Storm Clouds Rolling In (45 page)

TWENTY-TWO

Carrie walked slowly by Aunt Abby’s side, savoring the smells and sights of the marketplace. Just like so many things in Philadelphia, this was a new experience for her. Fruits and vegetables were all grown on Cromwell Plantation. She had always taken the abundance for granted. It was a new experience to see the myriad varieties spread out under the tin roofs of the market, vendors hawking their ware as zealously as Southerners sold tobacco. Elegantly dressed women, along with more commonly dressed house servants, poked and examined the produce until they found what met their discriminating tastes. Huge baskets hung heavily on their arms as the fresh food threatened to overflow. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. The throng of people crowding the aisles had chosen to come early before the searing July heat made staying in the house with a cold glass of lemonade much more appealing than strolling among the market stands.

“I’m glad you came with me, Carrie.”

“Oh, so am I, Aunt Abby. This is absolutely fascinating.” Then Carrie sighed. “I’ve had such a wonderful time. It’s going to be so hard to go home tomorrow.” She knew the hardest thing was going to be leaving Aunt Abby. She had grown to love her deeply. “I can hardly believe it’s already been a month.”

“I’m going to miss you, Carrie.”

Carrie brushed at the tears welling up in her eyes as she turned to the older woman. “I’m going to miss you, too.” She paused. “You’ve become like a mother to me. I love my mother, but...” She shook her head. “She has no idea what to do with a daughter like me, so her goal in life has become to change me so I will fit the mold she has made for me.”

“That would seem a plan destined for failure,” Aunt Abby observed dryly.

Carrie managed a laugh. “I’m afraid I’m quite a disappointment to her.”

Abby looked directly into her eyes.
“I’m sure your mother loves you very much. At some point in time she will become comfortable enough with herself to accept you just the way you are. In the meantime, you can be nothing but who God created you to be. Some people will be comfortable with it, others will not. The important thing is that you be comfortable with yourself.”             

Carrie nodded, knowing she spoke from experience.
“Thank you, Aunt Abby. I’ll do my best.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two women.
Abby picked up a head of lettuce and two tomatoes. “I’m done here, Carrie. We’ll go home a different way. Since it’s your last day here, you might as well squeeze in everything you can.”

Heat was already beginning to radiate off the pavement as the two women strolled down the road.

“Did you get what you came to Philadelphia for, Carrie?” Abby asked.

Carrie looked at her quickly. She would not even consider dodging the question. She trusted Aunt Abby. “I think so,” she said slowly. “Matthew was wonderful to show me around the school. I know college and medical school are what I want...”

“But...?”

Carrie shook her head firmly. “No buts. I’m just not sure of the timing. I was disappointed when we found no one to talk to at the college— especially another female. Matthew encouraged me, but also warned me it would be difficult.” She paused and thought back to the intense longing she had experienced when she was walking the tree-covered sidewalks of the university. Her desire to learn had been fueled by the spirit of those who had gone before. Even though she hadn’t seen any other women, she could feel them urging her to join their ranks in breaking the status quo. It had both scared and exhilarated her. “I will talk with my father about it when we get home. I know he will support me and, in the end, he will have mother make a show of supporting me too.”

“Your father sounds like a very special man,” Abby said thoughtfully.
“He is obviously a very wise man— and also a brave one. It is hard to go against tradition. Especially for a man.
Especially
when it is his daughter going against the tradition.”

“My father is wonderful.”

“But...?”

Carrie laughed.
“Does there have to be a but with everything I say?”

Aunt Abby shrugged.
“No, but when I hear one I’m going to ask.”

Carrie looked at her and smiled.
She knew she would never have to worry about Aunt Abby saying what was on her mind. They rounded the corner and started down a long street of brick row houses. The postage stamp yards still fascinated her, but they held no drawing power. She loved city life, but the freedom of her childhood would always demand more space for her restless spirit. She would feel caged in one of these yards.

“Aunt Abby, do you believe slavery is right?” Carrie asked suddenly.
She had wanted to ask that question for the entire month. She had let dances, the theater, museums, and luncheons occupy her time, but the thought had never been far from her mind. She had talked to her new friend about endless topics but had always managed to avoid the one most troubling her.

Abby took a deep breath, stopped walking, and turned to gaze steadily into her eyes.
“’What do you think?”

Carrie shook her head.
“Not this time,” she said firmly. “I know I have to make my own decision about this, but I really want to know what you think and believe.”

Abby took Carrie’s arm and led her to a bench underneath a spreading maple tree.
Once they were seated, she gazed, deep in thought, at a large brick building across from where they were sitting. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “I am a member of the Philadelphia Abolitionist Society.”

Carrie was speechless.
She could do nothing more than stare at the woman across from her. Aunt Abby was an abolitionist? Abby waited patiently. Finally Carrie spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have mattered?”

Carrie pondered the question.
Would
it have mattered? Would it have changed the fact that their hearts had bonded so closely? Would it have kept her from loving this woman who had become like another mother to her? “I don’t know,” she said slowly. She caught the flash of hurt on Abby’s face, reached out a hand, and took the other woman’s in it. “It wouldn’t have changed how much I’ve grown to love, admire, and respect you even one iota.”

“But...?”
Aunt Abby made no attempt to hide the laughter in her eyes when she asked the question that seemed to have become a kind of code between them.

