Somehow, Zechariah, Sarah, and Carrie all survived.  There were a few workers who stuck around.  Zechariah wasn’t able to pay them, but he agreed that if they stayed to help, they would get a share as they started to make a profit later.  Since he had taken such good care of them before, and since they didn’t know where else to go, they agreed. 

I saw a lot less of them in the bedroom, though.  Sarah made her own bed.  She got herself ready in the morning.  She tended to Carrie alone.  Zechariah was always around, but he was never exactly there, either.

I watched Carrie grow up.  Zechariah’s distance affected her.  She’d come bounding into the bedroom to find him sitting in a chair, staring absently out the window.  She’d ask if he liked her dress or if he wanted to dance, and he’d just grunt and wave his hand dismissively.  Carrie would always walk out with a crestfallen face.  It made me wish that I could move my wooden legs and dance with her, but I knew even that would never replace a father’s love. Who would Carrie have to dance with?

Her mother would tell her stories about how things were supposed to be.

I never knew what those stories were supposed to accomplish.  The ‘way things were supposed to be’ were no longer a possibility.  It was filling the girl’s head with false hopes and dreams.  Sure, I wanted Carrie to hope for a better future, but it would take an uphill battle to get there.  The dances, the pretty dresses, the horses to ride leisurely were a distant dream.

Sarah made it sound like Carrie was owed these things.

When Carrie was a young lady, I wasn’t surprised when I found out that she was falling for an older man.

“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about in a husband,” she confided to Sarah one night, as they sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed.

“But does he love you?”

“He says he does.  He says I’m beautiful and that he wants his babies to look just like me.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a planation owner, just like us.  Except it was a smaller plantation, so the Yanks somehow missed it and didn’t cover it salt.  So he’s doing well for himself.  I could finally afford all those pretty dresses for you and me!”

Sarah smiled.  “You deserve so much goodness.  But you shouldn’t marry for money.”

“Mama,” Carrie smiled back, her smile patient but strained, “it’s not like men are fighting for my hand in marriage.  I don’t hate him, so I’m sure I can learn to love him.  He has money.  He can take care of us.”

Sarah was quiet for a while.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted for me, Mama,” Carrie said.  “You wanted me to have a fairy tale ending, with love and money and everything.  This is the next best thing.”

“If you are sure this is what you want, Carrie, then you have my blessing.  I have heard of his family and it is a strong line.  You would do well to marry into it.”

Carrie smiled, a full smile this time.  “Thank you, Mama.”

“There is just one thing,” Sarah said.  Carrie’s smile deflated.

Sarah rose and walked over to me.  She ran her hand gently over my top. 

“Your grandfather Jed built this dresser for your grandmother.  He took so much care in crafting it.  He gave it to your father when we were wed, and now I want to give it to you as a wedding present.  It was such a comfort for me to have such an elegant piece when we had nothing.  I hope it’s a reminder to you of your family’s love and legacy.”

“Oh, Mama!” Carrie said with a gasp, “You want me to take your dresser?  Can you afford another one?”

“If there is anything that life has taught me, it’s that we can always make do with less than what we think.  I want you to have something special.  Something of your family’s.  This is the best physical object I can give you.”

Sarah then walked over to her daughter and embraced her.  “But know that the love I give you is even stronger than this dresser.”

Carrie clung to her mother.  “Yes, Mama.  I know.”

For a few months, Zechariah and Sarah seemed to get along better.  They celebrated Christmas together in the big house.  I got to watch them sneak into the room and wrap presents for each other beforehand.  They seemed giddy.

Zechariah seemed to be taking to the new job well.  Sarah loved the house and having something called “slaves.”  The closest I could figure, they were talking about the people with darker skin, but something didn’t seem to connect in my alloy about the tone in Sarah’s voice and the way she talked about people.

For their part, the people with dark skin were a fascinating bunch.  They spoke in a thick accent, and would always come into Zechariah and Sarah’s room when they weren’t in there.  This was a new concept to me, and at first, I watched them carefully to make sure they didn’t steal anything – not that I could have stopped them if they had tried – but they never did.  Instead, they would make the bed, changing the sheets periodically, gather dirty clothes, and clean the room.  If needed, they would stoke the fire and clean out the ashes.

They always talked about “how nice the new mastah” was.  I had no idea what they were talking about.

Stress lines around Zechariah’s face seemed to deepen.  I longed to ask him what was wrong, and wished desperately that Sarah would.  It took her months before she noticed, and she only noticed when she was talking about baby names and she realized he wasn’t listening.

“Zechariah!  Are you paying any attention?”

“What?  I’m sorry Sarah.  What were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your child.  I would think that would be of some importance to you.”

“Of course it is,” he snapped, “I just have a lot else on my mind.  But what is so important you’re going to come onto me about it?”

“What should we name the baby if it’s a girl?”

“Names?”  Zechariah shot up in bed, the covers flying off his shoulders to land in his lap.  “You’re going to yell at me about baby names when that time is a few months off yet?  Don’t you know that there’s a war about to start?  A war that could take away our entire way of living in this new life?  We could be right back where we started with nothing, and you are worried about a name.”

