Spring Will Come (37 page)

             
Carrie nodded, examining the man standing in front of her.  He was still the same well-dressed, middle-aged man she remembered, but she could not miss the deep lines of fatigue and concern etched into his kindly features.  “I am so sorry I have not been to see you,” she said.  “I arrived in the city about the middle of May and have been working in the hospital ever since.”

             
“Say no more,” Pastor Anthony interrupted.  “I understand only too well.  There are very few buildings not full of wounded soldiers now.  I have seen the heroic care the women of the city have given.”

             
“How are you, Pastor?”

             
“We can talk about me in a few minutes.  How are your friends?  Did they make it home?”

             
Carrie nodded her head joyfully.  “So much has happened...”  Suddenly she remembered Janie and turned toward the carriage.  “Please let me introduce you to a friend of mine.”  After the introductions had been made, she turned to the pastor.  “I have plenty of time to do my shopping.  Why don’t we go sit in Capitol Square and talk for a few minutes.  Do you have time?”

             
“Certainly,” he agreed. 

             
The shade from the trees covering the benches offered a welcome respite from the searing August heat.  After finding a seat somewhat out of the flow of heavy traffic, Carrie turned to Pastor Anthony.  “Rose and Moses made it to Philadelphia.  I know very little about how it went.  I got a short letter one night only telling me they had reached their destination safely.”  She chose not to tell him about Moses’ being a Union spy and helping her escape the plantation.

             
“I’m so glad,” Pastor Anthony said fervently.  “The Underground Railroad has pretty much faded out of existence now.  There are huge numbers of slaves simply walking away from their owners and heading north to freedom.  The war has given them cause to believe freedom is just around the corner.”

             
“Do you think it is?” Janie asked hopefully.

             
“I hope so, but I have no way of knowing.  All I know is I’m thankful for whatever gives them the courage to make decisions for their lives.”

             
“Do you know anything of Eddie?” Carrie asked.  She had not been able to get near the prison where Eddie, Opal’s cousin whom she had lived with for a while, was incarcerated on charges of spying and anti-war activities.  All she had been able to do was offer Opal and Eddie’s children a safe place on the plantation when he had been imprisoned and his wife killed in a factory explosion.

             
“Castle Thunder is an awful place,” Pastor Anthony said grimly.  “I have heard Libby Prison is like a haven compared to it.”

             
Carrie shuddered.  “There’s nothing that can be done?”

             
“I’m afraid not.  The Confederate authorities are cracking down hard on anti-war activities.  The man they have in charge of the prison is a brute.  The best we can hope for is that Eddie will not get caught up in the fever to hang spies.  Are Opal and the kids safe?”

             
“They were the last I knew,” Carrie replied.  Her frustration mounted as the number of unknowns in her life grew.  “As far as I know, Cromwell Plantation has not been destroyed.  While they are there, they will at least be able to eat.”

             
Pastor Anthony changed the subject.  “How is your work in the hospital going?”

             
“Exhausting, but rewarding,” Carrie said simply.  “I have nightmares every night and wake up every morning wondering which of my patients is going to die that day, but I am learning, and I hope I’m making a difference.”

             
“Carrie is being modest,” Janie interjected.  “She is the only woman carrying the medical responsibilities she has.”

             
Carrie shrugged.  “I’m just doing my job.”

             
Pastor Anthony leaned forward.  “Could you add one more job to your list?” he asked intensely.

             
“What do you have in mind, Pastor?”  Carrie would do whatever she could for the kind pastor.  Without his help, Rose and Moses would not have been able to escape.   She owed him a great deal and respected him highly.

             
“There is a hospital in the black part of town,” he began.

             
“I didn’t know that,” Carrie responded, surprised.  “Not that I know every hospital.”

             
“I’m not surprised you’re ignorant of it.  It’s really a rather loose use of the term.  It is really just my attempt to help the blacks of Richmond.  It can be almost impossible to obtain medical help anywhere else.”

             
Carrie listened closely, drawn by the appeal in his voice.  She knew he cared deeply for the black people in his church.  “Where is it?”

             
“Three buildings down from my church.” 

             
“Who is running it?”  Carrie inquired.

             
Pastor Anthony smiled slightly as he shrugged his shoulders.  “I’m afraid I am.”

             
“I didn’t know you knew anything about medicine.”  Carrie couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

             
“I don’t,” he said apologetically.  “But I couldn’t stand seeing the people...  I mean... I had to do something.”

             
Carrie nodded.  She understood Pastor Anthony’s heart.  She turned to look at Janie and knew they were thinking the exact same thing.  Turning back to the pastor, she asked, “Why don’t you take us there?”

             
“When?” Pastor Anthony asked in amazement, disbelief on his face.

             
“No time like the present,” Carrie said.  “Shopping can be done anytime.”  Her voice grew serious.  “I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try my best to help.”

             
“I will, too,” Janie agreed.

             
“Supplies are becoming very short all over the city,” Carrie continued.  “The blockade is working too well, I’m afraid.  There are many medicines becoming harder to obtain.”  She shook her head.  “Until I see the place and some of your patients, I won’t know what we can do.”

             
“I would appreciate anything,” Pastor Anthony replied fervently.

             
“Is there a doctor?”  Janie asked. 

             
Pastor Anthony just laughed a mirthless laugh.

             
“I’m not a doctor, Pastor Anthony,” Carrie said quietly.  “But Janie and I have seen a lot since we began at Chimborazo.”   She stood.  “I’ll have my father’s driver take us down there.  Spencer has become somewhat used to my strange requests.”

