A Promise for Tomorrow (34 page)

Virginia sneered. “Oh please, spare me your motherly platitudes. I have no such feelings for Hampton Cabot’s children. I might have once, but those feelings are dead.”

“But, if nothing else, your children need you, Virginia. Especially if what you’ve said about Hampton is true.”

“Oh, it’s true all right,” Virginia admitted. “And perhaps that is the best reason for distancing myself from them.” Just then their mother entered the room, but it didn’t stop Virginia from continuing. “In the beginning I loved them, or at least I wanted to. But Hampton killed all my love.”

“Virginia, you shouldn’t take on so,” Margaret said soothingly. “Why don’t you rest for now? We can come back later.”

“No! Hear me out,” Virginia said, struggling to sit up. “No one will listen to me, and soon it will be too late.”

“All right,” Carolina replied before her mother could speak. “Tell us what it is you wish us to know so that we might help you.”

“I’m beyond help. Hampton made sure of that. And he used our children to do so. Because every time he sought to hurt me, he did so through them. He would beat them for no good reason, deprive them of something they longed for or loved, and always, always, in order to get back at me.”

“What are you saying, Virginia?” Margaret asked. Carolina glanced at her mother, afraid that Virginia’s words might be too much for her. But Margaret appeared quite stoic.

Virginia shook her head with futility. “It’s too late. My only hope is to die in childbirth.”

“Virginia!” Margaret’s face turned pale at her daughter’s suggestion. “You simply mustn’t say such things.”

“But it is the truth. Doesn’t anyone want the truth? For years you chided me not to exaggerate and lie, but now you rebuff me for the truth? Please make up your mind.”

“Of course I want the truth from you, but I don’t want you to feel this way,” Margaret said, taking a seat on the bed opposite Carolina. She turned an expression of heartfelt despair on her younger daughter before continuing. “I only wish you would have spoken sooner. Your father did not know of these things, did he?”

“Of course not. Can you imagine my shame should anyone know? Now . . . I don’t care anymore.”

“Virginia, it’s not too late. Your father will speak to Hampton—”

“No, Mother! He mustn’t do that. Hampton will just take it out on the children or me. He wouldn’t care. Besides, he would just as soon see us all destroyed.”

“What are you saying?” Carolina feared her sister might be delirious.

“Hampton would see us all destroyed,” Virginia repeated. “He wants Oakbridge, and he will do whatever he must in order to have it. He grows livid when Father speaks of selling or dividing it among us. He rants and rages, until I think I might go mad, when Father speaks of freeing the slaves.” She reached out to touch her mother’s sleeve. “He is most determined to have this place for himself. It’s the only reason he wanted Carolina to marry him. He thought I was off limits, and so he merely moved on to another of the Adams daughters. He would have gone after Georgia, no doubt, had Carolina and I both rebuffed him.”

“But I hardly understand,” Margaret said with a shake of her head. “He has wealth and money, and certainly he lacks for no good thing.”

“But he doesn’t want good things,” Virginia said hatefully. “He wants things dark and evil. Things one would never speak of in good company. He does all manner of corrupt deeds and then leaves others to pay the debt. Ask the slave girls if you don’t believe me. Mine are not the only Cabot children at Oakbridge.” Virginia grimaced and threw herself back against the pillows. “You just don’t know what he’s capable of, but I do. He beats me, threatens to kill me, and then turns around to taunt me if I dare beg for mercy. Don’t you see? I can’t love my children or he’ll do worse to them. At least now that he thinks I have no interest in them, he leaves them alone.”

“Virginia, you mustn’t allow Hampton to put a wedge between you and your own children. I’ll find a way to deal with him,” Margaret promised.

Virginia laughed bitterly. “I’m telling you, Mother, nothing can be done about it.”

“We shall see,” Margaret said, an undercurrent of anger in her tone.

“Of course something can be done,” Carolina said with more faith than she felt. “You’ll see. If we work together, we can come up with something.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Virginia said, her face drained of emotion, yet Carolina thought she detected just a hint of hopefulness in her sister’s voice.

“Then count on it,” Carolina said. “I for one will not rest until the matter is resolved.”

“But please, Virginia,” implored Margaret, “promise me one thing.”

