They Call Her Dana

by Jennifer Wilde

  “Seems a mighty peculiar occupation for a grown man,” I observed.

  “So family and friends constantly remind me.”

  “You do it for a livin’?”

  “It’s an avocation,” he explained.

  “Oh,” I said.

  He grinned, knowing full well I didn’t understand the word. “It’s something I do to occupy my time,” he explained. “Fortunately I don’t have to make a ‘living.’”

  “You rich?”

  “Solvent,” he said. “That means there’s enough to keep body and soul together but not enough for inordinate luxuries. There used to be quite a lot of money, but I fear the family fortunes have been considerably reduced.”

  “I’d like to be rich,” I said.

  “Indeed?”

  “I’d like to have a pair of nice shoes with high heels and two dresses and a—a real silk petticoat.”

  “That doesn’t sound too unreasonable.”

  “And—and I’d like to have a parasol,” I said wistfully. “I know it’s silly of me, but—I’ve always wanted a parasol.”

  I sighed, lounging against the bag, watching a heron wading at the edge of the lake, its long bill dipping into the water in search of fish. Julian dipped the oar into the water, studying me with bemused brown eyes. A lock of chestnut hair had fallen across his brow, giving him a curiously boyish look. He studied me for some time, silent, and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he like what he saw? Did he want to pop my cherry, too, like all the other men? Genteel and kindly he might be, but there was undeniable virility in that large, strong body, in the lines of that handsome face.

  “Just how old are you?” I asked suddenly.

  He looked surprised, then amused. “I’m forty-one,” he told me.

  “That old?”

  A grin played on his lips, and his brown eyes were full of amusement. “I know it’s ancient,” he confessed, “but I figure I have a few good years left. How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Goodness! Seems you’re getting on, too.”

  “Most girls my age’re already married, already have a couple-a kids hangin’ on to ’em. Bessie Barker got married at thirteen—had to, her pa had a shotgun handy—and she’s got four kids. Bessie ain’t but two or three months older’n I am.”

  “Gracious,” he said.

  “Are you married?”

  “I’ve managed to avoid that fate so far,” he replied, “despite innumerable lush candidates shoved my way by meddlesome friends and matchmaking relatives.”

  “If you ain’t married, I suppose you’ve gotta mistress, then?”

  “Really, child, you do ask a lot of questions.”

  “Do you?”

  “Have a mistress? On occasion I greatly enjoy the company of an attractive and companionable woman, but I do not—ahem—I do not currently have one stashed away in an apartment.”

  “You’re so good-lookin’, I imagine a lotta women’d like to marry you, imagine a lot of ’em would like to be your mistress, too.”

  “A moment ago I was seriously contemplating tossing you overboard,” he informed me, “but you have just redeemed yourself. You must learn not to ask so many questions, though, child, and you mustn’t be quite so outspoken. Another man might—uh—misinterpret you.”

  “He’d get a knee in the groin if he did,” I promised. “No man’s goin’ to misinterpret me unless I want him to.”

  Julian Etienne chuckled, though I failed to see anything to chuckle about. I decided he was probably making fun of me, and I didn’t like that one bit. He might be a real swell gent in those fancy clothes and he might be real educated and read a lot of books and things, but that didn’t give him the right to make fun of a girl. I might not-a been to school, but I wudn’t—wasn’t dumb, and I gave him a very frosty look and the silent treatment as he continued to paddle across the lake.

  The canoe glided smoothly over the water, moving toward a line of cypresses with enormous, exposed gray roots. Was he going to steer us right in to shore? I wondered. No, he moved right through a narrow opening between the roots, and we were moving now down a narrow finger of water leading out of the lake. The land on either side of us was soggy with mud and covered with tall grayish-tan grass. Cattails grew in profusion, and the cypress trees grew very close, gnarled roots projecting into the water. It was dim and shadowy here, very little light penetrating the gloom. I kept an eye peeled for alligators.

  “Sure you know where you’re going?” I asked nervously.

  “Quite sure.”

