Storm Clouds Rolling In (59 page)

Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as the battle intensified, knotting her stomach
until she felt sick. What was the
truth
? She knew what other people thought, but she desperately needed the truth. They all claimed to base their beliefs on scripture, but they couldn’t all be right.

Ask me.

The voice was inaudible, but clear in her heart. Carrie’s eyes drifted to the Bible in her lap.

My voice is the only one that counts.
The only way to know truth is to know my heart.

Tears filled Carrie’s eyes as she rose, turned toward the log, and sank to her knees.
Resting her arms on the moss-covered surface, she raised her eyes toward the sky. “God, please. What is the truth?” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably as the confusion of the past six months overwhelmed her.

Gradually she calmed.
She had no idea how long she had been there when she finally raised her head. She looked toward the river and was shocked to see the sun dipping below the violet horizon. She jumped up and hurried to Granite. Her mother and father would be frantic if she wasn’t home by dark.

“Thank you for being so patient, boy
.” She gave Granite a big hug, led him to the log, and mounted lightly. With a heart full of peace and resolve, she turned toward home. She had her answer. She sang softly as she allowed Granite to pick his way through the darkening woods. She would deal with the consequences of her decisions later. For now, it was enough to know she had her answer. She knew God’s heart.

It was almost dark when Robert stomped onto his front porch.

“You didn’t find them?”
It was more of a statement than a question.

Robert spun to see his mother gently gliding back and forth on the porch swing.

“No,” he said shortly.
“I’m sorry. I guess we’re another statistic of the Underground Railroad. I sent Jacobs to find some slave hunters, but I don’t hold much hope they will find them. Those Yankees have perfected their ability to steal our property.” He made no attempt to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“I’m glad you didn’t find them,” his mother said softly.

“What?” Robert stared at her in disbelief. “How can you say that? Those two women are worth over a thousand dollars each. Do you know how many children they have birthed for us?”

“I don’t care about that.
What I care about is having my son alive.” Her voice broke. “I already lost a husband on a slave hunt.” She lowered her head into her hands and began to cry. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Immediately, Robert was at his mother’s side, holding her hand and stroking her bent head.
“It’s alright, Mama. Everything is alright. Nothing happened to me. Nothing is
going
to happen to me.” He continued to stroke her head and talk to her softly until she had regained control. Then his voice hardened, “I’ll be back soon, Mama. I’m going down to teach the remaining slaves a lesson. They won’t be thinking about running away again soon.”

“You’ve become just like your father.”

His mother’s voice stopped him. “What?”

“You were just a boy when your father died
, but the same hardness and hatred is in your heart. Where did it come from?” she asked helplessly.

Robert stared at her
. Then he stalked off the porch.

Carrie continued to think as Granite cantered down the road.
It was time to talk to her father. She would not leave the plantation until her mother was well, but it was important her father know how she felt—what she believed. They had always been honest. She didn’t want that to change now. She would talk to him tonight.

Thomas was waiting on the porch when she left the barn after handing Granite to Charles.
Carrie ran lightly up the stairs. As she drew nearer, she realized her father was standing at rigid attention. Concerned, she slowed her steps. What was wrong? She glanced up and saw the light still burning in her mother’s window. She must still be awake. Carrie was glad. She wanted to tell her mother she had her answer. She knew her mother wouldn’t understand, but she had hope now that she would accept her.

“Carrie...”

Carrie stopped on the last step and stared at her father, but the shadows hid his face.
His hoarse voice hardly sounded like her father.

“Carrie...”
Again Thomas’s voice drifted off as if he could not force himself to say the words. “Your mother...”

“What, Father?
What is it?” Carrie stepped on the porch now and was able to see her father’s face. She was shocked by the wild eyes and sharp grief etched there. Immediately she knew. Only one thing could cause that look. With a stifled cry, Carrie turned and ran up the stairs, ignoring her father’s startled shout behind her. She turned into the room and came to an abrupt halt, before slowly approaching her mother’s bed.

She was beautiful even in death.
The ravages of the last months had been erased, leaving the smooth, peaceful face she would always remember. Carrie gently picked up one of her lifeless hands, tears flowing.

