It was something she wanted to know and felt that it could happen none too soon. It was only a matter of time before Master Anderson or Theo got it into their heads again, to sell more children. Mary’s children would be safe, but Liza knew her grandsons would not and the thought of those sweet boys being sold was more than Liza could abide. She prayed long and hard throughout the night, asking the good Lord to spare her grandchildren and any more children of that horrendous act. Would God listen?
Mary was sitting on the veranda with Victoria, who was holding Ida. Victoria was cooing over the baby when they heard hoof beats coming down the road. Both women looked up as they saw a man in a patrol uniform come to a halt in front of the porch. Tipping his had to Victoria and ignoring Mary completely, he asked if the master of the house was home. Alarm shot through Mary; she could sense something was terribly wrong.
Victoria handed Ida over to her mother and followed the man into the house. Mary was afraid to follow, so she remained out on the porch. Ida was only a month old, yet she was as active and curious as any baby. Mary held Ida to her, she listened to the raised voices from within.
“Mr. Anderson, I was sent to tell you that the war has started! Fort Sumter was attached on the twelfth of April, and now Jefferson Davis is talking about taking office, up in Richmond. The South has seceded from the Union North.” The rider expostulated, his face ruddy with excitement.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Victoria said and sat down hard on the brocade divan, a trembling hand going to her heart. Her face paled alarmingly and John took her hand, asking the patrolman, “What does this mean? What will happen here?”
“Hell, beg pardon, mam. Mr. Anderson, keep doing what you want, them niggers is stayin’ slaves. Ain’t no farmer gonna give them up. We’ll wup them Yanks and show’em they shouldn’t have mess with things that ain’t none of their business.” The rider crowed.
John walked the man to the door, wanting him out of his home, he knew this war business was upsetting his wife.
“Mary, go see to your mistress, she’s upset.” He called as he walked the rider down to his horse. His mind was racing. What did this mean for him and his family? He would need to speak to his sons. He’d have to send word.
Mary hurried into the house, stunned at the incredible news. What was all this going to mean to them? Would there be fighting here on the farm? A thrill of fear shot through Mary, and she clutched Ida closer to her breast. She found the mistress staring into space on the settee. Placing a hand under Victoria’s arm, she helped the older woman to her feet. The went up the stairs and Mary helped Victoria to her bedchamber, turning down the counterpane. She set Ida in a small cradle in the corner of the room. The old cradle had been Megan’s so many years before. Because they spent so much time in the room, Victoria had insisted they use the cradle.
Mary poured cool water from the pitcher into the floral basin. Wringing the cloth out, she placed it on Victoria’s eyes and forehead. Mary murmured quietly to Victoria, holding Victoria’s frail withered hand. For the first time, Mary noticed the light brown spots on the older woman’s hands. Her heart twisted, it hit her, she realized her mistress was getting old, not getting old, but was old. She looked at the weathered face, pale with fine spidery wrinkles. Her neck sagging with thick blue veins sloping down beneath the thin skin to her collarbones. For the first time, Mary saw her mistress as elderly.
The faded blonde hair had turned to silver and gray. She didn’t know how old her mistress was. Mary tried to remember her mistress an hour ago, had she been this old? She couldn’t remember, now looking at the old woman, she seemed to have always been that way. Mary shook her head; it had been the same with her own mother. One moment she was her mother, the next moment, she was just old, in the blink of an eye.
Ida started fussing and Mary quickly gathered her daughter up. Unlacing her bodice, she put Ida to her breast. A gentle loving smile crossed Mary’s face as she looked down at her daughter’s tiny expression. Ida had taken after Henry, her dark skin contrasted greatly with her mother’s own light skin. She was long and Mary knew that Ida would be a tall woman one day, perhaps taller than herself. She leaned down to kiss the small dark crown, and inhaled her sweet baby scent. Her fingertip traced the soft curve of the baby’s cheek.
Mary hummed softly to her baby, a lullaby her mother had hummed to her. She rocked back and forth, patting the baby’s bottom as she did. Switching breasts, Ida latched
