“Mr. Cain!” she shouted as she ran. “Mr. Cain!” He stayed seated, as still as death.
She reached him and threw an arm around his shoulders. “You got to come in!” she yelled. “You catch your death out here, then what are your children going to do?”
He looked up, but without sign of recognition. She tried to pull him up. Water poured off his hat into his lap. She grabbed him by the shirt, but he still didn’t move and she couldn’t budge him. The rain pelted them, big drops that hurt as they fell. Camellia squinted back at the house; she could barely see the light from the lamps inside. She started to rush back but wondered what she’d tell the children. They’d wail for their pa and want to know why she hadn’t brought him back.
“Come on!” she shouted. “Your kids are fearful for you!”
Josh stayed rigid, almost as if he didn’t hear her. She squatted and took his face in her hands. He stared blankly at her. Then, without thinking, she slapped him! Just like that, an open hand to his cheek! He blinked and his eyes widened.
“I reckon losing your Anna hurts real deep!” she shouted. “Worse than just about anything! And I know you got to grieve her! But you got three children who need you! Three children who get scared when you don’t come in at night and sit at the table with them, when you don’t … don’t take care of them like a pa should!”
She stopped to take a breath. But since Josh turned his head slightly, as if hearing her for the first time, she kept going. “I know it’s not my place!” she yelled over the rain and wind. “But somebody’s got to say it! You can’t stay here by this grave forever; you got to get up and move on with your living! For your children, if nobody else! That’s what your Anna would want! I know that’s the truth!”
She stopped again as the rain drove hard across her face. Josh kept staring at the grave, and Camellia knew of nothing more to say. So she simply sat beside him, until the wind died some and the rain let up. Then she patted him on the back.
“It’s done,” she soothed, her voice softer, quieter now that she didn’t have to shout over the storm. “But life’s got to go on, you know that. You can’t sit here every night for the rest of your days.”
Josh Cain moved his glance from the grave to the sky, as if questioning the heavens. The rain had splattered on his cheeks, mixing with his tears. He suddenly looked young to Camellia—too young to have experienced the depth of hurt that Anna’s dying had caused.
He’s barely ten years older than me, she realized. But life has already cut him deeply. Did life always do that? Like with her pa losing his wife, now Josh losing his? Did death stalk around all the time, taking a wife here and a husband there, a child in one minute, a sister or brother in the next? It seemed that way to Camellia; as if nobody could ever count on tomorrow because death might grab them any second. Of course the Good Book said it just that way; that a body could never know when death might strike, that life was just a vapor that appeared for a little while and then vanished. She knew that people did one of two things in the face of such quick dying: They either figured they’d be dead soon, so they better grab everything they could right now, or they looked at life’s shortness and eternity’s length and decided they best do all they could to get ready for the time after the grave caught them.
Camellia patted Josh’s back once more. He’d have to decide how long he’d grieve, she decided. There was nothing else she could do to aid him. She stood as the wind dropped some more, and the rain finally stopped. Smoothing some of her rain-soaked hair away from her face, she turned to go back to the children.
“Camellia?”
She twisted back to Josh. “Yes?”
“You think the Lord punishes us for our sin?”
“Not sure what you mean,” she said, puzzled.
“You know, when we do wrong, does the Lord take his blessing from us? Worse still, does the Lord strike his hand against us if we stray?”
“The Book says the Lord disciplines us … least the parson said that once.”
He sighed. “You think my losing Anna was the Lord’s hand against me, trying to teach me a lesson?”
“I can’t think of a sin bad enough for the Lord to strike down a wife just to teach a husband something,” she offered. “You figure a parent would kill one child to punish a second one?”
“Don’t guess I would.”
“I can’t imagine you did anything bad enough for this kind of heartache,” she said gently. “You’re a kind man.”
He smiled, but only briefly. “You don’t know me. I’m like all men, prone to weakness and sin.”
“What kind of sin?”
He shook his head. “All kinds. Things I did—back in the war and all. Then things I haven’t done, haven’t said, haven’t told.”
“You want to talk about those things?”
He eyed her for several seconds, then put a hand on the muddy ground and pushed up. “You’re a blessing to me,” he said softly.
“I’m your friend. I care for you, the children.”
“You’re wise for your years. A woman of Christian virtue.”
“You flatter me.”
“It’s the truth.”
Glad to see him acting normal again, she took his elbow, and together they made their way back to the house. The children met them at the door: Beth with a cup of hot coffee in each hand, Butler with a couple of rags to dry them off. A few minutes later, after they’d both changed, Camellia into some of Anna’s old clothes, they took seats at the kitchen table and sipped the coffee. Beth and the children sat with them for a few minutes but then, seeing their pa was fine, drifted away. Josh took a sip of his coffee, then set the mug on the table.
“Thank you for your kindness. You’ve done far more than you should have.”
“The children need me,” Camellia said, noticing his gentle eyes.
“You don’t need to keep coming here every day,” he said. “I know it’s a burden, and you’ve got other things on your mind, with the marriage and all coming up.”
