After the Rain: My America 2 (3 page)

Pa looked away. He seemed hurt and surprised. Jane Ellen seemed surprised, too. I excused myself from the table, saying I was too tired to eat a plate of old beans again. "Why can't we ever have peaches or pears?" I said.

I felt ashamed lying on the sofa. I tried to talk my way out of it. I told myself I'm tired of being the cheerful one all the time.

December 24, 1864

While I dusted, I listened to the Porter children chat again. This time, they were talking about visiting the President's House. They spoke about Tad Lincoln as if he were their friend. Tad is only ten and goes everywhere with his father. I have never seen Tad.

B
ut I wish now with all my heart I knew him. I wish with all my soul I was him.

Never before have I wished to be someone other than myself. The Porter children have put me under a strange spell.

December 25, 1864

A snowy Christmas day. Jane Ellen stayed in bed. Pa forced himself up. He asked me if I would like to go with him to Finley Hospital tonight. He wants to play his violin for the wounded soldiers.

Later

At twilight, Pa and I tread through the wet snow and mud to the hospital. I could tell that his back ached with every step.

On the way, sleigh bells jingled on
Pennsylvania Avenue. I heard children laughing. I thought I saw the Porters ride by. Or some other family just like them. A rich, happy family.

As we entered the hospital, I heard the cries and groans of wounded soldiers. I dreaded seeing them all.

I kept my eyes down as we entered a ward. Pa stood in a corner and began to play his violin. As "Silent Night" wafted through the cold, drafty room, the cries ceased. I saw tears stream down the face of a lady nurse.

As Pa kept playing, angels seemed to calm the air. The room became warm with a deep, holy feeling.

On our walk home, I felt the angels were still with us. I heard no sleigh bells or didn't notice. For a short while, I felt peaceful and happy just to be myself.

Drizzly rain.

Hundreds of guns boomed in Franklin Square this morning. Jed told us the city is celebrating General Sherman's conquest of Savannah, Georgia. He thinks the war will end by spring.

December 27, 1864

The Porter children went home today.

I watched the servants carry their trunks out to their carriage. They received many gifts from their grandmother for Christmas. One was the very copy of
Swiss Family Robinson
that I had been reading to her.

They received other books as well --
The Tiger Prince
and
Life in the Woods.
Sarah and
Eliza left in fur-lined cloaks. Robert carried away new skates and a sled.

After they rode away, Mrs. Porter went up to her bed to lie down.

When I got home, I went straight to bed, too. Jane Ellen sat by me and stroked my hair. She asked me what was the matter, but I didn't tell her about the Porter children and their books and ribbons and dresses.

I just said I didn't feel well. When she said, "Where do you hurt?" I answered angrily, "All over!" Then I turned my face to the wall.

She seemed to understand that I did not want to talk. Forgive me, God, but my life seems quite small compared to that of the Porter children. And now I'll never know the ending of
Swiss Family Robinson.

Tonight Jane Ellen declared that we were all too gloomy. She tried to cheer us up by saying we must think of a name for the baby.

We each suggested a few names, but we found none that all could agree upon. The conversation dwindled away, for I fear our hearts were not in it.

December 29, 1864

Mrs. Porter was still resting in bed today, so I left work early.

On my walk home, I finally saw the sight I've been waiting for -- President Lincoln riding his gray horse! And Tad at his side on his own horse!

I recognized them at once when I saw all
the soldiers guarding them. The soldiers held sabers over their shoulders.

The President looked grave as he rode by. His dark eyes stared straight ahead. His face seemed even more deeply lined than when I saw him in Gettysburg.

I caught only a glimpse of Tad. He was laughing at something and looked quite happy. I was seized with such a yearning to be Tad Lincoln that I could scarcely breathe.

When I got home to our dreary rooms, I went straight to bed without hardly a word to anyone.

Never has my own family looked more tattered and wanting.

December 30, 1864

Tonight a crowd in the street was singing "When This Cruel War Is Over." Only
half-listening, I thought they were singing "This Cruel World," and I'll admit I did not think it strange.

December 31, 1864

We are all together tonight. Jane Ellen served a special dinner of turkey for New Year's Eve. Jed says everyone believes 1865 will most certainly bring about the war's end.

We should be happier about this, I think. Perhaps it is the gray, rainy weather that keeps us all in such a state of melancholy.

January 1, 1865

Tomorrow, Jed, Pa, and I are going to the New Year's reception at the President's House. All the public is invited to shake hands with the President.

I will look for Tad Lincoln. I have a great urge to see him again. I consider him the luckiest boy alive.

Some nights I yearn so much to be Tad that I cannot even sleep. I shiver with cold in my bed and imagine myself riding on horseback with the President.

January 2, 1865

Everyone in the world wanted to shake the President's hand today. Pa, Jed, and I did not even get close to him. Thousands of men, ladies, and children pressed forward. The crush was so great that some were hurt.

