by Ginny Dye
“Do you think it is?” Janie asked hopefully.
“I hope so, but I have no way of knowing. All I know is I’m thankful for whatever gives them the courage to make decisions for their lives.”
“Do you know anything of Eddie?” Carrie asked. She had not been able to get near the prison where Eddie, Opal’s cousin whom she had lived with for a while, was incarcerated on charges of spying and anti-war activities. All she had been able to do was offer Opal and Eddie’s children a safe place on the plantation when he had been imprisoned and his wife killed in a factory explosion.
“Castle Thunder is an awful place,” Pastor Anthony said grimly. “I have heard Libby Prison is like a haven compared to it.”
Carrie shuddered. “There’s nothing that can be done?”
“I’m afraid not. The Confederate authorities are cracking down hard on anti-war activities. The man they have in charge of the prison is a brute. The best we can hope for is that Eddie will not get caught up in the fever to hang spies. Are Opal and the kids safe?”
“They were the last I knew,” Carrie replied. Her frustration mounted as the number of unknowns in her life grew. “As far as I know, Cromwell Plantation has not been destroyed. While they are there, they will at least be able to eat.”
Pastor Anthony changed the subject. “How is your work in the hospital going?”
“Exhausting, but rewarding,” Carrie said simply. “I have nightmares every night and wake up every morning wondering which of my patients is going to die that day, but I am learning, and I hope I’m making a difference.”
“Carrie is being modest,” Janie interjected. “She is the only woman carrying the medical responsibilities she has.”
Carrie shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”
Pastor Anthony leaned forward. “Could you add one more job to your list?” he asked intensely.
“What do you have in mind, Pastor?” Carrie would do whatever she could for the kind pastor. Without his help, Rose and Moses would not have been able to escape. She owed him a great deal and respected him highly.
“There is a hospital in the black part of town,” he began.
“I didn’t know that,” Carrie responded, surprised. “Not that I know every hospital.”
“I’m not surprised you’re ignorant of it. It’s really a rather loose use of the term. It is really just my attempt to help the blacks of Richmond. It can be almost impossible to obtain medical help anywhere else.”
Carrie listened closely, drawn by the appeal in his voice. She knew he cared deeply for the black people in his church. “Where is it?”
“Three buildings down from my church.”
“Who is running it?” Carrie inquired.
Pastor Anthony smiled slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid I am.”
“I didn’t know you knew anything about medicine.” Carrie couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.
“I don’t,” he said apologetically. “But I couldn’t stand seeing the people... I mean... I had to do something.”
Carrie nodded. She understood Pastor Anthony’s heart. She turned to look at Janie and knew they were thinking the exact same thing. Turning back to the pastor, she asked, “Why don’t you take us there?”
“When?” Pastor Anthony asked in amazement, disbelief on his face.
“No time like the present,” Carrie said. “Shopping can be done anytime.” Her voice grew serious. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try my best to help.”
“I will, too,” Janie agreed.
“Supplies are becoming very short all over the city,” Carrie continued. “The blockade is working too well, I’m afraid. There are many medicines becoming harder to obtain.” She shook her head. “Until I see the place and some of your patients, I won’t know what we can do.”
“I would appreciate anything,” Pastor Anthony replied fervently.
“Is there a doctor?” Janie asked.
Pastor Anthony just laughed a mirthless laugh.
“I’m not a doctor, Pastor Anthony,” Carrie said quietly. “But Janie and I have seen a lot since we began at Chimborazo.” She stood. “I’ll have my father’s driver take us down there. Spencer has become somewhat used to my strange requests.”
Just then a loud laugh filtered through their concentration. Hearing something familiar in it, Carrie glanced up. She almost groaned out loud when she saw Louisa staring back at her. She was in no mood to put up with her shallow friend today. “Hello, Louisa,” she managed to say pleasantly.
“Well, if it isn’t Carrie Cromwell,” Louisa replied with a hateful sneer. “Look, girls,” she said to the young women accompanying her. “Do you remember my telling you about my former neighbor who has so humiliated her father and her friends by becoming a nigger lover?”
Carrie took a deep breath as she struggled to control her anger.
Janie reached out to touch her arm. “She’s not worth it,” she said quietly.
“Thank goodness there are still those among us who know how to love all of God’s creation, miss,” Pastor Anthony said with a gentle smile. “I think it’s possible you don’t understand the love he has for you.”
Louisa stared at Pastor Anthony, her lips curling in scorn. “And who are you, old man?”
Carrie gasped, shocked at Louisa’s disrespect. “Louisa Blackwell!” she gasped. “This is Pastor Marcus Anthony.”
Louisa edged closer, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve heard about you,” she said to the pastor. “You’re the pastor of that black church down by the river.”
“That’s right,” Pastor Anthony agreed, a gentle smile still on his lips.
Louisa pounced. “I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself. A healthy man like you ought to be fighting this war, not playing God to a bunch of niggers who don’t have souls anyway.” Her voice was strident, causing a number of people to turn their heads and stare.
Carrie had heard enough. “Louisa Blackwell, I’m ashamed of you,” she said in an indignant voice.
