Carried Forward By Hope (10 page)

Aunt Abby suddenly reached forward and grabbed his hand. “How long have you known about this?” she asked tenderly.

“Since last night.”

“And you haven’t slept a wink, have you?”

Matthew didn’t bother to deny it. A noise in the distance grabbed his attention. A quick look at his watch told him it was time. “We have to leave. The funeral procession will begin soon. I’ve arranged with a friend to watch it from the second floor of his building along Pennsylvania Avenue, but we have to get there before it’s too congested.”

Aunt Abby looked down at the untouched food sitting in front of both of them. “I know we should eat, but I can’t imagine swallowing a bite right now.”

Matthew nodded his agreement and reached out his arm. Aunt Abby took it firmly. Both of them knew it offered equal comfort and strength. They remained silent as they left the hotel, joining with the thousands who had already started to line Pennsylvania Avenue for the funeral procession that would not begin for four hours.

Aunt Abby gazed around her as they made their way down to Matthew’s friend’s house. Thousands already lined the broad dirt thoroughfare, but the silence was deep and profound, grief and confusion radiating from every face. Black crape decorated the front of every building, mocking the bright sunshine. Militia units had already begun to gather in the distance, but nothing happened to mar the almost total silence.

Aunt Abby gripped Matthew’s arm more tightly as they wove through the crowds. She was relieved when they reached his friend’s house. She hated the fear that trembled in her heart — hated the constant watching to see if there was someone else in the crowd with intent to kill. She hated knowing that after four years of war, they were probably worse off as a country than before the conflict had started. The war had done nothing but intensify the hatred and division. She bit back the groan that wanted to escape as she tried to imagine how the country could possibly come together without Lincoln’s steady leadership. “Was it all for nothing?”

Matthew’s understanding squeeze on her hand made her realize she had spoken her thoughts aloud. She gazed up into his warm blue eyes and took strength from what she saw there. She knew he could offer no answers, but the strength she saw gave her hope — hope that somehow the country could find its way from darkness into light.

She took a deep breath as they turned to walk up brick stairs lined with elegant wrought iron railings. When they reached the top stair, she stopped to look over the sea of people who waited solemnly. Every rooftop was full. Trees labored under the burden of people clinging to their limbs. Rows of people lined the street, a veritable wave of black draped buildings standing guard over it all.

******

The funeral procession for the assassinated President Abraham Lincoln began at two o’clock in the afternoon on April 19, 1865.

Matthew and Aunt Abby, along with all the others occupying the rooftop, straightened to rigid, sorrowful attention as the bells began to toll.

Aunt Abby jolted when the minute guns fired, but she was determined tears would not blur her memory of the event. She gripped her hands together as she stood quietly, her head held high.

The crowds watched silently as the procession left the White House and preceded up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. Women dabbed at tears with embroidered handkerchiefs, but nothing marred the silence. It was as if everyone knew President Lincoln deserved somber control after four years of intense effort to hold the Union together. Wild crying and wails of despair would not honor his memory. It would not bring him back, and it would not set the tone for the work that remained to be done. There was as much steady determination as there was grief resonating through the air.

Aunt Abby held her breath as the funeral car drew close. She hadn’t expected it to be so large, though she knew she had no basis for any expectation whatsoever. The entire thing looked to be about fifteen-feet tall — high enough where everyone in the crowd could see the coffin that held their beloved president. The canopy itself was topped with a glimmering gilt eagle and draped with black crape. The hearse was entirely covered with cloth, velvet, crape, and alpaca. The seat was bordered by a splendid lamp on both sides. It was being pulled by six gray horses all holding their heads proudly, as if they understood just how precious their cargo was. Each of them had a groom walking at their head to make sure nothing could go wrong.

Aunt Abby reached for Matthew’s arm as the coffin filed past them. It was at that moment that the stark reality of Lincoln’s death truly penetrated her heart and mind. The knowledge that filled her mind filtered down into her heart, bringing a pain so stabbing she could not breathe. Vowing not to shed a tear, she straightened her shoulders even more.

It will not be in vain
, she promised the president as his body rolled by.
You gave your all to hold this great country together. You gave your all to grant freedom to millions of slaves. It will not be in vain. You may be gone, but there are others of us who will take up the mantle and carry on
.
We will not let the last four years be for nothing
.

She remained rigid as the long lines of government officials and troops filed by, the sound of muffled drums beating out their challenge and comfort to all those who watched.

The silence remained long after the funeral car had reached the steps of the Capitol, long after the coffin had disappeared up the stairs into the Rotunda. No one moved, as if by staying in place they would delay the reality of the president’s death.

Finally the crowds began to disperse. They would return the next day when the coffin would be open for a viewing, but there was nothing more to do other than gather in small knots of people and talk, trying to make sense out of something that was totally senseless.

Carrie pushed her hair back from her face and stared north. She knew from newspaper reports that Lincoln’s funeral train had departed Washington, DC that day, April 21. It was going to wind its way through northern cities, allowing the grieving masses an opportunity to say goodbye to their beloved president for thirteen days before it finally arrived in Illinois, where the president was to be buried. She couldn’t help wondering how many Southerners shared her grief, and how many of them rejoiced that Booth had killed the man they saw as their enemy.

