Carried Forward By Hope (31 page)

Rose finally stood, her face and eyes peaceful. “Thank you,” she whispered as she took Aunt Abby’s hand. “We have to get back before dark. I don’t know these woods well enough to navigate them.”

“Not like you did the woods where you had your secret school?”

Rose smiled. “I could walk those paths with my eyes closed.” Her face took on another faraway look. “I wonder where everyone is. I never heard from anyone again after I got word they made it safely to Canada.”

“Freedom means people can reconnect,” Aunt Abby replied. “I believe you’ll get answers in time.”

Rose nodded. “Maybe, but if not, it’s enough to know they were free long before a piece of paper said they were.”

“Are you okay, Rose?” Aunt Abby asked suddenly.

Rose turned to gaze at her, not even asking how she knew her heart was in turmoil. “I have no right not to be,” she replied.

Aunt Abby cocked a brow and waited.

Rose searched for words. “I’m glad to be here,” she began. “I want to support Moses’s dream of being a farmer, and this is a good place for John.” She paused, knowing Aunt Abby would remain silent. “I’m glad to be here for Carrie,” she added, “and it feels a lot like coming home, only better, because now I’m free.” She lapsed into silence.

“But…” Aunt Abby finally prompted.

Rose smiled. “But I feel like I’m going backwards,” she admitted. “Life in the contraband camp was hard because I was separated from Moses and Carrie, but I loved every minute of teaching. I woke up every day knowing I was going to make a difference.” She sighed. “I can close my eyes and see all those faces smiling back at me. I can see the joy when they learned to read, when they figured out how to write. I had the joy of knowing I was preparing someone else to be free.”

“And you feel like that’s gone,” Aunt Abby observed.

“It is,” Rose said, trying to keep the sorrow from closing her throat.

“Really?”

Rose frowned now, and turned to stare at Aunt Abby. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’re a teacher,” Aunt Abby said. “You don’t need a school building to teach, but if you want one, why don’t you just build one?”

Rose started to laugh but then just stared at her wordlessly, an idea struggling to free itself from her sorrowful thoughts.

“All you need are people who want to learn,” Aunt Abby continued. She paused a moment. “How many kids are about to be on the plantation?”

Rose thought about Eddie’s kids and all the children Moses’s men would bring with them. “A lot,” she admitted. Her mind began to spin as she thought about the neighboring plantations that would need black labor and the families that would be a part of it. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. “Aunt Abby…” she said breathlessly.

Aunt Abby laughed. “Now you’re seeing the picture,” she replied, a broad smile on her face.

“I can start a school right here!” Rose exclaimed.

“And I’ll make sure you have all the supplies you need,” Aunt Abby said, her eyes dancing with delight. “One letter will have boxes here as soon as you need them.”

Rose clapped her hands together sharply, grinning as the sound vibrated through the trees. “And I don’t have to do it in secret,” she said, almost in awe.

“Never again,” Aunt Abby assured her.
“Never again.”

******

Thomas, standing by the fireplace, enjoyed the warmth that started to ward off the night air as he stared around his crowded parlor. Captain Jones’s men spilled out onto the porch, laughing and talking easily. He watched as Jeremy laughed with Sam, and he smiled when Carrie leaned down to hug Carl, Eddie’s youngest who was now eleven years old and who looked like a heavier version of his daddy.

Aunt Abby, who had just strolled into the house, walked over to stand beside him. “You look like a man deep in thought.”

Thomas gazed down at her. “Care to go for a walk?”

“I would love to,” she replied.

Dusk had fallen when they walked away from the house, skirting the boxwoods that lined the driveway. Granite walked over to have his head scratched and then they moved on, silence falling between them like a comfortable glove.

Thomas felt himself relaxing more and more as they moved toward the barren fields bordered by trees sporting soft green leaves. “Spring is my favorite time of the year,” he finally murmured.

“Mine too,” Aunt Abby agreed, thankful for the warmth of her cloak as she pulled it close.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I feel perfect.” She gazed around. “I don’t know that I’ve seen a more beautiful place.”

Thomas frowned. “It’s not what it was.” He straightened his shoulders. “But it will be.” He reached down to pick up a handful of soil and let it run through his fingers. “The war years have been good for the fields. It’s given them time to rest and gather renewed vigor. Next year’s tobacco crop will be a good one,” he predicted.

“How large is the plantation?”

“Twenty-five hundred acres.” Thomas waved his arm. “Everything you can see and more. It’s bounded by the James River and by the main road that leads into Richmond.” He frowned. “We won’t be able to put all of it back in crops for a while. They’re simply won’t be enough workers because I can’t pay them yet, but the time will come when we’ll produce what we used to,” he said with determination.

Aunt Abby smiled. “I believe that.”

Thomas shook his head. “I still can’t believe what Opal and the kids did,” he said in disbelief.

Aunt Abby looked at him. “I must have missed that. What did they do?”

Thomas smiled. “I think you were out with Rose. Opal and the kids found some cows and pigs running free in the woods a couple years ago. When the last group of soldiers came through they managed to hide them before they got here. They had built a pen way back in the woods.” He veered off down a road behind the barn. “She said they’re back here.”

After a few minutes of steady walking, they came out upon a series of pens and sheds. “Well, will you look at that!” Thomas exclaimed. He leaned on the fence and stared at a dozen small calves tottering and playing, while what seemed to be a small army of piglets suckled at their sow’s teats.

“Look at them!” Aunt Abby walked forward and held out her hand to a young calf sticking his head through the fence and staring at them with a comical expression. “I’d say you have the beginning of quite a herd.”

Thomas nodded. “I do, indeed. It will be enough to keep everyone fed. I’ll buy some more, but this is quite a foundation.” He glanced around, his expression sad this time.

