East of Orleans (52 page)

Jules came to see Juliette every time he got a chance. But because of his pain and the loneliness, he was drinking more and more. After Jacqueline’s death he was a changed man, but he could never ever talk about her again. There was never to be happiness in his life again. The thing he loved most he had lost. And he wasn’t able to bear it. He was forever changed.

As Jacqueline had requested, Isabella moved into the house on Oglethorpe and left Jules to his drink and his grief. He did not even try to reconcile with Isabella. In fact, he gave her everything that she wanted or needed—he was just indifferent to her and everything else in his life, except for Juliette. Every week he would take the baby with him to Bonaventure cemetery to visit the grave of her mother. He’d put flowers on the tombstone and whisper words that Juliette could not understand.

Life was complicated, but to Isabella, death seemed more so. Death to her was final and when there were no answers, it became like a puzzle that she had to try to explain. And explain was what she had to do when she looked through the window of Jules’s
Bay Street
warehouse and saw him lying on the floor.

Since Jacqueline’s death, Jules had spent the best part of six months trying to drink himself to death. He had finally succeeded. Isabella ran to get Jesse and when Jesse got back to the warehouse he kicked open the door. Isabella looked at Jules, lying dead on the cold floor. She could not speak—all she could do was stare as a flood of memories rushed through her. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but Isabella thought it ironic on this day for the first time in years, she had worn the rose velvet bonnet from
Paris
. She touched the bonnet and somehow it seemed to diminish the pain.

Isabella did not stay away from the cotton warehouse after Jules’s death. She had men she had to work and cotton she had to sell. She had, after all, inherited the business. She sold the house on
Monterrey
and never went there again. There were times she cursed Jules leaving her in such a mess, but she seldom had time to dwell on it. The lesson she had learned was hard and with most of the money now gone, she knew that it had not been worth it. If she could just hold on until she sold all the crops and the land over in Beaufort, she thought that she might go into the lumber business. Chances were slim, but she had put Jesse in charge of the cotton exports and she kept reminding herself that she would not lie down, and she would not give up. This time she would not run, she would stay and fight, no matter how tired she was.

Priscilla argued with Isabella that the children needed more discipline. Isabella listened to her and intended to do something about it, but when she came home from the warehouse and heard the children’s’ voices, it made her so happy that she forgot all that she had intended.

A couple of years passed and then one afternoon Isabella heard Silas talking with someone outside the house. Most likely, it was someone on business, perhaps interested in buying the warehouse in. Isabella walked out on the porch and saw a man crossing the yard. It was Tom. There was a harder look to his face; the look of a boy had disappeared, but when Isabella looked into his eyes, she could see herself running and teasing with him many years before. She had her suspicions about why he was there, but she wasn’t sure.

“I apologize for just showing up, but I was in the neighborhood.”

If Isabella had ever wondered what it was that she had loved about him she now remembered.

Tom cocked his head, toward the house and said, “Looks like this place could use some work.”

Isabella stood there for a minute, and then said, “I can take care of myself, Tom Slaughter.”

He just stood there, blinked and smiled with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. “I hear you’re trying to sell that land over in Beaufort. I may be able to get you a good price for it.”

Jesse walked out of the house and said, “We thinking about starting us a lumber business.”

“Yeah, I been thinking about that myself,” said Tom.

“What about your writing?” asked Isabella.

“Well, I kept waiting for the right story to come along and it never quite did.”

The evening sun had almost gone down, mosquitoes were biting, and Tom was about to turn and walk away when he said, “I want to take you home.”

Isabella breathed deep and then said, “I’ve thought about it. I’ve spent days going over books and records and I finally realized I could go. But then when I thought about it, what’s there for me?”

Tom paused. “You’ve Henry and Livie and your mama’s still alive.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes. “I ain’t like any of them anymore. I wish I could; I’ve always wanted to go back, but I ain’t the same girl that left there. I don’t know what became of her. And I promised Jacqueline.”

Tom turned and started to walk away. Isabella ran down the steps after him. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe I’d go fishing.”

“Do you care if I go?”

“I was thinking about that,” he said.

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know there used to be riverboat gamblers on this river?”

“Bella, there ain’t been no riverboats out here in years. You better come on, snakes are crawling and
Savannah
’s got some big ones.”

She followed him to the river like she had years before, and now understood that she was home.

Paris
,
France
 

Dear mama,

Juliette and I love
Paris
. Juliette says that she wants to stay here forever. I told her we have to go home. There’s a heap of fancy ladies here with big hats; even more than in
Savannah
. I know I promised you that I wouldn’t embarrass you and daddy and I have kept that promise, but I can’t say the same for Juliette. I don’t think she’s grateful for anything. You and daddy sending us to
Paris
after Juliette’s graduation (which we all thought would never happen) and she hasn’t even uttered as much as a thank you. And here we are among all these people that seem to know everything!

I am sorry, I don’t mean to say mean things about my sister. And to think that I was mad about you sending Jesse along to chaperone. Let me just say—that it’s a good thing he came. Yesterday he placed his arm on hers trying to get her to come along. She’d been flirting with artists all day in the park. She jerked away and told Jesse to mind his own business. So, that’s how things are going here. I will see you in one week. Provided Jesse and me can tear Juliette away.

Your loving daughter,

Elora Grace

Born to a poker playing pilot and a Berry College English scholarship awardee,
Renee' Stargel Irvin is no doubt her parents daughter.
Not quite one year old, busy playing amongst the pots & pans in the kitchen, Renee' Stargel Irvin's mother asked her what she was doing.

"Using my imagination, Mommy!" she replied.

And she has been ever since. "East of Orleans," her first published novel, was created through a mélange of memories brought to life, characters born out of imagination, and Renee's desire to write herself to another place, at another time.

There was no better place than where her grandmother grew up as a child, and her stories unfolded. That wonderful place was on the banks of the
Chattahoochee
River
, in a little community known as
Shakerag
,
Georgia
.
 

Like Renee's life itself--deep, rich, adventuresome, and sometimes dark, her debut novel "East of Orleans" is a "real" southern story, the kind that Renee' feels is best told by one of their own, a bona fide Southerner.

Renee' holds a degree in Legal Studies, and studied English & Communications at
Oglethorpe
University
. She also studied at the "Harriett Austin Creative Writing Conference," offered by the
University
of
Georgia
, and taught under the skilled eye of Dr. Charles Connor.

Renee' currently lives not far from Shakerag with her college-age twins, son Ryan, and her charismatic much-loved 12 year-old Pekingese, Pookie. She is currently hard at work on her next novel, and one thing is a certainty:

It will evolve around layered characters, mystery, romance, and life and death centered on the only stage Renee' knows as home, the deep South.