Oppressed (24 page)

“
I…”

He cut me off before I had a chance to
respond. “I don’t have any money, but I can pay you in
tomatoes.”

“
Tomatoes?”

“
Yes. My wife, she loves to
plant tomatoes.” His eyes shone at the mention of his wife. “Would
you like some tomatoes? ”

“
Sure, I’d love some tomatoes,”
I said eagerly. I was learning how to cook gumbo
aux
herbes
,
seafood gumbo and every other type of gumbo under the sun, so
tomatoes were always welcome.

His face brightened and it was clear he
was relieved that I had accepted his tomato offering. He was silent
for a few seconds before he spoke again. “She’s pregnant. My wife,
she’s pregnant with our first child.” He nervously took off his
tattered hat. I had a feeling he wasn’t used to asking for
help.

“
That’s wonderful! You
must be so excited.”

He smiled and a small dimple appeared in
his left cheek. “I am. I am.” He looked down at his bare feet and
his shoulders slumped. “We can’t live on tomatoes
alone.”

“
Monsieur?” I said gently,
as I lifted his head up from its low position. “How can I help?
There’s no shame in asking for help.”

After a long and uncomfortable pause,
Monsieur Grady looked at me and spoke. “It’s our boss- he hasn’t
paid us for months and we’re all starving… Even my wife… He doesn’t
think we deserve to get paid because we’re Irish. He doesn’t say it
but I can tell by the look in his eyes. I promised the boys at our
factory that I’d get help. We don’t know what else to do or where
to turn.” His lips quivered. “But I don’t want to sell my soul.
Please don’t ask for my soul,” he begged with sincerity.

“
You’re already giving me
tomatoes, why would I ask for your soul?”

He laughed nervously.

“
Have a seat.”

Monsieur Grady nodded and sunk into
the mahogany arm chair that sat in front of my desk.

I turned to the shelves behind me and
knew exactly what he needed. “We’re going to fix your boss so that
he pays you right away.” I grabbed the ingredients off of the self
and turned around to meet Monsieur Grady’s tense
expression.

“
Fix him? I don’t want him
dead. I don’t want any trouble. Please.”

I let out a little laugh.
“Don’t worry, he’s not going to die. I’m going to make you an oil
called
Boss
Fix Oil
. All
you have to do is make sure that you pass some of the oil under his
desk and under your feet. It’ll give you control over your boss and
you’ll be sure to get that missing money in no time.”

I arranged the mixture of ingredients,
lit a green and black candle, pricked my finger with an iron
dagger, anointed it with seven drops of my blood and called on Ogun
to assist me in this particular matter. Ogun was the fiery spirit
of strength and progress who assisted the unemployed and offered
guidance to those who were having trouble realizing their goals. He
was fierce and powerful only because he knew that tough times
called for swift action and strength. Like Marinette he had been
responsible for starting the Haitian Revolution by planting the
idea of revolution in the minds of his followers.

“
Are you sure?” he asked
as the room grew noticeably hotter and the flames from the candles
rose higher and higher. My cheeks and fingers felt as if they were
on fire as I touched the ingredients and started to make the
oil.

I nodded and gave him a reassuring
smile. I could feel Ogun’s presence as I blended together the hot
chilies, sage, tobacco and various other herbs and powders. I
closed my eyes and mentally asked Ogun for help. Even though he was
a very powerful spirit he was rather sexist and usually showed
himself to male followers rather than female.

“
Fine,” I muttered. “Even
though you’re not showing yourself I can still feel you and hear
you. Please help Monsieur Grady with his problem. Please. He has a
baby on the way and his family is starving. I have an iron dagger
for you. I know how much you love iron.” I held the thick dagger up
in the air hoping that he would appreciate the offering of iron
mixed with drops of my blood.

Ogun laughed deeply and the flames blazed
higher and grew brighter. The room shook with his laugher,
prompting all of the furniture along with the windows to rattle and
wildly move.