“What?” Virginia asked, shaking her head. “What could I possibly promise that would make any difference?”

“Promise that you won’t give up on God. Promise me that you will at least try to believe He is in control.” Margaret leaned forward to stroke her daughter’s hair. “You have been sorely abused, but the time for that has come to an end.”

Carolina heard the determination in her mother’s tone and opened her mouth to add her agreement when Virginia lurched forward, crying out in pain.

“The baby,” she said, gasping for air. “Oh, help me, Mother. Help me!”

If anyone would have noticed the gathering of the children at play, they might have commented on how amicably they worked together. The huddle of figures quietly sharing their stories and games brought no sounds of reproof from their parents. Only Victoria was absent from the group, as she had been drawn away to assist her mother and grandmother with her aunt’s lengthy labor. Joseph and Hampton paid little heed to the children. Since no one was crying out about the injustice of some loss or seeking comfort because of some wound, the men were perfectly content to leave the children to themselves.

And this was just as Thora and Levinia Cabot preferred it.

“You’d better not tell anybody about this,” Thora said menacingly to Jordana. “You may be just a baby, but I’ll whup you good.”

“I’m not a baby,” Jordana protested.

“Hush,” Brenton told her quickly. He had put a protective arm around her shoulder, but Jordana would have no part of it.

“I’ll make something bad happen to you,” Thora threatened, “if you don’t do what I say.”

“But I don’t know how to get into the cupboard and find the cookies,” Brenton said softly. “You know I don’t live here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Levinia countered. “Everybody knows how to look for things.”

“But it isn’t right to steal,” Brenton said solemnly.

“You get those cookies or I’ll make you pay,” Thora commanded. “Nate can help you.”

“I don’t want to,” Nate replied.

Thora kicked him soundly, but in a way that was unobservable by the adults at the far side of the room. “Don’t you cry, either, Nate. You’re just a big baby.”

“If we get caught, we’ll be spanked.”

“Too bad,” Levinia said and pinched her brother’s neck, just to add emphasis.

“Ow!” Nate exclaimed, causing the adults to glance over their way.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Levinia said, leaning over to display a kiss on Nate’s forehead.

“They are so good together these days,” Joseph commented to Hampton.

“Well, they ought to be. The fear of the rod should bring about more than an occasional act of good behavior.”

With that much said, the men moved on to other topics, and Levinia threw Nate and Brenton a menacing look. “See? Nobody will think we’re bad.” She smiled, and Thora mimicked the action and nodded.

31
The Phoenix

After several hours of anguish and suffering, Virginia was delivered of a stillborn daughter. As the doctor examined Virginia, who was extremely weak and sick with fever, he feared for her recovery.

“I am afraid these things are never easy to predict,” the doctor later told the gathering of family, “but there is a good possibility she will not survive this ordeal.”

Joseph watched carefully for Margaret’s expression. Everyone in the household seemed as much concerned with Margaret’s ability to cope as with the possibility that Virginia might die.

“Is there nothing more to be done?” Margaret asked.

“I wish I knew of something,” the doctor answered. “Try to keep the fever down, see to it that she gets some sort of nourishment, and pray. That’s all I can suggest.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Hampton said before anyone else could question the man further. “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine.” He took hold of the doctor’s arm and led him to the front door, much to Joseph’s astonishment. Upon returning, Hampton simply shrugged. “She didn’t want the baby anyway.”

“Hampton, your wife lies desperately ill upstairs, and that is all you have to say?” A fire burned in the depths of Joseph’s soul. How could this man act so callous and indifferent when another human being, his own wife, lay perishing?

Hampton looked hard at both Joseph and Margaret, then shook his head. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Of course you don’t,” Margaret responded, obviously trying to be conciliatory. “These are difficult times, but arrangements must still be made. I have already spoken to Virginia, and she seems not to have any idea what to call the child. I thought perhaps you would suggest a name for your daughter.”

“The baby is dead. There is no need to assign her a name,” Hampton said.

