A Light to My Path (26 page)

Kitty wondered, too. She was tired of standing outside on the piazza, tired of the noise and the smoke and the fear. She wanted Massa to come back safely so she could go home to Beaufort. The thought startled her. Was Beaufort her home? She had lived there for only a few months—how had it become home to her already? Kitty knew the answer: Grady and Delia were there.

Just before dinner, a messenger finally arrived with some news. “There have been no injuries at any of our batteries on Morris and Sullivan’s Islands,” he announced. A cheer went up from the little group. “Fort Stevens was hit several times, but there was no damage and no casualties. That means Roger is fine.”

Missy’s knees went weak with relief. She fell into her mother’s arms in a swoon. Kitty ran inside to fetch the smelling salts.

By six o’clock it had begun to rain, and everyone moved indoors. It was still storming at bedtime, the wind whipping tree branches against the house and lashing rain against the windows. But the terrible bombardment never let up. Missy ordered Kitty to remain with her for the night, sleeping on the floor beside the bed again, in case she was needed. Kitty curled up with a blanket, but she didn’t sleep. At dawn, a full day after the first cannon had fired, the battle still raged.

The storm had cleared away much of the smoke, and the sky was so brilliantly blue it made Kitty’s chest ache. One of Massa Goodman’s relatives set up a telescope on the piazza, and the men took turns gazing through it, describing what they saw to the anxious ladies.

“Sumter’s on fire. There’s a lot of black smoke, and I think I see flames… . Yes, I definitely see flames.”

The ladies cheered delicately and clapped their hands.

“Looks like three or four Union ships are anchored out there beyond the bar, but they don’t seem inclined to join the battle.”

“That’s because they know we’ll blow them out of the water if they come within range.”

Massa Goodman was peering through the telescope after lunch when Kitty heard him exclaim, “Look! They’ve taken down the Stars and Stripes! They’re flying the white flag!”

“No! Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes! See for yourself!”

Kitty’s heart pounded with excitement and hope. Maybe now all this terrible worrying would end. Massa would come back, and they could all return home to Beaufort. Missy would have a baby, and maybe Grady would change his mind and give Kitty one, too.

The bombardment slowed to a halt. Then silence. The terrible shooting had finally stopped. The hush seemed eerie after a day and a half of thunderous noise. Everyone waited for the smoke to clear.

“The white flag is definitely flying,” Massa Goodman said. “And I can see a ship of truce heading toward the fort.”

It was over. As soon as Missy Claire received the news that there had been no fatalities on either side, she went to her room, lay down on her bed, and wept. Church bells pealed all over the city, and the cadets in White Point Gardens sent up a seven-gun salute, one for each state in the new Confederacy. Massa Goodman and all the other gentlemen hurried to the docks, boarding any ship they could find to sail out to the victorious batteries to celebrate.

When Kitty went outside to the kitchen for dinner, she found the mood among the slaves quiet and subdued. “What do you think all this excitement means?” she asked them.

Albert the coachman sighed. “It means we’re all gonna be slaves a while longer,” he said.

On Sunday afternoon, just as Kitty was leaving the house with Missy Claire to watch the cadets’ dress parade at White Point Gardens, a carriage pulled to a halt in front of the house. Massa Fuller stepped out, his face dirty, his nice new uniform smudged with soot. Kitty felt as relieved to see him as her mistress did. Claire ran into his arms.

“Thank God you’re safe, Roger. And thank God it’s over.”

“Yes, but I’m afraid it has only begun, Claire. There’s likely to be a full-scale war now.”

His words sent a tremor of fear through Kitty. She thought she understood now what a war was all about—bombs falling and guns shooting, the endless waiting and uncertainty and fear. The past few days had been frightening enough for all of them. She didn’t want to think about an entire future spent that way.

“But at least we won the first battle,” Massa Roger said, smiling. “God willing, we’ll win all the rest of them, too.”

“Come inside,” Missy Claire said, leading him up the front steps. “How long can you stay?”

“My artillery unit has been ordered back to Beaufort. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Kitty could have danced with joy. But Massa’s next words filled her with dread.

