When she should have been preparing for the meeting with Guinn, she found her thoughts going back to the Latlings’ old housekeeper and what the woman had said. She wasn’t sure if she could wait until tomorrow to question the old lady, but she’d have to. She had a feeling if she returned to the Latling house before tomorrow, it would jeopardize her chances of seeing any of Dr. Latling’s old records. But if what the housekeeper said was true, and she had information about Mamaw’s baby, then maybe she wouldn’t need the records, after all.
It was that thought that plagued her as she brushed her hair back into a sleek ponytail and put on some lipstick. Her expensive jewelry went on and she made sure to collect her briefcase. She intended to swing by Glory and pick up her father’s copy of the will before heading over to More Guns. Purse over her shoulder and stilettos on her feet, she headed out to the parking lot of the hotel looking every inch the Los Angeles lawyer.
The day was mild, a breeze kicking up and scattering puffy clouds overhead. Lucy glanced up at the sky, thinking she could get used to living in a place with no smog. It was nice to actually see the blue of the sky. Her car was over in a corner of the lot, towards the back, and her pristine heels made sharp clacking noises against the pavement as she went.
Pulling out her keys, thoughts of a bucolic life in Mississippi were abruptly cut short when someone came up behind her and wrapped her up in a big bear hug.
After that, the fight was on.
CHAPTER TWENTY
~ A Time for All Things ~
The labor had been going on most of the night.
Victory had first felt the pangs of childbirth late the previous night and as the night progressed into morning, the pains were getting worse.
She was terrified to tell her mama, hoping she could deliver the child without anyone in attendance and then somehow take her to safety. So much fear was in her heart as the night went on and the pain worsened. It wasn’t simply in her belly but down her legs as well, causing them to shake. There was a bloody discharge on her sheets but nothing more than that, no burst of waters as Lillian had once told her there would be.
The little maid was her only friend these days. She told Victory that she’d delivered her message to Lewis, or at least her husband had, so that gave Victory a tremendous amount of comfort. She had no idea it was all a lie. But that little lie gave her great comfort to know that Lewis knew she was thinking about him and that she was doing all she could to keep their child safe from harm.
And that meant not telling anyone she was in labor.
The pains hurt but they weren’t terrible. She was sure she could deliver the baby herself and keep her hidden, at least until she could get her to safety. Maybe she could even run for Rose Cove, where Lewis was, and they could go to safety together. Since Lillian lived in Rose Cove, she was hoping the maid could help her run away. The risk would be as great on Lillian as it would be on her, but she felt certain that Lillian would help her.
At least, those were her thoughts until the sun rose and the pains grew worse. Lillian and her mother showed up just after sunrise with breakfast and Victory did her best to pretend that she wasn’t in any pain. That wasn’t easy, however, because the pains were increasing.
Victory managed to hold off her mother and Lillian again at noon, but by suppertime she was quickly succumbing to the misery of childbearing and there was no way to hide it. Gone were thoughts of running away to Lewis to protect their child; the swamp of misery had closed in over her and she was drowning in it. One big pain in front of her mother and Lillian and the news was out.
Caroline panicked when she realized her daughter was close to giving birth. Someone ran off to drive to Dr. Latling’s house. In the parlor down below Victory’s bedroom, Laveau was working himself up into a state.
It was as if the man had forgotten about his daughter’s pregnancy for the last few months, as she was kept from his sight, but now that rage had returned again. He was yelling something about black bastards and cursing the mess his daughter had gotten herself in to. The bourbon came out and the more he drank, the more he yelled.
Victory could hear him up in her room. She began to pray for death, swallowed up by the horrific pain of childbirth and terrified of her father’s anger. She was sure if one didn’t kill her, the other would, so either way she was heading down that dark alley towards the afterlife. Her biggest concern was that her child remain safe if she didn’t make it.
“Mama,” she said after a particularly hard contraction. “Mama, promise me you won’t let Daddy kill the baby if I die. I asked you once before but you didn’t answer me. Promise me now that you won’t let him hurt her!”
Caroline wasn’t very good with people in pain. She squeezed her daughter’s hand as Lillian put a cold cloth on her head. “He won’t kill the baby,” she assured her daughter. “He’ll do what’s best.”
“Stop saying that!” Victory shouted. “You always say that Daddy will do what’s best, but he won’t do what’s best for my child! If you let him kill her, I swear I’ll haunt you from the grave! Do you hear me? I will haunt you forever!”
Caroline shushed her. “Don’t get yourself worked up, sugar,” she said softly. It was rare when she called her daughter by a term of endearment, but the moment called for it. “Everything will be all right. You just concentrate on bringing that baby into the world and everything will be all right.”
Victory shook her head, miserable. She could feel her belly muscles tightening up again and she raised her knees because that seemed to give her some relief.
“Mama, please,” she begged, her voice softer now. “You can’t let him kill her. You have to promise me you won’t. I can’t have this baby without knowing she’ll be safe if something happens to me.”
