A Burden of Shadows

By Thomas Lipscomb

Sarah Jacobson, uniquely gifted and free-thinking even from childhood, comes of age amid the destruction and social upheaval of the Civil War and Reconstruction. Sarah endures unfathomable sorrow and loss, inner conflict in learning to master her gift, and the unrelenting persecution of Lillian Brandt, the very personification of evil.
Sarah shares her family's progressive political and spiritual convictions, which have caused their virtual exile within their own community. She refuses to be relegated to the traditional Victorian roles afforded women of her era. Sarah's strength of spirit, along with the wisdom and counsel of her beloved grandfather empower her as she strives to master her shadow nature and fulfill her destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312714724

Book preview

A Burden of Shadows

A Burden of Shadows

Part 1 April, 1861

Chapter 1

My word! What are they doing?, Sarah wondered. The man and woman were embracing in the middle of the forest. The man was tall and lean with dark eyes, the woman flawless with raven hair falling to the middle of her back. There was something familiar about them both, especially the woman.

Beside them a rifle was leaned against a tree trunk. The woman was on her toes with her arms around the man’s neck. The man’s hands moved to the woman’s bottom and he began to rub and squeeze. Their mouths were locked together. Why I have never seen people kissing like that, Sarah thought.

Suddenly the woman pushed the man away, her face crimson. She seemed ashamed yet excited, confused by her own actions. Sarah saw that the woman wore the same gold locket as she, just like the one her grandfather had given her for her sixth birthday the year before.

The man and woman both took a step back, but after a few seconds of awkward silence the woman came to the man again. She moved as if an unseen force that could not be resisted was drawing her to him. Again their mouths met and they embraced. Finally she withdrew from the man’s embrace and turned away. A look of both perplexity and shame came upon her face. Sarah could have sworn the woman’s eyes were fixed upon her. 

Sarah had spied her mother and father kissing once in the kitchen when they thought no one was around and the door was ajar. Her grandparents were deeply affectionate and she had often witnessed them embracing and kissing with no shame. But this that she had witnessed was altogether different, there was such urgency and desire.

Sarah awoke, bewildered by her dream. She considered it for a moment but drowsiness soon trumped her curiosity and she fell back asleep.

The next morning throughout breakfast she eyed her parents and grandparents quizzically, considering the possibility that they participated in similar behavior to her dream characters when they were in private. Perhaps all couples do, she finally surmised.

Chapter 2

Sarah ambled through the field of rye, carefully holding a buttered biscuit wrapped in a rag. She had removed the silk bonnet her mother had dotingly placed on her head earlier and left it wadded in a crevice at the well as she left the house. I am seven years old, she thought as she shook her head and let her hair fall as God intended, I can wear what I like.

Sarah hated the bonnet, all bonnets in fact. They evoked to her a dullness and subservience that her young spirit had already identified and rejected. Sarah often had difficulty keeping her shoes on as well.

Sam Jennings was expecting his granddaughter. He had been eyeing the route from the house to the field expectantly for half an hour. He checked his pocket watch for the third time and glanced up again in expectation. He smiled as he saw Sarah’s head bobbing towards him, partially visible above the seed heads of ripe grain, like a delightful little floating sphere, her body obscured by the stalks. Sarah’s puppy, a six month old black Labrador who had not yet grown into his feet, bounded about her rustling the rye.

Sarah had not yet spotted her grandfather. She kept her eyes on the ears of the large mule her grandfather was employing to plow the adjacent field.

When she was about thirty yards away she saw her grandfather and yelled, Papa Sam, it’s me and I have a surprise!

Sam waved and went to one knee, watching her leap the small culvert that separated the fields and continue towards him. Sam accepted the biscuit and put it in his pocket, freeing his hands to embrace his granddaughter.

