Distant Dreams (49 page)

53

Broken Hearts

James listened patiently to Virginia’s recitation of their guest list. In less than two weeks he was to become this woman’s husband. He watched her while she chattered, her curls bobbing in ringlets from either side of her face as she carefully scanned the list. He looked away from her and toward the door, as if desperately searching for a way of escape.

“Have we missed anyone?” she inquired gravely.

“Not unless you meant to invite the entire state of Virginia,” James said dryly. “I believe I know a couple of families in the southwest corner whom you left out.”

Edith admonished him. “Now, James, these things must be tended to in proper order. It simply wouldn’t do at all to overlook someone of importance.”

James nodded and looked to his father for some kind of support. Leland merely shrugged. “I leave these things to the womenfolk,” he said and went back to his game of checkers with Joseph Adams.

“They do these things so well,” Joseph replied. “I should know, I have a whole houseful of them.”

“Oh, Papa,” Virginia laughed, and James thought it a grating sound rather than the charming attraction he’d once considered it. “Men know nothing of proper decorum,” she continued. “Were it not for women, men might go about in shirtsleeves and knee breeches.”

“I know a few old men who still wear knee breeches,” Joseph told his daughter.

“True, but as you said they are old men, and they certainly do not care about their appearance. Still, such eccentricity can be overlooked in the very old.”

“This is true enough, Virginia; however, age is no reason to be vulgar,” Edith added.

James’ mind wandered. The discussion of the past week since Virginia and her father had come to visit had been solely with regard to his and Virginia’s wedding. Not only was it enormously boring, it made him most uncomfortable. Marriage had been only a game to him. A profitable, necessary game, invoked into being by his father’s demands. But the reality of it all was now starting to grip him.

He watched Virginia at ease with his parents. He watched Joseph and Leland laughing about some matter, and he realized more than ever that he couldn’t remain here in Washington. He couldn’t continue the charade he’d been playing these past months. This was no game for childish amusement. This was real life and a very real matter of honor. Virginia expected a husband who could shower her in jewels and lavish her with attention. She would never find it entertaining to discuss locomotive boilers or the best route to Cumberland. She would never live in Harper’s Ferry as he had proposed. And she would impose her will on him just as his parents had always done. He felt almost as frightened now as when he had first stepped on a railcar after the accident. Not just fear—but pure panic.

The conversation continued without anyone so much as inquiring about James’ opinions. Not that he really cared. He never felt more strongly than now that this was Virginia’s wedding, not his. He simply observed all that passed before his eyes, and with every moment he knew he had made a grave mistake. When supper was finally announced, James had lost his appetite.

The small gathering had barely taken their seats when a knock sounded from the kitchen door at the back of the house.

“Who could be delivering at this hour?” Edith questioned, then started to get up when Nellie appeared to announce a messenger from the Oakbridge plantation.

Joseph excused himself and followed the girl from the room, while James turned to hear Virginia describing the details of the bridesmaids’ gowns to his mother. A queer feeling came over him as he watched and listened. He opened his mouth twice to comment, but words wouldn’t form on his lips. He felt almost as though he were watching the scene of a play. It was as if he’d literally been taken from the room and placed at a distance. These people were like actors, each playing a part. The story was his life, and somehow he’d been removed from the action and decisions that were to guide its course.

“You might not know it,” Virginia was saying, “but the lace on my gown is all handmade. I’ve worked on it for nearly four years.”

“How marvelous!” Edith exclaimed and Leland nodded. “So industrious and cunning. Your daughters will no doubt cherish the gown.”

“Even more so because it has been made over from my mother’s wedding gown,” Virginia replied.

Who were these people? James found himself wondering. The faces were familiar, as was the setting, but the characters and personalities seemed awkwardly alien. Or was he the alien one who did not belong?

