Storm Clouds Rolling In (39 page)

NINETEEN

Abigail met Thomas at the door with a warm kiss. “Welcome home, Thomas.”

Thomas returned the kiss and held her close for a long moment.

Carrie watched them and then ran up the stairs to hug her mother.
“It was wonderful, Mama! Richmond is even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Abigail laughed.
“I’m glad you’re home. I had no desire to go along on the trip, but I missed you both.” She squeezed Thomas’s arm. “The house seemed empty without your warm laugh, dear.” The three walked arm-in-arm into the house while Carrie chattered nonstop about the last several days.

Carrie interrupted her own chatter as they entered the parlor.
“Mama, I forgot to tell you the best news! I’m going to Philadelphia.”

Abigail settled herself into a high wingback chair, listened intently while Carrie filled her in on the details and then looked at Thomas with raised eyebrows.

Thomas nodded, not saying anything until he had filled his pipe and had smoke curling toward the ceiling.
“I spoke with Natalie’s mother about it before we left Richmond. Her sister is an upstanding citizen in Philadelphia and has wanted Natalie to visit for years. I daresay they will experience everything Philadelphia has to offer. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

“Indeed it is,” Abigail said.
“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Safe?” Carrie asked, deciding to ignore her father’s earlier suggestion that the North might not welcome a wealthy
, Southern plantation owner’s daughter. “Why wouldn’t it be safe, Mama?”

Abigail turned to Thomas.
“Ten slaves ran away from the Blackwell Plantation last night.” A strident note had crept into her voice. “The slave hunters are already out looking. It’s those blamed abolitionists,” she cried, fear and rage darkening her eyes. “They’re going to turn all our people against us. Why, they might harm Carrie if she goes north. It’s quite obvious she is well-to-do. They might target her as a plantation owner’s daughter.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and disappeared up the stairs to her room.
She would let her father handle her mother’s latest tantrum. Nothing was going to keep her from making that trip to Philadelphia. Not even if
she
had to run away.

“Welcome home, Miss Carrie.”

The mutinous lines on Carrie’s face disappeared as Rose moved forward to greet her. The two friends hugged for a moment until Rose stepped back. Carrie sensed, rather than saw, the reserve in her friend. She decided to ignore it. She had plenty of other things to think about.

“How was Richmond, Miss Carrie?”
Rose stepped away and began to unload the trunk Sam had already delivered to the room.

“Richmond was wonderful.”
Carrie’s voice lacked the enthusiasm she had greeted her mother with.

Rose looked up with a question in her eye.

Carrie shrugged.
“There were many wonderful things, but there were things that troubled me as well.” She was so glad to be home with Rose. She desperately needed someone to talk to. “I went to a slave auction, Rose.” Rose stiffened and turned back to the trunk as Carrie described it. Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes as she recounted Hannah being separated from her family. “It was horrible, Rose! It almost broke my heart.”

Finally, she noticed Rose was working steadily, her back turned.
“Rose! Aren’t you listening to me?”

Rose nodded.
“I’m listening, Miss Carrie.”

“Well, then,” Carrie said in an exasperated tone, “why don’t you turn around and look at me
? Don’t you have anything to say?”

Long moments passed as silence filled the room.
Slowly, Rose turned to face her. Carrie stared at the set, impassive features in her friend’s face. “How can you look like that? Don’t you care what happened to those slaves?” Carrie cried.

Rose stared hard at her, then dropped her eyes, and shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
“I care, Miss Carrie.”

Carrie looked at her friend.
She couldn’t miss the trembling pain in Rose’s voice and eyes. Carrie was suddenly furious with herself. “I’m sorry, Rose,” she said softly. It was Rose’s turn to stare. “I forgot you don’t have a father because he was sold.” Tears welled in Carrie’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think I understood until now.” She continued in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry you don’t have a daddy.”

Rose stood still as a statue.

Finally, Carrie looked up.
“Is your mama doing okay?” When Rose nodded, she simply said, “I think I’m going to go down and visit her today.”

“
Mama will be happy to see you,” Rose said as she turned back to finish the unpacking.

Carrie slid off Granite and handed the reins to Miles.
“He’s still wet from our run, but I walked back the last half mile to make sure he is cool.”

Miles nodded and smiled.
“You always takes good care of him, Miss Carrie. I’ll make sure he gets a good groomin’ and some grain.”

Carrie smiled gratefully and turned toward the
quarters. She had hoped her run on Granite after supper would clear her head, but the confusion and heaviness were still there. She was going where she had always gone when she was little and this confused. She was going to Sarah.

