With One Look (29 page)

She moved slowly down the hall, back up the stairs and to her door. She grabbed the door handle tightly, needing something to hang on to. Seconds passed as she felt with horror a hand that could not turn the handle. She clasped her hands together tightly to stop their trembling, finally managing to push the handle down just as her knees collapsed and she fell inside.

Quiet fell over the great house in the afternoon. Most of the servants napped through the heat. The men had left. She had no idea where Tessie or Mercedes were, but she imagined they were either napping, too, or at the lake.

Nor did she have any idea of how she might leave. She could only try and keep trying until she was successful. She knew someone was leaving today for New Orleans, for she had written a letter to the Reverend Mother, and Tessie said it would be leaving this afternoon. It would be her first try.

She took only the clothes she was wearing, a pair of sandals, her mandolin and Wolf Dog. She made the bed to look as though she still slept in it, left a short, simple note of explanation under the blanket, and gathered her things. One hand held a parasol.

The first time she had ever used a blind stick...

*****

“The master don't never send women folks out in no cart!"

"Oh, but didn't he tell you? No? There just wasn't time to make other arrangements. You don't mind, do you?"

Tripoli looked around uncertainly, removing his wide-brimmed straw hat to wipe at his brow. Last night's rain done already dried up. Not a body in sight; the heat, like hell itself, chased away all mortal folks. 'Ceptin' for a pretty white lady with a strummin' board askin' an old colored man if he minds none.

He looked back at the girl. He just couldn't figure it. The master treated his ladies like they be queens, givin' dem all that finery, jewels, fancy dons and all. Why, he once gave a lady her very own carriage and four fine geldings!

"Oh, please!" The cry came with soft urgency. "I won't be a bother at all. This is all I'm carrying and, oh, if you would?"

A graying brow rose with shock. "Please" from a white woman? He swallowed, then nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am! Ain't no bother at all. Ole Tripoli here be the last soul bothered by a lady with a strummin' board. My pleasure, ma'am."

Yet an hour or so down the hot road Tripoli knew he had spoken too soon. Casting an anxious glance at the pale, tear-streaked face, he cracked the reins over the old nag's back, hoping for a little more dust. Weren't no pleasure in it, he sighed. A mite more pleasure at a funeral dig. She couldn't talk none and just sat aside him cryin' and cryin' like the world's come to end and they all be goin' to hell for bein' such sinners. Every time she settled some and tried to give him a song, she gets halfway into it afore she chokes up and starts bawlin' again.

Lord, she was a-breakin' his heart.

Twilight inched slowly into the landscape.

He focused on the passing scenery, staring at the long crooked branches of the trees, dark and shadowy in the falling night, stared until they became something else. Uh oh. That one looks like an ornery ole witch and that one looks like a bear as mean as a bee-stung dog. That one looks a fright, like a scarecrow come to life.

It raised his gooseflesh somethin' good. Lord, he might have been a runaway nigger with paddyrollers chasm' him, it spooked him so bad. He fetched his tiny salt shaker—one he always carried—from his pocket and shook it over his left shoulder before trying to settle his gaze on a shiny half moon brushed with clouds as he listened to the creaks of the cart, the steady clop of the old mare pullin' them along.

All the while she sat there sobbin' so quietly ...

He finally gave up and withdrew his whiskey cask from his bag. He pressed it into her hands and begged her to share the cause of such grief. He could hardly believe it. A darn sad tale she told as they passed the whiskey back and forth. Seems her aunt and uncle were livin' just fine till an accident put the aunt in a chair and makes her a cripple. Her uncle couldn't take it, couldn't bear to see someone he loved so much in pain and struggling and all, so he just up and run away.

Jade took another swallow of the hot liquid. "Isn't it one of the saddest things you ever heard, Tripoli?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He shook his head. "That be a sad story for sure. I'se real sorry for your folks and all. I suppose hangin' be too good for a man who up and leaves his wife crippled like that. No sir." He shook his head again, quite certain. "Hangin' be too good for that fellow."

"Oh, no, Tripoli," she said with feeling, clutching the cask tightly. "I know how he feels.

He just couldn't bear to see her in pain. It hurt him more than it hurt her." Tripoli was not convinced. "Still ..."

"I know how it is, Tripoli, I know. I know 'cause I'm blind. Did you know I was blind, Tripoli?"

