by Ginny Dye
Jeremy hesitated and looked around the table. “The military came through and arrested hundreds of blacks for vagrancy. They took them outside the city limits and told them to not come back.”
“What?” Miles exclaimed. “They’s can’t do that to free men!”
Jeremy frowned. “I’m afraid laws are being made up as they go,” he admitted. “The North is convinced the only way to revive the Southern economy is to rebuild agriculture. They’re also convinced that reviving the economy is the only way to keep everyone down here from starving, and also make their job easier.”
“That seems ‘bout right,” Miles agreed. “Mr. Cromwell talked about how bad the economy is. You worked with all that money stuff, Mr. Jeremy. Don’t you think they be right?”
Jeremy sighed. “I agree with the fact that the Southern economy needs to be rebuilt…”
“But they’s wantin’ to force all the freed slaves back out to de plantations,” Annie said flatly.
Jeremy exchanged a long look with Moses. “You did say she was smarter than you,” he murmured. He turned to Annie. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed reluctantly. “That’s their plan. The army is issuing stringent orders to stop the influx of freed slaves into the cities.” He took a deep breath. “I learned today that the army is banning any more freed slaves from coming into Richmond.”
“Anybody?” May gasped.
Jeremy shrugged. “The order says anyone seeking employment, family members, or protection against violence.”
Silence fell over the table.
“I reckon that be everybody,” Miles growled. “They can do dat, Mr. Jeremy? What about us bein’ free?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Everything is a mess right now, Miles. I don’t think what they’re doing is right, but I’m not sure what I would advise them to do differently. Richmond can’t support the number of people here now. Letting more in will only make it worse for those who are already here — both white and black.”
“But where are the free people gonna work?” May asked. “How they gonna survive now?”
Jeremy spoke carefully. “They are trying to get the freed slaves to go back to work on the plantations.”
“You mean dey gonna make ‘em,” Sadie said flatly. “Just like dey still be slaves.”
Moses opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. His sister was speaking the truth.
“They’ll have to be paid,” Jeremy said, spreading out his hands. “There are no easy answers,” he admitted. “The North wanted the slaves to be free, but they have no real idea how to help them live as free people. Before the war started there were over two million slaves in the South. The Southern economy has been destroyed by the war, and now there are two million more people who need to have jobs and survive.”
Annie nodded. “It’s a problem, sho ‘nuff,” she agreed. “I reckon there be a bunch of us dat don’t want to go back and work on another plantation ‘cause it be just like slavery again. In fact, I ‘magine there be a bunch that just don’t want to work at all. Dey’s just want to be taken care of now.”
Jeremy stared at her with admiration. “Yes, ma’am, that seems to be the crux of it.”
“What the plantation owners gonna do to make it right?” she demanded. “If dey be wantin’ us to come back to work, what dey gonna do to make it right?”
Jeremy hesitated. “The problem is that so many of the plantation owners lost everything in the war,” he admitted. “They still have their land, but they have no money.”
“So’s dey want all their old slaves to come back and work for nothin’?” Sadie asked. “How dat be any diff’nt from slavery?”
Moses jumped into the conversation. “Thomas has the same problem. We’ve worked out a plan where he will pay us what he can, and then we’ll get a percentage of the crop when it comes in.”
Annie nodded. “That sounds like it might work with someone like Mr. Cromwell, but what about owners that don’t tell the truth about what dey make? What’s to keep them from lyin’ and not payin’ when the season is done?”
Jeremy smiled tightly. “You do have a way of getting to the core of an issue,” he replied. “We quite simply don’t have the answers to all those questions yet.”
“Ain’t gonna be fun findin’ them,” Annie said flatly. “Gonna be a lot of anger and wrong thin’s done on both sides.”
Moses stared at her, knowing she was right. “At least you and Sadie will be safe out on the plantation,” he said gratefully, confident he was speaking the truth.
His mama gazed at him, her eyes knowing. “Trouble done have a way of findin’ even the ones who do the right thing,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I believe it be the best place for now.”
Moses took a deep breath, suddenly very glad they were going to be leaving the city in the morning. He looked at both May and Miles.
“Don’t you be worryin’ none about us,” Miles said reassuringly. “We knows where to stay out of, and you won’t find us on the streets after dark.”
Jeremy frowned. “I’m not sure that will be good enough,” he muttered.
“We’re staying right here,” May said firmly. “This been our home all through the war. They’s gonna round up the ones who are new, but they ain’t gonna bother with us. We’re going to stay right here takin’ care of Mr. Cromwell’s house. If things change, we’ll figure it out.” She smiled. “That’s part of being free, Moses. Freedom don’t mean things are going to be easy. It just means we get to make our own decisions. This be the first time I’ve gotten to make my own decisions. This is the decision I’m making. I’ll live with what happens.”
Moses nodded. “You’re right,” he said slowly, the truth of her words sinking in. “We all have to live with the consequences of our actions.”
