Bayou Baby (2 page)

Rowan pushed through the screen door, and winced when it shrieked in protest. So much for the element of surprise.

“You won’t harm him. I won’t let you.” Mama said from the shadows.

Rowan stepped onto the porch, its warped boards creaking and groaning under her weight. “How dare you sell me to a rat like Henri Fontaine? How dare you sell me to anyone?”

“How dare I, hmm? Guess I’ve been letting you get carried away with your fancies. You ain’t nothing. You hear me? I own you and I have every right to do what I want with you.”

“I’m not some object that you can just buy and sell, Mama. I’m a human being.”

“I’ve sheltered you far too long here in the swamp. You don’t know how the world works, honey. Women might be better off than we were when I was young, but as civilized as we like to believe we are, women will never be more than a pretty trinket to hang on a man’s arm. Even if you found some man foolish enough to marry you, you’d still be property.”

“At least he might love me. That’s more than I can say for my own mother. And I’d be out of this swamp, in a fine house with fine clothes.”

“Only white women marry up, child. Are you a white woman?”

The swing rocked faster as her mother’s anger grew. In the trees, the leaves fluttered when the wind picked up. Her mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

Rowan stepped off the porch and looked up into the trees. Eyes closed, she let the warm wind whip through her red hair. “Mama, what have you been conjuring out here in the dark? Are you trying to bind my magic?”

“And if I am?”

“Your Goddess is nothing against the dark spirits. You might have everyone in town fooled, but I know your magic is nothing more than parlor tricks.”

Jolene rose from the swing and walked to the edge of the battered old porch. “You cannot harm Henri. I have made sure you won’t. You best not anger the Goddess or you’ll see how much power she really holds. She will stop you from doing any harm. He was just a pawn, a tool I needed to prepare you for what is to come. I did it for your own good. Don’t you get it?”

“I don’t need magic to see he gets what he deserves; in time he will set his own trap. You should worry about yourself, Mama. You seem to have lost your common sense. I’m wondering how taking Henri’s money and allowing him to grunt like a pig while he pokes his skinny little bit into me is a good thing. What has it taught me? Aside from learning that I don’t wish to do that ever again, I’ve learned nothing.”

Her voice remained calm, but Rowan wasn’t. Her heart raced and her vision blurred with fury. She didn’t want to harm her mother, but she had to teach her a lesson. Rowan was not a possession, and she would not be anyone’s slave.

Jolene inhaled and turned to her daughter. Her chin trembled.

Rowan felt an ache in her chest.

“I’m sick.”

Rowan frowned as the words filtered through her anger.

“I’m dying, I don’t have much longer. You need to be looked after and I want to see to it while I’m still here.”

Rowan continued to stare. Jolene Maynor would not die any time soon. Although life on the bayou aged most women by years, at thirty-seven Jolene was still strikingly beautiful and healthy. Her silky black hair held not a touch of grey, and her caramel skin glowed with health. Her dark eyes sparkled with her vibrant spirit. Except now, they had dimmed, but Rowan knew her mother to be a good actress.

“I’m not a fool, Mama. You needed money and Henri paid double what he usually pays for you. You are both slimy
capon,
yellow to the core. Pretending you are dying is not going to change this. I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I wish I were, but I speak the truth. I am dying and I need to make plans for you. A young girl can’t stay out here in the swamp alone.”

“You did just fine.”

“I had protection, and I was never truly alone. You will have nothing. The vultures will be here before I’m cold in my grave. There are worse things than what Henri did, you know.”

“I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Oh can you? I’m not so sure about that. You were not able with Henri. You think another man would be as gentle with you or as kind? My eye! You need to realize what you’re up against out there. In the
real world,
you are not a person. The color of your skin might be light enough to allow you to pass in other cities, but here it makes you less than nothing. As enamored as men are with your body or your pretty face, it doesn’t change what you are: a half-breed whore’s daughter. You wouldn’t last a week.”

