Spring Will Come (50 page)

             
“Why should he?” Carrie blurted.  “He still has thousands of men left to be slaughtered,” she said bitterly.  

             
Thomas looked at her compassionately but didn’t respond.  He took another long drink of coffee.  “To his way of thinking, it was McClellan’s army that just brushed the edge of disaster - not his.”

             
Carrie took a spoonful of soup, her anger dissipating.  Let her father talk.  It did him good, and she didn’t really care. 

             
“He actually thought he might continue to press the offensive, but he just wired Davis that the army is too weak.  Thousands are deserting, heading for their homes,” Thomas said in disgust.

             
More power to them
, Carrie thought.  Who in their right mind would want to continue to fight when all around them their friends were being killed and mutilated?  Suddenly it was all too much again.  The long day had camouflaged her pain, but it had done nothing to numb it.  Pushing aside her plate, she shoved her chair back and stood.  “I’m very tired.  I’m going to bed.”

             
“Carrie - wait,” Thomas said contritely.  “I’m sorry.  I know you couldn’t care less about General Lee and his army.  I’m just talking - avoiding what I really need to say.”

             
Carrie settled back into her chair and looked at her father expectantly.  The silence stretched out as her father fidgeted with his spoon. 

             
Thomas’ eyes finally settled on her, and he began. “About what happened this morning…I needed to tell you - about my father.  My father - well - we weren’t alike.  He was...”  Thomas paused.  “He felt differently about our slaves.  He thought they were there just for his pleasure.”

             
Carrie listened closely, knowing her father was sorting through his thoughts as he talked.

             
“I still think it’s our ordained duty to have slaves, but I think it is our responsibility to care for them, not just use them selfishly.”

             
Carrie remained silent but wondered what it would take for her father to see that the very act of slavery was a selfish use of humanity. 

             
“Your grandfather was a proud man.  Carving Cromwell Plantation out of the wilderness was a very difficult thing.  It was a great accomplishment.”  Thomas stared off into space.  “It was almost as if it used all the greatness he had in him.  At the end he was a bitter, tired old man.  I believe he felt as if all his work had been for nothing.”

             
“How could he feel that way?” Carrie protested.  “Cromwell Plantation is a very successful, beautiful plantation.”

             
“Yes,” Thomas agreed.  “But,” he continued thoughtfully, “I believe my father lost himself in the creation of Cromwell Plantation.  He poured all of himself into creating something.  There was nothing left for him.”

             
“You mean he was so busy doing things, he lost contact with his own heart and soul.”

             
Thomas gazed at her, startled.  “That’s exactly what I mean.  How did you...?”

             
“It was something Robert told me the night he asked me to marry him,” Carrie said quietly. 

             
Silence fell on the room for a few minutes as both of them lost themselves in their thoughts.

             
“I felt horrible about what my father did to Sarah,” Thomas continued.  “I didn’t know what to do.”  He paused.  “I know now I did the wrong thing.  It is my responsibility to care for my slaves.  Sending John away - giving away Rose’s brother - they were selfish acts.  I’m so sorry.”

             
Carrie reached out for his hand.  “I know.”  She wanted her father to see so much more.  She wanted him to understand slavery was an awful thing.  She wanted him to recognize the horrible wrong it had inflicted on millions of people.  But she knew she couldn’t force it on him.  She had reached her own conclusions after months of struggle and soul-searching.  She simply had to trust God to show him the truth.  “I love you,” she said tenderly.

Carrie was sitting next to the window
and staring out into the warm night when Janie entered the room.  She had heard voices downstairs.  Her father would have told her about Robert.  Janie closed the door behind her softly then walked over and laid her hand on Carrie’s shoulder without saying a word.

             
Carrie was grateful she didn’t say anything.  Carrie felt so lost, so alone.  This was the very thing she had feared, and now it seemed even more horrible than her nightmares.  Was God playing a cruel trick?  Robert held all her heart.  She longed to share the rest of her life with him.  Where was he?  Would she ever see him again?  Was he suffering?  The not knowing once again rose up and tried to swallow her. 