“
I knew it! I knew you
were here! Can you help? Please?”

“
Yes I can help, if you tell
this man to get up. Tell this man to get up and stand up tall and
strong! Tell him to stand up straight! Tell him now!” Oshun
commanded in a deep and authoritative tone.

“
Get up.” I
ordered.

“
What?” Monsieur Grady’s
green eyes were horribly confused.

“
Get up! He says you need
to get up.” I motioned for him to rise from his chair.

“
Who says I need to get
up? I don’t see anyone here.” Monsieur Grady sunk lower and lower
in his chair. His eyes grew wider and wider as he took in the
entire scene that was playing out in front of him. Shivers overtook
him and instead of standing up he fell onto his knees and started
to mutter prayers while furiously making the Sign of the Cross. “I
knew I shouldn’t have come here. I knew it. Oh Lord have mercy on
me. Have mercy on my soul and forgive me for my sins for I have
walked right into the Devil’s Den. Have mercy on my soul and on the
soul of my wife and unborn child!”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
Sometimes helping people was really damn hard.

“
Tell the weak man to get
up!” ordered Ogun again. The room grew hotter and filled with the
scent of iron, blood and gunpowder. To my surprise and delight Ogun
manifested. Dressed in a blue and red military uniform he stood
tall, proud, and handsome and was the epitome of strength. The
flames embellished his already flawless complexion which made it
seem as if he were carved out of fine black onyx.

I stood up in respect and gave him a
little nod.

“
Tell him to get up!” Ogun
demanded.

I ran over to Monsieur Grady and was
going to help him off his knees when I felt a forceful arm grip
me.

“
No. Don’t help him. He
has to do it himself.”

Monsieur Grady was still deep in
prayer with tears streaming down his face, lips trembling and face
flushed.

“
Please get up,” I begged
him. “We can’t help you if you’re not willing to help yourself. It
will be okay. I promise as long as you get up. Everything will be
okay. ”

His eyes opened and he looked at me
pleadingly. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“
Yes, you can.” I gave him an
encouraging nod and he slowly started to get up.

“
Tell me to stand up
straight and have some pride. Tell him to stop slumping!” Ogun
shouted.

I repeated everything Ogun said and to
my relief Monsieur Grady stood up strong and for the first time
since he had arrived he stopped slumping.

“
Are you a man or a
mouse?” Ogun shouted in Monsieur Grady’s ear.

“
Are you a man or a
mouse?” I asked him.

“
Well, I’m not a
mouse…”

“
Are you a man or a
mouse?” Ogun shouted again. “Say that you’re a man and say it with
pride!”

I repeated everything Ogun had said
and prayed that Monsieur Grady would get it right this
time.

“
I’m a man,” he said
quietly. “I’m a man,” he said it again slightly louder.

“
Say it louder,” I
said.

“
I’m a man,” he said, not quite
convincingly.

Ogun shook his head in disapproval and
smacked Monsieur Grady across the face in an attempt to wake him up
from his hazy slumber.

“
I AM A MAN!” he roared.
“I AM A MAN!”

Ogun flashed me a bright smile before
turning back to Monsieur Grady. He clapped his palms together
forcefully. “If you’re a man you’ll no longer cower in the corner
like a coward. You’ll stand up tall and strong and fix your boss.”
He grabbed the oil I had prepared from off the desk and spit into
it and then handed it to me.

I told Monsieur Grady everything that
Ogun said and then gave him the oil.

“
I’m not a coward!” he
screamed over and over again until he was an interesting shade of
tomato red.

I smiled and let Monsieur Grady scream and
release all of his frustration. After he was done he turned to me.
“Thank you! Thank you!” He was ecstatic as he took the tiny vial
from my hand. “If this works I promise I‘ll bring you lots of fresh
tomatoes from the garden.”