“Everyone deserves a name,” Joseph interjected. “There will be a funeral, and there will be a name for my granddaughter.” He did not bother to mask his hostility toward his son-in-law. Since Margaret had spoken to him of Virginia’s confession regarding Hampton, Joseph had barely been able to control his wrath toward the man, only restraining himself because of the sudden rush of tragic events. He thought to respect Hampton’s grief before confronting him. Now, however, Joseph decided to speak to him immediately after he’d had a chance to visit his daughter.

“Do as you like, then,” Hampton replied. “I have work to do.” He slammed the door hard behind him as he exited the parlor.

“I am so sorry, my dear.” Joseph embraced Margaret tenderly, almost as much for himself as for her. The pain of recent events was only now beginning to settle on his heart.

“We mustn’t give ourselves over to despair,” Margaret replied. She clung to him for a moment, then pulled away. “I must see to Virginia.”

“Of course, but may I see her, as well?”

Margaret’s compassionate gaze fell upon him. “Come.” She extended her hand, and together they climbed the stairs to the second-floor bedrooms.

Virginia lay perfectly still, almost deathly still. There was little evidence, except for her very shallow breathing and the flush of fever, to suggest that she was still among the living. Joseph sat in the chair beside her bed and reached out to take hold of her hand. Even then, Virginia did not stir. It was as if she had already made a choice between living and dying.

Joseph watched as Margaret ministered to her stillborn granddaughter. He wondered if this was how it had been the night Penny and Maryland had fallen ill with yellow fever. He had been away in Washington, and heavy rains had prevented his immediate return. When the messenger rode in to share the sad tidings that Maryland had died, and that Penny lay close to following her sister, Joseph had known an irreparable tear in his heart. He had always considered himself quite blessed. Of the nine children his wife had given him, only two had died in infancy. This, when all around him, friends and neighbors were constantly mourning the loss of their young. With the deaths of his two young daughters, Joseph knew more misery than he could put into words.

Even if he could have found words for his sorrow, there was Margaret and her inability to cope with the pain. Her temporary insanity had cost him much. And now, as he sat beside the bed of another ill child and thought of the possibility of her death, tears rose in his eyes. He couldn’t abide that Virginia should die. Not now, not when her children were so young and in need of her. Not now, when Margaret had just regained her senses and could finally return to life with him.

A pang of guilt gave him cause for consideration. Did he fear more for Virginia’s passing or for the idea that such a thing might well cause Margaret to slip back into her insanity? He looked at the child he’d so long ago welcomed into the world. Virginia had come after the deaths of their infant sons Hampshire and Tennessee.

The birth of Virginia had given Margaret a strength to endure and a focus that pulled her out of the depression following the loss of her babies. Joseph had prayed they might never have to know such pain again. But of course that was an irrational prayer. Pain might well come again, but he must keep his strength fixed in God.

Then Margaret began a task that made Joseph’s chest tighten and his breath catch in his throat. With the utmost tenderness and care, she was washing the dead infant. He fought within himself to keep from jumping up from the chair to take the task away from his wife and lead her from the room. He couldn’t bear to lose her again. Not now. Not when she’d shared so little time with him.

As if sensing his concern, Margaret turned to meet his gaze. “I shall call her Martha,” she told him. “Martha Cabot.”

Joseph nodded, unable to speak. He watched her gently dry the baby and wrap her securely in a blanket. It was as if nothing at all was amiss. Had she already gone over the edge? Did she think the baby still lived?

“Ah, my dear,” Joseph said, getting up rather uncomfortably. How could he approach the matter without risking further injury to his wife’s delicate senses? “You needn’t care for the child.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Adams. This baby may have never drawn breath, but she deserves a loving hand to prepare her for burial.”

He heaved a sigh of relief and sat back down. She knew. She knew the child was dead. Her mind had not slipped away. And then, as though watching that mystical phoenix rise from its own ashes, Joseph suddenly knew that she would never again slip away from him. She had once been defeated, dissolved, and destroyed, but she had arisen to find herself stronger than ever.

Now even as he watched her dress the tiny infant girl, Joseph felt a growing admiration for his wife. She would be his mainstay. She would give him comfort and support, and should Virginia die, it would be Margaret who would pull the family together and find a way to bring them solace. His heart soared and his spirits were renewed. It was as if God had given him a living proof of His goodness. He had seen the doubts and worries of Joseph’s heart and mind and had offered assurance—when assurance was most needed.