Spring Will Come (60 page)

             
Jeremy shrugged modestly.  “I enjoy my work.”

             
“We need to be going,” Pastor Anthony said regretfully. 

             
Carrie gathered her things, called good-bye to her patients, and climbed into the carriage with Janie and Pastor Anthony.  Dr. Wild followed closely in his own carriage.  The ride home was uneventful, the streets unusually quiet.

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve been thinking about ever since we left the hospital?”  Janie demanded, pulling the covers up to her chin.

              Carrie looked at her for several moments.  “It’s odd,” she finally said then fell silent.

             
“There are a lot of odd things,” Janie finally said in exasperation.  “Would you be so kind as to fill me in on what odd thing you’re referring to?”

             
Carrie smiled slightly.  “Jeremy.  I could swear I’ve seen him before.”  She paused.  “Yet I know I’ve never met him.”  Finally she shook her head and sighed.  “I’m not going to figure it out tonight.  He probably just looks like someone I’ve seen before.”

             
Carrie reached up to turn off the lantern then rolled over to stare into the darkness.  She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen Jeremy before somewhere.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

             
Carrie was up with the sun the next morning.  She could hear her father moving around in his room as she knocked on his door.  “Good morning,” she called. 

             
“What are you doing up so early?”  Thomas asked in surprise when he opened the door.

             
“I wanted to talk to you before you left for the Capitol,” Carrie replied, walking in and settling onto the edge of the bed. 

             
Thomas sat down in the chair next to his fireplace, which was sending off cozy warmth into the chilly room.  “What is it?” he asked quietly.

             
Now that Carrie was here, she didn’t know what to say.  She had rehearsed it in her mind a thousand times before she drifted off to sleep the night before.  It was then she had realized she’d made a mistake in not telling her father.  “I need to talk to you about something I’ve been doing.”  She stopped, unsure of how to continue.  When she looked up, her father was gazing at her steadily.  There was something in his eyes... “You know already,” she murmured, her heart sinking. 

             
“If you are referring to your work in the black hospital - yes, I know about it,” Thomas agreed then sighed.  “Why couldn’t you tell me?” 

             
Carrie cringed at the hurt she saw in his eyes.  “I’m so sorry,” she cried.  “I thought I was protecting you.  I realized last night I was wrong not to have told you from the beginning.  I didn’t want to worry you.”

             
“And you didn’t want me to tell you that you couldn’t go,” he said flatly. 

             
Carrie didn’t bother trying to deny her father’s charge.

             
Thomas shook his head heavily.  “I thought you knew me better than that.”

             
Regret tore through Carrie’s heart.  Jumping up, she moved over and sank down on her knees to stare up into her father’s face.  “I’m so sorry.”  Suddenly she saw it clearly.  She had fallen into the habit of lying to her father when she was helping his slaves escape the plantation.  It had become almost second nature to her.  Even now, it was easier not to tell him what she was doing.  But she also realized she was depriving him of the opportunity to face his own prejudices by hiding her actions.  “Will you please forgive me?” she said contritely.

             
Thomas nodded then grew stern.  “You have to promise me never to lie to me again.  I’d rather be worried sick about you than think you don’t trust me.  I realize this war is crazy, but we’re family - we have to be able to depend on each other.”

             
“I promise,” Carrie agreed instantly, searching her father’s eyes.  There was still a shadow of hurt lingering, but she knew it would be okay.  “How long have you known?”

             
“I’ve known you were hiding something from me for quite a long time.  As far as what it was - about a week.  One of my colleagues saw you going down there.  I made some discreet inquiries and found out what you were doing.”

             
Carrie sighed.  She should have known someone would see her.  “I’m afraid you may hear about it from someone else.”  Haltingly, she told him what had happened the night before.  Her father’s face whitened.

             
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be there?” was all he said when she finished. 

             
“I have to, Father.  I’m all those people have.  It may not be much, but I’m making a difference.”

             
Thomas studied her for a long minute.  Then he got up and walked to his bureau.  “If you’re going to frequent that part of town at night, I want you to take this with you.”  He reached in the bureau and pulled out a pistol.

             
Carrie was shaking her head before he finished speaking.  “I couldn’t take that,” she cried.  She saw the results of gunshot wounds every day.  The very sight of the pistol made her feel sick.

