East of Orleans (15 page)

Isabella awoke the next morning to the sound of street hawkers outside her window. She realized that she had slept the entire day and into the night without waking. A clicking of shoes approached her door. There was a hard tap on the door. Isabella leapt off the bed and opened the door. There stood Nell and a grim-faced woman who was about the same age as Isabella’s mama. The woman’s small dark eyes were cold and lifeless. Her wiry steel gray hair mingled with dark strands that fell loose in places from a tight braid. Her face was stern with sharp cheekbones. Isabella noticed that that the woman had large ears and a narrow nose.

“You’re Isabella McCoy?” The woman lowered her eyes and looked at Isabella. “Your eyes are swollen. You must have cried all night.” Isabella looked up from downcast eyes. Her eyes started to fill with tears.

“Ain’t no sense in that. Dry up those tears. You’re a woman now and it’s time you act like one.” The woman leaned closer to Isabella. “I see Mary McCoy in you, that one was stubborn as a mule. I imagine you’ve figured out that I’m Lettie McGillivrary.”

“Yes, ma’am, I reckoned as much.”

“I hope you don’t have any foolish notions about laying up on us here?”

“No, no, ma’am, I don’t.”

“That’s good. Cause if you do, you might as well get them plum out of your mind. We work hard here. We ain’t no lazy bunch. If we had of been, we would have never survived yellow fever, tornados, Sherman and his Yankees.” Lettie circled the room and then stopped. She placed her hands on her hips and then looked at Isabella. “What you got that nigger with you for?”

“My granny sent him.”

“What did she do that for?”

Isabella flashed her eyes at Lettie, “Cause she don’t think that I have enough sense to look after myself.”

“Is he the daddy of your baby?” Isabella turned and lunged at Lettie.

“No, he ain’t the daddy and don’t you call him a nigger no more!”

Lettie curled her bottom lip and smirked. “You’re a McCoy all right. It’s a shame if you’re carrying some half-breed baby.” Isabella ran and picked up her bag and headed for the door. “Foolish and quick tempered; no doubt you’re a McCoy. Put your bag down, you ain’t going nowhere; there ain’t nowhere for you to go.” Isabella walked over and sat in the middle of the bed. She crossed her legs up under her. Lettie stared at her and said, “The chores start early here. You’ll be up before dawn. The saloon is to be scrubbed every morning with hot soap and water. You’ll boil the water over the hearth in the kitchen.” Lettie gave Isabella a long stare. “And don’t get any ideas about doing a sloppy job. The wood on the bar and chairs is to be polished twice a week with linseed oil-- the bar has to shine. Are you listening?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Lettie folded her arms and paced the room; she shot Isabella a quick glance. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I do expect you to work and work hard. The globes on the lights will be taken off and washed once a week.” She paused. “I’d better never catch you trying to wash the globes without taking them down.” Lettie looked away. “If you can’t reach them, then I suppose Charlie or Jesse can lend you a hand. That is, if you can keep that nig,uh, boy quiet long enough.”

Nell entered the room. Her eyes locked with Lettie’s. “There ain’t no point in your bothering Red. He has enough to keep him busy. When those Yankees piled in here after the war, they drug one no good carpetbagger after another, and then us real Savannahians had to pull the weight of us all.” Lettie gazed at Isabella with a curious eye. “You reckon that child’s father will ever come for you?”

“No, that ain’t never gonna happen,” Isabella said, lowering her eyes.

Lettie shook her head with turned down lips. “It would be the respectable thing.” She took a step closer to Isabella and narrowed her eyes. “It ain’t no half-breed baby, is it? Ain’t nothing worse.” Nell looked at Isabella with a tender expression and then shot Lettie a hard look.

“I told you no!” said Isabella. Nell shook her head and smiled at Isabella. Lettie shrugged her shoulders and continued to pace. “As I said, no need for you to bother Red. He’ll take time off from the plantation house twice a week and come over here to relieve Charlie. I’ll tell you now, Red’s a talker; don’t talk to him ‘cause if you do, you’ll just be hindering him. You’re better off minding your own business and tending to your chores.” Lettie looked at Nell for a long moment. “Ain’t that right, Nellie? Nell knows we’ve had to keep some of the girls in line.” Lettie placed her hand on her hip and stared at Nell, then took a paper fan out of her apron pocket and fanned herself. She looked at Isabella. “Don’t distract the men folks. Let them do their work and you do yours. If an old sea captain pays you a little attention, be nice to him. That ain’t gonna hurt a thing.” Nell rolled her eyes. Lettie continued with a demanding tone. “It will be your job to make sure that the linens are kept clean. The windows are very important. I have the cleanest windows on Riverstreet. I never want to walk past our windows and see that they do not sparkle. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Isabella said in a low voice.

“Child, I did not hear you. When I ask you a question, you respect me, you hear? Don’t you get smart or you’ll find yourself on the street.” Lettie crossed the room and pointed her finger in Isabella’s face. “You understand what I’m telling you?”

“ I do understand,” Isabella said as tears filled her eyes. Lettie turned and left the room.

“You poor thing,” Nell said her voice sympathetic. Nell removed a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Isabella. She leaned across the bed and patted Isabella’s cheek. “She’s mad.”

“What do you mean?” Isabella asked. Nell walked over to the window and tossed her head back. She pushed limp curls away from her face. She leaned against the sill and stared out the window. The breeze from the
Savannah River
blew her red hair away from her face. “Is she crazy?” Isabella whispered.

