East of Orleans (27 page)

Weeks passed before Jesse came to see Isabella. His soft dark eyes flashed anger, but it was obvious he was hurt. Silas, an old Negro porter who had worked for Jules for years, ushered Jesse into Jules’s study where Isabella was busy going through her husband’s business records. Isabella turned as Jesse entered without a coat and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I guess sometime you think people got everything and den you see dey done forgot everything dey wuz raised on.”

“You don’t understand. Time was wastin.” Said Isabella, blinking away the tears.

“Don’t know why any of dat matters. Looks like to me you done put all dat behind you.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Isabella. Jesse’s shoulders slumped and his head bowed.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Isabella pleaded.

His head came up slowly. “You run off and marry a man old enough to be your daddy and you tell me not to be mad?” Jesse shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. “Look at you! What’d you do, sell yourself to him? Ise so stupid I guess I thought white women didn’t let demselves get sold.”

Isabella got up and slapped Jesse hard across the face. “Oh Jesse, what have I done?” she cried. Isabella saw the gentle look on his dark face.

“Don’t you know that sometimes a woman has to do whatever she can to survive? I am neither pure nor sacred. Besides, why does it always have to be one way or another? What else could I do? I know what you’re thinking—I’m no better than those prostitutes that ladies cross the street to get away from. Don’t you think I tried to think of another way? I did, but there just wasn’t one.”

Jesse gave her a sharp look and said, “Nice girls just don’t do things like dis.”

“Nice girls? Don’t you know I wasn’t a nice girl anymore when mama and granny sent me away? Look, I’m gonna fight hard to get myself out of this mess. If I lay down, I’m gonna be just like them Confederate men daddy talked about that walked and walked until they finally couldn’t walk no more, and they had to lay down and then they died. I ain’t gonna lay down and die, Jesse.”

“It’s done. There ain’t a thing we can do.” Jesse removed a folded envelope from his vest pocket. “This came for you today.”

Isabella sat down in a red velvet chair, unfolded the envelope, removed the letter and read it. “It’s from mama,” she said. Jesse began to notice the fear in her face.

“What duz it say?”

“Granny’s sick and mama thinks I should come home.”

“I suppose we should get ready to go.”

“I suppose. You feeling okay? You look like a starved scarecrow,” said Isabella.

Jesse’s old smile came back. “We gonna go home.” Isabella glanced at him.

“It will kill Granny when she finds out what I’ve done.”

“Not if youse brave and tell her how much you love Mister Jules. When Granny sees dat you done got yourself a rich husband, den she ain’t as liable to worry.”

“Granny’s sick, Jesse, she ain’t dead. You know as well as me that Granny would know I was trying to pull the wool over her eyes.”

“Don’t you love Mister Jules just a little bit?”

“Love him? For heaven’s sakes, no, Jesse. What on earth would make you think such a thing? There ain’t a thing about a man like Jules McGinnis that would make me want to love him for a moment. Why, if he had an honorable intention in his soul, he would have just given me the money that I needed to pay off mama and granny’s debt. Love him? Hah! I’m gonna work as fast as I can to find a good reason to get myself out of this mess. And there’s got to be one.” Isabella thought for a moment in silence. Oh, how she wanted to go home, She missed the rich north
Georgia
soil and Tom. Oh, how she missed Tom. Suddenly, the pain disappeared from her face and she mustered a smile.

“What you thinking ‘bout?” asked Jesse with narrowed eyes.

“I ain’t thinking about a thing; not a thing I care for you to know, but I might tell you if you promise you won’t tell a soul.”

“I promise.”

“Not Kate or Charlie, not anyone?”

“Not dem either.”

“You swear on your pa’s grave, Jesse Rucker?”

“I swear.”

Isabella walked over and closed the door behind them. She looked out the window and saw a Negro pull a crate of potatoes out of a buggy. She then pulled Jesse to a corner. He stared at her, bewildered.

“My husband has a whore that he keeps in a house over on Oglethorpe,” Isabella said in a tone barely above a whisper.

“How you know?”

“I heard him.”

“How dat happen?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout how it happened and how I heard it, but I’m awful glad I did.”

“So? Besides you shouldn’t say such things.”

“What you mean so? Can’t you see this is a way out of this mess? That woman on Oglethorpe is my way back home. As for me not saying such things, I will say as I please. Jules McGinnis may think he owns me, but there ain’t nobody ever gonna take my mind.” Isabella smiled a satisfied smile.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Miz Bella, you done lost your mind, forget taking it. Don’t you know mens been having whores and wives as long as there’s been both. And a man like Mister Jules, there ain’t a soul that would not expect him to have one without the other.”

