Bayou Baby (23 page)

She’d despaired of finding the other item, cohosh, something she thought she’d never heard of until she found the jar containing the little blue-black berries. During her childhood she’d found the same berries, growing on bushes of beautiful purplish flowers, along the swamp behind her old home and had taken them to her mother. Mother tossed them; telling Justine never to touch them again or she would die from their poison. Opening the jar, she turned to look at Henri. If these would poison a child, why would Claire give them to Rowan?

“Is there something wrong?” Henri raised an eyebrow and reached for the jar.

“These are poisonous,” she whispered.

“Not de way we be using dem,” Claire said.

Justine jumped, surprised at the sharpness of the old woman’s hearing. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Dat be fine. You trust I know what I be doing. Dis chile doomed if we don’t do something. A little of dem berries gonna make dat babe want out right quick. Den we deal with its mama.”

Justine handed Henri the jar and turned to clean up the mess strewn about the shack. She needed to stay busy. So much had happened in such a short time, she hardly knew how to react anymore. Henri had been a dream come true, and Rowan, despite her obvious resentment, had saved Justine’s life. She’d never have survived Rosaline’s if they hadn’t met.

As the tea bubbled over the fire, the shack filled with a sweet, faintly acrid aroma. Claire barked orders and Henri and Justine bustled about, filling a small wooden bowl with the cloudy water they’d strained from the berries and the cotton root.

Henri knelt next to Rowan, lifting her so that her head lay against his chest. Claire instructed Justine to tip the bowl to Rowan’s lips. The first attempt resulted in more tea spilled over her front than in her mouth. Rowan moaned, frowning at the taste and Claire murmured encouragement.

“Go on chile, dis make de pain go away. You want de pain gone, oui?”

Rowan’s eyes fluttered and she opened her mouth, drinking in small sips until the bowl was empty.

“What now?” Justine asked.

“We wait,” Claire said.

While they waited, Reo cleaned Rowan’s wounds, gently removing the dirt and bits of debris from her escape out of the gator-infested waters. He mixed a tincture of various items that Justine noted Rowan picking through just a few days before.

“That’s opium,” Justine murmured.

“I know dat. It help with de pain.” Claire turned unseeing eyes, milky white now, with a pale grey iris. Eyes that unsettled Justine because they seemed to see beyond what the rest of them could.

“Rowan used it the other day to help with her headaches. I didn’t know it could be used that way. I’ve only seen men get high on it at Rosaline’s.”

“De poppy be a mighty powerful plant. It can send you to de limits of pleasure, an altered state of being, but it be deadly too. De powder can knock a man full out for days. I see it done. Sometime, it kills. Someone don’t know how to use de powder an de seeds might dope demselves too much. Just a pinch, dat be all you need in any case. I see many strong men brought down by dis stuff. Mostly de white man. He seem to have a weakness for dat feeling.”

“Oh.” Justine glanced at Henri, but his gaze remained on Rowan, who tossed about on the pallet.

Justine thought her belly looked frighteningly small to be birthing a baby. Surely, it was too soon. When she’d voiced that concern earlier, Claire had tsked, telling her the baby’s only chance was in arriving early. If it was meant to live, the spirits would see it did. Justine let the issue rest. If Rowan died, the baby would be orphaned anyway, and that wouldn’t be a life worth living.

Rowan cried out, and Justine’s attention moved to the tableau near the door. Claire felt her mangled belly, while Henri knelt down, his mouth to Rowan’s ear, murmuring something Justine couldn’t hear. Outside thunder rumbled, shaking the walls of the shack.

Light dimmed as clouds rolled over the sun and Justine felt a chill creep over her skin. She watched as fat drops of rain fell from the sky, landing in giant plops on the deck outside. Lightning flashed, followed by another grumble from the heavens.

“Dis be good luck.” Claire raised her head to listen.

Justine frowned but said nothing. She hoped the old woman was right. They could use a bit of luck for a change.

Fire blazed through her middle. Rowan kicked. The gators would grab her and drag her under and that would be it. She had to swim. The shoreline was so close, she’d almost reached it when the boat tipped, sending her into the murky shallows of the bayou. She recalled crawling through the mud, grasping handfuls of grass and sticks that scraped her palms. How did she get back in the water?

Another spasm of pain ripped through Rowan’s body, this time between her legs, releasing a pressure so strong that she felt the urge to push against it. What was happening to her?

