East of Orleans (30 page)

“Go down to my office at the warehouse. Hoyt should still be there. Tell him I said to take you over to the house on
Monterrey
. Go on in and make yourself at home. There’s maids’ quarters off the kitchen. Just sleep there tonight and tomorrow I’ll have Hoyt take you over to Oglethorpe to get your things.”

Priscilla was still talking when she headed toward the warehouse, but Jules did not hear another word she said.

Jules could hear the creak of the swing as he walked up onto the front porch. The seductive tunes of Debussy could be heard in the parlor.

Jacqueline was lying on the swing in a sheer black lace gown. She was naked underneath. Her black hair had fallen all around her face and down her back. She hurried and threw on a black silk robe.

“Don’t dress for me,” Jules said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I own this goddamn place and everything in it.”

“You’re a liar. I happen to know that I own this house. You deeded it to me.”

“What are you now, a law clerk?”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I just am and that’s all the reason I need.”

Jacqueline looked up at him. “I want you to leave.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t want me to leave no more than I want to,” Jules said as he looked her body up and down. “Let’s go inside.” He took off his hat and dropped it on the swing.

“I’m fine right here.”

“Let’s go inside and I promise you’ll be finer,” he said with a fixed gaze.

Jacqueline got up and walked into the parlor where she poured Jules a glass of whiskey.

“You’re a hell of a woman.”

She turned around with a pistol in her hand. “I could kill you.”

“But you won’t,” he said hiding the uncertainty in his voice as he looked at the gun.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Hell, I ain’t real sure,” said Jules with a coy grin.

She laughed. Jules walked closer and gripped her waist; he kissed her hungrily on the mouth. He removed the gun from her hand and put it on the sideboard.

“Woman, do you know what you do to me?”

“I hate you,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard that before.”

Jules took Jacqueline in his arms. She began to struggle as he carried her upstairs.

“Let go of me!”

He laid her on the bed and removed his shirt as she stroked his back with her long nails. She wanted him and it was obvious that he wanted her.

“You’re crazy,” she whispered in his ear.

“Take that damn thing off before I tear it off.”

“Why would you do that? You paid for it. Priscilla will be back shortly.”

“No, she won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. Shh—I’ll tell you later.” Then he removed his pants.

It had begun to rain hard, but neither Jules nor Jacqueline heard a thing as he slid the black lace gown off her shoulders. The soft light from the flicker of a single candle illuminated the room.

“You are so goddamn beautiful.” He slid her gown out from under her and rolled on top of her.

The rise and fall of their bodies could be seen in shadows against the wall. When Jacqueline thought Jules had no strength left, he pulled her under him again and made her cry once more.

When it was over, she could move no more. She lay up against him and thought she was more tired than she had ever been, but she wanted to talk, as women often do.

“Do you love me?” she whispered.

“Didn’t I just show you?” he said with cool indifference.

“I want you to say it. I want you to tell me.”

“I love you.”

“No, I want you to mean it.”

“Let me sleep.”

“Why did you marry her?”

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight.”

“Why?” Jacqueline demanded. There was a moment of silence.

His eyes became blank and his face cold. “Why did you fuck Patrick O’Brien?”

“I wanted a baby, I wanted you to marry me, but you refused and stayed out night after night. I was lonely. Don’t you understand? I’m sorry. Can’t you forgive me?”

“I just did,” he said as he slapped her bare ass.

“You married her out of spite, didn’t you? Answer me, didn’t you?” Jacqueline started to cry. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Yes, tonight, now go to sleep.”

“Please don’t leave me, Jules. You promised you’d never leave me.”

He slipped his arm around her waist.

A new kind of fear came over Jacqueline. Jules wanted her and she knew it. He not only wanted her body, he also wanted her heart. But Jacqueline wondered if he would do anything about it? She lay under Jules’ protective arm and as the soft wind blew her hair, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

Finally, it was over. Isabella heard the sounds of the train screech and pull into the depot. As she exited the passenger car, Isabella felt the brisk evening air whisk by her. She glanced up and did not see Jules. In the shadows of the crowd of passengers, Isabella saw Hoyt. She didn’t like him; he made her feel uncomfortable, but she was too tired to care. She picked up her sleepy baby and squeezed through the mass of people to get through the gate.

She wanted to turn around, run, and get back on the train. It could take her anywhere—she didn’t care; she just wanted to leave and never come back. Why hadn’t she told Tom about Jacob? Why didn’t she tell him about the baby? Tom would understand—he would take her and Elora away and he would make everything all right. However, she couldn’t tell him, not now anyway.