Jesse’s words infuriated her. “I don’t know why I told you a thing. I should have known better than to expect you to understand. You’re a man and you’re all the same. But you better keep your promise and not breathe a word. I’ll die before I spend many more nights in this house with the likes of a man like Jules McGinnis.”

Isabella turned to Jesse with a look of urgency. “You know where that woman lives?”

“No, and I ain’t gonna be finding out.”

“Oh yes, you are! Jesse, please do this for me. Just find out who she is and where she lives and I promise I won’t never cause you a moment’s trouble, not ever again. If you don’t this for me, well, I have no choice but to find her on my own.”

Jesse turned away nothing Isabella said seemed to surprise him anymore. Isabella noticed how bony his shoulders were. “Okay, I’ll find her after we get back from Shakerag, but only if you promise me dat you’ll make Granny think dat you married Mister Jules for love. If you don’t make her believe dat, den you might as well go ahead and throw the dirt on her grave.”

Jesse looked hard at Isabella. “Dat means even if Tom comes around.”

“Even that.” Isabella said with a dart of pain.

While Isabella prepared for her return home, in
Forsyth
Park
ladies with white parasols and dresses of spring could be heard discussing the arrival of new “Yankee types.” They shared how their grandmother’s silver had been buried and abandoned under rose bushes, most of which had never been recovered. Broken laughter was heard as gentlemen tipped their hats to the ladies as they passed by in their carriages.

Over on Oglethorpe, Annalee Hancock could be seen in hours of chatter alongside her iron gate with Lucy Baker. The goings-on of both neighborhoods made
Forsyth
Park
a very social place. And it was greening and flowering up. Magnolias, gardenias, crepe myrtle, and, of course, the much prized Confederate rose. The
Savannah
sun shone on houses with tiers of columns, cool galleries, and ladies relaxed on verandahs.

Many a Southern banquet could be observed spread across mahogany tables, as always a multi-course affair. A proper Southern mistress always surveyed her garden party, waiting for just the proper time to ascend. Music could be heard rising from the music room of successful cotton merchants and businessmen.
Savannah
was in her time of elegance.

On the night before Isabella was to depart for Shakerag, she invited Kate and Mr. O’Brien to have dinner at the house on
Monterrey
. Kate insisted that on her first visit home that Isabella should leave the baby with her, but Isabella made it clear that Elora would make the trip with her and Jesse.

They dined on baked ham, candied yams, corn, green beans and a blackberry cobbler that Kate had brought. Throughout dinner, Jules and Mr. O’Brien talked about the war and the economy of
Savannah
. Isabella didn’t understand why all men ever wanted to talk about was war. Was that all men thought about—war and sex? She remembered when her daddy talked about her grandpa fighting the Indians in
South Georgia
. That’s where he met her great-grandmother; she had a French last name, but rumor was she was a Creek Indian and they tried to hide the fact by giving her another name. Isabella wondered why people spent so much time trying to cover up the truth. It just complicated matters. How stupid people were! Isabella looked over at Jules and thought about the whore he kept on Oglethorpe. Of course, her life it could be worse. She knew that the house she sat in that night was a long way from Shakerag and she knew that she ought to be grateful. She glanced at Elora tottering around in the dining room. She watched Jules in deeply animated conversation and she knew he had begun to give her a life that she once could only dream of. She hadn’t forgotten the many hours that Lettie forced her to work like a slave in the tavern. However, the truth was she would never have married Jules McGinnis if she had not been in such a desperate situation. She didn’t wish him ill—she only wanted to pack her things and return home to the only man she had ever loved. But she was married now and now she had to play by the rules.

Kate noticed a long baroque strand of pearls on Isabella’s neck. “Isabella, darling, what beautiful pearls. Were they a gift?”

Jules raised his eyes and glanced with a hint of sarcasm across the table at his young wife. “I chose the pearls when we were in
New Orleans
.”

Isabella gave Jules a sharp look.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Jules asked.

Isabella’s face grew red with anger.
I’ve
married
a
man
that
I
do
not
love
,
that’s
what’s
wrong!
she wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I sit in this house all day without much more to do than look pretty and help prepare my husband’s next meal.” Isabella paused. “I don’t want to join some dumb garden club or learn to cross stitch with that meddling woman next door. If I ever ask a question about your business, you laugh at me and tell me that ain’t something for me to concern myself with. What is there around here for me to concern myself with other than you, Jules?” Isabella jumped up from the table and ran to her bedroom in tears.