Glimmers of Change (14 page)

Jeremy was downstairs checking one of the machines when the day ended and the workers began to leave. Tension had been high for the entire day, but there were no confrontations. Evidently, they had all received the message that anyone who began trouble would be fired immediately. He rubbed a hand across his eyes, the long day suddenly catching up with him. Abby was right as usual. The real work had only just begun. He wished working with people was as straight forward as the equipment he was fixing.

He worked steadily, his thoughts moving forward to the next day. He stiffened when a scuffling sound came from behind him. He thought the building had emptied out long before. “Who’s there?” he called sharply, wondering if he had been foolish to leave his pistol in the office.

“Marcus,” came the immediate reply.

Jeremy waited while a black man, muscular and powerful, moved forward from the shadows. He watched him carefully, seeing nothing in his eyes to cause alarm. He forced himself to relax. “Why are you still here, Marcus?”

“I be wanting to talk to you, Mr. Anthony,” Marcus said nervously, looking around to see if anyone else was still in the building.

“About?”

Marcus cleared his throat but his gaze didn’t waver. “Me and some of the others want to know why you be paying everyone the same.”

“Does it matter?”

Marcus hesitated but then nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Jeremy eyed him with curiosity, liking the clear shine of intelligence he saw in his eyes. He remembered hiring him. “You served with the Union Army,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Before the war you were a free man. You served as a blacksmith.”

“You have a good memory,” Marcus observed, watching him. “You remember everyone that good?”

“No,” Jeremy admitted. “Do you remember Pastor Marcus Anthony?”

“Of course,” Marcus said, his eyes brightening. “He was a good man.” Suddenly his eyes opened wider. “Jeremy Anthony. You be Pastor Anthony’s son?”

Jeremy nodded. “Yes. I remembered you from my father’s congregation.”

“He was a real good man. He helped my mama out a lot during the war,” Marcus replied. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy murmured. He would always miss the man who had been his father for his whole life. “Now, why does it matter how we pay people? Isn’t it enough that you’ll be paid the same?”

“I got my reasons,” Marcus said cryptically.

Jeremy saw the caution in his eyes and knew he wasn’t going to say more. At least not yet. “It’s not very complicated, Marcus. The Cromwells and I believe in equal rights for all people. We don’t think people should be paid differently based on the color of their skin or on their gender.”

“Most people down here — especially white people — don’t think the same way.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t care what other people think. My father taught me to stand on my own feet a long time ago.” He saw Marcus open and close his mouth, fear flickering in his eyes. “What do you really want to know?” he asked bluntly.

Marcus opened his mouth again and his eyes darted through the dark shadows.

Jeremy understood he was afraid of being overheard. “Let’s go up to my office,” he said suddenly. His gut told him he was safe with Marcus, but he was also aware the pistol in his drawer would even things out if Marcus had another intent besides just talking. He moved over to the stairs and climbed them quickly. Marcus followed him and stepped to the side while he closed the door. “Now, what is really on your mind?”

“Well, I done heard a few things…” Marcus began, his voice revealing his discomfort.

Jeremy felt for his nervousness but fatigue was pressing on him, and he knew May had a wonderful dinner waiting for him. “I’ve found saying things straight out usually works best,” he said. “Just say what you need to say.”

Marcus nodded. “I know that be best. I just don’t know how to say what I got to say.” He took a deep breath. “There be rumors around town,” he finally said.

Jeremy struggled with his impatience. “I imagine there are rumors about a lot of things. Could you be more specific?” For a brief moment, he wondered if the truth had come out about his heritage but dismissed that as paranoia.

Marcus stared at him. “You’re right that straight out is best,” he muttered. He straightened his shoulders and held Jeremy’s gaze. “You got a black sister, Mr. Anthony?”

Jeremy stiffened, rigid with disbelief for a long moment. His voice was under control when he answered. “Where did you hear that, Marcus?” He stopped before he added the question about just why he figured it was any of his business. He wanted to learn what was being said.

“Like I said, there be rumors,” he said levelly.

Jeremy wasn’t comfortable with either the truth
or
a lie. He fought to keep his thoughts clear and his face neutral, and decided to go back to his earlier question when Marcus had wanted to know about pay. “Would it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Jeremy asked sharply.

Marcus took a long breath. “Look, I ain’t trying to mess in your business, Mr. Anthony.”

Jeremy just looked at him, not willing to say anything.

Marcus looked away uncomfortably but then swung his gaze back. “Me and some of the others figured if it was true, then you might be a good ally.” He paused. “Now that I know who your daddy was, I figure that might be
more
true.”

“Ally?” Jeremy pressed, liking everything he was feeling about Marcus but still not willing to trust him. It could all be a setup to hurt the factory or to create trouble for him as a mulatto.

Marcus shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh. “It be okay if I sit down?” he asked suddenly.

Jeremy nodded toward a chair and waited for him to continue, still standing behind his desk.

“Things ain’t going so good for blacks right now,” Marcus said. “You hear about the Black Codes?”

“Yes,” Jeremy admitted, still not sure how much to reveal. “They’re not in Virginia.”

“Yet,” Marcus said bluntly. “You and I both know they are coming.”

Jeremy said nothing, knowing he couldn’t refute the statement. His brain raced hard to figure out what to do with the knowledge that the black community knew about his heritage.

“Even without them, life ain’t so good for us right now,” Marcus continued. “We be free on paper, but the white folks doing all they can to rip away that freedom so it don’t mean anything.”

Jeremy listened and continued to wait, hoping he would hear something that would give him an indication of how to respond.

