The Long Way Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  ‘‘She’s saying ‘I love you, Auntie Louisa.’ Can there be any doubt of that?’’

  Carrie Mae sat down on the horsehair sofa beside her sister and, leaning her chin on Louisa’s shoulder, watched her baby’s efforts. ‘‘Isn’t she the smartest, most beautiful baby you ever did see? Why, Mama would bust her buttons over this baby, and can you think what Lucinda would say?’’

  ‘‘I reckon Daddy would have been carrying her out to the barn already to make sure she loves the horses from the beginning.’’

  ‘‘Carrying, my right foot! He’d have had her up in the saddle with him.’’ Carrie Mae traced the outline of her daughter’s cheek with a gentle fingertip. ‘‘Sometimes I want to go home and see Mama and Daddy again so bad that I near to run out that door and call for the carriage.’’

  ‘‘I know.’’ Louisa sniffed back the tears. No matter that their parents had gone ahead to heaven, when she thought of home, they were still there. The big house and all the barns, the slaves’ quarters, the trees, the rose garden, all were still there.

  ‘‘Miss Carrie Mae, message from Mr. Jefferson.’’ The maid paused in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged.

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ Carrie Mae took the envelope, and with a slight shrug to her sister, slit it open.

  ‘‘Oh, bother.’’ She heaved a sigh. ‘‘Is he waitin’ for an answer?’’

  ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

  ‘‘Tell him I’ll be ready.’’ Carrie Mae turned to Louisa. ‘‘Jefferson says I have to accompany him to a soirée tonight. President Davis and General Lee will be the guests of honor.’’ She tapped the envelope on the edge of her finger. ‘‘How would you like to come with us?’’

  Louisa shook her head. ‘‘No, I wasn’t invited. And besides, I have nothing to wear to something like that. I’ll just go on home and—’’

  ‘‘And you’ll do nothing of the kind.’’ Carrie Mae studied her sister. ‘‘You’ve lost so much weight we might have to take in one of my dresses. I’ll have Lettie do your hair. She is the best with a hot iron and pins. Come on, we haven’t played dress-up in years.’’

  Louisa looked down at the baby now blinking her eyes to stay awake.

  ‘‘I’d much rather stay here and take care of Miriam. She and I can have a fine time.’’

  ‘‘No, we’ll put her down to sleep, and you and I are going to get ready.’’

  ‘‘But Aunt Sylvania is expecting me.’’ Louisa now had a pretty good idea what a drowning victim felt like. Getting enough air in the face of Carrie Mae’s whirlwind tactics took extra doing.

  ‘‘I’ll send her a note.’’ Carrie Mae picked up the baby. ‘‘Besides, maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams there.’’

  I think maybe I’ve already met the man of my dreams, but no one will ever know that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE

  ‘‘Is that really me?’’ Louisa stared at the figure in the fulllength mirror.

  ‘‘It most surely is. I knew there was a beauty hiding under that mouse look of yours. I know you do good works, but you don’t always have to look so . . . so . . .’’ Carrie Mae made a face.

  ‘‘Should I take that as a compliment?’’ Louisa touched one of the springy curls that lay over her shoulder. Lettie had gathered the curls up in back with diamanté clips and waved the hair on top of her head. The clips caught the light every time Louisa moved her head. She touched the strands of gold and sapphires around her slender neck and smoothed down the sides of the blue silk overskirt that flared from her narrow waist and was gathered into scallops by small nosegays of single roses. The pleated underskirt of cream lace was threaded by matching narrow ribbon.

  ‘‘Here.’’ Carrie Mae handed her a silk fan. She stepped back and studied her sister. ‘‘You look lovely.’’

  ‘‘So do you.’’ Louisa turned from her image. ‘‘Wouldn’t Daddy be proud of his girls?’’

  ‘‘The cab is here, ma’am.’’

  ‘‘Do you need a shawl?’’ Carrie Mae held out a diaphanous drape.

  ‘‘Maybe I should.’’ Louisa looked again at the amount of flesh showing above the low cut of the bodice.

  Carrie Mae draped the shawl around her sister’s shoulders, stood for Lettie to do the same for her, and the two of them sailed out the door.

