Chapter Seven
They were married one week later in the
Cathedral of St. Louis. It had been easy
explaining to the Reverend Mother, that Maurice’s proposal had caused Celestine
to go into a downward spiral, and that God… Pierre and Colette convinced
Celestine she would learn to love him and be patient as his wife. The Reverend Mother was very relieved, she
thought she knew people and to make such a mistake about the man had disturbed
her greatly.
Maurice carried Celestine through the muddy
streets to the Cathedral to protect her shoes and dress. The wedding was sweet. Celestine wore her
blue silk and Maurice wore his new linen shirt once Ste. Mary Clarisse got the
blood out of the sleeve, and his big blue coat with the gold piping. The only thing missing for Maurice was his
Josef as best man and Marguerite as a maid of honor. But it was too dangerous for them to appear
in public; one day things would change, and he could have his cake and eat it
too with his adopted children. Maurice wanted to introduce them to Celestine,
but they were busy getting him ready to sail, and Celestine was crazy with the
wedding. Time passed so quickly and before he knew it, he was getting married
and his fantasy world was becoming his reality world. There would be plenty of time to bring his
little family together before he sailed.
He had never been so happy.
Celestine visited the new perfume shop on rue Royale and M. Chenier created a
scent for her. He sniffed around her
hair and her shoulders and decided on a light scent of soft Jasmine. She and
Maurice were both pleased with the fragrance.
Ste. Mary Clarisse was making a shirt for
Maurice, and Celestine had almost finished another one by the time he was due
to leave. But…he would not know until he
was out to sea that Celestine embroidered her name running through a tiny heart
on the front of both shirts along the tail.
Her name would be worn next to his manhood, and none would be the
wiser. It would please him to know she
was so close.
She filled his sea chest with clove soaps,
mint leaves, and wild doe tongue leaves, to keep his clothes fresh on the long
voyage. She filled his personal chest with peach preserves, strawberry jams,
pickles, candied orange slices, Colette’s alligator jerky, pickled quail eggs
and wonderful things he would want from home. Under his pillow she placed one
of her handkerchiefs filled with her Jasmine scent.
The weather was too bad to leave that week,
so he stayed on another week. In the two
weeks before he left he had accomplished a great deal. He had married his sweetheart, bought her the
house on rue du Maine from Pierre’s
family, put everything he owned in her name including le Celestine and helped Pierre and Colette move up river, and... he
was pretty sure he had impregnated his wife.
If not, it wasn’t for the lack of trying. Josef and Marguerite were busy packing his
things from his little house to move to the big one and had not had time to visit
with him as much as they would like. He would be gone for almost a year but he
had not had time to build the widow’s walk before he left. That would be his first project once he returned. He left with a list of furniture from Pierre
and Colette for their new house and a smaller list from Celestine for their
newly acquired dream house. There was
something important he forgot to tell her; the thought was nagging at him, but
he was too busy being happy to remember anything but his maps, charts and the clothes she packed for
him. Maurice dined with Josef and Marguerite
aboard ship two nights before he sailed and told them how he wanted the new
house arranged.
Marguerite could not wait to meet her new
Tanti’ Tine as Maurice asked that his wife be addressed, and was already
excited about having another woman in her life.
It was such a long time since she had seen her own mama, and this was a
new and exciting adventure. Maurice gave
Josef a letter of introduction to Celestine in case they were stopped on the
way to rue du Maine once they had
closed the little house. Life was good. Maurice and his children finished
dinner and walked back up to the new house to meet their new ‘mama’. But Celestine was having dinner with friends at
the convent and would not be home until later.
Maurice walked the children home and went back to wait for his new
bride.
Celestine was beside herself, she had the
house of her dreams, but she was losing her man to the sea. She wouldn’t be able to bear it… she knew
it. She would not be able to sleep
without his arms around her, and that big hairy chest under her head; maybe she
should keep the cat as a pillow. The
house was too big for just one person.
He had not been gone three days when the
bell on the big gate of the carriageway was ringing incessantly. She walked out
to see a young African girl, she guessed to be around fifteen and a young man a
couple of years older, standing at the gate; both well dressed holding satchels
and baskets of their belongings.