Sarah scoffed.  “There won’t be a war.  People are blowing things out of proportion.” 

Zechariah paused.  His voice softened.  “South Caroline succeeded from the country just before Christmas.  Other states plan to follow.”

Sarah became silent, her eyes wide.  “Why are they leaving us?”

“President Lincoln wants to abolish slavery.  Many southern states rely on slavery to grow their crops – just like we do.  Though I don’t think paying the people a wage would completely destroy us like many plantation owners fear.  Of course, you and I are used to living on a lot less than they are, too.  We could take a dip in profit okay.”

“A dip in profit?  I don’t want to make less money.”

 “It’s not that we’d be making less, we would just be paying the slaves to work for us.  If President Lincoln has his way, then we would no longer be able to own slaves.”

“Then who would work for us?”

“The same people could.  We would just pay them like an employee instead of owning them.”

“But that would cost a lot of money.”  Sarah pouted.  “Why does President Lincoln want to take our way of life away from us?”

Zechariah’s eyes narrowed.  “Sarah, we would not lose our new way of life.  And if we did, we would still be better off than we were before, right?”

“But think of the baby!  Think of the life we can give him or her now.  Do you want to lose that?”

Zechariah’s body stiffened.  “What do you think I’m thinking about?” he demanded.  “It’s all I ever think about is how to take care of you and the baby.  It’s how to keep this plantation going as my family trusts me to – Aunt Carrie has completely stepped away and doesn’t care to know what’s going on anymore on the business end.  I have so much to think about, and all you care about it the name of a baby that’s several months from coming.  Excuse me for being lost in my thoughts.”

Sarah seemed to shrink as he spoke.  They were both quiet for a while after he stopped.  He lay back down.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.  “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“I understand,” she said, “and I forgive you.”

They hugged under the covers and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

War did come.  Virginia succeeded from the United States while Sarah was very large with child.

Zechariah went off to fight in the Confederate army to protect his home and family.  From the discussions – arguments, really – he and Sarah had, it was clear that he wouldn’t mind paying his slaves, but he had to do what he could to protect his family from the Union army.  As much as he wanted to be home for the baby’s birth, he wanted to help get the war over with quickly so things could return to normal.

The war was not over quickly.

Things did not go back to normal.

Sarah had her baby a few weeks after Zechariah left.  A girl.  Sarah named her Carrie, after Zechariah’s aunt who had provided such a nice home for them.

Confederate soldiers invaded the plantation.  I saw them come.  I saw them eye Sarah lustfully, as she cowered with Carrie in her arms in the corner of the room.

“Leave her.  She has a baby.”

I would have sacrificed my glass to bust over their heads at their pitiful behavior.  How could humans do such things to each other?

My mortification only increased when I heard that they stole all the food from the house, shoes, warm clothes and blankets, and then – the worst of all – plowed salt into the fields.  When Zechariah returned, he would not be able to grow crops for many years and much hard work.

If he returned.

In the summer of 1862, Sarah received a letter from a commanding officer, saying that Zechariah had been severely injured in one of General Stonewall Jackson’s campaigns.  He had been part of a small group that engaged Union forces in Kernstown, Virginia.  The Confederate army had been misinformed that the Union army there was half that size that it actually was.  Zechariah had to pay the price.  The Confederate Army retreated.  Fortunately, the Union Army had not pursued them, so after the battle, they were able to help Zechariah off the field. 

All Sarah knew was that her husband was alive, but severely injured.  He would be coming home as soon as he was well enough to travel.

Things were more difficult when Zechariah got home than when he had left.  He had been shot in his right leg, and ended up having to have his leg amputated from the knee down.  He walked with a crutch and was very bitter.

He considered himself a cripple.

His land was wasted.

Most of his slaves had run off – more would run off after President Lincoln signed something called the Emancipation Proclamation.  All I understood from what Zechariah read to Sarah was that all slaves were now considered free.  He could not work to get his fields able to sustain new growth in his state, and most of his help was gone. 

He did seem to rely on Sarah more, though.  I watched Sarah grow in strength and understanding.  She aged quickly, but she held on.  I was proud of her for the challenges she faced and strove to overcome.

Sarah wanted more children, but Zechariah was unable to provide them for her.  Although she tried to hide it, I saw the many tears she cried.

They grew thin from lack of food.

They often shivered together in front of the fireplace, trying to stay warm.

It would have been hard for things to get much worse for Zechariah’s family as they struggled through to survive the end of what was to be called the Civil War.

The fights between Zechariah and Sarah became more frequent.  Then one day, Sarah pulled Zechariah into the bedroom and set him on the side of the bed.  She knelt down in front of him, leaning gently into his legs.  She grabbed his hands with both of hers and pressed them to her lips.

Zechariah looked dumb struck, and I felt that way, too.  What was Sarah about to say?

“Zechariah, I’m pregnant.”

To his credit, he moved his mouth to try to say something, but no sound came out for a while.  Finally, he said, “Sarah, my darling!  That’s wonderful!”

