East of Orleans (48 page)

Isabella was lost; she did not know what to say. She supposed she should just tell Tom the truth. “What are you talking about?” she said.

“Hell, Bella, you told me that you didn’t want that old sonofabitch in your bed and then I hear you had a miscarriage. What in the hell is that all about?” He looked at Isabella coldly.

She leaned back in her chair, there was tension in her face and then she started to cry.

“Did you know that I worked two shifts at the newspaper trying to catch up the note on your mama’s house, hoping that somehow it would help them and bring you home to me. But then I find out that you’re sleeping with that old bastard.”

“Tom, please, don’t say these things; you know I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

Isabella jumped to her feet, walked over and placed her arms around him. “I want you, too, Tom.”

“What makes you think I still want you?” he said.

Isabella searched Tom’s face anxiously. “What do you mean? You don’t want me?”

“You know, it ain’t all between my legs, Isabella. That old man has had his hands all over you. I want to know right now what will it be, him or me?”

“Don’t ask me that right now,” she cried.

“How can we ever go back to where we were before all of this happened?”

The rain was pouring down outside and Isabella felt chilled and broken-hearted.

“I’m going out for a while. You can stay here or leave, it’s up to you,” said Tom.

“Where are you going?”

“It don’t matter,” Tom said as he went out the door.

Several hours had passed when Isabella heard the sound of a brass key opening the hotel room door. She pretended to be asleep. Tom walked quietly over to the bed, bent down and pulled a crocheted blanket up over her shoulders. Isabella could smell the strong scent of whiskey. Tom sat on the bed and Isabella felt him watching her. She opened her eyes and he leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips, as if he meant to hurt her. He pressed himself hard over her taffeta dress and crawled on top of her. Isabella rose up, pulled the dress over her head, and threw it to the floor. Tom stood and Isabella heard his trousers drop to the floor. She turned to see his nude silhouette against the flicker of a single candle. Tom sat back down on the bed, unbuttoned her French lace camisole, and pulled it down off her shoulders, exposing her firm round breasts. He lay down on top of her and pulled down her pantaloons. Isabella took him to her bosom with a yearning she had never known before. He made love to her in an unexpected way; not the sweet, gentle Tom of years before, but a man who could not get enough of her. He rode her hard, as if she were one of Mae’s girls who had come to stay the night. It was obvious that if this was the only way he could have her, then, at that moment, he didn’t care. Finally, in their most intimate moment he opened his eyes, watched her as she turned her head, and cried out in ecstasy; he smiled as if he had been waiting on this moment of pleasuring her.

As Isabella drifted off to sleep, Tom wrapped his arms around her and held her close, but she did not hear the words that she wanted to hear. The storm grew angry across the river, but neither one of them noticed as they slept through the night.

It was nearing one a.m. and Patrick took another shot of whiskey, not being able to bear the thought of his wife being locked away forever. For two days he had not been able to sleep. He wondered if Nell and Charlie were managing to get the bar closed down for the night. A man had been shot there the previous evening. He knew that the crowd should be breaking up by now and he headed toward the door to see if they needed any help. Patrick had no way of knowing that Jules was sitting in the park on a bench, anxious for him to leave. Patrick gently crept into Jacqueline’s bedroom and kissed her softly on the cheek. Baby Juliette was nestled close to her mother. After a few moments, Patrick could not hold back the tears. Kate had left a few hours earlier, but told Patrick she’d be back by seven o’clock the next morning. Patrick left the house and headed to his saloon.

Jules watched Patrick until his carriage was out of sight, then Jules slipped around to the back door of Jacqueline’s house. The details had been carefully planned and now they had to be carried out. Fortunately, the back door was unlocked. Jules slipped inside and ran upstairs to Jacqueline’s bedroom. She was still asleep with the baby close beside her. Jules looked down into the smooth face of baby Juliette as she opened her eyes and smiled a big smile at Jules. And he grinned. She kicked her tiny feet and cooed. Shyly, he bent over and picked up the baby. Jules sank gleefully in a chair. Jacqueline awoke, startled to see Jules fussing over Juliette. “What are you doing here?”