“We’re here, Tanti ‘Tine.” The young man was holding his hat clutched to
his chest.
“Who are you and what do you want?” She figured they had the wrong house.
“Captain sent us, Tanti. We’re his....”
He looked confused, why did this woman not know or expect them.
“My name’s Josef… and this is…
Marguerite.” He asked trying to trigger
her memory. Celestine had no intention
of having slaves in her home.
“To whom do you belong?” She asked with her
heart in her throat; she had never had the discussion with Maurice, but she
knew many of the ships were slave ships, and she would not condone that.
“We’re here for you, misses.”
“Aah,”
her gasp was audible. “Come in, please, get off the street.”
What to do with this dilemma?
“When did my husband make this...
purchase?” She was finding it hard to
breathe.
“We’ve been with Captain since we were very
young.” Josef was more confused, how
much should he tell her? Would she turn
them out before the Captain came back to rescue them? He put an arm around his sister. She was trying not to cry.
“Please go around to the kitchen and have
some milk and cake. I have to think.” She was incredulous. She would love some help to keep her company,
clean the house, and take care of the horse and carriage, but she would not own
another human being. She had seen too many slave auctions in the parade ground
outside the Cathedral. Miserable
children dragged from their mother’s arms, young women holding onto husbands
they would never see again in this lifetime.
She would never be a part of that.
She walked into Maurice’s new study and
opened the drawer to the big desk. She
grabbed the papers he had put in her name.
She was shuffling through the deed to the house and the ship and then in
the very last of the papers was an old bill of sale for two slaves, one
Marguerite Dubois and Josef Dubois. Born
in Port-au-Prince, Haiti and sold to one Maurice Dubois in 1789.
These two people must have been very small children
when he bought them. What did that say
about her husband that he would buy children? He had not signed these papers
over to Celestine. She found a legal
document giving her power of attorney. Praise
God from whom all blessing’s flow. She
made the sign of the cross and went back out to the kitchen.
“Josef, Marguerite? It seems my husband has made it possible for
me to give you your freedom.”
“Please, misses you don’t understand. We don’t want freedom.”
“I don’t believe God intended us to own
each other and I’m spiritually, morally and emotionally against owning another
being. Therefore, I have to speak to my husband’s lawyer and find out how I go
about releasing you. Until that time you
may stay in the rooms off the kitchen as my guests.” She knew the guest part was totally taboo,
but she had to think this through and decide what could be done.
Celestine was ushered into Mother
Superior’s office and took a seat. She
had the bill of sale in her hand and told the Reverend Mother everything.
“I agree with you, my dear. I think it’s a good idea to go to his
lawyers. It’s important that this is a
legal agreement so they can’t be put back on that horrible slave block.” She didn’t want Celestine to see her
face. The Convent had owned slaves, but
not children. Why would this man buy
children? Celestine walked around to rue Royale and spoke to M. Dubonnet. He was not in total agreement with her wish
to give these people their freedom, but under the law, she was entitled to this
action. He would draw up the necessary
papers and bring them around to her in a couple of days. He would also send a letter with his next
packet to let Capt. Dubois know of his wife’s actions. This business of signing your things over to
your wife was a bad citizen and he was against it from the beginning. What if she decided to sell Le Celestine out from under the
Captain? He would then see his folly. If
he were here, it didn’t matter if her name was on a paper or not, a husband
owned his wife’s property, but with him gone for so long, she could sell
anything and be gone before he returned.
Celestine went home and explained to the
couple what she had done. There was not
the rejoicing she expected. There was
terror from Marguerite and confusion and fear from Josef. She explained that they could stay in the
house while she was gone up river to visit friends and when she returned, the
papers should be completed. She needed
to speak to Pierre. She knew he did not
believe in owning slaves either and was a big reason he had run away from his
parents’ plantation in Natchez when he was a young boy. She needed to know what he thought about this
whole business. She wondered if he even knew
about these two.
