Shifted By The Winds (11 page)

Abby walked out onto the porch, hoping for any movement of air to give her some relief. Philadelphia was brutal in the summer, but she had decided Richmond was even worse. The heat wrapped around her like a blanket and threatened to suffocate her. She stroked the velvety leaves of the magnolia tree shading the porch, trying to take her mind off how hot she was. She searched the horizon for any sign of storm clouds hovering above the surrounding houses, but the brilliant sky and blazing sun taunted her. The streets were empty. It was even too hot for the children to play. She knew they would return with the sunset, but for now it was almost deathly quiet. It seemed even the birds were hiding from the heat.

May stepped out onto the porch with a platter. “I figured you be needing this about now, Miss Abby.”

Abby reached gratefully for the lemonade. It was too hot for food, but she knew their housekeeper would scold her if she didn’t eat the scone she had brought. Abby picked it up and stared at it. She didn’t have enough energy to actually bring it to her mouth. She had left the factory early that day, well aware Thomas realized how miserable she was. He had encouraged her to cut the day short. She needed no persuading. The calendar would soon declare it was September. She could only hope the new month would bring a respite.

“Hot as blazes, ain’t it?” May said cheerfully.

Abby just looked at her.

May chuckled but then sobered. “It’s hot, sho ‘nuff, but that ain’t what’s really bothering you.” She plucked the scone out of Abby’s hand, put it back on the platter, and set everything down on the table beside the porch swing. “You reckon talkin’ about it would do any good?” Her kind black face framed piercing eyes.

Abby sighed. “Do you feel it all the time?”

May crinkled her brow. “Feel it?”

Abby nodded. “The danger,” she said dully, unable to stop staring at the shimmering horizon. “I had my share of challenges in Philadelphia, but it’s like Richmond has a black cloud hanging over it. I seem to be constantly waiting for the next horrible thing to happen.” She hated the plaintive tone in her voice, but the combination of her feelings and the oppressive heat were weighing on her. She allowed herself a moment of longing for her Philadelphia home but knew she would never leave the husband she adored. That didn’t mean she didn’t hate the feeling of always seeming to dangle on a precipice.

“It can be tiresome,” May said quietly. The pain in her eyes said far more.

Abby managed a tight smile. “I’m sorry, May. I feel like a whiny baby.” She sat down on the porch swing and pulled her housekeeper down beside her.

May glanced up and down the street to see if anyone was watching, but she didn’t jump back up. After a tense moment, she settled back against the swing. “I don’t know how’s I’ll ever get used to not being treated less than,” she admitted.

“Surely you’ve been with us long enough since the war ended,” Abby objected.

“Eighteen months of freedom don’t hardly make up for fifty-four years of slavery,” May observed.

“No,” Abby agreed heavily. “I don’t imagine it does.” She watched as an ornate carriage rolled down the street pulled by a beautiful horse drenched with sweat. She fought to free herself from the burden threatening to choke her. This wasn’t like her.

“You want to tell me what’s really going on?” May pressed. “Are things bad at the factory?”

“No,” Abby said quickly. “The factory is doing well. We’ve hired more people to handle all the clothing orders coming in, and the tension between the workers seems to be lessening every day.” She felt a surge of satisfaction as she thought about their black and white employees managing to work together. There would always be issues, but the lure of a well-paying job was forcing both races to work through them.

“That’s good,” May said simply.

Abby knew May was waiting for her answer. The two women had become friends in the year since Abby had married Thomas Cromwell. “I knew things would be difficult,” she said slowly, “but I was naïve enough to think they would get better more quickly once the war ended.” She sighed. “In some ways they seem to have gotten worse.”

“And you didn’t have to see the trouble or hear about it every single day when you were living in Philadelphia,” May observed astutely.

“That’s true,” Abby admitted. “I guess I lived more of a sheltered life in Philadelphia than I knew. I was committed to making a difference, but my home seemed far away from all the trouble.” Her words came slowly as she faced what she was feeling. “I guess I always felt like I had a safe haven.”