  “Looks like we’re goin’ to run out of water any minute now. That ground is all muddy, wouldn’t hold a person’s weight, and—look out, you’re gonna run into that tree.”

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Gradually the finger of water grew wider, deeper, and the cypresses weren’t so thick. Insects buzzed loudly, flying about us in swarms, and birds cried out noisily. Shafts of sunlight began to penetrate the gloom, and soon we were moving across the surface of yet another lake, just as he had promised. Water lilies spangled the water close to shore, pink and pale orange, floating on splayed dark pads. Beginning to grow uncomfortable, I sat up straight, shoving long honey-blond waves back over my shoulders. The sunlight wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been earlier. It seemed hours and hours since we had left the campsite. Julian patiently dipped the paddle in and out of the water, seemingly tireless. I would have offered to take over, but I had never handled a canoe before, and I felt sure I’d capsize us immediately.

  “How long before we reach that town?” I asked him.

  “Two or three more hours—around sundown. Tired?”

  “I ain’t complainin’.”

  “What do you plan to do when you reach town?” he inquired.

  “Get a job,” I told him.

  “Just like that?”

  “Like I told you before, I’m a very good worker. I can keep any house as clean as can be, and I’m also a wonderful cook. My greens are the tastiest you ever tasted. I use a bit of vinegar, you see, gives ’em a special flavor, and my cornbread is—you’re laughing at me again.”

  “Not at you, child. I’m sure your cornbread is delicious.”

  “It is. I can bake pies, too. I can feed chickens and milk cows. I can churn butter. I—there’s not much I cain’t do. Anyone willin’ to work hard as I’m willin’ to work is bound to get a job. I ain’t worried one bit.”

  “Ah, the optimism of youth. I had forgotten how stirring it can be. And where do you plan to sleep tonight?”

  “I—I don’t rightly know, but I’m sure something will turn up.”

  “Likely it will,” he said.

  The canoe rocked and bobbed on the water, and the soft splashing sound as he paddled was curiously lulling. It was very warm, and I was growing sleepy, my eyelids drooping. He steered the canoe toward an opening between the mournful cypress trees, and water lilies were all around us now, swaying and swirling as we passed through them. I leaned over and plucked one, pale pink, fragrant, toying with it as we passed through the cypresses. We were soon moving down a narrow river with a current so strong he barely had to paddle. I rested against the bag again, trying to make myself comfortable, and Julian smiled at me as my eyelids grew heavier and I yawned.

  It was almost dark when I opened my eyes again. The sky was a misty violet-gray, smeared with pink, and the water was pewter-gray, inky-looking. The cypresses were gone, so was the fetid smell of the swamp. I sat up, stretching my arms, throwing my head back, and the canoe rocked. We were moving down a very wide river, the banks on either side shadowy with trees and shrubs. Up ahead there were many boats, all shapes and sizes, tied up around wooden piers that extended into the water. Beyond them were many buildings, lights in windows making cozy yellow-gold squares against the gathering darkness. The town looked enormous to my eyes. I had never seen so many boats, so many buildings. It was overwhelming.

  “We—we’re almost there,” I said.
>
  “Sure are. You slept like a baby.”

  “I guess I was kinda tired,” I admitted.

  Shadows were falling fast as we reached the waterfront, Julian skillfully steering the canoe around a labyrinth of boats and finally toward a flight of wooden steps that led down from the pier. I could hear voices now, boisterous laughter and the sound of tinkling music, there must be a party going on nearby, I thought as Julian carefully moored the canoe. A husky, gruff-looking man in old clothes and a battered cap came down the steps. He greeted Julian warmly and loudly and looked surprised when he saw me in the canoe.

  “Figured you might be pulling in ’bout now,” the man said roughly. “See she got you there’n back again. Uh—let me help you with them bags, Monsieur Etienne. I’ll carry ’em on to the inn for you.”

  “Thank you, Hawkins. This is Miss O’Malley. She made the trip back with me.”

  “Me, I ain’t askin’ no questions,” Hawkins retorted. “It ain’t none-a my business.”

