Wild, Beautiful, and Free(79)

I only went one time. It seemed his focus was more on the men, which I didn’t mind. I wanted to hear how he talked about God. When he started, it didn’t seem like he’d begun. He spoke like he was just talking. I can’t say exactly what he said, but it was like this: When he was just talking, it was like walking next to a creek—a bit of water trickling by your feet, the sound comforting and keeping you company. Then Silas kept going, and his tone changed. The creek became a river, and it was exciting because it was bigger and full of life. The river was running large and fast, almost to overflowing. You stayed with it because Silas had ahold of you, and the river felt like it was sweeping you away. Then the river broadened, the movement slowed, and you saw that it was opening into an ocean. The scene was awe inspiring in its depth and breadth. And suddenly it was like Silas was standing next to you, taking in the sheer abundance.

Silas’s talks had a deep effect, and I saw it and understood it. But I also felt sadness after hearing him. I don’t know if others experienced this. Here’s how it was for me: I could tell his fervor grew from the pain of the fighting. It came from a place without light. He was serious and thoughtful—not bad things by themselves. But Silas used to shine and laugh in a way that made me feel he was one of God’s fine creations. Just the way he was spoke to me about faith. It made me think about the brief time when I’d first learned Mr. Colchester loved me. As much as I ached to remember it, I know the joy brought a feeling of God to me. Silas was a good speaker. I missed the way he had been, though. I didn’t understand why being devoted to God meant he had to shed the God-given good parts of himself.

The fighting continued as the Union regiments gradually made their way south. One day in early December I heard from my students that the army divisions in the whole general area would split. One set of regiments would go east toward Atlanta. The other would continue south and west to try to capture the port at Vicksburg on the Mississippi. The field hospital would be divided up too. I had no doubt which way I’d go. If the Vicksburg-bound regiments continued their progress, we would reach Louisiana and perhaps the parishes near Catalpa Valley. My fear of approaching home lessened. Madame couldn’t do anything to me if I arrived protected by the Union soldiers I had taught and tended for over a year. I had great hope that emancipation would make her entirely powerless. Silas, bent on his Bible and working out his own salvation, had his own thoughts about freedom and where it should take me.

One late afternoon we stood at a campfire, warming ourselves and talking about the movement of the regiments.

“Proclamation go through, gotta think about where you want to be,” said Silas. He was kicking at the dirt, his head down.

I pulled my cloak closer around me. “I thought you wanted to go west?”

“Not now. Need to be around the living. Preach the Lord’s word. You need to come with me. Being the way that you are, you need to be with someone who understands you.”

“Because I have mixed blood?”

“No. Because of how you don’t fit with the way people think. And you don’t care. Always by yourself. That ain’t no way to be in the world.”

He wasn’t right about that. I had companions in my sister nurses and spent time enough with Carrie, Martha, and, on occasion, Mother B. But I did enjoy solitude and, when I had the chance for it, would often choose it instead of being with them.

“Even if I’m fine with it?”

“Maybe I want better for you than you want for yourself.”

“Maybe I’m not thinking about myself. If I can get back to Catalpa Valley, I can make sure our people can make a living after they get their freedom.” I was thinking again of Mr. Colchester and had wondered often how many of the boots and shoes on the feet of the soldiers around me had come from the factory in Lower Knoll. He had been right about how it wasn’t enough to free slaves. I found myself puzzling over how Catalpa Valley could become like Lower Knoll. Would Calista be in favor of such an endeavor? I could guide her—tell her what I’d seen and what might be possible.

“And I can help my sister,” I told Silas.

“You mean be her maid.”

“We’re not like that.” I believed this deeply. Calista would not have sent Dorinda on such a treacherous errand to bring me Papa’s locket and with it her love if she did not look on me as her equal and her sister. I would have been less confident without these assurances. We’d still been girls when Madame had ripped me from our home. While I knew and loved Calista the girl very well, I didn’t know the woman. Nor did she really know me. And yet we seemed to still feel the tug of our filial ties. We had to believe those ties would pull us together again.

“And what makes you think your Catalpa Valley will still be there? Our soldiers been burning fields and big houses for miles to make sure the rebels don’t have no food.”

A bitter taste crept up my throat and into my mouth. I hadn’t thought of that. Catalpa Valley destroyed?

“It may not be,” I said quietly. “But I’ll find out for myself.”

“Are you still in love with that white man?”

“He’s not white.”

“He may as well be from what you told me.”

“He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Then there’s no reason for you to go back there. You meant to be talking about the Bible, just like me. People would listen because of the way you sound, like you know God for sure,” he said.