The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (27 page)

“You’ll have even more assurance,” Thomas said grimly, reaching for his own rifle.  “I’m going with you.”

Chapter Fifteen

The ride through the dark streets of Richmond showed just how disheartened the town had become from the news of Atlanta’s defeat, along with the constant noise of gunfire and shelling from Petersburg.  The roads were almost completely deserted – porches had been abandoned.  The whole city appeared to have drawn in on itself.

No one said a word.  Thomas and Hobbs held their rifles in a ready position as Carrie tried to prepare for what she would find. 

The last two times she had visited Pastor Anthony she could tell he was getting worse, but his spirits were still good.  There was a steady stream of his parishioners flowing into his house; bringing food and all the love they could share with the good man who had done so much for him.  Jeremy had taken a leave from work to help care for him.

Carrie sprang from the carriage as soon as it reached his house.  She nodded her greeting to the large mass of people who had defied the curfew and gathered outside their beloved pastor’s home.   She ran up the walk, squeezed Jeremy’s hand, and headed for Pastor Anthony’s room. 

She could hear him even before she reached his room, his labored breathing causing her heart to break.  “Hello,” she said gently, taking his hand.

He gazed up at her, his eyes saying he knew there was nothing she could do.  Then he looked at Jeremy who watched from the doorway.  “Please give us some time alone,” he wheezed. 

“But…”  Pastor Anthony’s eyes stopped Carrie from saying anything else.

Jeremy nodded reluctantly, moved back, and closed the door.

Pastor Anthony beckoned her to come closer.  “You were right” he whispered, his voice broken by the wheezing. 

He held up his hand when Carrie started to say something.  “Please…”

Carrie nodded, suddenly understanding what this effort was costing him. 

“You haven’t told Jeremy.”

Carrie shook her head, hope springing forth in her heart.  “No.”

Pastor Anthony’s face twisted with pain.  “Thank you.”  He fought to regain his breath and then said, “He deserves to know the truth.”

Tears sprang to Carrie’s eyes as pain robbed him of his ability to speak again.  “Pastor Anthony…”

He shook his head weakly.  “My dresser,” he gasped.  “The top drawer… a letter… for Jeremy…”  He fell back against the pillow, a blue tint beginning to form around his lips.

Carrie placed a finger against his lips.  “I will get it to him,” she promised.  “My father and I will be there for him.  I promise you he will not be alone.”

Relief flared in Pastor Anthony’s eyes.  For a moment his breathing grew easier.  “You’re a good woman,” he whispered.  “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
,” Carrie said, tears falling freely now.  “You’ve been such a good friend.  You saved Rose and Moses.  You brought me here to the hospital.  I will always be grateful for having you in my life.”

Pastor Anthony, able to only stare at her, slumped back against the pillow.  Carrie had seen that same look many times.

Carrie sprang for the door and opened it for Jeremy.  “It’s time,” she said tenderly.  “I’ll leave you alone with your father.”

Jeremy grabbed her hand.  “No.  Please stay.” 

Carrie understood.  Death could be such a scary thing.  She nodded and settled down in the chair beside the bed.  When Jeremy pulled one up beside her, she placed his father’s limp, cold hand in his own strong, tanned one.  “Just be with him,” she whispered.

Jeremy stared down at his father.  “I love you so much.  Thank you for the life you’ve given me.  Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” his voice broke off, clogged with tears. 

Pastor Anthony stared back, unable to speak, but all his love shining through his bright blue eyes.  Long minutes passed, the only sound in the room the rattle of his labored breathing. 

Suddenly Pastor Anthony’s eyes cleared as he reached up to hold his son’s face.  “I love you, Jeremy,” he said, his strong voice ringing through the room.  “I am so proud of you and always will be.”

Jeremy, hope springing forth in his eyes, gasped with wonder and looked at Carrie.

Carrie shook her head sadly.  She had seen this before; just before death some men had been so infused with God’s spirit they were able to say what was most important. 

“I love you, too!” Jeremy cried.

Pastor Anthony smiled and relaxed back against the pillows.  Suddenly he opened his eyes again, a light of wonder shining in them, and raised his arms to the ceiling.  “They’ve come for me,” he whispered. 

He lay back and closed his eyes, peace settling on his face like the calm on a stormy sea.

Jeremy looked at her wildly.  “Is he sleeping?”

“He’s gone,” Carrie said softly. 

Jeremy moaned and put his head on his father’s chest.  “Goodbye,” he whispered.

Carrie slipped out of the room to give him some privacy, nodded to her father to let him know it was over, and then stepped out onto the porch.  Almost one hundred faces stared up at her. 

“You can go home now,” she said gently.  “Pastor Anthony is with God.”

Silence greeted her announcement, and then, one by one, mourners faded away into the darkness, silently slipping back to their homes.  These were people accustomed to death and grief. 

Carrie stared off toward Petersburg as Spencer drove her, Janie, and Thomas through the dusty streets to attend Pastor Anthony’s funeral, thinking of all the men who had died during the war.  She knew that most soldiers who died on the field would never rest in their family plots; usually casualties were buried where they fell.  Alone.

The rate of wounded soldiers dying in the city had altered the funeral process from a carefully followed ceremony to something much less elaborate.  Usually a handful of Confederate women - determined not to let even one of their “boys” be buried alone - attended the funerals, watched them be laid to rest, and then wrote letters home to the families. 

Pastor Anthony’s congregation was determined their beloved leader would leave them with the love and respect he deserved.  When Carrie filed in with Janie and her father, over two hundred people already filled every nook and cranny of the small church:  children sat on laps, people lined the walls.

