A Lasting Impression
her posture—“returned to homes that had been burned to the ground and to lives that had been torn asunder.”
He clenched his eyes tight. “ Please hear me in this, Mrs. Acklen. I do not judge you. That’s not what this is about. But I firmly believe that the district court’s decision in favor of Mr. Walker is an indictment of your choices and of the fortune you amassed during that time.”
Adelicia continued to stare out the open window, her shoulders rigid. And Sutton waited, the clock ticking, slicing off the seconds.
She turned back to him. “Mr. Walker will never get one penny more than the five hundred dollars he’s already received, and that he first agreed to.”
Sutton offered a conceding look. “That’s precisely what I thought you would say. So I’ve already begun drafting an appeal to the Supreme Court of Louisiana. It could take months for their review and a final verdict, but I trust that if personal biases influenced the decision at the district level, those biases will be corrected in the Supreme Court’s final ruling.”
She nodded. “Very good, Mr. Monroe. Very good. I appreciate your due diligence, as always.”
“You’re most welcome, ma’am.” He sighed. “Now, if there’s nothing further, I believe I’ll call it a day. Good night, Mrs. Acklen.” He bowed briefly, then turned to leave.
“One more thing, Mr. Monroe.”
Accustomed to her “one more things,” Sutton turned back.
“Have you received word from the review board yet? As to whether they’ve rendered their verdict?”
The very mention of the review board dredged up a pile of emotions and regrets he was loath to deal with at the moment. “No, ma’am. Nothing yet. I’ll be sure and let you know.” He turned to go.
“Praying your forbearance, Mr. Monroe, but . . . I have one more question.”
Swallowing a sigh, Sutton turned back again, and could tell by her expression that she knew he was finished with their conversation. But she wasn’t.
Yet she seemed unable to sustain his gaze. “In order that sleep may eventually find me when I rest my head on my pillow tonight . . .” Her tone took on a fragile quality, and her manner grew tentative. “When thinking of your father, God rest his soul, and of what the government is seeking to do now—trying to take your family’s land, your inheritance—has there ever been a moment, even in the briefest sense, when you’ve contrasted your circumstance to my own, and . . .” She briefly looked away. “Have you ever thought less of me for the choices I made, and for how those choices unfolded?”
The question caught him off guard. That she cared what he thought and feared he might be holding something against her personally brought a burning to his eyes.
He confined his gaze to the carpet. “As I understand it, you’re asking me whether, when I ride up the road to Belmont and see this magnificent estate, I experience a sense of begrudging toward you because you didn’t lose your home in the war . . . and if—when faced with the loss of my own wealth—I feel a sense of jealousy that your fortune, already immense at the time, was made even more so as a result of your choice to fight to protect your own interests during the war.”
He finally looked up. “Have I correctly interpreted your question, ma’am?”
He could hear her breathing from across the room.
“Yes, Mr. Monroe. You have indeed. And with your usual thoroughness.”
He took a step toward her, seeing sincerity glistening in her eyes. “I would be lying to you if I said those questions have never assailed me. They have,” he whispered, “and still do, on occasion.”
He swallowed, feeling the solid thud of his heart in his throat. “However, I don’t judge you for your choices, or their outcome. You believed God was directing you to go to Louisiana. I watched you maneuver that cotton past the Confederate Army using Union wagons and mules.” He felt the faintest hint of a smile, and saw the same in her. “But you weren’t just saving your cotton that night, ma’am. You were protecting your late husbands’ legacies, as well as the financial futures of your children.
“As for me . . .” He sighed. “I also live with the outcome of my choices, however less favorable. I refused to sign the Oath of Allegiance and took up arms against the Union. My father . . .” The burning in his eyes intensified. “My father was willing to sign the oath to keep the peace, to sow the
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