Dark Chaos (# 4 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (54 page)

             
“You thought it was my father?”  Carrie cried. 

             
“I didn’t know
who
Jeremy’s father was,” Pastor Anthony explained.  “I was only told he was fathered by a Cromwell.  By then your grandfather was dead.  It was not unusual for white owners to sleep with their slaves.  I suppose what was unusual was that he fathered a white child.”  He paused then added quickly.  “I have not judged your father for what I thought were his actions.   I am simply grateful to have Jeremy in my life.”

             
“Jeremy has never asked where he came from?”

             
“Not since I discovered the truth,” Pastor Anthony responded.  “Oh, he used to ask questions when he was little, but we would just tell him we were the luckiest people in the world to have been able to choose him.  That seemed to satisfy him.  After a while he quit asking.  There’s no real reason he should have to know.”

             
“He could have a black baby,” Carrie said quietly. 

             
Pastor Anthony whitened.  “Yes, I know.  I’ve thought about that.  I guess I decided we would cross that bridge if, and when, we came to it.”

             
Carrie leaned back in her chair and stared at him.  “You have given your whole life to helping the black people in your congregation.  Why are you ashamed to tell your son he is half black?”  She was genuinely puzzled. 

             
“Surely you know the answer to that,” Pastor Anthony said.  “Most white people simply believe the Negro race is inferior to them.  For two centuries they have used their belief to justify slavery and discrimination.  I didn’t want that for my son.  I didn’t want for him to have to labor under that burden.”

             
“But things are changing.  Surely you believe that slavery will be end.  Even if the South by some miracle wins this war, the power of slavery has been broken.”

             
“Slavery, perhaps,” Pastor Anthony agreed, “but not discrimination.  I have watched what is happening in our countries.  I am still able to get my hands on Northern newspapers.  There is a cry to abolish slavery, but the vast majority of our country still believes blacks are inferior.  They don’t want them to be slaves, but they certainly don’t consider them their equals.”  He rubbed a hand over his face wearily.  “You’ve met Jeremy.  He is extremely intelligent.  Doors of opportunity are swinging wide for him.  At such a young age, he is already highly respected in the area of finance.  He has his whole life ahead of him.  Why burden him with something he had nothing to do with?”

             
“But what if he could make a difference in how people view blacks?  Surely people would begin to realize their perceptions of blacks are wrong,” Carrie insisted.   “You spend every day fighting for the rights of black people.  Why deny your son that chance?”

             
Pastor Anthony’s eyes flashed, but his voice remained calm.  “People look at me and accuse me of being a rather eccentric, do-gooder, white person.  They would look at Jeremy with scorn.  Everything would be different for him.  I won’t do that to him.”

             
Carrie was silent for a long time.  “Would you like to know about his twin sister?” she asked finally. 

             
“If she’s anything like my son, she’s very special,” Pastor Anthony responded.

             
“She’s the most special person I know,” Carrie agreed.  “She’s very beautiful and just as intelligent as Jeremy.  For years she taught the people on our plantation to read and write.  Her school was a little clearing in the woods where she could hold her classes in secret.”  She chuckled.  “She wasn’t going to let a little thing like the law stop her from doing what was right.”  She paused, remembering.  “She’s my best friend,” she said softly.  “She’s married now,” she continued after a moment.  “I helped her and Moses, her husband, escape a couple of years ago.”

             
They’re the ones I set up the Underground Railroad escape for?” Pastor Anthony gasped, leaning closer.

Carrie nodded.  “Your lives are connected in more ways than you know. I received one small note saying they had made it to Philadelphia, but I haven’t heard from her since then.  Moses helped me escape the plantation when the Union soldiers came there that following spring.  The last I knew he was a spy for the North.”  She paused.  “Both of them are committed to doing whatever they need to do to help their people be free.”

              “And you think I’m wrong for not giving Jeremy the opportunity to decide for himself what he will do with the truth that he’s half black?”  Pastor Anthony asked steadily.

             
Carrie thought for a long time then shook her head.  “I don’t know what I would do if I were in your position.  I can think I would know, but I can’t really.  I don’t know how I would feel if it were my child.”   She paused then looked up imploringly.  “But don’t you see?  I can handle the fact that Jeremy doesn’t know who he is.  It doesn’t really matter to me whether he knows I’m his half-niece or not.  But he has a twin sister out there who wants more than anything in the world to find her brother.  Her mother and father are both dead.  He’s all the family she has left!”

             
Pastor Anthony shook his head firmly.  “He’s all the family I have left, too.  It’s better they not know.”

             
“Better for who?”  Carrie asked.  “Better for Jeremy perhaps, but certainly not for Rose.”

             
Pastor Anthony frowned suddenly.  “How did Rose find out?  The records I read indicated the mother had agreed never to talk about Jeremy’s birth.”

