Glimmers of Change Read online

  Glimmers

  Of Change

  1866

  Book # 7 in The Bregdan Chronicles

  Sequel to Carried Forward By Hope

  Ginny Dye

  Glimmers of Change

  Copyright 2014 by Ginny Dye

  Published by

  A Voice In The World Publishing

  Bellingham, WA 98229

  www.BregdanChronicles.net

  www.GinnyDye.com

  www.AVoiceInTheWorld.com

  ISBN #978-1503282902

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the Publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Jan

  You inspire me every day!

  A Note from the Author

  My great hope is that Glimmers of Change will both entertain and challenge you. I hope you will learn as much as I did during the months of research it took to write this book. No one was more surprised than me when it ended up portraying just first 8 months of 1866. The first 5 books of The Bregdan Chronicles each covered a year. That hasn’t been possible with the last two books.

  When I ended the Civil War in The Last, Long Night, I knew virtually nothing about Reconstruction. I wasn’t even sure it could carry an entire book. Just as with Carried Forward By Hope, I’ve been shocked and amazed by all I learned as I researched and wrote Glimmers of Change.

  Glimmers of Change is perhaps the most difficult book I have ever written. I think you will understand just why it was so difficult by the time you are done, and why I shed so many tears during the research for this book.

  Though I now live in the Pacific Northwest, I grew up in the South and lived for eleven years in Richmond, VA. I spent countless hours exploring the plantations that still line the banks of the James River and became fascinated by the history.

  But you know, it’s not the events that fascinate me so much – it’s the people. That’s all history is, you know. History is the story of people’s lives. History reflects the consequences of their choice and actions – both good and bad. History is what has given you the world you live in today – both good and bad.

  This truth is why I named this series The Bregdan Chronicles. Bregdan is a Gaelic term for weaving: Braiding. Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad. That is the Bregdan Principle…

  Every life that has been lived until today is a part of the woven braid of life. It takes every person’s story to create history. Your life will help determine the course of history. You may think you don’t have much of an impact. You do. Every action you take will reflect in someone else’s life. Someone else’s decisions. Someone else’s future. Both good and bad.

  My great hope as you read this book, and all that will follow, is that you will acknowledge the power you have, every day, to change the world around you by your decisions and actions. Then I will know the research and writing were all worthwhile.

  Oh, and I hope you enjoy every moment of it and learn to love the characters as much as I do!

  I’m already being asked how many books will be in this series. I guess that depends on how long I live! My intention is to release two or three books a year, each covering one year of history – continuing to weave the lives of my characters into the times they lived. I hate to end a good book as much as anyone – always feeling so sad that I have to leave the characters. You shouldn’t have to be sad for a long time!

  You are now reading the seventh book - # 8 (Shifted By The Winds) will be released in the Spring of 2015. If you like what you read, you’ll want to make sure you’re on my mailing list at www.BregdanChronicles.net. I’ll let you know each time a new one comes out so that you can take advantage of all my fun launch events!

  Sincerely,

  Ginny Dye

  Chapter One

  January 1, 1866

  Carrie stiffened when she heard rustling in the thick brush. She stopped on the path and strained her ears, peering into the darkness, forcing herself to breathe naturally. She scolded herself when silence echoed back at her. “What do you think is out here?” she muttered. “You know these woods like the back of your hand. It’s probably nothing more than a rabbit or a raccoon.”

  Her voice seemed to crack the brittle cold stealing her breath. The fog pouring from her mouth seemed to hang frozen. She clutched her coat to her more closely, grateful she had put on two pairs of riding pants after she had crawled out of her warm bed, evading Robert’s groping hands before he rolled back over and continued sleeping. Her husband had looked so warm and inviting with his black, tousled hair spread over the pillow, but her desire to greet the new year had propelled her down the stairs and out through the back kitchen door, closing it softly so no one would be disturbed.

  Shaking her head at her imagined fears, Carrie forced herself to continue moving down the barely visible trail. Stiff frost crackled under her feet as frozen branches pulled strands of her wavy black hair out of the careless bun she had created. She would be back in plenty of time to look presentable for the New Year breakfast celebration.

  Within minutes the path opened into a small clearing, leaving behind the sheltering embrace of the woods. Carrie caught her breath as she looked up into the canopy of stars spread above her, the tiny orbs glistening and dancing in the frigid air, the belt of the Milky Way holding them close in what looked to be an endless cluster. “Good morning,” she whispered. The still air echoed back her soft words, a tiny sliver of dark blue appearing on the horizon as dawn advanced to claim the day.

  Carrie turned away and headed for the concealed path that would take her down to the river, her heart suddenly beating faster with anticipation, her lips curved into a smile. She had welcomed the New Year at this same spot since she was ten years old and learned how to miss all the creaking boards as she snuck out of the house. Her father had laughed when she returned that first morning, her eyes sparkling with the fun of her adventure. Her mother had been horrified at more evidence of her independent, wayward daughter and proclaimed it would never happen again. Carrie had not missed a year after that.

