Carried Forward By Hope (16 page)

“They gave the slaves more room on the slave boats,” one man muttered as he tried to slide down into a sitting position by the rail.”

“Do you see the hurricane deck sagging? This is madness!”

“What will happen if this steamer catches fire?” another man demanded.

Matthew shuddered and continued to push forward. He wasn’t sure why he was working so hard to get to the front, except that perhaps it would give him a feeling of not being so closed in if the front were open to him. His anxiety and anger were making it hard to breathe.

He continued to overhear conversations as he moved forward.

“I just spoke to the steamer’s clerk,” one dignified man stated.

Matthew slowed when he realized the man speaking was William D. Snow, a senator-elect from Alabama. He listened eagerly.

“I went to him with my concerns about the number of passengers. He showed me the boat’s certificates and books.” Snow scowled. “He also told me the
Sultana
is transporting the largest number of passengers ever carried upriver on a single vessel.”

Matthew ground to a halt.

“How many passengers are on here?” another man asked.

Snow hesitated before he answered. “Twenty-four hundred soldiers, a hundred citizen passengers and a crew of about eighty.”

Matthew almost gagged. “Twenty-five hundred passengers on a boat built for four hundred?” he blurted aloud.

The men turned to stare at him, but no one responded. All of them just shrugged. Matthew knew they felt as helpless as he did. He turned and continued to push forward.

“This steamer isn’t just carrying passengers,” a round-faced man growled as he fought for a handhold on the railing. “There are almost one hundred mules and horses, and a hundred hogs in a pen toward the stern. Not to mention all the sugar and wine they are carrying.”

Matthew’s steps faltered, but he was being pulled forward by a force he didn’t understand.

Janie stared blindly into the vibrant green of the newly leafing maple trees surrounding Clifford’s home. It was odd to be in a city virtually untouched by four years of violent war — no battles, no destruction, no charred buildings. If she were so inclined, she could almost believe it had never happened.

She was not so inclined. In spite of the horrors of the war, at least she had felt alive. She had felt purpose. Now there was nothing to break the monotony of one mindless day after another. Shifting her chair, Janie reached over to pick up a cold glass of iced tea. She sipped it thoughtfully as the sun caused shadows to dance across the lawn.

Clifford’s home was beautiful. The sprawling white clapboard structure with gleaming green shutters was bordered on both ends by a wide brick fireplace. The circular gravel drive in front of the house was rarely empty of fine carriages transporting important men. She hated every inch of it.

Janie’s eyes narrowed as she thought of these
important
men.
Self
-important was a more apt description. She had come to loathe the purposeless days that spread out like the never-ending flow of a river, but she truly dreaded the nights when Clifford’s beautiful home rang with the angry voices of
important
men determined to regain all they had lost during the war. She could not help but hear their hatred and bigotry, and she had learned their violence spawned even more anger in her husband. With nowhere else to direct it, Clifford always released it on her.

It had taken only a few days before she greatly preferred the boredom of daylight to the terror of the evenings. Janie took deep breaths as she fought to think. She could hardly remember the tough-minded, independent woman who had left Raleigh four years ago to work at Chimborazo Hospital against the wishes of her family. Undaunted, she had taken the train and started a new life. That new life included Carrie Cromwell, her family, and all the patients they treated together over the years.

In less than a week, that world had been dimmed by the brutal reality of the one she was in now. Why had she not listened to Carrie? Why had she been so determined to return to Raleigh with Clifford? Why had she thought she could change the anger that grew in him daily?

Janie swallowed the sob that wanted to burst from her throat and blinked back the tears that wanted to break free. She knew to hide the fear that beat at her breast on a daily basis. She had learned quickly that any show of fear or weakness only fed Clifford’s anger. Defiance had the same effect, so she was learning how to walk a very fine line to escape his insults and rage.

The sound of carriage wheels on the drive caused her to take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders with determination. A glimpse through the trees told her Clifford was home from his law office. The others would arrive shortly. Janie stood, took a final deep draw of tea, and walked into the house. It was a matter of principle that she not be on the porch when Clifford arrived home. She refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking his dutiful wife was waiting for his return. It was a non-significant victory, but she grasped for whatever would allow her to hold on to her rapidly dwindling self-respect.

“Janie!” Clifford called for her as soon as he entered the house, his sharp eyes scanning to make sure everything met his high standards of excellence.

Janie watched him for a moment from the protection of the dining room. She felt a moment’s fear when his sharp eyes scanned the ornately carved rosewood furniture upholstered with soft blue velvet. Two Boston rockers perched on the edge of the dark blue carpet in front of the fireplace. In spite of the bright sunlight pouring in through the spotless windows, she had already lit the lanterns, anticipating Clifford’s demand that his house be ready for guests at every moment. She forced herself to relax, knowing her careful cleaning had removed even a speck of dust.

Finally Clifford stopped his perusal of the room. Just as he opened his mouth to call for her, Janie straightened her shoulders and walked into the parlor.

“Hello, Clifford,” she said calmly.

Clifford’s eyes scanned her carefully, analyzing her coral crinoline dress and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. He demanded she look the part of a successful attorney’s wife at every moment. Even when cleaning, she had to always be ready to accept company. In just a week, Clifford had already taken great strides to rebuild what had been a powerful law practice before the war. She had no doubt his unscrupulous determination would open many doors.

Janie stood straight, forcing herself to breathe evenly, taking pride in such a small accomplishment. She met his eyes directly and waited for him to speak.

