Sweet Chariot Excerpt

The following is my latest scene from Sweet Chariot:



Emily's ears caught the voices almost as soon as she stepped outside to gather firewood. She stopped, listening as they steadily approached.



Thinking swiftly, she ran around the house and pressed herself against the wall. She inhaled deep, silent breaths as she waited. Apprehensiveness crept into her and filled her inner being with nervous terror until she shook with it and the humid air drew perspiration from her skin.



Finally, two figures emerged; a young lady and her father. A lantern was in the man's hand.



Anne's voice rang clear throughout the night. "Oh, Father, I am quite weary. Can we not sit down under that tree and talk of this problem?"



"Of course, Anne dearest."



Mr. and Miss Jackson elapsed into silence as they turned in Emily's direction. Their slow, even strides eventually brought them to the tree which stood between Emily's home and her neighbors'. Sitting with her back to the trunk, Anne continued the conversation. "Ah, that is much better. Now, I heard that Sarah mention God to you. Do you think she knows of Him?"



"Doubtless, my dear, doubtless. But I haven't the faintest clue to who could have told her about Him."



"I still suspect that it is all the cause of the cholera pandemic. We should have sold them all, as I said."



"That is something that I simply must deny you of, Anne. I am sorry."



"Seeing as that is not your course of action, than what is?"



Emily heard him sigh, then begin slowly. "I have conferred over this matter with your mother. Indeed, that was the very reason I have aked you to accompany me upon this walk; to relay to you our plan and ask your opinion. We are ordering that every slave and overseer who hears the Bible being referred to in any form to immediately report to us. I shall then have the offender flogged and sold. There shall be no mercy."



From her tone of voice, Emily could tell that Anne was opening her pocket mirror and inspecting her curls. "Hmm, yes. That is a fairly reasonable plan. It should be applicable as well as mightily effective. It is a great alternative to my plan, and, I must admit, that even I could not have thought of something better."



Emily could listen no longer. Silently, she darted around the house and into the forest.



Feet running swiftly, she ran until she came upon the little cememtery, whose gravestones seemed to have sprung up overnight. Her eyes meandered from one stone to the next. She found herself wandering among them, each name etched into the past bringing up an image of the sick one whom she had watched slip into death's cold grip in her attempt to tell them about Jesus. She knew all too well that the Jacksons meant what they said.



"Oh, God, what am I to do?" she whispered, rubbing her hand affectionately upon the rough edge of one of the stones.



A breeze rippled her hair as she roved aisle upon aisle of graves. The thought of running away danced in her head, but it was countered by a feeling in her heart that she was not done here, that something else was coming.



She lingered by Rosa's grave. The deceased child's words rang in her ears. "I done so much bad. Dere's so much dat I need to say 'sorry' for, an' now I ain't ne'er gonna have dat chance!"



Emily sat, her legs tucked beneath her. Tears formed in the back of her eyes as she stared at the crude letters engraved into the stone. She absently scooped up a fistful of dirt and allowed it to filter through her fingers. God's Voice resonated through her head and heart.



You must not give in now, My child. You must stay strong, for your greatest challenge lies still ahead of you, one that , if rightly performed, will leave an indelible mark on your plantation. Look yonder, by Rosa's grave. What do you see?



Emily bent forward and grasped the stem of a withering rose that she had cast upon the girl's grave only a week before. She answered God mentally as she fingered it. A rose. It's a rose, but it's withered.



But, if properly cared for, would it live?



Yes.



Then keep it. Nurture and care for it. In life, there will be times that you will wonder if I still love you. In your mind, it will be just as if My love has withered. But, if you cling to Me, you will discover that My love never dies, and can be lovelier than that rose when it blooms. Keep it as a reminder for when times get harsh.



Emily nodded, sweeping away the tears with the back of her hand. She whispered, "Yes, God. Thank You."



She rose. Picking up any tinder she found along the way, she made her way back to her lowly abode, the precious rose riding in between her left hand and the pile of wood.