I can’t go through with this, he thought. I cannot marry this woman. Maybe later. When I have discovered if I can make my own way in life. Maybe after I complete my work with the B&O and join Father in his venture. Carolina’s face appeared suddenly in his mind to haunt him. Something had happened between them in Baltimore when he’d escorted her to the concert. But he’d never been certain what it was. She had seemed on the verge of telling him something important, and yet all she would say when he asked for an explanation was that she was upset that his engagement to Virginia had made her mother intent on marrying Carolina off as well. But Carolina was not such a petty person. Could that truly have been all that was troubling her? Was she still angry at him for ending their tutoring sessions? Or was she angry because he’d not asked for her hand instead of her sister’s?

He almost smiled at that notion. It was not only ridiculous, it was unthinkable. Carolina would never have such feelings for the man betrothed to her sister.

Women were strange creatures; that much he knew. He had tried his hand many times at conversing and socializing with them, and apart from Carolina Adams, whose interests went clearly beyond the realm of feminine interest, James had never felt truly drawn to any of them. Virginia Adams was beautiful, but even that seemed to have faded in his eyes during the course of their courtship. Virginia’s appearance might be lovely on the outside, but inside she was harsh and calculating. He had seen her strike a slave girl across the face for dropping her favorite strand of pearls, and he had also witnessed her belittle Carolina when she thought no one was around. These memories left a bad taste in his mouth, and the more he thought about them, the more certain he was that he couldn’t marry Virginia Adams.

Surprising the trio by suddenly getting to his feet, James decided to speak his mind. They were, after all, very privately assembled, and with both Virginia and her father here, it would work well to put the matter behind them. He searched in his mind for the right words. But before he could speak, Joseph Adams returned white-faced and shaking.

“Joseph?” Leland said, rising to his feet awkwardly. “Has there been bad news?”

“I scarcely can say the words,” Joseph replied, looking first to his old friend and then to his daughter. “Yellow fever has taken several lives at Oakbridge, and we must return immediately.”

“Is it mother?” Virginia cried out, throwing her napkin aside and getting to her feet. “Tell me, Papa!”

Joseph put his arm around her shoulder. “No, your mother is fine, at least in body. I’m afraid . . . it’s Mary.”

————

A stunned Joseph and Virginia returned to Oakbridge. Three days afterward Mary was laid to rest in the family graveyard beside the other Adams children, Hampshire and Tennessee.

Penny, still too weak to attend the services, remained in bed in a guest room where she had been moved immediately after her sister’s death. Carolina stayed with her during the funeral and watched from the window. She felt relief from the reprieve, wondering if she could have ever made it through the painful ceremony. It wasn’t her lack of faith that Mary had gone on to a better place. It wasn’t the fear of breaking down in front of everyone. It was the isolation she felt. It was the overwhelming feeling that she had no one with whom to share this sorrow.

James was there. She knew this as well as she knew anything. The Baldwins had been one of the few families to make the journey. There were only a handful of friends from the community who attended. Most of the families were keeping safely away from the area of sickness and wouldn’t return for several weeks. Others were burdened themselves by the fever and could scarcely be expected to come. But James and his parents had come yesterday, and each had done what they could to comfort their friends. Edith to Margaret. Leland to Joseph. And James to Virginia.

“What else could he do?” Carolina murmured against the windowpane. She couldn’t see James from Penny’s window, but she knew he was there among the black-clad group in the distance, taking his place beside Virginia.

Mary is dead, Carolina thought. She is dead and James will marry Virginia, and York will go back to Washington and life will go on around me, yet never really include me. What will become of me?

Perhaps everyone was right. Perhaps she should give up the foolish notions of railroads and universities. Maybe marriage to Hampton Cabot or someone else would at least free her from the misery she felt here and now. But that was a foolish reason to marry. Her father had always told her marriage was a sacred thing between man, woman, and God. It wasn’t something to consider in jest, and it wasn’t something you could rid yourself of later should you find it inconvenient.

“Did they put her in the ground?” Penny weakly called from the four-poster bed.

Carolina let the curtain fall back into place and turned to face her younger sister. “Yes,” she replied. “They put her body in the ground.”

“Won’t she be a-scared?” Penny asked.

“Afraid,” Carolina corrected. “No, because it’s just her body that is there. Mary is in heaven where the angels are.”