             
Just then a loud laugh filtered through their concentration.  Hearing something familiar in it, Carrie glanced up.   She almost groaned out loud when she saw Louisa staring back at her.  She was in no mood to put up with her shallow friend today.  “Hello, Louisa,” she managed to say pleasantly.

             
“Well, if it isn’t Carrie Cromwell,” Louisa replied with a hateful sneer.  “Look, girls,” she said to the young women accompanying her.  “Do you remember my telling you about my former neighbor who has so humiliated her father and her friends by becoming a nigger lover?”

             
Carrie took a deep breath as she struggled to control her anger.

             
Janie reached out to touch her arm.  “She’s not worth it,” she said quietly. 

             
“Thank goodness there are still those among us who know how to love all of God’s creation, miss,” Pastor Anthony said with a gentle smile.  “I think it’s possible you don’t understand the love he has for you.”

             
Louisa stared at Pastor Anthony, her lips curling in scorn.  “And who are you, old man?”

             
Carrie gasped, shocked at Louisa’s disrespect.  “Louisa Blackwell!” she gasped.  “This is Pastor Marcus Anthony.”

             
Louisa edged closer, her eyes narrowing.  “I’ve heard about you,” she said to the pastor.  “You’re the pastor of that black church down by the river.”

             
“That’s right,” Pastor Anthony agreed, a gentle smile still on his lips.

             
Louisa pounced.  “I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself.  A healthy man like you ought to be fighting this war, not playing God to a bunch of niggers who don’t have souls anyway.”  Her voice was strident, causing a number of people to turn their heads and stare.

             
Carrie had heard enough.  “Louisa Blackwell, I’m ashamed of you,” she said in an indignant voice.

             
Louisa merely laughed.  “Oh, fiddle, Carrie Cromwell.  You must know by now I don’t care one iota what you think of me.  You made it clear long ago that you had taken leave of your senses.  Thank heavens there are still people who can think - who can see people like you for what they really are.  A South-hating, nigger-loving traitor.”

             
Pastor Anthony stood, his voice controlled but firm.  “Miss Blackwell, I have just met you, but I feel the need to say something.  The word ‘nigger’ is completely reprehensible to me.  The word means ignorant - if you care to look up the meaning for yourself.  It has absolutely nothing to do with race or societal status.  I have discovered it is used by people who are much more ignorant than the people they try to malign.”  He turned to Carrie and Janie.  “Would you like to be going now, ladies?”

             
Carrie glanced back once and smiled at the sight of Louisa standing with her mouth open, silent for once.

             
“A rather pitiful young woman,” Pastor Anthony remarked.  “Has she always been so unhappy?”

             
“I’d say she brings most of her unhappiness on herself,” Carrie retorted, still seething with anger. 

             
“That may be,” Pastor Anthony responded.  “But unhappiness is still a miserable thing.  I would not want to live with the poison in her heart, no matter what caused it.”

             
Carrie was quiet, pondering his words, but still angry at her former friend.

             
It was not until they were in the carriage that Pastor Anthony spoke again. “May I share a thought with you?”

             
Carrie nodded somewhat reluctantly.  She was pretty sure the thought was aimed at her anger – an anger she preferred to hang onto for a while longer. 

             
“Carrie, no matter what you do, someone is not going to like it.”  He turned to Janie.  “The same thing goes for you.”  He looked back at Carrie.  “Both you girls are different.  A
good
different - but a lot of people won’t see it that way.  They are threatened by your love and acceptance of blacks because they perceive it as a threat to their own self-image and position.”

             
“But it’s not!” Carrie cried.

             
“Of course, it’s not,” Pastor Anthony agreed immediately.  “But fear is not governed by reason.  It is governed by the emotions of the heart.”  He paused.  “That’s not what I wanted to say, though.  It’s true that no matter what you do someone is not going to agree with you.  I’ve learned that all I can do is make my decisions the best I can and then resolve to live with the consequences.  There will always be someone to attack you no matter what you decide to do.  The big question is whether
you
can live with your actions.   Once you’re quite sure of how you feel about yourself, it’s easier to find humor in situations when people attack you.”

             
Carrie stared at him.  “I understand about making your decisions and living with the consequences, but I’m afraid I see nothing funny in what just happened with Louisa.”

             
“She sure did look funny standing there in the middle of Capitol Square with her mouth wide open,” Janie said slowly.

             
Pastor Anthony smiled.  “And it seemed to me the people who were looking, were looking more at her.”

             
Carrie tried to enter the game.  “Louisa’s ears always turn a little red when she gets angry.” 

             
The three looked at each other for a few moments and then dissolved into laughter.  When they stopped laughing, Carrie discovered she was no longer angry.  “You’re right, Pastor Anthony,” she said thoughtfully.  “I do feel sorry for her.”

             
Pastor Anthony nodded.  “She must be a truly lonely person.  It is very hard to receive love when you have none to give.”

             
Carrie pondered his words as the carriage rattled through the streets.  He was right.  All anyone could do was make decisions and live with the consequences.  She had made her decision about slavery.  She could accept the consequences with bitterness or with humor and loving acceptance.   She knew it would probably always be a battle for her.  Her temper was too hot and quick when people attacked something she believed in.  Her own thinking brought her up short.  She was really no different from the people whose hot tempers had started the war.  She just happened to be hot-tempered about something different.  The realization was sobering.