“Claire, I know it’s lonely for you in Beaufort, especially since I’m away so often. I’ll understand if you would like to stay here in Charleston with your family.”

Kitty held her breath, waiting for Missy to decide, hoping she wouldn’t choose to stay. Kitty would have to stay here in Charleston with her.

“I want to be with you, Roger,” Missy finally said.

Kitty closed her eyes in relief. She was going home—home to Grady and Delia. When she opened them again, she felt tears in her eyes. She quickly excused herself, so Missy wouldn’t notice, and ran upstairs to start packing for the trip.

Beaufort, South Carolina
June 1861

Kitty balanced Missy Claire’s breakfast tray in one hand so she could knock softly on her bedroom door with the other. As soon as she heard Missy mumble something, she went inside.

“I brought you some break—”

“Take it away!” Missy shouted. “I don’t even want to smell food!” She leaned over the side of the bed, holding both hands over her mouth as if she was about to be sick.

Kitty quickly retreated, closing the door behind her. She stood in the hallway for a moment, wondering what to do, then set the tray down on the hall table and slipped back into the room without it. “You needing the basin, Missy Claire?”

“No … there’s nothing in my stomach.” She lay back against the pillows again, her face pale. Kitty picked up a folding fan and waved it to cool her.

“Is that better, Missy?”

“I don’t think I can help out at the hospital today,” she said weakly. “I don’t feel very well.”

“Should I tell them ‘never mind’ about getting your carriage ready?”

Missy nodded. The two of them had been going downtown to a warehouse on the wharf every day this week, working with the other women of Beaufort to organize a small two-room hospital. It would be used, if necessary, for injured soldiers who were from outside the Beaufort area. Soldiers from town would be nursed in their own homes, of course. Kitty had enjoyed working alongside her mistress and the other slaves, and she was disappointed that they weren’t going today. But she was also very worried about Missy. She had been feeling sick and miserable for the past two days, but she’d never wanted to stay in bed before.

“I think I better go fetch Delia, Missy Claire. She would know which doctor Massa Fuller would send for if he was home.”

Missy waved her hand in dismissal as if too sick to reply, and Kitty ran downstairs to find Delia. “Missy hasn’t eaten much at all for the past few days,” she explained as the older woman slowly plodded up the steps with her. “This morning she didn’t even want to smell the food, and she’s too sick to get out of bed. Should we send for the doctor?”

Delia glanced at the breakfast tray as she paused in the upstairs hallway to catch her breath. “Well, let’s see …” She led the way into the room, leaving the door open.

“Shut the door!” Missy yelled. “That bacon smells nauseating!”

Kitty quickly pushed the door closed, then picked up the fan again to chase the smell away from Missy’s nose.

Delia stood beside the bed, looking down at her. “I can fetch the doctor for you if you want me to, Missus Fuller, but I think I know what he’s gonna say.”

“What?”

“Well, first he’s gonna ask when’s the last time you had the ‘curse of women.’”

Missy’s cheeks flushed bright pink. Kitty fanned harder.

“Then he’s gonna ask if you’re feeling a little tender up on top when Kitty pulls the corset laces tight.”

Missy nodded slightly.

“Well, I ain’t no doctor,” Delia said, “but it looks to me like you’re gonna have a baby, Missus Fuller.”

She groaned. “How long will I feel this way? I can’t even bear the thought of food.”

“The sickness usually goes away in two or three months. I can fix you some tea that might help. So will a little plain toast. Shall I go fetch you a tray?”

“Fine. As long as you don’t bring me any food with a strong smell.”

Kitty was relieved to know that her mistress’s illness wasn’t something serious like measles or ague. She wondered why Missy didn’t look any happier. “That’s real good news, ain’t it, Missy?” she said after Delia left. “I know you been wanting to give Massa Fuller a baby. Maybe now you will.”

Missy groaned and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I didn’t know that having a baby was going to make me feel this awful.”

Kitty smiled to try and cheer her up, but Missy returned the look with an angry glare. “And what about you? You should be feeling just as miserable as I do by now. Why haven’t you and that stupid coachman of yours made a baby yet?”

