Shifted By The Winds (38 page)

Louisa was suddenly hungry for just that, but she shook her head. “Thank you, Annie, but I’ll come down for it.” She longed for her old life of comfort, but she was acutely aware Annie was not a slave. She cringed inside when she realized she simply didn’t know how to communicate with her. Annie wasn’t a slave, but Louisa couldn’t treat her as an equal. She supposed she could figure out a way to treat her as an employee, but Annie was Moses’
mother
. She wasn’t an employee. She was simply a member of the household. A household Louisa was living in as a guest. Nothing in her whole life had prepared her for anything like this.

“You just don’t know what to do with me, do you?” Annie demanded. Her voice was direct, but her eyes were kind.

Louisa tried to conjure up an adequate response, but she suddenly didn’t have the energy. Living in this new world, with everything she had ever known ripped away from her, was suddenly more than she could handle. She shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for,” Annie replied. “I’m not real sure what to do with you, either.”

Louisa blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You look at me and see a slave,” Annie continued. “You ain’t never had to treat a black person as an equal before. Well, I ain’t never had to deal with a white person here in my own home who feels that way.”

Louisa stared at her, more at loss for words than ever. “I see,” she finally managed.

“No, I don’t reckon you do,” Annie replied, only her eyes showing her discomfort. “You don’t got no idea what it’s like to have lived your whole life as a slave and have white people looking at you like you ain’t really human. You don’t know what it’s like to have your children ripped away from you.” She paused. “How you think you would feel if someone came and took Jasper from you?”

Louisa gasped. “I would never let that happen!”

Annie nodded. “You got that choice. I didn’t,” she said. “Now that I’m back with all my children, and all my grandbabies, it’s a treasure I don’t take lightly. And I don’t like someone comin’ into
my
home and making me feel less than them.”

Louisa stared at her, a small sliver of light forcing its way into her closed mind. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, realizing with a feeling of shock that she meant it. “Truly, I’m sorry.” She had no idea what to do with the feeling, but it was there just the same.

Annie eyed her closely and nodded. “It’s a start,” she replied with satisfaction. “Now, you been stuck up in this room long enough. Why don’t you come down and have some tea and scones with us? And then you can help us.”

“Help you?” Louisa asked, feeling a little lost again.

“I know your mama taught you how to run a kitchen,” Annie answered. “And I heard you ain’t got no slaves down in Georgia, so you must know how to cook. How else do you feed your husband and son?”

“I cook,” Louisa admitted, trying desperately to realign her thinking to her new situation. She was at Cromwell as a guest because Blackwell Plantation was not livable. Her old way of life was completely gone. Evidently it was never going to come back. Certainly she could swallow her old beliefs and pretend to accept a new way of thinking and living, even if she couldn’t feel it. “I’ll be happy to help,” she said faintly, wondering what she had agreed to as she followed Annie down the stairs.

June and Polly were just pouring tea and putting out hot scones when they walked in.

June looked up and gave her a pleasant smile. “I’m glad you could join us, Louisa.”

Louisa smiled back, hoping her face didn’t reveal her distaste at a black person calling her by her first name. Her slaves had always called her Miss Blackwell, or Miss Louisa. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said courteously. She could tell by the flash of anger in June’s eyes that the other woman had read her expression, but Louisa simply didn’t know how to handle this. She reached for her cup of tea, hoping that having something in her hands would give her a feeling of control, however small.

“You closed the clinic today?” Annie asked.

Polly nodded. “The patient load is very light right now. I left a note saying to send one of the children from school to get us if there is an emergency. I wanted to be right here helping with the cooking.”

“Me, too,” June added, turning to Louisa. “Carrie told me so much about the annual tournament at Blackwell Plantation. The men have been working hard to get the arena ready for the competition.”

Louisa nodded. She sincerely doubted anything could match the splendor of a Blackwell tournament, but she was wondering about something else. “The clinic?”