Sarah was as covered in chaff as he was in dust. Had she taken the well- worn path she would likely have only dusted her shoes, but Sarah preferred the more direct route. Although she brought her grandfather a biscuit each day just before noon to convey her grandmother’s wishes that he come forthright to lunch, for Sam tended to tarry in the fields, each visit was a pleasant surprise.

Looks like you’ve lost your bonnet again Sarah, Sam said slyly as he stood. I hate those things Papa Sam, hated them yesterday, hate them today and I’ll hate them tomorrow. I wish there were none in the whole world, Sarah replied with impish indignation.

Well perhaps we should gather every one we can find and have us a big old bonnet burning, Sam continued, I never cared much for them myself either.

Grammy says come on home now while everything’s hot. She was setting the table when I left. Sam took the biscuit from his pocket and took a bite. Your grandmother is the best cook in the whole world, did you know that Sarah? In fact she is about as near to perfect as a woman can be.

I know that Papa Sam, and you are the best granddaddy that ever, ever was, so let’s us get back and eat. Sarah’s smile slowly vanished and her hands went to her hips as she finished her declaration and stood silent, in that subtle gesture common to all women and understood instinctively by all men. It was time to go.

I have just a bit more plowing to finish this row and I’ll be along my darling. Sam had a bit of an obsession about getting to a legitimate stopping point before leaving his work. His wife Abbie was well aware of this tendency in her husband and had employed Sarah to help break the stubborn habit. I’ll be on in just a minute.

Sarah walked back towards her grandfather and stood directly in front of him. She gestured with her index finger for him to stoop before her again. Sam complied and went to one knee before her. Grammy said you’d say that and this one is from her, she spoke as she kissed his cheek again. Sam smiled and acquiesced. I’ll be right back darling, let me take care of old Ned.

Sam returned to the plow, but only to unharness the mule and hobble him by the creek, a stone’s throw away in the woods. Sarah waited by the plow for a moment but then heard noise from the pond. She cocked her ear towards the source of the commotion and then started off to investigate.

As Sarah crossed the plowed field to the pond she thought of how much happier her life was since coming to live here. Her father’s people were so quiet and serious but her mother’s side were jolly and affectionate.  She had experienced more laughter, activity, visitors, and singing in the few months she had lived here than in all the time she stayed over at Rocky Branch. Everyone treated her like a princess, but Meshach and Alonzo were her favorites, and of course Papa Sam.

As Sarah crested the hill that descended to the pond she saw two people swimming at the far side under the overhanging willows. She ran a hundred yards further until she had no more wind, then doubled over with her hands on her knees. She panted a few times then stood straight. There were two naked boys swimming over there! Startled, she covered her mouth and moved closer still, finding a spot by a copse of young pines where she could remain unseen. Boys certainly were oddly formed, she thought, perhaps that’s why that acted so strange.

Sarah shielded her eyes from the sun and determined that the boys were her uncle Lonzie and his best friend Micah. The two had worked at breakneck speed to get their morning’s work finished so they could indulge themselves in a bit of recreation before lunch.

Though it was warm for April, the air was still quite cool for swimming. Micah and Alonzo seemed to have no regard for the temperature. They were splashing each other and roughhousing, roaring with laughter. Sarah wanted to go speak to them but for some reason she didn’t feel like she would be welcomed today, it seemed to be a moment just for the two of them. She felt ill at ease, intrusive. As she turned to start back home two hands gripped her shoulders. She heard a snicker and then felt a heavy breath upon her hair. She froze in fear as she saw the grimy fingers of a stranger on either side of her neck. His grip was strong and Sarah could not move.

Sarah looked up and over her shoulder and saw Garland Walters, a fat and smelly young man of about nineteen with crooked teeth. He was a stranger to her although Alonzo had attended school with him for a couple of years before the older Garland had quit attending. He turned toward the pond, forcing Sarah to turn with him. Alonzo and Micah appeared to be in an embrace.

I knowed they was both sissy boys, just look at ‘em,’ he yelled, pointing towards Alonzo and Micah. Hope you two love birds is having fun, I’m gonna tell everybody what I seen!," he taunted. Alonzo and Micah had retreated from the pond and were drying themselves. They heard Garland’s shouts and quickly covered themselves.

