All Things New (15 page)

“I suppose you know there are a good many other Yankees down here who are just trying to steal what they can from us, even though most of us have nothing left.”

“You may believe whatever you’d like about my motives, Miss Weatherly, but I don’t want anything from you or your family or even Harrison Blake—except forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

“For being part of the army that killed your fathers and brothers and husbands. Forgiveness for ruining your land and causing you sorrow and hardship. Forgive me for picking up a gun and going to war against you. And forgive me for living when so many others died.”

Josephine couldn’t reply. He was asking the impossible. Neither she nor anyone else in her family could ever forgive him. Could this be why her brother refused to talk to Mr. Chandler? And why Harrison would rather die than accept his help?

“The only way our anger and bitterness are ever going to fade is if we forgive each other,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

“I’m not only angry with you and other Yankees like you—I’m also angry at my father and my brothers for getting us involved in this stupid war in the first place. What was it all for? If I forgave you, I’d have to forgive them, too. And I’m not ready to do that.”

She was surprised by her own confession. She had never allowed herself to think such thoughts before. She was about to take back her words, saying she had spoken in error, when he asked, “What do you want, Miss Weatherly, for your life, for your future?”

Before she could respond, she heard Dr. Hunter’s voice behind her. “Miss Weatherly?”

She stood, bending to pick up Mr. Chandler’s jacket from the step and handing it to him. “Thank you for your help. Excuse me, please, Mr. Chandler.”

“Wait. Before you go . . . won’t you please agree to call me by my given name, Alexander? And may I call you . . . ?”

“Josephine.”

“Yes. Thank you, Josephine.”

She followed the doctor inside and into Harrison’s room. He was no longer tethered to the bedposts but lay with his eyes closed, looking more dead than alive. “I was able to stitch up his wound,” Dr. Hunter said. “Let’s hope it heals properly. But the bigger issue, I think, is that his spirit needs to heal.”

Josephine’s stomach turned when she looked at Harrison’s wrist. The wound was raw and purple, with black stitches like spider legs holding the two edges of skin together. Harrison’s mother would faint from horror when she saw him—not to mention all the blood. The bed sheets were a mess, the blood drying stiff and brown.

“Harrison and I talked,” the doctor continued. “I don’t believe he’ll try something like this again, but you never know.” Josephine could only stare at Harrison and at the mess, feeling dizzy again. The doctor rested his hand on her shoulder, bringing her back. “If you’ll fetch some soap and water, Miss Weatherly, I’ll help you clean up.”

“Yes . . . thank you . . . I don’t want Mrs. Blake to find out.”

“This is none of your business,” Harrison mumbled.

“Well, I care about her, even if you don’t,” Josephine said. “If she finds out, it will be as if you slapped her in the face and told her you hated her. I won’t let you hurt her that way, I won’t!” She felt the doctor’s hand on her shoulder again.

“She’s right, Harrison. I’m going to move you over to that chair for a few minutes so we can clean up your bed.” The doctor was not a large man and a head shorter than Harrison was, but he lifted him effortlessly and set him on the chair where Mrs. Blake usually sat. Harrison seemed too weak to resist.

Jo quickly stripped the sheets off the bed and crumpled them in a ball. The servants would have to boil them in lye soap, and even then the stains may never come out. She found clean sheets in the linen press and quickly remade the bed, knowing the doctor would have to leave soon.

“I’m going to bring you a wheelchair,” she heard him telling
Harrison. “Otherwise you’re going to get bedsores, lying here all day. I’ve already written to a friend at Chimborazo Hospital in Richmond, asking to borrow one. But there’s no reason at all why you can’t walk with crutches someday.”

“You expect me to limp around here like a miserable cripple?”

“You can learn to walk again, Harrison. Why not let the limp remind you of the courage you and the others displayed against enormous odds?”

