by Ginny Dye
Jasper’s smiling face appeared in the doorway. His blue eyes shimmered with excitement under a thatch of wild blond hair. Louisa had given up on trying to keep him neat. She didn’t demand it at home, so why should she demand it here? She pushed away the uncomfortable certainty that it was because she was trying to keep up appearances for the people. There were no more people in the South.
“Mama!”
“Yes, Jasper?’ Louisa felt a rush of love as she looked at her son, who was the spitting image of his father. “What are you doing, dear?” Regardless of her own uncertainties, she knew Jasper adored being on the plantation.
“Amber said I could ride Patches, Mama! John said it was all right, too!” Jasper was so excited it seemed he could hardly breathe. “I’ve never ridden a pony before,” he reminded her.
Louisa bit back a smile. “That is true,” she agreed.
“So can I, Mama? Pleeasse…” he implored.
Louisa pushed down her feelings of discomfort again. It would have been common for the slaves to teach her son how to ride in the past. Why was she so uncomfortable with Amber doing it? Now, with her son’s blue eyes begging, was not the time to analyze her reaction. “Of course, but you must do everything Amber tells you to do,” she said.
“I will, Mama!” Jasper cried before he turned and ran from the room.
Louisa smiled as she listened to his small feet pound down the stairs. She had also given up trying to keep her little ball of energy from running in the house. Full speed seemed to be the only tempo he was happy with. Her own mother had been insistent about proper behavior at all times, but she had a houseful of slaves available to enforce her wishes. Now there was just Louisa. She was, quite frankly, exhausted by the life she had suddenly found herself living. In Georgia she had been able to leave the confinements of her past behind when it was just her, Perry and Jasper on their farm together. Being back at Cromwell, and having Blackwell Plantation so close as a constant reminder, had placed a weight in her soul that she couldn’t seem to shake. She could hear her mother’s scolding voice and admonishments in every situation.
Annie appeared in the doorway with a tray. “There be a chill in the air this morning, Miss Louisa. Would you like some hot tea and scones?”
Louisa was suddenly hungry for just that, but she shook her head. “Thank you, Annie, but I’ll come down for it.” She longed for her old life of comfort, but she was acutely aware Annie was not a slave. She cringed inside when she realized she simply didn’t know how to communicate with her. Annie wasn’t a slave, but Louisa couldn’t treat her as an equal. She supposed she could figure out a way to treat her as an employee, but Annie was Moses’ mother. She wasn’t an employee. She was simply a member of the household. A household Louisa was living in as a guest. Nothing in her whole life had prepared her for anything like this.
“You just don’t know what to do with me, do you?” Annie demanded. Her voice was direct, but her eyes were kind.
Louisa tried to conjure up an adequate response, but she suddenly didn’t have the energy. Living in this new world, with everything she had ever known ripped away from her, was suddenly more than she could handle. She shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for,” Annie replied. “I’m not real sure what to do with you, either.”
Louisa blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You look at me and see a slave,” Annie continued. “You ain’t never had to treat a black person as an equal before. Well, I ain’t never had to deal with a white person here in my own home who feels that way.”
Louisa stared at her, more at loss for words than ever. “I see,” she finally managed.
“No, I don’t reckon you do,” Annie replied, only her eyes showing her discomfort. “You don’t got no idea what it’s like to have lived your whole life as a slave and have white people looking at you like you ain’t really human. You don’t know what it’s like to have your children ripped away from you.” She paused. “How you think you would feel if someone came and took Jasper from you?”
Louisa gasped. “I would never let that happen!”
Annie nodded. “You got that choice. I didn’t,” she said. “Now that I’m back with all my children, and all my grandbabies, it’s a treasure I don’t take lightly. And I don’t like someone comin’ into my home and making me feel less than them.”
Louisa stared at her, a small sliver of light forcing its way into her closed mind. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, realizing with a feeling of shock that she meant it. “Truly, I’m sorry.” She had no idea what to do with the feeling, but it was there just the same.
Annie eyed her closely and nodded. “It’s a start,” she replied with satisfaction. “Now, you been stuck up in this room long enough. Why don’t you come down and have some tea and scones with us? And then you can help us.”
“Help you?” Louisa asked, feeling a little lost again.
“I know your mama taught you how to run a kitchen,” Annie answered. “And I heard you ain’t got no slaves down in Georgia, so you must know how to cook. How else do you feed your husband and son?”
“I cook,” Louisa admitted, trying desperately to realign her thinking to her new situation. She was at Cromwell as a guest because Blackwell Plantation was not livable. Her old way of life was completely gone. Evidently it was never going to come back. Certainly she could swallow her old beliefs and pretend to accept a new way of thinking and living, even if she couldn’t feel it. “I’ll be happy to help,” she said faintly, wondering what she had agreed to as she followed Annie down the stairs.
June and Polly were just pouring tea and putting out hot scones when they walked in.
June looked up and gave her a pleasant smile. “I’m glad you could join us, Louisa.”
