Spring Will Come (67 page)

             
Carrie watched as all the patients joined in - men with missing legs, men with stubs for arms, men blinded from minie balls, men weak from infections ravaging their bodies.  Hope and joy erased the pain and suffering from their faces.   For these few minutes, the reality of the war melted away.  For just a little while, they could believe in peace on earth.  It was Christmas.

Rose sighed contentedly and snuggled close to Moses’ strong warmth.  June and baby Simon were staying with Aunt Abby in the teachers
’ lodging.  Several of the teachers had gone north for the holidays, so it had been an easy matter to arrange a room for them.  Christmas Day had passed in a haze of laughter, conversation, and great joy.   Even the wind whistling through the cracks in their house couldn’t dim Rose’s contentment.  There were plenty of blankets and Moses was beside her.  She could ask for nothing more.  “Moses,” she said softly.

             
“I thought you were asleep,” he chuckled then rolled over on his side and looked down at her. 

             
Rose ignored the invitation she saw in his eyes.  “I’ve been thinking.”

             
“Sounds serious,” Moses teased, reaching out to touch her face.

             
“I want us to have a last name,” she said.  “I want our
baby
to have a last name.”             

“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” Moses agreed, immediately serious.  “I’d say it’s time we made a decision.  You have any ideas?”

              “I been thinking about it ever since I knew we were going to have a child.”  She hesitated.  What if he didn’t like her idea?

             
“And?” Moses prompted. 

             
“I’d like our last name to be Samuels,” Rose said firmly.  “For your daddy - Samuel.  You’ve told me how he longed for freedom - for himself and for his family.  Now we’re free.  June is free.  Our baby is going to be born free.  What he dreamed for his family is coming true.  Someday your mama and Sadie will be free...”  Her voice trailed away.  She held her breath, waiting.

             
“Samuels,” Moses said slowly, letting the name roll off his tongue.  Then he nodded, his handsome face outlined in the fire’s flickering flames.  “I like it,” he said with deep satisfaction.  “You’re right.  My daddy wanted freedom more than anything in the world.  He’d be pleased to know we were taking his name.”

             
Rose released her breath. 

             
“Samuels.”  This time Moses’ voice was strong; their new last name bounced off the cabin walls and floated above their heads.   He grinned again.  “Moses Samuels.”

             
Suddenly Rose was laughing.  “You should hear yourself.  You sound like a little boy who just got a new toy!”

             
“And so what if I do?”  Moses demanded, a gleam in his eye.  “It’s fun to be a little boy sometimes.  They get away with all kinds of things!”  He laughed loudly.  “Like this!”

             
Rose shrieked with laughter as he quickly flipped her onto her back and began to tickle her.  “Stop!  Stop!” she cried.  Her attempts to tickle him back were futile.  Finally he gave in to her cries and stopped.                             

             
“I want you to know you deserved much more than that.  I was merely having mercy on our child,” Moses said smugly.

             
Rose’s response was to stick out her tongue impudently.  “You’re hardly more than a child yourself,” she replied haughtily, quickly realizing her mistake as the gleam once more appeared in Moses’ eyes and he began his torture anew.  Her shrieks of laughter rang through the cabin again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

             
The year 1863 blew onto the world with cold winds and frigid temperatures.  Even the Deep South was gripped by the coldest weather it had experienced in years.  If Mother Nature was trying to cool men’s passions, it was a futile attempt.  Fighting continued anew in the Mississippi Valley while new battles erupted throughout Tennessee and Kentucky. Soldiers struggled to survive in frozen camps with inadequate food and shelter.   Wives cried for their husbands while little children whimpered with hunger.  Mothers patted their stomachs, remembering their soldier boys when they were little babies, still innocent and unharmed.  Remembered - and longed for those times.   Blood soaked deep into the soil on ravaged battlefields then froze, staking its claim on land that would long remain fruitless. 

Aunt Abby held Rose close until the impatient scream of the ship’s whistle made her let go reluctantly.  “I’m going to miss you,” she said quietly.

              “I will miss you, too, Aunt Abby,” Rose replied, blinking back the tears in her eyes.  She was so glad Aunt Abby had been able to stay on two more days after Moses had left to return to duty.  They had talked for hours, and Aunt Abby had visited her school and met many of her friends.

             
“You’ll think about coming to Philadelphia to have your baby?”

