by Ginny Dye
“Telegram for Abigail Livingston,” the uniformed boy said.
“I am Mrs. Livingston,” Aunt Abby said graciously. She reached for the envelope with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Have a good day, ma’am,” the boy said as he tipped his hat and left the porch.
Carrie came in from the garden, her arms laden with a basket of vegetables. “Good news?” she called.
“I don’t know,” Aunt Abby responded, wondering at the quickening of her pulse as she gazed at the envelope.
“Only one way to find out,” Carrie said teasingly as she handed the basket to May and stepped up beside her. She glanced at Aunt Abby’s face more closely. “Is everything alright?” she asked with concern.
Aunt Abby forced a laugh. “I have no reason to suspect otherwise,” she said lightly. “I don’t know why this telegram has made me uneasy. I suppose four years of war have left me never knowing what to expect. I can’t get used to the fact that I no longer have to worry about the people I love most,” she added, ripping the envelope open. “Let’s see what news there is today.”
Moments later she sank onto the porch swing, staring with wide-eyed shock at the telegram.
Carrie stepped forward, alarmed. “Aunt Abby?”
“It’s Matthew…” she whispered.
Carrie snatched the telegram from her hands and began to read. Just then Rose and Moses stepped up on the porch, their expressions alarmed when they saw Aunt Abby’s face.
“Carrie?” Rose asked, sinking down beside Aunt Abby and taking her hand. “What is it?”
Carrie took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “It’s a telegram from Peter,” she said hoarsely, and began to read. “‘Terrible tragedy on the Sultana.’”
“The boat Matthew was on?” Moses asked sharply.
Carrie nodded and continued to read, tears blurring the words on the page. “‘Matthew has survived, but is still hospitalized. I am staying in Memphis until he is released. Will return with him to Richmond.’”
She gasped and put down the telegram.
“That’s all?” Rose asked, her own eyes swimming with tears. “How badly was Matthew hurt? What happened?”
Carrie could only shake her head, her thoughts spinning.
“Peter wrote all he knows,” Aunt Abby said, straightening her shoulders as she fought for control. “He probably wanted to wait until he had more news, but was afraid we would hear about the Sultana before he could notify us that Matthew survived.” Her voice softened. “He’s given us all he could give us.”
Carrie stared out into the bright sunshine. “Didn’t you tell me the Sultana was carrying a load of prisoners released from the Confederate camps?”
“Yes,” Aunt Abby said sadly. She shook her head. “We can make up all kinds of stories, but without facts we have nothing but theories. Matthew is alive,” she said firmly. “And obviously Peter is too. We will focus on that and wait to hear more news.”
“You’re right,” Carrie agreed immediately. Her thoughts flew upstairs to where Robert lay in bed. He was alive, too, but his spirit and soul were dead. His emaciated frame had put on a little weight, but he still looked like a man ravaged by four years of war.
When Rose stepped forward to take her hand, Carrie knew her friend was reading her thoughts and harbored the same fears. Matthew was alive, but what kind of shape would he be in when he got back to them?
“Stop it, girls,” Aunt Abby snapped.
Carrie jolted and swung her gaze to the older woman. She had never heard her speak that way.
“We don’t know anything,” Aunt Abby scolded. “I’m scared, too, but dreaming up worst case scenarios will serve no purpose. Peter would not be talking about bringing Matthew home if he weren’t able to withstand a train trip.” She rose and grasped Carrie’s hands. “He cannot possibly be in Robert’s condition,” she said firmly, her eyes warm with compassion.
Carrie took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. “You’re right,” she responded instantly. “Of course you’re right.” She took a deep breath and allowed hope to replace the despair.
Aunt Abby hugged her close. “Fear is not a bad thing,” she said gently. “It’s only human to be afraid of what could have happened to Matthew, but allowing it to control your thoughts will serve no purpose. You have to let the fear roll through you and push it aside with faith.”
Carrie nodded. She had seen Aunt Abby do that very thing where she was sitting on the swing. “How long did it take you to learn how to do that?” she asked shakily.
Aunt Abby laughed. “Longer than you’ve been alive, but you three are smarter than me, so I believe you’ll conquer it sooner.”
Moses swung down off the porch. “I’m going back into town to see what I can find out. Matthew has introduced me to some of his journalist friends from Philadelphia and Baltimore. I know where they are staying.”
Aunt Abby nodded. “Thank you,” she said gratefully, and then pulled Carrie and Rose down onto the swing. “I believe we’ll go back to enjoying the day,” she said firmly. “And we’ll pray for Matthew,” she added, brushing away a tear.
*****
Jeremy reached for his bowl of steaming soup as he cocked his head and listened intently. “I believe I just heard Moses come up on the porch.”
Carrie, Rose, and Aunt Abby exchanged a long glance as they waited for Moses to join them. They had already filled Jeremy in on the little they knew about the Sultana.
Carrie forced herself to breathe evenly, refusing to let thoughts of fear enter her mind. She had spent the afternoon reading to Robert. He had no idea that his best friend had been injured, and she wasn’t about to let him know. He’d had his fill of death and dying, and had seen far too many men hideously injured. Somehow she managed to keep her voice light and cheerful while she was with him. She felt nothing but relief when he finally slipped off to sleep about an hour before dinner.