De babe be comin, chile. Let it come. Don’t fight it, here?

Mama Gator spoke from somewhere in the depths of her mind, which was so dark and heavy now that Rowan wanted to tear her hair out. If only she had the energy to do so.

“Rowan, push. You can do it.” Henri’s voice. She did make it. Where, though?

“Henri?” Rowan turned but saw nothing but blackness. She tried to force her eyes open, seeing a dancing light for a moment before darkness enveloped her once more.

“I’m here,
cherie
. You must help the baby. Push.”

Rowan gave into the urge and pushed against the pain, despite the ache in her belly. Henri’s voice continued to murmur somewhere on the edge of her mind. She welcomed it, feeling comfort in his deep southern drawl.

You are so close now. Soon we’ll be together again.

Her mother. Together would mean… Rowan cried out and felt hands gripping her shoulders. A warmth spread between her legs and she kicked again. She would not let them kill her, not after she’d fought so hard. Henri called to her once more and Rowan forced her eyes open, blinking until she made out his features above her. The room beyond his face blurred, but she could see his eyes. Worry marked his brow, but his gaze remained warm, reassuring.

“Please don’t let me die,” she pleaded, but knew he couldn’t help her even if he wanted to.

“I’ll do whatever I can. I promise. But the baby is in danger, you must help it.”

“The baby will kill me.”

“No, you’re mad with fever,
cherie
. The baby will not kill you. You are sick.”

“Don’t let them kill me.”

Henri’s eyes softened and Rowan felt despair take root in her chest. He knew it was time. She wouldn’t make it through this. Already she felt separate from her body, yet connected enough to feel the baby ripping through her. How could they allow this to happen?

Hush, chile. Dis be de wish of de spirits. It be your time. Give de babe a chance to live. She will make it all right. She got her mama’s heart.

Mama Gator’s voice soothed her panic and Rowan turned to Henri once more. He smiled down at her, a tear slipping down his cheek. Yes, he knew what Mama Gator said. Maybe he even heard her too.

“I’m dying, Henri.”

“No, don’t say that. You’re strong.”

“Not strong enough. There was so much blood. I lay in the mud after I crawled from the water, beneath the cypress trees. I stayed for a long time before I could move. I know that I stayed too long. And I am sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my head aches constantly and my body, it’s not my own anymore. I saw a man at Lucien’s with the same sickness. Perhaps he passed it to me, I don’t know.”

“Shh.”

“No, I will not. I have to tell you things before it’s too late. Listen to me.”

Henri closed his eyes.

Rowan took a breath. Another contraction tore through her, a sickening pain that ate up all thought. She pushed once more. Sweat beaded her forehead. She tasted its saltiness on her lips.

“Breathe, you must breathe.” Henri chided her.

“I am. It’s so hard, but I am. Promise me you’ll look after her.”

“Who? Justine?”

Rowan snorted at his stupidity and licked her lips. “No, the baby. Promise me you’ll take her and keep her safe from Lucien. Pretend she is Justine’s. I don’t care. If he knows she’s mine, he will kill her.”

“Of course. I would do anything for our child. You know that.”

Staring up at him, she fought the urge to tell him the truth. The child wasn’t his. She’d had her cycle after leaving the swamp and arriving at Rosaline’s. Her memory was clear now. The child was Lucien’s. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. “Call her Celestine. She deserves a great name, and it will serve her well.”

“And if it’s a boy?”

“It’s a girl. And one more thing…”

“Anything.”

“Make him pay.”

A light blurred Henri’s face, brilliant light that sent a shock of pain through her head. Rowan closed her eyes and clenched her jaw to stop the scream that rose in her throat.

It be time, chile. Let go.

Rowan clung to Henri, unable to let her only link to life slip from her hands, but her body was so weak, and another pain coursed through her. She instinctively pushed, harder this time until she heard a tiny cry from a point beyond her vision.

Her daughter.

***

Justine held the tiny infant in her arms, and Henri fought back the tears as she gently rocked his daughter to sleep. The baby fit into the palm of his hand, she was so tiny, but Claire said she would be fine. She’d ordered Reo about, sending him for water, boiling it over the fire and tearing up strips of fabric from an old dress once belonging to Mama Gator. They’d immersed the strips into the water and then brought them to the old woman who cleaned the squealing bundle with them.

