Spring Will Come (78 page)

             
“Spring will come,” she whispered.  Her voice grew louder.  “Spring will come.”  She spread her arms wide, new hope and life surging into her heart.  “Spring will come.  God promised.”              

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

             
Rose walked slowly to the waterfront to say good-bye to Carter and Mary.  The two teachers, exhausted from a long winter of aid to the contrabands, were returning home for a month long break. 

             
“You sure you won’t come with us?”  Carter asked for what must have been the hundredth time.  “I know how much your Aunt Abby wants you to come to Philadelphia to have your baby,” she said anxiously.

             
Rose smiled, rubbing her stomach lightly.  “Me and this little guy are staying right here.  This is our home now.  At least until the war is over.  We’ll be fine,” she said firmly.  She meant it.  The long winter had been cold and brutal, but the warm winds of April had brought a resurgence of new life.  Her baby was kicking harder every day.  She knew in her heart that it was not long before her little boy or girl would insist on meeting the world.  Part of her heart longed for Aunt Abby but deep inside she knew she was where she was meant to be.  More slaves would be pouring into the camps now that spring had arrived.  If she left now, it would be several months before she could travel.

             
Mary gave her a fierce hug.  “We’ll be back to see that baby in six weeks.  You take good care of yourself.”

             
Rose hugged her back, blinking away the sudden tears in her eyes.  She knew Mary might not return.  At the beginning she had worried about Carter, afraid her frail, gentle friend couldn’t stand the rigors of the camp.  It had been Mary, strong and confident, who had crumbled beneath the demands.  Rose had watched her friend develop deeper and deeper shadows under her eyes.  Mary had grasped at spring with a pathetic eagerness, but it had done little to dispel the shadows.

             
Rose reached for Mary’s hands and knew she might never have another chance to share with her friend what she was thinking.  “My mama used to tell me something,” she said softly.  “She used to tell me that some people stagger under the burden of failure because they were never supposed to be doing what they were doing anyway.  She said some people try to do things God never gifted them for in the first place.  Then they feel like miserable failures because they don’t succeed.”  Rose gazed deeply into Mary’s eyes.  “My mama didn’t believe anyone was a failure.  She figured those folks just needed to find out what they’re supposed to be doing.  Once they find that out they’ll have all the abilities and gifts they need to perform it.”  She paused again.  “Mary, you’re a very special person.  If you decide not to come back, don’t feel bad.  It only means there is something else you’re supposed to be doing.”

             
Great tears ran down Mary’s cheeks when Rose finished.  “Thank you,” she gulped.  “I thought I could help most by being a teacher.”

             
“You can help most by doing exactly what you’re gifted to do,” Rose said firmly. “If it’s not teaching, you’ll figure out what it is.”

             
Mary squeezed Rose’s hands again then looked toward the boat when the whistle blew shrilly.  “I guess we’d better be going.”

             
The three friends exchanged fierce hugs again; then Rose stepped back and watched them board the towering ship.  She waved until they were out of sight then turned to move slowly back up the docks.  Her baby gave a hard kick.  Rose smiled joyously.  “I sure am glad you waited till spring,” she murmured, “but I must admit I’m rather anxious to meet you.”  She laughed when an even harder kick came, in seeming response to her words.

Robert strode out of the house
and took deep breaths of the warm spring air.  Tossing back his head, he welcomed the rays of the bright sun on his face.  The snow was almost completely melted, daffodils and crocuses pushing through the earth.  Trees sported a soft green hue as new leaves finally dared to come out from their winter hiding.  Birds trilled their songs loudly.  Just as Robert reached the barn, a doe and her fawn burst from the woods, looked at him in alarm, and then turned to dash back into cover, their white tails stiff with fear. 

             
Robert laughed loudly.  Granite heard him and greeted him with a ringing neigh.  “Coming, boy,” Robert called.  Minutes later, he led Granite from the barn and swung into the saddle.  It took much more effort than before his injuries, but he accomplished it fairly gracefully.  His objective today was to ride for two hours.  He had been riding for three weeks now.  The first time out his legs had only supported him for five minutes.  He had worked at it hard every day.  He could feel strength returning to his body, buoyed by the explosion of spring. 

             
“Bye, Robert!”

             
Robert turned to wave at Amber.  “I’ll be back soon.”  He stopped Granite when Amber suddenly raced from the cabin.   Granite pranced impatiently until Amber was close.  Then he calmed and lowered his massive head to allow Amber to stroke it. 

