East of Orleans (38 page)

When Isabella and Jesse arrived back at the house, Jules had not come home from playing poker. “Wherse you two been?” Asked Priscilla.

“Why you need to know?” Asked Jesse.

“Lawd, dere’s been a ruckus!”

“Whatcha mean?” asked Jesse.

“I’se mean de sheriff from Beaufort he done sent one of his boys over. Somebody set Mister Jules’s fields on fire. Dere wasn’t nothing I could do. Dere weren’t nobody here to go find Mister Jules and Ise worried myself to death bout all night. Wherese de two of you been?”

Isabella broke into sobs.

“What’s the matter? Lawd, ain’t anybody gonna tell me a thang!”

“It’s Isabella’s baby,” whispered Jesse.

“What ‘bout it?”

“She’s lost it,” said Jesse.

Priscilla looked at Jesse with stunned eyes and then turned to Isabella. “Carry her to the bed, get her off her feet. Has you seen Doc Chandler?” asked Priscilla.

“I’se going fo him now,” said Jesse.

“I seen it all,” said Patrick. “Where were you last night?”

“Well, if you seen it all, why don’t
you
tell me where I was?” Jacqueline’s green eyes blended in with her sallow skin. She felt sick to her stomach.

“I saw you get out of Jules McGinnis’s carriage just now. What were you doing in it?”

Jacqueline hated lying to Patrick, but even more, she hated the idea that she could lose her house and be thrown into the streets to starve. Jacqueline had rehearsed it many times; she saw it all, and she lived it day after day. A woman with Jacqueline’s past never felt secure and trust was a luxury she could not afford. Suppose she had to start over again? Being forced to drug and rob men, and madams depending on her for money. She wanted desperately to start over. Jacqueline glanced at Patrick, he had money, not as much as Jules, but enough to keep her safe and off the streets. But she did not love Patrick, well, that wasn’t entirely true, she did love him, just not in the same way that she loved Jules McGinnis. But she could not think about that, for many reasons; Jules was not the kind of man that a smart woman should allow herself to love. He was dangerous and no one knew this better than Jacqueline Rousseau. It was ironic, because Jules had said the same thing about her. So often Jacqueline heard Jules tell her that it was dangerous for a man to fall in love with a woman like her. And here, now, stood a man before her, a good man, from one of the most respectable families in
Savannah
, and he loved her. She could break Patrick’s heart and lie to him or she could start fresh and tell him the truth. Besides, he would stand beside her and protect her. It was time for her to recognize the opportunity in front of her. Besides she wasn’t getting any younger.

“Patrick, I want you to sit down; there’s something I have to tell you.” Jacqueline took a deep breath. “I was in Beaufort last night and helped burn a field of cotton.”

Patrick looked stunned. “You did what? Why don’t you just tell me that you rode with the Klan last night? Jacqueline, are you goddamn crazy? I’m scared to ask—what else did you do?”

“I pawned the ring that Jules gave me,” she said.

“Oh well, what’s pawning a little ring after committing a crime like arson? Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t actually burn the field myself; I just didn’t do anything to stop Isabella.”

“Well, at least you’re giving me a case I can build on. I feel so much better now. Jacqueline, what in God’s name were you thinking!” Patrick screamed. “Somehow, I know I don’t want to hear the answer to this question, but whose field did Isabella and her partner in crime burn?”

“Jules’s,” said Jacqueline.

“Jules,” Patrick nodded and said with folded arms, narrowing his eyes. “What, did you girls just get bored and decide you’d go out and pawn some jewelry and then burn a field of cotton?”

“It wasn’t like that,” said Jacqueline.

“No, I didn’t think it was going to be something that simple. Why don’t you sit down and tell me from beginning to end what happened last night. And Jacqueline, I want the truth, every detail.”

“Yes,” she said. “I understand?”

“Good, now start talking.” Jacqueline’s black cat sat watching, never taking his eyes off his mistress swishing his tail back and forth.

It was late afternoon when Dr. Chandler left the house on
Monterrey
. He ordered strict bed rest for Isabella and for her not to return to her usual activities for six more weeks. When the doctor had gone, Jules did nothing but sit in his chair and stare straight ahead for over an hour.

Isabella lay quietly, wondering what it felt like to be the husband of a woman who did not want him. They didn’t talk that night. An occasional door slamming was the only sound Isabella heard. With bent knees, Isabella finally fell asleep, both thankful and devastated that she had lost the baby.

Jules sat on the back porch, taking an occasional swig from a bottle of whiskey and right before passing out, turning it up and drinking the entire bottle.

When Isabella heard a loud knock on the front door, it was two in the morning. At first, she thought she was dreaming, but then she heard a man’s voice ask for Jules. It was Hoyt.

