Lies Agreed Upon (15 page)

“Well, Emily was a gentle soul.” Sam pondered a
little more and added, “After Guy, she was kinda overcome by grief. She useta ax me, ‘Why’d a bullet hit Guy’s heart and miss mine?’ She even felt guilty for takin’ comfort in a baby Guy’s never gonna see. They all was feelin’ guilty—Desmond for outlivin’ his twin, and Dad and Cee for takin’ no joy in the cripple son they still got. Joanne was a ray of sunshine in that house. I never seen her naughty or pouty. She’s smart and always readin’, mos’ly fairy stories. She did real pretty pictures—flowers, rainbows and such.”

“I can’t imagine it. My mother became so practical, so tough and outspoken as an adult,” marveled Tess. She had assumed that Sam would use a word like “spunky” to describe the young Joanne; that child would have been a believable predeces
sor of the mother she had known—not a dreamy girl offering up crayoned rainbows.

“You didn’t really know me, did you?”

“Well, experience can
change folks,” remarked Sam, leaning back placidly with clasped hands relaxed on his midriff.

“What about my grandfather Guy’s murder? Do you know anything about that? Is there someone you suspect?” Tess prodded in frustration.

“I jus’ know the same story like in the papers,” sighed Sam.

“Can you describe my grandfather?” asked Tess. “My mother and grandmother said he was a good man and a good doctor. Why would someone kill a man like that?”

“Oh, it’s hard to imagine who woulda kilt Guy,” agreed Sam. “He was a real nice boy. Hard-workin’ and respec’ful. The hospital peoples jus’ love him. He had trouble with the Donovans ’cause of the feud. But there’s no blamin’ Dylan or Desmond. One’s dead and one’s a cripple when Guy got shot.”

“It sounds as if you knew my grandfather and grandmother pretty well. Why were you so close?”
probed Tess, hoping Sam would not take her to another dead end.

“Oh, now that story goes way back to Solange. And that’s one
mystery I can solve,” said Sam. He suddenly grinned wide and looked beyond Tess. “And here’s coffee to gimme some energy.”

Tess looked over her shoulder and saw a disgruntled looking Jon exit the kitchen with an old aluminum coffee pot and three mismatched ceramic mugs on a tray.

“Now pull up a chair, Jon, and take a little gout,” said Sam. (Tess assumed gout meant taste.) “I’m startin’ to tell young Tess here about Grammaw Solange.”

Mollified, Jon placed the tray on a plastic stool between their knees and pulled another white plastic chair forward for himself. He began to pour cream-laced coffee into the mugs, spooning sugar into his own and his grandfather’s. Sam lifted his coffee mug and began to sip gingerly at the steaming liquid.

“It must be an amazing story that ties your grandmother Solange to a relationship between you and Guy Cabrera 100 years later,” Tess remarked to urge Sam onward.

“
Yeah, you right. Family can s’prise you,” Sam responded with a mild smile. “Lemme tell you what my poppa useta always say about Solange. She was a beauty—tall with a fine figure and wavy black hair. She got a husky voice and sweet smile to heat up any man not too old or too young. And she got power in her green eyes to conjure any man, or woman, to her will.”

“Green eyes!” Tess exclaimed and blushed at the curious look from Jon. “So there was no darker side to her charm?” she
asked, struck by the old man’s serene certainty. “Mr. Dreux said Solange was a ‘conjure woman’ who sold gris-gris charms and put a curse on Paul Arnoult. And Lillian Vanderveld said Solange was a voodoo witch who not only helped Josephine get rid of her babies but helped Thérèse drug, and maybe even poison, Louis Cabrera’s wife Marie. I mean, it seems Solange had a strange hold on all her white mistresses. Where there’s so much smoke, there’s got to be a little fire!”

“Jus’ lies,” Sam
declared. “Solange got skills in nature healin’, and her cures work better than lotta doctors’ poison. She can read signs and dreams and see the future clearer than mos’. Maybe she respec’ Baron Samedi, but she ain’t no mambo axin’ the loa to ride her and wavin’ snake Zombie. She got no truck with the hoodoo they sell tourists in the Quarter. Lemme tell the whole story. Then you judge the truth.”