Jeremy nodded. “My father used to tell me that the life I’m living right now is the direct result of every decision I’ve ever made.” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t like that very much, especially when I wasn’t happy with the life I was living, but I knew he was right.” He gazed at all of them. “All of you have had the right to make your own decisions taken away. Your lives were a result of other people’s decisions. It won’t always be easy, but May is right.”
“And you be only part right,” Annie said gently. “Slavery took away our right to make certain decisions, but it didn’t get to take how we feel or how we think. That be up to us eber time,” she said firmly.
Moses thought about Rose’s mama. “Sarah used to say that people could make her live like a slave, but they couldn’t make her a slave inside, and they couldn’t make her hate.”
Annie nodded. “She be right. Ain’t nobody can control what be inside of you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Janie stepped outside into the warm sunshine, trying to find pleasure in the soft rays filtering down through the mighty arms of the oak tree shading their back porch. She listened carefully to the songs sung by cardinals and the grating calls of the blue jays, but they had lost their ability to make her smile. She gazed up as squirrels leaped from one limb to the next and her attention was caught by a pair of young raccoons staring down at her, but she found no joy. She had almost gotten used to the ever-present unhappiness, but the numbness slowly spreading through her was causing her alarm. Some part of her told her she should care about something, but she just couldn’t seem to identify what that might be.
“Janie!”
She sighed, carefully reconstructing her calm mask, and stepped back into the house. “Yes, Clifford?”
Clifford glared at her, lifting his eyebrows as he took in her slightly disheveled appearance. “Are you ill?” he asked somewhat contemptuously.
Janie shook her head silently. She hadn’t found the energy to care about how she looked that morning.
“I certainly hope you will not embarrass me in front of my friends tonight by appearing like that,” he said grimly.
Again Janie shook her head, not bothering to speak. Clifford would fin
d fault with whatever came out of her mouth, so she simply spoke less and less. What was the point?
“There is something we must discuss,” Clifford said sharply.
Janie gazed at him, waiting for his latest proclamation. She could tell by the angry glint in his eyes that he was displeased with her again.
Clifford reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a packet of letters.
Janie stiffened, but she held her tongue.
“I thought I told you there was to be no communication with Carrie Borden,” he snapped. He didn’t bother to wait for a reply. He seemed to know she had nothing left in her to fight him with. He managed a tight smile. “Did you really think I didn’t know you were trying to send her letters?”
Janie stared at the floor, her heart racing. Clifford must be holding every letter she had tried to send Carrie since they arrived. Why had he waited until now to inform her? She tried to find anger for their housekeeper, but she knew Wanda must be as frightened of Clifford as she was. She could feel nothing but compassion for the tiny black woman who came most days to help her keep the house to Clifford’s exacting standards.
“Especially now, Carrie Borden can do nothing but hurt us,” Clifford said contemptuously. He pulled himself up and lifted his head even higher than the arrogant position he always seemed to maintain. “I have been asked to take a leading role in the Democratic Party here in Raleigh,” he announced. “It would do nothing but harm my chances if the party were to know my wife is a nigger lover who has friends like Carrie.”
Janie supposed she should say something, but the black cloud of depression weighing her down also held her tongue. All she could do was feel a longing for Carrie and try to block the images of their years of working and laughing together from her mind. The only bright spot she could find was the understanding of why Carrie had never responded to her letters. She was sure Clifford had another packet of letters Carrie had sent.
Clifford stared at her for a long moment, his anger growing. “You have nothing to say? After all I do for you?”
Janie just looked at him, simply unable to formulate a response, though some part of her knew her silence was only making things worse. She bit back a groan and focused on keeping her hands from trembling.
Clifford cursed and took a step toward her. He whirled away and slammed his fist on the kitchen counter. “What good are you as a wife?” he growled. “I thought losing an arm would be the worst thing that could happen to me, but having to put up with a brainless whit for a wife is far worse.”
When Janie remained silent, he turned to leave. “I will be back with very important men after work,” he said tersely. “Do something with yourself by then, or I will be quite unhappy.” With those words, he marched out, slamming the front door as he departed.
Janie remained rooted in the kitchen, wondering what else he could do to show his unhappiness. He had already sucked every bit of life from her with his bitter tirades and humiliation. Embarrassed by the nightmares he still had at night, he had long ago banished her from his bedroom, but she could still hear the moans coming from his room at night. She knew she should feel nothing but compassion, but there was a part of her that took pleasure in his miserable nights, because in some small way it made up for her ongoing miserable days.
When she had any energy at all, her thoughts focused on just why Clifford had wanted to marry her — why he had brought her to Raleigh. The end of the war had either radically changed him, or simply released the monster he had been before the war. She may never know the truth, but it didn’t really matter. The results were the same. Her life had become one long nightmare that never ended.
She wondered sometimes why her family never came to call, or why they never inquired as to why she never came to visit. She could only imagine Clifford had some kind of hold over them, just as he seemed to have over so many men in Raleigh who treated him with kid gloves, obviously afraid of him.
******
Janie was still standing in the kitchen, in the exact same spot, when Wanda came bustling in thirty minutes later.