May’s head appeared from the back door. “You gonna just stand over them peas, Miss Carrie, or you gonna actually pick a few so I’s can fix dinner tonight?”

Carrie shook away her thoughts and managed to smile. “I’ll have them right in to you,” she promised, suddenly realizing she needed to hurry. She had to feed Robert lunch before she rode with Spencer to the train station to pick up Aunt Abby. The telegraph with news of her return had arrived the night before. The smile on Carrie’s face was genuine this time as she bent down to fill her basket with peas, adding in some carrots and radishes. She could hardly wait to see Aunt Abby again. She’d been surprised she was returning so soon but was thrilled to have her back.

Her basket was finally full when she turned back toward the house. She felt, more than heard, the bundle of energy rushing toward her. She had just enough time to swing the basket to her other arm before John barreled into her and grabbed her skirt.

“Aunt Carrie! Aunt Carrie!” John squealed, laughing with delight when she almost toppled over.

Carrie laughed and managed to squat down to eye-level with the excited boy. “Hello, John. Where have you been? I’ve missed you.”

John nodded, an important look on his face. “Me and Daddy had to go to town. I wanted to walk, but Daddy said you would skin him good if he did, so we went down in the thing that horse pulls.”

“You mean the carriage?” Carrie guessed. She was glad Moses wasn’t pushing too hard but realized he was probably going crazy being confined to the house.

“Yes! That’s what he called it. It was just me and Daddy,” he said proudly, his face shining brightly. Then his face puckered. “This place don’t look so good,” he said sadly. “Where I came from looks better,” he said firmly.

Carrie hid a chuckle that John could think the shacktown built around Hampton, Virginia for escaping slaves was a better place than Richmond. She quickly sobered when she realized how desolate the burned-out buildings made Richmond look. A lot of cleanup had been done, but charred buildings still reached for the sky and huge piles of rubble waited to be hauled away. It was going to look bad for a long time.

John suddenly twisted away. “Daddy taught me how to play chase last night,” he boasted. “I bet you can’t catch me!”

Carrie opened her mouth to explain she had to get the vegetables into the house for May.

“I figure you’re too old!” John added impishly, his grin lighting up his face.

Carrie laughed, swung the basket down, gathered her skirts, and ran toward John.

John squealed with delight and began to run, dashing behind a tree as fast as his little, pudgy legs could carry him. “You can’t catch me!” he yelled.

Carrie pretended to let him outrun her until she was almost out of breath. The last time she had played chase was with the children down in the slave quarters on the plantation. Sorrow gripped her throat for a moment before she banished it, sped up, and scooped John up into her arms. “I got you!” she cried, tickling him and laughing just as hard as he was.

******
 

Robert was awake when Carrie entered the room, but a quick look at his face had her heart sinking. The joy from her fun with John vanished as she gazed at her husband. His eyes were clear of fever, but they were dull with apathy.

She knew his nights had become a long series of nightmares and flashbacks. She still wasn’t sharing a bed with him, but her cot against the wall swept her into his world of horrible memories. Every time he had a nightmare she would sit on the side of the bed and rub his arm or hold his hand until the worst of it passed. Most times he didn’t wake up. When he did, he very seldom knew who she was. He would just stare at her with terrified confusion until he finally closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

He was stronger physically, but the apathy seemed to suck him in a little more each day. The fever that had burned his body seemed to have dipped into the recesses of his soul and left nothing but dead embers. She had told him nothing of what was going on in the country, but it was as if he knew and decided to distance himself from everything and everyone.

“Hello, dear,” she said softly.

Robert gazed up at her but didn’t speak.

Carrie’s heart sank further. She was sure he knew who she was, but there was nothing she could say that pierced the veil of indifference. His brief period of clarity and communication that gave her so much hope had vanished. She knew the nightmares and memories were destroying her husband’s soul, just as surely as the war almost destroyed his body. She gritted her teeth but kept her voice calm and loving. “I brought you some lunch.”

Robert nodded. His willingness to eat was the only thing giving her hope that the man she loved would claw his way back from the darkness. There had to be some part of him that wanted to live, or he would have simply quit eating. Or maybe he was just aware enough not to want to cause her more pain. Whatever it was, she was simply glad he was still eating.

Carrie was grateful for the warm spring air blowing in through the window, billowing the white curtains and causing sunlight to dance on his soft blue bedcover. She insisted on plenty of fresh air. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said brightly. “The garden is coming along very nicely. I picked a huge basket of vegetables right before I came up.”

Robert gave no indication he had heard her.

Carrie kept on, determined not to let his apathy numb her into non-communication. “I heard from Janie this morning as well. A brief telegram came with the message that she and Clifford made it back to Raleigh safely.” She said nothing about her fears for Janie’s safety. She knew he didn’t have the energy to care, and she didn’t want to introduce more trouble into his already burdened heart.

“I’m picking up Aunt Abby at the train station in just a little while,” she continued, surprised when his eyes flashed a spark of interest and his head turned toward her. “Would you like her to come up and see you?”

Robert stared at her for a long moment and nodded his head once. “She has good eyes,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Carrie agreed. “She’s told me more than once how much she would like to spend time with you. I’ll have her come up when she gets here.”

Robert nodded again but then closed his eyes and turned his head away.