  Louisa swallowed the butterflies that threatened to take wing. What on earth was she doing all dressed up like this when she should be home taking care of her boys? What if something happened to Aunt Sylvania? What if— ‘

  ‘Now you just quit your worryin’ and have a good time. You deserve a good time for a change. You’ve been workin’ like a servant ever since we left home. And before then.’’

  But Louisa knew better—it was Jesselynn who had worked so hard to keep Twin Oaks going. While she and Carrie Mae could be excused because they were young, she knew they could have been more help. Should have been more help.

  The driver halted the cab under the portico of the Ambergine Mansion, and a doorman stepped forward to assist the two women. Louisa shook out her skirt, reminded herself to quit chewing on her lower lip and, head held high, followed her sister through the doors. Oh, Lord, here we go. Are you sure this is where I belong?

  Light danced among the crystals on the chandeliers as they waited in the receiving line. Within moments Jefferson Steadly joined them, kissing his wife on the cheek and smiling at Louisa.

  ‘‘What a pleasure to have two such beautiful women to introduce around this evening. I’m glad you could join us, sister Louisa.’’ He bowed over her hand and led the two sisters forward.

  ‘‘Is that who I think it is?’’ Louisa tried to hang back.

  ‘‘Of course.’’ Jefferson stepped forward again. ‘‘President Davis, may I introduce you to my sister-in-law, Miss Louisa Highwood?’’

  ‘‘Why, most certainly. I am delighted.’’ Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederate States of America, took Louisa’s hand and bowed, his neatly trimmed beard brushing the back of her hand.

  ‘‘I-I’m honored, Mr. President.’’ Louisa tried swallowing, but her words still sounded breathless.

  ‘‘No, I am the one honored. I have heard tales of a lovely young woman who, with her brother, dons various disguises and ventures north to bring back medical supplies for our suffering men. Someone even told me of a nefarious raccoon. . . .’’

  Louisa couldn’t contain the smile. ‘‘The poor creature who gave its life to assist us was a possum, sir.’’

  ‘‘Ah.’’ He nodded, eyes twinkling. ‘‘So it is you.’’ He turned. ‘‘And that is your brother over there?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir.’’

  ‘‘Besides these mercy trips, Zachary has proven a great help since he came to work for me.’’

  As if sensing he was being spoken of, Zachary turned. At the sight of his sisters, he straightened, then ordered his face into a semblance of a smile and nodded.

  ‘‘Thank you, sir. I am truly grateful that we could help our wounded.’’ But please make this war stop. But she kept the smile on her face as they were handed to the next man in line.

  ‘‘I heartily concur with our president’s comments.’’ General Robert E. Lee, hair now fully white, bowed over her hand.

  Louisa glanced at Carrie Mae, seeking support. ‘‘Th-thank you, General. I-I never . . .’’ She swallowed and sucked in a breath of air, air now grown sultry with perfume and cigar smoke.

  The general leaned closer, speaking more softly for her ears alone. ‘‘In spite of what a certain young man believes, I am grateful for your efforts to keep him alive. We need his talents to help bring our country through this war and out on the other side.’’

  I cannot believe these men know about what we did. ‘‘Thank you, sir.’’

  With a hand at her back, Jefferson eased the sisters through those trying to talk with the two famous men and on toward the table set up with food that far surpassed anything Louisa had dreamed of in the past years. Hams
and roasts of beef, salads, bite-sized vegetables, hors d’oeuvres of delectable colors and shapes. Young men in white jackets walked about the room with trays of fluted glasses that Louisa knew contained spirits.

  She declined a beverage and allowed herself to be propelled to the end of the table where the serving began. Full plate in hand, she seated herself at the table Jefferson indicated, all with the feeling she was up high in one of the corners looking down on some stranger who had assumed her name.

  She studied the food on her plate. If only she could take these delicacies home to her boys, how they would delight in the tempting fare.

  ‘‘Now don’t you go thinkin’ of others right now. Just enjoy what you have before you, now hear?’’ Carrie Mae leaned close enough to whisper in Louisa’s ear.

  ‘‘Are you a mind reader or what?’’

  ‘‘Never you mind, but I was right, wasn’t I?’’

  Louisa nodded. Since she was sitting with her back to the damask draperies, she could watch the room, or what she could see of it between groups of people. Zachary remained on the other side of the ballroom, one man staying by his side. The two of them were in deep discussion, interrupted by brief interludes of conversation with other men and women. She could tell by watching him that he greeted these interruptions out of necessity but would rather have talked only with the one man.