Jules eyes twinkled. “She’s a beautiful baby, Jacqueline.” Quickly his mood changed, he got up and placed Juliette in her crib. And before Jacqueline was able to ask another question, Jules lifted her off the bed and started to carry her outside to a waiting carriage. Jacqueline kicked and fought Jules. She struggled and screamed, “Where are you taking me? Leave me alone! What about Patrick and my baby!”

“If there was another way in the world for me to protect you, I would. But for now, this is the only way. I don’t give a goddamn about Patrick.”

“They’re going to hang us both! You think you can do anything to anyone! Where are you taking me?”

“
Paris
, my love. I’m sending you to
Paris
by boat tonight. I’ve arranged to have you transported from the docks and you will be well cared for.”

“I want my brown satchel. Please, Jules, let me get it,” she cried.

Jacqueline broke free and ran across the room, unlocked the French armoire and grabbed the brown satchel. She opened it, looked inside, and pulled out the rosewood box.

“What are you doing?” Jules yelled as he rushed across the room and took the box out of her hands. “Just like the old days, isn’t it, Jacqueline? I thought you had gotten rid of this stuff. Don’t you know it’s going to kill you!”

Jacqueline was shaking her head and pleading, “No, let me have it, please, Jules!”

“This is one deal you aren’t going to cut with me, my darling.”

“Just let me have it this one time. I’ll need it to make the trip. Please, Jules, just this one last time, please!”

Without hesitation, Jules said, “Look, I’ve got to get you out of here until I can either talk some sense into that goddamned Noble Jones or he’s
replaced
. Just pretend you’re going on a vacation. Now, you’re going whether you like it or not.”

When Jules and Jacqueline arrived at the dock, she closed her eyes and saw her mother standing at the port, holding her hand and telling her that she would come back for her soon. Jacqueline began to cry out in fear. She dropped her brown satchel, whirled around, throwing her arms around Jules’s neck, holding onto him for dear life. She was a little girl clinging to her father.

Jules held her tightly. “What is it my love? I know you’re afraid, but I will see that you are taken care of and I will be here waiting when you return.”

“That is what
she
said,” cried Jacqueline.

“She?”

“My mother.”

“Close your eyes and I will be there, right before you. We may be a thousand miles apart, but you will be there in my heart. There is no love like the love I have for you, Jacqueline. I will be there ‘til the end.”

All of a sudden, a sad look crossed Jules face. “I lost you once, I never thought I could bear losing you again, but I have to do this.” He looked into Jacqueline’s helpless eyes. He kissed her softly.

“You do love me, don’t you, Jules?”

“I’ve always loved you. If it had not been for Patrick, I would have married you, but you betrayed me and I felt I could never trust you.”

“Then why did you marry Isabella?”

“Let’s not talk about that now.” Jules sat down on one of the cargo containers on the dock and took Jacqueline’s hand in his. “There are no bridges that can be burned between us; not in this life or even in death. At least I’ll know at night when I lay down that you are safe under some roof. As for little Juliette, I will see that she is well cared for until you return home. I know that she has Patrick and Kate, but I will keep a close eye on her as well.”

Jacqueline looked at him with her slanted, exotic green eyes, put her hand to his face and whispered, “
Toutes choses me conduisent 'a vous
.”
All
things
lead
me
to
you
.

Then all hell broke loose. Noble Jones served Patrick with papers demanding to know where Jacqueline had gone. Kate blamed Noble Jones and Isabella blamed Jules.

Jules had yet to say a word about Jacqueline’s disappearance.
Savannah
was busting with its favorite topic: Where was Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien?

Jacqueline’s defense team attacked the prosecution and the prosecution attacked her team of lawyers. Lawyers and spectators huddled around the courthouse. The knowledge that Jacqueline was missing sent the artists in
Forsyth
Park
chatting with each other more than they were painting. There was talk of suicide, and of her having gone back to
New Orleans
. The city was alive with endless speculation. And Patrick O’Brien could not speak at all. He did not know what to do. His heart was broken—he would have danced for the devil to get Jacqueline back in his life.