Polly smiled. “Carrie started a health clinic here before she went off to medical school. She didn’t want to leave everyone high and dry, so she trained June and me to handle things while she’s away. It’s not the same as Carrie being here, but we can handle most things.”

Louisa tried to absorb this new information. It had always been the role of the plantation mistress to handle the medical needs of their
people
. She had never even entertained the idea that blacks could offer that kind of care. “I see,” she murmured, once again feeling completely lost and out of her depth.

Annie chuckled and handed her a scone slathered with butter. “You ain’t got no idea how to live in this new world, do you?”

Louisa shook her head. “I guess I don’t.” It suddenly horrified her to realize how true it was. She knew better than to say it wouldn’t be this way for long, but now she was wondering if that were true. All her neighbors back in Georgia insisted the blacks were simply incapable of caring for themselves. They assured her it was just a matter of time before the whites were once more in control of the South, and then things would go back to normal. They had told her of plans all through the South to assure control would return to the whites, and that President Johnson was going to support them in making it happen.

In the time she had been here, she had become aware of how quickly President Johnson was losing any power to make things go his way in the country. She didn’t pretend to understand the political side of what was happening, but she was smart enough to realize things were once again not looking good for the old southern way of living. Perry had told her just how profitable Cromwell Plantation was this year. He had come into their room almost bug-eyed with the news of the huge tobacco harvest. Now she was listening to two well-spoken black women talk about running a medical clinic for the community. It both humiliated and enraged her that she simply had no point of reference. She wasn’t at all sure she
should
have a point of reference. The blacks here on the plantation must simply be unique. Certainly very few blacks were this capable.

Louisa looked up and saw Annie watching her closely. She flushed, certain the old woman could see inside her head. Rage and humiliation swelled her throat, threatening to choke her. She wished she could just run out the door and pretend none of this was happening. The reality of how much the South had changed had not really touched her until now. The only difference for her and Perry when the war ended was that they hadn’t had to worry about soldiers destroying their world anymore. She had felt comfortable on their farm, where she seldom thought of her old life. There was really nothing she had missed, because she had the things most important to her right there with her. Perry and Jasper filled her life with so much joy and love. When the cotton crop had been such a dismal failure, Perry had insisted they come to Virginia. She had suddenly yearned to see home again, not realizing every breath she took on Virginia soil was going to throw her old life in her face. She hated how inadequate and confused she felt in the world she had once reigned in.

“It’s going to take all of us some time,” Polly said.

Louisa stared in amazement as Polly reached out and took her hand. She had never in her life had a black person touch her of their own volition. She bit back a reprimand. She also reluctantly acknowledged that it felt good to be connected with a woman, even if she was a black woman. She let her hand stay where it was as she looked up in wonder.

“Did Robert ever tell you how he changed?” Polly asked.

Louisa shook her head silently. Perry had told her part of what Robert had revealed to him on the porch the first night they were there, but she was certain she only knew a fragment of the story.

“Me and my family saved Robert’s life,” Polly began quietly. “Moses brought him to us almost dead in the second year of the war. He lived with us until he could come home to Carrie.”

Louisa went still, wanting very much to hear the story. “Please tell me,” she whispered, not bothering to analyze why she wanted to hear it. The only thing she truly comprehended was that she wanted to find a way to live in this new world. Robert had been raised in the same world she had, and she knew his belief in slavery had kept him and Carrie apart. Something had obviously changed. She had seen Robert’s glowing happiness. Now she wanted to understand it.

“Did Robert ever tell you that Moses’ father was the one who killed his daddy?”

Louisa gaped at her. She had heard rumors of Robert’s father being killed by a runaway slave, but she knew nothing more than that. “You’re serious?” Her mind flashed to the close friendship Robert and Moses had. Even she could see it, and Perry had commented on it.

“They’ve come a long way,” June said with a chuckle.

Louisa swung her head toward Moses’ sister, drawn to the warm intelligence in the woman’s kind eyes. “I want to know the whole story,” she said, surprised to discover she suddenly wanted that more than anything.

