“Well, I agree with all the others,” Saul said quietly. “I wanted to help you, Otis, and I wanted my kids in that school. But now that it’s gone and Mr. Chandler ain’t watching out for us . . .”
Lizzie heard Otis sigh. He gazed out at his fields, his shoulders still straight and strong. “I need time to pray about what to do,” he said. “God is my massa now, and I want to do what He says. If He says to stay here, then I can trust Him to watch over me. If He says to go, then I will. In the meantime, if you and Clara want to go with them, Saul, I won’t have no hard feelings.”
In the distance, Lizzie heard Miz Eugenia’s bell ringing in the dining room. She groaned. She had forgotten all about the white folks and their breakfast. “I better see what they want,” she said. But her mind was miles and miles away as she made her way into the house and down the hallway to the dining room. Where could she and her family go to finally be free and live their lives without worry or fear? Was there any such place in the world?
“Lizzie!” Miz Eugenia said when she walked through the door. “What in the world is going on? Roselle practically threw the butter at me and ran off, and we’ve been waiting for our tea ever since.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” She stopped. Missy Jo was sitting in her place at the table. Lizzie’s entire body sagged with relief. She couldn’t think what to say or do as tears filled her eyes. Missy looked as white as the tablecloth and had dark hollows like bruises under her eyes, but she was alive. Now if only Mr. Chandler was alive, too.
“Lizzie? What is wrong with you today?” Miz Eugenia asked.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered.
“Tell us,” Missy Jo said. “Please.”
Lizzie looked at Missy Jo and saw her nod. She wanted her to tell the truth. “Well . . . we . . . we just got some bad news, ma’am. Our school burned all the way to the ground last night and . . .” She covered her mouth, unable to say the rest, remembering it was her fault.
“What about the Yankee who worked there?” Miz Eugenia asked. Lizzie looked at her, surprised that she would be the one to ask, surprised to see that Miz Eugenia had turned nearly as pale as her daughter. She was sitting perfectly still, her hands limp. For once, she didn’t have her chin stuck way up in the air.
Lizzie swallowed a knot of grief. “They reckon they’ll find him in the rubble, dead.” She heard a loud scrape as Miz Eugenia slid her chair away from the table.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled and hurried from the room. Lizzie stood frozen in place, unsure what to do next. How could anyone expect Lizzie to think clearly when Mr. Chandler was dead and it was all her fault? Missy Mary got up and hurried after her mother, leaving only Missy Jo at the table.
“Lizzie, come here,” she said quietly. She obeyed, crossing the room to stand beside her. Lizzie had no idea what to expect, and her legs began to shake. “He isn’t dead,” Missy Jo whispered.
“W-what?”
“Mr. Chandler didn’t die in the fire. I got there in time, thanks to you and Otis. He’s safe, Lizzie.”
“Oh, thank you, Lord.” She swayed and nearly fell over. Missy Jo jumped up to take Lizzie’s arm, steadying her.
“But please don’t tell anyone else yet. Only Otis. My brother knows I was the one who warned Mr. Chandler and . . . and I don’t know what’s going to happen to any of us now.”
Lizzie lifted her apron and covered her face, weeping into it. She couldn’t help it. Relief and grief and fear and hope all battled inside her. She didn’t know what was going to happen, either—there was no more school and the others all wanted to leave—but at least Missy Josephine and Mr. Chandler were alive. That was good enough news for one day.
31
Eugenia hurried from the dining room as a band of pain tightened around her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The Freedmen’s Bureau had burned to the ground. A man was dead! Why, oh why hadn’t she confronted Daniel when she’d overheard him talking to Joseph Gray? Why hadn’t she tried to stop him? Now her son had killed a man! Her son!
She tried to make her way upstairs to lie down so the girls wouldn’t see that she was ill, but it was too far, the pain too intense. She stumbled into the parlor and collapsed onto the sofa. How could this have happened? What was she going to do? She closed her eyes, willing away the pain, telling herself the news she’d just heard couldn’t be true.
