Storm Clouds Rolling In Page 37

  Robert moved over and enfolded her in his arms. Carrie rested her head on his broad chest and allowed the tears to come. She had been holding so much. Great sobs wracked her body as the tensions and fears of the last three months finally found an outlet.

  “I’m sorry,” she gulped as she gradually regained control.

  Robert put a finger to her lips. “Hush. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who is sorry that I live so far away. I wish I was closer and could be more support for you and your father.”

  Carrie continued to rest her head on his chest. Moving slightly, she allowed her arms to encircle his lean waist. She needed his comfort and strength so badly. They stood that way for a long time. On the river, a stronger breeze was kicking up white caps, turning the azure water a steel gray.

  “Carrie...” Robert’s voice caught and he cleared his throat roughly. “Carrie, I need to tell you something.”

  Carrie suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. There was something in his voice. She began to pull back so that she could see his face, but his arms tightened to hold her where she was. She waited to see what he would say.

  Robert took a deep breath. “Carrie, I’ve known from the first day I met you that I love you.” His voice was strong and confident. “I....”

  “Stop.” Carrie pushed herself away and reached up a soft hand to touch his lips.

  “But why?” Robert protested. “I...”

  Again, Carrie raised her hand to stop him. “Give me time,” she pleaded softly. “There is so much going on right now. So much to deal with...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him in mute appeal. He would be hurt by the suggestion that his love was just one more thing to deal with. But their dreams were so different. They were miles apart on critical issues.

  Robert gazed at her. Finally, he nodded. “All right, Carrie. But, someday...”

  Carrie smiled in gratitude. “Someday,” she agreed.

  Robert forced a smile. “If we don’t want to be very wet soon, we’d better head back.”

  Carrie turned and saw the dark bank of clouds scudding their way. “Oh, my goodness!” She watched, fascinated, as the increasing wind whipped up higher waves on the James and then turned to where Granite waited patiently. In moments they were on there way. When she reached the edge of the clearing, she turned for one final look. This would always be her most favorite place on earth. She hated to think that anything could ever separate her from it.

  “Hey, Moses!”

  “Yeah, Sam?” Moses turned from where he was mending some boards that had torn away from the well house during a storm the week before.

  “Miss Carrie just came down and said her Mama be running a mite of fever again. She asked me to bring up a tub of ice from the ice house, but I done pulled somethin’ in my back this mornin’. I need you to take it up to her.”

  Moses nodded and turned away. “I’ll have it right there, Sam.” Moses smiled slightly. This would be the first time he would see the inside of the big house. Field servants didn’t usually have a reason to be there. It only took a few minutes to fill the tub.

  Sam chuckled as he opened the back door for him. “I wish you was around all the time. You make that heavy tub look light as a baby. Those arms of yours look more like tree trunks.”

  Moses smiled and headed in the direction Sam pointed. Just as he reached the doorway he saw Mr. Cromwell and Robert, deep in conversation, walk up the stairway.

  Moses was close behind them, but they didn’t notice.

  “Remember what I told you on the train, Robert?”

  Robert chuckled. “What I remember is that you almost told me something on the train,” he said dryly.

  Thomas smiled in return and then grew sober. “You’ll soon understand why I couldn’t say anything. I’ve decided it’s time, though. I may not get another chance, and I want someone else to know the secret.”

  Moses raised his eyebrows and walked a little quieter. They still hadn’t noticed him. At the top of the stairs, he turned the way Sam had told him and carried the tub into Mrs. Cromwell’s room.

  “Thank you, Sam,” Carrie murmured, not looking up from applying cold rags to her mama’s head. “I won’t need anything else for a while.”

  Moses turned and left the room. He could hear the murmur of voices down the hall. Moses turned down the hall toward the voices, making no sound as he crept forward. He knew he would be beaten if he were found. He just knew something was pulling him forward – making the risk worth taking. When he was close enough to hear the voices clearly, he cocked his head and listened intently. A startled look, and then an admiring smile appeared on his dark face. He heard the sound of footsteps then and glided silently back down the hall. He was in the kitchen before Thomas and Robert emerged from Carrie’s room.