Caroline looked across the bed at Lillian, who was clearly distraught. They both knew what would likely happen to the child once it was born, Lillian from a black perspective and Caroline from a white one. Either way, the child was doomed because Caroline couldn’t, and wouldn’t, fight against her husband. Laveau wanted that shameful baby taken care of and that was exactly what was going to happen.
The child had no chance at all.
“Don’t trouble yourself, sugar,” Caroline said again, softly. “God’s will be done.”
Another rarity with Caroline speaking of God. Because he was trying to keep a scandal quiet, Laveau didn’t let her go to church these days and it was rare she spoke of the Lord, but tonight she did. Maybe she was seeking strength for what was to come, praying in her own way. But to Victory, it was all gibberish. Her mother would let Laveau do whatever he wanted to do and everyone knew it.
“I hate you for this,” Victory hissed, turning her head away from her mother as a strong contraction rolled over her. “I’ll hate you until I die!”
Increasingly distressed, Caroline was trying to comfort her daughter when the bedroom door opened and Dr. Latling entered.
A huge amount of relief settled over the room at his appearance. Carrying his black leather medical bag, the doctor was dressed in a wool suit because the weather had turned colder and there was a chill outside. Eyeing Victory writhing on the bed, he popped open his bag and pulled forth his stethoscope.
“Well, now,” he said. “Looks like this baby is about to make an appearance. How long has she been in labor, Ms. Caroline?”
Caroline stepped back nervously so Dr. Latling could get to Victory. “I came in to bring her supper and found her like this,” she said. “It’s been going on for a while, I think.”
Dr. Latling was listening to Victory’s rock-hard belly. “Miss Victory?” he asked. “How long you been feeling pains?”
Victory was biting off the pain on her hand, leaving red teeth marks. “Last night,” she said quietly. “Since last night.”
Dr. Latling listened for another moment to her belly before pulling the stethoscope away and returning to his bag.
“Last night?” he asked. “When last night? Dinnertime
? Midnight?”
“Probably around midnight.”
“And you didn’t tell your mama before now?”
“No.”
It was an angry answer and Caroline stood there, wringing her hands, distraught over the situation. “What can we do?” she asked the doctor. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
Dr. Latling nodded patiently. “She’s going to be fine,” he said. Then, he turned to Lillian. “I want you to bring me all of the towels and sheets you can find, ya hear? Clean ones, too. And bring me a box.”
Lillian was nodding eagerly until he asked for a box. “A box?” she repeated, confused. “What kind of box?”
Dr. Latling waved an impatient hand at her. “Anything,” he said. “Got some old Coca-Cola crates around here? That’ll do just fine. Bring one up to me.”
Lillian fled. When she was gone, Caroline paced around nervously. “What do you want me to do, Doctor?” she asked. “How can I help?”
“You can’t,” Latling said flatly. “Your presence is upsetting my patient, so I want ya’ll to go back downstairs with Laveau and keep him quiet. I could hear the man yelling all the way down the street. For the sake of your daughter, keep him quiet until this is over.”
Caroline was shocked. “I can’t leave you with… with her alone.”
Dr. Latling was pulling a white rag of some kind out of his bag followed by a small, brown glass bottle. “You can and you will,” he said. “I don’t want you up here for what I have to do.”
Caroline blanched. “What’s that?”
Dr. Latling looked at her over the top of his glasses. “Laveau wanted this baby taken care of,” he said. “I’m going to do that but I don’t want you here when I do. I want you to get out and tell Laveau I’ll take care of his problem.”
Astonished and terrified, Caroline fled the room.
Meanwhile, Victory had heard everything. By the time Dr. Latling turned to her, he could see tears streaming down her temples. Her lower lip was trembling as she looked at him.
“Don’t,” she begged. “Please… don’t hurt her.”
Dr. Latling went to her, sitting down beside her and putting both the cloth and the brown glass bottle on the table beside her bed. In a surprising show of compassion, he took Victory’s hand in his and squeezed it.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I promised you I’d take the baby away when she was born and I’m going to do just that. But I need to do it my own way.”
Lucy burst into soft tears. “You won’t kill her?”
“I won’t kill her.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Ruby, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Latling gave her a forced smile and let go of her hand. Then, he unscrewed the top of the brown glass bottle to reveal a dropper attached it.
“I’ve brought a lot of babies into this world, Miss Victory,” he said quietly. “I would never harm one of them, not even yours. I’ve spent my entire life saving people and I’m not about to kill one, no matter what your daddy says. So trust me… and never ask me about it, not ever. Your daddy or mama might hear and if they do, they’ll be all kinds of trouble. You understand?”
Victory nodded, utter faith in her red-rimmed eyes. “I do,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
Dr. Latling didn’t reply. He put a few drops of liquid from the brown bottle on the cloth and then put it over Victory’s face, telling her to breathe deeply. She did and, within a few seconds, passed out cold from the ether. Carefully, Dr. Latling bottled the ether back up, tucked everything away, and went to work delivering a baby that was demanding to be born.
Lillian returned shortly with sheets and towels and the Coca-Cola crate, and Dr. Latling had the maid line the box with some of the clean towels. It wasn’t a few minutes later that a fat baby girl was brought into the world, mewling and squirming.