“Are you truly happy?”

Zechariah slid off the bed to kneel beside his wife.  It was his turn to kiss her hands.  “Yes, Sarah.  I’m very happy.  However, I have some news to share, too, and this has made it a little more difficult.”  He paused, and Sarah’s eyes grew a little wide. 

“My mother’s brother has a plantation in Virginia.  He has taken ill and is not expected to recover.  I have been asked to move there as soon as possible to begin to learn the trade from him while he’s alive, then take over operations after he passes.  My aunt will remain the owner, but they have no children, so we will inherit everything when she passes.”

“We get to live in a big plantation house?”  Sarah’s eyes shone. 

“Yes, my love.”

“You’ve been given a good job?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy about it all?”

“Yes, I think so.  …Are you?”

“Oh yes, Zechariah.  Yes!”  She threw her arms around his neck and they sat there like that for several long minutes, though it probably did not feel long to them. 

I hoped that this would be a turning point in their relationship, and that they would be much happier going forward. 

They began the process of moving the very next day.  Sarah started packing while Zechariah began making sure they had a reliable team of horses or mules to get them all the way to Virginia.  I could never figure out which they decided on, but they argued about that for several nights, and Zechariah said time and time again that his aunt was sending them money on the stage. 

Sarah started to get tired more frequently.  She’d come in often and fall asleep on the bed, sometimes without taking her shoes off first. 

But at last, the day came!  Swarms of people were in and out of the house to help load all of Zechariah and Sarah’s things into a wagon. 

I had not been loaded yet when Sarah told Dear Elizabeth that she was pregnant.  They were in the bedroom, unmaking the bed and folding the quilts.  Dear Elizabeth dropped the bedding in her arms, her hands flew to her mouth with a little shriek.  Her eyes danced as she rushed to hug her daughter-in-law.

It was so good for me to see my Dear Elizabeth one more time.  And how joyous to see her get such wonderful news!  To watch her almost bounce with excitement.

“Please write to me as your time gets closer,” Elizabeth said.  “Please, may I come stay with you after the baby is born?  This will be my first grandchild, after all.  Oh, I am so, so happy for you!”

Sarah seemed happier than normal, for that I was glad.

“We would love to have you stay with us,” she said.  “I’m afraid I’ll need all the help I can get!”

“That’s very normal for new mothers,” Elizabeth said, with a smile.  “And for experienced mothers.  Never be too proud to ask for help.  All mothers understand.”

“Thank you.”

The two women hugged again, then resumed packing away bedding.  Now, though, there was a new, excited energy.  They talked baby names, baby care, baby, baby, baby.  I was very happy to listen to it all.  I had already experienced a few births, and the joy after the birth was an absolutely beautiful thing to witness.  It was worth having to watch the birthing process.

I was loaded into the wagon not long after Sarah shared her news.  I watched Dear Elizabeth’s face for as long as I could.

I was not loaded gently, nor was I tied down well.  The ride to Virginia was very rough and very long.  My glass rattled and drawers shook.  Wood knocked against wood.  I tried to remind myself that at least I wasn’t in Sarah’s position.  I obviously had no idea what it was like to carry a child, but I had watched Dear Elizabeth go through it, and it was not an easy or comfortable journey.  The turbulent wagon was probably quite difficult for Sarah.

We finally made it, though, and through the legs of a dining room table, I saw our new home.  It was, quite simply, a mansion.  It was three stories high and made of brick.  Tall windows lined the front and sides of the house that I could see – I assumed they went all the way around the house.  A large patio covered the front door, and four white pillars held up a second-floor balcony.  It was beautiful, and I heard Sarah exclaim that as well from the seat up front.

Zechariah drove the wagon team – I still didn’t know if it was pulled by horses or mules.  My excitement of having seen Dear Elizabeth again made me forget to look – up to the front door of the house.  Fortunately, he parked so that I could see the front door.

A man with dark skin, smartly dressed, came out to greet us.  I had never seen a man so dark before.  Was he okay?  He bowed low.  “Welcome, Masters.”

“Hello.  Is Uncle Frederick feeling well today?”  Zechariah didn’t act like anything was wrong with the man, so I assumed it was just something I had never seen before.  After all, Jedidiah had tended to get darker during the summer than during the winter.  Maybe it was similar with this man.

Zechariah jumped down from the wagon and lifted a hand to assist Sarah.

“Doin’ as well as can be, Sir.  He’s in a mighty bit o’ pain always.”

“I hate to hear that.  Is he able to see me now?  And Aunt Carrie?”

“Yes, sir.  I was instructed to bring you as soon as you was able to come in.  Please follow me.”

I watch the threesome walk up the white stairs onto the large porch, then walk through the double front door. 

Not long after, more people with dark skin came out and began unloading the wagon.  I was carried into the house and up one flight of stairs.  I was carefully positioned against one wall of a large bedroom.  Three windows let in a generous amount of light.  I could easily imagine a baby rocker next to the large bed. 

Yes, we were going to be quite happy here.

Or so I thought.