Darkest Pattern- The Door

by Riva Zmajoki

  “It will hurt you.”

  “I know, it hurts already,” she smiled and Josephine wondered how she can do that, smile despite the pain.

  Josephine poured brandy on the bandage and pressed on the wound. Her laughter stopped, she struggled to stay quiet, and then she bites down in a sheet.

  “Now the bandage,” she said when she caught her breath. “Firm but not too tight.”

  Josephine covered the wound with layers of bandage feeling relieved when the wound was out of sight.

  “Good,” she sighed when Josephine got up to collect all the bloody fabrics around her. “Where shall I sleep?”

  “Here,” Josephine said simply and earned a stare and lifted eyebrows. “I will sleep in the antechamber,” she added to avoid confusion.

  “Alright,” she said calming down. “I’m too tired anyway, too tired to move.”

  The woman did look tired, pale and sleep deprived.

  “Get some sleep,” Josephine said and uncovered the sheet on the bed.

  “It would be best if I could take bath first,” she said caressing the fine sheets. “I’m afraid I couldn’t do that if the bath was right here ready for me. Don’t be shy now, help me out of this dress.”

  Josephine helped her with the outer dress. After a hesitation, she helped her to get out of her corset too. As she folded the corset Josephine noticed how thin her corset was. It had no bones in its lining, no wonder that the woman was able to run, jump and lean in it.

  The woman was still modest in her underpants and undershirt, but it was too thin for Josephine to feel safe. It was a relief when she curled under the covers. Josephine approached her and tucked her in.

  “I will burn this dress with other fabrics, it’s bloody,” Josephine said to her quietly, it seemed that she’ll fall asleep instantly.

  “Alright,” she said yawning. “Just don’t think that I can’t leave without my clothes, because I can run away naked if I have to,” she said and fell asleep instantly.

  Josephine caressed her hair noticing with regret that they didn’t let her hair down from a bun. Before she left Josephine took the forgotten pistol and put it on the nightstand just within the reach of her healthy hand.

  Josephine left the room quietly safely closing the door. Then she took the bloody things in the kitchen and threw one by one in the stove. The luck was on her side tonight, no servant saw her do her chores.

  Only when she washed her hands from the blood did Josephine remembered that her young guest is waiting for her by the piano. She sighed, straightened her dress and went to join the girl.

  2.1 Bright Flames

  Charcoaled House

  When her mistress had guests servants would go in full alert mode.

  Sue among them would find a peaceful place to rest her feet that were swollen. Her baby was due soon and Sue feared everything from her delivery to her status in the household after she has a baby.

  Till now, her mistress was ignoring her blessed state.

  What will happen when the baby isn’t inside of her protective belly, Sue couldn’t guess.

  The fact that Sue wasn’t married and that she still went by her father’s name Preston was known to her mistress.

  That was the fact that prevented Sue in searching for other employment. Who would want to take in a ruined woman?

  That’s why she kept quiet and continued to clean dark rooms not demanding of Major-Domo to assign other maids to do her chores. They were still clean enough to wear white uniforms and Sue wasn’t the one who was to blame for their uniforms to switch to black.

  Carol was worried about his mistress. She was acting strangely ever since that woman hijacked their carriage.

  For that incident, Carol was angry at himself.

  His duty, which his former master bestowed upon his shoulders, was to protect his mistress.

  As soon as he saw that woman, he knew that isn’t the woman he wants to touch. Still, he did nothing of the sorts when that wild woman wielded her pistol around. All Carol could think of was to be still and survive.

  What he didn’t take into account, was that his mistress could be affected by the incident.

  What he failed to understand was why.

  His mistress was a woman of the world. She kissed many women and did much more. Why would this event affect her so?

  ‘Be wary before the woman that you don’t want to touch,’ his master would say. ‘Don’t succumb the impulse to follow the strict pattern. If there is a woman you don’t want to touch find another way of getting rid of her. Her flames are probably too bright to handle and only the mistress can stand them. For that kind of a woman, you must find another exit that doesn’t include the dark room.’

  2.2 The Investigator

  White Phoenix

  “Kirkpatrick, Cynthia Kirkpatrick,” she repeated loudly her name for the old nun to hear her.

  “I’m old, not deaf, my dear,” the nun told her. “What do you want to do with the baby?”

  “I don’t want to keep it. I have no means to support it,” Cynthia said wishing that there is a way to just make it disappear.

  Her life would just continue like she never had fallen from grace. Then she would get back to her parents saying I was just joking, nothing happened.

  “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll find the baby a nice home,” the nun said. “You can stay here but earn the food you’re eating you will have to work as hard as others.”

  “I’ll do everything I have to,” Cynthia said eagerly.

  Few days wondering through streets, receiving offers from strangers, and being spat at by familiar faces made her want security more than anything else.

  “Tricia Harmon,” Tricia said weakly to the nurse.

  “What happened my dear?” the nurse asked her caressing her hair.

  “How did I get here?” she looked around.

