Wild, Beautiful, and Free(98)

Christian and I built a house on Petite Bébinn, a lovely structure with two floors and a wide porch from which, each evening, we could watch the setting sun. Though we visited Fortitude Mansion often, and the property remained in Christian’s possession, Catalpa Valley was our home. Christian became a leader of LeBlanc, the parish he had protected so well. He eventually reconnected with the man who had been influential to him, P. B. S. Pinchback, and he encouraged Christian’s participation in the revival of Louisiana during Reconstruction. Mr. Pinchback would visit us, and he always listened carefully to my stories about teaching in Lower Knoll and for the Union soldiers. He visited the schoolrooms in the big house. Walter, who stayed on with us, told him how learning to read had changed his life. I like to think all this led Mr. Pinchback to supporting his first major cause: creating a state-supported public school system. He went on to become the governor of Louisiana, a tremendous achievement.

And yes, Walter stayed on. I’d suspected him to be in love with Calista from the moment they’d met. He probably saw in her the heroines in the books he read. They married and traveled to New York to meet his family. Fortunately he had a brother who’d also survived the war who could run the family apple orchard. They adored Calista, even more so when she was able to deliver the news of a grandchild forthcoming. I think she wanted very much to please them. It was the first time since Papa had died that she’d experienced loving parents. I am so happy for her. The Stones did indeed dote on their daughter-in-law, and they enjoyed coming to Catalpa Valley to visit.

This mention of parents, of course, leads me to think of Founder and of Missus Livingston. Christian and I wrote to each of them when we married. Missus Livingston had been happy to receive my letter from Vicksburg but hadn’t known where to send a response. She was thrilled to hear I was alive and well and we were married. Founder asked some pointed questions in her response to Christian. I think once she realized I had properly inherited my share of Papa’s estate and that Christian’s inheritance wasn’t at risk, she accepted our nuptials with a composure that satisfied Christian and me. Christian made it clear that Founder should have the run of Fortitude as its owner’s mother. She accepted this but never changed rooms, preferring her third-floor apartment. I wasn’t surprised. I knew how much she enjoyed the view from her balcony.

Lower Knoll, as Christian had hoped, thrived during and after the war. The villagers voted to officially incorporate the town in 1867. Christian and I have visited many times since. Jelly, I’m proud to say, continued her education and earned a college degree from Oberlin. She became the superintendent of Lower Knoll School, which grew to have several teachers and, eventually, a large building with many rooms. I suspect the next time I hear from her, it will be to report she is marrying.

I never forgot Silas and thought often of what had happened to him. This mystery was solved when I received a letter that had taken such a circuitous route that it hadn’t reached me for six months. The letter was from Carrie, my nurse mate. She had written to me through Mother B., but since Mother B. had long moved on from Mississippi, it took a while for the letter to find her in Indiana. Mother B. had to do her own research to discover where in Louisiana I could be. Once she found the location of Catalpa Valley, she forwarded the letter, which included a note of her own thanking me for my services and hoping I was well. I responded quickly. Mother B. would have been so worried after reading the letter I’d left the morning I’d departed Vicksburg.

Carrie’s letter told me that she and Silas had reached Atlanta and they had married. She only succeeded partially in restoring his bright, brave way of seeing the world. They started a Baptist church, but Silas died of a heart attack not long after. She has dedicated herself to keeping it going. I’ve offered to assist her in any way I can.

Christian noticed the tears I shed as I read the letter. I told him all about Silas, how we’d escaped, how we’d separated, and how we’d found each other again during the war.

“Why didn’t he ask to marry you?”

I put the letter down and leaned back in my chair. “He did, Christian. In fact, he was persistent about it. He wanted me to go to Atlanta with him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I took his hand and kissed it. “I didn’t love him,” I said. “Nor did he love me. He saw me as a kind of partner, like I was always supposed to do this work with him.” I looked at Christian. “And I loved you. I knew what it was to love. Even if I never found you, I wouldn’t be with anyone else again unless I felt such love.”

I kissed him.

We have now been married ten years. I live in the glow of our love and the love of our children, Jeremiah and Fanny. We are wonderfully close. Christian and I are as we have been, two parts of a whole. We talk constantly, even when he is away, because in my mind, always, I am thinking about what I will tell him when he returns, and I cannot wait to hear what has happened to him in my absence. All my trust is given to him; all his trust is devoted to me. He is my love as I am his.

I think about how this is and isn’t the life Papa wanted for me. He wanted me to be protected, to have a home and not want for anything. That I am, and that I have. But I think he envisioned me as alone and obscure, a beloved china doll kept well and safe in a cabinet. Instead I am vibrantly full of family, life, and love. And I am myself, with nothing hidden or pretended. Christian and I don’t fear what was, and we don’t concern ourselves with a future that is impossible to see. We live, no matter what is happening, in a shining, perfect now. It is a gift handed to me divinely. I’m grateful to live it with the heart that Fanny showed me I have by nature—one bred of the love of my papa and tempered by trial and forgiveness.