“And you don’t feel that here?” May asked. “Somebody here been botherin’ you, Miss Abby?”

“No, of course not,” Abby said quickly, trying to put her feelings into words. She realized as soon as she spoke, however, that she didn’t truly feel safe. She suspected trouble could find her and Thomas at any moment, no matter where they were. Memories of Jeremy’s beating still haunted her. She tried to bring sense to her rampaging feelings. “Philadelphia was more of a melting pot, I suppose.”

“I feel like I be meltin’ right now,” May replied, her eyes dancing with fun in spite of the heat.

Abby chuckled but was pulled back into her thoughts quickly. “How do your people stand it?” she demanded. “Things have gotten worse since they burned the church in April. I know houses have been burnt down in the black quarters. People have been beaten.” Restless, she stood up and gazed out over the streets. “I don’t see it getting any better,” she said helplessly, not sure if she was feeling more anger or sadness.

May patted the seat next to her. “Gettin’ all hot and bothered ain’t what you need on a day like this,” she said matter-of-factly.

Abby whirled around and stared at her, too upset to sit back down. “How can you be so calm?”

“You think this trouble be comin’ after you,” May observed quietly.

Abby wished she could deny it. “I’m scared every day,” she admitted, “but I’m
just
as scared for you and Miles. For Thomas and Jeremy. For Spencer and Marcus.” Her heart beat wildly as she clutched at the porch column. “For Opal and Eddie. For all the kids…” Her voice slowed as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes widened as the humid heat threatened to drown her.

Alarmed, May stood up and reached for her arm. “This isn’t like you, Miss Abby. Where does all this be comin’ from?” She reached down and picked up a magazine from the table and began to fan her rapidly. “Now you just stop this nonsense and breathe easy.” Her voice was sharp with worry.

Abby fought to slow her breathing. She knew she was letting fear consume her. Life had been so peaceful when they had been on the plantation just a month earlier. She hadn’t been ready to leave when they had to bring Carrie and the rest back to the city to catch the train to Philadelphia. Thomas had offered for them to return to the country, but she had insisted they stay because she knew he believed their absence affected the factory. She should have gone back.

Abby spun around to look into May’s eyes. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?” she demanded. She wanted to hear the truth that her heart already knew. Perhaps if her mind and heart were on the same page, she would find a way to deal with it. She hated feeling weak and ineffective.

May regarded her steadily. “I reckon it will,” she admitted heavily, sadness cloaking her eyes. “But it ain’t nothin’ new, Miss Abby,” she added. “We are used to it.”

“
Used to it
?” Abby scoffed as frustration boiled in her. “How can you be used to being badly treated? How can you be used to knowing you could be beaten at any minute?” She knew she was asking not only for May, but also for herself and her family. Unable to control her explosive emotions, she slammed her hand against the porch column, biting back a cry when a splinter penetrated her hand.

“Well, for Pete’s sake,” May muttered. She grabbed Abby’s hand and stared at the long splinter glaring out at her from Abby’s soft white palm. “That will be enough of that, Miss Abby,” she said. Turning, she pulled open the screen door and led Abby inside. “I gots to take care of that hand.”

Abby was still scared and angry, but the burning pain in her hand was overshadowing some of it. “How foolish of me,” she cried.

“Hush now,” May said soothingly as she led Abby into the kitchen and settled her in one of the chairs. She brought out the medicine kit Carrie had put together, and pulled up a chair opposite from Abby. “This gonna hurt some, but it will feel better when I done got it out.”

Abby bit her lip as May probed her delicate skin with the tweezers. She almost welcomed the pain that made her forget some of her earlier feelings. It also gave her a chance to get her emotions under control.

May spoke as she worked. “There is enough of the splinter sticking out that I should be able to pull it right out. It’s gonna hurt like the dickens, but at least I don’t have to dig around with a needle.”

Abby shuddered but felt ashamed when she thought about how many people in the country were truly hurting. “It’s nothing but a splinter,” she said, filled with self-disgust.

