East of Orleans (35 page)

That evening Isabella did not have the energy to go to the dinner table. She knew the truth about the sharecroppers and now she wondered if she was glad. But she knew and she could not forget what she had found out. Those women were terrified and the children looked like starved scarecrows. She lay in her bed waiting for Jules to go to the warehouse to play poker, but he did not leave. Instead, he entered the bedroom and stared down at his wife in bewilderment. “You don’t feel like eating?”

“No.”

Isabella could no longer conceal her feelings. “Those women are scared to death of Hoyt; you can’t put them out of their houses.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Hell, they’ll tell you anything. You can’t listen to them niggers. I should have never taken you over there.”

“But you did, and don’t you even want to know what is happening?”

“Hell, that’s what I’ve got Hoyt for!”

Isabella jumped up off the bed and said, “Hoyt’s a lying pig!”

Jules grabbed Isabella by the shoulders and screamed, “Listen to me, you damn bitch! Who in the hell do you think you are?” Jules swung around and knocked a cranberry luster off the dresser and it shattered into pieces.

Jesse had come in through the kitchen door and heard Isabella scream. He started to run back to the bedroom when Priscilla grabbed him by the arm.

“Where do you think you going? It ain’t your duty to go for her every time she screams like a cat. Mister Jules is her husband and dey ain’t a thing you can do bout that. No matter what he do to dat woman it ain’t anything to you.” Priscilla wrinkled her brow and stared at Jesse. “You’d do good if you ne’er laid eyes on dat woman ever again. Now you hear me, I see de way you look at her. Are you crazy? It ain’t ne’er gonna be. It can’t be; not as long as your skin is black and hers is white, and for you to hope any different ain’t gonna do a thing, but get you hung.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s family to me, like a sister,” Jesse said defensively.

“Uhm, you tell dat to somebody dat believes you. I’se got eyes and dey ain’t lying.”

Jesse looked angrily down the hall, grabbed hold of the kitchen door and went outside.

“Youse better un-ruffle your feathers,” whispered Priscilla.

“Crawfish, gumbo and whiskey! For Christ sake, no wonder I’m as sick as a dog!” Her stomach grumbled and roared. “Ain’t there even a stick of cornbread in this house?” Isabella looked around the kitchen, found a biscuit and a piece of ham from breakfast. She sat down at the table, looked out the window and ate her ham and biscuit.

Priscilla walked into the kitchen and watched Isabella for a moment. “Youse got a fine life here. Why you want to make a ruckus all the time?”

“You don’t understand a thing do you?” Isabella said glancing up at Priscilla.

“How’s dat?”

“You’d be content to sit right here while the Yankees set this place on fire. In fact, you’d probably be feeding them gumbo.”

“The Yankees done come. What you talking ‘bout dat for?”

Isabella thought there wasn’t any need wasting time talking to Priscilla about something she had no understanding of. Besides, she had to hurry.

“Never mind,” said Isabella. “I’m going out.”

“Where you going? You ain’t got no business going out dis time of night, especially in your condition.”

“Mind your own business. If you had half sense of a goat, you’d want out of this place too! I want to go home, don’t you understand? And I aim to get there anyway I can. And not you nor Jules gonna stand in my way, do you understand me?” Isabella screamed.

She ran out onto the back porch just as Jesse walked up wearing a wide brim floppy hat. “Where you headed?”

Isabella stood, shaking. “You know where I’m headed and don’t try to stop me.”

“I can’t let you go over there alone.”

“Then you can go with me. I just want to see her and maybe talk to her. And I aim to go if I have to walk every step of the way.” Isabella looked into Jesse’s eyes.

Jesse pushed her tumbled hair away from her face and whispered, “Okay. I know where to go. Get ready. If she ain’t home or dere somebody over dere we comin’ right back.”

“Okay,” whispered Isabella.

Staring straight ahead at the cobblestone road lit by gas street lamps, Jesse said, “Dis could be dangerous. We ain’t messing with normal people. If I was you, I’d change my mind. Mister Jules days with dat woman are over.”

“I don’t care! Besides, how do you know? You don’t know a thing.”

“I know you fixin’ to get yourself in a bigger mess than you is already in, and now I’m right in de middle of dis one.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Jesse turned the horse slowly and headed toward Oglethorpe.

“You know anything ‘bout them shacks Jules has over in Beaufort?” asked Isabella.

“Nuthin’ I care to talk ‘bout,” said Jesse, never taking his eyes from the road.

As they neared
Forsyth
Park
the moss on the trees hung thicker, a canopy of large oaks ushered them in. Isabella touched Jesse’s arm and he turned to look at her. “Here,” said Jesse as he pulled in front of the magnificent Italianate mansion. Sounds of music were coming from the park across the street. Jesse looked over around the fountain. “Looks like they’re having some kind of musical over there tonight.” He jumped out of the carriage and tied the horse’s rein to a hitching post.

