Shifted By The Winds (13 page)

Abby knew what he was doing. She turned to him as soon as the two men entered the house.

“You’ve had a difficult day,” Thomas said tenderly, pulling her down on the porch swing with him.

Abby leaned into him, letting the moist, cool air envelop her. “It’s become a much better day,” she murmured.

Thomas pulled back to gaze at her, his eyes dark with concern. “I could tell you were tense all day. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that a little May therapy didn’t take care of,” she said lightly. Thomas listened closely as she explained more fully.

He gripped her hand when she talked about her fears, and smiled when she revealed what May had said. “So your words came back to you.”

“They did,” Abby agreed. “I had no idea how wise they were at the time.”

Thomas chuckled. “It’s good to be surrounded by people who love us enough to tell us the truth.”

“You’ve changed so much,” Abby said quietly as she snuggled closer, grateful for his solid warmth as the cool breeze washed over them.

Thomas considered her words and then nodded. “You’re surprised I would say that about someone who used to be my slave.”

“Yes. I know how different you are, but sometimes I’m so proud of you I feel I could burst.”

Thomas smiled. “Sometimes I can hardly remember the person I used to be. I never want to forget how far I’ve come, though. It’s going to take so many people changing, just as I have, to make things better.” He gazed out at the rain as a loud rumble of thunder rose above the pounding on the roof and pulled Abby close.

Abby sighed with contentment. She knew nothing would stop the storms, but she also knew she wasn’t alone.
 

Dinner was a cold meal of vegetables straight from the garden. Thick slices of plump tomatoes joined a large platter of cucumbers soaked in vinegar brine. Carrots and radishes stored in the root cellar filled another platter. Thick slices of bread and ham completed the feast.

Silence fell on the table as everyone devoured the food. Marietta and Marcus had joined them just before May placed the food on the table. A cool breeze still swirled the curtains, but the storm had passed. Sunlight had broken through the clouds perched on the horizon, turning them a glorious dark purple, but darkness was falling swiftly. It promised to be a refreshing evening—the first Richmond had known in many weeks.

As the last morsels of food vanished from the platters, the kitchen door swung open again. May, a broad smile on her face, carried another platter to the table. “Since that rain cooled things off, I decided to give all of you a special treat.”

“Strawberry shortcake!” Matthew exclaimed, licking his lips with anticipation.

“You spoil us,” Thomas said, grinning as he reached for his plate.

A fluffy biscuit had been cut in half, slathered with butter, and topped with a thick strawberry sauce. The melting butter streamed down into a yellow pool already being soaked up by the hot biscuit. The strawberries were sliding down to join it, mingling the rich flavors. The aroma filled the room.

“Miles picked these strawberries earlier today,” May said with satisfaction. “I was going to give them to you cold, but then decided to make a sauce.”

Jeremy took a big bite and rolled his eyes. “It’s like a gift from heaven,” he said enthusiastically.

“Great!” Marietta said with a mock scowl. “How do you expect me to keep him happy after we’re married, May? I am a great teacher, but I’m a lousy cook!”

“I’ll suffer through it,” Jeremy teased, his eyes bright with love. “It also helps that my father made me learn how to cook when I was growing up. It was either that, or starve. He was a terrible cook! I celebrated on the nights his parishioners brought over food, but the rest of the time I was the source of our meals.  If your cooking is too terrible, I’ll be able to step in.”

Laughter rolled as the dessert quickly disappeared.
 

“I have news,” Matthew announced. Silence fell on the table as everyone turned to him. He paused, enjoying the moment of anticipation. He could hardly wait to get here and tell everyone. “I heard from a publisher in New York City today. They want to publish
Glimmers of Change
when I have it written.”

“That’s wonderful!” Abby cried.

Everyone else quickly added their congratulations.

“What did you send to convince them?” Marietta asked.

Matthew smiled. “I told the story of a little girl who watched as both of her parents were murdered, and is now being raised by a black couple who loves her like their own.”

“Felicia,” Abby murmured.

“Yes. It is a compelling story of how disaster can be turned around by people who care and who choose to do the right thing.” Matthew paused. “I evidently convinced them I could fill a book with many more stories. They agree with me that all the negative things happening in our country need to be balanced with some of the good things.” He grinned. “It will be a joy to write.”

“And to read,” Marietta said warmly. “It will be a gift to so many people.”

“I’m also going to continue working for the
Philadelphia Enquirer
,” Matthew revealed. He understood the silence that fell. Everyone present had seen his struggle when he returned from the riot in Louisiana. “New Orleans was terrible,” he said, “but being on the plantation for the last three weeks has been so good for me.”