  “Hawkins owns the canoe,” Julian told me. “He rents it to me whenever I take a jaunt into the swamp.”

  Looking extremely embarrassed, Hawkins unloaded all three of the bags and carried them up the steps. Julian helped me out of the canoe, holding my hand firmly as the craft rocked. Hawkins had already disappeared with the bags when we reached the top of the steps. We were standing on a pier made of wide wooden planks with cracks between them, boats rocking on the water on either side. My legs were a bit unsteady after being confined in the canoe for so long, and the pier seemed to sway. The air was laced with the pungent odors of fish and tar and rotting hemp, and the noise was much louder up here, voices shrill and coarse, laughter raucous, rowdy music coming from half a dozen different establishments.

  Brave and determined I might be, but I suddenly felt very, very vulnerable, and I felt afraid, too. What if he just left me here? What would I do? Where would I go? I had no money. I had no clothes. I knew not a soul in this huge, bewildering place. I felt confident I would eventually find some kind of work, but what was I going to do tonight? Where was I going to sleep? How was I going to find food? All the spunk and spirit drained out of me, and I could feel my lower lip trembling. Julian Etienne wrapped his fingers around my elbow and gripped it tightly. My knees were shaking.

  “Stick close to my side,” he ordered. “The waterfront’s full of undesirable types, even at this early hour.”

  “You—you’re takin’ me to the inn with you?”

  “I intend to see that you have a solid meal and a decent place to sleep tonight, of course. Did you think I was going to abandon you?”

  “You don’t owe me nothin’,” I said.

  “That’s quite true. I do, alas, have a conscience. It causes me ever so much inconvenience. I frequently try to be a cold, heartless cad, but it rarely works. I fear I’m a soft touch.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never you mind. Just stay close to me and keep your eyes down.”

  We left the pier and passed stacks of barrels and piles of ropes and then moved up a cobbled street lined on either side with brightly lighted establishments full of rowdy people. A din assailed our ears, coarse voices and laughter drowning out the music of pounding pianos. Burly men in rough attire swaggered along the pavements, looking formidable indeed. Several of them gave me close scrutiny, but Julian’s stern expression discouraged any overtures. There were women, too, fascinating creatures with painted faces who wore very colorful gowns and feather boas and leaned provocatively against the walls, calling out friendly greetings to the men, including Julian. He ignored them, holding my elbow so tightly I winced and marching me along as though I were a felon he had just arrested.

  “You don’t have to be so rough,” I protested.

  “I thought I told you to keep your eyes down.”

  “I cain’t help lookin’. It’s terribly interestin’. That lady back there was mighty taken with you.”

  “That was no lady,” he retorted.

  “I loved her gown. Think I’d look good in bright red like that?”

  “Keep moving,” he said sternly.

  The inn was on a wide, tree-lined street beyond the waterfront. It was a large, rambling place painted bright yellow with white shutters at the windows and tall white columns around the verandah. It was almost completely dark by the time we got there, and light spilled out of the windows onto the verandah with its cozy, plump-cushioned chairs and tall green plants. Julian led me up the steps and into the main room, and I tried hard not to gape.

  I have never seen such a room in my life. The polished hardwood floor was covered with a lovely gold and white patterned carpet as soft as grass and almost as deep, and from the ceiling hung a crystal waterfall. There were large gold chairs and elegant little tables and in the center of the room a big gold sofa shaped like a circle. There was a long counter of dark, gleaming wood, a long row of boxes behind it. Several people milled about, all of them dressed in handsome attire, and I was acutely aware of my bare feet and tattered dress as Julian led me over to the counter. The man in charge there was taken aback by my appearance, but he managed a nervous smile nevertheless.

  “Ah, Monsieur Etienne—nice to have you back with us again. We’ve sent your bags on up to your usual rooms. I—uh—did you want to take a separate room for the young lady?”