And she was very much alive. With the dreaded baby now born and evidently healthy, Dr. Latling didn’t have any time to waste. Ever since Victory had begged him to protect the baby, he’d been prepared to do just that. He had a plan. He had Lillian pull down the top of Victory’s nightgown and hold the baby against her breast to suckle while he delivered the placenta and cleaned Victory up a little. She had weathered the birth well and he didn’t foresee any complications.
Retrieving the now-quieting baby from Lillian, he swaddled the child tightly, put her in the Coca-Cola box, and draped a couple of the bloody towels over her. He also put the placenta in with her to make it look particularly distasteful. He figured Laveau and Caroline would think twice about looking into the box if they saw all of the blood. Then, he looked the maid in the eye.
“The baby died,” he hissed at her. “You will go to your grave saying that this baby died. If you don’t, I’ll make sure Mr. Laveau knows you been stealing from his wife. Understand?”
Lillian’s features flushed with fear. “But I didn’t steal nothin’!”
“He won’t believe you,” Dr. Latling cut her off. “I’m taking the baby now to dispose of it and that’s all you know. The baby died and that’s all there is to it.”
With that, he picked up the box with its bloody towels, his medical bag, and made his way downstairs where Caroline was waiting anxiously and Laveau was nearly drunk out of his mind.
Upon informing the family that the baby had been born dead, he flashed the placenta and dirty towels at them to discourage them from wanting to see the baby and it thankfully worked. No one wanted to view what was clearly a bloody mess. Caroline burst into tears and turned away as Laveau simply sat there with a confused look on his face.
Dr. Latling didn’t wait around for the confusion to clear up or for someone decided to press him further. Mumbling something about taking care of the body, he shuffled out through the back door of Glory, praying that the baby wouldn’t suddenly wake up and start crying. He prayed hard all the way out to his car, beseeching God to let the baby remain quiet just a little longer, just long enough to get it away from the house. One small cry and he’d have the whole house down around him.
Lord only knew what Laveau would do to him.
But God was listening to him that night. With the precious cargo in the back of the car, Dr. Latling drove away from Glory feeling as if he’d just committed a terrible crime. But the truth was that he’d just prevented a terrible crime, a crime against humanity and against a fragile baby whose birth had been so reviled. He had no idea what he was going to do with the child, only that he had to get it away from Glory. His wife would know what to do, he was sure. She was a patron to an orphanage up in Oxford and she would know what to do with a mulatto baby.
At least, he hoped so. It wasn’t like he could give it back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Present
“Are you sure you’re okay, ma’am?” the paramedic asked Lucy. “You should probably go to the hospital and have that bump on your head checked out.”
“No, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big bump, ma’am.”
“Really – I’m okay.”
Lucy had an icepack up against the side of her head, on the spot where she’d hit her head on the curb in the process of fighting off the man who’d grabbed her from behind.
But it wasn’t just any man – Clyde had come up behind her and put his arms around her, and even now he was handcuffed in the back an ambulance, trying to explain to the arresting officer that Lucy was his cousin and he was only trying to give her a hug.
That very poor judgment call on his part had resulted in a split lip, a missing tooth, a few cracked ribs, and pepper spray to the face once Lucy had been able to get her canister out of her purse. That had been after she’d lost her balance in the course of fighting him and hit her head on the pavement, but once she regained her balance, she’d kicked the crap out of him with her pointy shoes. No part of Clyde’s body had been left unassaulted and the paramedics on scene had determined he needed to go to the ho
spital.
They wanted Lucy to go, too, but she wasn’t going to ride in the same ambulance as Clyde. She could hear him in the ambulance, whining and crying, as the sheriff’s deputy stood next to her and took down the details of the assault. And make no mistake; it was an assault no matter what Clyde said. When he’d grabbed her from behind, one hand had managed to squeeze a breast. That, by definition, was sexual assault.
That asshole was going to pay.
“Ol’ Clyde has been known to follow women home and otherwise annoy them, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard of him attacking anyone,” the middle-aged deputy was saying. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you, ma’am, but if you press charges against him, it’ll make this town safer for the women. That boy is a nuisance.”
Lucy, seated on the curb, looked up at the deputy. “You’re damn right I’m pressing charges,” she said. “I told you what happened – he came up behind me, threw his arms around me, and managed to cop a feel on my left breast before I rammed an elbow back into his face.”
“And that’s when you fell?”
“I lost my balance, yes. Not only is it an assault charge, but sexual battery as well.”
The deputy was writing. “How long ago would you say this happened?”
“At least twenty minutes now,” she said. Then, she looked around at all of the units that had rolled on her; two deputy units, an ambulance, and an entire fire station. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have an appointment in about fifteen minutes that I need to keep. I was just heading there when all of this happened. Can we please wrap this up?”
The deputy nodded. “Almost finished,” he told her. Then, he looked up from his notepad. “You really should go get checked out at the hospital. Just to make sure that bump isn’t something more.”
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