We went home, sorely disappointed. Jane Ellen was cheered later to hear that a number of Negroes were able to meet with the President. They all exclaimed, "God bless Abraham Lincoln!"

The President is pushing for a change to the Constitution that will end slavery once and for all.

January 4, 1865

A huge snowstorm today. Freezing cold. Fighting the wind on the way to Mrs. Porter's, I almost wished I could lie down and die.

January 9, 1865

Each day, I see more deserters from the Confederate army. Jed says many have nowhere to go. On my way home this evening, I passed one who appeared to be frozen stiff. He was lying in an alley with no shoes or hat. His eyes closed, his face blue.

I wondered about my mother's two younger
brothers. Were they fighting as Rebs? Where are they now?

Does one lie somewhere on the cold ground? Or are they buried underneath it?

I wish Pa had stayed in touch with my mother's family after her death. Now we'll never know who -- or where -- any of them are.

Jed seems to feel as I do. Two days ago, he carried an old blanket out to a Reb sleeping on the ground near our house. He said the man could be our kin for all we know.

January 17, 1865

I have not written in my journal lately, for there has not been much to write. Mrs. Porter left last week to visit her son's family in New York City. Her maid went with her. Her elderly
manservant stayed here, but he keeps to himself. I go to her house each day. But I do little more than dust and polish and embroider. In my free time, I sometimes move about the house, pretending I am Mrs. Porter's granddaughter.

January 19, 1865

I keep playing the game of pretending to be Mrs. Porter's granddaughter. When the fantasy wears thin, I stare out a window and daydream about her real grandchildren.

What exciting things are they doing now in New York City? I imagine they live in a fancy mansion and ride in sleighs and go to a fine school and many parties.

Every time I look at photographs of them, a strange gr
ief stabs my heart. I wish their
beautiful mother was mine. And their father, too, I sometimes wish was mine. Forgive me, Pa.

January 26, 1865

It is one of the coldest winters on record this year. None of us can seem to get warm. I see Pa shivering even when he is standing close to the fire.

January 30, 1865

The paper says that the famous orator Edward Everett has died. I remember him speaking at Gettysburg. I thought his speech would never end.

Now I feel a bit sad, longing for those days when we were building our lives again after the terrible battle. There was hope in the
air and a feeling that we ourselves had been heroes.

Today, our family seems tattered in comparison to how we were then. Pa is so distant and seldom speaks. Jane Ellen is in bed constantly and has little good humor or happiness to share. Jed feels guilty for everyone's plight and stays late at work on purpose, I think. And I am feeling quite cross and mean.

What has happened to us? And to our great adventure in Mr. Lincoln's Washington?

January 31, 1865

Jane Ellen got up from bed today. She wrote to her Negro friend, Becky Lee, in Gettysburg, to tell her congratulations.

Congress has voted to pass the Thirteenth Amendment to abolish slavery. Now it must go to the states for something called
"ratification." Then it will be the law of the land. Becky Lee will soon be legally free forever.

Amen, says Jane Ellen.

How, I wonder, could a people have ever allowed slavery? The evil of it seems so clear. I can only think that, throughout history, most children have held doubts about slavery in their hearts. But children become used to the customs of their time and place. As they grow older, they forget their doubts and follow in the footsteps of their parents and grandparents. Now, for the first time, our whole nation is about to start down a new path together.

February 1, 1865

I saw an interesting ad in the paper today.

It said, "How can you find wealth and good fortun
e? Find out from Madame Masha at
402 K Street. For ten cents, she tells the future and gives good advice to young and old."

I would love some good advice. More than that, I would love to know my future.

February 6, 1865

I was paid today for the last two weeks of work. As usual, I handed my money over to Pa -- all except ten cents.

Pa did not notice, for he never counts what I give him. It hurts his pride too much. He just drops the paper in the cookie jar without looking.

I kept the ten-cent paper note so I can go see Madame Masha, first chance I get. I do not feel guilty about keeping the money from the others. I am desperate for advice on how to find wealth and good fortune for all of us.

Today, Pa sent me to the store for bread. I hurried and bought the bread. Then I ran all the way to 402 K Street. I tapped on Madame Masha's door, and she let me in.

She wore a beautiful lavender dress. She had a red scarf tied around her hair. And sweet-smelling candles burned throughout the room.

She asked me why I had come. I told her I needed to know how I could find wealth and good fortune.

Madame Masha looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment. Then she picked up my hand and studied my palm.

"Ah, this is serious," she said. "You have allowed the goddess Envy to attack you."

Horrified, I asked what she meant.

She said wherever Envy strikes, the sun no longer shines. All flowers die. One feels cold and cannot sleep.

"That's right," I whispered. Madame Masha knew exactly how I'd been feeling since I'd met the Porter children!

She said the goddess Envy had placed a nest of thorns in my heart.

I quickly put my hand over my heart, for it hurt even as she said this.

What can I do? I asked.

She told me I must banish Envy completely. I must post guards at the doors to my heart and mind. I must not let Envy enter again, she told me. Not for an instant.