“I can’t help it,” Ceci shook her head dismally. “I can’t shake this feeling, that Trent’s never coming back.”
“That’s plain foolish,” Hecubah chided. “This is Trent Sinclaire we’re talking about. If the trains stop running. If the river boats sank and all the horses died, he’d walk here. If he broke his legs, why, then he’d crawl. There ain’t nothing gonna stop that boy coming back.”
Clearly, Ceci remained unconvinced. “If I could only see his face again,” she sighed heavily.
“Maybe I can help,” Hecubah suggested, producing a small package from her apron pocket. “You missed this during your rampage downstairs.”
“It’s the picture,” Ceci gasped, tearing at the wrapping. She pulled off the paper, opened the case and there was Trent, resplendent in his new uniform, looking back at her. She caught her breath, feeling her heart begin to glow. “Oh my, ain’t he handsome,” she sighed again, her eyes growing misty.
“Sure is a good looking boy,” Hecubah agreed. “Still think he ain’t coming back?”
Ceci managed to smile for the first time in days. “I guess I’ve been very foolish,” she admitted, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.
“When it comes to men, we all are, honey,” Hecubah advised her. “You put all them dark thoughts behind you and, in a few days, we’ll go into town and have a picture made of you to send to him. What’d say to that?”
“I’m hungry,” Ceci realised. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”
“I think they done served bacon,” Hecubah told her. “But we can always stop by the stables.”
***
“This is so exciting,” Ceci enthused, as they made their way to the photographer’s studio. “I never had my picture made before, except for that painting my daddy had done when me and Celeste was children.”
“Gonna put the painters outa business.” Hecubah predicted. “I guess they can photograph just about anything these days.”
“Why, I heard some of them are making pictures of naked girls,” Ceci informed her enthusiastically. “I don’t mind. I could lay on a couch, wearing nothing but a pair of black stockings. Wouldn’t that be something to send to Trent?”
“You’d wear stockings for that?” Hecubah stared. “I’d no idea you was so modest.”
Ceci faltered in the face of this effrontery. “There ain’t no call for that,” she pouted, “it was just a thought.”
“Trent is gonna get a beautiful picture of his future wife,” Hecubah told her firmly. “Something he can be proud of. Something he can show his parents,” she emphasised. “If he wants any more than that, he’ll have to rely on his memory, which, as I recall,” she raised her eyebrows at Ceci. “Is quite extensive.”
“Like I said,” Ceci blushed. “It was just a thought.”
“Try thinking of something else for a change,” Hecubah suggested.
The photographer’s studio was full of strange paraphernalia, the walls crammed with examples of his work.
“It’s truly amazing,” Ceci stared in wonder. “They’re so lifelike, just as if all these people were frozen in time.”
“That’s exactly right,” the photographer greeted them. “They may age and die,” he waved his hand at the portraits. “But these pictures are eternal. That’s the miracle of modern science. A.D. Lytle, at your service.”
They had come with the express purpose of having Ceci’s picture made, but now they were there, she insisted that she and Hecubah have one taken together first.
“We can look at it, when we’re old and grey,” she told her, as Lytle set up his equipment. “And remember how we used to be.”
“Don’t reckon I need any reminding,” Hecubah doubted. “Past few months’ bin burned into my soul.”
“Hush now,” Ceci chided, taking her position in front of a canvas backdrop, painted with an idyllic country scene. “You come over here and put your arm around me.”
“Stand perfectly still,” Lytle instructed, one hand poised on the lens cap, flash pan raised in the other.
Suddenly there was a tremendous burst of light, as a great ball of white smoke rolled up to the ceiling.
“God almighty.” Hecubah flinched. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“Of course, silly,” Ceci assured her. “That’s what makes the picture.”
“Who is this portrait for?” Lytle enquired, as Hecubah stood down, leaving Ceci alone.
“My Fiancé,” she replied.