Rowan was silent. She could pass as a white woman; her skin had a golden hue, but not the darker brown of her mother’s. True, she would have to leave Louisiana to fool anyone, but she would last much longer than a week. Unlike her mother, she did not depend on anyone but herself.

It irked her that the spirits abandoned her when Henri came. She had called every one she could think of, and still Henri had taken what he wanted. However, she didn’t blame the spirits. They would have come, but she had been too distraught to cast her spells properly. Rowan knew she had to work on her focus, or she would never be able to call them at will.

“Your spirits didn’t come to help you because they are evil.” Mama said, as if reading Rowan’s mind. “They only care about what they can gain from you and since you have nothing, they don’t help you. You’ll see I’m right.”

“What have you planned to do, Mama? I won’t be someone’s whore.”

“You won’t be just anyone’s whore. No.” Her mother smiled.

Unease grew in Rowan’s belly. That smile wasn’t encouraging. “I won’t be a whore at all.”

“Rosaline is sending her man today. You will live there with her so that I can die in peace knowing you are safe.”

Rowan’s breath caught in her throat. “Never. I won’t go. How could you do this? You want your only child to lay down for one man after another every night? You might have enjoyed that but I do not.”

“Rosaline will protect you. You’ll be very popular, and that means you get certain privileges. Your pretty hair and golden skin are a tempting combination, and rich men love rare things. Some men will pay very much for the honor of lying next to you simply because you are my daughter. You should feel grateful. I have given you a better life than I have had. You will live in a grand home with servants and your own room. You will have fancy new clothes and decent food so you won’t look like a beanpole no more. Rose won’t put you to work until she’s trained you, so you’ll know what you’re doing.”

“Oh well, that makes it okay then. I can spread my legs much easier now.”

“You’ll get used to it. You might even grow to like it. It’s amazing how much power a woman holds between her legs.”

Jolene stepped toward the little shack, her head high. Apparently, the discussion was over. She moved slowly, perhaps with a slight hunch to her usually straight back.

The sun was nearly full in the sky and the air had warmed. Rowan would not be around for Rosaline’s man; they would not force her to do this. She hurried to the porch and felt around beneath the weathered boards until she found her bag. Shaking off the moss and the dirt, she slung it over her shoulder. Whether Mama was dying or not, Rowan wouldn’t let them treat her like property. She could hide in the swamp, there were few who would dare to look for her out here.

Just don’t get tangling with a caiman and you’ll be fine.

As she steered the old pirogue down the narrow river, the murky water ahead rippled. As though they knew she spoke of them, the gators moved stealthily next to the little boat. If she were to bump it on anything and tip, she wouldn’t have time to ponder her death.

A shiver went through her at the idea. It would be a better fate than Rosaline’s house. At least with the gators, she’d only be someone’s meal once.

Jolene stood at the sagging screen door as Rowan sneaked away. Shaking her head, she sighed and turned back into the shack. She’d spoiled the girl. It would be difficult to make her see that sometimes in life you had to take a few lumps; not everyone had the opportunity to live a life full of fine things. Nothing in this life was free. Some would pay more than Rowan had to. Far more. The pain in her chest distracted her for a moment. Taking short breaths until it passed, she lay down on the lumpy couch to rest.

By early afternoon, the heat would make it impossible to breathe and she would need her strength then. Rosaline’s man would arrive soon, and Jolene would have to drag her daughter back. Perhaps she should have arranged for him to take her immediately after Henri finished. No matter. Rowan could only have run to one place, and Jolene was not afraid to go after her, black magic or not.

Eyes closed, she wandered back in time. Where had she gone wrong? At what point did she lose control?

Rowan’s father, son of the
great
Pascal Dumas, had fooled her into letting him into her bed and her life. He made grand promises and she believed them all. She knew now she had been incredibly stupid, but back then she hadn’t given it a thought. What would a Dumas want with a whore? Yes, it was clear now that happy endings were not for Jolene Maynor.