“Mother? Are you all right?” Mary asked in her frightened, rabbit voice.
Eugenia opened her eyes. “I-I’ll be fine . . .” she tried to say, but her words came out strangled, breathless.
She heard Mary running into the dining room, calling, “Josephine! Josephine, come quick!” Eugenia tried to call out to them, to say that she was fine, not to worry, but the pain had squeezed all the air from her lungs and she couldn’t draw a breath. Before Eugenia could stop her, Mary thundered up the stairs to pound on Daniel’s door. “Daniel, wake up! Wake up! Mother needs a doctor!”
Eugenia opened her eyes again and saw Josephine kneeling in front of her. “Mother? Mother, say something! Are you all right?”
She tried to nod, to reassure her. “I’ll . . . be fine . . .”
“You’re not fine! You’re white as a sheet! What should we do? Do you want us to send for Dr. Hunter?”
“No . . . no, don’t.” She remembered what the doctor had told her just a few days ago. That she was strong enough to decide for herself what was best for White Oak and for her family. That she needed to teach Daniel that his attitude toward the Negroes was wrong. David had said that if she would accept change, then she could lead her children by her own example. She wished that David was here to help her, but she knew he was right about that, too: Daniel wouldn’t listen to anything he said because he wasn’t from their social class—and Eugenia had helped ingrain that attitude in her son.
Daniel rushed down the stairs and into the parlor, still buttoning his clothes. Mary was right behind him. Eugenia pulled herself up straight on the sofa, praying God would ease the pain and give her the strength she needed. Before Daniel had a chance to speak, she met his gaze. “Daniel . . . what have you done?”
“What do you mean?”
“Girls, kindly leave the room.”
Neither of them moved. Eugenia didn’t have the strength to insist. Maybe they should hear this, too. “The Freedmen’s Bureau . . . burned to the ground last night,” Eugenia said, struggling to speak against the pain. “The Yankee is dead. I know it was you . . . I heard you talking. Planning.”
Daniel looked away for a moment as if ashamed. When he looked back at Eugenia, she saw his frustration. “I’m fighting for White Oak, our home,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you and my sisters. That’s all my friends and I are doing, don’t you understand? We’re acting in self-defense.”
“I’m sure you believe that, but what you’re doing and the way you’re doing it are wrong. Violence is wrong. The war is over, Daniel. You can’t run around at night killing people.”
“I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Can you honestly tell me that you had nothing to do with the fire last night?”
Daniel paced a few steps in front of Eugenia, running his fingers through his hair, before sinking down in a chair opposite her. “Listen, Mother. I didn’t want you to know what’s been going on because I didn’t want to upset you. I’m trying to protect you from such knowledge and to stop a potential disaster before it happens.” He shot an angry glance at Josephine, who was still sitting at Eugenia’s feet. “But here’s the truth: Josephine has been carrying on with that Yankee from the Freedmen’s Bureau, meeting him secretly.”
“What . . . ?” Eugenia stared at him, then at her daughter. It couldn’t be true. But the expression on Josephine’s face, the tears in her eyes, told her it was.
“We haven’t done anything wrong,” she said. “He’s not our enemy.”
“She’s lying,” Daniel said. “Mary saw them meeting together in the woods. Alone. We found a pile o
f letters he had written to her. That’s why I needed to run him off last night. If the truth got out, it would cause a scandal. Josephine’s reputation would be ruined and so would ours. I had to defend our family’s honor.”
“You were going to kill him!” Josephine shot back. “I heard you. That’s why I warned him. He would be dead right now if I hadn’t gotten there first.”
“So the Yankee is still alive?” Eugenia asked.
“Yes,” Daniel said. “And now, thanks to Josephine, he’ll be back and our town will soon be filled with Yankees, coming for revenge. She betrayed us, Mother.”