Louisa smiled back, hoping her face didn’t reveal her distaste at a black person calling her by her first name. Her slaves had always called her Miss Blackwell, or Miss Louisa. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said courteously. She could tell by the flash of anger in June’s eyes that the other woman had read her expression, but Louisa simply didn’t know how to handle this. She reached for her cup of tea, hoping that having something in her hands would give her a feeling of control, however small.
“You closed the clinic today?” Annie asked.
Polly nodded. “The patient load is very light right now. I left a note saying to send one of the children from school to get us if there is an emergency. I wanted to be right here helping with the cooking.”
“Me, too,” June added, turning to Louisa. “Carrie told me so much about the annual tournament at Blackwell Plantation. The men have been working hard to get the arena ready for the competition.”
Louisa nodded. She sincerely doubted anything could match the splendor of a Blackwell tournament, but she was wondering about something else. “The clinic?”
Polly smiled. “Carrie started a health clinic here before she went off to medical school. She didn’t want to leave everyone high and dry, so she trained June and me to handle things while she’s away. It’s not the same as Carrie being here, but we can handle most things.”
Louisa tried to absorb this new information. It had always been the role of the plantation mistress to handle the medical needs of their people. She had never even entertained the idea that blacks could offer that kind of care. “I see,” she murmured, once again feeling completely lost and out of her depth.
Annie chuckled and handed her a scone slathered with butter. “You ain’t got no idea how to live in this new world, do you?”
Louisa shook her head. “I guess I don’t.” It suddenly horrified her to realize how true it was. She knew better than to say it wouldn’t be this way for long, but now she was wondering if that were true. All her neighbors back in Georgia insisted the blacks were simply incapable of caring for themselves. They assured her it was just a matter of time before the whites were once more in control of the South, and then things woul
d go back to normal. They had told her of plans all through the South to assure control would return to the whites, and that President Johnson was going to support them in making it happen.
In the time she had been here, she had become aware of how quickly President Johnson was losing any power to make things go his way in the country. She didn’t pretend to understand the political side of what was happening, but she was smart enough to realize things were once again not looking good for the old southern way of living. Perry had told her just how profitable Cromwell Plantation was this year. He had come into their room almost bug-eyed with the news of the huge tobacco harvest. Now she was listening to two well-spoken black women talk about running a medical clinic for the community. It both humiliated and enraged her that she simply had no point of reference. She wasn’t at all sure she should have a point of reference. The blacks here on the plantation must simply be unique. Certainly very few blacks were this capable.
Louisa looked up and saw Annie watching her closely. She flushed, certain the old woman could see inside her head. Rage and humiliation swelled her throat, threatening to choke her. She wished she could just run out the door and pretend none of this was happening. The reality of how much the South had changed had not really touched her until now. The only difference for her and Perry when the war ended was that they hadn’t had to worry about soldiers destroying their world anymore. She had felt comfortable on their farm, where she seldom thought of her old life. There was really nothing she had missed, because she had the things most important to her right there with her. Perry and Jasper filled her life with so much joy and love. When the cotton crop had been such a dismal failure, Perry had insisted they come to Virginia. She had suddenly yearned to see home again, not realizing every breath she took on Virginia soil was going to throw her old life in her face. She hated how inadequate and confused she felt in the world she had once reigned in.
“It’s going to take all of us some time,” Polly said.
Louisa stared in amazement as Polly reached out and took her hand. She had never in her life had a black person touch her of their own volition. She bit back a reprimand. She also reluctantly acknowledged that it felt good to be connected with a woman, even if she was a black woman. She let her hand stay where it was as she looked up in wonder.
“Did Robert ever tell you how he changed?” Polly asked.
Louisa shook her head silently. Perry had told her part of what Robert had revealed to him on the porch the first night they were there, but she was certain she only knew a fragment of the story.
“Me and my family saved Robert’s life,” Polly began quietly. “Moses brought him to us almost dead in the second year of the war. He lived with us until he could come home to Carrie.”
Louisa went still, wanting very much to hear the story. “Please tell me,” she whispered, not bothering to analyze why she wanted to hear it. The only thing she truly comprehended was that she wanted to find a way to live in this new world. Robert had been raised in the same world she had, and she knew his belief in slavery had kept him and Carrie apart. Something had obviously changed. She had seen Robert’s glowing happiness. Now she wanted to understand it.
“Did Robert ever tell you that Moses’ father was the one who killed his daddy?”
Louisa gaped at her. She had heard rumors of Robert’s father being killed by a runaway slave, but she knew nothing more than that. “You’re serious?” Her mind flashed to the close friendship Robert and Moses had. Even she could see it, and Perry had commented on it.
“They’ve come a long way,” June said with a chuckle.
Louisa swung her head toward Moses’ sister, drawn to the warm intelligence in the woman’s kind eyes. “I want to know the whole story,” she said, surprised to discover she suddenly wanted that more than anything.
The morning melted away as Polly told the story of how Moses had brought Robert to them after he’d been discovered almost dead on the battlefield. She told of the struggle all of them had faced to overcome their prejudices and fears. Her eyes glowed as she told of Robert taking his first steps, and tears filled her eyes when she spoke of the day he had ridden away. “None of us thought we would ever see him again,” she admitted. “It’s hard to believe sometimes that we are all living on this plantation together.”