“Then, may I suggest,” he began, indicating how she should pose. “That you stand with your back towards the camera, looking over your shoulder. It makes a most appealing study, favoured by many of my clients.”
Ceci did as he asked. He changed the backdrop to a Grecian temple, making it appear as if she were about to enter.
“She seems a little tense,” he confided to Hecubah. “I feel her expression could be…” he thought about it, “well, more alluring,” he suggested. “Considering who it’s for.”
“Ceci, honey. Turn a little more and look directly at me,” Hecubah told her. “That’s right. Now, remember, it’s not me you’re looking at. It’s Trent.”
“That’s much better,” Lytle smiled appreciatively, noticing the instant change in Ceci’s expression. “My word, she’s a pretty girl. That pose would melt the heart of a stone.”
“Just keep thinking of you and Trent in the garden,” Hecubah coaxed, until the flash powder ignited once more, capturing the image for posterity.
“I can have these pictures ready in four hours,” Lytle told them. “Two large and two pocket sized, framed and mounted.”
“Good, that gives us time to eat lunch,” Hecubah concluded.
They left the photographer’s studio and continued down the main street.
“Well, would you look at that.” Hecubah paused outside the newspaper office, studying the broad sheet that had been tacked to the bulletin board. “Abraham Lincoln has just bin elected President of the United States.”
Chapter Ten
“A little more to the left,” Hecubah directed, tightening her hold on Ceci’s waist.
Ceci stood on her toes, feeling the stool wobble a little, as she stretched up to place a painted wooden star on top of the tree. “There?” she grunted with the effort.
“That’s fine,” Hecubah agreed, helping her down.
“My daddy made that star for my mama, the first Christmas they spent together,” she told Hecubah, as they stood back to admire their handiwork. “When we was small, Celeste and me used to wish on it for the thing we wanted most.”
“That’s one tradition you’ll be able to revive, after tomorrow,” Hecubah pointed out. “Miss Celeste and her husband are arriving in the morning. Though why she wanted to travel in her condition, is beyond me.”
“She’s expecting a baby, is all,” Ceci made light of it. “I guess she’s already got the thing she wanted most.”
“Wanting and having, are two different things,” Hecubah warned. “Babies are a lot of work.”
“You’re sounding old again,” Ceci cautioned. “I know for a fact you don’t mean that.” She looked back at the tree they had just decorated with strips of coloured paper, little bags of sugar sweets, gingerbread angels and tiny wax candles. “All the family back together again,” she sighed happily. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
“I reckon you could be right at that,” Hecubah agreed.
“Can we put the presents under the tree now?” Ceci asked eagerly.
“No,” Hecubah replied firmly, “I told you before. Not until Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, why’ d we have to wait so long?” Ceci complained impatiently.
“Because you always come in here, feeling them all, trying to find out what’s inside,” Hecuba
h reminded her.
“No I don’t,” Ceci attempted to refute the allegation.
“You do to,” Hecubah wouldn’t be swayed. “You’ve done it every year since you was a little girl. It’s the one thing about you, that ain’t never changed.”
“Has my daddy bought me that dress, I asked for?” she tried a different approach.
“I don’t know,” Hecubah shrugged.
“Yes, you do,” Ceci insisted.
“Then, I ain’t saying,” she replied stubbornly. “It’s a surprise. Christmas is all about surprises.”
As if to confirm her statement, the first one arrived only minutes later, heralded by a knock at the front door. A group of men were ushered in, as Ceci’s father came out of his day room to meet them.
“I recognise some of them men,” Ceci remarked ominously, as they peaked out into the hall.
“They’ve done it,” the leader of the group announced solemnly. “On this day, December 20, 1860, South Carolina has seceded from the Union,” he paused, as if to savour the moment. “It’s begun.”
Her father invited them into his day room and closed the door, as another heated debate got under way.
“What’s begun?” Ceci asked anxiously. “What’s going to happen?”
“Pay it no mind,” Hecubah counselled, “it’s just one state.”
“A mighty important one,” Ceci was wise enough to know.