At his slow wheezy pace, Sam began to relate the strange history of Solange Beauvoir
. Solange was the child of a free colored servant of the white Deschesnes family, who fled to New Orleans after the slave revolt in Saint-Domingue, now Haiti. When Amélie Deschesnes married Paul Arnoult, she brought teenage Solange along to act as her lady’s maid. Amélie was sickly and very dependent on the servant, physically and emotionally. Paul Arnoult was not happy with Solange’s influence, but he came to appreciate her value to his frail wife when Amélie, who longed for motherhood, failed to conceive. Paul Arnoult begged Solange to use her skills, and soon Amélie was expecting.

Arnoult exiled his pregnant wife
for her health by sending her to relatives in St. Louis, far from any dangerous swamp fevers. And he sent Solange along to care for the delicate Amélie. Paul joined the two women for the birth and came back to announce the arrival of his baby daughter Thérèse.

Many months later, a riverboat arrived at the Arnoult plantation, and Solange hopped out with rosy Thérèse in her arms. But Amélie was so weak
that the servants had to carry her to the big house.

“Amélie’s lookin’ closer to
the dead than the livin’,” said Sam with a solemn shake of his head. “She’s gone in a month. Then Paul told Solange to clear off.”

“Why? To stop her from using her ‘
voodoo’ powers on the child?” asked Tess.

“No, Solange got a hold on that baby that’s nothin’ to do with
voodoo. See, Baby Thérèse got black wavy hair and pretty green eyes—jus’ like Solange. Yeah, you guessin’ the secret,” grinned Sam as he watched Tess’s eyes widen, “Ole Paul knowed peoples gonna be quick to call Solange the real momma when they see her and Thérèse side by side. So he orders Solange to go. Only Solange won’t run like a kicked dog. Paul Arnoult’s got all his fine white frien’s in the parlor when she marches in. ‘You act like God throwin’ Eve outta the Garden to suffer,’ she says. ‘Well, I been sufferin’ here, so it’s no worse for me. Anyways, Eve and her chirren lost the Garden and got the whole world—same as gonna happen here. Now my blood’s gonna rule your land and make it our garden.’ Then she walks out, holdin’ her head high.”

“So the ‘voodoo curse’
that Dreux mentioned wasn’t a curse at all. And Solange was Thérèse’s mother. Was Paul Arnoult even her father?” Tess asked.

“Solange and Amélie both
got pregnant by Paul, and he sent them away together,” Sam nodded. “Solange got her baby firs’, and she’s a healthy li’l girl. Then come Amélie’s baby—a li’l boy but stillborn. Amélie’s cryin’ day and night, and nothin’ and nobody can comfort her. Paul got desperate to ease her misery. He can see baby Thérèse is so fair she can pass for white. She can pass that old paper-bag test f’sure. So they all made a bargain to say Thérèse was Amélie’s chile.”

“What’s the paper-bag test?” interposed Tess.

“Racial mixing was common here prior to the Civil War, and it produced many people with only a little African ancestry, who could ‘pass’ as white,” Jon broke in to explain. “Back when there were whites-only clubs, they used to let folks in if their skin tone was lighter than a paper bag, and hence the paper-bag test.”

“Wasn’t Amélie upset her husband cheated on her with Solange?” wondered Tess.

“Lotta Creole men got a plaçage mistress and wives turnin’ a blind eye. ’Sides, Amélie wanna hold a baby more than a husband,” Sam answered.

“Then did Solange love Paul, at least before he kicked her out? And how could she bear to be parted from her child?” Tess
probed.

“Oh, Solange like
s that Paul, but she gotta do what’s right for herself and her baby,” said Sam. “And Paul Arnoult paid for her sacrifice. Right after Paul put her out, his neighbor Josephine took Solange for her lady’s maid ’cause of Solange’s skill in hair-dressin’ and such. But after Josephine died, Paul deeded Solange this house that the Beauvoirs still own.”

“What
did Solange do after Josephine died?” Tess asked.

“Solange come to live in
this house in Tremé, dressin’ hair and sellin’ beauty aids. She saved up a nice nest egg,” Sam concluded.

“Solange must have had other children since your family is descended from her. Your name is Beauvoir, so I assume she didn’t marry.” Tess looked at Sam with politely raised brows.

“No, Solange never got hitched proper. My poppa come along when Solange was 45, but she’s still so beautiful she’s turnin’ heads. Solange never let slip my poppa’s father, but she named my poppa Paul.” Sam waited for her reaction with a deadpan face.

“She had another baby with Paul Arnoult?” asked a dumbfounded Tess.

“No, Paul Arnoult had passed. But Solange maybe was carin’ more for ole Paul than she let on. No one can say, ’cept maybe Thérèse, and she kep’ quiet,” smiled Sam.