“When did Robert find out about Moses’ father?” Louisa asked, completely caught up in the drama of the tale.
“A few months after the war ended,” June revealed. “Robert almost died of pneumonia, but Carrie brought him back to life. Actually,” she corrected, “Carrie kept him alive, but it was Amber who brought him back to life. He loves that little girl with all his heart.”
Louisa knew that was true. She had seen the two of them together. She had heard their laughter drifting through the air from the stable.
“They worked it out,” Annie said. “Both them men realized they had nothing to do with who their daddies had been or what they had done. They figured out that it don’t do no good to live in the past. It will always be a part of who they are, but their lives will be about the choices they make now.”
Louisa flushed, but she no longer felt rage and humiliation. She got Annie’s message loud and clear. She also knew she felt completely at home with these three warm, loving women. They had every right to resent her because of her family and her own beliefs, but they had chosen to embrace her. As she realized what a huge privilege that was, she could almost feel the chains falling from around her heart. But with no words to express her revelation, she knew she still had a ways to go.
“Don’t we have work to do now?” was the only thing she could think of to say.
Annie nodded, her eyes bright with approval. “That we do, Miss Louisa. That we do…”
Chapter Seventeen
Carrie was exhausted as she headed toward home. She had lost track of the days she had been going to Moyamensing, but the tide had finally turned. There had been more deaths from the cholera, but there had been many more people snatched back from the brink. People called her name now as Michael, who had become her exclusive driver, ferried her through the neighborhood. Biddy had kept a constant stream of the homeopathic remedies coming. Carrie, Carolyn, and several other of the Homeopathic College students who had offered to help, dispensed them as quickly as they arrived. Janie had joined them for a few days, but she had also continued with her classes. Carrie had simply devoted all her time to the Irish of Moyamensing. She knew the day of reckoning would come in regard to medical school, but she didn’t have the energy to focus on it.
The cholera hospital was still full, but there were no more from this neighborhood. She and the others had distributed camphor to those who were still vulnerable, but they had found no active cases in their rounds today. They had distributed veratrum to several households where they had trained the women to treat people if they became ill, and they had educated everyone they could talk to about how to avoid cholera in the first place.
If the dropping temperatures were any indication, Philadelphia was not far away from its first frost. Cholera always retreated with the arrival of freezing temperatures. Carrie hated to hasten the arrival of the city’s brutal winter, but she realized it would save many people this year. She shuddered and pulled her coat tighter, grateful for the blanket Michael had insisted she put over her lap.
“You did good, Mrs. Borden.”
Carrie heard Michael’s words through a haze of fatigue. Now that things were under control, she was acutely aware of just how weary she was. She forced herself to look at him and smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Michael. Without you getting the remedies… Without you picking us up every day…”
Michael nodded. “I told you I would do anything you needed when you saved my sister and nephew. I’m just glad I was there to help.”
“It took all of us to save so many people,” Carrie murmured. “Thank you.” She fought her drooping eyelids, feeling almost desperate to get home, take a hot bath and
crawl into bed. She was quite certain she would be able to sleep for days.
She waved goodbye to Michael as he drove off, and then she turned to trudge up the stairs. She felt a vague appreciation for the brightly colored fall leaves dancing on the oak trees that lined the street, knowing they wouldn’t be there much longer. In three days she would go home to the plantation for the Harvest Celebration, and she could hardly wait. She had said she wouldn’t go if the cholera wasn’t under control, but Carolyn had assured her that she and the others could handle whatever came up. Carrie felt too empty to protest. Every part of her was drained and weary. She had much to deal with when she returned to Philadelphia after the celebration, but she was happy to keep pushing it back. In the meantime, she had done what she had set out to do—help the people of Moyamensing. Her own personal situation would have to wait.
She turned the doorknob and managed a small smile at the scrumptious aromas of fresh bread and soup. Her stomach reminded her how ravenously hungry she was. Delicious heat engulfed her as she took off her winter coat, hung it on the coat tree and stepped into the living room. The day had actually gotten comfortably warm, but a brisk breeze blowing in off the ocean since early afternoon had chased the Indian summer away. Carrie shivered and rubbed her hands together, eager to sit down and eat dinner before she went to bed.
“You’re home.”
Carrie looked up and smiled at Florence. “I am. Dinner smells wonderful.”
Florence gave her a vague smile, but her eyes were shuttered. Carrie hesitated when Elizabeth and Alice both stepped into the living room, as well, with hard expressions on their faces. As weary as Carrie was, she was also acutely aware that her dreamed-of, restful evening was not going to become a reality. She had been grateful the last few weeks that no one had pressed her for information. They’d not had a chance. Carrie had returned home late each evening after everyone had already retired, leaving just as quietly early the next morning before the others were awake. Janie had been in her room a few times, but none of the rest of her housemates had sought her out. She had hoped to put off this confrontation a while longer, but it looked like that wouldn’t be possible.