“Is Mary going to fly in the sky?” Penny’s weak voice questioned.

Carolina smiled. “I don’t know, Penny. If you were in heaven is that what you would do?”

Penny smiled. “I think it would be fun to fly around. I’d go really fast. Like when the boys ride their horses in the races. I’d go faster and faster and pretty soon I’d just fly up into the sky.”

“That sounds nice,” Carolina remarked. She sat down hard on the chair beside the bed. For all her youth she felt so old and tired. Even in the face of Penny’s recovery, it was hard to feel any different. Life was a most difficult adversary.

Eyes still red from crying, Miriam appeared in Penny’s room an hour later. Carolina knew that in addition to little Mary’s death, several of the slaves had lost family members as well. Dear Hannah had died also, and services had been held the night before in the Negro church. Carolina had been the only family member to attend, though she could barely contain her own misery.

“Miz Carolina,” Miriam said, coming to the girl’s side, “you gwanna need some rest. You go on now. I’s gwanna sit with Miz Pennsylvania.”

Carolina nodded in agreement and left the room. The solitude would be refreshing.

“Carolina?”

She looked up as she closed Penny’s door, and her breath caught. “James . . .” He looked as weary and sorrowful as she felt. His eyes, usually sparkling with boyish amusement, were somber and filled with concern.

“I’ve not had a chance to speak with you since our arrival,” he said softly.

Carolina crushed great handfuls of black bombazine as she nervously twisted the skirt of her gown. “I know,” was all she could manage to say.

“I’m so very sorry about Mary. How is Penny?”

“Better but very weak. The doctor fears she will always be fragile.”

“Your mother seems to be taking this very hard,” James continued. “She collapsed at the service.”

“I should go to her,” Carolina said but made no move to leave.

James put his hand on her arm. “No, they’ve already put her to bed with some herbal remedy of Naomi’s. My mother is with her, as is Virginia and Georgia. I’d rather you stay and talk to me.”

Carolina felt tears form anew, and she lowered her face. “Why? Why would you rather I do that? You should be with Virginia. That’s where you belong, James.”

He frowned. “It’s only that . . . when I saw you this morning you looked so very alone. I thought perhaps you needed someone to talk to. And, maybe I’m wrong, but we have always been able to talk about such things to each other before.”

She continued walking down the corridor, and he stayed at her side. Yes, of all the people at Oakbridge just then, he was the one person she felt would truly understand her grief. But with him so close, too many other sensations were converging inside her for her to feel safe in unburdening her heart to him. Carolina stopped and couldn’t help but glance down the hall toward the nursery. Shuddering, she felt as if death’s hand were upon her.

“You were with her when she died, weren’t you, Carolina?” James said.

A full-fledged rush of tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded. She’d thought her grief had played itself out, but all at once the pain hit her again and was almost too much to bear. Her memories of Mary and her desire for someone to comfort her rushed upon her.

“That must have been terribly difficult for you,” James said.

“It was more difficult for Mother.” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“You don’t have to be brave . . . not for me, anyway.” He reached up and cupped her trembling chin in his hand.

For the last three days she had been holding back, trying hard to be strong for everyone else—especially her mother. She didn’t want anyone to worry over her. It was her mother who needed the family most. But except a few moments of private tears, she had kept it all bottled up within. It wasn’t hard now to respond to James’ gentle entreaty.

“I . . . I’ve never seen anyone die before . . . but for it to be Mary . . . so little, so helpless . . . so—” Her voice broke in a muffled cry.

“You once helped me over the death of a friend. I’d like to return that favor if there is any way that I could.”

His voice began to penetrate the fog of her grief. His touch reached something lost and forlorn inside her.

“Oh, James! She can’t be gone! She just can’t be! Mary . . . sweet, dear Mary!” Carolina’s whole body shook with grief.

James caught her trembling frame in his arms. “Just cry, dear . . .” he consoled, holding her tight, caressing her hair with his hand. “Let it all out. I’ll be here for you.”