Part 19 (2/2)

”Why, just open your eyes and look around. Notice who isn't cheering along with everyone else. Pay attention to the person whose enthusiasm seems a little . . . false.”

I felt my cheeks begin to burn. I had not been among those who'd cheered the Confederate victory at Big Bethel a few moments ago or the capture of Yankee prisoners. But I wanted to run from the room when Mrs. Taylor's daughter Helen spoke next.

”Another way to tell is if they're Negro-lovers.”

The room went momentarily silent. My heart thumped against my corset stays. Helen Taylor had fancied herself Charles' sweetheart before I came along. Neither she nor her mother had ever forgiven me for ”stealing” Charles away. Too late, I realized that Helen was sitting close enough to Sally and me to have observed our conversation over the little slave girl.

”Traitors are always Negro-lovers,” Helen repeated. She and her mother exchanged looks. My instincts urged me to run, to plead dizziness or nausea or some other excuse and leave while I still had a chance, but I didn't know how to escape the tightly packed circle of women without causing a scene. When Helen directed her next question to me, I knew it was too late to run.

”I understand that you once lived up north, isn't that right, Caroline? And don't you still have relatives living up there? I suppose they're all fighting for the Yankees now.”

”None of them are fighting,” I said shakily. ”My aunt and uncle have two daughters.”

”I've heard that Philadelphia is a hotbed of abolition activity,” Mrs. Taylor added. ”I pity you for having to live in such a place. Poor girl-I'll bet they tried to fill your head with their anti-slavery ideas.” All of the ladies had stopped sewing, waiting, as women will, for a fresh sc.r.a.p of news to feed the gossip fires. I had to say something.

”My aunt Martha is a native Virginian.” My voice sounded tiny, apologetic. ”She was born and raised right here in Richmond.”

”Well, how do you you feel about the slavery issue?” Helen asked. ”Do you agree with the Yankees that it's an feel about the slavery issue?” Helen asked. ”Do you agree with the Yankees that it's an evil inst.i.tution evil inst.i.tution?”

I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. I was a coward. I had returned from Philadelphia determined to spend myself on behalf of the oppressed and to let my light rise in the darkness as the Scripture urged me to do. I had once prided myself on being outspoken with Charles and helping to alter his way of thinking. But now I remained silent. Sally did, too, even though she knew the truth.

”Come now, speak up, Caroline,” Mrs. Taylor said. ”You must have an opinion.”

As I vainly searched for a way out of the trap, Mrs. St. John suddenly cleared her throat as if about to make an important announcement. ”Ladies,” she said, her voice dripping gentility like honey, ”perhaps you've forgotten that Caroline was forced to move to Philadelphia after her mother's tragic death. And I think you've also failed to notice that the dear girl is now sitting here among us, p.r.i.c.king her own fingers raw to help the cause. But maybe I should also remind you that she is engaged to my son, Charles. If her loyalty is in question, then so is his.”

Mrs. St. John finished her little speech with a prim smile, then turned to one of her maidservants. ”You may serve us our tea now, Katy.”

When the grueling afternoon finally ended, I returned home, ashamed. Today was only the sewing society's first meeting; I would have to return tomorrow and the next day, working several times a week until the shortage of uniforms eased. I would have to face the same women, the same questions. Mrs. Taylor's suspicions would be confirmed if I didn't return to support the Southern cause. And I couldn't lie to myself and vow to speak out bravely the next time. I would be just as cowardly tomorrow and the day after as I had been today.

Tessie wisely said nothing on the way home. As ashamed as I was of my behavior, I knew that the only way I was ever going to figure out what to do about it was to talk to Eli. I remained inside the carriage after Tessie climbed down. I stayed until Gilbert drove us inside the carriage house and unhitched the horses. When all the others were gone, Eli ducked into the back of the carriage and sat down beside me.

”You planning on sleeping out here?” he asked gently.

I nodded, biting my lip to keep from crying.

”Must be something awful bad happen if you gonna be living in the barn from now on.”

”I don't know where I should live, Eli.” My tears began to fall, but Eli waited, patient as always, until I could speak. ”Some people up north are working so hard to end slavery,” I finally said. ”John Brown may have been misguided, but at least he put his convictions into action, even though it cost him his life. I want to help end slavery, too, but everyone else in Richmond is working very hard to keep it. I don't want to leave my home, but as long as I'm living here and working alongside the other women, I feel like I'm condoning slavery-like I'm helping their cause.”

”You want to tell me what happen today?”

”One of the women came right out and asked me, in front of all the others, how I felt about slavery, if I thought it was an evil inst.i.tution. I didn't answer her, Eli. I'm so ashamed of myself now. I wasn't afraid to tell Charles how I felt, but today I didn't say anything at all to those women. Not one word.”

His mouth twitched with a playful smile. ”Tell you the truth, I'd rather face Ma.s.sa Charles any day than a whole roomful of women.” He made me smile in spite of the situation, but my guilt quickly returned.

”It's worse than that. They were talking about a new law the city council pa.s.sed. Citizens are supposed to report people who sympathize with the North. Anyone who's against slavery might be a spy and could be arrested.”

