Chapter Thirteen
Sitting in a dark corner of the barn at the
David’s plantation, Marguerite held on to her big brother and wouldn’t let go. She understood they had to act as slaves in
Natchez until Papa Maurice came for them, but she never wanted to be parted
from Josef again. Who was this little
lady who caused her to be jailed, and then saved her so heroically, and why had
Papa Maurice married her? Marguerite
had known gut-wrenching fear years ago in Port-au-Prince, while she and Josef
watched as the little gallows was being built outside their cell window. At the time, she was very young and wanted
her mother, but Josef assured her God was not going to let them die. Josef had clairvoyant powers like their
mother, and Marguerite counted on the powers to save them, but watching the
weapon of your death being built by big men and their hate, made her doubt her
brother’s promises and bravery. She
wanted her mother, but they didn’t know if she was alive or dead in the little
hospital where she was taken after the man stabbed her. She could still see and smell the blood and
didn’t know a human body held that much.
Some of it had to be from the young English Captain, but the rest was
from her mother. The man had taken her mother’s
knife, and turned it back on her over and over again.
Josef acted first and hit the man with his
mother’s big black skillet, but Marguerite grabbed the knife, slippery with
blood, and stabbed the man in the leg.
She did not know if she killed him or not, but she wanted to. Josef took the knife from her and plunged it
into the man’s heart, just as the man was grabbing for Marguerite’s throat. When the man’s friends came to take him back
to his ship, they yelled bloody murder and called down the street for
help. Now she and her brother were in
this stinking cell, covered in their mother’s dried blood, and swallowing their
own nauseating fear.
Marguerite’s mother brought angry men home
to ‘heal’ them. This was part of Marguerite’s life. The only life she knew and it wasn’t strange
to her, just different from what other mothers did. Her friends on the street tried to tell her
it was not right, but those friends’ mothers took men to their beds for
money. Marguerite knew that was not
right. What her mother did was an act of
kindness… Josef told her that. She remembered being very small and seeing a
small portrait of her sister, Anna Marie and wondering where she was. Her mother couldn’t talk about the little
girl without crying.
Papa Maurice sat her on his lap one day
while her mother was out, and told her the story of her beautiful sister and the
tragedy of her death. He told her how
unhappy her mother was until she and Josef came along. He wanted them to know that the two of them
had saved her life. Marguerite’s father
died before she knew him. Papa Maurice
said he was a fine man who loved her and Josef very much, but the only father
Marguerite knew was her Papa Maurice. He
was a handsome Sea Captain who showed up unannounced three or four times a year,
and sometimes stayed for weeks. He
brought them big hugs and kisses, with gifts from faraway places, and books
with wonderful stories that he taught them to read. There were other men in her mother’s past,
who came to visit, but Papa Maurice was different; he belonged in the small
house with the little family. It felt
like home when he was at home.
Once, he had a terrible row with her mother
about the dangers of taking up with bad, angry men, and he left without saying
good-bye. She and Josef would not speak
to their mother for days for causing Papa Maurice to leave. But when he returned, he was angry with them for
not showing their mother the respect she deserved, and gave them stern lectures on how to treat
their mother… they never did it again. Sometimes when she and Josef were in
trouble they would go to the harbor and watch and pray for his ship, as their
mother was never allowed to spank them when he was in port. It would make their mother mad as hell, but
Papa Maurice stayed true to his word, as they knew he would.
Her mind went back to the cell in
Port-au-Prince, she remembered crying and praying for him to come, and how sad
he would be to come home to find his little family dead. She wanted to sit on
his big lap, bury her face in the smell of his shirt, and hold the match while
he lighted his cigar.
Josef loved to watch him shave and was
allowed to fill the shaving brush with the sweet smelling soap their mother
made. Those days were gone, and Josef
told her she would have to be brave and wait for the miracle he saw
coming. She wished with all her being
she could feel as calm as Josef, but she heard his tears at night. She knew most of his bravery was for her.
The hammers stopped and she and Josef ran
to the window. The horrible thing was finished. The smell of new wood was making her sick. The two children stood entranced by fear,
looking out of the window at the two little ropes hanging from the new
structure.
