East of Orleans (41 page)

Patrick stared at the two women, smiled and nodded.

“He looks so thin,” said Isabella as she and Kate climbed into the buggy. “Don’t he usually work on Saturday’s?”

“He used to. After Jacqueline disappeared he ain’t done much of anything but drink,” said Kate.

“At home or at the tavern?”

“Both. His father and I are worried sick that he’s turning into a drunk; he’s always drinking.”

Unknown to the two women, Patrick followed close behind. A few minutes later, Patrick watched as his mother and Isabella disappeared behind the convent’s massive oak door. Quickly he tied his horse to a post and slipped past one gaslight post after another.

Patrick paused and then entered the convent. He looked around; no one came out to greet him. Relieved, he took a deep breath. Patrick walked around a corner and started down a long hall. He heard the cry of a baby, stopped for a moment, then went a little further. He opened a door and entered the room where the cry came from. He didn’t move, just stood there and stared at Jacqueline with a baby in her arms.

Kate was busy gathering blankets and attempting to make Jacqueline more comfortable. There was a long table on the side of the room with a statue of Mary, baby Jesus and a large gold wooden cross.

“When was it born?” asked Patrick in shock and dismay.

“Yesterday; she’s a month early,” said Isabella.

Patrick walked closer to view the baby. Emotion spread across his face. “Can I hold her?”

“Of course,” said Jacqueline. Jacqueline considered the fact that this could be Patrick’s baby, but she knew in her heart that it was not.

She was tiny, smaller than any baby he had ever remembered. Her hair was full and black and then she opened her eyes and blinked. Patrick’s eyes filled with tears. “Am I her father?” asked Patrick.

Jacqueline smiled. “I wanted to tell you before I left but there was no time. And then Kate and Isabella felt it was much too dangerous to risk my life and the baby’s.”

“I can’t believe the three of you did this,” he narrowed his eyes, “When were you going to tell me?”

Kate walked over to Patrick and the baby. “I don’t think I have ever seen a more beautiful baby; in fact, I know I haven’t. Son, we were going to tell you soon. This was for the best.” The baby opened her eyes and Kate cooed at her.

“Have you named her?” Patrick asked Jacqueline.

Jacqueline reached out her arms for her baby. Kate wrapped a pale pink blanket around the baby and handed her to her mother. Jacqueline cuddled the baby close against her chest. Her eyes met Patrick’s and she said, “Her name is Juliette Isabella.”

“She’s named after me,” beamed Isabella.

Patrick leaned back against the wall and looked at the woman he loved and his beautiful daughter. He knew that he had to make Jacqueline a woman of honor. He was angry that his mother and Isabella had hidden Jacqueline and his baby daughter from him, but he knew there had to be a reason why and a good one.

Committed to her charge, Sister McMillian entered the room and insisted that everyone leave and let Jacqueline rest. Juliette’s birth had not been an easy one; her mother had labored long and hard and they almost lost her.

Patrick followed Jacqueline’s gaze as Sister McMillian took Juliette from the room. He looked around waited until Isabella and his mother were gone, then said gently. “When can you come home?” asked Patrick.

Jacqueline turned her head away from Patrick’s stare. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Who are you afraid of?” asked Patrick.

“There’s things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things, I can’t talk about right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Patrick.

“Things are going to happen, Patrick, and when they do, things are going to be said about me; things I don’t think you want the whole town to hear.”

“It don’t matter, we’ll get through this together,” he said.

“It don’t matter? Do you think that I can make myself invisible in the streets of
Savannah
?” she said.

Patrick looked at her with pleading eyes. “You were a child, bought and sold like a slave. I’m going to hire you the best lawyer in the South,” he said.

“You want Juliette to grow up knowing her mother was a whore!” cried Jacqueline.

“You are no whore. You are no longer that woman and I don’t want to ever hear that from you again.” Patrick placed his hands on Jacqueline’s shoulders. “What would anyone have done in your situation? You were five years old, Jacqueline, when your own mother sold you to the devil! That was not the real Jacqueline; it was a scared, confused little girl. This is the real Jacqueline, the woman that I am holding in my arms, the mother of my precious Juliette, and the only woman I have ever loved. When you are well and out of here, I want to marry you. And nothing and no one will ever come between us again.”

The ceremony was lovely. Jacqueline in her beautiful wedding gown was preceded by two year-old Elora on tiny marching feet. Elora carried a little basket of pink roses sprinkled with baby’s breath, cradled in exquisite lace. The bride’s gown was cream brocade covered with embroidered pearls amidst satin ribbon bows that trimmed a fine border. The neck and sleeves were finished with a silk organdy ruffle. The bustle was high, made of ivory silk taffeta; creating a full, lush effect.