I smiled at his
new
found
enthusiasm and confidence. “Bring them to Congo Square on Sunday,
and bring your wife too.”

He nodded and hurried out of the room.
I grabbed the iron dagger off my table and handed it to Ogun.
“Thank you.”

He took the dagger from me and gave me
a small salute before he disappeared.

I smiled to myself as he disappeared.
It was going to be another beautiful day.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

Feed the Saints

Tante Celeste’s Home, Rue de Rampart

New Orleans
, 1853

“
Cecile! Cecile!” Emile ran into
the room. Her dark brown curls were loose and wild over her
shoulders and her blue eyes gleamed in excitement. I admired how
much she had changed in the past two months. She no longer trembled
and walked around with an eternally gloomy expression on her face.
I had finally seen her smile and I was hopeful that we would be
able to somehow overcome our horrible pasts and move forward
together.

“
What is it?” I asked, curious
as to what had gotten her so excited.

“
You have to try my new gumbo
recipe!”

I grinned and followed her into the
kitchen where we were met with the delicious scent of okra, fresh
tomatoes, rich butter and fiery spices. “It smells
amazing!”

She beamed. “Do you think?”

I couldn’t resist so I grabbed a spoon and
scooped some right out of the pot. I nodded between mouthfuls,
unable to stop eating. After finally gaining some self-control I
forced myself to put the spoon down. “Emilie, you have to start
selling your food in the Market,” I said with sincerity.

She gave me an uncertain look,
shrugged and then smiled. “Maybe I will.”

“
What are you doing for the rest
of the day? I’m off to feed the Saints and Spirits. The Delmonts
have their court hearing today and that judge has to rule in their
favor. Would you like to come with me?”

“
No. I’m going to stay
here and try out some new calas recipes. You go ahead.” She gave me
another small smile which made her eyes sparkle.

“
Okay, well if you change your
mind you kind where to find me.”

She nodded.

With a bagful of Guinea peppers
in my hand I stepped out onto the narrow streets.
I tried to ignore
the stares and whispers of the neighborhood snobs, but I could
still feel their judgmental eyes on me as they took in the sight of
my simple cotton dress and loose, bonnet-less hair.

Since news of the Edmond scandal had
spread throughout the neighborhood, not one of them dared to speak
to me or look me directly in the eyes. At first I had been
mortified and ashamed at the very public shunning but now I found
it amusing and even liberating. I often wondered how much time and
energy they wasted talking about me and my supposedly disgraceful
life. Did they discuss me over beignets and cafe au lait? While
they sipped champagne and ate petit fours?

“
Bonjour!” I waved at Ines
and Isadora who quickly turned their heads and pretended they
hadn’t seen me. I silently laughed at their discomfort and
stupidity.

Like every other day the Vieux Carré was
bustling with life. I hurried past fruit vendors, heaps of
pralines, dusty liquor shops. I navigated the cobbled streets,
while trying to avoid getting trampled on by horse carts and bitten
by random stray animals.

“
I need some café.” I
heard a familiar voice and turned around. “I need some café that
is

Noir comme le
diable, chaud comme
l'enfer, pur comme un ange, doux comme l'amour
,” he sang.

I smiled as my eyes rested on his striking
face with its angular cheekbones and full lips. For the past two
months another beautiful and very welcome spirit had attached
himself to me. Lucus had been a constant presence in my life ever
since my horrific stand-off with Edmond, and somehow I knew that he
was the one responsible for making sure that his cousin never
carried out his many threats.

He always found me in the Vieux Carré and
accompanied me whenever I went on one of my jobs. And though I
reminded myself I didn’t need his protection I welcomed his company
and felt safe when he was by my side. Sadly, I was getting too used
to having him by my side, which distressed me because I knew it
wouldn’t end well. We were still from two very different worlds,
and I knew the very real expectations he had placed upon him. “And
what brings you to the Vieux Carré today?” I asked. “Gambling,
drinking, lawlessness?”