Nell raised her chin and turned to face Isabella. “Yes, Lettie is as crazy as crazy can be, and don’t you ever forget that.” Nell glanced away. Then back at Isabella. “The day’s a-wastin.’ How ‘bout you get up, get yourself dressed, we’ll go downstairs and meet Charlie. You’ll like him, he’s a good fellow.” Nell smiled, and her eyes twinkled. “But stay away from Red. He can fool you. Sometimes he seems like a good fellow, but let me warn you, there ain’t a thing good about Red. He does not lend anyone a hand unless he’s getting a lot more than he’s giving.”

“Didn’t Lettie say that he only comes in here about twice a week?”

“Yeah, that’s what she says.” Nell held a steady gaze on Isabella. “A pretty young thing like you, you can bet Red will be here more than twice a week. In the mornings, he ain’t too bad. He still has a hangover. He’ll walk around not saying much and he’ll have Charlie fix him a couple of pots of black coffee. From four o’clock on, you have to watch him. He starts to drink and that’s when he goes wild.”

“I’ll give you a minute to dress. I brought you a tray of breakfast and I sat it outside your door. I’ll bring it in. I hope you like poached eggs and grits.”

“I’m starved. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in an hour.” Nell tilted her head and smiled.

When she had brought the tray of food to Isabella and then left, Isabella stared at the eggs and grits, started to eat, and let her tears fall to the food.

A loud ruckus entered the saloon. Isabella’s eyes grew big.

Charlie looked over his shoulder and said, “Red’s done talked them boys’ into sipping a little of his apple brandy.” He shook his head and laughed.

Jesse stepped out of the kitchen, opened the barroom door and leaned halfway in. “They out there all right, Mister Charlie, they shure enough is.” Jesse paused and listened; he heard a familiar tune. “Mister Red and them Yankee fellows are intoxicated and singing
Swing Low Sweet Chariot
.”

“Yankee fellows, how do you know?” asked Charlie.

Jesse raised his brows and said, “Cause they ain’t no Rebel boys act like that after a little bit of apple brandy.”

“Afternoon!” A bearded, burly, red-haired man shouted. He caught Isabella’s eyes as he burst through the swinging wooden doors. Jesse leaned into Isabella, assuring her that she would be fine. Isabella stood still. She observed the large man’s pants down around his hips. He walked bow-legged and when the light from the gas chandelier shadowed his face, she realized that his teeth were rotten and black.

“He looks like a leprechaun,” Isabella whispered to Jesse.

“Leprechauns got rotten teeth like that?” asked Jesse.

“Will somebody at least say something?” Red yelled. “You all look as dismal as the Captain of the Pulaski, right before it sank! This is an Irish saloon, not a damn funeral parlor!” He scratched under his arm like an ape.

“Oh, my god!” Whispered Isabella.

“What---what you see?” Asked Jesse.

“His eye, it’s gone. He’s only got one eye,” whispered Isabella.

“He shure do got one eye. Wonder what happened? He looks like a pirate.”

Isabella and Jesse glanced at each other.

Charlie poured Red a cup of coffee and sat it on the bar. Red’s stubby fingers moved anxiously around the cup while his hand shook. He slurped down the black coffee and lifted his eyes to Isabella and Jesse.

“Who’s the girl? She resembles a church woman.” Red’s eyes moved down Isabella’s body. Charlie bent down, removed a worn gray cap from under the bar, and put it on his head. Red smiled and glanced at Charlie.

The muscles in Charlie’s arms grew tight; he curled his bottom lip and smiled. “We lost that war, remember? You plan on whipping some Yankee ass this afternoon?”

“Hell, ain’t somebody gonna introduce me to the girl?” Red asked.

“This is Isabella McCoy, Lettie’s cousin,” said Charlie.

“Ah, the lass from north
Georgia
.” Red’s eyes shifted to Jesse. “She bring her colored boy with her?” Charlie raised his eyes from drying a bar glass and smirked. Red’s eyes roved to Jesse. “Where’s he sleeping?”

“He’s bunked in the storage room off the kitchen,” said Charlie.

Red thumped his fingers on top of the bar; his head came up. “Let’s drink to the lass from
North Georgia
!” Red said as he circled the bar. “Beer for everyone!” Charlie began to fill beer mugs and slide them across the bar.

Isabella felt a warm hand on her arm. “C’mon sugar, let’s go out onto Riverstreet and get away from Red and his ale. Are you okay?” asked Nell.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m fine.”

At that point the music started. Red sat down at the piano and began to play an Irish tune. Dozens of men seemed to pile into the tavern; Red slurped his ale and continued to play. Isabella’s eyes searched for Jesse as she was going out the door. Jesse had a broom in his hand and nodded for her to go on.

As Nell led Isabella down the narrow cobblestone street, hawkers, children and dogs seemed to wedge in between them. People passed in steady streams. Nell pulled Isabella so fast that she felt rammed up against a rock wall. Finally, Nell lowered her hand. She leaned into Isabella and said, “The shop we are about to visit is Mrs. Kate O’Brien’s bakery. Mrs. Kate and her family have been here in
Savannah
for as long as I can remember. Like everybody in this town, Kate has a story. Her father raised her. Seems that her mother ran off with some sea captain and she never came back.”

Isabella was intensely curious about everything. She hopped and ran beside Nell slowing long enough to peek inside one open shop door after another.

Nell looked off to the side at the river and then back to Isabella again. “They say that when Kate’s father died of yellow fever that it just about killed her. However, most everyone around here at one time or another has seen Kate down here on the riverfront; standing, staring, far into the distance. It’s rumored that she’s hoping that her mother is somewhere out there.” Nell moved to one side of the tabby walk, allowing a Negro woman with an arm full of baskets to pass.

“That’s sad. Do you think that her mother will ever come back?”