  And that man looked familiar. Where had she seen him before? Trying to figure that out, Louisa ate most of her supper without much attention to the conversations around her.

  ‘‘Sister, come back. Where are you?’’ Carrie Mae tapped Louisa’s arm with her fan.

  Louisa started, nearly dropping a bite of ham. ‘‘Why? What?’’ She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. ‘‘Did you say something?’’

  Carrie Mae giggled behind her fan. ‘‘I wondered if you noticed.’’

  ‘‘Noticed what?’’

  ‘‘That man over there with Zachary. He keeps lookin’ our way. Do you know who he is?’’

  ‘‘No, but he does look familiar.’’

  ‘‘Well, I thought sure you must know him, the way he’s been starin’ at you.’’

  ‘‘Well, if he’s a friend of Zachary’s, he—’’

  ‘‘Look, he’s comin’ this way. Jefferson, dear, do you know who he is?’’

  ‘‘Who?’’ He followed his wife’s gaze. ‘‘Oh, of course, that is Wilson Scott, recently recovered from his war injuries. He was a year or two ahead of Zachary at college.’’ Steadly stood to extend his hand. ‘‘Welcome back to Richmond, Wilson. Glad to see you are looking so well.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, good evening.’’ He stopped in front of the table. ‘‘Miss Highwood, Mrs. Steadly, I’m sure you don’t remember me.’’

  Louisa felt like someone was cracking open a door in her mind but wouldn’t open it to reveal the secret hiding there. Then the door swung wider.

  ‘‘Willy?’’ Louisa laughed in delight. ‘‘You visited Twin Oaks one summer with Zachary. I remember that—’’

  ‘‘Oh, please. I know what you are going to say. I fell off one of your horses, smack dab into a slough. Your older sister laughed so hard I thought she might fall off, but—’’

  ‘‘It would take more than laughter to unseat Jesselynn.’’

  ‘‘Join us. Please sit down.’’ Jefferson swung a chair next to the table. He waved to a waiter. ‘‘Bring this man a drink.’’

  Louisa watched as Wilson sank into the chair with a sigh of relief that she knew she wasn’t supposed to notice. By the way he moved, she guessed he’d suffered a back injury.

  While he answered Jefferson’s questions, she noticed other things, like well-cut lips that smiled so readily, hazel eyes with creases at the edges that spoke of either laughter or lots of time in the sun. A patch of hair on the right side of his head had turned white, stark against the rich cordovan of the rest. A slight bead of sweat on his clean-shaven upper lip made her think he might be in pain, even now. While he wasn’t a tall man, his broad shoulders filled out the dark coat and gave him an imposing air.

  Louisa brought herself back into the moment. ‘‘And what rank will you return as?’’

  ‘‘Major.’’

  Ah, another major in my life. The thought made her sigh. And from the sounds of things, this one would be gone as soon as the other. She felt her sister’s foot nudge hers under the table.

  ‘‘Can I get you anything, Major?’’ She nodded toward the table of food.

  ‘‘No, thank you, but I’d best be going on.’’ He looked Louisa directly in the eyes. ‘‘But I would like to call on you tomorrow, Miss Highwood. If that is not too forward. I mean . . . I know . . . if times were different . . .’’

  Louisa smiled. Now would be the time to use her fan, to open it and fan herself oh so delicately. But she kept her fan closed on the cord about her wrist.

  ‘‘That would be fine.’’ She could hear the squeal that Carrie Mae didn’t utter. Had this all been a setup? She wouldn’t put such a thing past her baby sister, not for one minute.

  CHAPTER THIRTY - FOUR

  On the Chugwater River

  Jesselynn found Ophelia kneeling by the drying racks.

  ‘‘Are you all right?’’

  ‘‘Soon be.’’ She laid more strips in place as the smoke shrank the former. She groaned and clutched her belly.

  ‘‘The baby is coming?’’ Jesselynn knelt beside her.

  ‘‘Yessum. Be soon now, I be thinkin’.’’

  ‘‘I’ll get Mrs. Mac.’’ Jesselynn could feel her heart speed up already. While she’d helped at many birthings, she’d never done one herself.

  ‘‘Not yet.’’

  ‘‘You’ll tell me when?’’

  Ophelia’s laugh turned into another groan. She got up and walked around the fire to move more strips around. ‘‘Dis baby in a hurry to be borned.’’

