East of Orleans (47 page)

“Oh God!” said Isabella as she jumped to her feet. She looked at the clock—it was half past eight and she had been asleep for over two hours. Hastily, she splashed cold water on her face, fumbled with her petticoat and put on a dark green taffeta dress that Jules had bought for her in
New Orleans
. She thought angrily of both Jules and Tom leaving her alone at the courthouse. She brushed her hair so hard that she yanked it painfully and threw down the brush. She swung around on her heels, twisted her long hair up on her head securing it with a hair clasp and was as excited as a schoolgirl with a new beau. Isabella opened an enameled box on her dresser and took out the garnet earrings that Tom had given her and put them on. She sprinkled perfumed toilet water across her bosom and walked to the front door.

“Where you going dressed like dat?” asked Priscilla asked as she rushed up to her.

“Can’t you find something to do with your time rather than watching me? Besides, you’re not my mother.”

“Somebody shure need be your mother,” said Priscilla, reaching for Isabella’s hand.

Isabella jerked away. “I’m going to a garden club meeting.”

“Dressed like dat? Besides when’d you join a garden club?” Priscilla said with a sly grin.

“It ain’t none of your business when I done this or when I done that,” said Isabella. “I’ll be gone for a few hours and then I may go and see Jacqueline.”

“I don’t believe dat’s all where you going, you ain’t foolin’ me none. Ise reckon everybody in dis place done lost their mind,” said Priscilla.

Isabella picked up her skirts and walked past Priscilla and out the door.

By the time, she arrived at the DeSoto, she was concerned about how she looked. Once inside the hotel lobby she ran up to a gold gilted mirror to get a glimpse of herself. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Then she thought about how she had come about owning the dress and her smile faded. When Elora was older, she would tell her to be careful about accepting gifts from a man, any man, even your husband, because there was always an agenda behind them---and Isabella knew very well that no man gave a woman anything without expecting something in return; there was always a price to be paid. In a lot of ways men were all the same, but on the other hand, Isabella had learned that if a woman could use the man in some clever way, even one she was in love with, to benefit her in some way, then of course, that was what a smart woman did. Isabella looked up and saw the reflection of Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker staring at her in the mirror. Oh, what gossips they are, she thought. There was a flower show at the hotel and Isabella guessed that was what those two old biddies were doing there.

Isabella rushed up the winding staircase of the hotel, looking back, hoping that the two gossips were not watching her every move. She passed a woman on the stairs that had the blondest hair Isabella had ever seen. She reminded Isabella of one of those “bad women” who had testified against Jacqueline; one of Mae Patterson’s girls. Isabella wondered what men paid women like that to do and how much money they gave them? She had never known of any men who visited such women; except of course, her husband, who was in fact, a vile, ruthless man. One day, she vowed, she would give Jules McGinnis a taste of his own medicine, but for now she had no say, no control over her own life; her fate was in his hands. Or was it…?

“Come in,” he said.

Isabella came into the room and sat down in the rose, velvet slipper chair.

“Isabella, I see no need to discuss it. You think that Jules loves you, what does he love you for, Bella? He bought you. Just like he bought Jacqueline Rousseau. The only difference is you drove a harder bargain and he had to marry you. But he did, that was your price and now he thinks he owns you. Bella, he would not even know that you exist if you weren’t beautiful. Has none of this occurred to you? He knew you were desperate.”

“It wouldn’t take a mind reader, Tom to know that I was desperate. But I don’t believe that Jules doesn’t love me in some strange way.”

“Well, that’s it. Until you can understand the truth of what has happened to you and you’re ready to accept it, then there can be nothing more between us.” Tom said, looking over her.

Isabella could not believe Tom’s words. The thing that was most precious to her was disappearing before her eyes. Just yesterday, Tom was vowing that he would not leave without her and now, she was not sure that he even loved her anymore. She had never seen Tom like this before. “Tom, do you love me?” asked Isabella.

The shutters were pounding against the window. A storm was moving in across the river. Tom got up, went over and looked out the shutters.

“You don’t, you don’t love me anymore, do you?” Isabella asked in a tiny voice.

“I—I don’t know how I feel anymore,” said Tom.

“That’s why you left the court today without even speaking to me, isn’t it? Were you going to leave town and never even say goodbye?” Isabella cried. There was an expression on Tom’s face that she had never seen before. She felt scared and helpless. Isabella thought she’d rather be dead than return home to Jules with no hope of ever having a life with Tom. Tom was so indifferent to her now; she had to find a way to break through his icy exterior. Men had so much pride, that’s it, she thought, it was his pride.