Louisa merely laughed. “Oh, fiddle, Carrie Cromwell. You must know by now I don’t care one iota what you think of me. You made it clear long ago that you had taken leave of your senses. Thank heavens there are still people who can think - who can see people like you for what they really are. A South-hating, nigger-loving traitor.”
Pastor Anthony stood, his voice controlled but firm. “Miss Blackwell, I have just met you, but I feel the need to say something. The word ‘nigger’ is completely reprehensible to me. The word means ignorant - if you care to look up the meaning for yourself. It has absolutely nothing to do with race or societal status. I have discovered it is used by people who are much more ignorant than the people they try to malign.” He turned to Carrie and Janie. “Would you like to be going now, ladies?”
Carrie glanced back once and smiled at the sight of Louisa standing with her mouth open, silent for once.
“A rather pitiful young woman,” Pastor Anthony remarked. “Has she always been so unhappy?”
“I’d say she brings most of her unhappiness on herself,” Carrie retorted, still seething with anger.
“That may be,” Pastor Anthony responded. “But unhappiness is still a miserable thing. I would not want to live with the poison in her heart, no matter what caused it.”
Carrie was quiet, pondering his words, but still angry at her former friend.
It was not until they were in the carriage that Pastor Anthony spoke again. “May I share a thought with you?”
Carrie nodded somewhat reluctantly. She was pretty sure the thought was aimed at her anger – an anger she preferred to hang onto for a while longer.
“Carrie, no matter what you do, someone is not going to like it.” He turned to Janie. “The same thing goes for you.” He looked back at Carrie. “Both you girls are different. A good different - but a lot of people won’t see it that way. They are threatened by your love and acceptance of blacks because they perceive it as a threat to their own
self-image and position.”
“But it’s not!” Carrie cried.
“Of course, it’s not,” Pastor Anthony agreed immediately. “But fear is not governed by reason. It is governed by the emotions of the heart.” He paused. “That’s not what I wanted to say, though. It’s true that no matter what you do someone is not going to agree with you. I’ve learned that all I can do is make my decisions the best I can and then resolve to live with the consequences. There will always be someone to attack you no matter what you decide to do. The big question is whether you can live with your actions. Once you’re quite sure of how you feel about yourself, it’s easier to find humor in situations when people attack you.”
Carrie stared at him. “I understand about making your decisions and living with the consequences, but I’m afraid I see nothing funny in what just happened with Louisa.”
“She sure did look funny standing there in the middle of Capitol Square with her mouth wide open,” Janie said slowly.
Pastor Anthony smiled. “And it seemed to me the people who were looking, were looking more at her.”
Carrie tried to enter the game. “Louisa’s ears always turn a little red when she gets angry.”
The three looked at each other for a few moments and then dissolved into laughter. When they stopped laughing, Carrie discovered she was no longer angry. “You’re right, Pastor Anthony,” she said thoughtfully. “I do feel sorry for her.”
Pastor Anthony nodded. “She must be a truly lonely person. It is very hard to receive love when you have none to give.”
Carrie pondered his words as the carriage rattled through the streets. He was right. All anyone could do was make decisions and live with the consequences. She had made her decision about slavery. She could accept the consequences with bitterness or with humor and loving acceptance. She knew it would probably always be a battle for her. Her temper was too hot and quick when people attacked something she believed in. Her own thinking brought her up short. She was really no different from the people whose hot tempers had started the war. She just happened to be hot-tempered about something different. The realization was sobering.
“Why the heavy look?” Janie asked.
“I’m just realizing human nature is a very difficult thing to escape. We can be self-righteous - or realize much of what we hate in others is what we have inside ourselves.”
“Kind of dissolves your anger, doesn’t it?” Pastor Anthony said.
“Yes, it does,” Carrie agreed, a little stunned by her own thoughts. She looked at the pastor. “I guess it’s easier to give when we’re not so busy condemning the other fellow.”
“Sure does free up a lot of energy,” he agreed with a smile.
Carrie laughed suddenly, feeling a burden lift from her heart. She may have to learn this lesson over and over, but she felt as if she had been given a bird’s eye view on the human race. She found people much easier to love from this angle.
“Here’s my hospital,” Pastor Anthony announced suddenly.
Carrie looked up quickly. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts, she hadn’t been aware of her surroundings. Now she looked around. She remembered the street well. It looked much the same, with men loitering around shabby buildings. Across the river she could catch glimpses of tents spreading out like a wave on Belle Island. Her heart ached for the men living there as prisoners.
Pastor Anthony led her and Janie into the ramshackle building. Carrie stared around her. The structure itself was not bad. There were plenty of windows, and the ceilings were high enough to allow adequate circulation. The rest of the conditions were appalling. There was not a single bed in the place. Rows of patients lay on coarse mattresses resting on the dirt floor. Carrie hardly noticed the swarms of black flies - they had infiltrated the entire city.
“Hello, Pastor Anthony,” a woman called, raising her hand in greeting.
Carrie suddenly noticed a number of women moving between the beds.
Pastor Anthony saw where she was looking. “The women come to help whenever they can. I’m afraid we have no regular nurses.”
