ones by the auction block and that they want to reunite from the people they have been torn apart from.” She paused and looked up into the leaves of the tree as a wind sprang up to toss them in a merry dance. A glance over Janie’s shoulder revealed the last glimmer of light on the horizon before darkness cloaked the day.
“I don’t believe they are looking for more fighting. I’m sure there are some who are angry and looking for revenge, just as there are with white people looking for the same. But that’s not a racial issue, it’s just a morality issue. Those of us who believe in their right to freedom have to stand up for them and do everything we can to help them live as free people.”
“But what if the white people won’t let it happen?” Janie asked.
Carrie looked deeply into her friend’s eyes and saw something that troubled her. “Do you know something?”
Janie hesitated but shook her head. “Clifford talks all the time about how the southern man will never allow blacks to be their equal. He doesn’t tell me how, but he tells me there are already plans to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Carrie’s heart squeezed with sorrow and regret. “So they’re not going to let the war end?”
Janie only shook her head again. “I just don’t know,” she whispered, fear and pain shining in her eyes.
Carrie gave her a warm hug. “None of that matters right now,” she said bluntly. “Right now I’m only worried about you. Clifford’s anger is growing. So is your fear.” She stepped back to stare into Janie’s eyes. “You’re afraid of your husband.”
Janie opened her mouth in automatic refusal but closed it, her weight sagging against Carrie as tears filled her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice raw with pain. “I am afraid of him.”
“What are you going to do?” Carrie asked evenly, fighting to keep her voice calm.
Janie looked at her now with confusion. “Do? What can I do? Clifford is my husband.”
“Has he hurt you?” Carrie asked sharply, hoping the unexpected question would illicit an honest response.
“Physically?” Janie replied. “Not really. He has grabbed my arms a few times, but he has never hit me. I can’t believe he would ever do that,” she protested.
“Yes, you can,” Carrie responded flatly, “or you wouldn’t be afraid of him.”
Janie closed her eyes for a long moment. “Yes, I’m afraid he will, but it’s more than that…” She paused for a long moment. “I’m disappearing,” she finally murmured. “I can’t seem to remember who I am or what I want or what I dreamed of during the long years of the war.” Tears spilled over to run down her cheeks. “Everything is getting swallowed by his anger and bitterness.”
Carrie prayed for wisdom and the right words. “You don’t have to go back with him,” she said gently. “You can stay here in Richmond and come out to the plantation. We’ll figure things out together.”
Janie stared at her blankly. “Leave him? Divorce him?”
“It’s done,” Carrie replied. “Times have changed. It used to be you could only get divorced because of adultery, but Thomas Jefferson began to change things. Now you can get a divorce for incompatibility.”
Janie was staring at her, her eyes now dry. “Divorce? It can be done, but how women are viewed hasn’t changed. Do you know what the life of a divorcee is like? People would scorn me.”
Carrie searched for what to say. “This from my liberal friend who defied so many societal conventions to work at Chimborazo Hospital?” she asked lightly. “You suddenly care what people think?”
Janie’s eyes flashed with quick anger. “This is different,” she insisted. “I married Clifford for life.”
“Yes,” Carrie said, with a growing anger of her own that she fought to control. “You married a man who promised to love, honor, and cherish you — not frighten you with threats, anger, and abuse.” She took a deep breath to control her
“I don’t believe they are looking for more fighting. I’m sure there are some who are angry and looking for revenge, just as there are with white people looking for the same. But that’s not a racial issue, it’s just a morality issue. Those of us who believe in their right to freedom have to stand up for them and do everything we can to help them live as free people.”
“But what if the white people won’t let it happen?” Janie asked.
Carrie looked deeply into her friend’s eyes and saw something that troubled her. “Do you know something?”
Janie hesitated but shook her head. “Clifford talks all the time about how the southern man will never allow blacks to be their equal. He doesn’t tell me how, but he tells me there are already plans to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Carrie’s heart squeezed with sorrow and regret. “So they’re not going to let the war end?”
Janie only shook her head again. “I just don’t know,” she whispered, fear and pain shining in her eyes.
Carrie gave her a warm hug. “None of that matters right now,” she said bluntly. “Right now I’m only worried about you. Clifford’s anger is growing. So is your fear.” She stepped back to stare into Janie’s eyes. “You’re afraid of your husband.”
Janie opened her mouth in automatic refusal but closed it, her weight sagging against Carrie as tears filled her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice raw with pain. “I am afraid of him.”
“What are you going to do?” Carrie asked evenly, fighting to keep her voice calm.
Janie looked at her now with confusion. “Do? What can I do? Clifford is my husband.”
“Has he hurt you?” Carrie asked sharply, hoping the unexpected question would illicit an honest response.
“Physically?” Janie replied. “Not really. He has grabbed my arms a few times, but he has never hit me. I can’t believe he would ever do that,” she protested.
“Yes, you can,” Carrie responded flatly, “or you wouldn’t be afraid of him.”
Janie closed her eyes for a long moment. “Yes, I’m afraid he will, but it’s more than that…” She paused for a long moment. “I’m disappearing,” she finally murmured. “I can’t seem to remember who I am or what I want or what I dreamed of during the long years of the war.” Tears spilled over to run down her cheeks. “Everything is getting swallowed by his anger and bitterness.”
Carrie prayed for wisdom and the right words. “You don’t have to go back with him,” she said gently. “You can stay here in Richmond and come out to the plantation. We’ll figure things out together.”
Janie stared at her blankly. “Leave him? Divorce him?”
“It’s done,” Carrie replied. “Times have changed. It used to be you could only get divorced because of adultery, but Thomas Jefferson began to change things. Now you can get a divorce for incompatibility.”
Janie was staring at her, her eyes now dry. “Divorce? It can be done, but how women are viewed hasn’t changed. Do you know what the life of a divorcee is like? People would scorn me.”
Carrie searched for what to say. “This from my liberal friend who defied so many societal conventions to work at Chimborazo Hospital?” she asked lightly. “You suddenly care what people think?”
Janie’s eyes flashed with quick anger. “This is different,” she insisted. “I married Clifford for life.”
“Yes,” Carrie said, with a growing anger of her own that she fought to control. “You married a man who promised to love, honor, and cherish you — not frighten you with threats, anger, and abuse.” She took a deep breath to control her
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