Heaven in a Wildflower (10 page)

Anjele was also experiencing strange but delicious twinges of her own, which she tried to dispel with humor. “But you think I’m just a spoiled, rich girl, remember? So what can you expect?”

“I can’t be sure about the spoiled part, just yet. Rich, I’ve no doubt. No.” He shook his head again and laughed. “I think I’ll stick to the hoe gang.” They had reached the Acadian settlement, and he pointed to a path leading off to the left. There were several shacks, built up on stilts to escape the backwater should a spring flood wreak havoc. “You’ll find Simona’s hut down there, third on the left. I’ll wait here to take you back, and I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry. If I’m missed in the fields, I’ll be the one in trouble this time.”

As she skipped on her way, she lightly called over her shoulder, “That’s no real problem, Gator. I hear your father is one of the overseers.”

“Not for me,” he muttered bitterly under his breath.

Simona shrieked with delight when she saw Anjele. “Oh, it’s been too long, my friend. But how you get here? Come inside. I give you wine.”

“No, no, I can’t stay long. Gator is waiting to take me back. Emalee said you were sick, and I was worried.” Curious, she glanced quickly about and tried to hide her revulsion at the poverty in which her friend was forced to live. The rotting boards of the shack were barely hanging together, and there were no windows, only gaping holes chopped through the wood to let in air. The only furnishing was some kind of misshapen pine-straw mattress on the floor, and a table and two benches that looked none too sturdy.

Simona sensed what she was thinking and said stiffly, “I know it isn’t much, but Frank, he works very hard, and your father, he promised to pay him extra money at the end of grinding season. We gonna get us another place, bigger, nicer.” Her hand instinctively went to her still-flat abdomen and, with a glow of pride, she happily announced, “We gonna need it for the baby.”

“Baby?” Anjele echoed, surprised and delighted as she rushed to hug her. “Oh, Simona, that’s wonderful. When do you think you’ll have it?”

“Maybe early spring. We have lots of time to settle in our new hut. But right now, I throw up a lot, so Frank, he don’t want me out in the heat. He say if I eat for two, he work for two.” A wide grin spread across her tanned face, then, with sudden, narrowed eyes, suspicion ignited. “Hey, what’s this you say about Gator waiting for you? What’s goin’ on? Last time I talk to him, he plenty mad with you for comin’ here. Now you gon’ tell me he bring you here?”

They sat down at the rickety table, and Anjele explained how he’d come along just in time to prevent her from stumbling into a bed of quicksand. “I’m lucky he was following me.”

“Yeah, but I’m not surprised.”

“Why not?”

“Like I tol’ Emalee all along, you the first girl Gator ask questions about, and that means he likes you. We never see him with a girl before, and like we tol’ you, they all run after him. He is good-looking, all right, but strange, no? He stay to himself all the time.

“But tell me,” she rushed on, eyes twinkling. “Is this the first time you see him since that night he fished you and Emalee outta the water?”

Anjele admitted it wasn’t and confided how he’d twice shown up at the willow.

Simona clapped her hands together in delight. “See? He does like you.” She went to one of the gaping holes and peered out to report, “He down there, all right. And I tell you what. If it weren’t for me bein’ already married, I’d be one of those girls after him, too.”

Anjele didn’t say anything, for what could she say? Simona was being ridiculous, and even if what she said were true, what difference did it make? She was not free for any man to court and never had been. From the second she’d drawn her first breath, her fate had been sealed.

Simona pursed her lips thoughtfully. She returned to the table and sat down. “You know,” she began in a dreamy voice, “when I knew I was gonna have this baby, I was so happy and proud. To think the beautiful thing me and Frank do together with our bodies could make such a miracle, why, it make me cry with wonder.

“You see, my friend”—she reached to take Anjele’s hands in hers and urge her to meet her probing gaze—“when Frank and me lay together naked, we make our bodies sing with the joys of touching and kissing all over. And when he put himself inside me, it’s like we become one person. Now we make another person. And it is a perfect thing, a perfect love. One day, you gonna have it that way, too.”

