by Ginny Dye
Robert gasped as truth collided with the reality he had clung to all these years. “Oh, my God!” he cried in a broken voice. “I killed that little boy. I killed a defenseless, innocent little boy!” From somewhere deep in his gut, great sobs came wrenching forth, doubling his body as they tore through. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry...” He hardly recognized his own voice. “Please forgive me! Please forgive me!” Great waves of sorrow rolled through his heart and threatened to drown him, to suffocate him.
Suddenly he felt a presence move into his grief. A presence that picked up his shredded heart and handed it back to him gently. Even in the midst of his grief, Robert wondered if he was losing his mind. He could see the presence in his mind, just as clearly as he had seen the little boy he had killed, yet the presence had no real form. It was simply there. Robert could feel great power as well as an embracing love reaching out to him. Wonderingly, Robert reached for his heart. As the presence held it, Robert watched in awe as his shredded heart was miraculously transformed into a whole, healthy one.
Robert had no idea how long he had been sobbing before he began to gain control. Finally he gave a final gulp and was quiet. He dreaded looking into Polly’s eyes. He knew he would see justified condemnation.
“Feel better?” Polly asked quietly.
Robert raised his head slowly, not able to believe what his ears were hearing. His eyes met hers. There was nothing but loving acceptance in her eyes. “You don’t hate me?” he whispered disbelievingly.
“I told you once I done all the hating I ever intend to do. I figure all the hating I done when I’s young be enough for a lifetime. I sure ‘nuff hate what you did to that little boy, but I don’t hate you. I sure ‘nuff hate what I almost done to that little baby I’s take care of, but God didn’t hate me. I’s don’t reckon I can hate you. You didn’t do nothing I didn’t want to do myself.”
“I didn’t know,” Robert whispered. “I didn’t understand...” Finally he gained enough courage to look up at Gabe. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I know that doesn’t change what I’ve done...” Robert sighed heavily. “I know you want me out of here. If you call the army, they’ll come get me.”
Amber didn’t wait for her father to respond. Walking over to Robert’s bed with a very serious look, she stopped and stared into his face for a long minute. Robert gazed back with no idea of what to say to the little girl. “Amber...”
“Hush, Robert,” she said sweetly. “You done been crying too much to have to talk.” Pushing aside his hand, she climbed into the bed next to him and looked up at him. “I love you. I don’t care what you done. Anyway, I don’t think you like that anymore. My mama say she changed. I reckon you have too.” Once she had made her announcement, she turned to stare at her father defiantly.
Gabe stayed where he was by the fire, his face hard and angry. Nothing was said while the log he had just thrown onto the fire crackled and sputtered. As if the fire were melting it, the hardness on his face began to soften. After a long while, Gabe shook his head and settled back in his chair. “I don’t reckon we need the army.”
“I don’t expect you to keep me here,” Robert protested. “Not after what I’ve done.”
Gabe just held up his hand. “There been enough hatin’. I hate what you did to that little boy, but I also knows if I’d ever had half a chance, I would’ve killed the man who owned me ‘fore I run away. I planned it in my mind a hundred times. No, I reckon the hatin’ gots to stop sometime.” He paused for a long while. “Maybe this Emancipation Proclamation will help folks. Maybe it’ll make people stop to think long enough to realize folks be just folks - no matter what color they is. Maybe that’ll stop some of the hatin’.”
Robert exchanged a long look with Gabe, and for the first time understanding flowed between them.
Polly nodded. “Slavery done rip humanity away from people. But it didn’t just take it away from black folks - it done took it away from whites, too. I reckon you gots to give up some of your own humanity when you take someone else’s. I figure that the only way you can live with yourself.”
Across the room Robert heard Clint give a disgusted snort. When he looked over toward the corner, Clint’s glowering eyes locked with his. Robert understood. Clint was too young to sort through all the passions of his heart. Of course, age didn’t really have anything to do with it. He had seen enough proof of that. He couldn’t fight Clint’s battles for him. Clint would have to fight them on his own.