Marguerite, these ten years later, could
still hear his boots running on the old tile floors of the jail, and smell the
cigar in his coat before the door was opened, and Papa Maurice ran into the
cell grabbing his children. He picked
her up in his arms and bent to let Josef climb onto his back; suddenly they were out of the old jail rushing
down the street; his men on either side, swords drawn and ready to kill anyone
trying to stop them. These men would
follow their Captain to hell if it came to that. Marguerite peaked from his shirt in time to see he was running
toward the harbor. Josef jumped down and
ran ahead of him. The dingy was dipping
and swaying in the water as if calling them to hurry. They reached the boat and
jumped in, and the men rowed with all their strength back toward the ship. Even though they were in the little boat, Marguerite
wouldn’t let go of his neck, and he didn’t expect her to. Josef was sitting so close to his papa they
could have been joined at the hip. Papa
Maurice still looked stern and Marguerite buried her face back in his shirt,
knowing they weren’t safe yet. She didn’t
care now, as long as she could hold onto him, nothing bad would ever happen to
her again. She wanted desperately to ask
about her mother, but was terrified of the answer. Crying gently into his shirt she listened as
Maurice bent his head to their ears and said.
“Your mother is safe and getting well. She’ll be in hospital for a few days, but she
loves you and she’ll be fine. The bad
man’s dead and she’s not blamed. She
tried to take the blame, but they didn’t believe her.” He was staring into their upturned faces to
make sure they understood him. He got to the ship and carried her up the
ladder. His men were bringing up the
children’s belongings and putting them in the bunks they had prepared for
them. She never knew how he had known to
come and find them, nor how he had found her mother, but that magic was part of
him and his store house of powerful gris-gris.
That was her Papa Maurice, and she loved him with everything in her
young soul.
Marguerite sat close to Josef in the old
barn and listened to his comforting words.
His sister needed to know, Tanti ‘Tine was doing her best to help them,
and was sorry she had caused them grief.
Josef explained that it was his fault for not remembering Papa Maurice’s
letter, but they were safe and Pierre would never allow them to stay as slaves.
She
was trying to relax and lose some of her lingering fear. In the Cabildo in New
Orleans, she had no idea where Josef was and Papa Maurice was out to sea for
months. She had seen more sorrow and fear in her fifteen years than most people
see in forever. She wanted to go with papa
on this trip and see her mother, but he had asked that they stay and look after
his young wife. Of course they
agreed. She still hoped her mother would
give up healing young men and move to New Orleans; they could all be a family
again, but now that he had married Celestine that would never happen.
Papa asked her to love Celestine and she
would try. She would certainly try. She would do anything for him. He was her father and if he wanted her to
mend his socks and launder his shirts and
smalls, she would do it. Daughters in
her world did those things for their papas. But in the Cabildo, she knew he was not coming
and never would. Sitting alone in the dank, rat infested place, she had begun
to think the God he taught them to love must have a reason for calling her home
to heaven. She had seen the Ursulines in
their gardens and she wondered what it would be like to be one. She always liked helping people, especially
young mothers with their children. She
loved children and thought of having many, but first Papa Maurice would have to
find her a husband and set them up in a safe place away from the bad laws that
kept she and Josef captive. She thought
she would never know about having children now, she would have to wait and see
if God would let her attend to baby angels in heaven. Heaven was a wonderful place; she could see
her sister, Anna Marie and her real father, and wait for her mother and Josef
and Papa Maurice to follow. She discovered this heaven on the big ship during
rolling storms that wouldn’t stop, and nights passing pirate ships on the
horizon waiting to attack.
Papa
Maurice always out maneuvered the deadly pirates, and flew flags of all nations
to disguise his ship from the enemies that waited to slit a little girl’s throat. He knew each of the dangerous ships, and
which would attack which flag. He was
not a Captain to take his cargo lightly, and was probably why he was sought by
the wealthiest merchants to carry their goods.