Anjele bit down on her lower lip, determined to keep silent. No matter how many times, through all the years they’d known each other, she had shared her hopes and dreams, as well as problems, with both Simona and Emalee, she had promised herself once the engagement had become official not to voice her dismay again. “Perhaps,” she finally murmured, then rose to her feet and feebly smiled. “But I guess I’d better be going now. Gator said he’d be in a lot of trouble if he’s missed.”

“Ha! Who’d dare say anything to him? Everyone scared, for he look so big and mean.” She also stood.

“Mean? I don’t understand why they’d think that. Granted, he’s well built and certainly not the kind you’d want to have trouble with, but I find he’s warm and sensitive, and he’s also witty and charming, and…” Her voice trailed off as she saw the way Simona was looking at her, as if she were trying to keep from bursting into gales of laughter. Annoyed, she demanded, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Simona giggled. “Except you sound like a girl falling in love.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. For heaven’s sake, I’m getting married in a few months, and—”

“That don’t matter.” Simona was suddenly serious again. Placing an arm about Anjele’s shoulders in a conspiratorial gesture, she said, “You can do nothing about that. That is decided by your family. But the rest of your life, you can do something about. And that includes loving another man if it makes you both happy.”

Anjele was only too familiar with the way Simona’s blunt honesty could sometimes shock, but this was absurd, and she said as much.

“Okay, okay, you do not agree with me, I know,” Simona conceded, “but there be no harm if you and Gator have fun these last few months before you move away. Who’s to know? You know Emalee and me would never say nothing. Jus’ go your way and have your love, my friend,” she urged, “and make beautiful memories to think back on when you have sad times. Gator, he know you gonna marry somebody else, don’t he?”

Miserably, Anjele nodded, wishing Simona would stop, because temptation was birthing.

“Then he understand how you only want to have fun, and he not be hurt later. So go to him now. Tell him how you feel. Ask him if he want to help you make these memories.”

Anjele laughed, told her she was crazy, and they hugged each other in parting.

She could feel Simona’s eyes on her as she hurried to where Gator was waiting.

“One of these days, I’ll give you poling lessons,” he remarked pleasantly as he helped her into the flat-bottom boat. “Then maybe you can make it through the swamp without turning over or running aground.”

Wanting to cast away the depression Simona had evoked, Anjele said cheerily, “Why not now?” She moved to the back of the craft and took up one of the long cane poles.

“All right. I’ll cast us off, and then do as I do. Take alternate prods with the pole and push.”

When they were on their way, carefully, slowly, gliding through the dark, honeyed water, Anjele asked, “Why do you use the pole? Why not an oar? I’ve gone fishing with my father on the river, and that’s what he used to row us along.”

“That was deep water. This is shallow. You’ve got to not only feel your way along to make sure you aren’t about to scrape bottom, but also probe for underwater cypress knees—and alligators.

“Tell me,” he went on. “How did you like fishing?”

“I loved it. I think those were some of the nicest times I’ve ever had.” She eagerly described how she and her father would leave the house just before dawn. Kesia would have a basket ready with bread and jam sandwiches and some fruit. They would hurry on their way and by the time the sun burst from the horizon, they’d be in their favorite spot on the river. It was in a fingered cove, shrouded by levees and draping willows and a few banana trees. There they would stay till midafternoon. Sometimes they would sit in the boat, but mostly they sat on the riverbank waiting for the fat catfish to bite the worm and swallow the hook.

“If it hadn’t been for all those times, I probably wouldn’t know everything I do about BelleClair. Poppa told me everything, but Momma says business shouldn’t be discussed around children.”

“You’re hardly a child, Anjele,” he interjected with a sweeping gaze.

Pretending not to notice, she continued, “Poppa doesn’t feel that way, and he’s told me all about how BelleClair got started in the first place, and how cotton gets to market, and how sugar is made. Everything. I know how many acres he owns and what every inch of it is used for. Why, I’ll bet if I had to, I could run the whole place by myself, and…” She realized she’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run on so.”

