The Immortelles (20 page)

Two weeks after his announcement, Jeff said, “Charissa, I won't sell the house if you want to stay here. It's really as much yours as it is mine, but I keep hoping that you'll change your mind.”

After that conversation, Charissa began to pray frequently. She knew little about prayer. She had heard a sermon on it, had read in the Gospels and Paul's writings about the power of prayer, but she had not experienced it herself. Now she prayed passionately, asking God to do
something
. She did not know exactly what, but she knew that she was about to lose someone she treasured. At times, she cried out for God to change Jeff 's mind and make him see her as a woman, but this did not happen. She grew despondent, and in the middle of July when Jeff was making his final plans, she grew desperate. She had read of fasting, and for two days she did not eat a bite and prayed almost constantly.

Late that Thursday night, she was on her knees, seeking God, when she suddenly seemed to collapse inwardly. Her face was pressed against the bed where she knelt, and she felt that she had done all she could. She said, “Oh, Father, I don't know how to pray any more, but I know that the Savior asked that Your will be done. So, that's what I pray: Let Your will be done.” She stayed on her knees for a time, then rose, walked to the window, and looked out into the darkness. “Your will be done,” she said. “And, Lord, I'm asking You to give me some sign about what I should do. I'm weak. I can't make this decision. If You want me to go to New Orleans with Jeff, I ask You to send somebody to tell me so.”

As soon as she had prayed this, she shook her head. “That's a foolish prayer,” she muttered. She crawled into bed and tried to sleep.

Charissa stayed in her room most of the day. She had broken her fast but continued to say the simple prayer, “God, Your will be done.” After supper, she listened as Jeff explained, with some excitement, the great things the practice in New Orleans held for him. She tried to show interest but was glad when he rose to go to his study.

“I wish you were going with me, Charissa,” he said. He went over, and as he often did, he put his hand on her head. He admired her hair, so black and sleek. He held his hand there for a moment and then turned abruptly and left the room.

Charissa went to bed as well, but at ten o'clock she grew thirsty. The pitcher was empty on her washstand, so she took it down to the kitchen. She was filling it up with cool water when Olga came into the room. “You're up late, Charissa! I thought you had gone to bed.”

“I did, but I got thirsty and didn't have any water.”

Olga waited until Charissa had filled the pitcher. She said, “You know, I tink all the time about how gute you were for Dr. Irving.”

“He was the one who was good.”

Olga hesitated, then put her arm around Charissa. She had never done this before. Charissa saw that the older woman was worried, and she asked, “What is it, Olga?”

“Oh, nothing. But I haf learned to loff you, too, during the time you've been here. I know—” She shook her head. “I know you're vorried about Jefferson leaving. I don't meddle in people's lives, Charissa, but when I vas praying for you tonight in my room, the strangest notion came into my mind.”

Charissa stood still. “What was that, Olga?”

“I feel that God wants you to go to New Orleans.”

Shock ran through Charissa. She could not speak.

“How you must hate it when people tell you what to do.”

“No, no, that's not so. Olga, let me tell you what I've been praying.” Words tumbled out, and she ended by saying, “And so, God has given me exactly what I need.”

“So, you vill go to New Orleans?”

“Yes, I will.”

Mrs. Shultz stepped back then, but she took Charissa's hand. “Tell me—you loff Jefferson?” When she saw the girl drop her eyes, she said, “Oh, he does not know it. Men are stupid, but I haf seen it. Ve vill pray, you and I, that God vill open his blind eyes and see what a pearl has been hidden here.” She put her hands on Charissa's cheeks, and her eyes burned with an unusual light. “And when he sees this pearl, he vill sell all he has to get it!”

The next morning, as soon as Jeff walked out of his bedroom, he met Charissa. She was smiling, and her eyes were bright with hope. He asked, “What in the world is it, Charissa?”

“I've come to tell you something. I'm going to New Orleans with you, Jefferson.”

“You are? That's splendid!” He suddenly reached out, put both arms around her, and picked her up off the floor. He swung her around several times until she grew dizzy and then put her down and kissed her on the cheek. “You've made me so happy, sister!”