“Oh, dear . . .” Eugenia murmured. How could either of her children have done these terrible things? How had everything spun so wildly out of control? The pain in her chest made it difficult to breathe, to speak. But as she listened to her children arguing, the pain in her heart was infinitely greater.
“You and your friends caused these problems, not me,” Josephine said. “You attacked the Negroes’ camp in the woods and beat them up. Two people died. And you tried to burn down the school the first time, too. You can’t blame any of those things on me or say that you were defending our family’s honor.”
“If the slaves claim that we were responsible for the violence, they’re lying.”
“It was you! I know it was. You’re the one who chased them out of the woods.”
“That’s private property, Josephine, and we had every right to kick them out. Do you want that gang of ruffians and vagabonds living so close to White Oak? We warned them and gave them a chance to leave the area peacefully, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“Two men died!”
“That wasn’t our fault! The slaves went crazy out there and attacked us first! We were only acting in self-defense. We were outnumbered, and they had guns—”
“That’s ridiculous. Where would they get guns?”
“The Yankees have been arming them—”
“Never!”
“I know you don’t want to believe the truth about your little Yankee friend, but that’s what has really been going on inside that bureau of his. I’m doing my best to protect you. That’s all any of us are trying to do.”
“You set the school on fire. Both times!”
“Only to scare all the vagrants away. They were hanging around because of the school and causing trouble. After they attacked us in the woods, we had to do something to stop them from getting their hands on more guns.”
“I don’t believe you. Willy wouldn’t hurt a fly. How did he and Otis get beaten up so badly? And all the others?”
“It was chaos. You weren’t there that night. These slaves are dangerous. It’s bad enough we lost the war, but the way things are going, we’re going to have another war with the Negroes, backed by the Yankees. We needed to scare all the vagrants off, show our strength.”
Eugenia pressed her fist against her breastbone, pushing against the pain. Her world was falling apart for a second time. Though she had wanted to reclaim all she had lost, David had been right—the past was filled with hatred and violence. Returning to the past meant sticking her head in the sand, pretending everything was fine, letting Daniel take care of her. And he had made a huge mess of things.
“Who else knows about Josephine and that man?” Eugenia asked.
“No one,” Daniel said. “Only our family.”
Eugenia felt only mildly relieved. “What’s going to happen now that you’ve burned down the Freedmen’s Bureau?”
“I don’t know.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair again. “The Yankee knows who did it, thanks to Josephine. Why would you betray your family that way?” he asked, turning on her again. “How could you?”
“Because you were wrong, Daniel. I couldn’t stand by and let you murder an innocent man. The Yankees would send all of you to the gallows.”
“He isn’t innocent. He’s taking everyone’s land and handing it over to the slaves. I’m sorry, Mother, but you don’t know these Negroes the way I do. You gave them a foothold here at White Oak when you rented them a piece of our land, and you’ll soon see it won’t be enough for them. They’ll want more land, and then our livestock, and eventually our home. The Yankees keep telling them they deserve everything. That’s what they’re teaching them in that school, insisting that Negroes are just the same as white people. That’s why we had to close it. You know all too well what can happen once slaves learn to read and write, Mother. I know you do.”
She couldn’t reply. Daniel was only repeating what she and Philip had taught him. How could she ever convince him that they’d been wrong?
Daniel stood and paced in front of her again. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of this. I didn’t want you to know about the terrible things that have been going on. You were so happy the night of your dance, and I knew this news would upset you—as it clearly has. From now on, when I decide not to tell you everything, you have to trust me.”
“Never!” Josephine said. “I’ll never trust you again!”
“Do you think any of us will ever trust you?” he shouted. “You’re a traitor!” They glared at each other for a long moment, then Daniel turned back to Eugenia. “We had trouble with the slaves all the time when Father was alive, but he shielded you from it. That’s all I’ve been trying to do. Please don’t worry about it anymore, Mother. Everything is going to simmer down in a few days and this whole mess is going to go away, I promise.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” Eugenia said. “What’s going to happen when the Yankees come back? They’ll want to punish whoever burned down their office.”