Robert was exhausted, but he had never felt more peaceful. It was as if a spreading gangrenous sore had been ripped from him. His heart was raw, but it had never felt more whole. He reached out to take Polly’s hand. “Thank you,” he said softly.
Polly looked satisfied. “Folks gots to stick together, Robert. Black and white. That the only way any of us going to make it. God might never have wanted blacks to be hauled to this country as slaves. But now that we here I know for certain he wants the hatin’ to stop. It be our job to make sure it happens - at least in our own hearts. I reckon our own hearts the only ones we can really answer for.”
Gabe threw another log onto the fire. The snow clinging to it hissed and sputtered until the licking flames melted it away into oblivion. “I reckon it be a lot like that junk I found the other day.”
“What you talking about Daddy?” Amber asked from the protective curve of Robert’s arm.
“I found a pile of somebody’s garbage down in one of the valleys not too long ago. Looks like somebody just drove a wagon down and pitched a bunch of stuff.” He paused. “I remember looking at that garbage then lookin’ round at all the beauty surrounding it. It just sure didn’t fit with all that white snow heapin’ up and layin’ so nice on the branches.” He smiled sheepishly. “Might seem crazy but I kinda figured that what folks be like. Everybody’s gots some beauty in them - everybody’s gots some garbage. I reckon folks all gots some stuff in them they’d rather just throw in the trash pile and pretend it ain’t there. Lots of people hides it real good, but I figure it’s there just the same. Shouldn’t come as no surprise. Seems that folks who try to hide it the most end up judging the most. Guess they figure if they judge other people’s garbage it makes they own not quite so dirty.” He shook his head. “I know I’s done it.” He paused again then spoke wistfully. “If people could accept that we all gots trash, it sure would be a lot easier to accept each other. We gots a awful lot in common - no matter what color we be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Putting finishing touches on the preparations for dinner, Carrie moved gracefully around the dining room. It seemed somehow too good to be true that all of her father’s male boarders had gone home for a few days or left town on government business. She was happy to have them in the house, but it was wonderful to have a few days with just Janie and her father.
“What time are Pastor Anthony and Dr. Wild supposed to arrive?” Janie asked, looking up from setting the table. “Matron Pember said she would be here around seven o’clock. Thankfully, things aren’t quite as busy at the hospital.”
“They said they would arrive as close to seven as possible,” Carrie answered. She stepped back to survey the room then frowned. “It seems so odd to be hosting a dinner party when people all over Richmond are cold and hungry.”
“I would hardly say three people constitute a dinner party,” Janie responded. “It’s not as if we’re being elaborate. Soup, sweet potatoes, and biscuits are definitely not a feast.”
Carrie nodded. “You’re right.” She knew she should just enjoy the evening ahead, but she had seen so much suffering. The anticipated cold winter had indeed roared in as a brutal monster. There had already been several snow storms. The accumulation wasn’t substantial, but the accompanying frigid temperatures had made the shortage of wood and coal even more critical. Combined with the scarcity of food, the situation in the city had become increasingly bleak. Carrie shivered and moved closer to the fire as another Nordic blast rattl
ed the windows. “I wonder where Father is? He said he would be home before now.”
“Probably just taking care of some extra business at the Capitol,” Janie said soothingly.
“Don’t you get tired of constantly relieving my worries?” Carrie laughed.
“I don’t think of you as a worrier,” Janie protested. “You’re one of the most optimistic people I know. Your problem - which I hardly think of as a problem - is that you care so deeply. You’re always thinking about how something affects the other person.”
“I much prefer that viewpoint,” Carrie smiled gratefully. Then her smile faded, and she turned to stare out the window.
“Carrie?”
Carrie shook her head. “I’m fine,” she murmured.
Janie walked up close behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s Robert.” There was no question in her voice.