Wanda took one look at her and clucked sympathetically. “Mrs. Saunders! What you be standing here in the kitchen for?” She put a hand on her arm and looked up into her face. “You be sick, Mrs. Saunders?”
Janie shook her head. “No,” she said faintly, finding some degree of pleasure in the fact that her voice still worked. “I won’t send any more letters through you,” she said softly.
Wanda tightened her lips, sorrow shining from her eyes. “I be real sorry. I tried to send dem letters.”
Janie felt a stirring of compassion. “It’s okay,” she said more firmly. “I should have known Mr. Saunders wouldn’t let them be mailed.”
“That Carrie Borden be a good friend of yours?”
Janie nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “A very good friend,” she said quietly. “She is the most remarkable, loving woman I have ever known.”
Wanda gazed at her. “I know it ain’t my place to be askin’, so it be okay if you don’t want to be telling, but why Mr. Saunders not want you to write her?”
Janie started to remain silent, but a flickering flame of defiance that had somehow not been stamped out flared in her. “Carrie Borden is a threat to his politics because she firmly believes in the equality of blacks and is doing everything she can to make sure that happens. We worked together all through the war to help make that a reality.”
“Do tell…” Wanda responded, her eyes big as saucers. “But…?”
Janie decided to answer the question that remained unspoken. “But why did I marry Mr. Saunders?” she asked, her laugh a bitter bark. “I ask myself that every day. He wasn’t like this when I married him, Wanda.”
Suddenly she was desperate to talk to someone. The seclusion Clifford had forced on her since arriving in Raleigh was close to destroying her, but somewhere deep from within the recesses of her heart, she heard a voice saying she was making choices. She was allowing Clifford to destroy her. What if she simply made another choice? If she refused to let him destroy her? One of the last things Carrie said to her in Richmond rose up in her mind. I can’t expect anyone else to have respect for me if I don’t have it for myself first…
“I see…” Wanda murmured.
Janie’s laugh was real this time. She took Wanda’s arm and led her to a chair by the table. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I know you’re in a terrible position, but I want you to know it stops today. You’re only here to be our housekeeper. I’ll not ask you do anything I can’t do myself.”
Wanda gazed at her, her dark eyes soft with sympathy and understanding. “You’re a fine woman, Mrs. Saunders. Don’t let nobody take that from you.”
Janie nodded. “He came close,” she admitted.
Wanda hesitated. “What you gonna do?”
Jamie opened her mouth, but there was nothing in her brain to create words. “I have no idea,” she admitted, but for the first time she saw more than a black hole, and her lungs were free to breathe again. “But I will,” she said confidently. “I’ve got to be smart about it.” Her brain raced as she thought through options.
Wanda reached forward and laid her ebony hand over hers.
Janie stared at it, realizing it was the first human contact she had felt since leaving Richmond. She put her other hand over Wanda’s. “Thank you. You’ve made me remember I’m not alone, and I’m not helpless.”
******
Janie was appropriately attired when Clifford arrived home that night in the company of six other men. He glanced at her briefly before he headed for his study. She appeared with drinks and hors d' oeuvres moments later. She smiled around at the men, hiding her flash of satisfaction when she saw the pleased look on Clifford’s face and then left, being sure not to pull the door all the way closed behind her.
When she stepped into hiding just one door down in the darkened guest room, she held her breath, hoping Clifford wouldn’t close the door. She took a deep breath when
the rumble of men’s voice continued, their words floating clearly to her position. Janie didn’t know what she expected to learn, but she was quite sure any future plans would require as much information as possible.
“President Davis has been moved,” one man commented.
Janie frowned. Moved? What had happened to the Confederate president? She had wondered what the Union response would be to the man who led the rebellion.
“It’s been almost three weeks since they captured him down in Georgia,” another said. “I guess they were trying to figure out what to do with him.”
“I heard he’s at Fortress Monroe.”
“Yes,” Clifford responded, his strong voice rising easily above the rest. “My understanding is that they have shackled him with leg irons and he is allowed no visitors.”
Janie had not supported the war, but she felt sympathy for the Confederate president and his family. She wondered how they had caught him.
“It was all over for Davis when President Johnson put a hundred thousand dollar reward on his head. It was just a matter of time. I heard he was going to hide out down on one of the Florida Keys.”
“He didn’t make it,” Clifford said casually.
“You don’t sound bothered by our venerable leader being in custody,” one of the men observed.
“Why should I?” Clifford asked. “I hated Lincoln, but he was a much better leader and politician than Davis was. If the roles had been reversed, I think we would have won the war. As it is, we have to face the consequences of defeat.”
Janie could hear him begin to pace. Only Clifford had that strong, determined tread. She could envision him striding back and forth in front of the brick fireplace.
“We have been left a mess here in North Carolina,” he began. “Thousands of men who once held positions of power, authority, and influence are now destitute. Their plantations have been destroyed, or their businesses have failed because of the economy. Worthless currency has caused record numbers of foreclosures,” he said bluntly.