On to Richmond (5 page)

             
Sarah smiled softly at her son-in-law.  “Does a heart good to see her cookin’ et.   I hope you done saved some room for some sweet potato pie.”

             
“Since when do you need room for your sweet potato pie?  There will never be a time in my life that I won’t find some extra space for that!” Moses laughed. 

             
Just then there was a timid knock at the door. 

             
“It’s open,” Moses called. 

             
No one was surprised that someone was at the door.  Moses had become the undisputed leader of the quarters, Rose was the teacher revered by all, and Sarah was the one everyone sought when there was a need.  There was hardly a night they got through dinner without someone coming by. 

             
The door opened to admit a dark-skinned woman of average height.  Her dress that had once fit her loosely now seemed to clutch at her mid-section. 

             
“Opal!  You’re here just in time to have some pie,” Sarah said warmly.

             
“Oh, no!” Opal protested.  “I didn’t come to disturb your dinner.”  She clutched tighter at a piece of paper she held in her hand.  “I can come back later.”

             
“Nonsense,” Rose said firmly, rising to pull another rung ladder chair forward.  “We were just finishing.  And you will too have a piece of pie,” she added firmly.  “You know how much you love it.” 

             
Opal smiled then.  “Well, if you insist.  Sarah, you do make the best pie in Virginia.”

             
Sarah snorted but smiled with pleasure.  She stood and moved toward the table where the pie waited.   “Get on with you, girl!”

             
Rose turned to Opal again.  “What do you have there, Opal?”

             
Carrie was surprised when Opal turned to her eagerly.

             
“It was you I came to see, Miss Carrie.”

             
“What can I do for you?”  Carrie asked immediately.  She had never seen Opal so agitated.  Or maybe she was just excited.  There was a light in her eyes she had never seen and her ample body seemed to be trying to control a quiver. 

             
Opal looked down at the paper she had in her hand.  “My cousin up in Richmond sent me this letter.  Sam done brung it to me today.  She gave it to him when he was there last week.”

             
“Sam
brought
it to me today,” Rose corrected gently.

             
Carrie almost laughed.  Rose was always the teacher.  Then she turned her attention back to Opal.  “What did the letter say?”

             
Opal took a deep breath as if she were gathering all her courage.  Then she looked Carrie straight in the eye.  “You remember telling us slaves that if we wanted to be free we could be?”

             
“I do,” Carrie responded immediately.

             
“Did you mean it?”

             
“Of course, she meant it,” Moses interrupted.  “You know that.  You know that twelve of the Cromwell people have left in the past few months.  What are you asking a question like that for?”

             
Opal looked down at the floor.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

             
Carrie hastened to ease her embarrassment.  “That’s all right, Opal.  I can tell you’re very excited about something.  What is it?” she asked gently.

             
Opal seemed to gain renewed courage from her words.  “Like I said, I got this letter from my cousin.  She’s free and living in Richmond.  Seems like they need extra people at the Tredegar Iron Works and at the State Armory.  She told me slaves are coming in from the country - hired out by their owners to work there.”  Opal paused and then looked at Carrie.  “I want to go to Richmond to work, Miss Carrie.  I’ll send you back the money I make.  And maybe,” she hesitated and then continued, “maybe, I can earn enough extra to pay for my freedom.”

             
“You don’t have to pay for your freedom,” Carrie protested.  “I’ve already told you you can go free when you want.” 

             
“Your father know he’s losing a lot of his slaves?”

             
“Well,” Carrie hesitated and then just decided to be honest.  “No, he doesn’t.”

             
“What’s he gonna do when he finds out?”

             
“I have no idea,” Carrie confessed.  “I’m sure he won’t be happy, however.”  Then she added, “That’s not what’s important, though.   I don’t believe slavery is right, and I happen to be the one in charge of Cromwell Plantation.  How my father reacts is my problem, not yours.”

             
Opal shook her head firmly.  “I don’t aim to be causing no problems for you, Miss Carrie.  I done already know that your father don’t know about what you’re doing.”  She smiled.  “I think it’s wonderful.”  Then she continued, “My running away to freedom won’t help anyone.  ‘Cause it’s to Richmond I intend to run.  Somebody there will see me - maybe say something to your daddy.  Then that would ruin everything here for everyone else.  I ain’t gonna do that.”

             
Carrie looked at her more closely.  What she said made sense.  It was obvious Opal had thought through this.  “Let me get this straight.  You want me to hire you out to work at the armory or the iron works.  Where are you planning on living?”

             
“My cousin has a place down at the bottom of Shockhoe Hill.  She said they have room for me.  Her and her husband have four children, but they want me to come.”

             
“And you want to go?”

             
Opal nodded firmly.  “Yes, Miss Carrie.  I want to go.”

             
Carrie looked at her closely.  There was a set look of determination on her face and a shine in her eyes that spoke of something more than Opal was saying.  Carrie opened her mouth to press her further and then shut it.  She had offered any of her slaves freedom.  Opal was turning down freedom to protect the rest of the slaves and was willing to be hired out.  She would ask her no questions.   Slowly she nodded.  “I will arrange for you to be taken to Richmond, Opal.  Sam is going into town next week.  You can go with him then.”

             
Opal’s face lit with a glorious smile as a sigh of relief exploded from her lips.  “Oh, thank you, Miss Carrie.”