“It’s no burden,” she insisted. “I love your children.”
“But what about your own family?”
“Chester and Johnny work all day; I hardly see them except at night. They’re old enough to get by without me. Your kids need me more.”
“Still, you do too much.”
“Are you telling me not to come anymore? That you don’t want me?”
Josh sipped from his coffee. “No, not that. You’re such a friend to Beth. But what you said there”—he nodded toward the grave—“you’re right. I’ve got to move on. You helped me see it. It’ll be hard, and I expect I’ll have some lapses. But I have to look ahead. I can’t let down my duties to my children. Anna wouldn’t want that, and neither do I. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I have to say good-bye to Anna. I have to leave my sadness and start over.”
“You’ll find your way,” offered Camellia. “You have a good heart. You’ll provide your children everything they need.” She took another sip of her coffee.
Josh looked curiously at her. “I just noticed … you sound different lately. I can’t rightly get it in my sights, but something … your voice, your … you seem more … mature maybe … your words?”
Camellia blushed. “You’re the only one to catch it.”
“What is it?” He sat on the edge of his chair.
“I’m learning to read,” she said, feeling a thrill unlike any she’d ever experienced. “Trying to talk correctly, like the books do. Not sound so much like an ignorant girl. I don’t always get it right, but I’m striving. Ruby is teaching me my letters.”
“Ruby?”
Camellia clamped her mouth shut, hoping she hadn’t gotten Ruby in trouble.
Josh quickly ended her fears. “Don’t fret. I know some folks teach their servants to read. Ruby learned before she got here; what am I going to do about it now?”
Camellia relaxed. “I’ve learned with her close to six months. Ruby says I’m doing wel
l. Faster than she learned, and she’s real smart. I spend as much time as I can with it.”
“I’m proud for you,” Josh said, leaning back. “Wanting to improve yourself, and not acting too good to let a servant teach you.”
Camellia shrugged. “A servant can know as much as me. I grew up with the coloreds; don’t see a lot of difference between me and them but the shade of my skin.”
“Better keep such talk to yourself,” Josh cautioned. “Not many around these parts agree with that view.”
Camellia stared into her coffee. Beth ran in and got some water, then hurried out again. Camellia figured she should just drop the subject, but Josh surprised her by keeping it going.
“I wonder about it sometimes,” he admitted in a whisper. “Especially when I read the Bible. You know, like Luke 4 and all. Where Jesus said he came to preach the gospel to the poor, deliverance to the captives, to set at liberty them that are oppressed. Seems to me those kinds of words give us all reason to pause, ponder some about what we’re doing owning other folks.”
Camellia glanced around, as if expecting somebody to jump on them for some bad crime. “I’ve heard preachers use the Bible to prove the case for slavery.”
Josh nodded. “I’ve heard it too. But somehow it still seems wrong to me.”
Camellia’s hands loosened on her cup. “Funny,” she said, changing the subject. “I’ve knowed you—uh, known you—for years but never knew you as a man of Scripture.”
Josh sipped coffee. “We’ve not talked much until these last few months. No reason before then for us to truly know each other.”
She nodded. Although they lived and worked on the same plantation, their lives had not touched much, except on the surface.
“I’m a believer,” Josh said plainly. “Spend time with the Bible most every day, and some extra time with it on the beach most every Sunday afternoon. You like the parson at the Episcopal church?”
Camellia shrugged. “He’s maybe a mite too fancy for me, but otherwise, I guess he’s okay. Don’t like to say much bad about a man of the cloth.”
“You go to services some, don’t you?”
“When I can. But we’re over a day’s ride away. Hard to get there.”
“I hear some about the Baptists in Beaufort. Little more fire in their belly than the Episcopals.”
“You ever go to church?” asked Camellia.
Josh dropped his eyes, as if suddenly ashamed. “Not as much as I ought,” he admitted. “Don’t feel worthy of it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story, not for telling now. I’ve thought about going to the Baptist church sometime. Maybe I’ll go soon.”
“Pa says the Baptists do too much shouting for him.” Camellia grinned. “And their preacher goes on too long—an hour or more.”
“A little bit of religion seems to do York just fine,” agreed Josh.
Camellia laughed, and peace flowed over her. For the first time since she’d known him, Josh Cain felt more like a friend than an uncle. Without thinking, she spoke what had bothered her for a long time. “I don’t see Trenton as too religious either. That scares me when I think on it too long.”
“I’m certain it would.”
“You think hell change when we marry?”
When Josh focused on the floor and was silent, Camellia knew he had his doubts.
“I know the Bible says we ought not to unequally yoke ourselves. But Trenton was baptized in the church, so I know he’s of the faith.”
Josh faced her, concern in his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s enough. Seems to me that the Bible says we have to believe in Jesus when we get old enough to understand. I don’t see anywhere that baptism as a baby does anything for our souls; how can it? We’re not old enough to know about Jesus. The Book says we have to personally trust Jesus as our Lord.”