“Not to mention Janie agreeing to be your wife,” Jeremy said slyly.

“That too,” Matthew agreed happily. He was counting the minutes until he was with her again. He looked around the table, so thankful for the people who surrounded him. “The riot in New Orleans is something I will never forget, but hiding from what is going on in our country is not the answer. I am going to put most of my focus on telling the good things, but I have to balance it with the bad if I truly want to make a difference. I have to stay in the thick of things.” He glanced at Abby apologetically. He knew how much she worried about him.

Abby reached out and covered her hand with his. “Of course you do,” she said. “You have reached your limit before, Matthew, but your determination to tell the truth has always pulled you back. I didn’t expect it would be any different this time.”

Matthew smiled ruefully. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me, or how
long
you have known me.”

Abby squeezed his hand tightly. “I wish to God none of us would ever have to experience things like what you went through in New Orleans, but I’m afraid this is just the beginning.”

Matthew gazed at her, trying to read her expression. Thomas had told him he was concerned about the growing tension in his wife. He didn’t see any of that now.

Abby smiled, seeming to read his thoughts. “It would be so nice if we could all hide away from the hatred and bigotry, but I know that’s not possible.” She took a deep breath. “I’m done being afraid.” She locked eyes with May, who had come in to clear the table. “May reminded me that I can’t walk around what is happening in our country. I can only walk
through
it. We all have to shift with the winds.” Her gaze swept the table. “That’s all any of us can do.”

A somber silence fell on the table.

Marcus cleared his throat. “I guess this is a good time to talk about the Black Militia we’re forming.”

“Things are getting worse?” Thomas asked.

Miles, who had been gone for most of the day, walked into the dining room just in time to hear Marcus’ announcement. “I’m sorry to be getting back so late, Mr. Cromwell,” he said.

Thomas nodded. “Tell us what you found out.”

Abby looked at her husband sharply. She had known Miles was gone all day. She didn’t realize until now that Thomas had sent him on a mission.

Miles exchanged a long look with Marcus and then settled in at the table. He accepted the cup of coffee May handed him with a grateful smile, but waved off the food. “I’ll eat later,” he said. “I’ve been through most of the black quarter today,” he announced. “In the last month, fifty-two homes have been burned. At least one hundred men have been beaten, and at least forty women have been raped.”

Abby gasped and covered her mouth.

Miles glanced at her. “I’m real sorry, Miss Abby…”

Abby shook her head. “We have to know the truth,” she managed.

Miles nodded gravely. “It’s gonna get worse,” he said. “The vigilante groups are growing. Not just here in Richmond, but everywhere. They’s determined to stop black folks from having the rights President Lincoln gave us.”

“That’s why we’re forming the militia groups,” Marcus growled angrily. “We’re not going to sit back and let it happen anymore. There are a lot of black men here who fought for the Union. We have weapons.” His eyes narrowed. “We know how to use them. We’re going to make folks think twice before they come down to hurt us.”

Abby bit back a protest. She hated the thought of more violence, but she also knew things would only get worse for the blacks if they did nothing. The Richmond government was either powerless to stop what was happening, or they simply didn’t care. It made her sick to realize it was probably the latter of the two.

Abby gazed at Matthew. “Please tell me something is going to happen in Congress to change the situation in the South.”

Matthew nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “President Johnson has virtually lost all power with Congress.”

“What about the National Union Convention that met earlier this month?” Thomas asked. “I was hoping you would be able to give us news of that.”

“I can.” It gave Matthew a deep sense of satisfaction to know that his series of articles after the riots in Memphis and New Orleans had played a part in changing the mood of the country. “The convention was called with the hope that President Johnson’s friends who are fond of his pro-South Reconstruction policies could rally support for him.”

“Please tell me it failed,” Jeremy pleaded.

“It failed,” Matthew assured him. “About seven thousand prominent politicians and activists attended the convention.” He glanced at Marcus, aware he wouldn’t have been privy to much national news before the end of the war. “The National Union Party was the name used by the Republican Party during the war. They wanted to stress the national character of the war and make it more than just a North-South thing. Unfortunately, it was also this thinking that resulted in President Johnson being our vice presidential nominee. Since he was from Tennessee, the hope was that more people would rally behind the ticket during the elections.”

“It worked,” Marcus commented.

“Yes,” Matthew agreed with a scowl, “but it also backfired when Johnson became president.” He took a deep breath as he pulled his thoughts together. “This latest convention was an attempt to maintain a coalition of Johnson supporters. They tried to bring together moderate and conservative Republicans, as well as defecting Democrats.”