What amazed Carrie was how many white faces were interspersed among the black ones.  The sight filled her with hope.  She and Pastor Anthony had often talked about what it would take to bring the two races together.

“He would be pleased to know his death brought all these people here,” she murmured.

Thomas nodded.  “Many of Jeremy’s colleagues are here to show their respect.  Many didn’t know his father; but they know him and want to give their support.”

Thankfully, this early September day still carried the coolness that had enveloped the city the night before.  No one doubted an Indian summer would heat things up again, but they were grateful the tiny church was not as stifling as it usually was in summer.

The service began when Pastor Marcus George, a white pastor from a small Richmond church and also a longtime friend of Pastor Anthony, stepped to the podium.  “We will do things a little differently,” he said, smiling down at the earnest faces staring up at him.  “A few weeks ago, I talked with Pastor Anthony about his service.  He knew he didn’t have much time left.”

Carrie and Janie exchanged looks and smiled; neither was surprised today’s funeral would follow no one’s expectations.  One reason their friend had made such a difference was that he had never cared what others thought; his only goal was to serve God.

“Your pastor requested I let all of you speak,” Pastor George continued.  “Oh, he knew I could be eloquent,” he said with a smile, “but he wanted all of you to share your memories.  He plans on smiling as he listens.”

The congregation gasped and looked upward as if they expected to see Pastor Anthony’s kind eyes gazing down at them.

“Who would like to begin?” Pastor George asked as he stepped back from the podium.

A young mother, two small children in tow, stood up first.  “Pastor Anthony be like a father to me.  My husband died right after my youngest be born, and I lost a daughter when the Tredegar Iron Works exploded.  I sho nuff didn’t see any reason for living.”  She paused and looked toward Jeremy.  “Your daddy be the finest man I know.  He come to see me ‘most every day and prayed for me.   He made sure I had food, and he got other church folks to plant me a garden.  He knew I didn’t have nothin’ in me to fight with.”

The church was silent as she told her story. 

“The day finally come – just like he said it would – when I felt a mite better.  I realized I still had me two fine young’uns to love and I best get around to doin’ it.”  She gazed around the room.  “I’m gonna miss Pastor Anthony a powerful lot, but I know he be in a good place now.  I figure God done have real special places in heaven for people like him.” 

One by one, people stood and told their stories of Pastor Anthony’s love and care.  Tears flowed freely and love wrapped the church in its embrace.

Carrie smiled when a lanky man stood.

“My name be Angus.  I didn’t think too much about God for a right long time.  Not till I got beat up by a bunch of white men.”  He paused and stared right at Carrie.  “I reckon I would have died – me and the other fellas – if Pastor Anthony hadn’t started that hospital, and if Miss Carrie and Miss Janie hadn’t come down here to help us.”

Everyone in the church turned to smile at Carrie and Janie.

“I was beat up real bad.  Both arms was broke, most of my ribs was caved in, and Miss Carrie had to put a whole lot of stitches in to put me back together.”  He took a deep breath.  “I reckon I wanted to die, but Pastor Anthony convinced me I had a reason to live.  Miss Carrie fixed my body, but Pastor Anthony fixed my soul.”   Nodding solemnly, he sat back down.

Carrie stood and gazed around the room.  “I have lost a very special friend,” she said.  “All of you have lost your pastor… your spiritual leader.  I know you feel lost right now, but Pastor Anthony has given you what you need to move forward.  He taught you about God, but he also taught you how to take care of each other.  None of us live alone in this world.  He taught us how to come together as a family.  He taught you to grow gardens for each other.  He taught you to care for each other in the hospital.  He taught you to teach your children what he taught you.” 

She stopped and smiled at all the intense faces.  “Pastor Anthony taught you to love.  That will never die.  His greatest legacy – his greatest hope – is that when he was gone you would continue to love one another.”

She paused again and thought about the conversations they had had in the last few weeks.  “Pastor Anthony was ready,” she said strongly.  “His only regrets were that he had to leave Jeremy and all of you.  He loved you all so much,” she said softly, and then, her eyes shining, she glanced toward the ceiling. 

“Pastor Anthony was ready to go home.  He told me once that when he died he thought God would reach down to give him a big hug.  He planned to raise both his arms and give God a hug right back, and then God would take him home.”

She heard Jeremy’s gasp and met his eyes across the church, knowing both of them were remembering Pastor Anthony’s final moments when he raised both arms and whispered, “
He’s come for me
...”

“When he knew there was nothing that could be done to save him, he was so excited to go home to be with God.  He’s always felt that way – that being here on earth was being away from his true home.  He determined to live his life the best he could, but he’s always longed for his true home.  He could hardly wait to see God.”  She smiled as tears streamed down her face.  “His prayers every day for the last few weeks have been for all of you.  He loved you all so much.”

Silence enveloped the church when she sat down.

Jeremy was the last to stand.  “Thank you, Carrie.  It helps to think of my father smiling with God.” He turned to the congregation.  “It was just as my father wanted it to be,” he told them.  “At the end, with a glorious smile on his face, he raised both his arms toward heaven and whispered,
‘They’ve come for me.’
”

“I know my father is happy,” he said with a smile.  “Now it’s up to all of us to live our best lives.  Your decision to do that will be the best thing you could possibly do for my father.”  He took a deep breath and blinked back his tears.  “I will do the same thing.  I had the best father in the world.  I will miss him every single day, but I’m determined to make him proud.”