             
Thomas walked over to her and pressed it in her hand.  “If you’re going to go into an area most
men
wouldn’t think about going into, you’re at least going to go armed,” he said sternly then paused.  “I may have to acknowledge my daughter is a grown woman with the freedom to make foolish decisions, but that does not mean I have to sit idly by and do nothing while she tries to get herself killed.  You’re a good shot.  I know you can handle a gun.”  His voice caught.  “Do this for me, Carrie.  Please.”

             
Carrie gazed into his eyes and saw loving desperation.  Slowly she nodded and reached for the gun.

Carrie was laughing, running through tall grass dotted with wildflowers.  Her dress flowed around her as she spun, her arms lifted in wild abandon.  Suddenly, she turned.  “Catch me if you can,” she called gaily.  Then she ran, moving faster and faster away from him.   All Robert could do was watch her fade into the distance, her laughter taunting his inability to catch her.  Then she disappeared.  Only her laugh floated back on the breeze.

              Robert jolted awake, sweat streaming down his face even though the cabin was still gripped with an early morning chill.   Burying his face into his pillow to stifle his groan, Robert tried to gain control of his trembling hands.  The nightmares had become a constant reality, tormenting both his waking and sleeping hours.  The situations varied, but they always mocked and taunted his helplessness.

             
“You all right, Robert?”

             
Robert’s head shot up.  He thought everyone was still asleep.

             
Polly rose from her chair next to a fresh, crackling fire and moved over to put a cool hand on his forehead.  “You burning up!” she exclaimed.  “You sick again, boy?”

             
Robert shook his head wordlessly. 

             
Polly lit a lantern, carried it close to the bed, and hung it on a hook above his head.  She gazed at him for several moments.  “You been having them bad dreams again,” she stated.

             
Robert stared at her.  How had she known?

             
Polly read the question in his eyes.  “I sits up at night lots of times.  Be the only quiet time I has to myself.  I gots to have quiet to think.  I sees you thrashin’ round in that bed.  Don’t you think I knows you gots lots of demons to fight after them battles and finding out you be paralyzed?”

             
Robert was comforted by her understanding.  “I’m awful thirsty.”

             
“I reckon you is.  You probably done sweated out everythin’ you had last night.”  Polly made a clucking noise then quickly filled a water pitcher.

             
Robert drank several glasses before his thirst was quenched.  “Thank you.”

             
Polly nodded complacently.  “I figure we works on your legs again today.”

             
Robert scowled.  “It’s not doing any good, Polly.  I know it puts a strain on your family.  Why don’t we just give it up?  Just call the army and let them know you’ve got a Rebel soldier in your house.  They’ll take me off your hands,” he said bitterly.  He didn’t know why they hadn’t done it weeks before.

             
“What if I don’t want you off my hands?” Polly asked serenely.  “Nope.  I reckon you supposed to be here.  That’s what I’s keep hearing when I’s get quiet enough to listen.”

             
“Listen to what?”  Robert growled.

             
“Why, listen to the Lord, boy.  Who else be tellin’ me such a hare-brained thing?”  Polly laughed softly.  Then her voice grew firm.  “And I don’t want to hear nothing else about us not working with your legs.  Ain’t no reason to believe you ain’t gonna walk again someday.  Auntie JoBelle say she’s see it happen before.  You just got to keep believin’ boy.” 

             
Robert had lost his ability to believe long ago.  Any ideas he had of a loving God had evaporated when he realized he was paralyzed.  The only thing that kept him from laughing when he thought about God healing his legs was respect for Polly.  He didn’t want to make fun of her beliefs.  Why hurt the kind-hearted woman? 

             
“Yep.  We keep right on putting hot rags on your legs and making them move.  One of these days I reckon they move on they own.”

             
“What makes you believe in God?”  Robert asked suddenly then frowned.  He hadn’t meant to ask her that.  He had no interest in even talking about God, but it was too late to retract the question.

             
Polly looked at him thoughtfully for several minutes then reached over to pull up a chair.  “I wants to tell you a story, Robert.”  She stopped, gazing off into the distance as if she was looking at something then turned back to him.  “I’s born on a rice plantation off the coast of South Carolina.  My mama and daddy fine people - love me somethin’ fierce. They got treated real good. Then our owner run up onto some hard times.  Had to sell all his slaves.  We got put on the auction block one at a time.  I’s only five years old when I got bought by a fella in Virginia.  Ain’t never see none of my family again.”  She paused, gathering her thoughts.