May bustled in from the kitchen and laid down another heaping plate of food as Moses entered the dining room. He smiled his gratitude, but it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Carrie tensed, knowing the news was bad. She reached out her hands and grasped Rose’s and Aunt Abby’s. “Tell us what you found out,” she said quietly.
Moses hesitated.
“The truth is always the best,” Aunt Abby said. “I know you want to protect us, but shielding us from the truth will do nothing but ensure we’re not ready to deal with it when we finally discover it.”
Moses nodded and took a deep breath. “The Sultana blew its boilers a couple miles north of Memphis three days ago and then caught fire. The news is all over the North, but chaos here in Richmond has kept it out of the papers.”
“How bad?” Aunt Abby asked.
Moses winced. “They estimate about fifteen hundred dead,” he said flatly.
Everyone at the table gasped and stared at him in disbelief. Dust motes floated through the air as a soft breeze stirred the curtains and parted them to allow a shaft of light to pierce the room.
Jeremy was the first to speak. “That’s impossible!” he exclaimed. “There’s not a steamer on the Mississippi that could handle that many people.”
“You’re right,” Moses agreed heavily. “The fella I talked to said the Sultana was cleared for about four hundred. No one seems to know how the boat ended up with so many.”
“How many survivors?” Carrie asked, desperately trying to hold on to the number that gave hope.
Moses shook his head. “They’re not sure. As far as I can tell, they pulled about seven hundred from the water, but many of them have already died from their burns and injuries.”
“On top of the fact that they were probably sick and malnourished from their months and years in the prison camps,” Carrie said, hot bile rising into her throat as she imagined the scene. She barely bit back a groan as she thought of Matthew.
“Dear God,” Aunt Abby managed. “Matthew was so excited to have the opportunity to accompan
y those men home to their families.”
“Most of them will never make it,” Moses stated, anger flashing in his eyes.
“Over two thousand passengers?” Jeremy repeated, shaking his head. “That could have only happened through…”
“Greed and bribery?” Moses interjected angrily. “It will take some time for the whole story to come out, but that seems to be the consensus among the reporters.”
Rose reached out for her husband’s hand, knowing he needed the comfort. “Did you find out any more about Matthew?”
Moses nodded. “He was not injured in the blast, but he stayed on the boat for a long time helping other passengers get off so they would have a chance for survival.”
“That would be Matthew…” Aunt Abby murmured, her eyes shining with pride.
“When they found him on a log floating down the river about seven hours after the blast, he was holding on to a dead soldier. Evidently it was a soldier he had interviewed. He held on to him all night.” Moses’s voice got thick. “He didn’t know the boy was dead until his rescuers pried him out of his arm.”
No one made an attempt to stop the tears streaming down their faces.
“Matthew was frozen and suffering from hypothermia when they rescued him. The reporter I talked to said he thought he was being released tomorrow.”
“Peter?” Rose asked.
Moses explained how Peter had escaped being on the boat. “He’s been with Matthew since they got him to the hospital. He won’t leave him.”
Carrie smiled. “They’ve been through so much together,” she said tenderly. “I’m glad Matthew isn’t alone.”
Moses gazed around the table. “Matthew is going to be okay,” he said firmly.
“Peter said he was bringing him back to Richmond,” Aunt Abby said gratefully. “We’ll have a chance to care for him.”
Moses nodded. “I imagine that’s all he wants right now.”
“We’ll be ready for him,” Carrie said, her voice trembling with both relief and pain. She was so glad Matthew had survived, but she could only imagine the pain of families eagerly awaiting their soldier’s return from the prison camps. “It’s so unfair,” she whispered. “They were so close to home…”
A deep silence dropped over the table again.
Once more, Jeremy was the first to break the silence. “We thought the end of the war would stop the senseless dying,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I guess it will never stop.”
“No, it will never stop,” Aunt Abby agreed, reaching out to touch his shoulder.
“That’s hopeful,” he muttered.
“It can be,” she replied calmly, her eyes gazing into his. “Once you accept that suffering will never cease, you also have the chance to accept that God will never leave you alone in the suffering. Instead, he empowers you to sit in the midst of the suffering and taste the coming joy.”
Jeremy stared at her. “You sound like my father.”
Aunt Abby smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I understand your father was a remarkable man.”
Jeremy nodded. “He was.”
“It’s rather depressing to know that suffering will never end,” Carrie said slowly.
“Haven’t you already learned that in the last four years?” Aunt Abby asked gently.
Carrie nodded reluctantly. “Yes, but I suppose I hoped it would end with the war.”
Aunt Abby shook her head. “The war didn’t cause the suffering. The suffering was caused by people’s choices made from greed and fear. Unfortunately, that is the human condition.”
“So it never ends?” Rose asked, her eyes flashing in protest.
“The suffering never ends,” Abby responded, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t taste the coming joy.” She gazed around the table. “Nothing lasts forever. The suffering will end and joy will come. And,” she added tenderly, “the joy will end and suffering will return.”
