Storm Clouds Rolling In (57 page)

Thank you for telling me a little about Robert.
He sounds like a wonderful young man. You mention an issue that you are afraid will keep you apart. You do not reveal what it is, but my heart holds a pretty good guess. Regardless of what it is, you need to decide whether you can spend the rest of your life with a man who disagrees with you on an issue important to you. You have to ask yourself just how important is it to you. Is it something that could create a wedge that would drive you farther apart? Do not marry thinking that marriage itself will change someone. God is the only one who can change people when they are ready to be changed. Robert sounds like a very special and unique person. It is much to his credit that he supports your dream of being a doctor. But I wonder...how will you be a plantation wife and a doctor all at the same time? Ask yourself many questions while you are still free to ask them.

I fear this letter is becoming too serious.
Alas, the condition of our country seems to warrant such seriousness. One bright spot! Recently, the society received a letter from Harriet Masters and some of the other slaves in her little group. They are alive and well in Canada. All of them have found work and are rejoicing in their freedom.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Take good care of yourself.

Affectionately,

Aunt Abby

Carrie finished the letter with regret.
She always hated it when they came to an end. She would have given anything to be able to sit down and have a long heart-to-heart talk with her friend. The ache to see her again had not diminished with time. She folded the letter slowly, slipped it back into her pocket, and rose to return to her mother’s room. She seldom left her alone now. She stopped at the door and looked out over the pastures. Granite was there, his head raised, staring at her. She had not ridden since Robert had been there a month before. She was afraid to leave her mother.

Carrie hurried up the stairs to her mother’s room.
She was still sleeping peacefully when Carrie settled down on the chair next to the window. She picked up her notebook and once again began to scan the voluminous notes she had taken when she and Sarah had been on their jaunts. She did not want to lose any of the information just because their hunts had stopped
. It be too late in the year for any of the magic plants to still have any healin’ powers,
Sarah had stated firmly two weeks ago
.
Carrie closed her eyes and envisioned the shelves in the root cellar full of old Sarah’s magic.

A rustle caused her to open her eyes.
Her mother was staring at her with an odd expression on her face. “Hello, daughter,” she said softly.

“Hello,
Mother.” Carrie rose, moved over to the bed and took her hand. They talked very little now. It seemed to take too much of her mother’s strength.

“Will you prop me up on the pillows, please?”

Carrie instantly obliged her, glad to see even this tiny bit of interest in life.

Abigail continued to stare at her with that odd expression on her face.

“What is it, Mama?
Is there something wrong with how I look?”

Abigail blinked and shook her head.
“No. I was just thinking how much I love you. How proud I am of you.”

Carrie tried to control the surprise she was sure showed on her face.
She supposed she had always known her mother loved her—even when they were completely at odds with each other—but it had not been since she was a little girl that she had heard it come from her lips. She didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then her voice strengthened. “I love you too, Mama.”

“I know,” Abigail said softly.
“I need to tell you something—” A spasm of coughing interrupted her words. It was several minutes before she regained her breath.

“Mama, you need to rest.
Let me lay you back down,” Carrie urged.

“No.”
Abigail shook her head with more determination than Carrie had seen in months.

Hope mingled with a vague uneasiness as Carrie stepped back.
What had given her mother this new lease on life?

Abigail smiled gently and reached out to take Carrie’s hand once more.
“I know you’re not like me, Carrie. I’ve tried...” She faltered. “I’ve tried to turn you into a proper plantation mistress, but I know I have failed.” Her words were softened with a smile. “You’re different than me, Carrie. That bothered me for a long time. I wanted us to be alike. I wanted you to want the same things I did. I was wrong,” she admitted with a wry expression.

Carrie stared at her mother.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“What is it you really want, Carrie?”

Carrie hesitated and then decided to speak her heart. “I want to be a doctor.”

Abigail nodded and smiled again.
“I figured you would want something that impossible.”

Carrie laughed.
It felt good to have her mother know the truth. She had hidden it for so long. Suddenly, she felt a gentle pressure on her hand and looked down into her mother’s eyes.

“Follow your dreams, Carrie.
You are special. Don’t let anyone steal those dreams from you.” Exhausted, Abigail closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Mama,” Carrie whispered.
She knew she would always carry those words—words she had thought she would never hear—close to her heart. Abigail’s eyes fluttered open again. “Robert Borden loves you.”

“I know.”

“Do you love him, Carrie?” Abigail’s voice, though weak, was intense.

Carrie struggled for words to express her feelings.
“I love him, Mama, but I’m not sure that is enough.” Her mother watched her steadily. “In so many ways he is perfect—everything I have ever dreamed of. But there are things that stand between us.”

“Such as?”