May held her hand still, grabbed the end of the splinter, and gave a smooth, firm pull. She held up the splinter with a smile and then doused Abby’s hand under water. “Now that the splinter is gone, I got some things to say to you, Miss Abby. You’re being plum ridiculous,” she scolded, her eyes flashing fire.

Abby blinked at her.

“You be one of the bravest women I know, but you be wallowing around in fear like you sit in it every day. I know for a fact you don’t, so I be tryin’ to figure out why you be sitting in it today.”

Abby hoped May could tell her, because she was clueless. She just knew she couldn’t break free from the emotions threatening to swallow her.

May cocked her head as the fire faded from her eyes. “I reckon you’re trying to figure out a way to go right around all the fear and anger boiling up in you. The last years done been some real hard ones. You was needing a real break out there on that plantation, but you didn’t get it. Now that you’re back, everythin’ just be buildin’ up inside you like that boiler that blew up on the steamship that almost killed Mr. Matthew.  You ain’t gonna be able to go around all you’s feelin’, Miss Abby.” May took hold of her hand. “You gots to go right
through
it. You got to figure out what you really be afraid of and then you got to push right through it. Tryin’ to go around it ain’t gonna do nothing but make that steam build up inside you, because you ain’t gonna be able to do it. Your heart knows that be true, but your mind tryin’ to convince it of something else. Your heart ain’t believin’ it for even a second.”

Abby considered her words. She recognized the truth, but still resisted it.

May wasn’t done. “Fear is the brain’s way of saying there is something important for you to overcome.”

“It is?” Abby asked faintly. For most of the last several years, she had been the one helping others overcome
their
fears. The helpless feeling she now felt was as humiliating as it was terrifying. Yet she also felt an overwhelming gratitude that she wasn’t alone with it, and she was also aware there was no judgement in May’s eyes.

“You and Carrie taught me that, Miss Abby.”

“We did?” Abby whispered, gazing into May’s wise ebony eyes.

May nodded. “Before you got here, Carrie wanted me to learn to read. I was too scared because I just knew I weren’t gonna be able to do it. She sat me down in my kitchen one day and told me that courage didn’t mean I wasn’t plenty scared. It meant that I felt all that fear and then I just did it anyway.”

Abby smiled. She remembered the day she had told Carrie that very same thing. “So you just did it,” she said.

May nodded. “Now I read all the time, but I still had lots of things I was scared of. Right after you and Mr. Cromwell gots married and you moved into the house, I was fretting over something that I can’t even remember right now.”

Abby nodded. Her memory of that day was very clear. The remembering, and the realization that May couldn’t even recall what had her so frightened, began to shine a light onto her own fear.

“You told me that fear ain’t nothing more than an obstacle that stands in the way of getting where I want to get. You told me that every time I feel the fear and then keep moving forward, that I would get stronger and wiser.”

Abby’s smile was genuine this time. “That part was definitely true,” she said warmly. “You have become so strong and wise.”

May lowered her eyes for a minute and then raised them back up. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better, Miss Abby,” she said bluntly.

Abby sighed.  She recognized the truth but she wished it weren’t so.

“Just like it took a whole war to make all the slaves free, it’s going to take a right long time for people to
treat
us like we’re free. There be too many people—especially down here in the South—who don’t think we ought to be free. They certainly don’t think we ought to be treated equal. They’s gonna fight it hard.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Abby probed.

“Well, of course it does,” May said promptly. “But my being afraid ain’t gonna change it, or help make it better. I can’t stop no one from hurtin’ me, and I reckon I can’t stop somebody who decides to kill me…” Her voice wavered, but her chin lifted. “There gonna be plenty of people who’s gonna die because them vigilantes don’t think we got a right to be free. If I happen to be one of them, so be it,” she said bravely. “I ain’t got no death wish, Miss Abby, but I ain’t gonna hide away from the world because I be afraid. Me and my people are just goin’ to keep movin’ forward. We have to believe that sometime it will get better. It might take a right long time, but at some point it will get better.” Her voice took on a slight edge of desperation. “It has to, Miss Abby. It just has to.  Things be shifting in the world right now.  It’s just gonna take some time to shift all the way.”