  “You collapsed on the church steps. They carried you in. What happened?”

  Tricia looked down fighting tears. Must her shame never end?

  “I gave birth two days ago. The bleeding just won’t stop.”

  The hand on her hair stopped mid-movement. Slowly, the nurse withdrew her hand.

  “The bleeding is normal after birth. What did you do with the baby? Where should we search for the baby?” her voice was accusing her.

  “They took the baby,” Tricia was now openly crying. “Father’s family took it. They didn’t want me.”

  The nurse looked at her with conflicting emotions casting shadows on her face.

  “As long as the baby is safe it’s all alright. It’s better than to throw you out with it on your hands,” her voice was now cold. “We’ll help you get better but you can’t stay here. It would be best for all for you to disappear somewhere where no one knows you.”

  ‘Dear Jolene,

  I’m well. The road is broad enough for many passengers.

  Here are some of my earnings to make up for my absence.

  I had to leave my mother to tend for herself since this is a work too hard for her to handle.

  Please write her a letter, to know that I’m well and found a new job that will pay off soon.

  I’ll be in touch as soon as I gather some more packages. Then I’ll make up to you. I hope the children are well. Give them my love.

  The most important thing we have is our freedom.

  I’ll keep on fighting for them in the only way I know how.

  Forever yours,

  Evan.’

  When the letter came Santos’ mother broke a vase in anger.

  She turned to Santos with fiery in her eyes.

  “I know that he is your father but he is dead for me. I won’t hear you speak of him again.”

  “But mama,” Santos was shocked. “It’s only one more route.”

  “And then one more,” his mother cried. “A year ago he promised that was his last round and we haven’t seen him since.”

  “He sends money,” Santos defended his father.


  “No, money isn’t enough. We need the protection of a man. It’s been months since we last saw him and before that he would just come by once a year to greet us for the longest time.”

  “Our uncle is protecting us, mama,” Santos persisted.

  “I can’t forever be at his burden to help us. I can’t even earn money on my own just because I’m married to that vagabond that knows only to roam. I’ll go and report him missing. In time, before I grow old, he’ll be declared dead. I’ll be able to remarry and you’ll have new siblings. Everything will be better.”

  His mother Jolene Armando de la Cruz was a woman who gave her children her mother’s surname instead of her father’s because she deemed him unworthy of getting legacy through his grandchildren.

  “He was a drunkard and a vagabond. He didn’t carry his weight so his name means nothing to us,” she would say to his father when his two younger sisters would get baptised.

  Father would shake his head and comply.

  That’s why Santos believed her when she said that she’ll declare him dead. For all Santos knew, she might make his sister and him to denounce their father’s name as well.

  Santos won’t allow that. Their father wasn’t a drunkard who roamed in search of wine and women, his name was honourable.

  “No, mama, I’ll go and search for him. I’ll bring him home before they declare him dead.”

  “What are you, just a boy,” his mother tried to hug him. “Stay at home with me and we’ll be fine.”

  “No,” he pulled himself out of her embrace. “I’m a man now and you can’t stop me. I’ll write you letters as I search for him.”

  “There’s no way of you to find him. He’s constantly in the hollows and in the woods. You’ll miss him every time. Stay at home and go to work if you are a man.”

  “I’ll find him, you’ll see. I’m a good investigator. I’ll start by carrying a letter to grandma and some money so she would believe his story. You wouldn’t want for her to worry all alone and to die not knowing what became of him? You do like grandma.”

  His mother stood there indecisive. His grandma was the only person he ever saw his mother respectful before.

  “It’s not right that he left her alone,” his mother started finally. “She’s old and fragile. Harm might come to her.”

  “Then give me your blessing and I’ll go and care for her.”

  “You’re a good boy. She’s your elder and you must honour her spirit always here and beyond. Go and send her my greetings. I’ll pack you a bag and a letter for her. She’s a wise woman, she’ll set you straight. If you find a job there send us some of your earnings. Your sisters are small, their mouths are hungry.”

  Santos bowed before her and she gave him her blessing.

  As he left, he knew that it was one mouth to feed less for her but also that he is a man who is the time to make his own strides in the world.

  2.3 The Scent

  Between Tiles

  In the town, Evan walked with his head slumped as he was a restless slave out of his own running an errand.

  No one even batted an eye in his direction.

  More and more he wondered why he isn’t going alone on these missions. His mother was much more noticeable than he was.

  His appearance fitted well with the place.

  There were a lot of white owners but they just assumed he was someone else’s slave. Evan walked around avoiding in spending too much time in one place or making circles.

  Soon, he was at the sheriff’s office.

  Everything was ordinary. Lazy patrolmen and the local sheriff in their rocking chairs.

  Who were the men chasing them in the woods then?

  Evan crouched in the back alley behind an abandoned porch and decided to wait for the posse to return, with his mother or without her.

  In either case, he’ll find out more and will be in a better position to save her if needed.

  It was already night when he heard dogs barking.

  Evan peeked around the corner hidden in the darkness. None of the dogs reacted to his presence.