             
“I’ll think about it,” Rose promised again.  The idea of being in Aunt Abby’s house to have her child was very appealing, but she couldn’t imagine leaving the people in the camps. 

             
Aunt Abby turned toward the dock then spun around for one final hug.  “I’ll make sure more supplies come your way soon.  I thought I was sending a lot before.  I realize now how pitifully inadequate it was.  Once I’ve mobilized my forces at home, barrels will start pouring in.”  She waved her hand merrily, brushed away the tears in her eyes, and darted up the landing just before a shipman started to pull it up. 

             
Rose stayed where she was, ignoring the cold wind and waving until the boat was finally too far away for her to identify Aunt Abby.  Only then did she turn and head back for the camps.  The last five days had been full of joy.  She knew the loneliness would settle in anew.  She also knew the memories and love would carry her for a long time. 

Robert stared down at his legs
and futilely commanded them to move.  He sighed and reached for the sturdy oak limb suspended by rope above his bed.  Gabe had rigged the contraption for him.  He’d said there was no reason for Robert’s upper body to wither away just because his legs weren’t working.  When Robert had first attempted to pull himself up, he had been able to lift himself only a few inches before he had collapsed back onto the mattress.  Gritting his teeth, he had reached for the wooden bar again.  Now he was doing twenty pull-ups at a time, his upper body once again hardening with muscle.

             
“Happy New Year!”  Amber called, bouncing down the stairs and running over to climb up beside him.  She leaned over and gave him a resounding kiss on his cheek.

             
Robert smiled and hugged her close.  “Happy New Year to you.”

             
“I had a dream about you last night,” Amber announced importantly. 

             
“And what kind of dream did you have?” 

             
“It was a wonderful dream!”  Amber exclaimed.  “At the end of it, you climbed out of that bed and walked!”  She reached down and patted his useless legs.  “I just know them legs gonna be walkin’ someday.  You just wait and see.”  She climbed down from the bed and scampered to the fireplace.  “I sure am hungry, Mama.”

             
“You always hungry, girl.  I declare, I think you eat more than that big brother of yours!”  Polly laughed, ladled out a big bowl of steaming grits and set it on the table.  Then she dipped grits into another big bowl and carried it over to Robert.  “Reckon we got to keep them muscles of yours growing,” she said. 

             
Robert nodded and reached for the bowl. He had long ago quit trying to analyze his love for this family.  Somewhere along the way, it had quit mattering to him that they were black.  They were simply the people who had saved his life.  He had watched them laugh together, talk, eat, sing, and learn.  Every night they would gather around the fire with a new book, Gabe struggling to read it aloud.  Polly insisted education was the way to a new life for them.  Nothing would get in the way of it.  Robert’s respect and admiration for all of them had grown daily. 

             
When Robert finished eating, he turned to the window.  Great banks of fluffy snow hugged the tiny cabin.  A dull, gray sky, lowering to embrace the wintry landscape, promised more soon.  Once again Robert appreciated Gabe’s building skills.  The little cabin might be rustic, but it was snug and cozy even in this frigid weather. 

             
The door swung open, and Clint eased in, pulling off his boots so he wouldn’t track snow.  He shot a look at Robert but didn’t speak.  Instead, he turned to Polly.   “Mama, wait until you see what I got!”  There was no mistaking the excitement in his voice. 

             
Robert had tried to befriend the boy, but Clint was having nothing to do with him.  Robert couldn’t blame him.  The boy had heard stories all his life about what slave owners had done to his parents. Robert cringed as he contemplated it.  Thank God none of the family knew the things he had done.  They would surely toss him out in the snow without a second thought.  Robert was quite sure even gentle Polly would not let him stay. 

             
“...President Lincoln signed it himself.”

             
Clint’s words pulled Robert back.  He sat straighter and watched Clint pull out a sheet of paper.

             
“The people who gave me this called it the Emancipation Proclamation.  What does that mean, Mama?”

             
Robert sucked in his breath and leaned forward, wishing he could grab the sheet of paper out of Clint’s hand.  He wanted to read it for himself.

             
Polly shot him a look then told Clint.  “Why don’t you go get your daddy?  You can read this to the whole family.”  The attempt to hide the excitement in her voice was futile.  “Hurry,” she commanded.   When Clint dashed from the house, she turned back to the fire, humming softly to herself.