Distant Dreams Read online

  Hannah was hooking up the dress and suggesting what to do with her hair, but Carolina barely heard the woman. There seemed to be something more to James Baldwin, and she wanted to understand what that something was. Whatever it might be, it was complicating their relationship as student and teacher and clearly putting an end to any ideas related to the railroad.

  A festive atmosphere reigned supreme in the Adams dining room. Boughs of holly and pine greenery draped the mantel and sideboards. Huge red ribbon bows and candles made sharp contrast to the green, and gold-colored stars were tucked into the branches along the way to reflect the candlelight.

  It was Sunday, one of those rare occasions when the entire family dined together. Usually the younger children ate in the nursery in order to allow the grown-ups an opportunity for civilized conversation and a peaceful meal. But on Sunday the regimen was relaxed, and Margaret and Joseph enjoyed the companionship of their youngest charges.

  This time conversation around the table was light and merry with the little ones sharing ideas of what they hoped to find under the tree when Christmas finally came. Georgia wanted a music box with real mother-of-pearl inlays on cherrywood. She proclaimed to have seen just such a box in Washington when they’d last been there in August. Penny wanted a dollhouse with three floors of rooms and furniture to fill all of the spaces. And Maryland wanted baby dolls and candied orange slices, which came out sounding like, “Bebes and owang swices.”

  Carolina ate her meal in preoccupied silence while Virginia struck up a new subject devoted to the social season already in full swing.

  “The Milfords are having a party next week, and the Montgomery party is the very next night. I thought our party would fit in nicely on the Saturday after next. That would make it almost a full week from Christmas and leave plenty of time to notify the guests.”

  “It sounds perfect, Virginia,” Margaret said and turned to James. “Virginia arranges parties quite well. In fact, there isn’t much she can’t handle when it comes to the home.”

  James smiled. “I’m certain you speak the truth.”

  Carolina listened with halfhearted interest to this exchange. All the while she wondered how she could approach the subject of the accident with James. Perhaps if he talked to her about the circumstances surrounding the accident and whether he and Mr. Davis had been close, she could get him to change his mind about tutoring her on the locomotive.

  “Carolina, you’ve been very quiet this evening,” Joseph remarked. “I hope you aren’t letting your studies overwhelm you.”

  Carolina glanced up. “Not at all. I’m very much enjoying my studies.”

  “Is she a dedicated student?” Joseph asked, turning to James.

  The look that crossed James’ face seemed to Carolina to be one of pride. “She is a far better student than most men. I believe she is capable of learning much.”

  “Still, whatever can she hope to do with that learning?” Margaret chimed in. “Better by far she know the workings of a home than any number of mathematical calculations. She can’t hope to secure a decent marriage if she is unable to tend a home.”

  Carolina wanted to run from the table and found it strange when James came to her defense. “I agree the running of a home should be uppermost in any woman’s mind; however, Carolina could find those number calculations assisting her in her duties. Women often use mathematics and never realize it.”

  “How so?” Margaret seemed intrigued.

  “There are the calculations for the needs of your people. Food enough to feed the family as well as the slaves must be figured into the financial affairs of the plantation. Then, too, you must be able to determine how many bolts of cloth it will take to clothe your people or even to make a simple garment for one of your children. There are many applications you might not consider as a matter of mathematics, but they are there nevertheless.”

  “I had not imagined,” Margaret replied.

  Virginia, composed and sedate with her hair piled high on her head and her mother’s pearls clasped around her neck, finally entered the subject. “I know very few women, however, who would find value in studying locomotives.”

  Carolina’s head snapped up to meet her sister’s smug expression. The statement had been made as an intended insult, but Carolina wasn’t about to let it go without addressing the issue. “Locomotives are going to change the future of this nation. That, in and of itself, should interest everyone.”

  “I heartily agree with Carolina,” Joseph replied.

  Carolina noted that it was now James who grew sullen and silent, but his host seemed not to notice.

  “The railroad will connect us to the Mississippi and beyond,” Joseph continued. “I know the lands west of the Mississippi are planned for Indian homelands, but it will only be a matter of time before white settlers are stretching to overtake that land as well. Why, there are already a good number settled in Texas. Mark my words, one day the United States will own all the land from coast to coast.”

  “Gracious, Joseph,” Margaret said. “What would we ever want with all that land? We could never hope to see it all settled. Why, there simply aren’t enough people.”

  “Lay claim to the land, and the people will come. They’re going there without it even belonging to America proper. There are great vast lands that, once cultivated, will produce food and livestock to provide for our nation and share the burden of our toil here in the East. And too, as the nation is settled and secured with transportation such as the railroad can offer, we will find ourselves a stronger country and capable of dealing with the nations of this world.”

  James seemed to draw even more within himself as Joseph continued. “There are possibilities we have not yet even imagined. I applaud Carolina’s interest in the matter. I think she will find in her lifetime that the railroad will reshape this nation and the attitude of all Americans. Don’t you agree, James?”

  James looked up with a sorrow in his eyes that Carolina immediately wished she could ease. “I believe rail travel will grow quite rapidly,” he said and offered nothing more.

