by Ginny Dye
Janie stepped forward to direct everyone to their seats.
“Let’s pray,” Thomas said. All bowed their heads as his voice rang through the room. “Our gracious Father, we need you to help make sense of the world we are living in. Thank you for your continual blessing and your supplying of our needs. May we find ourselves worthy of your love.”
Carrie looked up as a quiet ‘Amen’ echoed through the room. “I want everyone to know the sweet potatoes were a gift from Janie and my patients down by the river. It took great sacrifice on their part. I do hope you enjoy them.”
There was silence for a few minutes as everyone began to eat. Carrie caught herself playing her father’s prayer over and over in her mind. She knew his faith was important to him. How could they both value God and still hold such opposing beliefs? I love all my children... The truth came as a gentle whisper in her heart. Love made room for opposing beliefs. Love was not confined to specific doctrines or church teachings. God may not like some of the things his children believed and did, but his love was big enough to encompass even that. And because he loved his children, he would never quit trying to show them truth. Carrie suddenly realized she was not big enough to understand God - how dare she judge the ones he had created. If he chose to love - could she do any less?
The truth smacked her hard in the face. She loved her father, but she had been judging him because they didn’t share the same beliefs. She had been feeling superior to him because her understanding was more advanced than his. I love all my children... Carrie suddenly understood that God’s love was not a love in spite of - it was a love that simply valued what he had created. Her arrogance left her breathless.
“Mr. Cromwell, may I ask you something?”
Thomas wiped his mouth with his napkin and smiled. “Certainly, Mrs. Pember. What is it?”
“I received a letter from my sister recently. You know she was banished to Ship Island, I suppose.”
“Yes, Carrie told me Beast Butler was continuing his reign of terror in New Orleans,” her father replied. “I was sorry to hear your sister has been adversely affected.”
“Oh, she’ll be all right,” Matron Pember laughed. “I rather feel for the Union soldiers guarding her. I can assure you she has lost none of her spirit.” She paused. “There was something in her letter I found rather curious, though. She overheard some of the Federals talking. New Orleans is shipping out thousands of bales of cotton. From what she can tell, they are not seized property. They seem to have been purchased from Louisiana planters. How is that possible? I understood no trade was allowed between the North and South.”
Thomas sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that is a rather touchy issue - even here in Richmond. I will make an attempt to explain what cannot really be explained.” He paused for a long moment. “There is an age-old rule of war that one simply does not trade with the enemy in wartime. The issue becomes much more complicated in this present war. The North and the South are not foreign enemies; rather we are the estranged half of an economic whole. We have depended on each other for years. I’m afraid both sides have discovered declaring war has not ended that interdependence.”
“Which is why the South was so confident the North would not actually declare war on us?”
“That’s one of the reasons, Janie,” Thomas agreed. “We believed the North depended on our cotton and tobacco too much to risk losing it.”
“They don’t appear to be losing it if my sister’s letter is right,” Matron Pember observed ruefully.
“I’m afraid your sister’s letter is correct,” Thomas said heavily. “The necessity of exchange of goods between the North and South is an overwhelming economic force. Even though we’re at war, we still have to have the other’s goods.” He grimaced. “The North needs our cotton, sugar, rice, and tobacco as desperately as we need their salt, clothing, and munitions.”
“The North is selling arms to us?” Carrie gasped. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“It’s not that simple,” Thomas replied. “They are providing us with many other goods, but no, with the exception of a few smuggled loads, the North is definitely not providing us with arms. At least not directly. Many of the planters, especially in New Orleans and Nashville, the two biggest occupied cities, refuse to accept United States money for their payment. They accept gold or nothing.”
“I’m sure that makes some people hopping mad,” Dr. Wild chuckled.
“You bet,” Thomas agreed. “But, most of the time, they simply go along with it. The people operating the trading are so greedy for the huge profits they are reaping they will give the planters whatever they demand. The planters, most very loyal to the Confederacy, take the gold and use it to buy arms. Boat loads are coming up from Nassau. I’m afraid without Yankee money our armies would be in much worse shape than they are now.”
Carrie shook her head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. The South hoped the North would not declare war because they would be hurt by being cut off from what we produce, yet we’re selling it to them anyway. The North is trying to destroy our armies in order to bring us back into the Union yet is providing us with the very things we need to keep fighting.”
“War never makes sense,” Pastor Anthony said thoughtfully. “But you’re right. The whole situation seems ludicrous. Is President Davis aware of what is happening?”
Thomas laughed abruptly. “He’s aware. He hates it as much as anyone, but there seems to be no way around it. I’m sure he hopes by keeping our armies strong, we will eventually drive Yankee troops off our soil.” He sighed. “The profits being made are phenomenal.”
“By the extortionists?” Janie asked.
“Yes. Let me give you an example from figures I saw recently. Right now a sack of salt can be bought in New Orleans for a dollar and twenty-five cents. A trader can take it over to the other side of the lake still in Confederate territory and sale that same sack for sixty to one hundred dollars.”