             
“Carrie?” 

             
Carrie registered Janie’s voice.  Only then did she become aware she was trembling all over.  She stared up at Janie wordlessly. 

             
Janie knelt and wrapped her warm arms around Carrie’s shaking shoulders.    “Let it out,” she whispered.  “Let it out.”

             
Great sobs tore through Carrie’s body.  “Robert!” she cried, “Robert...”

Carrie was up before the sun the next morning.  Janie was still asleep when she slipped out of the room.  The two friends had talked until late in
to the night. Once Carrie had released her emotions she had been able to communicate what she was feeling.  The act of talking had helped deplete the suffocating helplessness.

             
Carrie strode purposefully up the hill toward the hospital.  Janie was right.  There was just as much reason to believe Robert was alive as there was to believe he was dead.  Hope was all she had to hang on to.  She was going to hang on.  In the meantime, she was going to give all she had to the people who needed her - who counted on her. 

             
Hobbs was awake when she approached his bed.  Most of the other men were still asleep. 

             
“So it
was
you yesterday.  I thought maybe I’d imagined it.”  Hobbs’ voice was weak, little more than a whisper.

             
Carrie reached for his hand.  “It was me,” she agreed, smiling.  “How are you feeling?”  She reached out and touched his forehead.  It was still burning hot.

             
“Not so good,” he admitted.  He hesitated for a long moment.  “Do I...?  Were you...?”

             
“Able to save your leg?  It’s there for now,” Carrie replied.  “We did the best we could.  Your right leg is now several inches shorter than your left, but we saved it - at least if infection doesn’t destroy it.”  She was determined to be honest with him. 

             
“Thank you,” he whispered.  “Miss Carrie?” His eyes held hers as if he had something important to say.

             
Carrie’s heart started pounding.  Suddenly she was afraid to hear what he was going to say.  “You need to get some rest.  We can talk later.”

             
Hobbs shook his head.  “I promised the lieutenant,” he said, his voice stronger now, his eyes desperate.  “If I don’t make it...”

             
Carrie dropped down into a chair beside his bed.  “What happened?”

             
“The lieutenant got shot pretty early in the day.  We couldn’t get him off the field.  There were too many bullets flying.”  His voice was filled with pain.

             
Carrie reached out and took his hand but didn’t say anything. 

             
“Me and some of the men - we put a barrier of logs around him.  We figured it would at least keep him from getting shot up any more.”  He stopped.  “We didn’t know what else to do.  I went back with one of the medics that night to get him, but...”

             
“But what?”  Carrie asked desperately.  What had happened to Robert?

             
“He was gone, Miss Carrie.”

             
“Gone?”  Carrie echoed blankly.  “Gone where?”

             
“I don’t know.  I looked for him everywhere.  That’s how I got hurt - trying to find him.”  Then he told her about being trapped in the town.

             
Carrie could tell Hobbs was fading quickly.  But his story had just confused her more.  “But what could have happened to him?  Is it possible you missed him in one of the hospital camps?”

             
“It’s possible,” he said slowly, his expression saying he didn’t believe it. 

             
Carrie knew how much Hobbs loved Robert.  She knew how hard he would have looked. 

             
Hobbs continued on, his exhaustion causing him to falter.  “I don’t reckon our lieutenant is a prisoner.  I don’t think the Union medics would have taken him before we could get to him.”

             
Carrie tried to make sense out of the information.

             
“Some of the fellas said maybe he deserted - got out of there while he could.”

             
“Not Robert!  He would never desert!”  Carrie was sure of that.  She might have wanted him to, but she knew he never would have.

             
“That’s what I told them,” Hobbs agreed.  His eyes pooled with tears.  “I reckon our lieutenant is dead, Miss Carrie.”

             
Carrie stared at him for a minute then shook her head decisively.  “I don’t believe it.”  When Hobbs stared back she knew what he was thinking – he was pitying her.  She shook her head again.  “I don’t know where Robert is, but I refuse to believe he’s dead.  Carrie knew her belief made absolutely no sense. 

             
But she believed it; she had to.