The morning melted away as Polly told the story of how Moses had brought Robert to them after he’d been discovered almost dead on the battlefield. She told of the struggle all of them had faced to overcome their prejudices and fears. Her eyes glowed as she told of Robert taking his first steps, and tears filled her eyes when she spoke of the day he had ridden away. “None of us thought we would ever see him again,” she admitted. “It’s hard to believe sometimes that we are all living on this plantation together.”

“When did Robert find out about Moses’ father?” Louisa asked, completely caught up in the drama of the tale.

“A few months after the war ended,” June revealed. “Robert almost died of pneumonia, but Carrie brought him back to life. Actually,” she corrected, “Carrie kept him alive, but it was Amber who brought him back to life. He loves that little girl with all his heart.”

Louisa knew that was true. She had seen the two of them together. She had heard their laughter drifting through the air from the stable.

“They worked it out,” Annie said. “Both them men realized they had nothing to do with who their daddies had been or what they had done. They figured out that it don’t do no good to live in the past. It will always be a part of who they are, but their lives will be about the choices they make
now
.”

Louisa flushed, but she no longer felt rage and humiliation. She got Annie’s message loud and clear. She also knew she felt completely at home with these three warm, loving women. They had every right to resent her because of her family and her own beliefs, but they had chosen to embrace her. As she realized what a huge privilege that was, she could almost feel the chains falling from around her heart. But with no words to express her revelation, she knew she still had a ways to go.

“Don’t we have work to do now?” was the only thing she could think of to say.

Annie nodded, her eyes bright with approval. “That we do, Miss Louisa. That we do…”

Carrie was exhausted as she headed toward home. She had lost track of the days she had been going to Moyamensing, but the tide had finally turned. There had been more deaths from the cholera, but there had been many more people snatched back from the brink. People called her name now as Michael, who had become her exclusive driver, ferried her through the neighborhood. Biddy had kept a constant stream of the homeopathic remedies coming. Carrie, Carolyn, and several other of the Homeopathic College students who had offered to help, dispensed them as quickly as they arrived. Janie had joined them for a few days, but she had also continued with her classes. Carrie had simply devoted all her time to the Irish of Moyamensing. She knew the day of reckoning would come in regard to medical school, but she didn’t have the energy to focus on it.

The cholera hospital was still full, but there were no more from this neighborhood. She and the others had distributed camphor to those who were still vulnerable, but they had found no active cases in their rounds today. They had distributed veratrum to several households where they had trained the women to treat people if they became ill, and they had educated everyone they could talk to about how to avoid cholera in the first place.

If the dropping temperatures were any indication, Philadelphia was not far away from its first frost. Cholera always retreated with the arrival of freezing temperatures. Carrie hated to hasten the arrival of the city’s brutal winter, but she realized it would save many people this year. She shuddered and pulled her coat tighter, grateful for the blanket Michael had insisted she put over her lap.

“You did good, Mrs. Borden.”

Carrie heard Michael’s words through a haze of fatigue. Now that things were under control, she was acutely aware of just how weary she was. She forced herself to look at him and smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Michael. Without you getting the remedies… Without you picking us up every day…”

Michael nodded. “I told you I would do anything you needed when you saved my sister and nephew. I’m just glad I was there to help.”

“It took all of us to save so many people,” Carrie murmured. “Thank you.” She fought her drooping eyelids, feeling almost desperate to get home, take a hot bath and crawl into bed. She was quite certain she would be able to sleep for days.

She waved goodbye to Michael as he drove off, and then she turned to trudge up the stairs. She felt a vague appreciation for the brightly colored fall leaves dancing on the oak trees that lined the street, knowing they wouldn’t be there much longer. In three days she would go home to the plantation for the Harvest Celebration, and she could hardly wait. She had said she wouldn’t go if the cholera wasn’t under control, but Carolyn had assured her that she and the others could handle whatever came up. Carrie felt too empty to protest. Every part of her was drained and weary. She had much to deal with when she returned to Philadelphia after the celebration, but she was happy to keep pushing it back. In the meantime, she had done what she had set out to do—help the people of Moyamensing. Her own personal situation would have to wait.