Although married, he had promised to take care of her and she’d believed him. He gave her a nice house, with servants and pretty furniture. She had money whenever she needed it and people showed her respect even if they thought she was trash. She loved how those rich bitches would swallow their hatred and smile at her, although it pained them to do so. Then came the day Jolene found she was pregnant. He changed drastically after the news, becoming abusive and cruel. He would never claim some half-breed whore’s child as his own, and refused to believe it was his.

When Rowan arrived with her pale blue eyes and dark red hair, he washed his hands of Jolene and gave her an ultimatum: the baby or him. The Dumas family had no red-haired witches in it; she couldn’t possibly belong to him.

Devastated at his rejection and desperate to protect the life she’d grown accustomed to, Jolene went to his father to beg for help.

“Monsieur Dumas, I apologize for dragging you into such a nasty affair,” Jolene began as she entered his office. The girl who let her in closed the door softly, leaving them alone, and Jolene continued. “Your son has turned us out on the street. He won’t believe that Rowan is his child, Monsieur; I was not unfaithful. She is his daughter and I cannot care for her without your help.”

Pascal stared at her for a long time. He sat behind his large oak desk toying with a ruby ring on his little finger. Dogs barked outside. Despite the grand home, the smell of rotting garbage and animals’ feces assaulted her senses. She couldn’t imagine being homeless and vulnerable to the filth in the streets. Jolene was certain he’d turn her out as his son had, but instead he smiled.

“Mademoiselle, I think you are confused. My son has a wife and a fine boy. He would not have kept your baby.”

“But she’s his child.”

“It matters not if he fathered her.
C’est la mal pus.
A very bad spot for you to be in, but I can be a generous man given the right incentive.”

Something in his voice made her look up.

He grinned.

There would be a price for his generosity.

“What do you want?”

“Mais bien sur,
I do wish to help you and the child. I would hate to see anything bad come to you and your beautiful girl. After all, you have made my son very happy for some time. You deserve to be rewarded,
non?”
He paused.

Jolene eyed him warily. Like his son, Pascal Dumas was an attractive man. Although his hair had long ago lightened to a snow white, his eyes peered right into your soul, and when he smiled, a person felt as if the sun moved from behind the clouds. She could do far worse, and she had.

“I will find you a little house, out of the city of course.” He leaned on the desk, resting his chin on his hands.

She stared at his hands, manicured, with long fingers. Hands that had never seen a day of work.

“I will give you my protection. No one will bother you and I will see to it that you have all you require to survive. I will not let you go hungry.”

“What do you want in return?”

“Nothing more than you’ve given my son. You would share your, how do you say...charms? If I should have a friend now and then who needs company…” he looked at her meaningfully, a smile played on his lips. Anger bubbled in Jolene’s chest.

“Non, Monsieur.
How is that better than what I’m doing now? I would be a whore once again. That is better?”

“First, you would have a roof over your head and your child, she would be safe. Second, you would still breathe. It sounds much better to my ears than your alternative.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Never,
ma pitchouts
. I am giving you the facts. You will not slander my son’s name by claiming that little witch as his child. I cannot allow such gossip to be bandied about.”

“I would say nothing.”

“Ah, I wish I could be certain. Either you accept the deal I have offered, or you shall find your days are numbered.
C’est simple.”

Jolene chewed her lip, and glanced at the sleeping infant in her arms. What else could she do? She would have to earn money to support the baby. If it wasn’t Pascal it would have to be someone. The child was his granddaughter. He knew the truth about that. Red hair or brown, he knew who her father was. Jolene had no idea where the girl’s coloring had come from, she didn’t care, it was just damn inconvenient.

“All right, Monsieur, you have a deal,” she muttered.

“Tres bien!”
He rose and stepped around the desk to take her by the shoulders.

Jolene had to look up as Pascal towered over her.

“Meet me in town at your house tonight. Pack only what you need and I will take you to your new home. I see good things for you and me,
ma cherie
.”