She came out of her memories of Papa Maurice
as she was leaning against Josef’s big shoulder. She went back in her mind and remembered
hearing the soft fluff…fluff…fluff as
the heavy, dusty, black hems of two nuns walked up to the cell door. The guards said something to the two nuns and
left them alone. One pulled a knife from her habit and slid it into the lock,
and after a few twists and turns the big door came open and Celestine held her
in her arms, putting a hidden habit from her skirts over her head and down
around her slim body. The Reverend
Mother placed a wimple over her head and pinned it under her hair. There was a strange veil over her face, and she was being walked,
calmly out of the jail and into the sun.
She was walked calmly up to the convent and around back. Celestine
mounted her horse; reached down for Marguerite and helped her up onto the
saddle in front of her.
Celestine rode up rue du Quai
and traveled along the curving
river until she got to River Road. Marguerite
didn’t even ask about leaving the Reverend Mother behind in the jail cell. They
rode until Marguerite was feeling sick at her stomach from the fear of being in
jail, and the strange escape; plus the rocking of the horse’s big muscles. It
seemed like forever, and it was getting dark as she saw a drive up ahead. There were horse’s hooves behind them and
Celestine pushed her horse faster until they turned into the drive. Marguerite
saw Josef climbing down from a big water tank, and running toward them. She was handed down from the horse into
Josef’s arms as Pierre rode up beside them. He rushed them into the house and
up to the third floor and ran back down to Celestine.
The very same day she and Josef were
shipped off to a place called Natchez.
It would be safe, but she had to act as Letty’s nurse, and Josef would
work with the horses. She missed her mother and Papa Maurice, but was glad to
be safe again… and she had Josef.
They would have to stay until it was
safe. Letty was just learning to walk
and each day Marguerite took her along the levee, pointing to the different boats
and what they were hauling, and how fast they could go. Letty loved the big river, but was afraid of
the water. Marguerite was falling in
love with Colette. Colette taught her
how to do her hair and make the curls that looked like God himself made
them. She sure as hell didn’t like being
treated like a slave by Pierre’s parents, but she would rather this than the
dank rat infested cell in New Orleans.
Colette was worried about Celestine and
Pierre; she wanted to go home, but she had to wait for him to come to
Natchez. If that didn’t happen, Marguerite
had asked Collette if she and Josef would actually become slaves.
Colette did not know what would happen to them, they had already stayed longer
than planned and she didn’t like the way M. and Mme. David expected things of
Maurice’s children.
Marguerite had to take care of Letty as
well as do laundry and kitchen work. She
was sleeping on a cot in Letty’s room, up at dawn with the baby, and not in bed
until late at night. Still, it wasn’t
jail, and there was no hangman’s noose waiting for her. She sure wished there was a happy middle
ground. In the beginning of the second week, Colette called from the front of
the big house and ran down to the levee.
Pierre and Maurice stood like bastions of strength on the deck of the keelboat
as it pulled into the pier on the big river and the men stepped onto the levee.
Marguerite screamed for Josef, and jumped
up and down with Letty. She hadn’t been
this glad to see him since he rescued them in Port-au-Prince. She knew he would come; she had wished on it,
prayed on it and looked forward to it.
Papa Maurice ran toward her with the
biggest smile she had ever seen. She and
Letty ran up to him and he picked them both up and swung them around until
Letty screamed with joy at seeing her Papa.
Josef ran from the stables calling his name.
“Papa Maurice, you’re here.” He stood back looking contrite and a little
ashamed.
“What’s wrong, son, what’ve you done?” Maurice knew when Josef had been into
mischief, he could never hide his shame.
“I forgot to give Madame your letter. I
forgot you gave it to me. I almost got Marguerite hanged.” He was about to tear up.
“Don’t blame yourself, son, I take the
blame here.” He reached over, grabbed
him to his big chest and gave him a hug so strong Josef thought he was being
burped.
Maurice’s strange little family was
together and safe. He could leave on the
long voyage and only worry himself to death over the health of his wife, and
thank God, not the imprisonment of his children. He really should stop calling them children,
they were grown… Josef was almost an adult and big as an ox. Marguerite was
holding her papa around the waist and trying to walk at the same time, and he
wouldn’t dislodge her for anything in the world.
M. and Mme. David were giving him a
strange, horrified look from the front gallery, but he could give a rat’s
ass. He loved being a papa.
No comments:
Post a Comment