She turned the doorknob and managed a small smile at the scrumptious aromas of fresh bread and soup. Her stomach reminded her how ravenously hungry she was. Delicious heat engulfed her as she took off her winter coat, hung it on the coat tree and stepped into the living room. The day had actually gotten comfortably warm, but a brisk breeze blowing in off the ocean since early afternoon had chased the Indian summer away. Carrie shivered and rubbed her hands together, eager to sit down and eat dinner before she went to bed.

“You’re home.”

Carrie looked up and smiled at Florence. “I am. Dinner smells wonderful.”

Florence gave her a vague smile, but her eyes were shuttered. Carrie hesitated when Elizabeth and Alice both stepped into the living room, as well, with hard expressions on their faces. As weary as Carrie was, she was also acutely aware that her dreamed-of, restful evening was not going to become a reality. She had been grateful the last few weeks that no one had pressed her for information. They’d not had a chance. Carrie had returned home late each evening after everyone had already retired, leaving just as quietly early the next morning before the others were awake. Janie had been in her room a few times, but none of the rest of her housemates had sought her out. She had hoped to put off this confrontation a while longer, but it looked like that wouldn’t be possible.

Carrie took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Can we talk?”

“That would be a good idea,” Alice said, her voice an odd mix of sadness and anger.

Carrie looked around. “Where is Janie?”

“We asked her not to be here tonight,” Elizabeth said haughtily. “What we have to say doesn’t involve Janie.”

“And she agreed?” Carrie wasn’t sure if Janie’s absence was a relief or a disappointment. She longed for her friend to be here to support her, but she also didn’t want to make things harder for Janie. Just because she had made her decision didn’t mean anyone else had to follow her. Besides, she didn’t know how to interpret Janie’s actions the last few weeks. Had she decided to stay at the Female Medical College? Carrie realized they had talked of nothing substantial since the crisis in Moyamensing had begun. There had been neither time nor energy.

Florence shrugged. “Let’s just say we didn’t really give her a choice…” Her voice faded off as the door whipped open.

Janie entered the room as Florence was finishing her sentence. “And I find I am no longer willing to let others dictate my actions and decisions,” Janie said calmly. She stepped up next to Carrie and took her hand.

Carrie managed to keep from sagging with relief into her friend, but she squeezed Janie’s hand to show her gratitude. “Shall we go into the kitchen? I’m happy to talk about whatever you want, but I haven’t eaten since morning.”

Alice scowled, but did as Carrie asked. The rest followed and sat in the chairs around the large oak table.

Even though the atmosphere was stilted and cold, Carrie managed to eat around the lump in her throat, somehow forcing down the hot chicken noodle soup. She knew she would need food to handle whatever was coming, though she took note no one else was making the attempt. She was also aware it would be impossible to force bread down her constricted throat, so she ignored it, her eyes fixed on her bowl while she ate. For a wild moment she wondered if a miracle would make the bowl bottomless so that she wouldn’t have to face what was about to happen. She could just eat for the rest of her life. Carrie had known this time was coming, but she had hoped not to face it until she returned from Cromwell Plantation.

Eating the soup not only filled her stomach, it gave her time to think. Surely their friendship was stronger than a philosophical difference. A quick glance up at their faces, however, had her wondering. It had been a ridiculous hope that she could avoid this confrontation until after she returned. The very same women staring at her across the table were accompanying her to the Harvest Celebration. She had a brief thought that they might have decided not to come, but she quickly pushed it aside. All the women loved the plantation and had talked eagerly of returning. They would not be willing to miss the celebration.

Carrie eyed the bowl with sadness as she spooned the last bite of soup into her mouth, swallowed hard, and sat back. She calmly folded her linen napkin and placed it on the table. “I’m ready to talk.”