“What is it, Thomas?”

He hesitated. “I have so much to be grateful for, but it hurts my heart every time I look out into the pasture and see only Granite. I had some of the finest horses in Virginia before the war. I already knew they would all be gone, but I can’t get used to seeing empty fields.”

“You’ll change that,” Aunt Abby said confidently, knowing intuitively that sympathy wasn’t what he needed.

Thomas stared at her and laughed. “You’re right,” he said firmly. “I will change that.” He walked away from the pens and continued on down a road through the fields. “It’s getting dark,” he mused. “Do you mind?”

Aunt Abby looked up at the stars, reveling in the sense of openness. “Not at all. It’s been so long since I’ve been free of the confines of a city. This is simply splendid.”

“Did you grow up on a plantation?”

“Yes. My father’s home is not as grand as this, but it’s beautiful. He has five hundred acres south of Roanoke near the North Carolina border.” She hesitated. “He was a hard man. I left as soon as I had the opportunity.”

“That’s not easy for a southern lady,” Thomas commented. “Carrie’s independence was frowned upon. I imagine yours was more so.”

“Let’s just say I’m used to doing things my way,” Aunt Abby said demurely.

Thomas laughed and tucked her hand in his arm. They continued to walk, letting silence fall between them again. Frogs and crickets filled the night air as a breeze blew strong enough to keep any spring mosquitoes at bay.

They turned around and began to walk back before Thomas broke the silence. “Tell me more about your plans in Richmond,” he invited.

Aunt Abby began by telling him the vow she made to Lincoln as his funeral train rolled by. “I believe building factories is the way I can best contribute. It’s what I know best.”

“How long do you think it will take to build them?”

Aunt Abby shrugged. “At least six months. Then I have to equip them and train the workers. I suspect it will be close to a year before we’re in full operation, but if I can speed things up, I certainly will.”

“And you’re planning on hiring only black workers?”

Aunt Abby shook her head. “Not at all. I want my factories to begin the integration of society. Factories in the North have blacks and whites working side by side.”

“And you believe that can happen down here?”

“By the tone of your voice, you don’t believe that is possible.”

Thomas shook his head and pressed her hand. “Not at all. Oh, I used to believe that, but I don’t anymore.” He hesitated. “I just believe it will be very difficult.”

Aunt Abby smiled. “I’ve always believed life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

Thomas looked down at her. “You are quite unusual.”

“So I’ve been told.” Aunt Abby paused for a long moment as she stared out over the fields glowing in the moonlight. “My grandmother was quite unusual as well. While her daughter, my mother, was trying to teach me to be a good plantation wife, my grandmother was telling me not to let anyone mandate my future but me. She warned me it would be very difficult because so many would be threatened, but that I was the only one who should make choices for my life.”

“Your mother must have loved that,” Thomas said wryly.

Aunt Abby laughed. “She never knew. It was Mamaw’s and my secret. She told me that if Mama knew we talked about such things, we would never see each other again. I adored my grandmother, so I never said a thing. I just lived my life as I wanted.” She grew silent. “When Mamaw died I thought my heart would break. I was only eighteen, but I was gone the next week.”

“How?” Thomas asked with astonishment, turning to stare down at her.

Aunt Abby shrugged. “I just left. I told one of our slaves I had a trip to make into town. When I got there I told him he would no longer be needed, handed him a letter to give to my parents, and I left on the next train for Philadelphia.”

“That must have been
quite
the adventure,” Thomas commented.

Aunt Abby laughed. “I had absolutely no idea what I had gotten myself into,” she admitted. “Thankfully, I met my husband very soon after arriving. He was just untraditional enough not to be appalled by a young lady on her own. I think I would have loved him just for that, but we shared so much in common. I loved him almost from the day we met. My parents washed their hands of me when I married. My husband gave me security, but he also respected my need for freedom and independence. I believe we made a perfect couple.”

“What happened to him?

“He died in an outbreak of cholera,” she said sadly. “At least he didn’t suffer long.” She took a deep breath. “He talked to me about his businesses, but I had no idea how to run them. It took me a while, but I figured it out.” Her voice became reflective. “When Howard was dying he found enough strength to tell me something that carried me through.”

Thomas waited quietly.

“He told me I would hit a lot of brick walls in running the business. He told me the brick walls would be there for a reason. They weren’t there to keep me out. They would be there to give me a chance to show how badly I wanted something — that they only stop people who don’t want it badly enough.” Aunt Abby paused. “I decided that night that I wouldn’t let anything stop me.”

“And you haven’t,” Thomas said admiringly.

“I’ve had help,” Aunt Abby said. “Men who stood by me when most turned away. People, like Matthew, who offered protection when I was in danger. People who gave me a chance when others refused to acknowledge me.”

“None of us ever accomplish something of greatness alone,” Thomas agreed. “I used to think I did…until I realized it was really my slaves who built the plantation. I thought it was me because I believed them to be my property,” he said regretfully.

“And now you know the truth,” Aunt Abby said gently.

“Yes,” Thomas murmured. “I have much to make up for.”

“How long do you plan to beat yourself up?” Aunt Abby asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Thomas stopped walking and turned to her.

“Did you honestly believe you were doing the right thing when you were a slave owner?”

Thomas stared at her in the darkness. “Yes,” he replied slowly, “but that didn’t make it right.”

“Of course not, but you were not intentionally inflicting harm. I learned a long time ago that no great accomplishment can flourish out of guilt or fear. The only valid plans for the future can be made by those who have the capacity for living now,” Aunt Abby stated quietly. “All of us, if we are human, have done things we are not proud of — that we wish we could undo. We can wallow in the guilt, or we can simply live the best we can in the present.”