All Things New (5 page)

“Did you know that Otis is Lizzie’s husband?” Jo asked. Mother looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “And Roselle is Lizzie’s daughter. They have two other children, too.”

“What in the world is wrong with you? As if it isn’t bad enough that you’re working with slaves, now you’ve decided to converse with them, too? Really, Josephine!”

“They aren’t our slaves anymore. They’re people. We shouldn’t treat them like slaves.”

“I believe the hot sun has addled your brain. Go splash some cold water on your face and tidy your hair.” Mother turned and strode away. Jo followed her down the hall and into the foyer.

“But we have to change the way we do things, Mother. Nothing is the same as it used to be.”

“Well, so help me God, I’m going to change everything back.”

Josephine let her mother walk away this time while she remained in the front foyer alone, gazing at the empty holes again—the dusty space where the hall clock had stood, the darker patch of wood on the floor where the rug had been. And if she looked to her right into Daddy’s study, she knew she would see his empty chair.

No, God wasn’t going to help any of them. And it would be impossible to change anything back to the way it had been.

5

A
PRIL
28, 1865

Eugenia didn’t recognize her son at first. The stranger walking up the lane toward her house looked like a beggar, his mismatched clothing no longer resembling a Confederate uniform, his shoes something only a slave would wear. She saw him approaching and guessed him to be a refugee or a vagabond coming to beg or to steal from her. Eugenia groped in her skirt pocket for the pistol she carried everywhere, then went out to the porch to order the man off her property. But the stranger was Daniel.

Before Eugenia could move or speak, he saw her in the doorway and ran the rest of the way up the road toward her, bounding up the front steps to pull Eugenia into his arms. Daniel! Daniel was home! She tried to say his name but couldn’t speak, her throat choked with tears. Daniel’s entire body trembled, and she realized he was sobbing. He had been barely twenty years old when he’d gone off to war, filled with swagger and bravado. “We’ll lick the Yanks in no time, and I’ll be home in time to return to college in the fall.” Instead, five years had passed.

Daniel was Eugenia’s golden boy, blond and handsome and full of life, the jokester in the family, able to make everyone laugh. Now
joy and sorrow overwhelmed her as she held him in her arms. He was so thin, so ragged, so timeworn. But then all of them were.

“Oh, Daniel!” she murmured. “You’re home at last.” He couldn’t stop sobbing, a broken man. She pulled away and reached up to brush his sandy hair off his forehead. “No more tears now,” she said. “No tears. You’re home.”

He seemed taller than before but so much thinner. He had grown a beard and mustache, and they made him look shaggy and unkempt. But the biggest difference was his eyes. Eugenia saw so much sadness there, as if they had seen things he wished he could forget. Daniel had aged much more than five years.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “You fought so hard.”

“The Yanks might have outnumbered us,” he said, drying his eyes on his sleeve, “but they didn’t outfight us.”

“I know. I know.” Eugenia caressed her son’s shoulder as she watched him survey the yard and the fields from the porch steps. “I’m sorry everything is so run-down. We only returned home from Richmond a week ago.” Surely he could see how much had changed since he’d been away, how their lovely plantation had fallen into disrepair, how empty the cotton fields were.

“Did all our slaves run off?” he asked. “We saw hundreds of Negroes wandering on the roads.”

“All but three are gone, I’m afraid. We have one field hand and two house slaves left.”

“That’s not enough to run a plantation.”

“I know. I’m told that some Negroes are living out in the woods between here and the village, though I’m not certain if any of them are ours. Good thing you arrived in daylight. No one feels safe here after dark anymore.”

She heard footsteps thundering down the stairs inside the house, and a moment later Mary and Josephine ran out to greet their brother. Eugenia felt a stab of sorrow as she watched her children embrace one another. Their father and older brother deserved a hero’s homecoming, too, but they would never get it.

“Grab your bag and come inside, Daniel,” Eugenia said, leading
the way. “What you need is a nice long rest and some good hot food to get your strength back.” Although how he could regain his strength on the meager diet they were forced to eat, Eugenia didn’t know. “We’ve been expecting you ever since we heard all of our soldiers had been paroled. I told Lizzie to make sure your room was ready.”