“I heard you were pregnant.” Suddenly there was a silence between them. Then Isabella looked up. “How did you know?”

“You think there’s secrets in this town? If you do, then you’re badly mistaken and if there was, now, with this trial going on, there sure are no more secrets,” said Tom.

Tom stared at her and Isabella felt uncomfortable. He walked over and took a bottle of whiskey out of his suitcase. He held it up and said, “There may be enough in this bottle for two, if you’re interested.”

“Pour,” she said.

Priscilla was sitting peaceful on the back porch stringing green beans when Jesse approached her. He shook his head, “You the workingest woman I ever seen.”

“It’s better than picking cotton,” said Priscilla as she looked up and caught Jesse starring at her. “You wanna sit down?”

“I suppose,” he said as he pulled up a chair. “Where’s Isabella?”

“She gone.”

“I figured dat. Where?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” said Priscilla aggravated by the topic. “She gone out. Don’t ask me where. I’se don’t know a thing.”

Jesse’s eyes probed hers.

“Der suppose to be storms tonight. You want my opinion?” she said.

Jesse’s gaze sharpened. “About what?”

“You know ‘bout what. Mr. Jules is a hard man; hardest one I’se ever see. He lived a full life and he knows when a woman’s up to something. Why Isabella might as well dance naked in the front yard. She ain’t fooling nobody; especially Mr. Jules. She got a fine home here and a good life. She bout to mess it all up.”

Jesse got up and jumped off the porch. “I think I’ll go check on the horses.”

“I wouldn’t wait up,” said Priscilla in a sarcastic voice.

Yellow beams from gaslamps lit up Jules way on his walk to the shipyard. He pulled his pocket watch from his trouser pocket to check the time. He was late, very late, but he knew his old friend would be there. Jules hurried past decaying houses in the dark, he tripped and stumbled on tabby holes in the road. The winds were up and the water was high. The dirt road was alive with roars of drunken seamen and barmaids who were stashed away with men for the night. Dim lights from Patrick’s saloon could be seen in the distance. Drunken sailors and women clawing for both money and love glared at Jules as he walked by. Jules looked up and down the street for the sea captain. He was to meet him at the end of the docks, but he was nowhere to be seen. Jules had not felt so heartsick since
Atlanta
had been burned. Finally, in the distance of the foggy, windy night Jules saw the old sea captain walking toward him.

“How in the hell are you, brother?” said Jules slapping the captain across the back.

The old captain smiled slightly. “You know this could be dangerous; not only for you and me, but more so for her.”

Jules nodded, lit a cigar and put it in his mouth.

“Everybody around here has their own thoughts about what happened to that boy,” said the captain.” I don’t blame you for wanting to get her out of here.”

“She ain’t a saint, but she ain’t no murderer,” said Jules.

“I don’t want to know any details. All I need to know is what time I pick her up, what port we’re sailing to and will there be someone there for her when we arrive? You know, I never thanked you for sending word where
Sherman
’s band of devils was camped years ago. Hell, Jules, had it not been for you, my little brother would have never made it,” the captain said. “He would have had a hole blown in him the size of a cannonball. Just like my older brother, Coley.” Rabbits and possums scurried across the road and smoke stacks could be seen floating above the water.

Jules gazed at the captain for a minute. “Are you prepared to take her tonight?”

The captain gave Jules a sober stare and said, “Tonight?” Foghorns could be heard in the distance.

Jules looked out across patches of white cotton amidst the swamps. He removed a crumpled white envelope from his vest pocket and placed it in the captain’s hand. “Here’s enough money for the trip, plenty of food, and your trouble. And trust me, she’s a hell of a lot of trouble, so I want you to be well compensated,” Jules smiled, then turned serious. “I want you to make sure that she is well taken care of.”

“When can you have her here?” asked the captain.

“I’ll have her here by two a.m.,” said Jules.

“What if you run into trouble?” asked the captain.

Jules was silent, and then he pulled a pistol out of his coat pocket.

The captain looked up at Jules with a quiet grin. “I’ll see you around two,” he said. Jules slapped the captain across the back, turned and walked away.

Fierce winds slammed the shutters against Tom’s hotel windows. “A storm is moving in across the river,” said Tom.

Isabella lowered her gaze, hoping that Tom would kiss her, but he did not.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked.