by Lynn Austin
“Then we’ll go for a stroll.” He offered his arm and she took it, feeling like a girl again. But they didn’t progress very far before weeds and fallen branches stopped them, strewn across the pathway.
“This walk used to lead to the rose arbor. Remember how lovely it was, David? Now look at it. Maybe we should go inside, after all. It always upsets me to see how overgrown everything has become.”
“Is that a bench?” he asked. “Let’s sit there.” He took a moment to brush off the dirt and dead leaves, then they sat down together. “Are you certain you’ve been feeling well? You looked . . . preoccupied when I arrived.”
Eugenia hesitated before deciding to confide in him. “I just had a conversation with one of my slaves. He wants to begin planting cotton . . . sharecropping I suppose you’d call it. Daniel wouldn’t listen to him, so he approached me. He says he knows all about it and he even offered to find more workers.”
“It sounds like a good idea. Will you take him up on it?”
“I don’t know. It will make Daniel angry if I do.”
“It’s his own fault, not yours, if he won’t listen to reason. He’ll change his tune next fall when you have a cotton crop to sell.”
“You’re right. I think I will do it.” She smiled up at him and noticed his fair hair was too long and curling over his ears. She resisted the urge to tuck it back for him or to suggest a haircut. Both gestures seemed too intimate. David went against current fashion by not wearing a beard and a mustache, and she could see by the stubble that they would be gray if he did. Philip’s beard had also turned gray during the last terrible years of the war.
“Have you had any more episodes with your heart?” David asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“No, none at all, now that I think about it.” The realization surprised her. “I have been planning a dance here at White Oak, and I believe it has done me good. I took your advice, you see, and decided to participate in what you called normal activities. You know how I adored entertaining before the war.”
“So I heard. The parties and balls at White Oak were legendary.”
Eugenia realized her mistake. The doctor and his wife had never been invited to any of Eugenia’s formal affairs. With only a moderate income and no family history to speak of, the doctor was beneath her, socially. Philip enjoyed playing chess with David but would never dream of inviting the doctor to a social event. David and his wife had neither the wardrobe nor the social manners for a ball. But he had been kind to Eugenia these past few months, and she wanted to invite him. She enjoyed a high enough standing in the community that she could go against society’s norms if she wanted to.
“You must come to my dance, David. Bring a date, if you’d like.”
He laughed, a wonderfully rich, rumbling sound that brought a smile to her face and made her want to hear it again. “A date? Then people would know I’m not courting you. That was our plan, remember?”
She squeezed his arm. “Let’s keep them guessing. They’ll think you must be a very eligible bachelor indeed to be courting more than one woman at a time.” He wasn’t nearly as handsome as Philip had been, but he had a gentle nature and a tenderness that were endearing. He would make some fortunate widow a good husband—and there were plenty of widows for him to choose from. But if he did remarry, the woman would have to be a hard worker like his first wife had been. The Hunters had never owned slaves.
“Are you certain it won’t cause you too much stress to hold a dance?” he asked.
“Never! I used to love entertaining, and this is my way to get back a little of what I’ve lost. I’m doing this for my children’s sakes.”
“You’re a strong woman, Eugenia, accustomed to getting what you want and accomplishing your goals. But may I offer you a piece of unsolicited advice?”
“If you’d like.” She felt her guard going up and released his arm.
“Before you fight to get your old life back, I advise you to examine it carefully to see if everything is worth getting back. I remember how there used to be a . . . a falseness about it, an attitude of keeping up pretenses that wasn’t healthy for any of us. Now that the Negroes are free, people no longer have the manpower to live as they did in the past. Nor do most of them have the finances for it.”
“So I should let everything fall apart?”
“Of course not. It’s fine to reclaim what you can, Eugenia. I don’t give up on my patients as I work to restore their health. But it’s unrealistic to expect things to be exactly the same as before—just as it would be unrealistic for me to expect my patients to live forever with proper doctoring.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t want you to be hurt or disappointed when things don’t go the way you’d hoped. And I would hate to see you take on too much and destroy your health.”