A jolt of fear shot through Kitty. She had been so afraid this would happen, so afraid that Missy would get mad. She wished Delia would hurry back and help her explain things. But there was no sign of Delia. “I-I don’t know why, Missy Claire. I’m sorry—”

“Sorry doesn’t help. What am I going to do about a wet nurse? You were supposed to have a baby before I did.”

“I-I know, Missy. But getting upset is only gonna make you feel worse. Let me get Delia. She’ll know how to help.”

“Never mind about Delia.” Missy struggled to sit up in bed. “Now, you listen to me, girl. You’d better do what you’re told in the next few weeks or I’ll have to find someone else to replace you. Do you want to go back to the rice fields?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, if you don’t have a baby soon, that’s exactly where you’re going. You’re worthless to me without a baby. If you aren’t going to be my wet nurse, then I’ll fetch one from Great Oak Plantation and I’ll send you back there.”

It was not an idle threat. Kitty knew that Missy Claire would do it. Why had Kitty ever agreed to deceive her? The worst thing she could have possibly done was to make Missy angry. Now she was going to separate her and Grady and send her away from the home and the people she’d grown to love.

Kitty worried about what to do for the rest of the day. Missy yelled at her for every little thing and glared angrily at her every time she walked into the room, reminding Kitty of her dilemma. “I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Missy growled as Kitty brushed her hair. “I should have known it would be a mistake to rely on you.”

Late that afternoon, Grady returned home with Massa Fuller for the first time in nearly a week. But Kitty had no opportunity to talk to him alone or even to ask Delia what to do. She worried and worried, picturing the drab slaves’ cabins back at Great Oak Plantation, remembering the rice fields and the sting of the overseer’s lash, and imagining life without Grady. By the time she returned to her own room to go to sleep, Kitty knew what she needed to do. She lit a candle and sat down on the bed, waiting for Grady to come upstairs to get his blankets.

“Where have you and Massa been running off to every day?” she asked before he could go back downstairs for the night. “You’re hardly ever home these days.”

“I know,” he said wearily. “Now that the war has started, all the white folks are acting crazy.”

“What does Massa do all day?”

Grady sighed and sank down on a wooden crate. “Him and all the other white men are getting a regiment together called the Ninth South Carolina volunteers to try and protect the seacoast. They’re worried that the Yankees are gonna come with a bunch of warships and try and take Beaufort.”

“You think the Yankees are gonna come here?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “But Massa and the others are building two big forts to try and stop them.”

“Here in town? Over on the Point?”

He shook his head. “Give me your pencil and I’ll show you.”

Kitty brought him the pencil and a scrap of paper, then crouched beside him as he drew a rough map.

“Beaufort and Port Royal are inland from the ocean, on a bay. The Rebels are building Fort Walker over here on Hilton Head Island, and Fort Beauregard across from it on St. Helena Island to guard the entrance into the bay. The Yankees are gonna have to sail right between the two forts to get to Beaufort.”

“Missy Claire said Massa’s been going down to the Green on the Point every day. She said we was gonna go over sometime and watch him drilling all the soldiers.”

“Yeah, we been going over there, too,” Grady said with another sigh. “There’s a whole bunch of new soldiers that are needing to be trained, so they’re using the Green. They’re camping over there and everything. When the forts are done, most of the soldiers will be sent there. The rest will guard the railroad between Charleston and Savannah. The town of Pocotaligo is on that railroad line, halfway between the two cities. It’s only eighteen miles from here.”

“And you been driving Massa to all these places?” she asked.

“Yeah. And then standing around in the heat all day, waiting for him. Here …” Grady handed her the paper and pencil, then stood and stretched. “I drew real lightly so you could erase it again.”

She watched him unbutton his shirt and hang it on the peg where he kept his clothes. He usually undressed in the dark but Kitty had left the candle burning as they’d talked. When he turned his back, she saw the mass of ugly scars crisscrossing his beautiful brown skin. She longed to smooth them away, to make his skin whole again, and to erase the memory of that night. As long as the scars were there to remind him, she knew that Grady was never going to erase the hatred he felt, either.

She laid down the paper and went to him, embracing him from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She felt the June sunshine in the sweaty warmth of his body and inhaled his scent of leather and horses.