Storm Clouds Rolling In (36 page)

“Oh!” she exclaimed in delight.
The band of clouds hanging on the horizon earlier had taken on a life of their own as the sun slowly lowered in the western sky. The fluffy cumulus had exploded into an orchestra of vivid orange and purple hues, catching the waning sunrays and sending them shooting off into a million shafts of glimmering light. The buildings of the city stood out in stark contrast, their manmade grandeur suddenly diminished in the face of such an awesome display of grandeur.

Carrie quietly absorbed the beauty exploding before her.
She was aware of Robert by her side but knew no words were necessary. He would know what this display was doing to her. The surety of her knowledge caused her heart to beat even faster. She had never credited any man other than her father with being able to understand her. Right now she quite simply didn’t understand herself
.
She tried to lose herself in the sunset again, standing quietly until the bank of clouds had once more turned dark. Only then did she look at Robert. “Beautiful.”

“Beautiful, indeed,” Robert murmured.

Carrie blushed when she realized he wasn’t speaking of the sunset. “May we sit down for a while?” she asked suddenly. The beauty of the sunset had somehow accentuated the cruel horror of the auction house. She was yearning to talk to Robert about it. Surely he would understand how she felt.

Robert responded by sinking down on the front step of the church.
             

“Robert?”
Carrie’s voice was troubled.

Robert turned immediately.
“What is it, Carrie?”

Carrie knew by the tone of his voice he understood something was troubling her.
She smiled at him gratefully. “I’ve needed to talk with someone about today...” Her voice faltered. Robert sat quietly and waited. “I went to a slave auction today,” she finally stated.

“A slave auction” Robert exclaimed.
“How in the world did you end up there?”

Carrie shrugged.
“I was walking down Franklin Street with my servant, Miles—”

“He allowed you to go into such a place?” Robert interrupted with flashing eyes.
“He shall be flogged!”

Carrie turned to him, outraged.
“Nothing of the sort will happen. Miles tried to talk me out of it. I made him go with me.” Her anger was mixed with confusion. Why was Robert talking about flogging? Surely he didn’t do things like that?

Robert took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward to gaze into her eyes. “Did someone attempt to harm you?”

“No,” Carrie said hastily.
“Nothing like that happened at all.” She shuddered. “It was just so horrible.” She could tell Robert was confused.

In halting words, Carrie relived the experience for him.
Tears flowed freely down her face when she told of how Hannah had been separated from her husband and all but one of her children. “It was horrible, Robert. It made me feel sick inside. I’ve been troubled about it ever since.” She wiped her eyes, stared off at the darkening outline of the city, and waited for Robert to respond. The silence stretched between them.

Carrie finally looked up.
Dismay filled her heart at the uncomprehending look on Robert’s features. Nothing was said for long minutes as she stared into his eyes. She had wanted so much for him to understand.

Robert finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a low laugh.
“Well, at least you know to stay away from Franklin Street now.”

Carrie turned from him in frustration.

Robert shook his head and rubbed his hand over his eyes.
“I don’t know what to say, Carrie,” he admitted.

Carrie turned to him with a pleading look.
“You can’t possibly think it was okay for the family to be separated like that?”

Robert shrugged.
“They’re slaves,” he said simply.

“But they’re people!”
Tears came to Carrie’s eyes as Hannah’s beseeching face filled her mind.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Carrie turned to Robert, angry, but unsure of the source of her feelings. “Whatever do you mean?” Not even her father had ever said slaves weren’t people. She had hoped Robert’s years in the North would make him a little more sympathetic.

Robert struggled to explain.
“They inhabit bodies the way we do, but they’re not people like you and I. They’re a lower order of species. Their destiny is to serve those who have greater favor with God.”

“Meaning white people.”

Robert nodded. “Without our supervision, the slaves of the South would revert back to the primitive way they lived in Africa. For what it is worth, being slaves has raised them to a slightly higher level. They should be grateful.”

This was nothing Carrie hadn’t heard all her life, yet everything in her was rising up to fight it.
“Would you be grateful if you were suddenly ripped away from your wife and children? Sold to the highest bidder?”

Robert shook his head and his tone became condescending.
“They’re
slaves,
Carrie. They are simply fulfilling their destiny. It is necessary to do what we must—all of us. Destiny is a hard taskmaster, even when quietly and philosophically obeyed. When resisted and denounced it becomes a tyrant that tramples under foot.”

“Those are my father’s words.”
Her mind traveled back to the night she had first met Robert.

“And very true ones,” Robert said firmly.

Carrie stared into the distance. She couldn’t ignore the raging of her heart. “I’m questioning everything I have ever believed,” she said slowly. “I don’t see slaves as animals to be sold off. I don’t believe they are people on a lower order than us...” Her voice trailed off as she envisioned the faces of the Cromwell slaves. She knew the shine of intelligence in their eyes. She knew the abilities they possessed and utilized for her father.

“It’s fine to try and make the world into what you want it to be, Carrie,” Robert replied
, “but it doesn’t change reality. The slave is no better than an animal. We need them like we need our horses and the pigs on the plantation. We need them because they serve a purpose. But that’s all. Slaves quite simply aren’t people.”

