East of Orleans (12 page)

“I’ve sent her an invitation by letter and requested that she come for tea. I tell you she is ungracious and negligent in the most common of ways,” said Annalee Hancock to Lucy Baker. The two were in the Hancock garden where they were snipping some of her prize roses and putting them in a large gardening basket.

“Annalee dear, you speak the truth. Just yesterday, I approached her house and tapped on the front door. I stood there for what seemed an eternity before a young Negro woman came and slammed the door.”

“For heaven’s sake, Lucy, what did you do?”

“Well, I stood there for a moment and I knocked again.”

“And then?”

“Then I looked inside the door.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw her.”

“What did she look like?”

“You’ve seen her; haven’t you seen her in
Forsyth
Park
? She prances herself around there in the mornings and often in the late afternoon.”

“Yes, well, of course, I believe everyone in
Savannah
has seen her. But what I want to know is what did she look like close up. Is she as beautiful as I have heard?”

“She’s beautiful. There is no doubt about that, but Annalee, I hear that she uses her beauty for personal gain.”

Annalee Hancock stopped clipping roses and turned to Lucy Baker. “I’m relieved that I am not alone in that assumption.” She brushed off her apron. “Do you know what she does with herself all day?”

“No, and I don’t think that she’s a member of any of the women’s charities. I bet she just sits there and reads simple novels all day. What few times I have seen her, she always had on one of those fancy low-cut silk taffeta dresses. You know the ones that are not proper for the day hours. I will tell you this.” Lucy’s eyes twinkled. “I sent Sookie over there with a note. I invited her to visit. Of course, she never replied. That alone is an obvious marker to what type of family she comes from.”

“You’re right, Lucy, it is. What did Sookie say?”

Lucy Baker wiped the sweat off her neck. “I don’t welcome the heat,” she said as she looked up at the noonday sun.

“Well, you know Sookie, she means well, but she tends to get so excited over the least little thing. Anyway, she said that she had never seen jewels like that before. She said that woman was covered from head to toe in sparkling rubies and emeralds.”

Annalee Hancocks eyes widened. “Do you think they’re ancestral jewels?”

Lucy Baker’s expression changed. “I had that thought, but I don’t think so. I asked
Milford
what he thought and he waved an impatient hand and walked out the door. You know how men are.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you know who the gentleman is that resides with her? Is he her husband; surely he must be?”

“I don’t know, but he must have confidence in her, because he seems to travel all the time.” Lucy Baker smiled at her friend who nodded.

“I will call on her again next week, see if I can tempt her to visit.”

“How are you going to tempt her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can get Sookie to chase her cat down the street. It sleeps out on the swing on her side porch sometimes; I’ve seen it.”

“Or maybe we can watch for her to leave and slip inside.”

“Couldn’t she have us arrested?”

“For what? We’ll bring arrangements of flowers from our gardens, carry them to her and if she does not answer, we’ll push past her maid and walk through the house in search of a perfect place to put the flowers.”

Mrs. Hancock angled her head and smiled. “That’s clever.”

For the next several days, Jacqueline received numerous inquiries and invitations. She ignored each one without a reply. She came and went as always, exchanging silent glances, not even a kind word or gesture extended to her neighbors.

That night, Jacqueline sat in her library and wrote in her journal. She heard the clip-clop of horses’ hooves. She put down her journal and went upstairs to her bedroom. A candelabrum flickered as she entered. She opened double French doors and walked out onto the balcony overlooking the busiest street in town.

Across the street, in
Forsyth
Park
, hidden by two
Savannah
oaks, were Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker. The two women had escaped their husbands and with the help of a modest accommodation brought by Annalee, a pair of opera glasses was shared to observe Jacqueline’s every move.

“What do you see?” Lucy asked.

“She’s looking out the shutters,” Annalee whispered.

“Do you think she can see us?” Lucy said nervously.

“Don’t be silly, of course not. Did I tell you that Kate O’Brien saw her at the cathedral? She does not even take communion.”

“I wonder why.”

“I suppose she is not repentant of her sins.”

“She must be hiding something.”

“That’s what I think,” Annalee said with a firm nod.

“Maybe she has family secrets. What’s she doing now?”

“She looks like a prisoner in a cell looking out that window.”

Annalee passed the opera glasses to Lucy. The gas streetlights came on, suddenly illuminating the two snoops and the couples that had left their homes for a brisk, twilight walk.

“I think it is vulgar to display your wealth in such a showy, tasteless manner,” said Lucy.

“Look! He’s there, don’t you see?” Annalee was excited.

“I don’t see anything.”

“It’s him, the gentleman, he’s come home.”

“Here, let me see those glasses,” whispered Lucy.

“All right, just a minute.” Annalee peered through the opera glasses. “He’s entered the house and she’s coming down the stairs. He kissed her. I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“Their conduct is shocking.” Annalee lowered the glasses and handed them to her friend.

Lucy put the opera glasses to her eyes. “He took something from his pocket. He has a small box. She opened it. I think he gave her a ring. She took it out and has placed it on her finger.”

“I bet it cost him plenty of money.”