“Nothing will happen. They won’t be able to prosecute us because we’re all going to stick together, the entire town. The fire was an accident—both times. Josephine won’t dare to go against the entire community and betray us again.”
“The Negroes know the truth, too,” she mumbled.
“That’s why we have to make sure they’re afraid to open their mouths. I know it sounds cruel, but we have to.”
“But when is all of this violence going to stop?” Eugenia asked. “It must come to an end, Daniel. Don’t you see?”
“I know, I know! I’m trying to end it, I really am! Last night was supposed to be the last time. We could have ended the night patrols and everything else after the bureau was gone. But Josephine ruined everything.”
“You can’t end the cycle of violence with more violence,” Eugenia said. “There must be a better way.”
“Well, I wish I knew what it was, believe me.”
Eugenia did believe him. She could see lines of weariness and desperation on his worried face. Her once-carefree son had yielded to bitterness, and now he didn’t know how to stop.
“I know Father would hate this,” he said, “and I’ve tried and tried to think of a better plan, but the Yankees want revenge—”
“Not all of them,” Josephine said. “Mr. Chandler wanted to help us.”
“You’re a fool if you trust him,” Daniel said. “And if Mother wants proof that you were carrying on with him, I can show her his letters.”
Eugenia believed him. She didn’t need to see them. But Daniel’s violence was just as horrifying to her as Jo’s betrayal. “Daniel, I want you and Mary to leave us, please,” she said. “I want to talk to Josephine alone.”
“Shall we send for Dr. Hunter?” Mary asked. “You still don’t look well.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine now. Please leave us and close the door.” Once they were alone, Eugenia didn’t know where to begin. She looked at her daughter, whose tears had been falling all this time, and she looked so pale and distraught that Eugenia pitied her, even if she had brought this misery on herself. “Tell me the truth,” Eugenia said quietly. “Was Daniel really planning to kill that man?”
“Yes. I overheard them talking late last night. They were going to make it look like an accident.”
Eugenia closed her eyes. How could her son do such a thing? She should be grateful
to Josephine for preventing a murder, but at what cost? Betraying her own family to the enemy? She opened her eyes again and met Josephine’s gaze. “Has that Yankee compromised your virtue?”
“No! Of course not! When Mary saw us in the woods, we were just talking. We’re friends. He’s an honorable man—”
“He isn’t honorable or he wouldn’t have met with you all alone. He wouldn’t have exchanged letters with you behind my back and without your family’s permission. How did he send those letters to you, by the way?”
Josephine stared down at her lap. “The children brought them to me after school.”
“The slave children? After everything I’ve taught you about remembering your place? You just threw all of that out the window? Isn’t it bad enough you act like a slave half the time, doing their work for them?”
“Daniel is wrong about the slaves. They’re not violent people, and they aren’t going to hurt us. They just want to live in peace, the same as us.”
Eugenia exhaled. She knew she had lost Josephine. She didn’t know how or when, but her daughter was lost to her, and she didn’t know how to get her back. “Are you in love with this Yankee? Look me in the eye, Josephine, and tell me the truth.”
Josephine looked up, brushing away a tear. “Yes. And he loves me, too.”
“Heaven help us . . .”
“You surely know how I feel, Mother. No one can help falling in love! But suppose you hadn’t been able to marry Daddy or if you had been forced to marry someone else? What would you have done?”
“That isn’t the question we’re faced with, is it? It’s no longer fair for me to arrange a marriage with any of your suitors under these circumstances. You’ll have to reconcile yourself to spending the rest of your life alone.”
Josephine didn’t reply. Eugenia remembered the dreams she’d had for her family and for her own life before the war. All of those dreams had been destroyed, yet she had summoned the courage and the strength to start all over again. She had dared to dream of a happy future, a changed future, for herself and her children. Now even her new dreams were turning to ashes.