“Thank you for your concern, David. The dance will be on the first of July. Promise you’ll come?”
“I’ll try. In the meantime, please don’t overdo it. Ask for help when you need it. It’s not a sign of weakness to know your limits.”
After the doctor left, Eugenia made up her mind to talk to Daniel about Otis’s proposal. She must keep calm, she told herself, and not risk having a spell. She found her son in Philip’s office, where he was taking apart his rifle to clean and oil it. She watched him from the doorway for a moment, the smell of the oil pungent, reminding her of Philip. Should she simply tell Daniel that she had decided to allow Otis to plant cotton, or suggest that Daniel listen to what he had to say for himself?
He looked up when he saw her in the doorway. “Hello, Mother. Did you need something?” He didn’t smile. How she missed his carefree smile.
She paused, deciding how to begin. She had tried making suggestions once before and he hadn’t listened, so Eugenia made up her mind to announce her decision and let him get angry. He may stop speaking to her, but at least the cotton would get planted.
“We need to talk, Daniel.”
“What now?” His look was angry, stubborn.
“I have decided to make arrangements with some of our former slaves to work the land. They’re going to plant cotton.”
“Don’t start badgering me again about talking to that Yankee. I won’t hear it.”
“This has nothing to do with him. We will make the arrangements ourselves. Tomorrow is the first of June and cotton must get planted. Since the slaves know how to do it, I’ve decided to let them.”
He dropped the rifle onto the desk with a loud thump. “We can’t pay them. And I’m sure they won’t work for nothing.”
“We’ll arrange to keep a portion of the harvest in return for the use of our land. The slaves are free to sell the rest of the cotton themselves. It’s the same arrangement the Yankee is making, only we won’t go through him.”
“You’re naïve if you think you can trust the Negroes.”
“Maybe so, but I believe we have to try. We have nothing to lose. How would we be any worse off for trying? If we let them plant cotton, we might make a little profit. If we don’t, we’re certain to have nothing at all.”
Daniel shoved the rifle away from him and leaned back with his arms crossed. “As long as you’re taking charge of the plantation, Mother, are you planning to stand out in the field and be their overseer, too?”
She remained calm, but his anger sat like a weight on her chest. “We’re going to let them work without an overseer. They know what they’re doing, and they’re motivated to do it. They don’t want to starve to death any more than we do.”
“You don’t think I can run this plantation, do you? Why don’t you just say it?”
The pressure in Eugenia’s chest sprouted tentacles that wrapped around her ribs, squeezing painfully. She willed the pain away. “I never said that, Daniel. But I do know you weren’t raised to run White Oak the way Samuel was. Neither of us is happy about the tasks we’ve been left with, but let’s give this a try, shall we?”
“Do whatever yo
u want,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I don’t care.” His sullen attitude made Eugenia’s pain flare, white hot. She needed to sit down. She couldn’t let him see her weakness, nor could she let him win. She drew a tight breath.
“I intend to make an agreement with Otis. I don’t need your permission. And as long as you’re angry with me, you may as well know I plan to purchase some farm animals, too. We’ll need a mule, some hogs, maybe a cow so we can have butter again.”
He shot to his feet and strode to the window, standing with his back turned. “You make me feel like such a failure, as if I’ve disappointed you.”
“Not yet, you haven’t. I understand that you need time to adjust to being home. But if you continue to be uncooperative, you will disappoint both of us.”
She hurried away, trying to hold her head high. But the pain was taking over, winning the fight. She went to her morning room and closed the door, praying that Daniel would change his mind, praying that the crushing pain would stop.
19
JUNE 1, 1865
Otis burst into the kitchen where Lizzie was busy mixing biscuits, shouting, “Lizzie! Lizzie, she said yes! Miz Eugenia said yes!” He picked her up in his arms and spun her in circles, squeezing the breath out of her.