Isabella did not know how she was going to go back to Jules and that house. After seeing Tom, the thought of Jules touching her repulsed her. She looked out across the pink-red,
Savannah
sky. Going home to Shakerag had renewed the strength in her.

Elora opened her eyes and cried when she saw Hoyt. She reached out to Jesse for comfort and he took her in his arms. She was still clinging to Jesse when Isabella took her from him after getting into the carriage.

Isabella did not speak to Hoyt as she got out of the carriage in front of the big house on
Monterrey
. Isabella passed a side window and saw her husband bent over his desk with a green ledger book before him. Jules looked up, threw up his hand and gave Isabella a half smile. Isabella walked in through the back door and noticed a young, slender Negro woman whom she had never seen before. Isabella handed Elora to Jesse who now had returned from sitting the bags in the hall.

After a moment of silence Isabella said, “Who are you?”

Priscilla looked at Isabella and Jesse with nervous eyes and awkward movement. She wiped her hands on her red and white checked apron and attempted to take Elora from Jesse. Elora whimpered and tightened her arms around Jesse’s neck.

“You must be Mister Jules’s wife. Ise Priscilla and you shure have yourself a beautiful baby. Mister Jules he told me he had a young wife, but he ne’r say nothing ‘bout her being so pretty. I’m here to work and stay. Mister Jules he say dat I can live here and I’se shure is grateful to him for dat.”

Isabella inhaled and turned toward the kitchen.

“It’s a sweet potato pie, sweet potato pie is Mister Jules favorite. Shure nuff is.”

“How do you know what my husband’s favorite pie is?”

“Lawd, I know dat ever since I first been knowing Mister Jules.”

“How long have you known him?” asked Isabella with curious eyes.

“As long as I been knowing much of anything. I been knowing Mister Jules ever since I went to work for Miz Mae, but Ise a Christian woman now.”

“Who is Miss Mae, does she live here in
Savannah
?” asked Isabella with narrowed eyes.

“Laws no, Miz Mae she don’t live here she live over yonder in Norcross.”

“You mean you’re from Norcross?” asked Isabella.

“Well, not exactly, but I shure nuff stayed der for a spell. Long enough to know Mister Jules and him to know me.”

“Did you cook and clean for Miss Mae?”

“Her and all her girls and de menfolk too.”

“Must have been a big family,” said Isabella.

Jesse was about to laugh; he smiled, curled his bottom lip and turned his head.

Isabella walked hastily into Jules’s study. She stood in a corner and eyed her husband before slowly approaching his desk.

“Well, you look happy to be back,” Jules said, his eyes never leaving his ledger book.

“When were you gonna tell me, tomorrow, next week?” asked Isabella.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me that you done gone and hired that colored girl to cook for you. You think I can’t cook?”

Jules swung around in his chair and eyed his wife. He looked so tough and strong and yet when he smiled at her, Isabella often thought that he looked like a little boy, even when he gave her that half-sensual smile—the one that she was never sure what he was thinking.

“What did I have to do? Wait till rumors were floating all over town that you had hired yourself a cook? I guess you think I ain’t worth too much of nothing!” Isabella said with fiery eyes.

Jules laughed.

“Oh you think it’s funny do you? Well, it ain’t. You knew mighty well, Jules McGinnis, that I would not like it one bit. And not just a cook, but an experienced one.”

“An experienced cook?” Jules said with an amused face.

“Yes, she said that she knew you ever since she cooked for a woman named Mae that had a lot of daughters and menfolk. You expect me to be able to measure up to that?”

Jules dropped his eyes, laughed and shook his head. “No, little lady, I don’t expect you to be able to measure up to that.” He looked up at her and got up from his chair. His eyes searched her face and he leaned to kiss her lips.

Isabella tossed her head back. “I told you not to call me that.” Hot tears stung her face. “I don’t want you to touch me; you call me names I don’t like and you been keeping things from me.”

Isabella knew Jules was teasing her, but it made her mad all the same. However, she knew that he was keeping a lot of things from her; things she was certain that she had no idea about. Things that would set her free; like the whore on Oglethorpe. But there was one thing for certain: she would find out—maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but she would find out. Isabella looked up as Hoyt entered the room.

“Boss, one of the niggers’s got hurt and cut off his hand,” said Hoyt.

Jules smacked the desktop with his hand. His face turned to fury. “Why in the hell can’t anybody just follow directions? I’ve spent so much money and made it so damn easy for them, hell, even Elora could be a baler!”

Jules rubbed his temples and paced the floor. “Hell, woman, quit looking at me like that!”