  She found the spot but paused and stared in the direction of Richmond. Yes, she had missed years. All the years of the war that kept her from home rose up in the darkness and threw painful memories into her mind and heart. Carrie shook her head impatiently and started down the path, not needing any light to navigate the gently sloping trail. She knew the memories and images would always be there, but today she had come to prepare for the New Year that lay ahead.

  She could hear the lapping of gentle waves as she broke out onto the shore and looked toward the boulder she always came to. Suddenly she stiffened, alarmed by the realization she wasn’t alone.

  “About time you got here.”

  Carrie laughed in disbelief and relief. “Rose?”

  “I hope you have a lot of clothes on. It is brutally cold. I’ve been rethinking my decision to join you,” Rose said ruefully, a slight tremor in her voice revealing how cold she was. “I could be home in bed with Moses,” she said wistfully. “He told me I was crazy to come, but then he pushed me out of bed so I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Carrie hurried forward and settled down on the boulder beside her best friend and half aunt. “How long have you been here?” she asked with delight.

  “Long enough to feel like a solid block of ice,” Rose replied, holding her coat even closer. Her voice was muffled by the thick s
carf wound around her face, leaving just enough space for her to peer out.

  Carrie chuckled. “Greeting the New Year sunrise is not for the weak of heart.”

  “It’s not for sane people,” Rose retorted.

  Carrie cocked her head. “We could definitely debate whether you fit that description, but I’ll let it go in the spirit of new beginnings,” she parried playfully. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “You’ve been doing this since you were ten years old,” Rose said smugly. “I bet you thought no one knew you came down here. I heard you from my room every single time.”

  “Why didn’t you join me before?” Carrie cried. Then she answered the question herself. “Because you were my slave and you didn’t know if you would be welcome.”

  “That was part of it,” Rose agreed easily, “but the real reason was that I didn’t see any point in leaving my bed when I was so warm.” She paused and gazed at the horizon that was beginning to glow. “This year is different, though.” Her voice sounded sad and little strained. The silence grew — the only sound came from the waves pulsing and whispering. “I don’t know when we’ll be together again,” she finally said.

  Carrie reached over and grabbed her hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just give up my dream of becoming a doctor,” she admitted. “It would be so much easier to stay here on the plantation with Robert and you and Moses. There are moments I can’t breathe when I think about being back in a city as big as Philadelphia, away from everyone I love again.” Her voice trailed off as tears flooded her eyes.

  “You’ll have Janie,” Rose reminded her.

  Carrie blinked back the tears and smiled as she thought of her close friend who stayed behind in Philadelphia when she had returned home for Christmas. She received a letter from Janie a few days before Christmas with glowing words that described living at Abby’s home and the three other women medical students who shared the house with her. Janie could hardly wait for her to arrive in the spring. “Yes, I’ll have Janie,” she agreed softly, “but no one can ever replace you. I always feel like a part of me is missing when we’re not together.”

  Rose gripped her hand tightly. “I feel the same way.” She stood abruptly and faced the glimmering horizon. “Enough of this,” she announced. “You’re not leaving for four months. It’s going to be a dismal winter if we spend every minute dreading being apart again.” She waved her arms toward the puffy clouds hovering above the stark tree line, just beginning to turn purplish gold. “I suggest we focus on making the most of every day we have. It’s not like it was during the war. It won’t be years and years, because you’ll be home every few months,” she said firmly.

  “Well said!”

  Carrie and Rose both jumped when another voice rang out into the cold air.

  “Abby?” they said in unison.

  “Who else would be crazy enough to come out here when it’s this cold?” Abby shivered dramatically as she stepped forward to give them both a hug.

  “How did you…?” Carrie began.

  “Your father told me about your annual tradition,” Abby replied. “I had already decided to join you last night, but Thomas had to push me out of bed to actually get me here. I would have been down here earlier, but the idea of my feet hitting the cold floor kept me in bed longer than I should have,” she said ruefully.

  “Moses had to push me out of bed too,” Rose admitted.

  “Soft! You’re both soft,” Carrie scoffed. “Robert never even knew I left our bed.”

  “Rose and I decided years ago that you are the only truly insane one of the three of us,” Abby said agreeably. “We don’t let it bother us.” A thick scarf concealed her twinkling eyes, but her voice was full of warm laughter.

  Carrie laughed and grasped both their mitten-covered hands. Rose and Abby were the two strongest women she knew. Abby had been defying tradition for years. Rose had escaped slavery and become a fabulous teacher, wife, and mother. Both of them had survived the challenges and pain with their compassion and humor intact.

  She squeezed Abby’s hand tightly. “Have I told you recently how very glad I am you married my father and became my mother?”