“Put me down, you fool,” she said, laughing, “and tell me why you’re acting like a crazy man.” He obeyed, but Lizzie still felt the room tilting as she looked up at Otis’s grinning face.
“I asked Miz Eugenia yesterday if I could have a patch of land we could plant for ourselves, and this morning when I finished driving her all around, she said yes! Now we can plant cotton, Lizzie, and all kinds of food to eat, and maybe even have enough vegetables left over to sell.”
Lizzie’s eyes filled with tears of joy. “I never did see a man who looked so happy about working hard.”
“The good Lord answered our prayers. We’ll be working for ourselves from now on. I’m gonna go talk to Saul and the others and get some help and, Lord willing, you’ll get some help here in the house, too.”
“I’m scared to believe it.”
“You better believe it, Lizzie, because I ain’t making it up.” He bent to steal a kiss from her, and she couldn’t help glancing at the door, worried Miz Eugenia would come in and catch them.
“I gotta get back to these biscuits,” she said, shooing him away. Otis sat down on the kitchen stool, talking up a storm as he watched her work.
“I been making plans ever since I asked her about it, Lizzie, hoping and praying she would say yes. I even got out the plow blade, and I been sharpening it on the grindstone so it’s all ready. I took a walk out through the fields, too, deciding which ones are best for cotton and which one I want for our vegetable patch. I know exactly where I’m going to start just as soon as I get some seed and a mule. Did I tell you she’s getting us some farm animals, too? But the best part of all is that nobody will be cracking a whip over my head all day. It’s almost as good as owning my own land.”
“Sounds like a dream come true.” She wiped a tear with her floury hand.
“I guess it is, for me. What are you dreaming of, Lizzie?”
She glanced at the kitchen door again, then back to her mixing bowl. “I never been a dreamer, you know that. I just keep taking one day at a time and see what happens.”
Otis shifted his muscular body as he relaxed on the stool, his long legs stretched out toward the hearth. “Come on, Lizzie. Take a chance and dream of something. It might come true, you know. Did you ever think we’d have this much? That we’d be free and that our kids would be learning to read and write?”
“No, sir. That’s more than I ever thought would happen, so now I don’t even know what else there is to wish for.”
“Maybe wishing is the wrong word. What about a prayer, Lizzie? I prayed real hard before I talked to Miz Eugenia, and I asked the Lord to please let her listen to me. And He did! What would you ask the good Lord for?”
Lizzie scooped a spoonful of biscuit dough onto the baking griddle as she thought about his question. She scooped another and another, putting them in neat rows. “I guess I’d pray that my children could grow up to be themselves and not what somebody else tells them to be, that they’d have a better life than I had.” She paused, adding another spoonful, her eyes filling with tears again. “And I’d pray not to be so afraid we’re gonna lose it all.”
Otis sprang to his feet and took her in his arms. “Hey now. We been to the very bottom and the Lord was there, wasn’t He? He won’t leave us now.”
Lizzie longed to stay in the comfort of his arms, but she couldn’t help glancing up at the kitchen door. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked, freeing herself from his arms, wiping her eyes.
“I got plenty of it. I just wanted to tell you the good news. And after supper tonight, I’m gonna go tell Saul, too. Maybe he and the others will come back and plant cotton with me.”
Lizzie went stiff with fear. “You can’t go out at night! What about the patrols? No, sir! You have to think of some other way to talk to him.”
“There is no other way. The sooner I talk to him, the sooner we can start planting. It’s gotta be done, Lizzie. I’ll be careful.”
She backed up and sank onto the stool, her knees weak. “Do you even know where Saul is?”
“He and the others are living way back in the woods where we used to hold prayer meetings. I won’t have to take the road.”
“Oh, Otis, please don’t go. Please!”
“I have to, don’t you see? Miz Eugenia’s gonna let me take over the planting and I told her I could do it, but I can’t do it alone. I need Saul’s help.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You need to stay home and rest. I don’t want anything to happen to that baby you’re carrying. It’s bad enough, you working hard all day with barely enough to eat. I don’t want you walking in the woods all night, too.”