There was no greeting — no fond welcome for his wife. “I have an important meeting tonight,” he announced. “I expect drinks in the study in one hour.”

Janie nodded calmly but chose to not respond. She was fairly certain he would not expect her to as long as she met his wishes. She had a wild moment of wondering how he would respond if she were to say, “Yessuh, Masser.” She knew Clifford’s three slaves disappeared well before the end of the war, and his fledgling business could only support part-time housekeeping, so he expected Janie to do almost everything. She didn’t really care. At least it gave her a way to pass the tedious days. And on the days Wanda was there, at least she had someone else to talk to, though their housekeeper was clearly not comfortable with carrying on a conversation with her white employer.

“Where is my dinner?” Clifford demanded, a scowl appearing on his face when he glanced into the dining room and saw an empty table.

“We’re having chicken and dumplings,” Janie replied. “I left it in the pot until you returned home to be assured it was hot.” She knew it wasn’t as good as May’s, but her cooking skills were improving. It was something she had never had need of until recently. Her family’s servants had always cooked when she was growing up, and then May provided delicious meals at the Cromwell home. Even when all they had was months of beans and cornbread, she always managed to do something to vary the taste, and it was always delicious. “I prepared a sweet potato pie for dessert,” she added.

“I would like to eat now,” Clifford said imperiously, his look clearly indicating he was disappointed not to have found something to accuse her with.

Janie nodded. “Go ahead and be seated. I’ll have it out in just a moment.”

Dinner passed quietly, though Janie could feel anger and resentment boiling in Clifford. She could only guess at what knowledge he had gained during the day that ignited the latest fire. She could hardly remember the days in the beginning of their relationship, and even in the early months of their marriage, when they would have wonderful conversations and discuss what was going on in the country. The defeat of the Confederacy had changed all that, sparking a rage within Clifford that closed her out.

Still, she was anxious to know what was happening in the country. Clifford forbade her to leave the house without him as an escort, and since he was never free to go anywhere, she had not left the walls of his home except to walk in the yard since arriving in Raleigh.

“Any news from General Johnston?” she dared to ask, desperately wanting to know if the war was truly over. Lee and Grant had signed the infamous surrender at Appomattox, but the last she knew, General Johnston still had active troops in North Carolina.

“And what could you possibly care about that?” Clifford asked scornfully, his eyes flashing as he shoveled in a mouthful of steaming chicken and dumplings.

“Since I helped return a good many of those soldiers to the battlefield,” Janie responded, forgetting for a moment to keep her voice subservient, “I would like to know if they are still fighting, or if the war is truly over.”

“So that you can gloat over the complete demise of the South?” Clifford snapped angrily. “I’m sure you’re sorry not to have Carrie Borden to celebrate with.”

Janie swallowed back her bitter retort and closed her heart to the stinging pain of missing Carrie. She’d had her chance and she had foolishly walked away. She also knew better than to press for more information.

“You are nothing but a stupid woman,” Clifford sneered, his eyes boring into her. “I ran into your father at the courthouse,” he offered, his eyes shifting to become more calculating.

Janie stiffened. She’d seen her family only once since returning home. Clifford insisted she invite them over for dinner the second night, acting the part of a dutiful, loving husband. Janie, not wanting to alarm her parents, played along. Her parents, she knew, were so proud she was married to an influential attorney who was also a war hero in their eyes. Now she merely waited to hear what Clifford would say.

“I chose not to tell him that his beloved daughter is a nigger-loving traitor without a brain in her head,” he snapped.

Janie continued to gaze at him. He knew before they married that she carried no prejudice in her heart, and that she longed for the slaves to be free. Only one of them had changed in the last months. Clifford’s bitterness was growing on a daily basis. She was desperate to know what was fueling it, but instead asked, “How was Father?”

“As well as could be expected,” Clifford ground out. “Everything he has worked for is gone, most of his money is gone, and now he has nothing but a woman who longs for the destruction of the South for a daughter.” He slammed his fist down on the table. “As well as could be expected is really not so well, is it?” he taunted.

Janie’s color rose in her face as she swallowed back her fear and anger. She forced her shoulders to remain straight as she stared back into his eyes directly, so as to not betray her fear, and calmly, so as to not appear to be challenging him. All she wanted to do was bolt from the table and hide in her bedroom, but even there she wasn’t safe.

The sound of carriage wheels signaled her rescue. Clifford spared her a scathing glance, took two quick bites to finish his meal, and slid back from the table. “Stay away from the study once you have brought drinks,” he ordered before he strode from the room.

Janie blinked back tears as she pushed away her full plate. If Clifford cared enough to notice, he would see that she had lost quite a bit of weight in the last month or so. Even at Carrie’s it had become increasingly difficult to eat. Now that she was back in Raleigh she was hardly able to swallow a bite around the constant tightness in her chest.

Within twenty minutes, there were five gentlemen in Clifford’s study. They smiled pleasantly at her when she delivered the drinks, but she could tell by their distracted eyes that they didn’t really see her. They were already thinking about what they had come to discuss. “Have a good evening,” she said graciously before she left the room.

Janie did not go to the back of the house as ordered. She moved out of sight of the study door, inching closer when Clifford closed it firmly. She would just have to take her chances. The only way she could get information was to stay close enough to try and overhear any conversation. Right now their voices were muted behind the heavy oak door, but if history repeated itself, they would soon be yelling with passion.