“Somehow,” Carrie started slowly, “I thought a new year couldn’t start with my still having no idea whether he’s dead or alive. I know 1863 arrived a few days ago. I’m afraid I’ll be forever stuck in 1862.”
“No you won’t,” Janie said firmly.
“You sound very sure of yourself,” Carrie commented dourly. Every time she thought she was getting used to living with the uncertainty, a fresh wave of grief and fear swept through her.
“Grieving is a very natural thing,” Janie said gently. “But you are too full of life to remain under its weight forever. Time takes care of many things.”
Carrie swung around to stare at her friend. “You think he’s dead, don’t you?” she said accusingly.
Janie returned her look for several long moments. “I think it’s been almost four months since the battle.” Her voice was blunt but kind.
Anger flared in Carrie then subsided just as quickly. She knew that reason deemed she accept the inevitable. Yet somehow she couldn’t. She knew better than anyone that Robert was probably dead. How could she expect anyone to share her belief - completely unfounded - that he was out there somewhere, still alive?
“Carrie, I’m sorry,” Janie cried contritely. “Until there is some final proof Robert is dead I know you have to keep on hoping.”
“Yes,” Carrie agreed softly. The front door swung open, a blast of cold air announcing her father’s arrival. Carrie spun gratefully to meet him. Once all her guests were here she would have no time to think of Robert.
“Sorry I’m late,” Thomas called, shrugging out of his heavy coat and moving close to the fire. He held out his hands to the warmth and rubbed them together to restore the circulation. “Brutal out there,” he muttered.
Carrie handed him a hot cup of coffee. “This should help.” She looked closely at her father. “You seem angry.”
qThomas scowled. “Lincoln has made a very grave error,” he snapped.
Carrie contained a groan as she saw the light-hearted mood of her dinner party dissolve before it even started. She opened her mouth to inquire what Lincoln’s current misdeed was but was saved by a guest knocking at the door. She hurried to answer it.
“Matron Pember,” she said warmly. “I’m so glad to see you. Please come in.”
“Is it all right for my driver to wait inside?”
“Of course! It’s too cold for anyone to be outside longer than is necessary. There is no need for him to come back for you.” Carrie started to invite the driver in through the front door then thought of her father. Out of respect for him, she stepped out onto the porch. “Take your carriage around to the back,” she called. “You can put your horse in the barn and go in through the back door. May will fix you something hot to drink.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the driver said gratefully. He picked up the reins immediately and started the carriage down the drive.
Thomas was helping Matron Pember off with her coat when Carrie stepped back inside. Moments later she heard a clatter of wheels as Pastor Anthony and Dr. Wild made their way to the house. Soon, they too, clustered around the fire warming themselves.
Pastor Anthony rubbed his hands briskly then turned. “Happy New Year,” he said, smiling.
Thomas spoke before anyone could say a word. “I do indeed wish it was a happy new year,” he growled.
Dr. Wild was the first to respond. “Is something wrong, Mr. Cromwell?”
Thomas turned a look of disbelief on the doctor. “Surely you have heard about the Emancipation Proclamation! The whole city is aware of it.”
“Yes,” Dr. Wild said carefully. “I’ve heard of it.”
Carrie thought about trying to change the subject but knew it would be futile. Until her father had vented his frustration, there would be no way to simply have a dinner party. She should have known it wasn’t possible to pretend war wasn’t affecting every area of their lives. She had read President Lincoln’s document and was thrilled such a huge step had been taken. She was not surprised her father didn’t feel the same way.
“Surely you know what the result of that heinous document is going to be!” Thomas fumed. “Why, there will be a slave insurrection such as we have never seen. The North has for all practical purposes invited millions of slaves to rise up while their masters are away. The South is soon to go through a reign of terror such as we’ve never imagined.”
Carrie stared at her father and was stunned by the edge of fear in his anger. “Surely you don’t think all slaves are simply waiting for the time when they can kill white people,” she protested. “These people simply want to be free.”
