie turned around and looked at her mother, telegraphing a silent message to hurry up. Lisbeth sighed. Her daughter was too young for a political conversation. Lisbeth would simply trade out that image for another.
Sammy grunted and repeated, “They do like Sadie! And I think she likes them right back.”
“Of course I do!” Sadie said. “They are my family, and I love them!”
Before coming here, Lisbeth would have been pleased to hear that sentiment from her daughter, but now she was uncomfortable with their influence on Sadie and her attachment to them. She’d prefer that both of her children were more neutral when it came to the Wainwrights. Sadie’s adoration was as unsettling as Sammy’s disdain.
CHAPTER 4
JORDAN
Ohio
Contrary to Mama’s worries, the trip from Ohio to Virginia was more tedious than scary. The roads were so muddy that they had to free themselves from puddles more than once, but they didn’t meet any hostilities on the route. The hardtack, dried meat, and dried fruit grew tiresome, but they were adequate to keep hunger at bay. Mama taught them to keep an eye out for edible plants to add to their meals. Wild mustard greens were the most common addition.
At the end of each day, getting the wagon a safe distance into the forest wasn’t easy. One night they stopped traveling so late that it was full dark by the time they were tucked into the trees. They made certain to leave more time after that. Sleeping crowded together in the back of the wagon took some getting used to, but after the first few nights Jordan learned to sleep outdoors, and she even came to appreciate it a bit.
This journey was certainly the farthest she had ever traveled from home. She’d been as far as Columbus, the state capital of Ohio, to the south and Cleveland to the north, but she had no memories of being so far east. She enjoyed seeing the changes in the scenery and found herself recognizing the differences between the various plants. For years Mama had been trying to teach her to recognize them and learn their uses, but she’d never taken an interest. Without much else to do on this journey, she found herself thinking about plants and grew excited each time she successfully named one.
Mama and Samuel both grew visibly agitated as they crossed the Ohio River into West Virginia. This part of the country wasn’t its own state until 1863, when it stayed in the Union rather than seceding with the land to the east. Seeing the tense look on Samuel’s face, Jordan realized he probably had more feelings about Virginia than he usually let on. Nothing changed dramatically on the other side, but the geographic marker meant something to Mama and Samuel that it didn’t mean to her.
Once they crossed into Virginia, though, the road changed dramatically. Some parts of it were even paved, and occasionally they were forced to pay a toll to proceed through turnstiles that were protected by pikes. Vestiges of the war showed along the turnpike. Samuel pointed out the clear-cut fields that were a telltale sign of troop camps. Guns, planks from broken-down wagons, and decomposing cloth dotted the road, and cannonballs were half buried in the dirt and shrubbery. A skeleton of a horse still attached to a rotting wagon by leather straps was particularly disturbing to Jordan. She looked at her brother to see if he was alarmed by this situation too.
“Is this close to where you fought?” Jordan asked Samuel.
“We were farther south, and east,” he said. “But it looked like this. And the air felt like this, the heat and the moisture.”
Samuel was confronting two painful parts of his past by coming back to Virginia. Like most of the returning soldiers, he kept the details of that experience buried deep, but Jordan knew it still affected him. He continued to have nightmares on occasion, though they had lessened over time, and none of them ever spoke about the sounds coming through the planks.
Instead of continuing east to the capital, they traveled the southern route, coming to the James River from the west. Soon they would be at Cousin Sarah’s on the Fair Oaks plantation. The dirt road that ran to Mama’s old home cut through thick forest. Behind the elm trees Jordan made out workers in the tobacco fields. The landscape was broken up by charred fields and trees that proved that Union soldiers had not simply passed through here, but had fought with fire, as well as guns and cannons.
“This here one a the first, an’ one a the last places there was fightin’,” Mama said, clicking her tongue in disapproval.
“It shows,” Samuel said.
“Here!” Mama directed Samuel. “This the way. Turn before we get to the big house.”
They started to turn off the main road onto a rutted trail. In the distance Jordan saw a huge columned house. Suddenly her heart hammered as she felt the enormity of where they were and what they were doing. Ahead was an actual plantation house, these workers had been enslaved, and blood had been spilled right here.
Mama’s eyes were round in fear, and she was biting her lip.
“Stop,” Mama whispered. “Don’ turn here; it too open, and we gonna get noticed. Go past the big house, and hide the wagon in the woods. We gonna walk back.”
Jordan noted Samuel’s hands shaking as he guided the horses along the muddy road.
“Do you remember this place?” Jordan asked her brother quietly.
His small nod told Jordan that he did. And his tight face showed her that he didn’t want to talk about it.
Samuel let out an audible sigh after he stopped the team in a stand of elm trees. Jordan looked at him with sympathy.
“I didn’t realize it would be so hard to be back,” he whispered.
His hands were still shaking. Jordan patted his arm, but she couldn’t think of any words of comfort. Being here elicited such strong emotions in her mother and her brother. She didn’t want to do or say anything that would cause them more concern.