Carrie turned and stared.
She hardly recognized the face twisted with anger, or the voice hardened with hate. She could think of nothing to say. She simply stared and made no attempt to hide the revulsion on her face.

Robert whitened under her gaze. Then he jumped up from his place on the stairs and began to pace back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the church.
He swung to face her. “You asked me one time what happened to my father. I’m going to tell you.”

Carrie was a little frightened by the desperation in his voice, but she sat quietly and watched him.

Robert turned his back on her and stared over the city. “I was eleven years old when there was a slave revolt in Goochland. A number of slaves from every plantation tried to escape. Some of them got away. Most of them were caught in the swamps, confused and lost. They didn’t stand a chance against the dogs and the superior intelligence of the overseers and owners.” The contempt in his voice chilled the night air. “Barns were burned and property was destroyed. It was late at night when the leaders of the revolt were captured and brought back. There was only one thing to do with them. Kill them. Make sure they could never lead another revolt.”

Robert paused, remembering.
“My father didn’t know I had followed them into the woods. I was hiding behind some trees so I could see what happened. They brought the ringleader up to the tree where the rope was hanging. He was so big—much bigger than my father. He was also sullen and arrogant, and it made my father angry. I saw him go up to him once they had the rope around his neck. They had broken that nigger’s arms...” His voice trailed off as the pain of his memories seemed to engulf him.

Carrie listened with wide eyes, sickened by the thought of that slave standing there with broken arms waiting to die.
She was also filled with sorrow at the pain she heard in Robert’s voice. She leaned forward to hear his next words delivered in little more than a whisper.

“My father was standing in front of him with a knife when that nigger lunged off the platform.
Somehow...” Tears choked his words now. “Somehow, that nigger got the knife and killed my father. Came right down on top of him in the clearing. It took two men to get him off.” Sobs racked his body for a long moment. “I never told anyone what I saw. It was bad enough for my mother. Her husband was dead and nothing was going to bring him back.” Robert struggled for control, but could not hide the hatred in his voice. “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for the niggers. I didn’t ask for them to be brought to this country, but they’re here. I’ll treat them well because financially it makes sense. But I’ll never see them as anything but the animals they are.”

Carrie stared at his rigid back.
She knew she had to say something. “Robert,” she began softly, “I’m sorry about your father. That was a horrible thing to happen.” She stood and moved next to where he was staring out over the city.

Slowly, Robert emerged from the past and became aware of Carrie beside him.
He reached out and took her hand. She left it there, confusion jumbling her mind and heart. Long minutes passed.

“We’d better be getting back, Robert.
My father will be worried.”

Robert nodded.
“Of course,” he murmured. Then his voice strengthened. “I’m sorry to have made you listen to that story.”

“Hush,” Carrie interrupted.
“An experience like that cannot be buried forever. I’m glad you told me.”

Robert nodded slowly.
The magic had flown out of their evening. They turned and headed back the way they had come.

Carrie stared out her hotel window.
She had given up on sleep long ago. Her restless thoughts would afford her slumber. She and Robert had walked back to the hotel in virtual silence. Each of them had tried a couple of times to break the silence with casual conversation but had quickly realized the futility of their efforts. Neither could find escape from the heaviness of their hearts.

Carrie sighed as she relived Robert’s story of his father’s death.
She could only imagine the pain and terror a little boy of eleven would feel. She could clearly see the pain that still engulfed the man. Yet she could find no basis there for hatred of black people. Hatred of the one who had killed his father she could understand. The sweeping hatred of an entire race she could
not
understand. Neither could she accept it. For in acceptance, she would offer unspoken agreement with his beliefs. Where once she would have shrugged it off and gone on about the business of growing up, now she found herself staring into the reality of what it meant to be a woman—a woman who must know her own mind and heart on an issue that could divide her from the ones she loved most.

As she stared out the window, Carrie
honestly faced the realization she had come to on the long walk back to the hotel. Her struggle with her beliefs about slavery could well alienate her from the ones she loved. She wasn’t sure she loved Robert Borden. She knew her heart had yearned for him when they were apart and he had been the one she most wanted to talk to when she was confused. That it had blown up in her face could not be denied. The bitter reality was that she could not think of one friend who would support the way she was thinking now.

“Carrie?”

Carrie froze when her father tapped lightly on the door.
He had been talking with friends when she had come in, and she had made no attempt to talk to him. She just made sure he saw her so he would know she had returned. It was no surprise he was checking on her. He knew her better than anyone. Surely he had seen the confusion and pain etched on her face when she had come in.

“Carrie?”
Once again Thomas called her name softly. Then she heard his footsteps move down the hall. She loved her father but knew he wouldn’t understand her right now either. Carrie groaned softly as she dropped her head into her hands. Why couldn’t she just go on like before? Why did she suddenly have to question all she had ever known? She preferred her earlier years when she just rolled through every day, content simply to be a plantation owner’s daughter. Why did she suddenly want more than the plantation could offer? Why couldn’t she just be content? It was so easy before.