             
“I got a surprise for you when you get back,” Amber said with a grin.

             
“What kind of surprise?”

             
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” she retorted then turned and raced for the cabin.

             
Robert laughed and turned Granite toward the trail leading away from the cabin.  Granite tossed his head joyfully and pranced down the trail.  As they did almost constantly now, Robert’s thoughts turned to Carrie.  He was almost strong enough to try to make it home.  With spring would come the preparation for more military maneuvers.  He had no idea where the Army of the Potomac was now, but he was sure its eventual target would once more be Richmond.  If he didn’t leave soon, the risk would be even greater that Northern troops would block him from the city.   Old fears of capture gripped him, but resolutely he thrust them aside.  If he started thinking about everything that could happen, he would never do anything.  There was only one way to get back to Carrie.  He would ride Granite through the lines.

Amber was waiting for Robert when he rode back up to the barn.  “You ready for your surprise, Robert?”

              “Would it be all right if I got something to eat first?” he asked, smiling.  “My ride made me very hungry.”

             
Amber reached down behind a log and pulled up a wooden bucket.  “Mama fixed us lunch.  I helped her,” she said proudly. 

             
“In that case - lead the way.  I will follow you wherever you want to go.”

             
“I’m taking you to a very special place,” Amber said mysteriously.  “Ain’t nobody knows about it except me.”

             
Robert’s mind flashed back to the time Amber had promised to take him to her secret place when he was walking again.  The little girl was keeping her promise.  “I can hardly wait,” he replied earnestly, hiding a smile when Amber’s pretty face beamed up at him. 

             
They were only a couple hundred yards from the barn when Amber seemed to sag beneath the weight of the lunch bucket.  Robert reached down and took it from her hand.  “I understand the one who is being taken to the special place is supposed to carry the meal,” he said seriously.

             
Amber’s expression was equally somber.  “I didn’t know that.  Thank you for telling me.”  Then she put her finger to her lips.  “We need to be quiet the rest of the way.”

             
Robert’s heart swelled with love for the little girl as they glided down a trail then pushed their way through thick overgrowth.  She led the way confidently, a smile of secret importance plastered on her face. 

             
“We’re here,” she finally whispered.

             
Robert gazed around him, charmed by the beauty of the small clearing they had broken out into.  A bubbling creek rushed over a myriad of shiny boulders and sang a melody of spring as it cavorted along.  The soft green moss of the forest floor was dotted with vivid red, yellow, and blue wild flowers.  A squirrel fussed at them from a nearby tree then dashed to the highest branch to chatter his discontent.

             
Amber laughed merrily.  “Mr. Squirrel must not like you being here.  He’ll get used to it, though.  He never fusses at me anymore.”

             
Robert sank down on the moss.  “This is very beautiful,” he said sincerely.  “I understand why it is so special to you.”

             
“It is right pretty,” Amber agreed.  “But that ain’t why it’s so special to me,” she stated matter-of-factly.”

             
Robert waited for her to explain.

             
“I found this place one day when I got lost in the woods.  I was awful scared and lonely.  I wasn’t sure I would ever see home again.  I was crying real hard.  My mama said I was probably so scared I wadn’t thinking straight.  Anyway, that little creek talked to me until I felt better.  Then I just followed it until I came out to a place I knew.”  She paused.  “I can think better when the creek talks to me.  That’s why I come here.”

             
Robert was bemused.  What on earth did a six year old have to think about that was so serious?

             
Amber seemed to read his mind.  “I gots me lots to think about.  I thought about you a lot when you first come.  I knew Clint didn’t like you so much.  He told me not to have anything to do with you.  I came out here to think one day.  The creek told me I should give you a chance.  I guess the creek was right ‘cause I sure love you a lot.”

             
Robert opened his mouth to speak, but she continued on.

             
“I think about some of the people who have stayed with us.  One was a little girl my age.  Her name was April.  She was real scared the whole time she was here.  She was sure them bad slave hunters were gonna catch her and her mama and daddy and beat them like they used to get beat.  They finally got away, but I’ve always wondered what happened to her.” 

             
“You care about people a lot,” Robert said softly.

             
Amber seemed to ponder his words then nodded.  “Clint used to tell me people was bad.  That they was out to hurt me.  I used to believe him.   Now I don’t.”