“You mark my words,” Thomas responded sternly. “For years the South has feared uprisings such as the one Nat Turner led years ago. The same thing will happen again. All over the Confederacy.”
Uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Carrie cast about in her mind for some way to ease the tension.
Thomas turned to Pastor Anthony. “I’m sure you’ve heard plans being made by the blacks you work with down by the river.”
Pastor Anthony shook his head calmly. “I’m afraid my parishioners down by the river are simply interested in surviving the winter. They are thinking about food and staying warm. That’s about all they can handle.” He paused. “They’re not alone. The whole city is under a terrible burden.”
“Don’t you understand what will happen soon?” Thomas demanded.
“I’m afraid I don’t, Mr. Cromwell. It’s not just that I don’t understand it - I simply don’t believe it. I do think I understand why you’re frightened, though.”
“I’m not frightened,” Thomas sputtered. “I’m furious the North thinks they can try to destroy our country this way.”
Carrie smiled to herself as Pastor Anthony merely nodded. Her respect and admiration for the pastor grew daily. She was ready to strangle her father for being so blind. Pastor Anthony was giving him plenty of room to have his beliefs while firmly disagreeing with him.
“I simply don’t think most blacks in the South have violent uprisings on their minds. I don’t deny some have been driven to violence, but the vast majority of them simply want to lead their lives in freedom. They want to stay in their homes and remain in the South but be able to dictate their own lives. My church down by the river is comprised mostly of free blacks. They want for the rest of their people what they have been able to claim for themselves in a limited way. And they want for themselves, not only freedom, but equality.” He paused. “Basically, all they want is what any of us would want if we were in their place.”
The only sounds that could be heard in the room when Pastor Anthony finished were the crackling of the fire and the chiming of the clock.
“May I add something?” Dr. Wild asked.
“Please,” Thomas responded quickly, his tone of voice saying he hoped he was about to get some support.
“I can appreciate your views on slavery, Thomas, even though I don’t personally agree with them. It seems to me, however, that Lincoln’s proclamation is little more than a political move on his part. As long as the South remains in the hands of the Confederate
military, there is little that Lincoln can do to enforce his proclamation of freedom for slaves. There are millions of blacks in the South who will be content to wait and see if the North wins the war. Only then will they begin to exercise the freedom Lincoln has granted them. If the South wins, I think life will pretty much go on as it has before.”
“But so many of the slaves are running away!” Thomas stated angrily.
“Exactly,” Dr. Wild said mildly. “Those slaves aren’t looking to start an insurrection. They’re trying to start a new life. In the North, where equality is a little easier to come by. The slaves who are determined to be free are going to run away - proclamation or not.”
Thomas stared into the fire for a long moment and then barked a laugh. “To say I’m outnumbered here would be an understatement.” His voice was not bitter, just resigned. He straightened. “Carrie, I’m sorry. I had no intention of spoiling your dinner party. I most certainly do not agree with your guests’ feelings on slavery, but I have learned to accept yours. I can accept theirs as well.” He paused. “I can also see what Dr. Wild is saying. Maybe our fear is not well founded. He is right. As long as the Confederate military continues to control the country, Lincoln has no way to enforce this heresy.”
Carrie was proud of her father. He was struggling with his beliefs, and yet she also knew he was making a choice to be a gentleman in his home. “I hear May ringing the bell,” she said with relief. “Why don’t we all go in to dinner?”
Carrie stepped back to join Matron Pember. “I’m sorry things are a little tense,” she said apologetically.
“No need to apologize,” Matron Pember replied quietly. “I’m quite used to the passions sweeping our country. I see the results of it every day. I, too, experience some fear about what will happen if the blacks truly become free, but I also realize it is inevitable. I’m afraid - by the very act of slavery - we have put ourselves in a most unfortunate situation. I believe it will be the responsibility of white people to ease the transition of former slaves into our society, but I fear far too few of us will take up the challenge.” She shook her head. “We are going to be in for a long period of storms, I’m afraid. The war is just the beginning.”