Josephine offered to leave the room while the doctor helped Harrison change into a clean nightshirt. “Put a long-sleeved one on him,” she said, “so his mother won’t see the stitches.” She carried the ball of soiled sheets downstairs to the servants and returned with a basin of warm water, then helped Dr. Hunter wash Harrison’s face and arms. He didn’t resist. But she didn’t want to scrub too hard, and the black, caked blood around his fingernails wouldn’t come out.

“He’ll be very weak for a few days after losing so much blood, so he shouldn’t give you too much trouble.” The doctor washed his own hands and then rolled down his sleeves. “You have blood on your face, Josephine. Would you like me to stay with him a little longer so you can wash and change your clothes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She hurried from the room to ask the servants for more warm water as Dr. Hunter sat down in the chair to wait.

She would have to change into her Sunday dress. And she would have to think of a way to explain to Mrs. Blake why she was wearing it. Tomorrow she would go home and find something else to wear. This dress and her mirror would have to be thrown into the garbage.

The servant knocked on her bedroom door before coming inside to fill her washbasin and pitcher. “Everything all right, Missy Josephine?” Jo saw concern in Beulah’s eyes.

“I’m fine. Mr. Blake . . . had an accident. All this blood is his. But please don’t say anything about this to Mrs. Blake when she comes home. We tried to clean it all up so she wouldn’t see. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The water felt warm and soothing as Josephine splashed it on her face and neck and arms. She scrubbed her fingernails until they felt raw in order to get out all the dried blood. She felt so alone, weighed down beneath the weight of Harrison’s terrible secret. It would do no good to pray. God wasn’t going to help her. She would have to find another source of strength to keep moving forward. She should be used to this lonely feeling by now.

“It’s very kind of you to help the Blakes this way,” the doctor said after Josephine returned to the downstairs bedroom. Harrison was in his bed again, lying very still with his eyes closed. “Listen, Josephine. I can see that today’s ordeal has taken a toll. You look shaken. I hope you’ll try to get some rest this afternoon.”

“Yes . . . thank you. I will rest. Mrs. Blake has servants to do the cooking and cleaning now. The agent with the Freedmen’s Bureau made all the arrangements.”

“It’s good work that Mr. Chandler is doing. He’s a good man.”

“I wish my brother Daniel would listen to him. We could use more help at White Oak, too.”

“Who’s working your plantation?”

“No one, really. We only have one house servant and one field hand left, and he can’t possibly do all the planting. Daniel won’t ask for help, and so Mother is still carrying everything on her shoulders. She was here when Mr. Chandler explained about sharecropping, and she agreed it was a good idea, but Daniel won’t listen to her.”

“Would you like me to talk to him? I could stop by White Oak before I head back to the village, if you think he and your mother would be home.”

“Yes, I believe they are. Thank you.”

“I’ll let myself out.”

Josephine remembered Mr. Chandler’s question as she sat down in Harrison’s bedroom again. What did she want for her life, her future? She hadn’t had time to think about it or to answer him. But what did she want? Today her wish would be for all of the drama to stop. For everyone to stop complaining, to stop looking back at the past and to put aside all the bitterness—and just live.

And for her own future? Josephine was afraid to dream, afraid to name anything she might want such as marriage or children or a home of her own. She had learned to extinguish her feelings and not think about the future. Her only wish would be for the hole inside to go away, but that was probably as unrealistic as expecting the Yankees to bring back Mother’s rugs so the bare places on the floor would be filled again.

She suddenly remembered her broken mirror, remembered how Mr. Chandler—Alexander—had taken it from her and laid it aside on the front step. She had left it there where Mrs. Blake might see it.

Josephine hurried out to the porch intending to find it and throw it away, and to thank Mr. Chandler for his help. Had she remembered to thank him?

But the mirror was gone and so was Mr. Chandler.