“Why would Thérèse know anything? Wasn’t her parentage kept a secret from her?” Jon rapped out, rousing from a withdrawn silence.

“Well, after Paul Arnoult’s gone, Thérèse seen the paperwork deedin’ this house to Solange. She got curious, and the minute she met Solange, she seen the truth in the green eyes. Thérèse and Solange did lotta bizness together after that. Thérèse can claim she’s buyin’ remedies and beauty potions, but Solange told my poppa Thérèse was givin’ her a regular income. Maybe Thérèse wanna help her momma, or maybe she wanna keep her momma quiet.” Sam cocked his head and looked at his listeners.

“This is the first time you’ve shared the secret of Thérèse’s bloodline?” asked Jon.

“My poppa made me swear to keep the secret as long as Thérèse Cabrera’s blood is livin’ in New Orleans,” Sam answered. “Only trouble can come to a colored man taints a white Creole line like the Cabreras, he useta say. And ever’body won by keepin’ quiet. Solange got this house and money from her daughter Thérèse. To please Thérèse, Ben Cabrera hired my poppa to be his personal assistant at his lumber company. So Solange did fine, my poppa did fine, and Thérèse did bes’ as a white Creole lady.”

“Secrets are also kept on pain of death or disgrace,” Jon added with a grim smile. “As you said, no white person was going to admit to a black bloodline
back then.”

“True that,” nodded Sam.

“So the whole Cabrera clan is descended from Solange. And Tess is…” Jon frowned, “…my very distant relative.”

“Well, I’ve solved one mystery. My green eyes are from Solange,” Tess concluded. “Why did you decide to tell me now?”

“Times change, and some secrets lose the shame,” responded Sam, with a shrug for time’s erosive power.

“What about Lillian’s story accusing Ben and Thérèse of drugging Marie with potions from Solange? You didn’t address that,” said Tess.

“Solange didn’ hurt that poor girl, but I reckon Ben and Thérèse maybe got a guilty conscience,” Sam said with a sober nod. “Thérèse knowed Louis was sickly, but I think her momma’s heart cain’t see he’s dyin’. Ben figured it out too late f’sure. My poppa told me Ben was real upset about the whole mess. He was tryin’ to make it up to Marie by takin’ her for shoppin’, carriage rides and picnics. He give her attention Louis was too sick to give. But he made ever’thin’ worse.”

“What do you mean? How can kindness make things worse?” wondered Tess.

“Well, the trouble with Ben is women desired him when he didn’ desire them,” said Sam, shaking his head and sighing. “Ben never guessed how Marie’s startin’ to like him more than her sick husband. But Thérèse seen it, and she told Ben to stay away. So ’tween pregnancy, Louis dyin’, missin’ Ben, and feelin’ guilty for missin’ Ben, Marie got in a bad way. She don’t eat and don’t sleep. She’s threatenin’ to run away to her momma. Thérèse got herbs from Solange to calm Marie and help her rest and eat right. They never poisoned her. It got twisted in Marie’s head when she lay dyin’.”

Tess
did not challenge Sam’s account despite some skepticism that the the sedation of Marie was guided by anything other than self-interest. Instead she steered the conversation back to her more personal concerns.

“So how did you
get to know my grandfather Guy?” she prodded. “It’s the original reason I wanted to speak with you—to learn about my grandfather.”

“Well, I guess you gotta thank Ben Cabrera,” Sam responded slowly.
He reminded her that, at Thérèse’s urging, Ben had given Paul Beauvoir a job as his personal assistant at the Cabrera lumber company. Paul Beauvoir worked in the office in town, and Ben’s nephew Armand Cabrera, Louis’s only son and Ben’s heir, also frequented the office as a lumber company executive. Armand would occasionally meet Paul Beauvoir’s wife Lucille when she visited her husband at the office, and Armand was quite impressed by the sensible and poised Lucille. Eventually, Armand offered Lucille work as a nursemaid to his three sons. His wife Giselle was ill and finding it hard to cope with the lively boys; in fact, Giselle had cancer and died a short time later. So Lucille went to work in the New Orleans townhouse that Armand shared with Ben Cabrera.

“I got happy memorie
s of playin’ with Armand’s boys—Michael, Alan and Roman—in Ben’s ole townhouse when my momma was workin’ there,” smiled Sam. “Roman and me got on bes’, roamin’ the Quarter and up to all kinda high jinks—never mind the cluckin’ over a motherless white chile runnin’ wild with a colored boy.”