Clarence is dead.
No! Clarence? Dead? It was ridiculous! Everyone was delusional, even level-headed Cassie, believing that Clarence was dead? It couldn't be. Clarence couldn't be dead. She'd had so many plans for them—and their little baby! Dead! The bitter word suddenly hit her as if she'd been struck with a club. Sissy began to run away from her Ma's house, away from the yard, away—away—into the woods.
How her feet flew! Sissy's chest burned and she gasped for air but did not stop running. She leapt over a small culvert and tripped over brush, but she steadied herself and scarcely checked her pace.
As long as she kept running, Clarence couldn't be dead. Deeper into the forest Sissy ran, as fast as she could, her fevered mind constantly telling her to run, keep running, if you stop running, Clarence will die.
Her legs felt as weak as straws blowing in the wind now, but she had to keep running. Don't stop, Sissy, whatever you do, DON'T STOP! she screamed inwardly. Her eyes were blurred with sweat and tears, and then—
Sissy felt herself falling. Instinctively, within those few seconds, she turned so that she would fall on her side, instead of falling on her stomach and risking the baby's life. A sharp stab of hot pain coursed through Sissy's right arm and she went limp.
A piece of paper fluttered out of her hand.
Clarence's letter. His last letter.
Despite the pain in her arm, Sissy managed to pull herself into a half-sitting position, and in the dim green light of the forest, she read:
My Dear Sissy:
As I write this letter, I think of you. I'm not very good at words, but I should have written sooner. I know the baby you are carrying is mine, and I am going to help both of you. I'm going to quit the Army and find one of the jobs that the white men had to leave behind. The pay would be better and my work would be needed more, what with men going left and right to fight the foreign war that seems imminent. By Christmas at most, Sissy, I'm coming home—and I'll be taking a ring to you, the prettiest one I can afford. So wait for me, Sissy, and tell Cassie now that she doesn't need to worry—I'm going to marry you before the baby comes.
With all my love: Clarence
All of this could not happen now.
Sissy tore the letter in half.
When she screamed Clarence's name, everything she had known was torn in half. Sissy sat there, stunned. There was only the baby left now. Clarence would never be there to hold and brag about and work for his little daughter or son. The child would never know his or her father.
"Clarence," she whispered brokenly.
"Sissy? Sissy?"
It was Cassie.
"Yes, Cassie?" Sissy called out weakly, as Cassie approached her side. The concerned young woman, sympathy in the very depths of her eyes, helped Sissy to stand up. Sissy stared blankly at Cassie.
"He's dead," Sissy whispered.
"I know," Cassie said. "But, Sissy, you have to be strong, for Clarence's sake. You have to be strong for his baby. Raise the baby to be just like Clarence—and just like you, and he or she will turn out just fine. Be strong, Sissy."
Sissy was finally able to stand on her own.
"Sometimes I'll need you to help me be strong, Cassie," Sissy said.
"Anytime," Cassie answered. Cassie noticed the two halves of the letter on the ground, picked them up and handed them to Sissy, who folded them carefully and tucked the papers in the sleeve on her uninjured arm.
Clarence was gone, Moe had fled to safety, and Harris had almost been hung. Jeremy Simms had been beaten and ostracized by his father because Jeremy had admitted letting Moe escape. America was on the brink of a great war and nobody knew where it would take place or when it would end. Everything seemed broken into little pieces.
But then…
Sissy felt the baby moving inside her for the first time, and she smiled. Her baby was alive, and she just had to pick up the pieces of the broken world and move on before the baby was born. That was what mattered, for then the baby would have a new, hopeful world in which to grow strong and proud and happy.
~FIN~