by Read, Calia
I look up at him. “A lot?” I offer.
“More than half.”
“Truthfully, I’m not surprised.” I sigh. “Can I tell you the truth?”
I can feel Asa’s gaze as he turns to me, waiting for me to speak.
“I meant what I said. It should be fifteen dollars a day,” I confess. “Just when you think you’ve answered all the calls, there’s twenty new calls on the switchboard. You always need to do more, more, more. And you’re expected to be brisk and intelligent while bein’ gentle and kind.” I take a deep breath. “I think it’s next to impossible.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Yet you’re accomplishin’ it,” Asa bluntly states.
That’s the closest I will get to a compliment from him.
“I once had one young lady that was terminated because she spoke far too often on the floor and was warned twice about wearin’ colored blouses.”
I would like to be surprised, but I’m not. “Louise runs a tight ship.”
“I believe generals in the Army would be proud of her,” Asa remarks.
Louise is severe and uncompromising, but she isn’t cruel. I know cruel. I lived with cruel. I can spot it a mile away.
Louise is far from it.
“How are you managinin’ all the information they’ve been teachin’ you?” Asa asks.
I carefully think over my reply, mindful that he could tell Étienne or Livingston what I say. “At times it has been challengin’ but I believe I have a firm understandin’ of the job.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.”
With a start, I realize we’re already on Tradd Street. We’re close to the Lacroix House. How has time moved that fast? Then again, time always moved far too quickly when I was in Asa’s presence. Rather, it felt like coming home after being left out in the cold. Now that I am here, warm and safe, I don’t want to leave.
“For the past six days I’ve had a man call asking for the number to the White House,” I divulge. It’s a sudden act of desperation to keep our conversation going.
Asa doesn’t seem the least bit surprise and merely nods. “Ah, yes, Victor.”
My eyes widen. “He has a name?”
“I certainly hope he does. Victor has been callin’ since I began workin’ for Southern Bell.”
“Ah, I didn’t know. I’ve named him ‘The Duke’ because of his fake English accent.”
Asa nods. “Quite fittin’.”
“Has he always been this eccentric?”
“Yes. His requests have been different. Once he asked to speak with Henry J. Heinz. Another time he had to discuss business with Andrew Carnegie. He also requested to speak to Dr. John S. Pemberton because he was convinced he knew the formula for Coca-Cola.”
A short burst of laughter escapes me. “Surely you jest.”
Asa shakes his head. “You spoke with him. You know what he’s possible of sayin’.”
“That is true.”
“With the exception of Victor, all is well?”
“Well, there are many people who call that are demandin’ and impolite.”
Asa doesn’t reply, just merely nods his head.
“But it’s not terrible. I spoke to Leaf and she said it could be far worse. We could have them yellin’ at us face to face,” I blabber.
Still no answer when Asa suddenly looks at me. “You can tell me if you need your hours reduced.”
His remark is sudden and unexpected. “Why do you say that?”
“You seem tired.”
“I am tired.”
But I’d rather be tired than tormented like I was at Brignac House. Being tired equates to a body so exhausted even your bruised heart and mind can’t continue to run late into the night.
My eyes narrow. “Did my brother ask you to inquire how I’m handlin’ this job?”
“No, Étienne didn’t. I think we both know he would ask you himself.”
“Fair enough,” I concede.
We walk over a small series of brick broken on the sidewalk. It’s been this way for years. The Lacroix house is right ahead.
“May I ask you somethin’?”
I hesitate to say yes because I don’t know what Asa wants to ask me. There’s still so much we haven’t said to each other. “Yes,” I reply, albeit reluctantly.
“Why did you say you wouldn’t have kids at Alex’s birthday party?”
It takes me a moment to remember the conversation he’s referring to. Out of everything, he asked about that?
Feeling my cheeks heat, I keep my eyes fixed on the ground and reply, “Because I can’t have children. Oliver and I tried, and…”
I let my words fade because this isn’t a conversation I want to have with Asa. Just the mention of Oliver has his eyes hardening. “I’m no longer upset about it,” I say, “I know it’s my fault I can’t carry a child.”
Asa’s quiet for a long moment, staring at me at me with confusion. “Your fault?”
I nod.
“That’s absurd. Have you stopped to consider that maybe it wasn’t you?”
“Pardon?”
“Maybe it was Oliver. I once read that men can have reproductive issues.”
One corner of my mouth curls up as I listen to Asa rattle off a nonsensical fact about reproduction. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him go on and on about aimless facts. But it’s not enough to dull the harsh words whispered by Matilda, “Our life was perfect before you came into the picture. Then you ruined everything. What you touch, turns to death.”
Back then, I told myself her words meant nothing. Matilda was simply an angry, hateful woman who couldn’t bear to see anyone happy. But her words meant everything; they hit far too close to my heart than I cared to realize.
“What’s wrong?”
Instantly, the memory fades as quickly as it arrives. I blink Asa into focus and find him staring at me intently. I smile at him reassuringly. “Nothin’.”
“Yes, there is. It was my question. I upset you when I talked about reproductive issues.”