             
“Sarah kept her secret until just before she died,” Carrie said softly, her eyes misting as she thought about her.  “Then she decided Rose had the right to know the truth about her life - about who she really was.”  She paused.  “Sarah had no idea what had happened to her baby boy.  All Rose knew was that she had a twin.  It wasn’t until much later that we found the papers saying he had been adopted.”  She stared up at Pastor Anthony.  “She vowed then that when the war was over she would come back and find her brother.”

             
Pastor Anthony blanched.  “I hope she doesn’t do that.”  He looked scared for a moment then shook his head.  “She won’t find the records.  They have very strict rules about not letting people see them.”

             
Carrie stared at her friend in amazement, struck by the fear and determination she saw on his face.  “Jeremy has every right to be proud of who he is,” she said.  “His mother was a wonderful woman - the wisest woman I know.”

             
“His mother was my wife,” Pastor Anthony snapped.  Then he put his head in his hands.  “I’m sorry, Carrie.  I have no right to speak to you like that.”

             
“I could tell Rose myself,” Carrie reminded him gently. 

             
Pastor Anthony nodded his head heavily.  “I know.”   Then he peered up at her.  “I’m asking you not to do that.”

             
Carrie frowned.  “You’re asking me to put myself in a very difficult position.  I care for you very deeply.  I also love Rose.”

             
“We are not the only two people involved in this,” Pastor Anthony reminded her.  “There is also Jeremy.”  He paused.  “And there is your father to consider.”

 
              “Excuse me?”

             
“Your father made what I assume was a very difficult decision in order to protect his father.  The truth now could do little but embarrass him.”

             
“My father feels very bad about what happened.”

             
“Would he want the truth known?” Pastor Anthony pressed.

             
Carrie stood abruptly.  “I’m not sure what I will do,” she said shortly.   “Regardless, I don’t have to worry about it now.  Our country is still divided.  Rose still lives in a foreign country.”  She was both disappointed and angry at Pastor Anthony’s response.  Mixed in with those feelings was deep compassion.  She turned to leave but then swung back around.  “I think you are underestimating your son, Pastor.  I think he has enough courage to face the truth about his life.”  Not waiting for a reply, she walked out, closing the door behind her firmly.

             
Matthew shuddered as another blast of cold air whipped through the dark, dingy cellar.  Pulling the tattered remains of his clothing tighter in a futile attempt to get warm, he thought longingly of the coat Carrie had brought him before. 

             
“You all right, man?”

             
Matthew glanced up wearily.  “Yeah.”

             
“You ain’t lookin’ so good.”

             
“You see how you look after you’ve been down in
Rat Dungeon
for two months,” Matthew replied, shuddering in the cold.  He raised his eyes to study the newest addition to their little group.  Josiah looked about in his mid-thirties.  “What did you do to end up here?” he asked, not because he cared so much but because talking would help pass even a few minutes.

             
Josiah shrugged.  “Just got brought in yesterday.  My men and I were ordered to do some raids out in the countryside from Fort Monroe.  Ran into a nest of Rebels.  Most of my men got away.  Me and Sammie weren’t so lucky,” he nodded his head toward another man leaning against the wall, his knees drawn up tight to his chest.

             
“Being black is all it takes to put you in
Rat Dungeon
,” another man volunteered bitterly.  “These white Rebels don’t take too kindly to black men coming down here to fight.  They think we’re nothing but animals, so they figure this hole is just the right place to put us.”

             
“What put you here, man?”  Josiah asked Matthew.  “You don’t look too black.”  The hole rang with weak laughter. 

             
Matthew glanced down at his thin body.  “This was my reward for trying to escape,” he said bitterly. 

             
“You tried to break out of here?”  Josiah asked in amazement.  “Why, I’ve heard it can’t be done.”

             
“I almost made it,” Matthew said grimly, then doubled over as a spasm of coughing seized his body.

             
“How long they gonna keep you down here?”  Josiah asked.

             
Matthew shrugged.  He had thought he would be out by now.  He had seen other men come and go.  His position as a journalist must have made him more of a threat than he realized.  He gazed around at the ten men sharing the hole with him.  Five of them were black officers whose only crime was that they were the wrong color.  The other five were officers sent down for not following the rules.  If things went as they normally did, they would be gone in a few days and back up to the relative airy openness of the upper prison. 

             
“They’re bound to let you out soon, Matthew,” one of those men urged now.  “They won’t keep you down here forever.  Captain Anderson has been talking to them.”

             
Matthew turned away.  He had survived by not counting on being released.  The daily rise and plummet of his hopes when he had expected to be freed any day had almost destroyed him.  It was better to just concentrate on staying alive.  That was all he had the energy for.   That - and planning his next escape attempt. 

             
His resolve to escape had hardened into blind determination as the long days and nights had crept by.  The diet of bread and water had reduced him to skin and bones, but daily exercise had kept him from becoming weak.   The constant torture of rats running around his feet had almost driven him to madness until he had learned to block out the reality of their presence.   Snatches of communication with the upper prison as they pulled back boards to drop down tiny morsels of food had reminded him there was still a world outside
Rat Dungeon
.