Mama leaped out of the wagon. “Me and Jordan gonna walk over to get Sarah. You stay with the wagon, Samuel.”
A look of relief passed over Samuel’s face, but he asked, “You sure that’s safe, Mama?”
“We safer without a man. Less of a threat. You stayin’ put,” she declared.
Mama looked Jordan up and down, then surprised her by picking up a handful of dirt and rubbing it into Jordan’s dress, front and back.
“Muss up your head cover, and your shoes too,” Mama directed Jordan. “Then get on yo’ knees and crawl around a bit.”
“Mama, I’m filthy from traveling. Do I really need to get dirtier? What I actually need is a bath.”
Mama snorted. “You don’ know nothin’ about re
ally needing a bath. And travelin’ dirty ain’t the same as hard-work dirty.”
Jordan sighed. She looked back and forth between her mother and brother. They stared at her, waiting for her to comply.
“You want me to entirely ruin my dress?” Jordan asked.
“I tol’ you to wear yo’ oldest one,” Mama replied.
“It’s old, but I still like it,” Jordan replied.
“Well, you gotta like fittin’ in more than yo’ dress.”
Jordan took a breath. She reminded herself that she would not have to take orders from her mother for very much longer. She felt ridiculous getting down on her knees and disgusted crawling around in the dirt. She thought to herself that her mother was being overly cautious, and that this trip would soon be over.
After she stood up, Mama examined her, smeared a bit more dirt on her face, and nodded in satisfaction. Then Mama dirtied herself up. Watching her mother crawl on the ground, Jordan was flooded with humiliation. Moisture pushed at the back of her eyes. How could this woman, Sarah, possibly be worth this indignity?
“Take your shoes off. Leave ’em in the wagon,” Mama said, bending over to unlace her boots.
“No! Mama, no.” Tears burned in Jordan’s eyes. That was going too far. “I’m not walking barefoot. Please!” she begged.
Mama sighed. “All righ’. We gonna keep our shoes on.”
Jordan exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Mama.”
The older woman turned her attention to Samuel. “I hoping we jus’ find Sarah and walk out a there with her, but I don’ think it gonna be quite that easy. Don’ you fret if we gone awhile.”
Jordan’s brother looked up to heaven and back down. He seemed like he was about to say something when Mama spoke up again.
“Of course you gonna fret,” Mama corrected herself. “But jus’ sit tight. I know how to get back here. We gonna be gone over the night, maybe two. If we ain’t back by the day after ’morrow, then you head to Richmond for help.”
Samuel stared at her, looking overwhelmed with worry and confusion. He asked, “Who’s going to help me in Richmond?”
“The church,” Mama said. She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Samuel. “Pastor say they help folks like us.”
“You are certain you want me to stay here?” Samuel asked.
“You gonna raise more questions than we are,” Mama said. “So, yes. We all gonna be better off if you stay here.”
Samuel pulled Mama into a long embrace, then opened his arms to Jordan.
After he released them, Samuel looked at Jordan intently and reminded her, “If you see a White person, pretend you’re stupid. Never let them know you can read. The rules are different here.”
Samuel’s breathing was shallow, and he wiped his brow. His fear penetrated into Jordan more than Mama’s caution. She nodded and gave him a tight smile; then she followed her mother away from her brother.
CHAPTER 5
LISBETH
Richmond, Virginia
Lisbeth heard a thud come from the drawing room. She rushed in to find her mother standing over a glass. Mother stared in horror at the liquid seeping into the carpet.
“I will get a rag,” Lisbeth reassured her.
“I dropped my medicine!” Mother screeched. She barked to Lisbeth, “Get me more from your father’s bedside.”
Mother’s whole body shook. Ignoring her command, Lisbeth walked to the older woman’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hoping to be a calming influence. The twitching and panting did not lessen.
“I will send Emily for the doctor,” Lisbeth soothed, hiding her alarm at her mother’s demeanor.
“I do not want to see a doctor,” Mother growled. “I need my medicine! Get it now!”
Lisbeth stared at the frantic woman, uncertainty wrestling inside her.
“I know what I need, Elizabeth!” Mother grabbed Lisbeth’s wrist and dug in so hard it hurt. “Get me my medicine at once, or I will force you to leave this home, never to return again.” Hatred burned in her mother’s eyes. Lisbeth started to panic in the face of her mother’s intensity, but she took a deep breath. She would get the drops and then call for the doctor if need be.
Wrenching her arm free, she acquiesced with a small nod. “Please sit while I get it, so you do not fall.”
Mother clenched her jaw tight, ready to fight, but she let Lisbeth guide her to the davenport.
As Lisbeth walked to the stairs, rubbing her wrist, Mother called, “The dropper with the brown liquid!”