  “I think locomotives are smelly,” Georgia added, not to be left out of any conversation. “And they set things on fire. At school we learned that the engines give off such sparks they ignite the grass.”

  “You are studying the railroad in school?” Joseph asked, putting down his fork.

  “No, not actually,” Georgia replied. “Our schoolmaster has his house near the tracks on the north side of Washington. He doesn’t like the railroad because he’s always having to put out the fires.”

  “That’s one small problem,” Joseph said, resuming his meal. “I’m certain they will find a way to combat it. What of you, James? Any ideas on how they might resolve the problem of sparks?”

  James was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “I’ve not given the matter much thought.”

  Carolina could bear it no longer. To speak in private with James and learn of his attitude toward the railroad was one thing. To make it a dinnertime conversation was something else. Seeking to change the subject, Carolina spoke. “Papa, will you be going into Washington City before Christmas?”

  “I suppose I might. Why do you ask?”

  “I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping.” She smiled sweetly at her father, and only when her sisters joined in to suggest they make a trip did Carolina cast a quick glance to where James sat.

  His gaze met hers and seemed to reflect gratitude. Carolina gave only the hint of a nod before turning her attention back to the discussion. It was enough he knew she cared about his discomfort. Perhaps it would be enough to open the door to a conversation regarding the accident.

  25

  Truce Between Friends

  After supper Carolina made her way outside for a brief walk. Her father and James had retired to the study for some male discussion while Virginia and Margaret began addressing the details of the upcoming party. For once, Carolina was grateful to be ignored. The biting cold of the w
ind stung her cheeks, but the air was invigorating and she ignored the discomfort and walked on.

  The garden, now brown and dead, would no doubt soon be covered in snow. The thought saddened her. She’d never liked winter with its deathlike grip upon the land. Nor had she cared for its long dark nights and short gloomy days. In winter the light was subdued, and all of nature was subjected to the despair that the sun might never again shine in full. Of course there were splendid days when the sun reflected in brilliance against full fields of snow, but they were so few, and they never satisfied her like a field of green against warm brown dirt. No, she longed already for the flowering trees of spring and her mother’s beloved daffodils and irises.

  A lone lantern hanging along the path between the main house and the slave quarters rocked gently in the breeze and gave off strange shadowy patterns on the pathway. The ghostly apparitions played games with her mind, and Carolina shuddered. She thought of Granny, so old and feeble. So near death. It was not believed that Granny would live through another winter. Granny said it didn’t matter a single bit to her. She was heaven bound, and the good Lord could fetch her home anytime He saw fit.

  Thinking of this, Carolina stared up at the starry sky and wondered at the images there. Was heaven somewhere up beyond the pinpoints of starlight? Was anything truly up there? Sometimes the stars looked close enough to reach up and touch. And other times, like tonight, they seemed to be so far from reach that Carolina felt small and insignificant. Perhaps it was all just an illusion. Perhaps heaven was an illusion as well, and if it were, then where did you go when you died?

  Making her way around the house, she passed the tiny family cemetery. Death made her think of the man who’d died in the derailment. She remembered the pain she’d seen in James’ expression at supper. It wasn’t just discomfort with the subject; it was a deep penetrating grief. If locomotives and railroad talk caused him that much sorrow, she reasoned, perhaps it would be better to just drop the subject.

  I’ve been selfish, she concluded. I’ve not given a single thought to what he must be going through. If Mr. Davis was his friend, James must have been with him when he died. Carolina couldn’t imagine for a single moment what it must be like to watch someone you care about die. She had not even been born when her brothers died. What if she happened to be there when Granny died? How could she ever bear such a thing? How could anyone?

  Pulling her cloak tight, Carolina heard the moaning sound of the wind as it rushed through the stand of trees. The dogwood and redbud trees, now void of leaves, made a line of spectral figures along the path, causing Carolina to shudder. Suddenly she wanted to be back in the house, safe and warm. Thoughts of death were taking a greater toll on her than the icy blasts of wind. Crossing the yard at a run, she came up the steps of the side veranda and paused to catch her breath.

  “You ran like the devil himself was chasing you.” The voice was the rich baritone of James Baldwin.

  Carolina nearly jumped a foot. She couldn’t see his face clearly, for the only light was that which shone out through the window, but she heard him chuckle.

  “Sorry, I didn’t intend to startle you,” he said.

  The apology sounded sincere and Carolina decided to let it go. “I’m afraid,” she said, hoping to put the matter to rest, “I got a little spooked.”

  “It’s a good night for it.” His tone immediately became sober.

  Carolina stepped closer in order to make out the details of his face. Impulsively, she decided to apologize for her behavior regarding the railroad studies. “I’m glad to find you here,” she began. She noted his puzzled expression and continued quickly before he could offer comment. “I have come to realize I was wrong in pressuring you about the railroad. I won’t do it again. You must have endured a great deal, and I was insensitive to forget the accident.”

  He remained silent and his face seemed to take on a stern, almost harsh expression.

  “I hope you can forgive me,” she said quietly. When there was still no response, she added in as even a tone as she could, trying to hide her awkwardness, “Good evening, Mr. Baldwin.” Carolina turned to leave.