  The patrolmen under the light were dirty and sour. His mother wasn’t among them but a man turned around and the light fell on his white features.

  Evan stood and stared at the familiar face that matured since the last time he saw him. Evan’s heart pounded. No one had to tell him his name.

  Luiz Terdreau stood there like he’s owning the world, confident and relaxed he was talking to patrolmen.

  Evan knew that he has come for him, again. The man had no bounds, no one could stop his hungry pursuit but mother outsmarted even him.

  That was the reason she went to build this route. Her solutions were always unpredictable.

  Evan paused some more observing his every move. When they entered the office he looked through the window to try to read Luiz’s face.

  It was a risk because Evan’s face did mean something to Luiz. As he watched Luiz, Evan could see him putting one of the scarfs, which his mother made to sell on the market, on the table.

  Of course, he recognized the rectangular pattern, her own design.

  His mother always had to earn money, this way or another, even when they would be on the rails taking slaves to freedom.

  Evan was irritated by it but never thought much of that. Now it was apparent that she had left a trail behind them, a trail that anyone interested enough could follow and Luiz was more than interested. He was obsessed.

  It was best for Evan and his mother not to roam this way again, more so, it’s imperative for Evan to stop her from entering York County ever again.

  Now, he only has to find her.

  If patrolmen failed, how will Evan succeed?

  There was her gibberish talk of a white house at the end of the road. It seemed like a joke but now Evan had no choice but to check it out.

  It was really a stroke of luck that Luiz was able to acquire the scent for his hunt.

  Or the hand of God, as he preferred to think about it.

  He was over the border to spread around some warranty posters. Although they were heathens who were falling deeper and deeper into sin and decadence some among them might want cash badly enough to extradite criminals before his door.

  That was the best way of collecting a bounty.

  You would just collect criminals, give a puny bounty to the hunters and then go before the judge to collect the hefty reward.

  While his men put up posters, Luiz went to take a stroll through the market and there they were, all spread out on display the three of them.

  The scarfs with the all familiar pattern.

  If there was only one Luiz might miss it but the three of them took on the central part of the stand.

  “Where did you get these?” he approached them but didn’t dare to touch the fabric.

  “There is a very skilled woman, she acquires me those but who knows when she will be back again. She’s very mysterious, this woman. This supply might be the last one and they always sell so quickly. If you want them to be worn by your mistress act quickly because those ones over there are already eying the fabric,” she winked to some women.

  “Don’t be silly woman,” Luiz reprimanded her. “Describe me the woman.”

  “I doubt that she is your type,” the woman mocked him. “She might as well be your mother puppet. She’s tanned but I might say that her tan isn’t from the Sun if you know what I mean. She’s a wild woman you wouldn’t want to see in a back alley. You would be the one to press against the wall as she passes. Her eyes are dark, her hair curly and she always carries a pistol at her side. A bit wore-out a pocket pistol. The kind that you can’t be seen nowadays when everyone is carrying copies around.”

  Luiz’ eyes widened as he reached for his wallet.

  “Was she in the company of a younger man?” he let the bills to stick out of his wallet.

  The woman eyed the bills.

  “Once in a while, there is a handsome hunk by her side. Tall, dark as night
and vicious as they get. His beard is always long but neatly trimmed. His eyes look like star-night if you’re into such things. Sadly, it appears that he’s only her son and not an adventurous man who admires maturity,” the woman adjusted her hair.

  “I’ll pay double if you’re willing to describe the two of them to my scribbler,” Luiz took out the bills and started to count them.

  “Let me pack these for you,” the woman reached out for the scarfs but Luiz grabbed her hands.

  “Don’t touch them,” he said and carefully without touching them put them in the fresh odourless bag and put inside of his satchel.

  III. Impatience is the Virtue of the Young

  11/14/1858

  Mrs Josephine,

  I remember now how I was young when we met. We were both so young.

  I can barely understand the way I behaved but what is certain is that the youth is impatient.

  I grew old and, hopefully, not bitter.

  When I look upon those days, I’m more grateful for the lesson than sorrowful before unfortunate events that followed my downfall.

  I must confess that lately, I’m satisfied with my life and that you need not worry about my wellbeing.

  Good of you to ask.

  With care,

  Lydia.

  3.0 The Moment of Stillness

  In the boudoir, Belva felt as she is further and further away from her reality. The lady smelled divine. Her royal cleavage was constantly under Belva’s nose as she worked around her.

  The pain was welcomed it sobered her up, but not for long. Belva asked where she should sleep feeling how she can’t fight off fatigue anymore. She didn’t expect the barn anymore, but she was still surprised when the lady offered her own bed with the baldachin. Belva wasn’t even tempted to be polite enough to try to reject the offer. The bed seemed divine. It was so long since she slept in a real bed, let alone a soft bed like this one.

  Belva was all too aware that she’s dirty and battered, the bath would be a relief, but she feared that if she would attempt to bathe that she would just fall asleep and drown.