“Such as my desire to be a doctor. Robert dreams of turning Oak Meadows into another Cromwell Plantation. You know how I feel about being a proper plantation mistress. Our dreams may be too far apart.”

Abigail frowned.
“I would think two people who truly love each other could figure out a way to make both their dreams come true. I admit that I don’t really understand it—I never wanted anything but what your father wanted—but surely there must be a way.”

Carrie shrugged.
“There is something else, Mama.” She was determined to be honest.

“What is it, dear?”

Carrie hesitated, not sure how to proceed. “There is one very important thing we disagree on.” She faltered and then plowed ahead. “Mama, I don’t think I believe slavery is right.” There, she had said it.

Abigail frowned and shook her head slightly.
“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure I do either,” Carrie admitted.
“All I know is that Robert and I fight every time we get near the subject.” Memories of Aunt Abby’s letter rose in her mind. “I’m not sure I can spend the rest of my life with someone who believes so differently from me.”

Abigail peered into her eyes.
“I’m trying to understand.” Her face revealed her confusion.

“I know you are,” Carrie said helplessly
, “but I’m not sure I understand it myself yet. How can I expect you to understand?”

Abigail stared at her intensely.
“I just know Robert Borden loves you. The same way your father loves me. I hope you find a way to each other. I want you to have that kind of love.”

Carrie nodded, her throat suddenly constricted by the look of love on her mother’s face.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she leaned down and gave the frail form a gentle hug. “I love you, Mama.” When she stood back up, her mother’s eyes were closed. She walked quietly back over to the window.

Her mother wasn’t done however.
“Carrie?”

Carrie spun from the window.
“Yes, Mama?”

“Will you do two things for me?”
Carrie nodded. “Will you get your father...and then will you promise me you’ll go for a long ride on Granite?”

Carrie stared at her, unsure of what to say.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Abigail smiled. “I want you to enjoy it. You’ve spent too much time up here with me in this little room. You’ve been so wonderful. But today…today, I want to know you’re outside with Granite.” Her voice was strong and firm.

There was a light in her eyes that Carrie hadn’t seen in a long time.
Suddenly, hope sprang into her weary heart. Maybe her mother had finally turned the corner. Her mind raced as she thought of all the herbs she could use to strengthen her frail body. “Alright, Mama,” she assented joyfully. “I’ll get Father and then I’ll go for a ride.” She moved over and planted a gentle kiss on her mother’s brow. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Borden!”

Robert had just mounted his horse, and now he turned around impatiently. He was on his way to the first drill for the Goochland County cavalry unit he had founded. It had irked him to see all the militia units marching the streets the last time he had been in Richmond. More than anything, he wanted to see the country remain united, but if the worst came, he hadn’t changed his mind. He would fight. It had been easy to find eager young men like himself who wanted to be prepared for any contingencies.

“What is it, Jacobs?” he asked tersely as his overseer reined in his blowing horse.
Robert looked with disapproval at the horse’s heaving sides.

“Two of your slaves are missing, Mr. Borden,” he said tautly.

Robert went rigid in his saddle. “What? Are you sure?” he asked tightly.

“I’m sure, Mr. Borden.
Two slaves are missing from White Hall down the road, too. Michaels down there thinks they are together. They used to all be from Oak Meadows, but you sold the two men a couple of years back. The two women missing from here are their wives.”

“How did they get away?” Robert asked angrily.
“Where were you?”

Jacobs flushed but didn’t look away.
“I was doing my job, Mr. Borden. You told me to take the men and clear off the bottom field. When I got back, they were gone.”

Robert cursed and his face twisted with anger.
Immediately, he was eleven years old, seeing his father ride off to hunt down the nigger who would kill him. He took a deep breath. “Get the dogs, Jacobs. We’re going after them.” His voice was deadly calm.

Jacobs stared at him and nodded.
“I’ll be right back with the hounds, Mr. Borden. Them niggers can’t be far.”

Robert didn’t hear him.
He was already planning the chase. He vaulted off his horse and ran into the house. Minutes later he reappeared, patting his waist to make sure his pistol was secure. All thoughts of the Goochland Calvary Unit had fled his mind. Only one thing was important. To catch those slaves and teach them the lesson once and for all that they were no more than animals.

Carrie leaned back against the log in her special place and took deep breaths of the brisk afternoon air.
Grateful for its warmth, she hugged her cloak around her body. The vibrant red, orange, and yellow hues of the trees filtered the sunlight and cast a golden glow over the clearing. It was wonderful to be there. Carrie tried to think of the last time she had been alone. Unbidden, memories of her last time there rose in her mind and flashed across her eyes as if it were actually happening. Robert holding her gently... Telling her he loved her… Her stopping him... Carrie shoved the thoughts back firmly. The combination of Aunt Abby’s letter and her mother’s words had made her realize she could no longer run. The time was now.