“I love you, Mama.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Carrie stood on the steps, watching Sam load the last few things of her father’s into the carriage. Thomas, standing rigidly at her side, seemed unaware of the biting November cold. Carrie wrapped her cloak tighter to her body to keep out the invasive wind. She kept her eyes on the carriage to avoid looking at her father. The lines of grief had only deepened in the month since his wife’s death. He had seemed to age over night. Nothing seemed to touch him. She had not been able to reach beyond the wall he had erected to deal with his beloved Abby’s death. Carrie, forced to act on her father’s behalf, had shoved down her own grief. She had no choice but to remain strong.

A recent letter from Governor Letcher, expressing his sympathies and inviting Thomas to Richmond, had been the only thing to penetrate his lethargy.
Carrie, encouraged by the small evidence of interest, had urged him to go. It had not taken long to convince her father to leave Cromwell. He seemed to want nothing more than to escape the constant memories that assaulted him at every turn. He had protested only once at the unfairness of leaving everything in Carrie’s hands before he easily acquiesced.

Carrie watched as her father’s eyes roamed over the pastures.
They had once brought him great joy and satisfaction. Now they symbolized a lifetime of dreams shattered by Abigail’s death. He’d told Carrie that if he didn’t get away, he was afraid he would succumb to the whirling darkness trying to pull him into its endless depths. Maybe in Richmond he would find relief from the unending agony.

“Sam has everything ready, Father.”

Thomas started and focused his eyes on Sam who stood next to the carriage.
Charles had just climbed into the driver’s seat. Steam rose from the horse’s nostrils, only to be whisked away by the wind. Slowly, Thomas turned to look down at his daughter. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you, daughter.”

Carrie’s heart caught at the anguish on his face as he lifted his eyes briefly to his bedroom window.
She forced her voice to be strong. “I hope you have a wonderful trip, Father. Everything will be fine here.”

“I...I don’t know...I don’t know when I will be back.”
Thomas looked down as he spoke.

Carrie’s heart sank, but she kept her voice steady.
“I know, Father. Come home when you’re ready.” There had been no talk of when her father would return. She hoped for the best, but was prepared for the worst. Carrie was now the mistress of Cromwell Plantation. “I love you, Father.” She kissed him gently on the cheek, took his arm, and led him down the stairs. Oh, how she hated to see her father like this. He had always been such a strong man. Now he resembled nothing more than a broken shell.

Carrie watched as the carriage rolled down the driveway.
The wind whipped at her cloak, but she was unaware of the cold now. She had wanted nothing more than to leave Cromwell Plantation. Now she watched as the whistling wind snatched her dreams and carried them above the treetops, far from her reach.

Rose watched Carrie from her bedroom window.
She ached for her friend but didn’t know what to do for her. Carrie had been unreachable since her mother’s death, her only concern to care for her father. Rose knew her friend had buried her own grief in order to survive. As she watched the cold wind whipping at the slender body held in rigid defiance of life, she longed to go and wrap her arms around her.

Rose turned away from the window.
Her mama had asked her to come down to the quarters this morning. Carrie wouldn’t need her for a while. She reached for her cloak and hurried out into the biting wind.

Moses looked up at the sound of the door slamming, and Rose flashed him a smile.
Sam was having trouble with his back again and had asked Moses to do some work at the big house. The labor in the fields was done for the season. All the field hands were doing repair work around the plantation now.

Just to see Moses during the day was enough for Rose’s hungry eyes.
Soon they would be husband and wife. They still wouldn’t be able to live together—she would have to stay in the house—but at least they would be man and wife. Time would take care of the rest.

Rose lowered her head, pressed into the wind, and strode down the dirt road.
She would have sung, but the wind would have whipped the words out of her mouth before they could even be formed. She felt sorry for Miss Carrie, but her own life was overflowing with love and joy. There was only a month to go before the day she and Moses had set for their wedding. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Miss Carrie yet, but she knew she would soon. The biggest change, however, had occurred in her own heart. She was a new person since the night in her mama’s cabin when she had let go of all the hate.

“Well, looky what we got here.
A nigger woman!”