I knowed ya’ll was sweet on each other! Never seen one of you without the other. I’m gonna let everybody know it too, he continued in gleeful derision. He started singing, Lonzo and Micah sitting in a tree …, when Sarah raised her leg and drove her heel and forty-five pounds of mad into Skeeter’s shin. His grip loosened as he cursed and backed a step away. 

You’re just a foul-mouthed and wicked boy! I love my Uncle Lonzie and you better be nice to him! You better never say anything bad about him or you’ll be sorry, mark my words, you surely will!

Why you little bitch! I’ll teach you to sass me. Garland started back towards her, red-faced with his hand raised in a clenched fist. Sarah did not cower but stood her ground. Her gaze seemed to bore a hole through him.

Lay a hand on her and I’ll tear it off and throw it in the pond boy, Sam’s voice boomed out of nowhere. Garland sidled away a few yards and cowered.

I know who you are boy. You Walters are a bunch of thieves and scoundrels, the whole lot of you.  Everyone in the community knew that whenever a Walters was around something was sure to go missing. Now get on and don’t let me catch you on my property again or you’ll damn well be sorry.

Garland quickly put a few more feet between himself and Sam. The distance between them emboldened him and a smirk appeared on his face. He gestured with his finger as if he were about to speak, then opened his mouth but no words could find there way out. A look of terror came upon him and he suddenly turned and fled. He didn’t speak again for several months.

Guess the cat got his tongue, Sam said matter-of-factly. He then stooped in front of Sarah and looked intently into her eyes. Sarah you should always tell us where you’re going, we worry about our angel. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.  Sarah wrapped her arms around her grandfather and gave him a sweet, but patronizing look. I’m fine Papa Sam, I’m almost eight years old, I can take care of myself.

I know darling,’ Sam replied, you sure act like a grown-up but you are still a child, you don’t quite know everything yet, I’m sure by the time you’re ten you will."

Alonzo and Micah came sprinting over, dripping wet and half clothed. You boys get dressed and get on over to the house and dry out before you catch your death of the pneumonia, Sam spoke emphatically. Sam hoisted Sarah onto his shoulders and started for home, whistling the entire way. Sarah felt like the princess of the world.

Papa Sam, I had a strange dream last night, can we talk about it tonight when you come to tuck me in?, Sarah asked as they came to the house.

It’s your grandma’s turn to tuck you in tonight angel, but I’ll stop in after she leaves and goes to brush her hair, Sam replied with a kiss as he helped her to the ground.

Chapter 3

Exhausted from his toil, Sam Jennings sighed and sat atop the brick steps by the front entrance of his home, just outside the canopy of the porch. The sun had dipped just below the western horizon, relinquishing its authority to rapidly approaching twilight. Sam enjoyed sitting here on mild evenings to reflect on the events of the day, plan for the next, and thank God for his abundant blessings. Sam loved his home, his family, and his life with an all-consuming passion. These steps, each brick cast from the clay of this land by his grandfather’s hand, were the throne from which he reigned over his dominion.

A row of crepe myrtles, just beginning to show leaf, lined the north side by a dirt path that connected with the main road a quarter mile north. They would provide a profusion of lavender blooms from the first of July until well into September.. A massive magnolia, planted as a mere twig by Sam’s grandmother four decades earlier, anchored the opposite corner where the yard proper met a newly planted tobacco field.

A clipped hedge of boxwood bordered the bricked walkway that led to the formal entrance. The buds on the gardenia hedge, in response to an early spring, were just beginning to swell, and had not gone unnoticed to the sharp eye of the matriarch of the Jennings clan. Wrens, cardinals, and squirrels nested in the twin live oaks that shaded the house from its western exposure. The front lawn was lush and green after a winter’s rest.