Most of the time, Asa worked so hard to keep his thoughts to himself; social cues were a chore for him. When he forgot one, my heart swelled. This was the Asa I loved so much. This was the Asa that I wanted to shield from the world because people had been, and would be, cruel to him.
Was Juliet protecting him? Did she understand him like I did? I pushed the thought away because it hurt too much to think about and cleared my throat. “No, you didn’t upset me.”
Asa continues to watch me, his stare intense. “Then what?”
“I was thinkin’ about the past,” I confess.
With my confession, Asa’s brows lift. “Oh.”
I nod. “You said nothin’ wrong.”
As we approach the Lacroix House, Asa opens the gate and gestures for me to walk ahead of him. I am more than capable of making it the rest of the way, but I don’t want our conversation to come to an end. I miss his presence in my life, but I miss our talks even more. With Asa, I never knew where the conversation would lead. He was innocently unpredictable with his words. That’s what people never understood about him. Yes, he was blunt and at times unseemly with his approach, but he tried so hard. If the rest of the people in the world were like him, we would be in a far better place.
I observe him from the corner of my eye and find him looking toward the gardens. “They look bleak durin’ the winter, don’t they?”
“What garden doesn’t?” He stops walking and points to the tree not far from us. “I was tryin’ to see if your swing is still there.”
“It is,” I reply, without giving the Oak tree a single glance.
Asa shakes his head. “You loved that swing.”
“I loved a lot as a child,” I murmur and continue toward the front door.
Asa hesitates for a moment before he quickly catches up to me. “And you don’t love now?” he asks.
I stop and turn to him. “As we grow so does our love.”
“So, you still do love.
”
“At times, yes. The only difference is, if I do love, Asa, I’m smart enough to realize I deserve to be loved back.”
Asa hears the true meaning of my words, but rather than walk away, he stays put. He crosses his arms and leans in every so slightly. “Who do you love now?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I heard jealousy in Asa’s tone.
“Why is it any of your concern?” I ask.
“It isn’t my concern.”
Under the cloak of darkness, we are the only two people in the world. I lean against the door. My palms lay flat against the surface, but not even that cool blast against my warm skin is enough to pull me out of the trance I’m in. Asa shifts closer until the tips of our feet touch.
Our breaths mingle together, and if I move the barest inch, our lips will touch. Once that happens, I will shatter. Nothing else will matter but him.
“Thank you for walkin’ me home,” I whisper. Blindly, I reach for the door handle, but it’s as though the thing disappeared on me.
Asa reaches behind me and grabs the knob on the first try. The action causes him to shift closer. Our lips brush against each other as he whispers back, “You’re welcome.”
I gasp just as he pulls back. My hands hold onto the handle as though it’s a life raft. With my heart pounding in my ears, I watch Asa walk backward, never taking his eyes off me. “Good-night, Nathalie.”
“Good-night, Asa,” I reply.
I don’t remember making it inside. But once I do, I heavily sag against the front door and close my eyes.
He’s married now, Nathalie. And you are no longer a little girl with stars in her eyes…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
1905
Nathalie
“Do you think everyone is asleep?”
I turned back and looked at Rainey. We hadn’t left the confines of my room and our plan already seemed doomed. “No. I can guarantee you Étienne is awake, in his office, lookin’ over a contract or readin’.”
“Does he ever sleep?”
I tapped a finger to the corner of my mouth. “I believe he did. Once. As a child.”
Rainey and I broke into laughter far too easily. Étienne always said if we laughed long enough, we would start to sound like a tea kettle going off. Which made us erupt into another fit of giggles. We could find the humor in the mundane when most could not. That’s what I loved so much about our friendship.
Laughter didn’t come easy following the death of my parents and Julian. And when I did laugh, it was fleeting. In that moment I felt light, and at ease, but the second I stopped, I felt remorse for being happy.
I knew I had to continue with life. I could imagine Momma telling me I was doing myself no favors by living in my pain. But the way I saw it, existing with my pain kept their memory alive. No one understood my way of thinking better than Rainey. She would talk about her daddy when she needed to, and I would speak of my parents and Julian. We spoke of good memories. Nothing sad. Good memories inevitably led to humor and laughter. I didn’t know where sadness would lead to, and I was afraid to find out.
“I bet if Étienne does sleep it’s with his eyes open, and his fingers wrapped around a pen. So he can continue writin’ contracts,” Rainey said between bouts of laughter.
“But of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has another desk in his bedroom rather than a bed. He doesn’t miss a minute of work.”
Our laughter carried on for several seconds before I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. If we didn’t hurry, we would miss our window of opportunity.
I straightened and tried my best to gather my composure. “All right. All right. We must focus. It won’t be dark forever.”
“You’re right. Give me your hand,” my best friend demanded.
Hesitantly, I looked at Rainey. She held her hand out expectantly and waited. I took her hand and together, we slipped out of my room and scurried down the hall.
It was well after dinner. The servants were either in their rooms or quietly cleaning in the kitchen. Nevertheless, we made sure to keep our steps feather-light as we walked down the marble steps. Once we reached the first floor, we looked at one another, eyes wide in victory and rushed to the front door.