  “I don’t keep count, because I’ll never hear it enough,” Abby replied joyfully. “When your father told me you would be down here for the sunrise, I knew I wanted to share it with you. To have Rose here too is just icing on the cake. I can’t believe I get to watch the sunrise with my two favorite women.”

  Rose laughed happily. “My feelings exactly!” She waved her hand at the horizon. “It’s time to get quiet and contemplative,” she said softly. “The sun is about to make its appearance.”

  The three women stood together, hands clasped, as the clouds turned from purple to a bright glowing pink, the still hidden sun shooting up shafts of light that pierced the clouds and turned the sky to a brilliant cobalt blue.

  Carrie leaned over and whispered soft instructions to each of them.

  Silence reigned as they watched the cobalt blue change to a brilliant turquoise, the clouds beginning to wisp across the sky as a light breeze began to blow. They pulled their coats closer against the cold, holding their breath in unison as the first sliver of sun peeked over the horizon, and in moments seemed to jump upward to claim a new day.

  Carrie laughed and raised her hands as the golden orb glowed down on them, Rose and Abby imitating her movement.

  “Happy 1866!” they yelled in unison. “Hello New Year! We’re so glad you’re here!”

  Carrie grabbed their hands again and began to spin them all in a circle. “I’ve always danced alone,” she cried. “This is so much better!”

  Laughter rang through the morning air as the three women danced joyfully, the sun pouring down on them, the lapping waves seeming to keep time with their dancing.

  The three women were laughing and talking as they ran into the kitchen, gasping with delight when the warm air enveloped them.

  “What you crazy women doin’?” Annie demanded. “Anybody with a lick of sense knows it be too cold to be outside this mornin’.”

  “Sense is highly overrated,” Carrie responded playfully. “Happy New Year, Annie!”

  “Hmph. You would certainly be the one to know ‘bout not havin’ any sense,” Annie scolded. “I declare, Carrie Borden, you do more crazy things den anybody I ever saw.” She eyed Rose and Abby. “And I bet she talked the both of you into whatever has your faces beet red and your hands shaking all over. Your husbands know where you be?” she demanded. “I know Robert done given up on changing Miss Carrie.”

  Rose laughed as she stepped forward to hug her mother-in-law. “We surprised Carrie down by the river for her annual tradition of watching the sunrise. It was glorious! Moses had to push me out of bed…”

  “Just like Thomas did,” Abby admitted, her eyes dancing.

  “But I’m so glad he made me get up,” Rose cried. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything!”

  Annie stared at them for a long moment, her eyes soft with affection. “Crazy. You three ain’t nothin’ but plumb crazy.” She waved her hand toward the table. “Take your coats off and hunker down next to the fire. I’ll have coffee ready in just a minute.”

  “We won’t mess up your preparations for the New Year breakfast?” Abby asked. “We don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Ain’t no bein’ in the way,” Annie replied. “Polly gonna be here in a few minutes. We done got plenty of time. Now,” she said briskly, “get out of them coats and get warm before you catch yourselves a cold.” She bustled over to the stove and picked up the coffee kettle. “Crazy,” she muttered again as she poured three cups of steaming brew.

  Abby held her hands toward the fire, smiling as the flickering flames chased away the last of her tremors. “I don’t believe anything in the world is better than finally feeling warm after you’ve turned into a block of ice,” she murmured. She reached for the thick mug Annie handed to her. “Thank you.”

  Silence fell on the
kitchen as Annie bustled about with preparations for breakfast. The only sounds were the crackling of flames and the clinking of pots and pans. Gradually, the smell of frying bacon and the warm scent of biscuits filled the air.

  Carrie gripped her cup tightly as she gazed into the flames, letting the warmth seep through every pore of her body. She tried to reclaim the sheer, exuberant joy she felt when the three of them danced in celebration of a new year, but reality insisted on intruding.

  “Carrie?”

  Carrie turned when Rose’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Yes?”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “That was an awful big sigh,” Abby agreed.

  Carrie flushed. “I didn’t realize I made a noise.” She stared into the flames again for a long moment and then looked at them with troubled eyes. “1866 is going to be a hard year,” she said bluntly. “It’s fun to celebrate it arriving, but I’ll admit I’m afraid of what it’s going to bring.”

  “Harder than the war years?” Abby asked, reaching over to take her hand. “I know you suffered so much more during the war than Rose and I did.”

  “We all suffered,” Carrie answered. “Everyone in the country suffered — just in different ways.”

  “Then…?” Rose asked softly.

  Carrie gazed back at the flames, wishing some spark of comfort would leap from the fire, but the cold grip of reality held her tightly. “I guess I don’t really think the war is over,” she finally murmured.

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Carrie.”

  The three women looked up as lanky, red-haired Matthew Justin walked into the kitchen. “Good morning!” they said in unison.

  He sniffed appreciatively as the warm aromas hit him. “Do you think a starving man could have a before-breakfast biscuit?” he asked hopefully, reaching his hand toward the basket.