Sam’s forty-seven year old arms ached from another eleven hour day behind a mule and plow. He would sleep well tonight, the tranquil sleep of an honest man fatigued from an honest days work. Sam was quite aware that he was no longer a young man. The soreness in his muscles did not subside as readily as when he was young and now sometimes seemed to penetrate to his very bones. Sam no longer sprang from bed at the first crowing of the rooster. He now required a nudge and a kiss from his wife before rising, but still he could outwork any man in the county.

Fortunately plowing and planting were almost complete, thanks to an early and dry spring. Work was always hard and steady on the Jennings plantation, but the intensity and urgency would abate for several weeks after the final acres of oats were sown.

Sam was grateful that tomorrow was Sunday. He would sleep in an extra hour and spend the morning on the sofa with his wife, reading Milton or perhaps Harper’s Weekly while she knitted. Late afternoon would make for excellent fishing, or better still a picnic with his beloved and Sarah. Aside from reshoeing Sarah’s pony, Sam had no intention of exerting himself on the Lord’s Day.

A supper of ham, cabbage, and buttered biscuits with molasses had fully sated Sam’s appetite. Still his trousers sagged a bit at the waist, as they always did in planting season. His suspenders compensated nicely. He loosened his bootlaces and unbuttoned the banded collar of a faded red shirt.

Sam stretched and gave a deep yawn, the kind that necessitates a deep, primal moaning upon ending. A wave of relaxation flowed through him. He retrieved a leather tobacco pouch that lay beside him and loosened the binding cord.  He took his pipe from his shirt pocket and began filling the chamber with the aromatic leaf.

Gently, deliberately, Sam tapped his pipe against a cement pedestal

that supported  the fluted columns of his home, stopping occasionally to take a sip of homemade peach brandy. Preparing a pipe smoke is a peculiar and specific process, Sam elevated it to the form of a sacred ritual. His eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled as he gave careful inspection to the chamber. After assessing that the leaf was indeed packed to perfection, he struck a wooden match against the steps and lit the tobacco, concluding the lengthy endeavor.

Sam drew on his pipe, closing his eyes to divest himself of all extraneous thought and savoring the flavor of the tobacco. A satisfied sigh accompanied his exhalation, and the hovering smoke gave form to a benevolent apparition.

An owl, larger than any Sam had ever seen, with a wingspan equal to his own height, drifted through the air a hundred yards away. The owl appeared to be following the path from the main road to his home, as if responding to an invitation for tea. The owl’s pale face, sinister eyes, and talons skilled at ripping apart flesh seemed to covey a demonic intent as it continued its stealthy approach. The owl veered as it neared the house, turning toward the porch and swooping within an arms length of Sam before disappearing. Sam felt a stirring of wind as the massive wings sliced through the humid evening air.

Given a bit to superstition, Sam felt an uneasiness in his spirit, as if he had been served an ill omen. The fine hairs of his neck stood at attention. He grunted and took another long draw on his pipe, purposing to set his mind on more pleasant thoughts. His mind instinctively drifted to his wife Abbie.   

A long bath earlier had washed away the grime of his day’s toil. Sam twisted and pulled at the whiskers on his chin, a habit he was unwittingly becoming more prone to, just as his father before him. Also like his father, Sam maintained a well-groomed beard, in a style befitting a banker or teacher, in contrast to the unkempt rat’s nests sported by most of his contemporaries who opted for facial hair. He had adopted this custom as a young man at the university. A splattering of gray was gradually supplanting the once uniformly golden tufts and the last remnants of Sam’s youth as well.

Sam Jennings had that peculiar type of presence that lesser men often aspire to, yet in their futile imitations render themselves only pathetic. Sam’s was a unique quality, authentic only in those few men destined from birth to rise above their peers and their circumstances; a bearing that transcended aspirations or stature, speech or attire, learning or lineage.

Sam could well have assumed the role of gentleman planter, but his nature would not allow it. He was a man of the earth, finding fulfillment in his physical