Jolene smiled and allowed him to place a dry kiss on her mouth. She left the Dumas estate with her head high. Anyone watching her leave would have thought she had gotten exactly what she wanted. Jolene would never allow them to believe otherwise.

***

As Pascal led her to an old pirogue at the edge of the bayou running behind the plantation, her heart plummeted. There would be no pretty house in the country. No rose garden with a fenced in yard. He was hiding her in the swamp, alone with the gators and the spirits.

“This is what you call a better life?” she fumed, holding the baby tighter as the small boat rocked. “I am sorry, Monsieur Dumas, but I don’t wish for my daughter to grow up a swamp rat.”

“Better a swamp rat than not to grow at all, is it not?”

Jolene held her tongue. The mosquitoes buzzed. Rowan fussed as they tormented her. Jolene covered her with the blanket despite the sickening heat.

They traveled deep into the bayou, navigating around the cypress stumps and clumps of hyacinth, coming to a part of the river so narrow the boat’s sides scraped against the banks. They came to a stop in front of a dilapidated shack set far back from the bank of the river.

Pascal smiled, offering her his hand. “Welcome to your new home, Mademoiselle Maynor. Let’s get your bags inside so you and I can get better acquainted.”

Jolene got out of the little boat and made her way up the steep bank. The house looked worse as she moved closer to it. The small porch was missing boards and the screen door hung on one hinge, full of holes.

Pascal opened it and ushered her inside, where she nearly cried. A small stove sat in the corner of the one-room shack, a bucket of coal next to it. A bed had been placed in the other. In the center of the front room sat a small table with two chairs, looking ready to crumble at any moment. The bed was the only item that seemed new. Of course, it would be all that Pascal was concerned with since it was all that he planned to use. His body couldn’t possibly touch anything soiled by another.

“It is nice,
non?”
he asked.

“Non,
it is not nice. It is not even bad. It is disgusting and I hate it. I could go to any whore house and find a thousand times better than this.”

“Oui,
you may do so but they do not welcome infants so much. Also I believe we made a deal. Look at this....” He stepped over to the bed and reached under to pull out a white basket covered in pink lace. It was new.

She felt a small relief knowing the baby would sleep somewhere other than that bed.

“See, I have provided everything. What more do you need?”

“A couch to sit on, a door that is not full of holes, and possibly some things to clean the place with. Oh, while you are doing all of that you might find me a house. This is a shack—for trash.”

He took the baby from her and set her in the basket.

Rowan’s eyes lit up as they settled on the pretty lace. She cooed happily.

“Mais oui, ma petite.
In time, it will be better. You must have patience. First we must make sure I am getting a good deal, then I will reward you accordingly.”

He pulled Jolene against him.

She looked up, unblinking.

His dark eyes held a gleam that sent a shiver down her spine. Lowering his mouth, he brushed cool lips against hers.

Oh, he would get all that he deserved and more. He was a dirty old man who was lucky that she had fallen on hard times. Someone as desired as Jolene Maynor did not make deals. If it wasn’t for the power he held over the life of her child, she would never have agreed to this arrangement.

“Let us seal our deal. I have been told that you are worth much more than money.” He whispered against her ear. His breath seared her neck as his hands roamed her backside.

Jolene allowed him to kiss her but did not return his passion.

He pulled the thin dress over her head, growling as he ran his large hands over her body. “You will not stand there like the dead. That is not my deal.”

Jolene sighed. She would be a whore forever it seemed. How could she have allowed herself to believe otherwise? She loosened his pants and smiled her sweetest smile. “All right then, let me show you who got the better bargain here. Tomorrow I expect to see some new furniture and some repairs. Tonight, I will make you see I deserve much more than you have given.”

She knelt before him, drawing his pants down with her. His breath quickened as she nipped at his thigh. At least he wasn’t shriveled and puny as some old men were. It was far easier to pretend pleasure when they were equipped to give it. Taking him into her mouth Jolene sealed her end of their bargain.