Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [174]
“No, wait. . . .” Caroline begged. “Josiah’s wife and child live with me. At least let them be together—”
“Why? So you can help him escape like you helped all the others? You must take me for a fool.”
“But Josiah saved Charles’ life. Your son would be lying dead in a trench out there if Josiah hadn’t brought him here. You have to—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I have to do with my slaves.” Mr. St. John limped to the door, then turned to look at his son again before leaving. His eyes filled with tears. “I’ll let you take care of him for now because I want him to live. But as soon as he’s well enough, I’m going to tell him the truth about you.” He left without another word.
As Caroline waited by Charles’ bedside that long night, some of the other men in the room began to moan. One of them wept softly. Without even thinking, Caroline went to them, one by one, and tended to their needs—giving one a drink of water, quietly praying with another. She closed the staring eyes of one young man who had died and gently pulled the sheet over his face. When she returned to Charles’ cot, she noticed Eli still sitting on the floor beside him.
“You may as well go home, too, Eli. I don’t intend to leave Charles’ side.”
“Me either,” he said, shaking his head. “I staying here to pray for him. And for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Caroline sank down on her knees beside Charles’ cot and took his limp hand in her own. He was barely alive. The slender thread had never seemed more ragged and frail. Caroline’s tears began to fall again as she silently prayed.
“Please, Lord. All I ask of you is that you allow Charles to live.
In return . . . in return . . . I . . .”
She paused, unsure of what she could offer God in return for so great a gift as Charles’ life. The debt she already owed God for all the injustices done to Grady, to Tessie and Josiah, to the slaves her family had kept at Hilltop, was much too great an account to ever repay. She had no close family members now that her mother was dead, her father and Jonathan missing. Her servants were her family, but their lives weren’t hers to barter. All she had was herself.
“In return for Charles’ life, I offer you my own. I offer you the life Charles and I would have had together as husband and wife, the son we might have had if we’d married. It doesn’t matter what you do with me, Lord. It doesn’t matter if Charles ever forgives me . . . or if I go to prison . . . or if I hang for my crimes. Whatever you ask of me, Lord, I’ll do. I’ll obey you as your servant. I only ask that you let Charles live. Please . . . let him live. . . .”
Caroline stayed by his bedside day and night for the next week, afraid to leave. Her servants brought her meals. The first time Charles regained consciousness and saw her sitting beside him he smiled, then closed his eyes again. Even before he’d been wounded, Charles had lost so much weight after weeks of dysentery and near-starvation that at first he didn’t seem to have the strength to get well. Caroline fed him the vegetable broth Esther had cooked; she made sure he drank water; she changed the dressings on his wounds herself to keep them clean; she bathed him with cool water when he grew feverish. All the while she never stopped praying, offering her future as Charles’ wife in return for his life.
Charles’ family came to the hospital every day, too, spending hours by his bedside. When Charles was conscious, Caroline thought he would surely notice the looks of hatred his father gave her, or the way his mother glared at Caroline every time she touched him, or the fact that Sally never spoke a single word to her. But Charles was much too sick to be aware of what went on around him. Sally had decided to wait until he was out