“I am not your sister, Jefferson.”

Jeff was too excited to hear her comment. “We'll leave as soon as we can find work for the servants. I've already got a buyer for the house. Tell you what: Let's go shopping and buy you some outrageous clothes.”

“And you, too, Jeff.”

“All right. If you say so.” He was almost giddy. He took her hand and said ecstatically, “We're going to bust New Orleans wide open, sister—” He shook his head and laughed. “I mean Miss Charissa Desjardin.”

“You're here at last!” Elmo Debakky
exclaimed. He had opened the door to find Jeff and Charissa standing outside. He grabbed Jeff by the hand, pulled him in, and then turned to Charissa and took her hand as well. “Welcome to New Orleans.”

Jeff and Charissa had discussed living in Debakky's house. In truth, it was an enormous house, but Charissa felt it might present problems. Jeff, however, had convinced her, and now Debakky's delight was evident.

“I'm glad you're here. I've rattled around this old barn so long by myself, it'll be good to have someone to have fuss with. We might as well have our first one right now.”

“It's a bit soon, isn't it, Dr. Debakky?”

“Just Elmo, Charissa, when we're all alone. Later on, when people are around, we'll be a little more formal. No, it's not too soon. I always say, have an argument as quick as you can, and get it out of the away. Then we'll all kiss and make up.”

“What are we going to argue about?” Jeff smiled. He was pleased to be in New Orleans. He had been in such a turmoil, getting affairs closed up and then making the move, but now that he was there, he was happy to see his friend and felt that he had made the right choice.

“There's a ball tonight, one of those fancy affairs that I usually hate, but I got a new suit, and I'm going to wear it, and you two are going with me.”

“Oh, I'm sure Charissa's too tired for that. It's been a hard trip,” Jeff protested.

“Nonsense. She looks fresh as the morning breeze. If you don't have a dress, we have time to go buy one.”

“I have a dress, Elmo,” Charissa said, “but I'm not sure I should go.”

“Of course you should go. We'll break in those new clothes we bought at home,” Jeff said.

“It's not the same in St. Louis. Nobody knew me there. But I've got a past here.”

“Forget the past!” Elmo shouted. He was pacing, rubbing his hands together. “I'm introducing you two to New Orleans tonight.” He punched Jeff on the shoulder and said, “I'll introduce you as my new partner, the second-best physician in New Orleans.” He turned to Charissa and said, “And I'll introduce you as Miss Charissa Desjardin, the toast of St. Louis now come to grace the city of New Orleans. It'll be a ball to remember!”

The mayor of New Orleans sponsored the ball, and he spared no expense. The ballroom itself was a marvel. It was a large, grand room painted a brilliant white, with a high ceiling that featured three huge crystal and gold chandeliers. Enormous white columns encircled the room, and the white, highly glossed marble floor showed tiny, sparkling flecks of gold. On every wall behind the columns were floor-length windows that were covered with dark crimson drapes, and finely upholstered chairs had been set along two of the walls. At the far end of the room, a small orchestra was playing soft, enchanting music, and the rustle of women dancing in their brilliantly colored dresses made an inviting sound.

Damita was having a wonderful time. She was waltzing with Lewis Depard, and the admiration in his eyes was pleasing to her. He had been pursuing her rather steadily for some time, and once, she knew, he had almost mentioned the word
marriage.
But Lewis Depard had escaped many “permanent arrangements.” As they spun around the floor, Damita was happy that he seemed to be more enamored of her than he was of his usual pursuits, though this did not mean much.

“You look beautiful, Damita.”

“Thank you, Lewis. So do you.”

“Oh, don't be foolish!”

“You
are
beautiful. You're a handsome man. I think when I get married, I want to marry someone just like you.” Damita laughed when she saw the expression freeze on his face. “Don't worry, Lewis, I'm not pursuing or proposing to you. It would be fun, though, if I could bring a suit of breach of promise. Why don't you ask me to marry you, and give me that opportunity?” She laughed again at his expression and said, “But wait until there are witnesses.”

“You are a minx, Damita! I never know how to take you. I suppose that's why I keep coming back for more.”

