Veiled Eyes

by C. L. Bevill

  “I’ve never heard of that one before,” Gabriel admitted. “They say some of us can see spirits.”

  “Ghosts?” That amused Anna, but she was also wondering if the family had even more unusual powers. Laurant seemed to have no control over what he said for a moment, as if he were forgetting about his own mother, like he had been brainwashed. “I’d like to see a ghost.”

  “Not like Ghostbusters, chère,” Gabriel advised gravely. “Mostly they’re more sinister than that. Evil twisted ones they say are the ones who stay behind.”

  Gabriel studied Anna’s profile as she turned to look at what his parents were doing. “Would you like to dream of a funeral, Anna?”

  Anna almost stopped breathing. She immediately forgot that someone in the family could have some very unusual powers. “Not because your mother wishes it.”

  His fingers gently kneaded her shoulder. Gabriel leaned over and kissed her forehead tenderly. His only comment was, “Hmm.”

  Then when Jean and Cecily Bergeron came into the dining room, Gabriel pulled out a chair for Anna and they talked about the upcoming Mardi Gras festival in Unknown. It was a big money maker for the town and brought tourists in from as close as Shreveport and as far away as Little Rock and Tallahassee.

  •

  It was a few days after the dinner with Gabriel’s parents that Anna had an idea.

  The family wouldn’t talk about Arette Tuelle. She had learned that fact early on. Even Gabriel had said his peace and would comment no more. He’d shrugged at her and said, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, chère.”

  But what about Arette’s own family? The birth certificate listed Arette’s birthplace as Natchitoches, Louisiana. Anna’s hope was that it was an uncommon name and there might still be relatives in the area. Natchitoches wasn’t far from Unknown and Anna borrowed Gabriel’s truck. Once she’d been able to get a copy of her Texas birth certificate and a duplicate social security card, she’d gone to get a driver’s license, using Gabriel’s truck. He didn’t mind her taking the vehicle while he worked on his ships to run various errands.

  While she drove to Natchitoches, Anna berated herself silently. Now why didn’t I think of this sooner?

  Because you’re not a private detective.

  Whistling man. Anna tried to let her thoughts go blank and failed miserably.

  Secrets. Someone’s got a secret. You might as well have lit fireworks over your head, Anna.

  You know I want to find out as much as I can about my parents.

  I know. Go and look, little girl. Maybe that will bring you some rest. Gabriel’s thoughts were resigned. He was getting used to Anna’s way of thinking.

  I’ll drive carefully, she thought. But he was gone and it left her feeling a little alone, something she hadn’t felt for some time now.

  It only took Anna twenty minutes to find Arette Tuelle’s sister. Her name was Geneva Tuelle and Anna got directions from a gas station on how to find the house. It was an older section of Natchitoches, which wasn’t saying much since the whole town dated from the 1700s. It was the oldest permanent settlement in the entire Louisiana Purchase, a decorative anachronism sitting on the Cane River Lake.

  Anna pulled Gabriel’s truck up to the sidewalk and looked out the side. It was a two-story house, which appeared as much as a century old. The style was a combination between art deco and old plantation that distracted Anna for a moment. The boxwood hedges and great hedge balls along the walkway were neatly trimmed, and the yard maintained its emerald green color despite the time of year. All of it broadcasted the middle class wealth of the owners.

  When Anna rang the doorbell, she didn’t know what to expect. But it wasn’t the woman with the dyed chestnut hair and blue eyes who glared at her and said, “I should have known one of ya’ll would come a-calling one day.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Friday, January 23rd – Saturday, February 21st

  They say that when the rain falls on a gravestone it can tell the future. If it collects on the north side, then it is a good omen for the first person to visit. If it collects on the south side then let that man beware because death follows his heels.

  Geneva Tuelle was somewhere in her forties. Anna’s mother would have been forty-six this year. Arette’s sibling could have been a year older than that or a year younger, Anna simply couldn’t tell. The other woman was a few inches over five feet with dyed hair the color of lightly roasted chestnuts. Her blue eyes were a shade that would turn more blue or gray depending on the clothing she wore. She invited Anna inside with a condescending wave of her hand.