Chapter Eight
Maurice was gone three days before he
realized he had forgotten to tell Celestine about Marguerite and Josef. He was glad he had given Josef a letter of
introduction to Celestine and instructions for their safety, but he could not
believe his horrible blunder. He would
be receiving a packet from Dubonnet
while in Haiti, and would send long
letters of apologies to his new family.
What kind of horrible papa forgets to present his children to his new
wife? He decided to fill the package
with delightful delicacies for all; maybe he could buy their forgiveness, like
other wayward papas. Anna would have a
package ready to go to Josef and Marguerite, and he would add a few things to
that also. Meanwhile, he would have to pray the letter would suffice and his
children would be safe. Thank God he
gave Josef the letter, he was not a total idiot, just felt like one at the
moment.
He could not wear the new shirts too often
walking the big decks of the beautiful ship as they caused a huge erection
knowing Celestine’s name was resting on his groin. Maybe she could embroider his pillow cases
instead. He laughed as he thought of the
handkerchief filled with the scent of jasmine resting on the pillow next to him
each night, causing him to dream of her constantly. He never knew love could rob your time and
energy while clouding your mind. He had
known sailors getting tangled in the rigging while mooning over their wives left
behind, but he never understood until now.
So far the weather was good and except for
the choppy, square waves of the Gulf making the big ship feel like broken
wheels on a rocky road, he made better time than expected. His men carried such respect for him, none
had mentioned the incident with Celestine and her announcement on the levee and
he appreciated it more than they knew.
He felt good knowing Josef and Marguerite were
watching over Celestine, and she over them in the big house, but his guilt at
not introducing them was heavy. He had worried
about her being alone with Pierre and Colette so far away, now he need not. He wondered what his children thought of his
new wife, but maybe they had not gone to rue
du Maine as yet. It would take time
for them to clear out the little house he kept in New Orleans, before the new
owners moved in. His children were such
a part of his life he could not imagine any acquaintances of his not knowing
about them. They were not allowed to attend the wedding; it was too dangerous,
but his Marguerite would’ve loved it.
She loved the ceremony and the pageantry of the church. He would make sure
the packet contained a new dress for her.
His life was working out better than expected, but he had no idea his
life was empty until he met Celestine.
He should have told her about the two loves of his life. The letter explained as much as he could
write, the rest should be spoken and not written. Pierre could clear up any questions
she may have, or she could ask the children directly.
Maurice was a day out of Port-au-Prince
when the weather began to turn ugly. He
left his well trained crew to weather the storm, and went to his cabin to
finish his letter to Celestine. The
choppy, bouncing cabin was comforting and familiar. There had been times when these storms frightened
him, and made him worry for his crew and cargo, but over the years he learned
to read the sea and the wind. He knew
when to worry and when to let it happen.
This was one of those storms that could rock you to sleep or out of bed,
but keeps you close to God. Always a
religious man he had weathered many storms with the old man’s help and mercy,
and sought him in times of trouble. He
trusted him now to see his ship and crew into calm waters and the safety of
Port-au-Prince.
Anna always knew he was coming before he
sailed into port. She would have the
little house clean and spruced up just for him, and he was looking forward to
telling her about Celestine and his new life.
He wanted to tell her how Marguerite was growing into a beauty and Josef
was getting taller and stronger by the day.
She was so proud of them and missed them so. One day Maurice would talk
her into coming to live in New Orleans and giving up her Voudou, but if she
insisted, she could practice her religion in New Orleans. He was not her judge, and if God needed her
to change he would deal with it. Maurice
would love for her to know Celestine, but he did not know how to handle his
long time mistress and wife under the same roof. It could get a bit messy with one wielding a
knife and the other wielding strong Voudou, a man could end up dead... or
worse.
He would never give up Celestine, and he
didn’t want to give up Anna. She had
been his safe harbor ever since he was young and afraid of life. She turned him into a lover and taught him
not to be afraid of his own sexuality.