Camellia had heard that too but didn’t exactly know what it meant. She had been baptized as a baby but came to know the Lord better as she grew up. Was her faith not real if she’d never been splashed all the way under the water as a grown-up woman? But that didn’t make sense. The water didn’t save anybody; she knew enough to realize that. A person had to trust the Lord, and she’d done that … even though she couldn’t put her finger on an actual day and time that it had happened.
“1 guess I’ll have to pray harder for Trenton,” she said, more concerned for him than herself. “I know the Lord can change him, even if I can’t.”
“The Lord can change anybody; least the Book says it that way.”
“I’m trying to read the Bible some now, but it’s hard. I found an old one at the house. Ruby won’t teach me from it, though. She’s not of a religious nature.”
“The Bible will help you, I’m sure.”
“I still have so much to learn. Maybe you can teach me some.” Suddenly, she was eager to learn from somebody as smart as Josh.
Confusion wrinkled his brow.
“To read,” she emphasized. “You read so well.”
“I’d be proud to do what I can. Although it won’t take much for you to catch up with me.”
As Camellia gazed into Josh’s kindly eyes, a strange feeling ran through her … a feeling she’d never experienced with Trenton. She felt confused by it. What was this skipping of the heart? This heat in her face and shoulders?
“What kind of books you like so far?” Josh asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“All of them,” she said, glad for the chance to think about something else.
“I like Dickens.”
She smiled. She knew so little of this man whose children she’d come to love. “Will you teach me to read his books?”
“It’s a small way to repay you for all you’ve done. Yes, I’ll do it gladly.”
Camellia brushed back her hair and relaxed. Josh Cain knew so much. And he trusted the Lord as she did.
“It’s good to have somebody to talk to,” he said wistfully. “I miss that.”
“You listened to me,” she replied. “When Stella brought me to you last winter.”
He stared at her. “You doing better about all that?”
“I still get fearful sometimes. Worry that the law will find out and come for me. Have dreams about it from time to time. Feel guilty about marrying Trenton without telling him. Other than that, I never think of it.” She chuckled.
“Bad things happen. Not much we can do about it. All of us have a few things we’d like to do differently if we got the chance, things we’d like to tell if we could. Can’t always do it, though. Some things we have to keep buried, no matter how much we want to dig them up.”
She eyed him closely. “You got things buried?”
He shrugged. “Might surprise you.”
“You sound mysterious.”
“Not so much, but I’ve neglected a thing or two I need to take care of.”
“Your Anna has been sick.”
“True, but that’s not much of an excuse. I expect it’s time to make some amends about a few things.”
“You want to tell me about it?”
He paused, then shook his head. “Not tonight.”
Camellia saw from his eyes that he’d say no more, so she let it drop. As the fire crackled, she simply sat by Josh Cain and drank coffee, appreciating the fact that for the first time she could remember, she had a fellow believer other than Stella as a friend. It surprised her that it had come this way, in a man she’d known a long time but not closely, a man who liked to read and thought a whole lot like she did. But that didn’t take away any of the comfort it brought. As the rain started to fall again, she relaxed and talked and even forgot for a while that she would marry Trenton Tessier in the spring.
Chapter Sixteen
The next few weeks saw a visible difference in Josh Cain’s stride. Although he still didn’t laugh as much as in the past, the worst of his hurt over Anna’s death seemed to slip off his shoulders. He talked a little easier with his children again, spent less time at A
nna’s graveside, set his hat on his head every morning with a hard shove, and turned his eyes toward the labor set out before him. Of course he had a lot of work to do, what with harvest days having arrived. That kept him so busy he didn’t have too much time to grieve anyway.
By the time the next to last week of September rolled around and they’d been gathering the rice for several weeks, he seemed almost normal again, his steady direction to the field hands taking some of the harshness out of the frantic pace that Master Trenton and Hampton York set for them.
On Monday of that week he left his house early, eager to get started. At least three more weeks of harvest lay ahead. Mature rice stalks swayed in the breeze as far as he could see. He met York and they headed to the fields. The morning passed quickly. Josh and York stopped for only a few minutes for a bite to eat at midday. The afternoon pushed ahead. About halfway through it, Josh paused, took a breath, and looked up at the sky. Sweat soaked his shirt. On days like this, his body felt baked by the end of the day, as if somebody had laid it on the beach beside a bonfire to dry in the sun. He pulled a handkerchief out and wiped his brow. Clouds had begun to bank from the southeast, and he was glad. A little afternoon rain, if not too heavy, would cool the air some but not hurt the rice. He felt good about the progress of the work. They should get a good full crop this year, and from what he’d heard, prices were good.
He put his handkerchief away and thought of his plans after the harvest ended. He’d go first to the law in Beaufort, then over to Charleston. Although close to a year had passed since Mossy Bank, he’d do all he could to make up for his tardy ways. The wind shifted, and he checked the sky again. All of a sudden he noticed that the air felt cooler. He wrinkled his brow and glanced around the field. Everything seemed normal, but still he felt strange, suddenly tense. The breeze worried him. It felt too steady for this time of day all of a sudden, as if a huge silent hand was pushing it from behind, shoving it onto shore.
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