  Inside the foyer Anna hesitated. She looked around and saw a polished wooden floor covered with a Persian rug. The cream colored walls were decorated with small paintings showing portraits of people dressed in garb Anna guessed were a century and more old. Spindly-legged tables perched against the walls, buffed, glossy wooden creations that would only hold the weight of a single book.

  For a moment Anna was cowed. Her mother had come from people who were rich. All around her was the evidence that glittered, glistened, and glowed with its wealth.

  Anna, came Gabriel’s reassuring thought. Being rich doesn’t mean goodness of heart.

  I can handle this, she gritted inside her mind. Gabriel’s thoughts vanished.

  When Anna finally turned back to Geneva, she found the older woman studying her in turn. “They have a phrase for you people,” Geneva said and her chin went up imperceptibly.

  Anna looked at the elegant blue dress that Geneva wore and would have glanced down at her T-shirt and jeans if Geneva hadn’t continued. “Lake People. They call ya’ll Lake People. It’s a quaint phrase. I know a sociologist over to the university who says he’s tried to study the society of the lake for years but ya’ll have shut him out. That isn’t very southern-like, dear.”

  “Your sister was Arette Tuelle,” said Anna at last.

  Geneva folded her hands over her midriff and her lips pursed with distaste. “It’s a pleasure to know you have the ability to speak.” Then her face creased in curiosity. “But you don’t sound like the rest of your brethren. Damned if you don’t sound like a Yankee.”

  “I was raised in West Texas,” said Anna. “Far West Texas. Not much of an accent there, unless you happen to be first-generation Hispanic.”

  “Let’s go into the parlor, dear.” Geneva’s face became seamless again. She motioned gently with her hand, allowing Anna to precede her.

  The parlor was like the foyer except more so. More antiques. More polish and gloss. Gold edging decorated everything. Anna thought it was very pretty but had a momentary difficulty of its practicality. How does one use anything without worrying if they will break it?

  “Sit down, please,” said Geneva neutrally. Anna picked a gilt-covered couch with velvet material the color of blood. She carefully perched on the edge while Geneva selected a similar styled chair across from her. The older woman smoothed her dress and sat, delicately crossing her ankles as if she were sitting down for afternoon tea. “I’d offer you something to drink, dear, but I don’t think you’ll be staying long.” She hesitated and added, “I thought you people always stayed near the bayous or near the lake itself. Such a dark, mysterious place that lake. I saw it once with my sister, back in the day. Right before she met one of your kin, I suspect. I’ve forgotten his name.”

  “Gautier Debou,” Anna said flatly. Any hopes of useful information from this cold-hearted woman were quickly fading away. She was a wall of ice that was seemingly impenetrable.

  “Oh yes. A close relation?”

  “I don’t think so,” Anna said. “My name is Anna St. Thais. My mother was your sister.”

  Geneva’s eyes went wide for a single moment. Then she composed herself once more, becoming the society matron once again. “Well, Anna, is it? Anna, you’re not going to get any of Papa Tuelle’s money. He disinherited your mama the day after he found out she married that coonass.” She smiled grimly. “You’ll forgiv
e the defamation. But one recognizes trash when one sees it.”

  Anna ignored the dig. “I make my own money. And I’m certainly not interested in being associated with a tight-ass aristocracy that wouldn’t know how to change a light bulb if one were to break.”

  Geneva stared at Anna. Then she laughed. “I believe you might be ‘Rette’s child, after all. She never backed down from a fight.”

  “Did you know she had a child?”

  “I knew her husband scared her. Something else about the Lake People scared her too. She fled clear across the state of Louisiana to get away. I ‘spect you were born in Baton Rouge, when she spent all that time down there. I found out where she’d been when the woman’s shelter contacted me about her belongings. They sent a box to me, oh, goodness, more than twenty years ago. Some clothing. Some other meager things. I don’t recollect exactly what.” Geneva’s eyes went a little bluer as she remembered. Suddenly Anna knew that the older woman had some fondness for her sister. She could see it in her mind. The snobbish act was just that. “But the dumb little chit went back to him for some reason.”