It was not an easy task as he had been combative, mean and had fought like the devil not to feel anything
but disgust for the whole business. But,
his sweet Anna won, and her gentle ways and love for him had given him a normal
life. He never wanted men, but for a while
after the rapes, he did not know what he wanted, and he was afraid the men who
raped him saw something in him he did not know was there. When he first met Anna, he wanted neither a
man nor a woman. His friends bragged
about the women they had conquered, and how mighty and manly they were in bed,
but the whole business just made him want to hurt someone.
Killing the man trying to rape him on the
British prison ship had not helped him feel good about himself. He was only eleven when he ran away from home
to fight in the revolution of 1775. Before
he was twelve he was captured and sent to the prison ships out of Charleston
Harbor with other boys who foolishly had done the same. He watched in horror as the other boys were
exploited and hurt, but he waited for his turn, he knew it was coming and by
damn, he would be prepared. He made a
weapon from his spoon and used it right as the man was trying to enter him. To
this very day, remembering the man bleed to death with his pants down and
pecker going limp, still haunted him.
But the man’s death allowed him the opportunity to escape and take a few
of his friends with him. Once they were free, no one, not even the British,
suspected a little boy had done such a brutal murder, but knowing he was
capable of it terrified him. He said
good-bye to his friends Andy and John, went to sea as a cabin boy and never
went home again.
Anna dealt with the
memories of his past and killed the demons the memories created.
Loving memories of Anna were filling his
head and he didn’t want to stop them. He
first saw her in the market of Port-au-Prince reading palms and telling
fortunes. She was a black haired beauty,
full breasted… her peasant blouse
showing more than half of her dark-brown, silky breasts. An old leather belt
held up her skirts and encircled her tiny waist twice. The end of the too-long belt hung over her
groin like a long, limp penis and was strangely arousing. Her thin ankles and
parts of her long legs could be seen when she propped one sandaled foot on the
carriage block. Her raw sexual beauty stirred something in his groin for the
first time, and he was intrigued to find this creature could give him an
erection. He had just turned nineteen
and had been celibate for so long, he had given up the whole idea of intimacy. Most times when he thought about the act, bad
memories flooded in and erased any pleasure he was feeling, and made him sick
to his stomach. She was obviously a fake, reading his palm and telling him he
would become a great lover; that was ludicrous… although he liked her holding
his hand. He liked feeling her skin and
looking into her deep black eyes. Her
long curly lashes seemed to blink slower than most and he felt she was becoming
aroused just speaking to him. She was
intoxicating, and he fell under some spell to follow her; listen to her
laughter, and watch her eyes looking deep into his soul. He followed her around
the old tropical square, spying on her from behind clusters of banana trees, as
she took on more customers. Hearing her
wonderful laughter, and watching as she drew many men into her web was
intoxicating to his young man’s soul.
When she walked it was like dancing and when the music started in the
square, she did dance, and she danced for the sailors who would throw money to
her. Hardcore, seasoned sailors offered
her their full pay to go with them, but she laughed, stuffing their money down
their breeches and feeling around before withdrawing her hand, sending them on
their way and teasing: “Oh Monsieur, you
are too large.” Or “Oh Monsieur, I’d
lose my heart to you and that monster in your breeches.”
She was enchanting to an awkward, backward
nineteen-year-old virgin, and he thought he had found the fountain of erotic
lust right there in the old square. He
followed her home later that night, hiding in the shadows. She stopped and
turned to him at her door, speaking into the shadows.
“You are a pitiful puppy.” She moved to him, reached up and kissed him
on the mouth. She smelled of spices and
rich heady flowers, and his head began to spin.
“Do you want to come in? I’ve seen you following me all night. Have you no girlfriend?” He shook his head ‘no’.
“Why is that? You’re a handsome young man and you have the
smell of the sea in your hair. Did you
not leave a girlfriend behind in America?”
She knew exactly what his problem was; she had seen it in his palm, and
she had read it in his eyes, and in his heart.
He was an abused little boy who knew nothing of love nor pleasure or forgiveness. Here was a very angry young man who needed
and wanted to hurt someone, she could feel it when he walked into the
square. That he was a dangerous young
man challenged her to heal him, arousing her and pulling her into the danger.
