East of Orleans (45 page)

“Turn me loose,” she said.

“I ain’t never gonna turn you loose again. I don’t know how we are going to work all of this out, Bella, but I ain’t leaving here without you. I ain’t never leaving without you ever again.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “Now, come on, let’s go to the DeSoto and eat supper, and Bella, I don’t care who sees us.”

Jacqueline hurried to get out of the courtroom and return home. Once there she fed Juliette and then collapsed on the bed while Kate fixed supper for Patrick. Patrick entered the bedroom and she covered her eyes. “Raise up, honey,” he said. “You’re exhausted; are you hungry?” She shook her head. Patrick lay down on the bed next to Jacqueline and wrapped his arm around her. “It’s not going to do your case any good if you fall apart on us.” He clutched her hand. “I’m going to go over to the law office. I’ve got a meeting with our group there a little around seven and then I’ve got to close the tavern. Mother’s going to be here and she’ll look after Juliette. Your nerves are bad, I want you to rest.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Promise me you’ll lay here and get some rest.”

“I promise,” she whispered.

“Good. Honey, they are not going to find an innocent woman guilty. Now, quit worrying and get some sleep.” Patrick blew out the gas lamp next to the bed and walked out and closed the door. “Get some sleep!” he called back. Jacqueline listened as Patrick’s voice trailed off down the hall. Her hair fell loose around her face; she wondered if she was too tired to go on. She rose up, from the bed and went to get the rosewood box. She picked it up went back and sat down on the bed, opened the box and removed the opium. “Here you are my friend,” she whispered. When she was high on the opium she went to a place where no one seemed to bother her. A place where she felt safe and all alone; it was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling.

It was early evening and the streets were filled with people. Tom Slaughter took off his coat as he entered the restaurant at the Hotel DeSoto with Isabella. An eager young woman approached them and said, “May I help you?”

“A table for two,” said Tom.

“Follow me.” The woman smiled. An elderly man and woman glanced up at Tom and Isabella as they walked past the couple’s table. The woman leaned toward the man, whispering and pointing toward the newspaper on their table. As Isabella and Tom ate fried pork chops, rice, fried okra, milk gravy and biscuits, she asked, “Are you staying here?”

“Yes, didn’t I mention it?” said Tom.

Isabella smiled and shook her head.

“Come to my room,” Tom said in a low voice.

“Someone will see me,” she said.

“Why do you care if they see you? It’s not like you’ve got such a big circle of family and friends here.” He laughed wryly.

Isabella nodded. She wondered where Jules was and glanced at her watch. Usually, at this time, he was either at the warehouse or at the tavern.

“If you insist, I’ll take you home,” said Tom.

“You are my home,” she whispered.

“Oh, Bella, I am so glad you said that.” Tom took her hands into his. The elderly couple reading the newspaper looked over in their direction and exchanged glances. Tom and Isabella looked at each other for a few moments in silence, then Tom got up from the table and said, “Follow me.”

The wooden steps of the old warehouse shook as Jules walked up them. He went into his office, sat down at his desk, and began looked over his books. The price of cotton was becoming a worrisome concern. Jules poured a glass of whiskey from the bottle in his desk drawer, glanced out the window across the bay, and thought about the lumber mills that were starting to pop up all around the river. Lumber was going to be a better business than cotton. Cotton, he knew, had started to decline. He thought of his cotton field, and what it looked like the night, Isabella and Jacqueline set it ablaze. He drank his whiskey in one shot and refilled the glass. Jules dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He exhaled, looked out across the river and thought of Jacqueline. He knew that he had to do something. She was not going to survive this trial. He was sure the jury was against her and he hadn’t been able to pay off Noble Jones. He thought to himself that he should have fed Noble to the alligators like he did Hoyt. Things were starting to look clearer. Jules had to get Jacqueline out of town and he had to do it that night. There was no other way. He could not, would not, let her go to prison. Even if it meant him going instead. He wondered if she was strong enough to travel. She would have to be. He made her a promise years ago that he would not desert her and he could not, not now, not ever. Jules got up and left his warehouse. He walked toward the boat docks. He knew what he had to do. There was no other way. He lit a cigar and quickened his pace.

Isabella’s hands were shaking as she walked into Tom’s hotel room. What am I doing? She thought. Did she not remember that she had a child at home and her best friend was on trial for a murder that she knew she could have been on trial for. And she had a husband—where was he this very moment? She breathed deep and looked around the room.

“Tom I think I need to leave,” she said, looking at Tom. She could see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I have a child and a husband.”

“Just tell me why?” asked Tom.

“Why what?” she said.

“Why do you stay with him?”

“Because, in his own way, he loves me, and I had to think of my mama’s house.”

“Loves you! That’s not love, Bella. Can’t you see all he’s ever wanted to do is use you?”

Isabella sank down in a rose, velvet slipper chair. Even though she knew that she wanted to be there, at that very moment, she knew that she had to go. The opportunity for what she was about to do was overwhelming her.

She stood up, paused, and then said, “Tom, I can’t take it, I can’t take this now.” Isabella ran out of the room, down the winding hotel staircase and exited the lobby.

Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker had left the courthouse and decided to stop by the hotel to have dinner.

“Annalee, was that Mrs. McGinnis who just ran out the front door of the hotel?” asked Lucy Baker.

Annalee Hancock stood on the tip of her toes and stared at Isabella until she was out of sight. “Yes, it was. Maybe she’s found out that her friend Mrs. O’Brien is going to jail.”

“Whose room do you suppose she came out of?” asked Lucy.

“I don’t know, but, Lucy, if you ask me, we know too much already. I think we should keep this to ourselves.”

“I think you’re right,” said Lucy.

At that very moment, Tom Slaughter ran down the stairs and to the front door of the hotel lobby. He just stood there, staring out the door.

“Do you know that young man?” Lucy asked Annalee.

“Someone said he was a newspaper man from
Atlanta
, but I did see him talking in private to Mrs. McGinnis outside the courthouse today,” said Annalee.

“I guess he’s one of those very determined reporters,” said Lucy.

It was five a.m.when Jules arrived home. There was a single light on in the kitchen. Priscilla must have been up making coffee, he thought. He had worked hard all night on a plan. He knew that he could not predict what would happen in court, but he had a good idea. So, all night he had met with an old sea captain and made arrangements for a very precious cargo to be sent to
Europe
. How long she would be there he was not certain, but he would make sure that she was safe and taken care of until he could either
replace
or talk some sense into Noble Jones.

A short time later, an orange sun was beginning to come up over the river. Jules walked into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it, Priscilla?” She looked at Jules and pointed to the morning newspaper sitting on the kitchen table. There was a photo of Isabella and Jacqueline. Underneath the headline blared: “WHO KILLED JACOB HARTWELL?”

Jules eyes were fixed on hers. “Went to see a man about a dog.” He walked over to an English sideboard and poured a glass of whiskey. “Can I pour you a glass, my dear?”

Isabella stared at Jules in shock. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning; we have to be in court by nine!” For a moment Isabella almost turned and walked away, but then she said, “I’m sick of you drinking all the time; you’re a drunk, Jules, a whoremongering drunk”

Isabella felt bad. Deep in her heart she knew that she cared for Jules, just not in the same way that she felt about Tom. And she also knew that he would never love her the way he did Jacqueline. If there had ever been a doubt, the last few days in court had confirmed her suspicions. She saw the way Jules looked at Jacqueline and it told her everything.