Lizzie wanted to grab him and shake him and plead with him, but fear made her too weak to rise from the stool. “You can’t fool me, Otis. It ain’t safe for you to be going out at night, and you know it. That’s why you don’t want me coming along.”
He stepped toward her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Listen. Why would the Lord go to all the trouble to answer my prayer and move Miz Eugenia’s heart if He wasn’t gonna look out for me?” He bent and kissed her forehead, then left before Lizzie could argue with him further.
He kissed her again when he left after supper, saying, “Don’t you worry now. I’ll be back before long.” But the sky grew dark and the stars came out, and Lizzie watched through the cabin window as the moon traveled across the night sky—and Otis still wasn’t home. Roselle and Rufus and Jack were sleeping, but Lizzie didn’t even bother crawling beneath the covers.
She sat in the wooden chair for a while, wide awake. Sat outside on the stoop until she got too cold. Sat inside again. And all the while she couldn’t stop worrying and praying. Fear made her so restless that she paced the cabin floor, even though she was bone tired from working all day. She walked to the window and looked out in one direction, then to the door to look out the other, her stomach writhing like a nest of snakes.
Hours later, she thought she heard the low rumble of men’s voices. Otis and Saul! She hurried outside, gazing down the path, then jogged up the rise toward the house. Lizzie halted when she saw it was Massa Daniel and a group of his friends, just riding back home from somewhere. Night patrols! He stood talking with the others for a few minutes, then the men rode off as Massa Daniel led his horse into the stable. She saw the long, thin outline of a rifle in his hand.
Had they caught Otis already? Was he lying injured somewhere, bleeding, dying? Lizzie ran back to her cabin on trembling legs and fell down on her knees, praying and pleading, worrying and weeping. Maybe he’d seen the patrollers in time and had decided to hide out until morning. Please, Lord! Please! The night had turned into one of the longest o
nes in Lizzie’s life. Waiting had become unbearable, but what else could she do? Why had she ever dared to hope for a better life?
When the rooster crowed, she knew the night was finally coming to an end. The sky grew lighter until the sun dawned at last. Still no Otis. It was time to go up to the Big House and start the fire, gather the eggs, dry her tears. She felt soggy and limp from not enough sleep and too much crying, and much too exhausted to work. But Miz Eugenia wouldn’t care what her night had been like. Lizzie would be in big trouble if she didn’t get all her work done.
Otis still wasn’t back by the time Lizzie finished cooking breakfast. He usually woke the kids up, so she had to hurry down to the cabin to shake them awake. “Come on, Rufus . . . Jack. Time to get up and get ready for school.”
Rufus rolled over to look at her, yawning. “Where’s Papa?”
“You’ll see him later. Better get going, Roselle. Can you make sure the boys get dressed? I got to get back to the kitchen.”
“Is Papa up already?” Jack asked.
Lizzie felt sick. “Come up to the kitchen and get some breakfast when you’re dressed. I’ll go fix your lunches for school.”
Dear Lord . . . where’s my Otis?
She came out of the cabin and there he was, limping across the cotton field from the woods. Saul and another man were holding Otis up between them. His shirt was stained with blood and he had a bloody rag tied around his head.
“No, no, no . . .” Lizzie ran toward him, relief and anger boiling together inside her. Up close, his swollen face didn’t even look like his own, and he had a deep cut on his head, still oozing blood. His clothes were torn and bloody, and he stumbled along like an old, old man. “Who did this to him?” Lizzie cried. “Who beat him up this way?”
The other men had cuts and bruises, too, but neither had taken a beating as bad as Otis had. Saul told her the story as they slowly made their way to the cabin. “The night riders found our camp in the woods and started shooting their rifles and destroying everything. Most of us scattered and ran off, but Old Willie couldn’t move fast enough, so one of the riders started beating on him with his rifle butt. Otis ran back to help him and took the beating for him.”