“It’s been a while since I slept in a bed. My friends used to joke that the best thing about getting wounded was having a clean bed to sleep in and a pretty nurse to feed you dinner.” Mary smiled at her brother’s humor, but neither Josephine nor Eugenia did.

“You heard that Harrison Blake lost his leg, didn’t you?” Eugenia asked.

Daniel looked away. “Yeah . . . How is Captain Blake doing?”

“We haven’t been to see him yet, but he’s finally home from the hospital in Richmond. We should pay him a visit and cheer him up.” They were all standing in the foyer at the foot of the stairs, and Eugenia didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t ready to talk about Philip or Samuel. “Well,” she said, exhaling. “You go on up and make yourself at home. And if there’s anything you’d like—anything at all—you just ask.”

“How about a hot bath?” He grinned, and for a moment he was her young, carefree son again. But his smile quickly faded.

“Of course, darling. Would you like to shave, too? I can have Lizzie look for some soap and a razor.”

“Maybe,” he said, stroking his chin, “I don’t know. I’ve worn a beard for so long I might feel naked without it. But tell the slaves to throw these clothes away. They’re probably infested with lice and fleas.”

Eugenia shuddered. She couldn’t imagine all that he had suffered. Daniel gripped the banister to go upstairs, then changed his mind and walked into his father’s study. He let his bag drop to the floor as he gazed all around. “It’s hard to believe Daddy’s really gone,” he said.

Eugenia didn’t reply. She didn’t follow Daniel into the room but stood in the doorway, watching as he took in the details.

“Are you all right, Mother?” he asked after turning to her.

Eugenia nodded. “He would expect us to keep going.”

Daniel crossed the room to open the cabinet where Philip kept his liquor. He wouldn’t find any. “The Yankees took it all,” she said before he could ask. “They took nearly all our rugs, too—or at least that’s what the slaves would have me believe.”

“We have to call them servants now, Mother,” Josephine said from behind her.

Eugenia waved her words away. “I know, I know . . . How can I possibly forget when you keep reminding me all the time?”

Daniel went to his father’s desk. He looked exhausted, but he hesitated, as if reluctant to sit in Philip’s chair. He looked up at Eugenia, his expression that of a small boy who had lost his way. Then, to her horror, he covered his face with his hands and wept. Eugenia turned to shoo her daughters away.

“Josephine. Mary. Go find the slaves and tell them to start heating water for Daniel’s bath. Go! Quickly!” When the girls were gone, Eugenia went to comfort her son. Lord knows how many tears she had shed in this room after hearing the terrible news. But Daniel was a man, and men didn’t cry. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve had to endure,” she soothed as she held him close. “My poor Daniel . . .”

How hard it was to watch her children suffer! Soon, very soon, she would start making everything right for them again, making up for all they had lost. Daniel’s weeping gradually tapered off. Eugenia gently guided her son up the stairs to his room. “You’ll feel better after you’ve rested and bathed and changed into clean clothes,” she told him. “I’m certain of it.”

For the next few days, Daniel slept a great deal. Once or twice Eugenia thought she heard him weeping in the night, but she didn’t go to him or acknowledge that she’d heard. When Daniel was awake, Eugenia watched from a distance as he wandered the house or the plantation grounds, often stopping to stare into space or wipe tears from his eyes. She made up her mind that the best way to help him get back on his feet was to encourage him to be with
his friends. The other planters and their sons were in the same situation that she and Daniel were in, so perhaps he would draw comfort and courage from them.

“You must miss the camaraderie you experienced during the war,” she said one morning at breakfast. “You fought every battle with your friends, and you must have grown very close after so much time.”

“We were together from the very beginning—those of us who are left.”

“Why don’t I tell Otis to harness the carriage for us? I think we should visit Harrison Blake and his mother this morning. Mary and Josephine, you need to come, too.”

“I would prefer to stay home,” Josephine said.

Eugenia’s temper flared before she could stop it. “Why? So you can work in the garden in the hot sun and talk to that wretched slave again?” She paused to regain control. “You need to converse with people who are our social equals, Josephine. Harrison’s mother is one of my dearest friends, and it has been much too long since we’ve visited with her.”

“I was there when Captain Blake lost his leg,” Daniel said, his tone somber. “He and Samuel were right beside each other when the bombs started falling. If I had been twenty feet closer . . .” His voice trailed off, shaky with unshed tears.