“I’ve heard that he’s worth millions.”

“He’d have to be, look at that house.”

The two ladies then turned gracefully and retreated behind the iron gates of their houses. They exchanged good evenings and smiled. It was an amicable parting of old friends with a newfound, mutual interest.

“What did you say?” said her mother.

“I’m going to have a baby!”

Her mother stared at her hard. Her chin rose up; her eyes searched Isabella’s face.

“That can’t be right; you don’t know what you’re saying. We’ve never discussed these things.”

Isabella saw the haunted expression on her mama’s face, and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Discussing these things, Mama, ain’t going to stop it from happening! I ain’t bled in two months.”

Cool air blew in from the outside. Leaves of burgundy and gold skittered across the front porch. The sky was growing dark. Rain was on the horizon. Lila grabbed her shawl and pulled it tight around her shoulders. She slumped against a chair and then sat down.

A shadow appeared on the front porch. It was Granny returning home. Livie and Henry had come to see how the cotton was coming along and Granny had taken little Henry down to the river to see the loggerhead turtle. Isabella and her mother sat in silence as they heard Granny saying goodbye to Livie and Henry. When Granny entered the cabin, from the corner of her eye, she saw Lila bent forward in a chair, holding her shawl around her with one hand and holding her head in the other.

One glance at Isabella’s pale face sent a jolt through Granny. She knew that something was wrong, bad wrong. “What’s the matter with the two of you?” Lila lowered her eyes to her lap and then her head came up. She gave Isabella a sidelong glance. “You want to tell her or you want me to?”

“It’s my disgrace, not yours!” cried Isabella. She got up, took Granny’s hand and led her to the kitchen where she sat her down at the long pine table. Isabella sat next to her. “Granny, you know I’ve been sick.” Granny studied Isabella’s face.

“Go on, child.” Granny whispered, placing her hand on Isabella’s lap.

Isabella turned to look at a shadow coming around the corner; it was Freckles. He jumped up on the table. “Freckles, shoo, get off the table!” Isabella said. She felt nauseous. She jumped up and ran to the back door, She opened the door hung her head out and vomited. Isabella moved away from the door and crouched down against the outside of the house. She spat on the ground. She put her head between her legs and started to rock. She felt Granny’s hand on her shoulder. She looked up and then closed her eyes. She wished she could disappear. No, she wished what was growing inside her would disappear. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“Well, child, do you think you’re the first one? You know, that’s how I got you.”

“But, it wasn’t that way, Granny!” She felt a warm hand on her arm.

“Oh, and what way was that? Is there some new way that I don’t know about?”

Isabella smiled a slight smile and then tucked her dress tight between her legs.

“Look at me,” Granny said.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

Isabella got up with angry eyes and swung around. “I am changed, I ain’t the same anymore. My innocence is gone! And, and just like daddy, it ain’t never coming back! I am ruined! There ain’t nobody going to ever want me!” She turned her face away and started to cry. Granny put her frail arms around Isabella and held her tight.

“Your daddy is gone and, you’re right, he ain’t coming back. But, child, listen to me. What seems bad today can get better tomorrow. You have life, the greatest gift of all and with life, there is always hope. Someday you will know what your old wrinkled Granny meant.”

“I don’t want this baby. Granny, please make it go away. I don’t want to have a baby!”

“Of course, you don’t want to have a baby. You ain’t nothing but a baby yourself, but all of that will change. You remember what I say. Have I ever told you wrong?”

“No.”

“And I ain’t wrong this time.” Granny paused. “Tom Slaughter will make a fine daddy.”

Isabella slowly raised her eyes and looked at Granny with a cold face. “This baby ain’t Tom’s.”

Granny narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Then who?”

Isabella’s face was blank. The truth was she was not sure
who
the baby belonged to. It had been two months since Jacob had raped her and a month since Tom had made love to her. She knew that her breasts had just gotten tender, but they always felt that way before she started her period. She would say nothing. If she told them about Jacob Hartwell raping her, then she knew that her mama and granny would lose the farm. Rollins Hartwell would toss them out so fast they would not even have a chance to sell the place. If she told them the baby belonged to Tom and then it didn’t, if it turned out to have those same brown eyes as the devil, then she would have ruined Tom’s life. No, she must not tell the truth. She must leave and go away.

“I ain’t saying, Granny. I ain’t saying, please, don’t ask me again. And don’t you go and say a word about this to Tom. You hear? You leave that to me. If you have any ideas about talking to him, you’d better get that thought right out of your mind.”

“I reckon, but child, I will tell you; this won’t last forever. Tom’s going to ask questions. He’s stubborn as a mule. I won’t tell him anything. ‘Course, what about Jesse? He’s got eyes and ears. He’s seen you sick and vomiting. This ain’t gonna be easy.”

Isabella stared into the distance. “Jesse ain’t gonna say a word. He knows what it’s like to be ruined and desperate for a place to go.”

Isabella pulled her dress out from between her legs and looked out at the marigolds swaying in the wind. Granny exhaled and said, “We’ll figure this out. The three of us will talk about it. This ain’t something that I need to get my gun out and use, is it?”