Carried Forward By Hope
Read Carried Forward By Hope Online
Authors: Ginny Dye
Carried
Forward
By Hope
April – December 1865
Book # 6 in The Bregdan Chronicles
Sequel to The Last, Long Night
Ginny Dye
Carried Forward By Hope
Copyright
2014 by Ginny Dye
Published by
A Voice In The World Publishing
Bellingham, WA 98229
ISBN
#
978-1499357530
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the Publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
For Bogey – my four-legged
best buddy and the
joy of my life!
He lays beside me every
day while I write. Surely he deserves to have a book dedicated to him!
My great hope is that
Carried Forward By Hope
will both entertain and challenge you. I hope you will learn as much as I did during the months of research it took to write this book. No one was more surprised than me when it ended up portraying just the last eight months of 1865 – instead of a whole year like the other ones have.
When I ended the Civil War in
The Last, Long Night
, I knew virtually nothing about the first year of Reconstruction. I wasn’t even sure it could carry an entire book. I was shocked and mesmerized by all I learned. When I got to December, and I already had more than 600 pages, I knew I needed to close the door on 1865 and start fresh in 1866 with the next volume of
The Bregdan Chronicles
!
Though I now live in the Pacific Northwest, I grew up in the South and lived for eleven years in Richmond, VA. I spent countless hours exploring the plantations that still line the banks of the James River and became fascinated by the history.
But you know, it’s not the events that fascinate me so much – it’s the people. That’s all history is, you know. History is the story of people’s lives. History reflects the consequences of their choice and actions – both good and bad. History is what has given you the world you live in today – both good and bad.
This truth is why I named this series The Bregdan Chronicles. Bregdan is a Gaelic term for weaving: Braiding. Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad. That is the
Bregdan Principle
…
Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad.
My great hope as you read this book, and all that will follow, is that you will acknowledge the power you have, every day, to change the world around you by your decisions and actions. Then I will know the research and writing were all worthwhile.
Oh, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it and learn to love the characters as much as I do!
I’m already being asked how many books will be in this series. I guess that depends on how long I live! My intention is to release two or three books a year, each covering one year of history – continuing to weave the lives of my characters into the times they lived. I hate to end a good book as much as anyone – always feeling so sad that I have to leave the characters. You shouldn’t have to be sad for a long time!
You are now reading the sixth book - # 7 (
Glimmers of Change
) will be released in the Fall of 2014. If you like what you read, you’ll want to make sure you’re on our mailing list at
www.BregdanChronicles.net
. I’ll let you know each time a new one comes out so that you can take advantage of all my fun launch events!
Sincerely,
Ginny Dye
April 15, 1865
Carrie Borden fought to control the shudder that rippled through her body when she stepped out onto the porch. The polished boards gleamed in the early morning light filtered by the looming magnolia tree, and a soft fragrance from the milky white blooms perfumed the air. Cardinals offered a splash of brilliant red, but they couldn’t distract from the starkness that permeated the still, somber air.
Abigail Livingston and Rose Samuels moved out onto the porch beside her. Carrie reached down to grab hold of their hands as they stared down at Richmond’s charred remains, brushing absently at the long, ebony waves she had not thought to put up in a bun. A gentle breeze tossed soft strands around her face as her bright green eyes clouded with tears. “Can you feel it?” she whispered, somehow not able to make her voice sound normal. On a day like today, surely it was necessary to speak differently.
Aunt Abby nodded her head as she gripped Carrie’s hand more tightly. “I can feel it,” she replied heavily, her soft, gray eyes misting as she took deep breaths.
“There is trouble in the air,” Carrie said, her voice still a strained whisper. “What is going to happen?”
Rose stepped forward to gaze down the dusty road, aware that most of the people stepping out of their houses had no idea what had happened. “Who will tell them?” she asked quietly. Her black eyes, usually snapping with life, were heavy with sorrow. “He was a hero to my people. He gave us our freedom.” Her voice trailed off as the tears flooding her eyes escaped to create rivulets down her glowing ebony skin. “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she groaned.
Matthew Justin and Peter Wilcher walked out to join them.
Aunt Abby turned to Matthew. “What is going to happen now?” she asked. “I realize you just discovered the news yourself, but as a journalist do you have a feel for what the ramifications will be here in Richmond?”
Matthew ran his hand through his thick red hair, his blue eyes dark with concern. “I wish I knew,” he said somewhat helplessly. “I still can’t believe President Lincoln is dead…”
“Assassinated by a southerner,” Carrie added, still not able to believe any of it was true. “Dead…President Lincoln is dead.” She turned and stared into Matthew’s eyes. “What’s going to happen to our country now?”