15

Eugenia searched the morning room in vain, looking for the sterling silver bell she used to summon Lizzie. What had become of it? When she failed to find it, she was forced to walk all the way outside to the kitchen to fetch Lizzie herself. Eugenia wouldn’t be at all surprised if the girl had stolen the bell to avoid being summoned. She had always been one of the slowest slaves.

“There you are,” she said when she found Lizzie peeling potatoes in the kitchen. “Do you know what has become of my silver bell?”

Lizzie looked up with an expression of surprise. “Ain’t it on the table in the morning room?”

“No. I’ve searched everywhere for it. Are you certain you haven’t seen it?” Lizzie shook her head. If she had taken it, she was doing a masterful job of feigning innocence. “Listen, I asked you three days ago to rub furniture oil on the wooden stair rail and banisters, but I see the work still hasn’t been done. Did you forget?”

“No, ma’am. But Missy Mary needed me to fetch something for her this morning, and Massa Daniel needed a clean jug filled with water right away, and I had to get this soup cooking for dinner, and I ain’t even had time to wash the breakfast dishes. There’s hardly enough time in a day for me to do everything.”

Eugenia controlled her temper with great effort. Lizzie not only
had a bad attitude about her work, she failed to show the proper respect. “Well, leave what you’re doing and come take care of the wood for me right now.”

“What about these potatoes, ma’am? They’ll turn all black if I don’t put them in water.”

“I don’t care. Leave them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Were those tears in Lizzie’s eyes? Eugenia was trying to keep her voice calm and her tone undemanding, even though she had been taught to be unyielding and firm when dealing with slaves.
They aren’t slaves anymore
, Jo would remind her. Eugenia sighed.

“I’m not asking for the impossible,” she said as she led the way into the house. “Just simple, basic housekeeping duties to keep my home from deteriorating any more than it already has.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Was she wiping a tear?

Eugenia kept a close watch on Lizzie for the next few minutes until she was certain she had found the beeswax, furniture oil, and a clean rag, and had begun to work. The stairs were right outside Philip’s study, where Daniel was visiting with his friends Henry Schreiber and Joseph Gray. The two young gentlemen had both shown an interest in Mary as she’d greeted them at the door an hour ago. Heaven knows Eugenia couldn’t wait for Lizzie to come and open the door for their guests, so she had sent Mary to greet them and entertain them with polite conversation as they’d waited for Daniel to come up from the stables. It had occurred to Eugenia that either of these men would make a wonderful match for Mary. Young Mr. Gray in particular came from a very fine family.

As Eugenia stood in the foyer, keeping an eye on Lizzie, she decided to take a moment to speak with the men. She rapped lightly, then opened the study door. Daniel and Joseph were reciting the names of local planters and their sons while Henry wrote them down on a list. “Excuse me for interrupting,” she said, “but I thought I would say hello.” They jumped to their feet to greet her like proper gentlemen. She waved them down into their seats again. “How is your family doing, Joseph?”

“I won’t lie, Mrs. Weatherly, things have been hard on all of us. My father even talked about selling our land, but we won’t let him.”

“Please tell your mother that I would love to see her. In fact, why don’t you bring her along the next time you come? Your mother should come, too, Henry.”

“Thank you,” Joseph said. “She would like that. She doesn’t get out very much.”

“What are you gentlemen up to today? It sounds like you’re writing a guest list for a party.”

The men exchanged glances like conspirators. “Oh, it’ll be a
party
, all right,” Joseph said with a sly wink.

“Better than the last one,” Daniel said before turning to Eugenia. “No, Mother, we’re planning for the protection of our community. This is a schedule of men who can take turns patrolling the roads at night the way we did before the war.”

“Why would you need to patrol the roads? We don’t have runaway slaves to recapture anymore.”

Joseph sat forward in his chair. “The situation is worse now, Mrs. Weatherly. Now we have vagabond Negroes wandering all over the area at night. We need to send a message that we intend to protect ourselves and make sure the slaves remember their place.”