Pastor Anthony whistled. “That’s a markup of over six thousand percent!”
Thomas nodded grimly. “I don’t believe a government has ever existed that could stop trade dripping money like that. Especially when allowing it to continue yields certain benefits.”
“How does the military feel about it?” Dr. Wild asked astutely.
“I’m sure the Confederate generals are a little confused. On one hand, they are told to destroy all cotton they believe is being exported to the enemy. On the other hand, they also receive memos advising discretion because it might be to their benefit to exchange produce for arms and ammunition.” He snorted. “Secretary of War Randolph has stated the Confederacy can violate its policy of keeping cotton out of Yankee hands or it can risk the starvation of its armed forces.”
“Is he right?” Matron Pember pressed.
“I’m afraid he is,” Thomas said. “I’m afraid the reality is much the same here in Richmond. Our capital appears to be infested with Baltimore merchants importing huge quantities of goods from the North and selling them at fabulous prices.”
“Right here in Richmond?” Carrie gasped. “The people are suffering so much. How can the government allow that to happen? Most people can simply not afford the prices!”
“It’s not that simple,” her father replied. “There seem to be only two choices. People can either pay exorbitant prices, or they can simply not have access to the goods. The blockade of the coast has affected Richmond severely. Combined with our exploding population, we simply cannot take care of the citizens without the Northern goods these men bring in.”
“Is there any end in sight to this madness?” Janie asked then held up her hand. “I don’t expect anyone to be able to answer that question.”
Carrie was thinking hard. “It would seem to me that the South’s providing cotton to the North will ultimately lead to its own downfall even if it is getting goods.”
Thomas smiled slightly. “As usual, you are able to see things much more clearly than others. I’m afr
aid I agree with you. I believe that cotton, instead of contributing to our strength, may prove to be the greatest element of our weakness. I fear Yankee gold will accomplish what Yankee military strength might never - the subjugation of our people.”
“People are only willing to suffer for so long,” Pastor Anthony observed. “Especially when they don’t really understand what they’re suffering for anyway.”
Thomas smiled halfheartedly then picked up a piece of cornbread. “Do you think it might be possible to find a more pleasant topic of conversation?”
“Why don’t we talk about the opening of the new theater?” Janie asked brightly. “I’m so glad they were able to rebuild after that disastrous fire. I understand the next show is going to be wonderful.”
Carrie looked at her friend gratefully. She had so looked forward to the dinner party, but their conversation had left her deeply saddened. Now all she wanted was for her guests to leave so she could be alone. She vaguely registered the flow of conversation around her, but her insides were spinning and churning.
Suddenly, more than anything she had wanted in a long time, she wanted to go back to Cromwell Plantation. Not to stay - just to visit. She loved what she was doing, but the rampant overcrowding in the city made her feel like a trapped animal. She was never alone - never had privacy. She longed for wide open spaces where she could breathe, where she could feel free.
Carrie smiled warmly at each of her guests as they moved back into the bitter cold. “Thank you so much for coming. Please be careful on the way home.”
“What a nice evening,” Janie said, closing the door.
“Yes.” Carrie was thankful she had recovered from her dark mood enough to join in the chatter that had surrounded the table for the remainder of the evening.
Thomas walked up and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Carrie, I’m so sorry I started the evening out on such a sour note. I realize we are surrounded by trouble everywhere we turn. I should have been considerate enough to leave it out of the house for one night.” He paused. “I like your friends very much. We may not share the same beliefs, but they are wonderful people.”
“And I’m sure they feel the same way about you.” Carrie smiled graciously, slipping her arm through his. “They’ve heard me brag about you so often they came with a very positive outlook. Besides, I don’t think they minded talking about it. It’s just your daughter that sometimes wants to pretend the world isn’t falling apart.”
“I still feel bad about my heated conversation,” Thomas insisted. “I wish there was some way to make it up to you.”
Carrie almost laughed. She couldn’t believe it would be so easy. “Well... if you feel that way...”
Thomas laughed loudly. “Why do I feel that I just set myself up for something?” He moved over and sat down in a chair by the fire. “Okay, daughter. What is it you have up your sleeve?”
“I want you not to be upset when I tell you I want to go home for a few days. I want to go to the plantation. I need it,” she added almost desperately. To her amazement, her father wasn’t looking distressed. She knew how much he had worried about her before.
“I don’t see any reason you shouldn’t go,” he said calmly. “I think it would be good for you. In fact, if I wasn’t so busy at the Capitol, I would go with you. This city is about to suffocate me.”
“You understand!” Carrie cried.
“You are my daughter, aren’t you? I watched you roam around that plantation free as a bird from the time you were a child.”
“I need to feel free again.”
“Yes. And you need your special place,” Thomas said with a smile.