“There’s not a person alive who knows the answer to that question,” Peter replied, his dark brown hair tousled as he leaned his tall, muscular body over the railing to peer down the road. “Matthew and I will head down into the city to get some answers, but I truly believe it would be best if all of you stay here until we can get a feel for what is going to happen,” he said gravely. His dark eyes revealed what his words did not.
Matthew nodded his head in agreement. “I do believe my fellow journalist is being wise,” he admitted. “I suspect the Union forces are all aware now of what happened. In the midst of all the pain there is going to be a lot of anger…”
“And they’re going to look for a way to vent that anger,” Aunt Abby finished in a flat voice.
Matthew didn’t make an effort to correct her or alleviate her concerns. Instead, he reached down to squeeze her hand warmly. “We’ll go into town soon and bring back news as quickly as we can,” he promised.
Carrie shuddered again. “Is there to be no end to the trouble?” she cried, her voice rising to full strength as stark reality settled into her mind. “Four years of horrid war have just ended. How will we find our way back without President Lincoln? How will our country heal all the terrible things that have happened?” Despair dripped from her words as tears clogged her throat.
Aunt Abby wrapped a comforting arm around her waist. “We will find a way,” she said firmly. Her voice was both determined and tremulous. “We will be carried forward by hope.”
“
Carried forward by hope
…” Carrie whispered, trying to hold on to the words Aunt Abby had first uttered into the stunned pain they all felt when Matthew brought the news of Lincoln’s assassination. The power of Aunt Abby’s simple statement slowly filtered through her pain once more. Her tears dried as she straightened her shoulders. “Yes,” she said more firmly. “We will indeed be carried forward by hope. We will survive this darkness just as we have survived the darkness of the last four years.”
Rose moved forward to let Aunt Abby embrace her with her free arm. “The future isn’t going to look like what we thought, but the future is still going to come. We have no choice but to continue to move forward. We have no choice but to find our way. President Lincoln gave us so much. Now it’s up to us to continue forward.”
“And so we will,” Aunt Abby whispered, her voice thick with love as she looked around the porch. “All of you young people represent the best of what both the North and the South have to offer. All of you have found a way to choose love in the midst of incredible violence and hatred. I have to believe there are others who will step up to bring healing to a damaged land — a divided country.”
“So many questions,” Carrie murmured. “So many things to learn about what we can expect to happen now that President Lincoln is dead.” Her forehead crinkled in thought. “I know absolutely nothing about Vice President Johnson.”
“
President
Johnson,” Rose interjected, disbelief still ripe in her voice.
“I’ll tell you everything I can,” Aunt Abby said, “but I’d prefer to do it over the breakfast I’m sure May is fixing inside. I’m rather ashamed to say I still have an appetite.”
Matthew managed a chuckle. “I’ve never known anything to keep you from eating,” he teased. “Not even when men in Philadelphia were trying to destroy the business your husband left you when he died.”
“I had you to protect me,” Aunt Abby said fondly. “What was there to ruin my appetite?”
Carrie smiled softly. She knew the real story of the terror her beloved friend had faced and just how lucky she was to be alive — or not to be gravely injured. She had long admired Aunt Abby’s strength. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t really an aunt to any of them — all of them had adopted this amazing woman full of love, passion, and wisdom. That they were all standing together on the porch after four years of separation during the war was still an amazement to her.
The creak of the screen door announced Jeremy’s arrival on the porch. “May has breakfast ready,” he announced. “I think some of her tears are mixed in with the eggs, but she was determined to fix it.”
Rose moved over and wrapped her arm around her twin, leaning into his strength.
Carrie smiled again, hoping she never lost the feeling of wonder she felt every time she saw them together. What a miracle that the two had been reunited after more than two decades apart with neither one of them even aware the other existed, and both of them bi-racial — Rose living as a black woman and Jeremy living as a white for his entire life.
“Do you ever think the day will arrive when our niece stops staring at us?” Jeremy asked Rose, his eyes dancing with mischievousness, obviously grabbing on to an opportunity to ease his pain and worry.
Carrie smiled back at him. “Since my uncle and aunt are only two weeks older than me, and I had no idea of the relationship between Rose and me for most of our lives — and didn’t even know you existed until
after
that — I’d say my staring may last for quite a long time. Add to that the reality that you and Rose have only known each other for a couple weeks, and I say I’m entitled to do whatever I want. I suggest you get used to it,” she retorted playfully, thankful for even a moment of brevity to take her mind off Lincoln’s assassination.
“And I suggest we go in to eat May’s cooking,” Matthew said firmly, taking Carrie’s arm and steering her through the front door. “It was a very long night, it’s going to be a very long day, and I happen to be very hungry!”
