Sarah's Roses, Book II: Roses of White

Chapter XII

Chapter XII

 Uncle Andrew was sitting in his large chair by the parlor window, staring at the barren landscape. It was the middle of February, 1863. The day was bleak and windy. I sat at the piano, playing Bach to try and cheer up the mood. Uncle had never fully recovered; he remained slow and stiff and could only walk with support. His mind hadn’t suffered any, if only his eyes wouldn’t be so dim and sad, but then, who could blame him? Ever since the Battle at Hartsville we had heard nothing from Jeff. He hadn’t appeared in he lists of the dead or the wounded, but no word came from him and all my letters to him remained unanswered. I was worried and I knew uncle was too, though he never let it show. The Emancipation Act had been passed on the first of January, freeing all the slaves. I think Uncle was relieved. There was no money coming in with the cotton fields burning. Even with spring right around the corner, we had no money to by the cotton seeds. Uncle Andrew could no longer support the nearly one hundred slaves that had been in his possession. Many had run away, the rest continued to live on Uncle Andrew’s land, and we let them be. Most of the household slaves were gone, the only ones who remained with us were Elsie, George, Lulu and Kristoffs. Honestly, I was glad, the less people in the house, the less mouths I had to try and feed. With the Union blockade, food was terribly hard to find, even if you were lucky enough to have the money to buy it. Uncle Andrew had closed down most of the house and we only occupied a few rooms in the first floor. The horses that George had so magically saved were long dead; we had shot them down for food. Thankfully my goal had been achieved, we had just enough to keep us till the planting season came around, then we would plant a garden. Going to the stores was useless, if we wanted food, we would have to grow it all ourselves.

 Of course I knew that most of what I grew would probably end up in the stomach of Yankee soldiers. We had had several terrible visits from them, and they just about stripped the house of whatever it was I hadn’t hid. But they weren’t my main fear. Bandits and vagabonds now hounded these parts. Dressed as Union soldiers, they would plunder and steal all they wanted. George and Arthur had set up a watch and would keep vigilance, Elsie and Lulu would also help out. I wanted to too, but Elsie forbid it. Said my job was inside, taking care of my uncle and Evy and keeping track of the household. So that was why I found myself playing the piano to Uncle Andrew.

 I finished the tune I was playing and looked up from the notes. Uncle Andrew was looking straight at me and I smiled when my eyes met his.

“You look pale, Sarah,” his voice was distant, almost as though he were in another world.

“I’m alright,” I smiled. “Is something the matter?” He was still gazing at me in a rather strange way.

“I was just wondering,” he said, “everyone always compared you to your mother, but while you do look a lot like her, it is not like you are her spitting image. So I was sitting here and trying to figure out just how much of your father you have in you.”

I stiffened; no one had mentioned my father for several years now. It was a painful topic for me and one Uncle Andrew had always made a point of avoiding, so why was he bringing it up now?

“Why would you do something like that?” My voice had become strained.

He shrugged. “I figured seeing as we resolved the mystery of Harriet and you mother,” He chuckled at this, no doubt thinking about how I had badgered everyone for so long to reveal the whole secret to me, "maybe we could turn to a new one. The true mystery is, was, and always will be just who exactly your father is, or was.”

I gave my head a careless shake. “I don’t want to know anything about my father. Mother kept him a secret and I  think of the reason for that was so she could keep me from being hurt by a man who had hurt her beyond repair. She wanted to protect me from him, and she must have had pretty good reason to do it.”