She walked inside and held the door for him
to come in. She poured him a drink of
fine rum and showed him to a chair.
Maurice was surprised to see children’s toys and little clothes hanging
on furniture to dry.
“You have children?” Maurice asked dumbfounded that this woman
would have a normal life outside the market.
“I have a little girl, but she’s with my
mother the nights I work.”
“Do I pay you?” He knew he was naive, but it would be nice,
there was no need to think or feel.
“No, my bebe, I’m not a prostitute. I’m a fortune-teller. I don’t want your
money. I want to help you.”
“Help me? I don’t need help!? To whom do you think you’re speaking? I just came in here to buy sex. If that’s not what you do, then I’ll
leave.” He was trying to swim in
mud. He had no real idea why he had followed
her in. But she embarrassed him in his ignorance.
She took his coat, put it across a chair
and offered him the big chair. She gave
him some more rum and sat gently in his lap.
“I allowed you to follow me home, mon ami. I’m lonely and I need a man. I need a kind lover, and I believe that’s
you. The stars sent you to me.”
Her
voice was barely a whisper, and so kind he wanted to cry on her shoulder and
tell her about his life. He looked into
her black eyes and wanted to please her, make her feel safe and take away her
loneliness. He knew about
loneliness. He could write books on
loneliness. He kissed her hard on the mouth, and he thought he might break her
lips as he inhaled the delightful, heady scent of tropical flowers and humid
nights. His erection was uncomfortable.
She pulled away from his mouth and put two
fingers on his lips.
“Shhh not so hard, mon ami; go gently into your kiss.”
She took his mouth and kissed him gently as
she opened his lips with her tongue. He responded for a second, and enjoyed her
soft wet tongue on his, but his mood changed and everything about her made him
angry. How dare this whore tell him how to kiss a woman? He felt the need to punish her for the very
erection he was glad to have. He carried
her to the bed and began taking off her clothes. She was undressing him but he caught her
hands and threw them off. He threw her on the bed and spread her legs. He was too rough, and he didn’t care if she
was lonely or needed a gentle man. He was driving toward a release he had never
had, and he wanted her to suffer for choosing him, and wanting him when he
wasn’t worthy. She needed to be punished
for her choice of lovers. He spent quickly and fell on top of her. The rum and
her scent after his release sent him rushing outside to throw up, but he came
back to bed, and fell into a fitful sleep.
He did not wake until morning when he felt
her mouth on him. He was about to
explode. She was going down on him, swallowing
his erection with her warm, wet mouth. He saw colors and wanted to spend and
she tried to move her head but he wouldn’t allow her to waver from her ‘job’.
He grabbed her head and held it down hard and before he could think, he was
spending in her mouth. She gagged and couldn’t breathe but he was spending more,
and thought it would never stop. He knew
what he had done was wrong, but caring was not part of his nature at the moment. He would pay her if she wanted. He did not know how to please her so he would
offer her money. He could have no
respect for a woman who allowed him to follow her home, and spend in her
mouth. What did she want from him
anyway? She had a child for God’s sake,
what kind of mother was she? He made
some stupid excuse, grabbed his clothes and left. He left money in a little box on the mantle
as he crossed the little sitting room.
By
the time he got back to his ship, he was angry.
He was mad at himself for wanting her, but terrified at the part of
himself that tried to hurt her. He was
confused. She aroused something in him
that made him want more, but he could tell her ,or any woman, the sea was his mistress,
not women or men. He wanted to go back
to his first love, the sea and she would soothe him, and allow him to bury the
feelings Anna had awakened.
There was a knock on Maurice’s cabin door.
The knock woke him from his memory and thrust him into present day. He wiped the tears he had been shedding over
this particular memory and called, “Come in”.
“Will you be wanting dinner, Capt.?” Robert didn’t like disturbing the Captain,
but knew if he didn’t order dinner, he would be hungry later and wonder why it had
not been offered.
“No, Robert, thank you. I have some bread and mutton left from
lunch.”
He went back to his letter writing and tried
to get the memories of his first days with Anna out of his head.
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