Kind dark eyes focused hard on the girl. "You mean you don' see nothin'?" Jade shook her head.

"Well, glory be!" He just stared, amazed. "I never knowed. You never said nothin' ." "No one ever knows. Why, I can walk into a roomful of people and fool all of them. You

see, Tripoli," she expanded philosophically, "seeing is normal for you but being blind is normal for

me. It hardly ever bothers me. Why, I can do most everything others can do: I can walk, swim, talk, I can sing, play chess and count sums. I can do most all the little things for myself: dress, eat and everything like that. I have a system for everything: I know exactly where my brush and hairpins and clothes trunk are; I know how many steps from the patio to the dining room, how many stairs there are. Why, it's as though I can see. I can walk into church and down the aisle and sit in my pew without touching anything.

"And you know, Tripoli, I hardly ever miss seeing. Sometimes it's even better. My imagination creates pictures of the world for me to see and these pictures are better than real life. Women are more beautiful, men more handsome, the sky is bluer, trees are taller and greener, the flowers more radiant and colorful. Why," she added in an impassioned whisper, "I can make rainbows whenever I want."

"I kin see how that might work out."

"Do you know what the worst part is, Tripoli?" "No, ma'am, I don't reckon I do."

"The worst part is the person I love. He thinks I'm helpless and suffering, and I'm not Tripoli, I'm not! Accidents are bound to happen but... but it's like they happen to him and not to me. Oh, Tripoli, I love him so much! So much I just can't bear it." She cried as her head fell on his lap. "My heart is breaking, Tripoli, I can feel my heart breaking.” "

Shortly after the second sounding, Tessie still tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep eluded her. Something bothered her. Not just Jade's accident. She felt like a feather tickled her brain, trying to tell her something....

Jade's room emerged in her mind. She had checked in on her numerous times. Jade had slept straight into the night, but the doctor said this was to be expected. The trauma taxed the body, he said. So, what could be bothering her....

Wolf Dog!

Tessie flew from her bed and, not bothering with slippers, shawl or even a candle, she ran out from the servants' quarters, along the path around the kitchen and up the wood stairs, and into the back door. She took the stairs three at a time, lifting her thin cotton nightdress over skinny, brown knees, all the while trying to stop from calling alarm until she knew. Yet, she did know, she did!

Tessie opened the door, took one look at Wolf Dog's empty basket, and then stumbled to the bed discovering a pile of clothes beneath the covers, a note she could not read and no mistress.

"Master Sebastian! Doctor Murray!"

Dawn broke through the clouds. A warm breeze blew steadily from the Gulf when Victor passed Tripoli's cart on his way to the city. He spotted it off the main fairway, sitting under a willow tree just after Barataria in Jefferson parish. He thought nothing of it. Tripoli was taking a brief nap before continuing on to the city.

A light rain fell from the smooth gray sky. A piece of canvas covered the back of the cart where Jade slept, deeply, dreamlessly. Wolf Dog was curled up beneath a tree trunk. A breeze swayed the branches and sent fresh drops of moisture over the puppy's coat. He looked up with a growl. He stood and shook himself, moving to the cart where Tripoli slept.

Tripoli woke when the damp fur came against his skin, but when he tried to lift his head, his body rebelled with the powerful, dull ache of what his woman always called the Lord's revenge. He found his water cask, and after taking a long drink, he laid his head down again and fell back to sleep.

Riding up to New Orleans from Port Sulphuro, the five riders had almost passed the cart when Morrel’s loose stirrup gave way. He stopped his mount, cursing his stirrup, the horse, the day, the world, and he dismounted to attempt a quick repair. Glancing up, he spotted the cart.

A broad grin spread over weathered features. A fresh bit of luck, he saw. He knew the cart, knew the colored man under it. He had passed the man about two months ago on the very same road, and after one glance down at the old man's basket of food, he had reached over to help himself to the fried chicken, honey and rolls, sweetmeats and stuffed eggs. 'Twas a sorry day when a bloody nigger ate better than he did.

He cinched the knot. This whole damn city treated their niggers like they were better than white men! Them quadroon wenches up there in that ballroom, not lettin' no man through unless he be fancy and fine—as if his money weren't good enough for a nigger wench. All them niggers owin' stores and houses, walkin' about with their noses stuck in the air. The whole damn lot of 'em ought to be whipped and sold off....