  ‘‘I’ll have Jane Ellen take the boys to play in the other cave and get Mrs. Mac. My medicine box is . . .’’ She glanced up at the shelf. ‘‘Right here.’’ Jesselynn laid a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder. ‘‘Do we have time for that?’’

  Ophelia nodded and started slicing more strips off the elk haunch.

  Jesselynn headed back outside to the gathering and, drawing Meshach aside, whispered the news to him. Then she made her way to Jane Ellen.

  ‘‘Please watch the two little ones. Ophelia is having her baby.’’

  Jane Ellen jumped to her feet. ‘‘You want I should help?’’

  ‘‘You will be by keeping them out of the way. I’m getting Mrs. Mac.’’

  Jesselynn stood just behind Mrs. McPhereson, who was talking with Aunt Agatha. ‘‘Mrs. Mac, Ophelia is having her baby,’’ she whispered. ‘‘Come when you can.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be right there. Let me get my things.’’

  ‘‘Is she all right?’’ Aunt Agatha had obviously overheard.

  ‘‘I hope so. She keeps working at the drying rack.’’

  ‘‘You want to take her to one of the other caves and let the rest of us see to dinner?’’

  Jesselynn stopped. Aunt Agatha had indeed spoken to her, just like she used to. Thank you, Lord. The forgiveness was a reality.

  ‘‘How far along is she?’’

  ‘‘No idea.’’

  Though Jesselynn hadn’t been gone more than five minutes, when they returned they found Ophelia lying on a pallet, pushed up against the wall so she had a backrest.

  ‘‘It comin’,’’ she groaned, panting between contractions.

  Mrs. Mac dashed to her side, and Jesselynn fetched her medical kit off the shelf. At least she had scissors and tincture of iodine in it. The baby had slipped out and lay in Mrs. Mac’s hands by the time she returned.

  ‘‘A girl. You have a baby girl.’’ Mrs. Mac sniffled between the words. ‘‘She is so perfect.’’ The baby let out a squall loud enough to be heard over thunder, making all three women chuckle. ‘‘She sure has a healthy set of l
ungs.’’ She laid the baby on Ophelia’s chest and turned to Jesselynn. ‘‘You can cut the cord after we tie it off. You brought some string?’’

  ‘‘No, but a fine piece of latigo should work.’’ Jesselynn knelt at Ophelia’s side. ‘‘You did fine, ’Phelia, just fine. And now we got a little girl in camp. Just think, she’s the firstborn of our new life.’’ She kept up the comforting words as she waited for the cord to cease pulsing, knotted the latigo, and cut the cord.

  ‘‘De baby borned already?’’ Meshach stopped just inside the curve of the wall.

  ‘‘You have a baby girl, and she is not happy with any of us at the moment.’’ Jesselynn smiled up at the big man. ‘‘We’ll get things cleaned up here, and you can come visit.’’

  Ophelia held out her hand. ‘‘Come see our baby.’’

  Within minutes, Ophelia was sitting propped against Meshach’s chest, their daughter tugging on a nipple like she’d been nursing for weeks.

  ‘‘She just like a little pig.’’ Meshach traced his daughter’s skull with a gentle forefinger. ‘‘What shall we name her?’’

  ‘‘Lucinda.’’

  ‘‘Ah, such a fine name. Lucinda be pleased she have a namesake.’’

  ‘‘And what name will you use for your surname, now that you are free?’’ Jesselynn knelt beside the family and offered a cup of water for Ophelia to drink. ‘‘You must drink lots now to make milk for the baby.’’ She glanced back to Meshach to see a look of pure fear masking his usual smile.

  ‘‘You don’ want us to be Highwood?’’

  ‘‘Oh, Meshach. That’s not what I meant at all.’’ She shook her head and held out her hand. ‘‘No, Meshach, I would be proud if you want to keep the family name. But some . . . some . . .’’ She turned her slightly cupped hands palm up. ‘‘Some freedmen never want to hear their old name again.’’

  ‘‘But some freedmen had massahs what beat dem. Marse Joshua was one fine Christian genneman. He more like a father to me den my own father.’’

  Thank you, Lord, for giving me a father like mine. Times like this I miss him so much I could bawl like a baby. Daddy, if you can hear, be proud of us. Be glad for us, for our new life out here.