             
“You’re welcome,” Carrie said softly.  “And just remember, Opal, your freedom is yours when you want it.”

_______________________________

              Carrie sighed as she ran the ivory handled brush repeatedly through her long, black hair.  It still felt better when it was done for her, but she had determined months ago to take care of herself.  It was hard to even imagine that she had once had everything done for her.  Her baths drawn, her clothes selected and laid out, her hair brushed and arranged.  At one time, Rose had done it all for her.   Carrie’s time in Philadelphia with Aunt Abby had changed all of that.   Wealthy enough to pay for any services she desired, Aunt Abby chose to care for herself. 

             
Carrie’s face grew sad at the thought of Aunt Abby.  She missed her terribly.  Most of the time it seemed as if the woman actually was
her
aunt, and not the aunt of one of her close friends.    The month Carrie had spent in Aunt Abby’s home the summer before was one of the most special memories of her life.  The two had connected on a deep level, attracted by the honesty and independence they found in each other.  The years’ difference between them had melted away as they spent hours in heart-to-heart conversation.  Carrie allowed her mind to wander and imagine what she would be doing right now if she had been free to accept Aunt Abby’s invitation to come and spend several months with her, pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor.  Her mother’s illness and subsequent death had aborted all those plans.  Carrie had become the mistress of Cromwell Plantation.   How many times she had longed to walk away from her responsibility and follow her dream.  There had been time before the war had started to simply tell her father he must hire a new overseer - then she could have moved to Philadelphia and started her education.  Knowing she was where she was supposed to be sometimes did nothing to ease the pain of her situation. 

             
She had struggled earlier when she had walked home from the quarters.  She was excited Opal was going to have a new beginning in Richmond.  She had had to fight a creeping bitterness that nothing new was on the horizon for her.  Only laughing at herself had finally helped her to gain perspective.  How could she be jealous of a slave?   No matter what Opal did in Richmond, she would know she was a slave.  Carrie had to keep reminding herself she had options.   She could leave the plantation any time she wanted to.  She knew her father would understand.  It was her choice that kept her here.  She could either make the best of it or continue to grumble. 

             
Reaching into her dressing table drawer, Carrie pulled out a thick sheaf of letters.  Turning the lantern up a little brighter, she flipped page after page of letters Aunt Abby had sent her.  Their correspondence had been a saving grace for her as she had struggled to fulfill her responsibilities and duties on the plantation.  Now even that had been taken away.  Lincoln had ordered all mail service halted between the warring states. 

             
Now, more than ever, Carrie yearned for a good long talk with her friend.  Was she making the right decisions?  Carrie knew Aunt Abby would give her no answers.  But she would ask all the right questions so that Carrie could examine her heart clearly and know what she really believed, what she really wanted, and what would be the best course of action.  Sometimes it was so difficult to see a situation clearly when she was immersed in it.  She could so easily lose sight of the goal when the surrounding problems pressed in so tightly they obscured her view. 

             
Oh, God......
   

             
It was sometime later when Carrie lifted her head, sensing the peace that she could find only in talking with God.   Her reflection from the huge, ornately gilded mirror on her wall flickered back at her.  Slowly, she began to run the brush through her hair once again.  She would take one day at a time.  She would do the best she could.  She could do no more.  And no more was expected of her.   Carrie’s heart would almost fail her at times when she tried to look far into the future.  But one day at a time.  Most of the time she was sure she could make it through just one more day. 

             
Gazing more deeply into the mirror, Carrie smiled at her reflection.  As the soft breeze swirled around her, once more she tried to fathom the secrets and mysteries hidden in the mirror.  She had sensed them there ever since she had been a young girl.  She would spend hours staring into its clear depths, trying to imagine what secrets her great-great-grandmother had bestowed upon the mirror, and whether she, her great-great-granddaughter, would be found worthy to know the secrets.

             
Carrie knew the heritage the mirror had bequeathed to her.  She knew that it stood as a six-foot-tall, gilded symbol of courage and determination - and the will to carve the life she wanted out of impossible circumstances.   It had stood as a challenge before her all of her life.  Each night it spoke to her - urging her on to be all she could be - to not give in to the circumstances of life. 

             
Tonight it spoke to her once again.  But in a different way.  The mirror issued the same challenge as always, but then as she stared into it, it seemed to offer back the courage she would need to meet those challenges.  The flickering lantern light, tossed about the room by the billowing of her long drapes, seemed to sink deep into the mirror and then come shooting back out at her, offering more radiance on its way out than on its way into the depths.  Carrie sat quietly, absorbing the strength and courage it was offering her tonight. 

             
She felt awed, sensing that she had discovered one of the secrets of the mirror.  If she could see herself reflected in the mirror and feel comfortable and confident about the condition of her heart, then the mirror would reach out and give her the strength necessary to follow the dictates of her heart. 

             
Smiling softly, Carrie reached over to lower the wick on the lantern.   Moving over to her bed, she slid gratefully under the covers.   She sighed as the soft warmth of the bed welcomed and cradled her tired body.  Just as she rolled over to bury her head in her pillows, a burst of song reached across the night and crept through her window.  Carrie sat up to hear more clearly.  She knew it was from the quarters.  On certain nights, when the breeze blew just right, the sounds of the Cromwell Plantation people singing would rise to her window.  Closing her eyes, she listened closely. 

             
Swing low, sweet chariot