  “Wait, please don’t go,” James said, surprising her with his urgency.

  She turned back to face him. “Yes?”

  “I . . .” His voice trailed away, and he turned his focus toward the dark shadowy yard.

  “You have every right to be angry with me,” she said, trying desperately to fill the intense silence. “I was only thinking of myself, but you must understand that I’ve developed an absolute passion for the railroad. I let that overwhelm my better judgment.” She was rambling, saying anything and everything that came to mind. Suddenly it seemed very important that he understand. “I guess I didn’t associate my ambitions with the toll it would extract on you. Especially given the accident and—” She stopped abruptly, afraid to mention what she had just learned from the magazine.

  After several moments had passed in silence, James finally spoke. “I appreciate what you did for me at supper.” He hesitated, glanced at her, then skittishly looked away. “I’ve been lost inside this problem for some time, and I can’t say as I know how to deal with it properly. I know of your enthusiasm for the railroad. I once held the same feelings.”

  “But you don’t now?” Carolina asked softly, her voice barely audible above the growing force of the wind, which made her toes tingle and whipped up under her skirt.

  “No,” James answered. “I want to run as far away from the railroad as is humanly possible.”

  Suddenly Carolina saw a vulnerability in James she had never noted before. She had been so wrapped up in perceiving him as the elder, the one to be in awe of, that she had failed to really see the person James was. There was very much a lost little boy in James, and that aspect was both endearing and confusing to Carolina.

  “But why?” she asked, trying to be sensitive.

  James walked away from her a few paces and stood up against the veranda rail, staring out into the darkness. “I knew a wonderful man . . . his name was Phineas Davis.”

  “The man who died in the train derailment?”

  “Yes.” James didn’t bother to turn around. “He and I became acquainted. I didn’t know him long, but we had many of the same goals, the same dreams for our lives—and we both loved the railroad. Phineas was responsible for creating the new engines used by the B&O Railroad, and he had just offered me a job working with him when the accident took place.

  “I had already accepted the position, and for a few moments life seemed so good. Then, in a literal wink of an eye, everything fell apart. The train derailed and Phineas was killed instantly.” He sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I can still see his face in death. The look of disbelief and confusion. I dream about it still.”

  “I’m so sorry.” The words seemed inadequate. Carolina felt her youth and inexperience as never before.

  “I never wanted to see another locomotive as long as I lived, and then I came here and you immediately began to besiege me about the railroad. . . .”

  “You do believe that I am truly sorry about that?”

  James turned to face her. “Yes . . . I know that.”

  Still, he sounded so miserable, and Carolina felt an urge to mother him—she who was but a child herself.

  “It’s not your fault, don’t you see?” he went on. “I’m trying to keep from having to deal with this, and you, in your way, have forced me to see it straightforward. It’s not just Phineas—although I will miss him. It’s much more.”

  Carolina forgot the numbness in her feet and the bone-chilling wind. She forgot everything but the man standing before her. Only yesterday it seemed they were childhood adversaries. And literally yesterday they were adversaries in a different way. But suddenly this man emerged from that level to become a person of deep feeling.

  Drawing a slow breath she spoke the words that had been on her heart all evening. “Perhaps in confronting it, Mr. Baldwin, you can
finally be free of the pain.”

  “Pain?”

  “It’s plain to see. You didn’t need to speak; your eyes said it all.” She paused, wanting to make certain the words were just right. “I saw it in your expression tonight—the way it hurt you when we discussed the railroad.”

  He nodded. “Yes . . . pain. Can you even imagine it, Carolina?”

  “No, not really. But I want to, Mr. Baldwin. I want to understand.” She warmed at the intimate use of her first name.

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t that what friends do?”

  “Friends?” He smiled. “I’d like that . . . so much more than whatever we’ve been since I came.” He paused, seeming to give careful consideration to his next words. “It’s just that I thought I knew what I wanted from life. The railroad had become everything to me. When I woke up in the morning I thought instantly of locomotive designs. And every time I heard the bell or whistle blast I thought of how I would one day be an important part of linking the country together. I truly loved it.”

  “Then why abandon it?” she probed gently.

  “I may not have known Phineas Davis as well as I would have liked, but he believed in me and wanted me to join him in working for the B&O.”

  “That’s all very well and fine. Still, why turn your back on what you obviously love?”

  James’ expression turned cold. “Phineas died at the hand of the very thing he loved. How can I possibly go back to the railroad and work with the engine designs he began, knowing all the while that the railroad cost him his life?”

  The wind picked up, and again the low moaning sound echoed through the buildings and trees. Carolina shivered, but not from the cold. “Your friend died doing what he wanted to do. You said yourself, it was the thing he loved most. How can you hold it against him to have lived and died the way he chose?”

  “But he didn’t choose to die out there in a train derailment,” James insisted.

  “No one ever really chooses their way of dying, but they do choose how to live. Your friend had a dream and a desire to see that dream fulfilled. He put his life into it. Why not his death? Would he have put the railroad aside if he’d known it would kill him?”