Carrie ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Of course, I know you would go anyway, but I’m glad you don’t have to carry the burden of thinking your father is worried sick about you.” He paused. “I would ask one thing of you. Take Janie with you. It will do her good to get out of the city, too. And I will feel much better if you have someone other than Spencer along.”
Carrie laughed again. “You were reading my mind,” she accused playfully. Then she turned to Janie. “Will you go with me?”
Janie clapped her hands with delight. “I’ve been dying to see the plantation,” she cried. “When do we leave?”
“We’ll watch the weather. As long as there is not a lot of snow, the roads should be frozen enough to be passable.”
“I can hardly wait,” Janie proclaimed.
“I’m actually relieved you’re going,” Thomas said quietly. “I have heard plenty of horror stories about what Union soldiers have done to the plantations. I would like to know what condition my home is in.”
“You’re going to freeze to death by that window if you don’t come to bed,” Janie chided from the protection of her own thick blankets. “You can’t solve all the problems of the world tonight.”
Carrie looked at her friend. “I know. It’s just that I seldom see the city so quiet.” More snow had started falling right after they had come up to bed. By the time they had chattered about their upcoming trip to the plantation, it was already several inches deep. She loved to watch the snow drift in lazy spirals, slowly dancing its way to the earth.
“What are you thinking about over there?”
“I’m hurting for my father,” Carrie said slowly. “I’ve been thinking about the Emancipation Proclamation. Dr. Wild was right. The only way for it to have any real impact is for the South to be defeated. I want the slaves to be free. If the South has to lose the war for it to happen - well - it just has to happen. But...”
“Your father will lose his way of life,” Janie finished.
“Yes. Oh, I know he can rebuild the plantation. I know some of his people will choose to stay and work for wages. I know he can hire others. But a whole way of life will become extinct. He has worked so hard to preserve it. It’s going to break his heart.”
The dark clouds that had settled down over America ceased their powerful advance. They hovered near the surface, but the swirling and spinning had stopped. What had been a chaotic dance stilled into a careful watching. The first step had been taken that would cause the eventual retreat. In the broad scope of things, the step was but a tiny one - yet a step nonetheless. It was up to each person to let the spark ignited by Lincoln become a flame in his or her own heart. Only light would force the darkness away from the land.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Carrie was almost bouncing up and down on the seat when Spencer turned the carriage down the drive leading to the plantation. “We’re here!” she crowed. Nothing seemed to have changed. The fields were snow covered. Their pristine beauty stretched as far as the eye could see, ending in a dark bank of trees on the horizon. Fluffy white clouds bounced through a vividly blue sky. A gentle breeze knocked tufts of snow off branches with their scattering flakes catching the sun in a dizzying dance of light. Carrie took deep breaths and already felt renewed.
“It’s beautiful,” Janie said, a touch of awe in her voice. “How could you ever stand to leave it?”
“You haven’t seen anything yet!” Carrie leaned forward expectantly. “We should see the house in a minute.” Her heart caught with a sudden fear. “I hope it’s okay. What if it’s gone? What if they’ve burned it? There may be none of my father’s people here.” Her voice stuck in her throat. “I’m so looking forward to seeing Sam, Opal, and the kids. What if they’re all gone?” Carrie had known she should prepare for the worst, but her excitement the last two weeks had made it impossible.
“I’m just glad the weather finally cleared so you can get all your questions answered.” Janie reached for Carrie’s hand.
Carrie took it gratefully, squeezing it tightly. Her eyes were glued on the final curve. She would know in just a few minutes. Suddenly she was afraid to know. Turning her head away, she closed her eyes. Janie just squeezed her hand tighter. Carrie still had her head turned away when her friend spoke.
“I wo
nder who owns that beautiful three-story white home?” Janie asked in a teasing voice.
Carrie eyes flew open. “It’s here. It’s still here,” she said softly. She was stunned by the surge of emotion that swept through her as she saw her home rise before her eyes. It stood tall and elegant, banked by huge mounds of snow, the towering oaks surrounding it like frosted sentinels. “I’m home,” she whispered. She made no attempt to wipe away the tears running down her face.
“Sure is a right nice place,” Spencer said admiringly. “You reckon your daddy will need some help out here when we’re all free and this war be over? I always thought working on a farm would be a mighty fine thing.”
“I’m sure Father would find something for you, Spencer. He thinks very highly of you.” Carrie had a hard time thinking past each day. Thinking ahead to when the war would be over was simply too much of a stretch for her. Right now all she wanted was enjoy being home again.
They were almost to the house when the big front door swung open and a tall figure stepped out onto the porch and shaded his eyes against the bright sunshine.
Carrie leapt up, hanging onto the front seat of the carriage. “Sam!” she cried joyfully. “You’re still here!”
Sam bent low to peer out at the carriage then straightened with a shout. “Miss Carrie? That be you, Carrie girl?” He gave a yell of delight and turned to holler back into the house. “Miss Carrie be home!”