“People are afraid to travel the roads alone, even in daylight,” Henry Schreiber added. “The Yankees and their occupation army aren’t doing anything about it, so it’s up to us to protect our families and our property.”

“Remember that shantytown in the woods that everyone was so afraid of? We broke it up.” Joseph grinned in satisfaction. “We warned them not to camp there anymore, or else.”

“Well, if they’re no longer living in the woods, where did they all go?” Eugenia asked.

“What difference does it make?” Joseph shrugged. “They’re gone and that’s all that matters. Our women can ride past the woods now without being afraid for their lives.”

The news upset Eugenia. If Philip were alive, he would have searched for a better solution than the one these boys had found.
“Did it ever occur to you that we may have been safer when we knew where they were living? Everyone knew to avoid that area at night. Now the Negroes could be hiding anywhere. And looking for revenge against the men who drove them off.”

“You let me do the worrying, Mother. You don’t need to concern yourself with such matters anymore.”

Her son was dismissing her, brushing her off. He had the nerve to believe that by sitting in Philip’s chair, he now had more wisdom than her years of experience with slaves. She stood up straight, lifting her chin.

“I am not a shrinking violet, Daniel. Nor do I worry unnecessarily. Who do you think has been running this plantation in your absence, standing up and protecting our home after your father died? I have remained brave throughout the war, and I am perfectly capable of looking out for my own safety now with a loaded pistol.” She took another step into the room, moving closer to the men. “I’m not worried about the Negroes. But what does worry me is the fact the planting isn’t getting done.”

Daniel spread his hands. “What do you expect me to do without slaves?”

“You could very well hire them to work for you like Priscilla Blake did. It seems to me that if the Negroes are working hard and have their bellies full, they won’t be discontented or roaming the roads at night.”

Daniel gave her a patronizing smile. “I know how brave you were during the war, Mother. But you can leave all the decisions to me now.”

Eugenia was about to react to being given the brush-off a second time when she heard the sound of a horse approaching out front. “Are you expecting someone else?”

“No.” Daniel stood and looked out the window. “It looks like Dr. Hunter.”

“Excuse me,” Eugenia said. “I’ll see what he wants.” She needed to leave the room and allow her temper to cool before she had another spell. She could feel the telltale pressure beginning to build
behind her breastbone, and she couldn’t afford to have an episode in front of her son. As it was, he obviously thought of her as weak and incapable of giving sound advice.

Before opening the front door, she glanced up the staircase to make sure Lizzie was still working and saw that she was partway to the top. “Don’t be too sparing with the furniture oil, Lizzie, or the wood will dry out again in no time.” Eugenia checked her appearance in the foyer mirror and saw an unpleasant frown on her face. She made a conscious effort to replace it with a smile before opening the door. “Good day, David. What brings you to White Oak?”

He finished tying his horse to the rail before removing his hat and walking toward her. “I was just visiting the Blakes’ plantation and Josephine asked me to stop by.”

“Is everything all right? Are Priscilla and Harrison well?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying, “As well as can be expected.”

“Please, come inside. I’m sorry I have nothing to serve you—unless you’d care for some chamomile tea.”

“No, thank you.” He followed her into the foyer looking rumpled and weary, as if he had remained awake all night or had slept in his clothes. Perhaps he had. “I just spoke with Josephine. Your daughter is doing a commendable job of helping out over there, but she is wearing out, Eugenia. She needs a rest and a chance to get away for a few days. I told her she should consider returning home now that Mrs. Blake has help.”

“If that’s why you’ve come, tell Josephine it’s fine with me. I’m not forcing her to stay.”

“Good. But that’s not the only reason I came.” He glanced around as if to see who might be eavesdropping, then said, “Josephine also asked me to talk to Daniel about getting more help for you here at White Oak. I understand you’re aware of the work contracts the Freedmen’s Bureau is arranging? Everything seems to be going very smoothly at the Blakes’ plantation so far.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Could I talk to Daniel about it? Is he home?”