Jacqueline trembled as Patrick lifted the netted veil from her face. And when Father O’Reilly asked for the ring, Patrick placed his grandmother O’Brien’s platinum and diamond ring on Jacqueline’s delicate finger. Soon after Father O’Reilly pronounced Patrick and Jacqueline husband and wife, Patrick whispered to her, “The three of us are now a family, and nothing will separate us, never again, not even death.”

At the same time, over on
Bay Street
, another woman was shaking, but for an entirely different reason. Mae Patterson had arrived in town to see the district attorney of
Effingham
County
. She was there to demand that Jacqueline Rousseau be questioned for the murder of Jacob Hartwell. Jules was at the warehouse going over his books when he heard a knock on the door. Jules removed his spectacles and lay them down on his desk when he heard a voice call his name. He had worried that she might come. Jesse had warned him that Mae was in town, so her visit was no surprise.

Jules opened the door and a whiskey scented Mae moved close to him. Her looks had hardened from when he last saw her, and she stood out from the other women on
Bay Street
. Mae leaned forward and touched Jules’s chest with her bony, jeweled hand. Jules removed her hand and stared into her cold eyes.

“In the name of God, Jules, aren’t you even going to say hello?” said Mae.

“Hello, Mae, it’s good to see you.”

“That’s all you have to say to me?” she said. She hated him, she hated him so much. There was a rage in her eyes. Jules looked down and saw that she had a pistol in her hand.

“Mae, give me the gun. That ain’t gonna solve a thing.”

She clutched the gun and stared hard into Jules’s face, “My boy,” she cried. “She killed my boy!”

Jules’s shoulders dropped and he motioned for Mae to come into his office. She followed him inside and he closed the door. “When did they find him?”

“Late yesterday afternoon,” said Mae.

“Who notified you?” asked Jules. “Where’d they find him?”

Hate burned in her eyes, “Hell, Jules, you know I know people. You forget that I knew the sheriff twenty years ago,” she hesitated, “They found him buried in a swamp between here and Beaufort.”

Jules nodded. “Does Eliza and Rollins know?”

“I went to the bank to see Rollins late yesterday. You know I don’t care one damn bit about Eliza; she never treated Jacob or Catherine like they were her own children. At least I can say Rollins loved them both.”

Jules nodded.

“Is that all you can do is nod? Aren’t you even the least bit upset? Jacob was your son, Jules,” said Mae.

“Don’t you think I know that, Mae. Hell, I gave you plenty of money over the years. I got my sister and brother-in-law to adopt him. Don’t you think I watched that boy every day of his life and wished that it had never happened? I felt responsible for every bad thing that happened in that boy’s life.”

“Oh, Jules, for years I wished things were different between us. There was a time that I thought maybe we had a chance, but then I realized you never cared a thing about me and the only reason you gave me the money was to keep me quiet,” she said.

“There was never a chance anything other than what happened between us was gonna happen. As for me giving you money to keep you quiet, hell, Mae, you know I don’t give a goddamn about what anybody thinks. I gave you the money because I felt bad for you. I thought maybe if you had enough money you would change your life. I wanted that for you, I did,” said Jules.

“Did you ever care anything about me?” asked Mae.

“Yes, Mae, once, a long time ago, but it wasn’t like you wanted. It would have never been like that.”

“You never loved me, did you, Jules?”

“No Mae, I never loved you.”

“That’s not true, you loved me until that whore from
New Orleans
came into our lives,” she screamed.

“I never loved you and it had nothing to do with Jacqueline.”

“It didn’t take that whore long to marry that O’Brien boy, did it? Poor fool, there’s rumors that baby isn’t his,” said Mae.

Mae watched all the color drain from Jules’s face.

“You didn’t know did you? She married him today,” said Mae. “She will get down on her knees and beg for her life, just like my son did.”

“You don’t know, what happened to Jacob, none of us knows the truth,” said Jules.

“I know he was last seen going in Jacqueline’s house and he was never seen alive again. And I also know that little wife of yours was there. You’ll all pay before this is over with. But it’s the whore you love, isn’t it, Jules? You ain’t fooling anybody. You remember that whore’s face and you better see her one last time because soon, she’s gonna leave this earth forever, just like my boy.”

After Mae left, Jules went outside and walked in the cold rain. He wanted it to wash away his pain, anger and sins. But it never would.