Eugenia drew a breath to steady her own voice, aware that her son Samuel had died at his friend Harrison’s side. “You mustn’t think of all the ‘what ifs,’ darling. You’re home now, and that’s all that matters. I’m sure Captain Blake would enjoy visitors. He was in Chimborazo Hospital for such a long time. His mother and fiancée spent months there, taking care of him. I’m certain he’ll be happy to see you.” And maybe Daniel would finally climb out of the doldrums when he realized how much he had to be thankful for—including his life and all of his limbs.

An hour later they were finally on their way, although Eugenia felt as though she was dragging all three of her children there against their wills. When they arrived, a smaller carriage was
already hitched to the rail in front of the house. “They have company,” Josephine said. “We should leave.”

“Nonsense. We can at least say hello.” Eugenia’s driver helped her climb from the carriage, and she was relieved when a Negro servant came to the door to greet them. At least her friend Priscilla still had domestic help. “Are we intruding?” Eugenia asked the servant. “I see the Blakes already have company.”

“It’s just Miz Emma, ma’am. She and Miz Priscilla will be happy to see you.”

Eugenia motioned to her children, who were lagging behind. “Come on now. The carriage belongs to Harrison’s fiancée.”

The servant herded them into the former study, now converted into a main-floor bedroom. Harrison’s father had died a few years before the war, leaving the plantation to his only surviving child. The draperies in the study were drawn shut, making the room seem dreary. Eugenia waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then tried not to reveal her shock when she saw Harrison lying in bed, propped up with pillows. He resembled a corpse, his face as white as the bed sheets he lay on. She couldn’t help noticing the outline of his legs beneath the covers, one stretching full length, the other stopping above his knee.

She moved aside as her children entered the room and was embarrassed to see tears in Daniel’s eyes. Mary and Josephine had quickly looked away from Harrison, unable to disguise their horror. Maybe this visit had been a mistake.

Or maybe Daniel would finally find his strength by helping his former captain. Maybe her daughters would stop behaving like timid mice and learn how to handle themselves with poise and grace. Bashful girls seldom attracted the best husbands, nor did gloomy ones.

“Hello, Harrison,” Eugenia began. “We were so happy to hear that you were home and so we decided to pay you a visit.” She turned to his mother and fiancée. “Priscilla, Emma . . . you must be thrilled to have him home. We know how glad we are to have our Daniel back.” She continued the conversation for several minutes,
doing most of the talking and getting mere grunts from Harrison in return. His mother and fiancée seemed unusually subdued, as well. Eugenia had the feeling that her visit had interrupted something dramatic or emotional.

“Well, come on, ladies,” Eugenia finally said. “Why don’t we go into the parlor to chat and let our two men catch up, shall we?”

When they were all seated in the front room, Eugenia noticed that Harrison’s fiancée was close to tears. “It must be very difficult to see the man you love so ill,” Eugenia said, resting her hand on Emma’s in sympathy. “We must pray that he’ll regain his full strength.”

“It’s not his health that worries me, Mrs. Weatherly. Harrison is in such low spirits and I . . . I don’t know how to cheer him.” She retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes.

“Daniel is dispirited, too. It’s only natural, considering everything they’ve seen and suffered. Imagine losing the war after fighting so hard and paying such an enormous price.”

“Harrison says terrible things to me, hurtful things. It’s as if he’s deliberately trying to drive me away,” Emma said.

“I don’t know what has gotten into my son to talk the way he does,” Priscilla added. She looked fragile and faded, like a flower that has been dried and pressed flat between the pages of a heavy book. Her eyes were as pain-filled as her son’s.

“It’s his illness speaking,” Eugenia said. “People can’t be held accountable for what they say when they aren’t well.” Her own son barely spoke at all, and she wondered which was worse, to have a child who was sullen and withdrawn like Daniel, or one who spewed wounding words like Harrison.

“Listen, Emma,” Priscilla said. “I meant what I said earlier. If you’re having second thoughts about the engagement, no one in the world would blame you for breaking it. Least of all me.”

“But I love him, Mrs. Blake. He wrote such beautiful letters to me, saying how much he loved me and that he looked forward to starting our new life together after the war. I saved all of them, and I read them over and over again. I was so afraid I’d never see him again, and now . . .”