  Robert’s face had a serious, slightly awestruck look. “Thank you for trusting me sir. I will not betray your confidence.”

  “I have no doubt of that young man, or I wouldn’t have told you. I hope you never need to know it, but if you do…”

  “I’m sorry to have to leave so soon, sir.”

  “That was a long way to ride for just one day,” Thomas observed.

  “It was worth it,” Robert stated quietly. He looked up at the room above him where he knew Carrie was with her mother. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Cromwell giving you the boot, Adams?”

  Ike Adams shot Jennings a withering look. “Not on yer life! He knows he can’t run that plantation without me,” he boasted. He saw no reason to tell the truth. Thomas Cromwell had not been himself since his wife had taken ill. He had merely frowned and nodded his head when Adams had reported he had experienced no luck finding the slaves. His wife had called out then, and he had turned back into the house without another word.

  Adams was a mean man, but he wasn’t entirely without feelings. He felt bad that Cromwell’s wife was so sick. He also couldn’t help being glad it had gotten him through a rough spot. Blackwell had fired Manson when he had returned without his slaves and hired another overseer who he said could control his people. “What happened to Manson?” he asked suddenly.

  Jennings shrugged his shoulders and scowled. “Headed farther south. Somewhere in Mississippi, I think.”

  Adams merely nodded and tipped his whiskey bottle back. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking. Losing the Cromwell slaves should have taught him that. But what was a man to do when the whole world was going crazy? Get drunk - nothing else made any sense.

  “Miss Carrie?”

  A broad smile spread across Carrie’s face as she reached for the thick envelope Sam was holding out to her. She tucked it into her pocket, glanced over at her sleeping mother and ran downstairs. Once outside, she headed straight for the porch swing.

  Dear Carrie,

  By the time you get this, it should be around the middle of October.

  Carrie leaned her head back against the porch and smiled. She could almost see Aunt Abby’s calm eyes looking into her own. Their correspondence had become a lifeline for her. And Aunt Abby was right. Today was October the fourteenth. Brisk, cool air had settled onto the land, the fields were all harvested, and the slaves were busy at work mending buildings and tools before they were put away for the winter.

  It was so wonderful to get your last letter, though I am sorry to hear your mother is not doing any better. I am praying daily that she will have a renewed desire to live. I also pray for your own strength and courage. I know your head is probably full of questions you want to ask God when you get to heaven...

  How right she was! None of the present situation made any sense to Carrie. Daily she watched her mother waste away and she saw the lines of worry and despair deepen on her father’s face. She sighed and turned back to her letter.

  Don’t be afraid to tell God what you think. He’s big enough to take it you know. Besides, he already knows what you’re thinking and feeling. You are not alone down there. Yo
u can always talk to God.

  Carrie frowned as she read that part. She would have to think about that later. She had been too tired to think about God much, especially when he seemed so detached from her life.

  Life here in Philadelphia is as busy as usual. I saw Matthew Justin recently. He sends warm greetings to you. He also related an interesting experience he had. At one of his political functions he ran into Dr. Harriet Hunt. I have told you about her and her medical school here in Philadelphia. They had quite an interesting chat and Matthew shared with her about you and your dream. Her response was that she would welcome you jumping into the fray - the water was a little brisk, but just right for those who had a strong heart! I know you despair of your dream, Carrie, but hang on! We can never know, and hardly ever understand, the path God has us to walk on our way to our dreams.

  My work with the “Society” is keeping me extremely busy. More and more “passengers” are riding the Railroad. I understand our activities are creating quite a stir in the South. That is to be expected, but I find myself greatly troubled that anger over activities such as mine are adding to the South’s determination to withdraw from our glorious Union. Yet, I cannot turn away from those who want to be free - who deserve to be free. Daily I fight the battle with my conscience. I can only hope that I am indeed doing God’s work.

  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 she 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 2 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 about that impossible.”

  Carrie laughed. It felt good to know her mother knew 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 these 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 r
ose 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 to 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.”