  Julian nodded, completely at ease. The man checked the boxes on the wall behind him and discovered that there was a single room available right next to Julian’s. Julian said that would be fine, accepted the keys the man held out, then scribbled his name in the leather-bound ledger open on the counter. Everyone in the lobby was carefully pretending not to stare, all except one woman who was staring quite openly. She had glossy black hair worn in long ringlets that spilled down her back, and her deep blue eyes were full of wry amusement. A smile curved on her lovely red mouth. She was wearing a rich blue gown with a very full skirt adorned with ruffles of black lace, as was the extremely low-cut bodice. Long black lace gloves covered her bare arms. Catching Julian’s eye, she nodded and moved to intercept us as we headed toward the stairs.

  “It looks like you had quite an interesting trip, Julian,” she observed. “Collecting a new kind of specimen now?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m with a friend, darling. He owns quite a bit of property hereabouts and came down to inspect it. Who is your charming companion?”

  “I—uh—I’ll explain later, Amelia.”

  “That should be very interesting,” she said.

  She had a low, melodious voice and smelled of magnolia blossoms. She was quite the loveliest creature I had ever seen, and she seemed to know Julian extremely well. Her blue eyes examined me, not unkindly, and then she looked up at Julian and shook her head.

  “You are full of surprises, darling,” she said lightly. “I would never have expected it of you.”

  Julian gave her an exasperated look. He was holding my elbow again, gripping it so tightly I felt sure there would be bruises.

  “Look, Amelia, could you—uh—could you wait for me down here? I want to take this child up to her room and order her a bath, and—and then I think I may well need your assistance.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know now why I dumped you,” he said grumpily. “You always were a sarcastic wench.”

  “You didn’t ‘dump’ me, darling. I moved on to greener pastures, and I was absolutely enchanting to you every time we were together. I even helped transcribe those wretched notes of yours, quite a novelty for a lady like me, you’ll have to admit.”

  “Meet me here in ten minutes?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told him.

  He led me up the stairs and down a wide hall with a golden rug and gleaming white walls with doors on either side. I was a little breathless and very much in awe of the plush surroundings, but I still couldn’t control my curiosity about the gorgeous brunette. I asked Julian who she was, and he told me in
no uncertain terms that it was none of my business. Stopping in front of one of the doors, he released my elbow and inserted a key into the lock. I rubbed my elbow, not willing to give it up so easily.

  “She’s very beautiful,” I said.

  “She is indeed.”

  “I’ll bet she was your mistress.”

  “You’re pushing it,” he said.

  “Pushing what?”

  “Your luck. I have a very strong urge to turn you over my knee and spank your bottom, and it’s all I can do to control it.”

  “You wouldn’t do that. You’re a gentleman.”

  “At the moment I’m quite willing to forget that.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. Julian opened the door and gave me a forceful shove. I stumbled inside the room, not at all resentful of such rough treatment. He liked me. I knew that. I liked him, too. He was the nicest man I had ever met, and he did use the funniest expressions. The lady called Amelia had been lucky indeed to have such a man, and I couldn’t imagine how she could possibly have wanted to move on to ‘greener pastures,’ whatever that meant. I wouldn’t mind having a man like Julian Etienne, even if he did have silver temples and a faint double chin.

  “I’m going to order a bath for you,” he said. “A tub and water will be brought to your room, soap and towels as well. Wash yourself thoroughly, and be sure to scrub behind your ears.”

  “I ain’t a child,” I told him.

  He gave me a look. “We’ll eat downstairs in the dining room,” he continued. “I’ll be back to fetch you at eight o’clock.”

  “But—”

  “No arguments. I’m very tired and I’m very irritable. Do as you’re told and we may possibly get through the evening without my committing murder. You be ready, you hear?”

  I nodded obediently, even though I knew I couldn’t possibly eat downstairs in these rags. I had seen how everyone stared at me and I had pretended not to care, but I had. Despite my seeming indifference, I had been deeply humiliated, and I wasn’t going to subject myself to that again. Julian gave me a final exasperated look and left, closing the door behind him, and I sighed and examined the room for the first time.