Isabella just sat there with her hands in her lap, looking up at the house.

Perhaps this woman was a mean vicious person or maybe she was crazy and she would pull a knife on her. Isabella was a little scared but she was a gambler determined to try and convince the mistress of her husband that she would be better off with him and Isabella would be much better off without him and together they could devise a plan. What kind of plan? She was not quite sure; that part she hadn’t exactly figured out yet. What else could she do? This was it. At last she was at the house of Jacqueline Rousseau and she knew that everything in her life from here on out depended on this woman. Jesse walked around and helped Isabella down from the carriage. She stared up ahead and knew her whole life was in front of her.

“Do you want me to go in there with you?”

“No, I need to do this myself.”

“Okay, I’ll be across at the park.”

Isabella just stood there.

“Well are you going?” Asked Jesse.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she whispered making her way up the tabby lined steps. Gas lanterns flickered on either side of the house. Isabella looked back and saw Jesse slip into the darkness. She heard the sounds of his harmonica as she placed her nervous hand on the intricate black iron gate and opened it.

“I have to do this,” whispered Isabella.

On their way to the musical soiree’ that was being held in the park were Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker.

“Annalee dear, is that—?”

“Yes, Lucy, I’m afraid it is. What do you suppose she’s up to?”

“I don’t know. Which one is he married to?” asked Lucy.

“It’s the one going inside the gate. Virginia Whitlock saw them at church the other Sunday.”

“Church?” Lucy’s eyes bulged in astonishment.

“Now, Lucy, we both know that that’s what the church is for.”

“For what?”

“For the sinners, of course, and if Mr. McGinnis is trying to repent of his sins, well, don’t you think that’s a good thing?” asked Annalee.

“Well, of course, but you would think they’d be embarrassed,” said Lucy.

“I think, as Christians, we should be embarrassed for them. It’s our job,” said Annalee.

“Lord, I would just die, if anyone saw me doing any such thing.”

“Of course, you would, dear, and so would I, but that’s the difference in Christians. The thing I can’t believe is they carry on in front of the whole world.”

“Well, this is certainly interesting. Of course, we’re not ones to gossip, but even if we were, everybody already knows of their disgrace,” said Lucy.

“I still wonder why Mrs. McGinnis is paying that woman a visit?” said Annalee. We’ll just stay across the street for a while and we can see how long she stays.”

“That’s a good idea Annalee,” said Lucy as the two crossed the street under a starlit sky.

The wrought iron gate made a shrill sound as Isabella opened it. She heard the front door open and out of the corner of her eye saw the figure of a woman standing there.

“Do you need something?” the woman said softly.

Isabella closed her eyes and wished that she could disappear. Then she thought of Tom. The image of him in her mind forced her to turn back around and face the voice.

Jacqueline was stunned that it was Isabella McGinnis, Jules’s young wife. Jacqueline looked right at Isabella and through her. Lights flickered from the huge houses that lined the park as the two women stood facing each other. Jacqueline noticed Isabella’s pink cotton dress that was trimmed in what had to be French lace. It was lovely, but a local dressmaker must have made it.

Isabella arched her back, hoping Jacqueline did not see the lines of sweat forming on her dress. Jacqueline stared down at Isabella in bewilderment. The two women’s eyes met.

“I’d like to talk to you,” said Isabella

Jacqueline hesitated for a moment, then said, “Come in.”

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” said Isabella as she followed Jacqueline into the house.

“Please sit down,” said Jacqueline, pointing to a sofa in the parlor.

Isabella was anxious to leave, but knew she had to say what she had come there to say. The words came out in a firm voice.

“I want you to take my husband.”

Jacqueline threw her head back, black hair tumbled down her back. “Take him?” She was incredulous.

“Yes, you can have him. I know that you have been, I mean, I believe you have interest in each other and I just want to go back home. I want to divorce him.”

Jacqueline lit a cigarette and walked around the room. She walked over to the window and glanced out into the dark night, and then she turned back around and stared at Isabella.

“Do you think I have no pride?” Asked Jacqueline, her green eyes narrowing.

“No! I never thought that, I mean, I didn’t think that at all.”

Jacqueline just stared. “I see,” she said. “What makes you believe that I want him?”

Isabella’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Well, don’t you?”

Jacqueline laughed. “What makes you think I’d share that with you?”

Stunned, Isabella did not know what to say. Isabella noticed Jacqueline’s crimson silk dress; there was no doubt it had come from
Paris
. Isabella’s eyes widened as she glanced across the room and there, on top of a paw-footed plum mahogany table, was the crimson silk bonnet that she saw Jules buy in Mrs. Scarborough’s millinery shop. That fateful day three years ago.

“He bought it for me a long time ago.”

“I know,” said Isabella in a soft voice.