”That what would happen if you spoke out today? They throw you in jail?”

”I don't know. But I was afraid someone would report me as a suspicious person. I was scared.” I continued staring down at my lap, twisting my hands, too ashamed to face him. ”When I first came back to Richmond I was committed to speaking out. I wanted to serve G.o.d-but now I feel like I've let Him down. I'm nothing but a coward.”

Eli sighed. ”That ain't no surprise to G.o.d, Missy Caroline. He know exactly what's inside each one of us. Now you know it, too. And that's good.”

”How is that good?”

”The Bible ask if a leopard can change its spots? Answer is no no. Leopard can't change its spots-unless couple things happen. First, that leopard has to look in a mirror and see her spots need changing. Then she has to figure out she can't change them all by herself. But G.o.d sure can.”

”So . . . I should pray for courage? Then what, Eli?” I finally lifted my head, looking up into his gentle brown eyes. ”Maybe I'll be brave enough to give my opinion tomorrow, but what if Helen Taylor reports me and I end up getting arrested? What good will I be to G.o.d in jail? Maybe I should have stayed in Philadelphia, where people don't have slaves. Maybe I should go back there now and work for the side that's trying to end slavery instead of sewing Confederate uniforms.”

”I don't think so, Missy Caroline,” Eli said, shaking his head. ”You know the story of Queen Esther? Lord put her in the palace among all them unbelievers for a reason. She have a job to do for Him-when the time's right. I think Ma.s.sa Jesus send you up north, then bring you back here for a reason, too. But I think you have to wait until the time's right. G.o.d gave Esther courage so she could walk right into that throne room saying, 'If I perish, I perish.' But then she waited. She invite that king to dinner two times before she speak her mind. Wasn't because she scared. She waiting for the Lord to say, 'Now, Esther! Now's the time!' ”

”So if they ask me my opinion again tomorrow . . . what should I say?”

”Nothing. Because even if you tell them what you believe, you ain't gonna change a single woman's mind, are you?”

”No, probably not.”

”Don't go running ahead of G.o.d. He's gonna tell you when the time's right. Then whatever you do gonna make a difference. And one more thing-Queen Esther asked all her servants to pray with her. We be praying with you, Missy Caroline. You know we be praying.”

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I lived in a continual state of suspense that July, not only waiting for the war to begin in earnest but waiting for G.o.d's call to act. Tessie and I read the story of Queen Esther, and the words of Scripture seemed to s.h.i.+ver through me: ”And who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this.” I felt as though I was waiting to be called into battle, just as the two huge armies that were mustering near the Potomac waited for the battle that was certain to come.

Sally dragged me downtown for the Fourth of July celebrations, which included an eleven-gun salute-one for each state in the Confederacy. ”Come on, Caroline. Show a little excitement,” Sally urged when she noticed that I wasn't clapping and cheering like everyone else.

”I'm very tired,” I said-which was true. ”I've been so worried about Charles that I haven't been sleeping.”

The next day Tessie and I read in the paper that in Lincoln's Fourth of July speech he had asked Congress for 400,000 soldiers and four hundred million dollars to wage war. The Northern armies rallied behind the cry ”Forward to Richmond.” Their goal was to conquer our city before the Confederate Congress had a chance to a.s.semble for the first time on July 20. The newspapers also announced the answering cry of the Rebels-”Independence or Death.” I felt like a pa.s.senger on board a s.h.i.+p that had become unmoored, floating toward certain disaster.

I did return to Mrs. St. John's sewing society but remained wary of Helen Taylor and her mother. As we worked, I sensed a new mood of anxiety among the women, barely concealed behind a facade of busy hands and idle chatter. The strain of waiting for news-with both longing and fear-was evident in our brittle voices and unsteady hands. This mood of apprehension thickened and settled over all of us, becoming as oppressive as the humid July air. Then the production of uniforms was suddenly halted and we were put to work at a new task-preparing bandages.

Early one evening after supper, Charles' father drove up Church Hill to pay me a visit. I invited him into Daddy's library and asked Gilbert to pour him a drink. My nerves jumped as I made small talk, waiting for him to come to the point of his visit.

”You've heard from Charles, I suppose?” he asked as Gilbert offered him one of Daddy's last few cigars.

”Yes, I've had a few letters. He and the others are well, but they haven't had much time to write, between marching for days on end and digging fortifications.”

”He's probably eager to get the fighting underway, eh?”

I nodded, unwilling to share everything that Charles had confided- how unprepared he had been for the heavy marching and other privations of army life; how the suspense and the fear of the unknown ate at him like a disease; how he agonized over what he would do when he faced enemy fire for the first time and he would be forced to aim his weapon at another man.

”I certainly do envy all these young men,” Mr. St. John said, settling comfortably into Daddy's chair. ”If only I was younger and not crippled with this blasted rheumatism, I would love to join them. As it is, there's nothing much I can do besides serve in the Home Guard.”

”That's an important job, too,” I said, not insincerely. ”The Union forces would like nothing better than to capture Richmond.”

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