Silence stretched out for several minutes. Still, Carrie waited. She had not asked for this confrontation. She would wait to find out what was on their minds.

“Aren’t you going to tell us what you have been doing the last few weeks?” Florence finally demanded, her eyes flashing as brightly as her red hair under the glowing lanterns.

“I have a feeling you already know the answer to that,” Carrie said. Weeks of watching people come back from the brink of death had only deepened her commitment to her decision. She would not be bullied, and she would not be intimidated. That sudden realization brought a surge of energy that pulled back the curtains of fatigue.

“Carrie, you’ve been down in Moyamensing dispensing homeopathic remedies,” Alice said almost desperately.

Carrie nodded. “That is true.” She could have added much more, but she wanted to see where the conversation was going. Were her housemates open to examining their beliefs, or were they just going to criticize?

“Don’t you know that is forbidden by the American Medical Association?” Alice cried. “You’ll be kicked out of medical school.”

“Only if they do it before I withdraw,” Carrie replied. A shocked hush fell over the kitchen. Janie gripped her hand beneath the table and gave it a squeeze. Her touch filled Carrie with courage. “I am planning on withdrawing when I return from the plantation.” She could tell that her housemates had not seriously considered this possibility. She watched them exchange glances as they tried to figure out what to say next.

“You’ve missed weeks of classes,” Elizabeth said, her voice thick with accusation.

“I decided saving the people in Moyamensing was more important than going to class,” Carrie answered. “I thought you would understand that since Biddy is so special to your family.”

Elizabeth flushed. “Don’t make this about Biddy,” she said sternly. “What you’ve done is wrong.”

Carrie gazed at her friend, surprised at the formal rigidity in her voice and posture, though she wasn’t sure why she would be. Elizabeth’s father was a physician. He had been very involved in the founding of the American Medical Association. He was also, though his position was unpopular at times, a champion of the Female Medical College. “How is it wrong?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain gentle.

Elizabeth stared at her. “You know it is forbidden for anyone associated with the American Medical Association to be involved with homeopathy,” she said, her voice bordering on pompous.

“Which is a ludicrous position.” Carrie realized nothing about this conversation was going to be pleasant, so she might as well dive in headlong. She had a sudden vision of herself as a young girl diving off of a boulder into the James River on a hot summer day. She had always felt it was a leap of faith, and she had always been surprised by the silky feel of the water enveloping her, and the rush of breaking free to frolic in the river. The only way to have that experience was to dive in. The only way to deal with what was in front of her was to do the same thing. “Have you been to the cholera hospital, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth blinked and shook her head.

“I have,” Alice said, sorrow lacing her words. “It’s a horrible place.”

“How many people have left there well?” Carrie pressed.

Now it was Alice’s turn to blink. She thought for a moment and she, too, shook her head. “I don’t know of a single person.”

“That’s because no one comes out of there alive,” Carrie said. “The medicine we are taught to practice has no treatment for cholera.”

“That’s not true!” Florence said.

Carrie, now that she was pushed against the wall, realized she was more than ready for this. “Isn’t it?” she asked. “Every remedy being pushed on the poor people of Philadelphia is nothing more than mixtures of high amounts of alcohol and opium. Oh, they throw some herbs in, but they are nothing more than a cover for what is really there.” She saw Florence open her mouth in protest, but she kept talking. “The patent medicines being advertising in every newspaper in this city have never been proven to be beneficial, yet it is perfectly legal for people to advertise them and sell them. Have you seen the factory downtown? It’s a bottling factory for Parker’s Tonic.” She paused and stared at Florence. “Do you know Parker’s Tonic is over forty percent alcohol?
Any
ingredient, even if lethal or addictive, can be put into a bottle and legally sold without that ingredient being listed on the label. If that’s not bad enough, many of these so-called medicines are also full of opium. I found people taking it down in Moyamensing because it is touted as stopping pains in the stomach and bowel complaints. When they started feeling ill from cholera, they were drinking a tonic full of alcohol and opium. No wonder they were dying!”