“Yes, he is. Please come this way.” She led him into Philip’s study, listening as the men greeted him and offered him a seat. Eugenia knew she should leave and let the men talk in private, but she didn’t want to. Dr. Hunter supported everything she had just told Daniel, and she wanted to make sure her son knew that. Maybe Daniel would heed the advice of a man.

She stood by the door, listening as Dr. Hunter explained what he had just seen at the Blakes’ plantation. Eugenia couldn’t resist adding, “We were just talking about putting the slaves back to work here at White Oak, weren’t we, gentlemen?”

“I believe it would be in everyone’s best interests,” the doctor concluded, “to give the bureau’s plan a chance.”

Daniel scraped back his chair as if he was about to leap out of it. “This so-called Freedmen’s Bureau is from Washington, right? Do you honestly expect us to trust anything the U.S. government does? The name alone should tell you the bureau is looking out for the Negroes, not us. For all we know, we could be signing our life and our land away with one of their contracts. The Yankees would take everything, and we’d have nothing!” Daniel’s friends muttered their agreement, looking as angry as he did.

The doctor held out his hands, as if trying to soothe everyone. “It’s time to let go of the attitudes and opinions that started the war in the first place. Where did it get us? Everything has changed and we need to change, too.”

“No. What we need to do is kick the Yankees out of Virginia for good,” Daniel said, “not take orders from them. They’re encouraging the slaves to take over. The Yankees don’t have our experience with Negroes. They don’t realize that they were better off with the way things used to be. Slaves are like children. They need guidance and hard work to keep them out of trouble. They can’t plant crops by themselves and run their own farms any better than a child could.”

“And the Yankees are wasting everyone’s time with that school,” Joseph Gray added. “In the first place, those slaves will never be
able to learn a thing. And in the second place, what good will it do them if they do learn to read and write? Negroes can’t do the same jobs as white men. Have you ever heard of a Negro physician, Dr. Hunter? God created them for hard labor, and that’s all they’re good for.”

“That’s simply not true,” Dr. Hunter began, but all three boys began talking and arguing with him at once, drowning out his words.

Eugenia was growing more and more upset as she listened. The opinion that Daniel and his friends expressed was what she had always believed to be true, yet it sounded so cold and harsh coming from them. “I share your low regard for Negroes in general,” Eugenia said when the men finally quieted. “But Philip always believed we were better off—safer, in fact—if we treated them with fairness and looked out for their welfare instead of enraging them by our cruelty. Now that they’re free, what makes you think they won’t retaliate if we don’t make an effort to get along with them?”

“I heard some of those vagrants saying they’re sticking around here because of the free school,” Joseph said, ignoring her question. “We need to close that place down so the Negroes will have to move someplace else.”

“Violence isn’t the answer,” Dr. Hunter said. “Haven’t we learned that lesson yet?”

“This new government agency isn’t the answer, either,” Daniel said. “It’s nothing but a Yankee trick to give the Negroes the upper hand. They want us to let our guard down. Well, I’m not signing away my plantation or letting them sharecrop my land.”

“But nothing is getting planted!” Eugenia said. “How will we live?”

“If those slaves get hungry enough and start needing a warm place to live this winter, they’ll come running back to us, begging for work. We don’t need any Yankee interference.”

Her son’s stubbornness infuriated Eugenia, and she longed to shout at him to make him listen. Her gold coins were nearly gone, and her jewelry, too. They would have nothing left to live on if
Daniel didn’t start planting crops and raising animals soon. Did he want them all to starve? But she could barely breathe, let alone shout at him. The pressure and pain in her chest had surged beyond her ability to control them, and she needed to leave the room and sit down somewhere before anyone noticed that she was ill. She stumbled toward the door, feeling light-headed, holding on to the doorframe, the wall, a bookcase to steady herself. She was nearly across the foyer to the safety of the parlor when she heard the doctor’s voice behind her.