An Acquaintance with Darkness - Ann Rinaldi [36]
10. Black Sunday
THE NEXT DAY started out innocently enough. Which should have given me warning. I hadn't had an innocent day in months. I woke feeling refreshed, but when I got up, my foot was throbbing again. I hobbled around the room, dressed, and went down the stairs.
Some people were still yelling in the streets. And the death bells were still tolling. But the sun was shining and the birds were singing and I was starved.
Uncle Valentine was at breakfast, waiting for me.
He looked tired. "Good morning, Emily. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes."
"I see you're limping. How is the foot?"
"It hurts a little."
"I'll change the dressing later. You must eat now. Fix yourself a plate. Everything is there on the sideboard."
Maude had an array of good things set out. Fish and ham and eggs; biscuits, grits, coffee. I looked around. The table was set with four places, good china and sterling. "Who's coming?"
"I never know who. Sometimes a colleague will drop by. Sometimes Marietta. Or one of my students. I'm always grateful for company. But now that you're here, I won't have to worry about eating alone anymore, will I?"
I filled my plate and sat down to eat.
He was reading his newspaper. "For years people called Lincoln a clown and a gorilla, or a Negro-lover. And now they are making him a saint," he said. "His portrait is hanging out front of so many houses. Mobs wanted to burn down Ford's Theater last night. They still might do it."
"Did you go to the White House?"
"Yes." He set down his cup and shuddered. "Poor man. He never had a chance. Oh, there is so much for us yet to learn in the medical profession, Emily. So much. This is a terrible thing, terrible. I hear authorities have raided Booth's room at the National Hotel and seized his papers. The War Department has offered fifty thousand dollars' reward for Booth. And twenty-five thousand for each of his accomplices."
I wondered if that meant Johnny. Was Johnny an accomplice?
It was then that the front-door bell rang and Maude went to answer it. She came into the dining room. "A letter. For Emily."
"Well, give it to her," Uncle Valentine said.
I trembled, taking it. Was it from Johnny? It was from Annie: "Meet me today at the cemetery. Say you're going to visit your mother's grave. Three o'clock." Nothing more. I stuffed it in my pocket and said nothing.
"They are advising homeowners to drape their houses in black bunting," Uncle Valentine was reading. "Mobs are attacking any houses not so decorated. Maude?" He called out.
She came running. "Yes, Dr. Bransby?"
"Do we have any black bunting?"
"Now, why would we have such?"
"Every house should have black bunting, Maude. Every house should be prepared."
"For what? The assassination of a president? There has not been one in my lifetime, Dr. Bransby. And I certainly hope I shall never see one again."
"It says here," and he continued reading, "that if there is no bunting available, old black dresses should be torn up and made into bunting."
"I have no old black dresses, Dr. Bransby. And I'll not give any of my good ones."
"You could dye paper with ink and hang that," I offered.
They looked at me as if I had uncommon powers. "Wonderful idea!" Uncle Valentine said. "Where did you get it?"
"We do it at school sometimes. When we cut silhouettes."
Uncle Valentine asked Maude if we had enough paper, then. "I'll see, Dr. Bransby," she said. And she went to see.
"Would you be so good as to help Maude make the black decorations this afternoon, Emily?" he asked me. "I don't want to be perceived as a Southern sympathizer and have my house attacked."
"I'm going out this afternoon."
"Out? Where out?"
"To visit my mother's grave. With my friend Annie." The moment I mentioned her name I knew I shouldn't have.
He scowled. "Not today, please," he said. "I can't permit you to go out today."
Permit? I stared at him.
He shook his head. "First, you must keep off that foot, or the stitches won't hold. It could become infected. Second, the city has gone mad. People still think it's