Carrie sobered at the thought of the day ahead and allowed herself to be led into her father’s elegant Richmond home. She missed the plantation more and more now that the war was over and spring had blanketed the trees with fresh green, the hillsides of Richmond covered with dogwood and azalea blooms, but she dearly loved his large three-story brick home perched on the hills over the city.
The morning sun caught on the chandelier in the foyer, breaking into millions of dancing lights on the floor. Aunt Abby moved up beside Carrie and took her hand. “No matter how dark it is, the sun will shine again,” she murmured.
They watched the dancing lights for just a moment and then hurried into the dining room to sit down to breakfast. There was a new day to live whether any of them were ready for it or not.
*******
Carrie thought she might never get used to the sight of a real breakfast on the table. After three years of severe deprivation, she had grown quite accustomed to daily breakfasts of thin porridge. Since the end of the war, groceries had begun to make their way in from the North, filling the few grocery stores left standing after the inferno that destroyed most of Richmond’s business district less than two weeks earlier. Aunt Abby, who insisted on buying their food in return for their hospitality, was responsible for the eggs, bacon, and toast gracing their table. Carrie had quit trying to argue with her and decided to simply be grateful for her love and generosity.
Carrie had taken just a few bites of her eggs when May hurried into the room, her eyes wide with concern. “Miss Carrie!”
Carrie pushed back from the table immediately and stood. “Robert?” she asked, trying to control the fear in her voice. What more would she have to endure today?
“Yessum. I went up to take him his breakfast. I found him with a right high fever. I done sent Miles out to get some cold water out of the well.”
Carrie was already halfway up the stairs but paused to give her a tight smile. “Thank you, May. I will need some—”
“I know, Miss Carrie. I’m goin’ right now to get them rags and a bowl. I be havin’ them up to you in a jiffy. Then I be’s right up with some o’ your potion.” May spun into the kitchen, the door snapping shut behind her.
Janie appeared on the steps behind Carrie. “I’m coming to help you,” she said, and then looked back at Rose and Aunt Abby who had already pushed away from the table. “Both of you go ahead and eat. Carrie and I can handle this. If you could bring us something when you’re done, that would be wonderful. We’ll need both the food and the moral support.”
Carrie was already up the stairs and entering the room when Janie caught up with her. She barely managed to suppress her groan when she saw her husband’s flushed face and his confused, fever-bright eyes. She had so hoped the fever was behind them. Forcing her tightened lips into a smile, she hurried to him and laid a cool hand on his forehead.
“I’m so hot,” Robert whispered. “Where am I?” He looked wildly around the room, panic shining in his eyes and thickening his voice.
Carrie’s heart sank even while she managed to sound calm and cheerful. “You’re at home with me, Robert. Your fever has gone back up, but we’ll get it back down. Just lay back and relax,” she said soothingly.
Robert stared at her wildly for a moment and then his eyes cleared just a little. “Carrie!” he gasped.
“That’s right, my love. It’s me.” Carrie worked quickly as she forced her voice to remain calm and slow.
May eased up behind her with a bowl of cool water and fresh rags.
“Thank you,” Carrie said gratefully. “Please tell Miles to keep bringing them up.”
“Don’t you worry none, Miss Carrie,” May replied. “Me and Miles done know how to help you. Ain’t we been doin’ it for a while? You just focus on taking care of Mr. Borden. We gonna make sure you gots ever’thing you need.”
Carrie and Janie worked in tandem soaking the rags in cool water, laying them on Robert’s hot body until they warmed, and then replacing them. Time ceased to exist. The horror of Lincoln’s assassination was replaced with the current battle for life.
Carrie prayed fervently as her hands moved steadily. Robert had only been home with her for a week. He had put on a few pounds, but he was still a gaunt caricature of the laughing, vibrant, handsome husband she had sent off to war. He had given his all for the Confederacy, but she was determined it would not claim him entirely. He had returned home in a medical wagon weak, sick, and on the verge of pneumonia. She had been waging a battle ever since.
“He’s unconscious again,” Janie said softly.
Carrie nodded grimly. She would have been relieved if he had simply slipped into sleep, but she knew his body was shutting down against the fever. “We’ve got to bring this fever down,” she replied, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, knowing that Robert could somehow feel her through the darkness. She wanted him only to feel confidence and love.
“We’ll get it down,” Janie replied firmly.
Carrie managed to smile. “You’ve been my strength for four years. What am I going to do when you and Clifford return home to Raleigh?” She and Janie had been like sisters ever since she saved her from a drunken attack the first year of the war. “I’m so happy to be reunited with Rose and Aunt Abby but so very sad that you’re leaving.”
Janie’s gentle, soft blue eyes glistened under her wavy, brown hair. “I can’t bear to think of it, so I’m not,” she replied, her lips set firmly. Only the tremor in her voice revealed her true feelings.