“The circle of life,” Jeremy murmured.
“Yes,” Aunt Abby agreed. “The suffering is never something we look forward to, but if we can hold on to the fact that joy will return, it becomes much easier to bear.”
“I could use some joy about right now,” Carrie said.
“Then choose it,” Aunt Abby said bluntly, her eyes direct, but kind.
“Choose it?”
“Yes. When hard times hit, the best thing you can do is focus on all the things you have to be grateful for. Like all of us here together after four years of war. Like Robert’s still being alive. Like Matthew having survived the explosion. Like Cromwell Plantation not being destroyed in the war.” She paused. “I’m sure you can come up with many more.”
Carrie flushed and lowered her head. “You’re right,” she said remorsefully. “Of course you’re right.” She raised her head and stared at Aunt Abby. “Do you think I will ever learn how to trust God?”
Aunt Abby jumped up to wrap her in a hug. “Of course you will.” She swept her arm across the table. “All of you will. I just happen to have a twenty-five-year head start on you. What’s the use of getting older if some wisdom doesn’t come along with the wrinkles,” she said teasingly.
“Wrinkles?” Carrie snorted. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know!”
“Thank you, but I’m not blind about what I see in the mirror,” Aunt Abby laughed. “The thing is that it doesn’t bother me. I have discovered that the more sand that escapes from my hourglass of life, the more clearly I can see what is important.”
Rose laughed. “My mama used to tell me that getting old and wrinkled was better than the alternative of death.”
“She was right,” Aunt Abby said. “Now, no more sadness. We can feel compassion for the families who are dealing with pain, but we can also rejoice that Matthew and Peter are coming home to us.”
“And on that note,” May announced as the door swung open from where she had obviously been listening, “I gots a hot rhubarb pie just waiting for some hungry people.”
“Rhubarb pie?” Moses exclaimed. “Can I help you carry it in?”
“What? And have your big hands stealing a piece before it ever gets to the table?” May demanded. “You sit right there, boy. I’ll be bringin’ this pie in myself!”
Laughter rang around the table as Moses settled back with a chastised look on his face, his eyes dancing with mischief.
A sound of boots on the porch had everyone turning around.
“Are we expecting anyone?” Jeremy asked.
Carrie shook her head and jumped up. “Perhaps it’s a messenger with a letter from Father.” She pushed back her chair and walked toward the door. “Coming,” she called.
“I certainly hope so. The porch isn’t that grand of a place.”
Carrie jolted to a stop and stared at the door. “Father!” She leaped forward and flung the door open. She fell into his outstretched arms, laughing and crying. “You’re home!”
Thomas hugged her tightly and finally pushed her back far enough so he could stare down into her face. “Carrie,” he murmured. “I missed you so much!”
“Father,” she said, reaching up to stroke his tired face. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you every moment and worried about you so much.” She hesitated. “Are you home for good? Do you have to leave again?”
Thomas shook his head firmly. “I’m not leaving. We received word that President Johnson had put out an award for the top Confederate officials, but the rest of us are clear to return home. I left Danville as soon as I was sure the information was correct.” A brief smile flitted across his face as he gazed around his house. “So, I’m not leaving. Except to go home to the plantation,” he added. The smile faded as dark shadows filled his eyes. “If it’s still there.”
“It’s there!” Carried proclaimed gladly. She answered the question in his eyes. “It’s all still there. There has been no damage.”
Thomas gasped as his eyes lit with gladness. “Are you sure? How can you know this?”
Carrie la
ughed. “It’s quite a long story…” When Thomas laughed in return, Carrie’s heart surged with gladness. She was quite sure it had been a long time since he laughed.
“It’s always a long story,” he said teasingly. He lifted his nose and sniffed. “Do you think May has any of that soup left? I’ve been dreaming about her vegetable soup for the last month.”
May’s shining face appeared around the corner. “I just set a bowl down on the table for you. Welcome home!”
Thomas smiled. “Thank you, May,” he said gratefully.
He looked back down at Carrie as he pulled off his coat. “I thought I heard voices when I walked up on the porch. Is Jeremy here?” he asked hopefully.
Jeremy appeared around the corner. “In the flesh,” he said with a broad grin, stepping forward to shake Thomas’s hand and wrap him in a warm embrace. “Welcome home. You were missed.”
Thomas cleared his throat as he stepped back. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to be home,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“You heard more than Jeremy’s voice,” Carrie said. “We have rather a houseful right now.” She hoped her father wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. “So much has happened in the last month.” She knew the rest were giving her this space to welcome her father home.
“The whole world has turned upside down,” her father said simply. “I can only imagine the stories you have to tell. Let’s go in the dining room so I can meet our houseful and hear your stories. And eat May’s soup,” he added. He paused before he turned. “On one condition, however.”
Carrie smiled up at him, knowing by his relaxed tone that it was something good. “And what would that condition be?”
“That as soon as you introduce me, you go out and see a horse that has been whinnying since we reached the Richmond city limits.”
Tears flowed again as Carrie laughed. “Granite,” she whispered. “I was afraid to ask.”