“De babe needs to feel her mama’s heart beat before she slips too far away.” Claire said setting the baby to Rowan’s breast. “It’s important de babe know she be loved.”

Henri looked away. Rowan’s expressionless face tore at his heart. Not strong enough to realize her child was safe. Not even able to hold her, Rowan lay still, her breathing shallow.

“How long?” he asked.

“I dunno. Mebbe she surprise us. Tomorrow she might open her eyes and give us hell for all we done to her.” The old woman didn’t sound convincing.

Justine raised her head and their eyes met. She blushed, but he could see the amazement still in her gaze at the tiny baby on Rowan’s chest.

“You’ll go with Reo and Claire in the morning,” he said.

She frowned. “Why? Where are you going?”

“To finish it. I promised Rowan.”

“You aren’t going alone. You’ll need me.”

“I won’t endanger you and the child. Lucien doesn’t care who he hurts, and I won’t let him near you again.”

“You be fightin over nonsense.” Claire picked up the now sleeping infant and handed her to Justine. “Reo and I take de babe. Der be a mama at de village who will nurse her fine. You do what you got to and den come back for her.”

“I can’t ask that of you.” Henri didn’t want Justine to come with him. He’d screwed up with Rowan and now she lay dying. He would not do the same to Justine.

“You didn’t ask. I be telling you, boy. I will take de babe. You do as you promised dat girl. You can’t go back on a dying vow. Dat be bad karma if you do. I get dat.”

Reo remained silent. He sat next to Justine, staring down at the infant, his face unreadable. Henri thought he might balk at the idea of returning with the old woman. He’d been so vocal about his opinion of Rowan’s quest for revenge. Now, he seemed tired, defeated.

“Reo?” The boy looked up, and Henri raised a brow in question.

“What? I do what Claire say. She know better den me, I reckon. I want more den anything in dis world to show dat
capon
he is not invincible. But I can’t. It is not my place, not my destiny.”

“Exactly, boy. Remember dat. Alique would skin my hide if I let you go too. We leave in de morning, soon as de sun rises. You two do what you must. See dat de girl does not die in vain.”

“But what if she lives?” Hope made Justine’s voice brittle, just a little too high.

Henri shook his head. “No,
cherie
. I don’t think that will happen.”

***

In the wee hours of the morning, as the sky lightened to a dull grey and the bullfrogs ceased their incessant calls, Rowan took her last breath. She did not wake, hadn’t since Celestine emerged from her body. Henri held her close, unable to let go until he felt Justine’s hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, allowing her to place a kiss on his brow.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Henri opened his mouth, unable to voice his feelings. “Don’t be angry with me, but it was different with her. I’ve wanted to hold her like this for so long. I wanted her to notice me, to really see me, but she never did. Not until it was too late. I’ve been such a fool and now she’s gone forever.”

“No, not a fool. Just a boy.”

The wisdom in Justine’s words made him pause. True, his feelings for Rowan had been immature, more of an obsession than genuine emotion. He knew this because he felt something quite different with Justine.

“I hurt her badly. You don’t know the half of it. If not for me—”

“Shh. It’s done now. She knows you never meant for this to happen. She loved you in her way. Women know these things. If she hated you, she’d never have come back here. If she blamed you, she wouldn’t have asked you to care for her child. She’d never have hated me if she felt nothing for you.”

“She didn’t hate you.” Henri shook his head, turning his gaze to Rowan’s still face. In death, her face relaxed, and he saw the girl-child who haunted his dreams from the moment he laid eyes on her.

“She wanted you, and couldn’t tell you. I threatened her because she knew I wanted you too.” Justine leaned over and placed a kiss on Rowan’s lips. She sat back, wiping a tear away with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure you want to come with me? You’d be safer with Claire.”

Justine smiled. “If the last thing I do is attempt to see that miserable bastard suffers, then I died doing something worthwhile. Lucien Dumas has caused enough pain.”

“We need a plan then.” Henri hadn’t thought farther than this moment. He had ideas, but nothing that he felt confident would work.

“Don’t worry, boy. I got a plan.” Claire’s voice came from the far corner of the room.

Henri turned and found her sitting up, smoothing down her dirty dress. “I’m all ears.”

The old woman cackled and stood. Henri wondered if this wasn’t personal for Claire as well. Indeed, there were few of her kind that Lucien hadn’t damaged in some way.