  Anna didn’t say anything. There was more than just a fondness for Geneva’s sister. There was a twinkle of the gift. Anna’s eyes got wide. It seemed that Geneva Tuelle had a little of the gift, not so much that she was actively aware of it, but it was there all the same. Had Anna’s mother also had a little smattering of veiled eyes?

  “The sheriff told us that she had been lost in the bayou, in quicksand or something of the like. They searched for her, but never found her body.” Geneva’s eyes glittered. “I never believed that, of course. After all, look where she spent the last months of her life and the fact that her husband up and vanished right after she disappeared. But one doesn’t talk of these situations. My family certainly never did. Not after that. Hardly before that, either.”

  “Not very forgiving are you?”

  “The Tuelles have never been merciful,” said Geneva arrogantly.

  “Did you talk to her while she was with her husband?” Anna ignored the statement, wishing she hadn’t spoken her thoughts aloud. The ice that had begun to melt was quickly beginning to re-freeze again.

  Geneva stared at Anna again. She grimly contemplated the younger woman, trying to decide what her motives could possibly be and how they related to her in the present. “ ‘Rette called me several times in those two years. I was the only one who would speak to her. I was much younger then and much more naïve.”

  “I need to know who else she was friends with.”

  “She didn’t have any other friends, my dear.” Geneva looked around her and saw a little silver clock on the table. “And it’s far past your welcome.”

  Anna’s hands shot up, palms outward pleadingly. “Wait. This is important. My father wasn’t Gautier Debou. And that spot was left blank on the birth certificate.”

  Geneva took this in, with her lips narrowing into a severe line. “So little Arette found another playmate. How interesting.”

  “Why don’t you cut the hardhearted act?” Anna snarled suddenly. She could see the turmoil inside Geneva’s mind. The older woman was feeling regret and guilt. She hadn’t wanted to be cast out of her family for supporting her younger sister, but she hadn’t wanted to cut her only sister off without so much as another word. Arette’s death had been the death of parts of Geneva as well. She had severely missed Arette and she had mourned her passing. “You cared for her. She talked to you and I’m not asking for national secrets. None of this goes beyond me. I won’t bother your family. I won’t broadcast it to a newspaper. Bastards are born and die a thousand times a day now, and frankly, no one gives a good goddamn anymore.”

  “Well,” said Geneva haughtily. “I think you bear a little resemblance to your mother. I see it in the curve of your face, in the bow of your eyebrows. But it’s most definitely your mannerisms that show you to be her child. And dear, the cursing, well, it’s just not de rigueur.”

  Anna stared back, waiting while Geneva made up her mind.

  “I have the box the shelter sent me,” said Geneva at last. She shrugged. “It doesn’t have much in it and it probably won’t answer your questions. But you can take it with you.”

  “Thank you,” said Anna. “I won’t bother you again.”

  An eyebrow rose. “I should hope not.”

  After Anna was holding the tattered cardboard box in her hands, Geneva held the door open for her. Anna said thank you again and started down the walk, wishing there was something else she could say to this wintry woman. Geneva said from the doorway, “Something happened to ‘Rette.”

  Anna paused and turned back. The older woman’s voice had become a little forgiving; a quaver had become perceptible. Geneva took a step out and said, “A few months before she went to the shelter in Baton Rouge. She was upset. ‘Rette said she prayed to God every day for guidance.”

  Anna scrutinized her aunt. “Did you suspect something in particular?”

  Geneva chewed on her lip, her troubled visage apparent. “If you didn’t know who your father was, then who raised you?”

  “Someone dumped me on the steps of an orphanage in El Paso,” Anna said frankly. “I was raised by nuns.”

  Geneva gasped. “The saints preserve us.”

  “Did you know what she was praying for guidance about?” Anna was insistent.

  “There are topics best not discussed in polite society,” said Geneva, regaining composure with a disdainful expression on her face. “It’s shameful. Something not spoken about in the open.”