Morrel mounted and turned his horse off the road, heading toward the cart. Wolf Dog growled, jumped to his feet and barked warning. To no avail. Tripoli didn't stir. Reining his mount

alongside the cart, Morrel bent over and lifted the canvas ... only to find himself looking at something far better than a basket of food.

Wolf Dog jumped on top of Tripoli to wake him, barking frantically. Tripoli sat up, dazed, took one look at the four legs of the horse alongside the cart, and scrambled to his feet. Only to watch Morrel fire a pistol into the air to call the others back.

Jade bolted up, too, dazed, confused; the pistol fire no louder than the pounding of her aching head. With a startled gasp, she covered her head.

What was it? What was happening?

Taking in the scene at a glance, Tripoli cursed with tangible fear. "You just keep them hands off her, you hear?"

"Oh, I hear you, nigger boy. What I want to know is what the hell is a colored man doin' with a ripe piece like this?"

Tripoli's muscles went rock-hard rigid with the danger. Up the creek without a paddle, he knew, and while he could not stop this man, he'd die trying. He tried first to warn him. 'The lady belongs to my master. I be takin' her to him now. You be knowin' Captain Nolte?"

"Nolte?" Morrel questioned incredulously before chuckling. "Boy, if you be lyin' to me, I'll blow your bloody face against that—"

"No sir! I ain't a-lyin' to you!" Tripoli shook his head. "I’m a-tellin' you, my master will kill the man who lays a finger on her; I swear he will!"

Morrel's horse danced as he threw his head back, shook his wet hair like a crazed animal and laughed long and hard. "Let me tell you, nigger boy, the wench that be fine enough for Mr. High-and-mighty Nolte be fine enough for me."

Jade froze, just froze, color draining from her face like life from her blood. She dropped to her hands and knees, braced for the terror and prayed for a quick death. The sound of other riders approaching felt like Saint Peter's trumpets.

A rescue! Mercy in heavens—

She knew it was a rescue. Wolf Dog barked furiously as the four riders quickly circled the

cart.

"The man says she's Nolte's wench." Morrel smiled.

Don Bernardo pushed his mount up alongside the cart, reached in and grabbed a handful of

Jade's hair. Jade cried as her head was jerked back. "Madonna, blessed Madonna, she's Nolte's all

right." A howl of laughter sounded. "This is the bloody wench that started all the trouble at Charmane's the night it burned!"

Jade screamed as hands came around her waist, lifting her up and throwing her over a saddle. The wind was knocked from her lungs. She pounded fists and feet violently, fighting with all her strength, ignoring the painful tearing of her stitches, a sick dread rising with bile in her throat. "Stop it! Let me—"

Desperate to save her, Tripoli lifted a long branch high into the air. Just as he was about to crash it into Don Bernardo's side, a bullet exploded in his shoulder.

Tripoli dropped like a discarded rag to the ground. "Tripoli!" Jade screamed. "Tripoli!"

Don Bernardo only chuckled, swatted her buttocks affectionately, and pushed his mount into a gallop. The men left, though Morrel paused, searched a moment, and after lifting the basket of food, he laughed. "Sweet dreams, nigger boy.”

Victor,

I have left to return to the convent after overhearing the agony I have brought you. If you care at all for me, please do not follow, or ever seek me there.

I will always love you.... I wish it were enough.... Jade Terese Devon

They read it twice, then three times, and then it took over an hour to determine that Jade was nowhere on the grounds. Desperate and crying, Tessie thought of Tripoli and they guessed how Jade must have left. A heated discussion followed: would Victor find Jade with Tripoli on his way to the city? Surely he'd have to pass them. What if he missed them somehow? Would Jade be safe with Tripoli?

Not willing to take the chance, Sebastian left immediately.

Sebastian rode a young black Arabian mare, half wild and barely green broke; he rode with the wind's speed through the dawn and early morning until he came upon the terrifying sight.

The abandoned cart rested in a quiet glen beneath a willow tree. Underneath the cover of the cart and out from under the rain lay Tripoli. A middle-aged colored woman and two gangling young children surrounded him. The woman's apron was unfolded and she used it to stop the bleeding while the little girl held Wolf Dog in her arms. There was no sign of the dog's mistress.