Carrie managed a laugh.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” She couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice.

Abby paused.
“You are struggling with the slavery issue yourself, aren’t you?” When Carrie nodded, she continued softly. “How could I expect you to confront how I feel about the issue, when you are running from how
you
feel about it?”

Carrie stared at her, slightly stunned by Aunt Abby’s words.
“How did you know?”

Aunt Abby laughed gently.
“It’s an old trick I once used quite often. I recognize it easily. I seemed to always have this absurd hope that if I ignored an unpleasant situation long enough it would go away. I found it usually only became more difficult.”

“That’s true,” Carrie agreed, looking down at the ground.
“How long have you been an abolitionist?”

“For ten years.”

“You don’t talk like Alex Morning.”

“Heaven forbid!” Abby exclaimed.
“I should certainly hope not.”

“But do you feel the way he does?”

Abby paused for a long moment.
“Carrie, I hate slavery. I hate what it does to people—both blacks and whites. I believe it means misery and suffering for the black people who are slaves. I believe it means a lowering of the selves God made us to be for the white people. Both are a tragedy. But I don’t hate slave owners.”

“Why not?”

Abby seemed to struggle for words. “I believe slavery has become a trap for everyone involved in it. A terrible process, with terrible consequences, was put into motion when the very first slave set foot on American soil. We were a people dedicated to the equality and freedom of everyone, yet we chose to deny an entire race of people that for which we founded this country. We have sought to ignore our conscience ever since. The only way white people can continue slavery is by convincing themselves that black people are a lesser people than they are. By doing so, I believe they make
themselves
the lesser people. Black people are in bondage by no choice of their own. White people are in bondage because they choose to follow their own sin and deception.”

Carrie fought to make herself listen. Part of her knew Abby was speaking truth
, while another part wanted to throw the words back in her face.

Abby smiled sadly.
“Carrie, only God can show you the truth about slavery.”

“But God says slavery is right!”
She couldn’t identify why she was supporting something she had grown to abhor.

“Does he?””

“Of course he does. I’ve heard preachers give sermons on it many times. They say the Bible supports our owning slaves.”

Abby spoke softly.
“
My
church preaches that slavery is a sin and that the Bible clearly teaches against it.” She continued. “Carrie, have you read the Bible for yourself? Do you know what it says?”

“My father says that’s what ministers are for.
To tell us what the Bible says and then to interpret it.” Carrie’s voice rose in stubborn defiance. She could not explain why she was close to tears. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she forced them back.

Abby edged closer.
“Carrie, listen to what I am about to say.” Her voice, though low, was more intense than Carrie had ever heard it. “This has nothing to do with our differing beliefs about slavery. It has everything to do with how you’ll make decisions for the rest of your life.” Abby waited several moments for Carrie to regain control. “Carrie, the church is made up of people. The ministers who stand and preach the word of God are nothing but people. Yes, many of them have been called by God to serve in that way, but they are still
just people
. And people make mistakes. People, even ministers, form opinions and beliefs based on their own experiences and their own interpretations. How else can you explain two men—both ministers of God—standing in their pulpits delivering vastly different messages about the same issue?”

Carrie leaned forward now, intent on every word coming out of Aunt Abby’s mouth.
Somehow she knew this was critically important.

Abby continued.
“Both men obviously believe what they are saying enough to preach it to whomever will listen. But, Carrie,” she said earnestly, “those men are
not
God. Only God holds the real truth. And I believe he will give it to anyone who honestly seeks and asks questions. The Bible says ‘all who seek me will find me.’ It is good to listen to what people have to say. Listen, and then examine it. Read the Bible yourself and then ask God to show you the truth. That’s the only truth you can stand on—the only truth that will not falter when attacked by others around you.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“Yes,” Abby said flatly, her eyes kind, “and that is exactly why most people are merely sheep being led by the person who steps forward claiming to be their shepherd. It’s much easier to be blindly led along. They echo sentiments put forth by someone else without knowing God’s mind, and certainly without knowing his heart.”

“Alex Morning said slavery is of the
Devil,” Carrie stammered, dismayed by the increased chaos in her heart.

Abby looked into Carrie’s eyes.
“If something is not of God, then who is it of?” she asked softly. She didn’t give Carrie time to answer. “Alex Morning was very wrong that night. I may think some of the things he said were true, but his method did more harm than good. He was every bit as wrong as the thing he was attacking. When people fight something with hate and anger, they close the doors to actual change because they close the doors of the person’s heart they are trying to change. Carrie, I believe slavery is wrong, but I also believe many of the methods used to end it are also wrong because they employ hatred.”

“Like John Brown?”

Abby nodded vigorously. “Like John Brown. I sympathize with his heart and his desire to see people set free, but hatred and murder are not the ways to accomplish it. In the end he walked away from the love of God and chose his own ways.” She paused again, obviously deep in thought. “I wish there were a painless way to end slavery—a painless way for both blacks and whites. I have come to the conclusion that it is not possible. The minute man decided to do away with another man’s freedom, the wheels were set in motion that would insure a painful ending for the one who began such a system. The South has grown to depend on slavery. That doesn’t change the fact, however, that people’s freedom has been stolen from them. Which is more important?”

Carrie felt as if her head were going to burst.
Why, oh why, did this issue have to constantly haunt her?