Lisbeth knew what her mother was asking for: the laudanum the doctor had brought to soothe her father’s pain. She returned with the glass bottle and started to pass it to her mother, but the older woman’s arms shook too intensely to take it.
“Give it to me!” Mother begged.
“Should I get a glass of water?” Lisbeth wondered.
Her mother answered the question by leaning forward with an open mouth, like a desperate baby bird. Lisbeth sat down on the sofa, unscrewed the top of the bottle, pulled the brown liquid into the dropper, and squeezed the serum under her mother’s quivering tongue. Mother closed her eyes and finally took in a deep breath. She nodded in satisfaction. Tension slowly left both women’s bodies.
“One more,” Mother urged.
Lisbeth complied.
“Usually one is enough,” Mother explained. “But your visit is impinging upon my calm.”
Lisbeth’s heart sank. For a week she’d worked hard to be helpful to her mother, encouraging her children to be lovely guests and keeping her differences of opinion to herself. But no matter her effort, Mother was disappointed by her, just as she had been during Lisbeth’s childhood.
“What is this medicine?” Lisbeth asked.
“It is for my nerves.” Mother’s voice took on a challenging tone. Lisbeth noticed she did not answer the question.
“The doctor prescribed it for you as well as Father?”
Mother nodded slowly. “Like him, I am often in need of calming these days.”
Mother’s eyes took on a dreamy quality. Her shoulders dropped, and she leaned back into the sofa. The quivering stopped, and her breathing slowed. Lisbeth shared her mother’s relief.
Mother studied Lisbeth’s face for far too long.
“I did not think you would come,” Mother said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I thought that you would feel no obligation toward us, despite all we have given you.”
“I am glad that you asked,” Lisbeth replied, realizing it was true. “I wish there only to be mutual fondness between us.”
“Why did you not come before?” Mother challenged.
Lisbeth felt heat rise in her. “I visited when Sammy was young, but you did not invite me again.”
“A mother should not have to beg for her daughter’s company.”
The words felt like a horse kick to the chest. Lisbeth bit her lip. She did not wish to engage in an argument.
“You are right. I should have visited sooner,” she agreed, hoping to appease her mother, “but the . . . conflict made it unsafe.”
“The conflict!” Mother snickered. “It sounds so harmless when you say that word. You have no idea the horrors, the absolute horrors I have lived through.”
“I am sorry, Mother. Truly I am,” Lisbeth said, and she meant it. She’d never wished any ill will to the family she left behind.
“When the inmates broke out from Libby Prison, I was so terrified that I did not sleep for days. Do you know what I lived through?”
Lisbeth shook her head. She hadn’t heard about her mother’s experience, but she knew that conditions at Libby had been horrific. It was second in notoriety only to Andersonville in Georgia. Union soldiers were kept in a former warehouse. The windows on some floors had bars but no glass to keep out the elements. The prisoners of war regularly suffered from outbreaks of diseases and malnutrition. Their newspaper celebrated when 109 Union soldiers escaped in 1864.
“I did n
ot want us to be murdered in our beds,” Mother explained, venom in her voice. She pointed her bony finger at Lisbeth. “In that very seat . . . I sat up all night . . . with a gun on my lap, ready to kill any Union soldier intent on harming us.”
Lisbeth took her mother’s hand, a spontaneous act of comfort. She’d never considered that the Libby prisoners would seem a threat to her family, though it was understandable now that she thought about it.
Mother continued without taking a break, grabbing her hand away from Lisbeth. “My son, my beloved son who stood by us, was put in prison, and we simply had to bear it. His crime? Protecting our way of life from invaders. I imagine you celebrated when you heard the news that your brother was in prison,” Mother hissed. “You certainly did not express outrage or do anything, anything, to help secure his release.”
The force of Mother’s anger was nearly a physical blow. Lisbeth repressed the urge to defend herself. Contrary to her mother’s charge, she had not celebrated Jack’s imprisonment. She’d been concerned for him throughout the war. However, she was also aware that the prison that held Confederate officers, where Jack had been confined, was warm, with adequate food and medical supplies. In fact Lisbeth had worried less about Jack’s safety once he was a prisoner. And there was nothing she or Matthew could have done to secure his release.
Not wanting to argue or provoke her mother, Lisbeth sat quietly in the face of her mother’s fury. Mother stared at Lisbeth, her mouth pinched tight. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she relaxed against the davenport, her head leaning back, her face softening and her lids shut. Perhaps she was finished speaking of the war.
Her eyes still closed, Mother mumbled, her tone changing entirely, “I can see the flames in my mind’s eye. The doctor says I should put them out of my head, but it is nearly impossible—the drops are the only way to do that.”
Confused, Lisbeth waited for more, but when it didn’t come she quietly probed. “Flames?”
Mother brought her head forward. She blinked her eyes open, and she seemed surprised to see Lisbeth in the room. She furrowed her brows, then drawled out, “April 3, 1865, was the end—Richmond was no longer the capital, but an occupied city.”
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