The two continued their dance, and then Damita exclaimed, “Why, look, it's Jefferson Whitman! Come along. He wrote me he was coming back to New Orleans, but I didn't expect to see him here tonight.”

The two left the dance floor, making their way between the dancers, and Jeff stepped forward, his eyes lighting up. As Damita held her hand out, he took it and held it as if he didn't know what to do with it. “You're supposed to kiss my hand, Jeff.”

Jeff did so awkwardly. “I guess I'll have to take lessons in New Orleans manners now that I'm here.”

“It's wonderful to see you. May I present Lewis Depard?”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Depard.”

“And you, Doctor. So, you've moved to New Orleans. There's always room for another doctor. Maybe you can stop this yellow fever from killing so many people.”

“I don't claim to have that kind of skill, but I certainly want to do my best.”

Suddenly, Jeff seemed to remember something. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I have someone with me you will remember, Damita.” He turned and said, “Charissa, come here.” She had been standing slightly behind him, watching the scene, and now she advanced.

Damita stared at Charissa. She would never have known her. She had seen her only in the rags of a slave girl, a sixteen-year-old one at that. This woman—this lovely woman—was mature and refined in every sense. She managed to say, “Welcome to New Orleans, Charissa.”

“Are you going to introduce me?” Lewis asked. The beauty of the woman had impressed him, and he smiled with anticipation.

“I'm sorry,” Jeff said. “May I present Miss Charissa Desjardin. This is Mr. Lewis Depard.”

Charissa curtsied, and Depard bowed from the waist in a skilled fashion. “I am happy to welcome you. Is your family in New Orleans?”

“Dr. Whitman is my brother,” she said.

“Oh, I see. In that case, I will ask his permission to dance with you.”

“Of course,” Jeff said. Lewis led Charissa to the dance floor and swung her around gracefully, saying, “Will you be staying with your brother?”

“Yes, I will, Mr. Depard. I work with him, as his nurse.”

“You don't say! I never had a nurse who looked as pretty as you.”

Charissa moved around the floor lightly, listening as Depard flirted with her. He was so obvious about it, but then most men were.
He came after me as soon as he saw me,
she thought.
I wonder what he would do if I told him I was the former slave of Damita de Salvedo y Madariaga. She'll tell him soon enough, and then we'll see.

Damita had watched the two walk away, and then Jeff said, “It's so good to see you.”

But Damita was staring at Lewis and Charissa. “You didn't tell me she had grown up to be such an attractive young lady.”

“She is, isn't she? I hope you'll be able to forget the old times and treat her as a friend.”

“That will be difficult, Jeff, for both of us.”

Jeff shifted his weight and started running his fingers through his hair, but Charissa had warned him sternly about this and he stopped. “I'm such an awkward fellow, Damita.”

“An awkward doctor?” Damita smiled. “That could be dangerous, if you were cutting someone open.”

“Oh, I don't mean that way. I mean with women. I just have never learned the knack of
dealing with them.”

“I'm surprised at that.”

“You know how we Americans are,” he said, “Pretty rough-hewn.”

Damita glanced once again at the couple on the floor. It was hard for her to concentrate on what Jeff was saying. She could not get over the sight of Charissa Desjardin.

“What I'm saying is—would it be all right if I called on you, Damita?”

Damita was not at all surprised. On his two trips to New Orleans, he had attempted to court her. She had given him little enough encouragement, but he was a stubborn young man. Though his letters had been nothing like love letters, as she looked up at him and saw his eagerness, she smiled. “Of course. We are living in our town house, Jeff. Come to dinner next Wednesday.”

Jeff could hardly keep still in the buggy, but Charissa was quiet. She had danced every dance, because the young men were drawn to her. Lewis had danced with her three times and tried his best to get permission to call on her. She had simply said, “You'll have to ask my brother.”

Jeff was drumming his fingers on his knees, a sure sign he was excited, and he said, “That young man Lewis, what's his name—Depard? He's a wild fellow.”

“Yes. He asked if he could call on me.”

Jeff stopped smiling. “What'd you tell him?”