Carrie sat rigidly in the hard chair across from Sarah.
Once the initial greetings had been taken care of, a deep silence had fallen over the room. Bright sunshine still danced through the open door, but Carrie was unable to enjoy the performance. She knew Sarah wouldn’t hurry her, but she was impatient with her own inability to articulate her thoughts.

“Do you miss John?” she finally blurted out, looking up in time to catch the flicker of pain across the lined face.

“Yessum, I miss my John.”

Carrie looked sharply into her face.
She saw no sign of anger or condemnation on the peaceful features. Just quiet acceptance. “How can you stand having him gone? Knowing he was sold?”

Sarah peered deeply into Carrie’s eyes and smiled gently.
“You be askin’ ‘bout my John, but yo’ heart be wantin’ to know more.”

Carrie’s lips quirked upward in spite of her turmoil.
“You always did know me a little too well.”

“If you didn’t want somebody to be knowin’ you, you wouldn’t have come to see old Sarah.”

Carrie sighed. “You are right as usual, Sarah. I’m very confused right now.”

Sarah nodded and settled back into her chair.
“Let’s be talkin’ ‘bout dat confusion, Miss Carrie”

Carrie looked into her caring face.
“It’s slavery, Sarah. I’ve been told all my life that it is right. Actually, I never even questioned it, until recently. Now I’m questioning all of it.”

Sarah smiled again.
“You be pickin’ a strange one to come talk to ‘bout slavery, Miss Carrie.”

Carrie shook her head.
“No, I’m not. Don’t you see? I need to talk to someone who
is
a slave. Someone who will be honest with me.” She paused. “You’ve always been honest with me, Sarah. Please don’t stop now.”

Sarah settled back in her chair and stared thoughtfully at Carrie.
Finally she began to speak. “I think ‘bout my John ever’ day. The nights—dey be the longest tho. Don’t reckon I’ll ever quit wonderin’ where he be—what he be doing.” She shifted in her chair and leaned forward slightly. “I had to let him go, Miss Carrie. He’ll always be in my heart and mind, but I had to let go the longin’ or it would have plum killed me.”

“How did you let it go, Sarah?”

Sarah closed her eyes briefly. “I done give my John to de Lord, Miss Carrie.”

Carrie shook her head impatiently.
“But aren’t you angry?”

“Not no more.”

“But why?
What stopped you from being angry?”

Sarah smiled then
—a smile of peace and victory. “De Lord done took all my anger, Miss Carrie. He washed me clean in de river.” Her face glowed as she told how the Lord had met her while she was trying to take her life in the James River.

Carrie, leaning forward, soaked up every word.
There was no denying the peace on the old woman’s face, but still Carrie wasn’t finding out what she wanted to know. When Sarah finished and sat back, Carrie sighed in frustration. “That’s wonderful, Sarah.” Carrie knew all about God. That wasn’t what she’d come for though.

“There ain’t no answers to life without God square in de middle of it, Miss Carrie.”
Sarah seemed to know what she was thinking.

Carrie shook her head.
“Maybe,” she said shortly. “What I really want to know is how you feel about slavery deep down inside. Not how you’ve been able to deal with it, but how you really feel about it.”

Sarah turned and looked out the door.
The bright sunshine was now a golden glow turning her sordid little cabin into a tiny palace. Slowly, she turned back toward Carrie. “Miss Carrie, ain’t nuthin’ but the truth gonna satisfy you. I ain’t afraid of truth. I be afraid of what it might do to you. I ain’t so sure you be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I thought you told me the truth sets people free,” Carrie responded.

Sarah sighed and smiled slightly. “So I did, Miss Carrie.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment. Then she looked up, her eyes peaceful. “Ain’t nothin’ more I’d like den to be free, Miss Carrie. Slavery don’t just take a person’s body. It tries to take their soul—their mind. It tells dem they ain’t really a person. They just a thin’ to be used by someone else.”

“My Father says it is our destiny to own slaves because you can’t take care of yourselves if left to be free.”

Sarah looked at her. “You figur’ dat to be true?”

Carrie shook her head.

“It’s true dat some black folk ain’t as smart as some white folk, but dats just because dey ain’t had the chance to learn.”
She paused, a quiet twinkle in her eyes. “I know some white folk who ain’t nearly as smart as some black folk I know. The color of the skin don’t make no difference. It’s what be in the head and heart that count.”

“Do you think it’s wrong for white people to own slaves?”

The silence built between them again. Finally, Sarah looked up. “What I think don’t make no difference, Miss Carrie. It’s what you think that counts. That be a decision you got to be makin’ on your own.” Carrie groaned in frustration and Sarah smiled gently. “You got to keep lookin’ round you. Ask God to show you the truth. He’ll do it.” She hesitated, a troubled look on her face. “You know you could be borrowin’ trouble for yo’ self?”