Carrie shrugged. “There are scores of hospitals and sick houses in the area that don’t have nurses. It is impossible to meet the demand.” She watched the women closely. Their caring and tenderness were evident as they held water glasses and cooled hot faces with wet rags.
“What illnesses do most of the patients have?” Janie asked.
“Mostly typhoid. Some of the men have been hurt building fortifications. A few have been injured working in the munitions plants.”
“No one offered them care?” Carrie asked indignantly.
Pastor Anthony shook his head. “If a slave is injured, the owner takes responsibility. The patients here in the hospital are free blacks.”
Carrie looked again at the patients then turned to Pastor Anthony. “What can we do to help?”
A great sigh of relief exploded from Pastor Anthony’s lips. “Whatever you can,” he said helplessly, spreading his hands. “You’re the doctor.”
Carrie opened her lips to contradict him then shut them again. To a people with absolutely no medical care, she could be whatever they needed her to be. There would be no one studying her credentials here. The only thing they would be interested in was whether or not she could help them. She turned to Janie with a question in her eyes.
Janie nodded. “I can’t think of anything better to do with my spare time,” she said with a slight smile. “I’m in this with you.”
Carrie smiled back and turned to the pastor. “We’ll take a look at the patients now. We’ll do what we can. Chimborazo is still crowded, but the critical cases have stabilized. We will have more free time - at least until the next battle.”
Carrie and Janie moved from patient to patient, examining them and talking with them quietly. They met back at the front of the building. “There’s not much wrong here that can’t be treated with the right medicines. The people here seem to be suffering mostly from bad water and malnutrition,” Carrie observed. Janie nodded her agreement.
Carrie called Pastor Anthony over. “Do all of the people in your church have gardens?” she asked crisply. When he shook his head, she continued. “Well, they need to. There is still time for some crops to be grown before summer is over. Every single person in your church who has any land at all around their house should put a garden in. Greens will grow well into the fall. Many of your patients are suffering from malnutrition. They have no defenses to fight disease. They need good food.” She saw him open his mouth to interrupt but stopped him. “I know good food is hard to come by because of the prices, but you simply must find a way. These people are going to have to take care of themselves since there is no one else to do it.”
Pastor Anthony nodded slowly, deep in thought. “There is some land behind these buildings. It is horribly overgrown, however.”
“Get people to clear it,” Carrie said firmly. “Plant food everywhere you can find a place.” She paused. “I’m going to need about fifteen people for a day next week,” she continued.
Pastor Anthony blinked but nodded again.
“Have them bring bags. I wish I could say there is medicine for these people, but the truth of the matter is there is a shortage in all the hospitals. Even if I could get my hands on some, there is no money to pay for it. We’ll make our own.”
“Make our own?” Pastor Anthony echoed.
“Yes,” Carrie continued, blessing Old Sarah once again for all she had taught her. “I’ll need to take the women out into the woods. It’s not too late to gather herbs that will help with much of what ails these people. In the meantime, I want you to make sure they all get plenty of fresh water. There are wells that still have pure water. They are not to drink anything that doesn’t come from those wells.” She paused. “One more thing. I want every single piece of bedding in here washed in hot water.” From the looks of things, it had been a long time since they had seen any water.
Pastor Anthony nodde
d yet again then turned to Janie. “Should I salute?” he whispered.
Carrie joined in the laughter but knew her orders would be followed. “We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she promised.
Carrie and Janie stared at each other in excitement as they rode back toward the center of town.
Janie was the first to speak. “Can you believe it?” she finally said.
Carrie shook her head. There would be no medical school until after the war was over, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help people now. There would be no one staring over her shoulder as she tried to help the black people lying in that building. Grim determination took hold of her. It was up to her and Janie. They would have to learn all they could - absorbing knowledge as they worked in Chimborazo and scouring all their medical journals. The people in that hospital were counting on them.
Dinner was already on the table when Thomas strode in the door with a grim expression on his face. He nodded to everyone then settled himself in his chair. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said apologetically.
“Bad news?” Carrie asked quietly.
“There will be another battle soon,” he said shortly. “Forces are once more gathering at Manassas. From what I hear, General Pope is much more forceful than McClellan.”
Carrie whitened but remained silent. She would never get used to the idea of Robert in battle - she would never lose her fear of losing him - but expressing her fears served no purpose. Fear was being shared by hundreds of thousands of women all over the country. She had much to be thankful for. At least they were only fears – not a reality.
Thomas shook his head. “General Lee is an excellent commander. Only time will tell,” he said with a heavy sigh. “General Pope has an excellent record in the West.”
Carrie waited quietly, sure that her father had more to say.
He finally looked up with a heavy sigh. “General Cobb sent a message to Secretary of War Randolph. As you know, he’s one of our nation’s most eminent political leaders. The note was quite to the point.” Thomas paused, remembering. “It said, ‘This war must be closed in a few months, perhaps weeks, or else will be fought with increased energy and malignity on the part of our enemies. I look for the latter result.’” He focused on Carrie again. “I’m afraid I agree with him.” His eyes darkened with anger. “General Pope certainly has that attitude,” he said angrily.