The next morning, Isabella awoke to Hoyt’s words. He had been there all night. Jules’s voice grew louder with each question. Isabella lay still, frozen with fear. Then, slowly she got up out of bed and dressed. Quickly, Isabella slipped down the hall, stopping outside Jules’s study. She leaned against the study door and listened.

“How many times do I have to tell you this story; hell, I’ve been here for hours. What part do you want to hear again?” asked Hoyt.

“Are you sure it was Isabella and Jacqueline?” said Jules.

“Hell, boss, I was right there with them.”

Isabella’s face grew hot. This was her house and that lying man was not telling her husband the truth. Or was he? She knew Hoyt had been nowhere in sight, he was not right there with them. But was he hiding somewhere? Was he in one of the sharecropper’s cabin’s daring them not to utter a sound? She listened in fear as Hoyt spoke.

“I would have thought a lot of things about Jacqueline, but I would have never expected Isabella to do a thing like that. I can’t imagine why.” Jules shook his head slowly. “I’d gotten use to her being outspoken, hell, she’s the one woman that spoke her mind and I actually listened. After all I’ve done for her, why? And how did those two get tangled up with each other?”

“What are you going to do with them?” asked Hoyt.

Jules looked at Hoyt hard, with a hurt face.

“Give them to me, boss.”

“What you gonna do with them?” asked Jules.

Hoyt smiled. “Just give them to me, boss, and me and the boys will take care of them.”

“I won’t be needing you and your boys, Hoyt. I’ll handle Mrs. McGinnis.”

“And the whore?” asked Hoyt.

Isabella’s stomach growled, she felt lightheaded and weak. She held her stomach and leaned against the door. She heard Jules speak again. “I would have thought it was the goddamn niggers,” he said.

“I’m sure that’s what the two of them wanted you to think,” said Hoyt. “What about the whore?”

Jules looked up at Hoyt and grabbed him by the arm. “Get her out of the house on Oglethorpe. But that’s it, you hear me? Don’t bother her; you lay a hand on her and I’ll kill you. I swear to God, if you harm her in any way, I’ll kill you.” Jules walked around to the back of his desk and poured a glass of whiskey.

Isabella heard Hoyt’s boots coming toward the door. She turned and ran down the hall. She was in a panic. It was clear to her, she had to go to Jacqueline and warn her. Isabella walked into the kitchen and the morning newspaper was lying on the table. The headlines read:
Savannah
Cotton Broker’s Field Burned in Beaufort! “Oh my God,” she whispered. She thought about the women in Beaufort and wondered if they were safe. She shuddered at the thought. Priscilla came in the back door with a pan of string beans in her hands.

Priscilla glanced at Isabella with pity. “You ain’t supposed to be out of dat bed. Dr. Chandler he say he forbid you to get out of dat bed for at least two days.”

“I heard him,” said Isabella.

“I thought you were sleeping,” said Priscilla.

Isabella looked at Priscilla. “Where’s Jesse?”

“What you need him fo’?”

“It ain’t none of your business.”

“I guess not, but you gonna get him killed,” said Priscilla.

“If you got something against me, why don’t you just come out and say it?” Isabella shot back.

“You sit here in dis nice pretty house not caring a thing about anyone but you self. You don’t care a thing about Mister Jules and you don’t care a thing about Jesse.”

“I don’t need you telling me what and who I care about!” screamed Isabella as she walked out the kitchen. She had her face in her hands, crying, when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be in de bed?” asked Jesse.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” said Isabella.

“You can’t leave here now. You know what the doc said.”

“You don’t understand. I think I’m in danger and you need to take me to Jacqueline.”

“Now, dis is one time I ain’t taking you anywhere. You know what doc
Chandler
say. You want me to go get him and bring him back over here?” asked Jesse.

“All I want you to do is quit talking. I’m tired of everybody telling me what I need to do,” said Isabella. “Jacqueline needs me and I believe the Lord intends for me to help her.”

“I don’t think that’s what the Lord intends. He intends for you to stay alive and not be trying to get youself killed,” said Jesse.

Isabella held her hand to her abdomen. She felt dizzy and in pain, the room started to spin around. She grabbed Jesse’s arm and held on as long as she could and then she passed out. Jesse lifted her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.

Later that evening, Hoyt got the chance he had been waiting for. Jacqueline and Patrick had been arguing for hours, and then Patrick started to drink. The more he drank the more questions he asked Jacqueline about her relationship with Jules. The more questions he asked, the more suspicious and jealous he became the more Jacqueline still had feelings for Jules McGinnis, and Patrick hated that fact. Patrick flopped down on the sofa, glared at Jacqueline and said, “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

“I told you.”

“I think you are lying.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe, to make me feel better,” said Patrick as he got up and stormed out of the house.