Outside, it was pitch black. Rainey and I gripped the porch railing and carefully stepped down before we felt the gravel beneath our feet.
We stood on the circular drive, debating which direction we should go with only the cicadas to keep us company, when at last, my eyes adjusted to the dark. I tugged on Rainey’s hand and moved to the left. “This way.”
Every evening, the family driver Warren stayed until eight, cleaning the Ford Model-C, making sure the car was spotless for the next morning. If by chance he wasn’t here, we couldn’t go to Charleston tonight. Of course, we could take our bikes. But that would take far longer. By the time we arrived, we’d be too exhausted and would have to be on our way back to Belgrave before anyone ever knew we were gone.
We approached the newly-built carport. The doors were pushed open and an oil lamp was lit inside. The smell of dirt and oil greeted us as we walked inside.
“Warren!” I said in a hushed whisper.
He didn’t hear me and continued to hum the tune under his breath as he wiped down the Ford.
Rainey rolled her eyes. “Nat, louder. Like this,” she took a deep breath, and shouted, “Warren!”
I would not be surprised if residents, the next town over, heard Rainey’s yell. Immediately, Warren dropped the rag and stood up straight. When he turned to face us, he was clutching his chest.
The two of us came to a halt and didn’t come in any farther. “Sorry to frighten you, sir,” Rainey said with an apologetic smile.
Warren looked between the two of us with confusion. “My goodness, girls. What brings the two of you out here at this time?”
There was a slight pause. I felt Rainey’s gaze on me. I knew she was waiting for me to explain. This was part of the arrangement. I was to do all the talking. Rainey wasn’t precisely known for her restraint with words. Rather, she was the brains behind the entire plan.
“So, you see,” I continued, “Because Rainey and I have never been to the carnival, my brother thought it would be nice if we went before it closed down and left town.”
“Will Mr. Lacroix be goin’ with the two of you?”
I looked to Rainey and found her staring at me meaningfully. “N-no. He has work to attend to. He sent us on our way and told us to be back at a reasonable time.”
Warren narrowed his gaze. I knew it was only a matter of time before he suspected something was amiss.
Sighing, he gave the freshly cleaned Ford a forlorn expression before he said, “Where to Miss Lacroix?”
“Charleston, Warren,” Rainey supplied, unable to stop herself. “We have ourselves a carnival to go to.”
“We’ll walk the rest of the way from here,” Rainey told a dubious Warren.
I stood on the relatively quiet King Street. Most people were asleep, and if they weren’t, they were already at the carnival. If I paid no mind to the loud idle of the car or the chorus of the cicadas, I could hear the distant sound of laughter and voices coming from the carnival.
Anxiously, I moved from foot to foot as I waited for Warren’s reply. He wanted to object to our request because even he could see the error of Rainey and I walking through town at night without a chaperone.
“We will only be gone for thirty minutes,” I blurted.
With a broad smile, Rainey anxiously nodded.
Warren sighed and turned the car off. “All right then. I’ll be right here.”
Rainey nearly danced with glee as the two of us took off toward the carnival. Our arms were linked together as we walked to Hampton Park. The land was downtown and linked together by Calhoun, Meeting and King Street. Adjacent from the park was The Citadel, a military college.
As we approached Hampton Park, there was a banner with the words, WELCOME, over the entrance. I
nside the park, I tightened my grip on Rainey. “Remember we stay together,” I stressed.
“I know, I know,” Rainey readily replied.
We passed a ticket booth that was directly inside, near the entrance. A long line snaked back toward the entrance while a frazzled young man gave people their tickets.
Rainey and I moved deeper into the carnival and the hum of excitement began to fill me. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The smell of popcorn and candy apples greeted my nose. Off in the distance I saw a Ferris wheel slowly circulating high above the ground. “That looks magnificent!” Rainey declared.
I swallowed, and merely nodded. The Ferris wheel was beautiful from afar, but I didn’t think I had enough courage to step onto it. I preferred the carousel up ahead to the right. The circular platform slowly rotated. People, although they were mostly children, sat on the carved animals such as lions, giraffes, horses, goats, and camels. Chariots are interspersed throughout. Each animal and scenery panel were beautifully painted in rich vibrant colors. A band organ, as ornate as the carousel, played music loud enough to be heard over the crowds.
Children ran past us, laughing with glee. Conversations were far louder than necessary, but it was of no concern. The lack of moderation applied to social barriers and restrictions everyone daily carried with them, making each person lighter. I still took the time to search the crowd to see if there was anyone that might recognize Rainey and I, but I didn’t see anyone.
To my left, there was a bioscope show. The traveling cinema had a sign above the tent. COWBOYS AND INDIANS: LIFE IN THE WILD WEST. I would love to go in there, but I knew Rainey would become disinterested within minutes.
There was a booth for a ring toss. There was another game where milk bottles were stacked and you had to throw baseballs to knock it down. A simpler game was in the booth beside that one. The string pull guaranteed that you won a prize every time. The two of us passed tent after tent, and game after game, but Rainey only had one thing in mind. We continued to walk until the crowd thinned out and the tents became sparser. The waft of popcorn didn’t reach this far back. I looked over my shoulder at where the festivities continued.