  Anna took a step back toward the other woman. Geneva held up a warning hand. “You said you wouldn’t bother me anymore.”

  Anna made a noise of disgust. “I just want information. Why would she dump me in an orphanage hundreds of miles away? What could possibly motivate her to do that?”

  “I don’t believe ‘Rette would ever abandon her child,” Geneva said, her tone soaked with sincerity. “And since you were raised by nuns, you know what it’s like to be a Catholic. The Church doesn’t allow for abortions, even when your husband is not the father of your child.”

  Anna scrutinized Geneva, wishing the other woman’s mind was more obvious. “There were implications about my mother. Not having known her, I don’t know what to believe.”

  Geneva looked at the ground. “Her husband couldn’t conceive. She said he was sterile from having the mumps as a child. So when she became pregnant he naturally thought she had taken a lover.” Her face twisted. “ ‘Rette was all the things I always wished to be. Brave. Forthright. Ready to stand-alone when she had to and terribly impulsive, romantic. Her husband didn’t trust her. He lost his temper with her. Called her a whore and worse. He was a big man then. Since her death I read that he was caught doing questionable things. Drugs. Assaults. In fact, he recently was murdered-” Her eyes rose up and caught Anna’s again. “When did you return here?”

  “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re implying,” said Anna. “The sheriff of St. Germaine Parish seems to think it’s related to a drug-deal gone bad. If you doubt that, I suggest you call him. His number’s in the book.”

  Geneva stood stock-still. “I suppose it could be so. Goodbye, Anna.”

  “Goodbye, Aunt Geneva. If you should change your mind about getting to know me, you can call the general store in Unknown. You know the lake.”

  “It’s a small place, dear.” Geneva folded her hands over her midriff again, struggling to maintain her façade. “And I think it might be more dangerous than you think.”

  •

  Anna found a small parking lot in downtown Natchitoches overlooking part of the scenic Cane River Lake. She dug through the box and found some clothing. It was dated clothing with a little mold on some of it. There wasn’t anything in the pockets and Anna found disappointment overwhelming. At the bottom of the box were two books. One was a well-used paperback on pregnancies. The other one was the same book that Anna had borrowed from Camille, a history of th
e lake.

  Holding the book up, Anna stared at it curiously. Then some photographs fell out. She picked them up by their corners as if they would bite her. One was a photograph of two people at their wedding. The man was large, black haired, and gold eyed dressed in an ill-fitting suit. It was a younger version of Gautier. The woman was petite with the same chestnut colored hair Anna had seen only minutes before. Her eyes were blue and she laughed into the eye of the camera. Dressed in a simple white dress with a lace veil over her hair, she was a pretty bride. My mother. Arette.

  Anna flipped the photo over. Nothing was written there. She frowned.

  The next photo showed a group of people on the lake in a boat. Gautier was there again. So was Arette. There was a woman that Anna didn’t recognize, although she was clearly a member of the family. There were two men who looked dour and unforgiving. Anna checked the back of that one and found nothing.

  The final photo was a single man. Anna’s eyebrows came together in confusion. Why would my mother have a photo of Gaspard Benoit?

  •

  That night as they sat on Anna’s little balcony watching the lake, Gabriel said to her, “It didn’t help, did it?”

  “Yes and no,” Anna answered slowly. “She’s so snobbish, my aunt. She thought I was after the family money.”

  She thought you wanted the silver.

  You got that?

  “Oui, at first. She changed her mind. It was like being inside the mind of a maddened poodle. The dog doesn’t know whether to nip you or lick you.” Gabriel grimaced at the image that presented.

  “She told me something.”

  Gabriel tugged on Anna’s arm forcibly. Her head came around to look at him solidly. “Tell me.”

  Anna swallowed convulsively. The illegitimate child of an adulterous relationship, the child of an outsider. What if you don’t want me anymore when you find out?

  “I swear,” he said slowly. “I will always want you.” A little pained smile crossed his lips. “It cannot be any other way. But rest assured, I’m not unhappy with the situation, chère.”