“We need help,” Marcus said directly.

“And you think I can help?” Jeremy asked carefully.

Marcus shrugged his powerful shoulders. “You’re carrying an awful big burden,” he said suddenly. “I figure the rumors be true, or you would have just denied them outright. Instead, you’re just trying to figure out how much I know.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I ain’t got no reason to cause trouble for you, Mr. Anthony. I be taking a risk talking to you like this. I know you could fire me, but I told everyone I would do it.”

Jeremy tensed. “Everyone?”

“There are a group of us who are trying to make things better. We already figured out that ain’t nobody but the blacks really care about what happens to us. We’s fighting in every way we can, but we ain’t too proud to ask for help.”

Jeremy suddenly relaxed. He had been looking for a way to help. Here it was being dumped in his lap and he was dodging it like he was escaping an angry hornet. He managed a chuckle as he sank down in his chair. “I’m sorry, Marcus. You caught me by surprise.”

“I reckon I did,” Marcus agreed easily.

“The rumors are true,” Jeremy revealed. “My twin sister is one of the most amazing women I know. And, yes, she is black. She grew up as a slave on Cromwell Plantation.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Mr. and Mrs.…”

“Yes,” Jeremy said, feeling relief to finally let it out. “Thomas Cromwell is my half-brother. My father and mother adopted me after I was sold to keep Thomas’s father’s reputation intact. I only found out a couple years ago.”

“Your sister?”

“She is a teacher,” Jeremy responded. “She escaped the plantation with the help of Thomas’s daughter just after the war started. She taught at the Grand Contraband Camp until the war ended. Her husband, Moses, fought as a Union soldier. He now runs Cromwell Plantation as a half owner.”

Marcus leaned forward even more. “Half owner?” he sputtered.

Jeremy smiled. “Mr. Cromwell did a lot of changing during the war.”

“That be for sure,” Marcus muttered. “That be quite a story…”

Jeremy chuckled again. “I know about the Black Codes. I also know that as a mulatto, I am at risk, as well.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna guess about you,” Marcus protested. “You look so white ain’t nobody gonna guess you got black blood.”

“You did,” Jeremy reminded him wryly.

It was Marcus’s turn to chuckle. “There wasn’t any guessing involved,” he said. “The black grapevine works real well. It’s had to ever since the beginning of slavery. It also keeps its secrets real well. Ain’t no black man that knows about you gonna say anything. We just trying to stay on top of things that can help us.”

“And you think I can help?” Jeremy asked again, leaning on his desk. “How?”

A wave of relief washed over Marcus’s face. “We had to fight last year to get the pass restrictions taken off us. The one good thing that come from that was all of us banding together. Used to be, freed men and slaves didn’t really have much to do with each other. Now that all of us be free, we’s got to work together.” He paused, his eyes serious. “We be doing that.”

“How?”

“The way we’re being treated is making folks real angry. John Oliver is helping us come together.”

“John Oliver?”

“John Oliver ain’t even from the South,” Marcus explained. “He be from up in Boston where he worked as a carpenter. He was real active in the American Missionary Society and fought hard for all of us to be free. When the war was over, he came down here just to see how things were. He found out real quick.”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at the anger that filled Marcus’s voice with the last statement, but he continued to listen quietly.

“John Oliver was walking down the street last year when he caught sight of the Black Bull Pen.”

Jeremy grimaced. “The old Rebel hospital,” he said with disgust. He had heard about what they decided to use it for after the war.

“Yes. That’s where they were putting all the blacks they were rounding up who didn’t have passes from white people saying we can do our jobs. Anyway, John Oliver caught sight of it one day when he was out walking around.” Marcus shook his head. “The provost guard caught sight of him at the same time. They demanded a pass. John Oliver showed them his pass from Massachusetts, figuring it would protect him.”

“It didn’t,” Jeremy said heavily.

“No. They shoved him into the Bull Pen. He stayed there until he found someone who would write a pass for him.” Marcus smiled slightly. “The good thing is that John Oliver decided the blacks down here need him real bad, so he decided to stay. He says we all gots to become activists.” His expression became serious. “He’s right.”

“The Bull Pen was closed and Mayor Mayo replaced after the protests last year,” Jeremy said, thinking what a sacrifice John Oliver had made. Surely life was much easier for him in Boston.

Marcus nodded. “We been doing a lot since last summer. We been holding mass meetings and putting together committees. Once we got everything in place, we be going to the right public officials to present our case. Last July there was even some of us who went up to Alexandria to the Convention of the Colored People of Virginia.” His eyes glowed with pride. “I gots to go. It was really something seeing all those black people in one place willing to fight for our rights.”

Jeremy listened closely. “The black community seems to be doing all the right things,” he observed. “What do you need me for?”

“We’re figuring it all out,” Marcus admitted, “but John Oliver says it be real important to have some white people on our side. He says there gonna be times when we need the white voice to make our point.”

“He knows I’m mulatto?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes, but the white people don’t,” Marcus replied.

Jeremy took a deep breath. “I was fired from my job last year because word got around.”

Marcus frowned. “I wasn’t aware of that.” His brow creased with thought. “How many people knew?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t really know. Things were rather chaotic. I was just called in one day and told my kind didn’t have a place in the Richmond government anymore.”

Marcus considered his words. “Them people that fired you still here?”

Jeremy stared at him as his mind raced. “No,” he finally said. “They all went home to other states…” His voice trailed off as he thought of the ramifications of his own words.

“They likely didn’t tell many people,” Marcus observed. “Like you said, things be kinda wild back then. Anybody said anything since you been working on the factory?”