“I was enjoying it. Go on, please.”

And she did, glad to share the pleasant reverie. She related how they’d fry the fish to a golden brown in a cauldron of lard. Kesia, or one of the other servants, would spread a tablecloth under one of the big old oaks, and they’d sit right down on the ground and eat. “Of course, Claudia complained about the gnats and flies and mosquitoes, and finally she and Mother would get up and go in the house, but Poppa and I would sit right there and eat ourselves sick and then lie down and look up at the stars, and he’d tell me more stories, and I loved every second of it.” She was embarrassed to blink away tears of sadness over the good times ending.

Brett sensed what she was feeling and asked, “Why don’t you ever go fishing with him anymore?”

“Because I grew older, and Momma said it wasn’t ladylike. And besides, with the wedding and all, I guess I should be concentrating on other things now, anyway, instead of pining over childish memories.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s childish, and frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He thought a moment, then yielded to impulse. “How would you like to show me your secret fishing hole? I might be able to slip away one morning. Those cane rows are getting awfully tall, and it’s hard to count heads and discover somebody’s missing.”

Anjele wondered if she dared, but Simona’s plea began to echo, how she should make beautiful memories to think about when the bad times came. She reasoned Simona was right in saying Gator knew she was engaged. There’d be no misunderstanding. She made sure by forcing a casual tone to remark, “Well, if you don’t mind sneaking around. I mean, I do have a fiancé, and although you and I know we’re just friends, having a good time, we wouldn’t want him or anyone else to get the wrong idea.”

He drew in his breath, let it out slowly before nodding. “Sure. I understand. Besides…” Suddenly, he couldn’t resist adding bitterly, “I doubt your father would want you having anything to do with a Cajun, anyway.”

“No,” she regretted having to concede, “I don’t suppose he would.”

They moved on in silence, for suddenly there seemed nothing more to be said.

Finally, they reached the place where she’d left her horse.

Tension hung like an invisible shroud.

“Thank you,” she offered with a shy smile, “for coming to my rescue—again.”

“My pleasure,
ma chère
.”
His joviality was forced. “One of these days we’ll have that fishing trip.”

She felt a disappointed stab. Back there, in the bayou, he’d made it sound like an invitation. Now it seemed like idle conversation, insincere and soon to be forgotten. “Sure.” She tried to sound flip, uncaring. “I’d best get home.”

Brett knew he had to get away at once, or he was going to do what he’d been aching to do all afternoon, which was grab her and hold her and kiss her till they were both out of breath. “Yeah, I guess you do. Good-bye…Angel.” He grinned and used the nickname he teased her about.

Anjele was disappointed. Perhaps, she told herself, it was best if they didn’t meet again, even though Simona’s advice needled.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Wh…what?” Her heart began to pound.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Would you like to go fishing tomorrow?”

It was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy. Struggling to maintain her composure, she explained, “But I won’t be able to get out at dawn. It would be closer to noon. I could meet you at the willow. Nobody’s around that time of day. Poppa lets everyone break an hour for dinner because of the heat. The fish might not be biting then, but…” She gasped, embarrassed at how she’d once again gone on. But he didn’t seem to mind, because he was looking at her in a special way, as though he liked what he was seeing and hearing.

Brett opened and closed his hands at his sides with the aching desire to touch her, hold her. He could tell she sincerely wanted to go with him and, while he longed to be with her, he experienced also a flash of pity. Exuberant, filled with life, she was the most spirited girl he’d ever met, and it was cruel for circumstances to keep her harnessed. Yielding to impulse, he asked bluntly, “How old are you, Anjele?”

“Sixteen.”

He nodded, reminded of how guileless he’d been at that age. No wonder she looked at the world with dewy-eyed innocence. Born into wealth and all that implied, she hadn’t been exposed to stark reality. He’d be doing her a favor, he told himself, to befriend her, and firmly, almost angrily, he promised himself that was as far as their relationship would ever go. “I’ll be there at noon,” he finally told her, then hurried on his way, before they were seen by some of the field hands.