“This is just political wrangling,” Hecubah advised her. “One half of the country trying to get leverage on the other. South Carolina’s left the Union. As soon as they agree on terms, with Congress, they’ll come back.”
“And if they don’t?” Ceci asked flatly.
“Now, don’t you go worrying all over again,” Hecubah told her. “It’s just a lot of old men, full of hot air,” she finished dismissively. “Now, help me put up this mistletoe.”
“What’s the point of that?” Ceci frowned. “Ain’t going to be no one here but family.”
“Well, I’m sure your daddy would like a kiss,” Hecubah suggested. “I know I would.”
Ceci rolled her eyes. “You know, as well as I do,” she told her. “It ain’t for that kind of kissing.”
“Oh, now I remember,” Hecubah recalled. “You prefer the French manner.”
“Not so loud,” Ceci glanced furtively around. “Someone might hear you.”
“Let’s put it up anyway,” Hecubah persisted. “It’s traditional, and while you’re at it,” she added, “you can hang your stocking over the fireplace and put out some sugar plums for Saint Nicholas.”
“That’s just for children,” Ceci sighed in exasperation.
“Oh, I forgot, you is all grown up now,” Hecubah observed. “I guess the only thing you wants in your stocking these days is Trent’s hand, but I doubt he’d stop there.”
“Hecubah, please,” Ceci blushed, uncharacteristically prudish, “that’s hardly in keeping with the Christmas spirit.”
“I guess not,” Hecubah shrugged, aware that Ceci was no longer worrying about the state of the nation.
***
As soon as Celeste arrived, Ceci realised that in all her nineteen years, she’d never actually seen a pregnant woman, at least, not this close. Celeste was huge. The spectacle both alarmed and fascinated her, at one and the same time. It evoked in her a host of new and unfamiliar emotions. Thoughts she’d never entertained before.
“My condition ain’t contagious,” Celeste remarked, holding out her arms.
Ceci couldn’t even hug her sister in the usual way. She had to stand to one side. “Does that hurt?” she wondered.
“Of course, not,” Celeste smiled. “Plays havoc with my back though.” She took Ceci’s hands and placed them on her bulge. “It’s the most natural thing in the world,” she assured her. “You’ll find out, soon enough.”
The way Ceci felt now, the prospect held a certain appeal. She glanced at Clay. He looked just the same. Tall, square jawed, with dark hair and brown eyes. In Celeste’s day, he’d been the pick of the crop. He was still a handsome man. Not that she was attracted to him, she never had been, but now fatherhood had endowed him with a new quality, a potency that excited her. It was something that Trent had yet to acquire. Something she knew she could provide, given the chance.
“Clay ain’t contagious either,” Celeste broke into her trance. “Now give your brother-in-law a kiss and say hello.”
“I’m sorry,” Ceci blinked. “My mind must have been wandering. I don’t know what came over me.”
Celeste smiled, patting her stomach. “I think I do,” she told her.
Once Celeste and Clay had retired to their room to rest and refresh themselves from the rigours of their journey, Ceci drew Hecubah to one side. “Did you see the size of her?” she shivered. She pressed her hands against her waist, looking down at her figure. “Do you think I’ll be that big if I get pregnant?”
“Possibly,” Hecubah guessed, “but I don’t reckon it’s a question of if, just when.”
“That was uncalled for,” Ceci objected.
“I saw the way you were looking at your sister,” Hecubah told her. “Now don’t you go getting all broody on me. Things is complicated enough.”
“You were looking at her too,” Ceci retorted.
“I was just being polite,” she sniffed.
“No you weren’t,” Ceci scowled. “You couldn’t take your eyes off her, and now you’re blushing. You feel just the same way I do.”
“That’s enough,” Hecubah held up a warning finger.
“Don’t matter anyway.” Ceci hung her head sullenly. “As things stand, we don’t have a man between us.”
“Oh, don’t start that again,” Hecubah sighed. “Trent’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, you can do anything you like with him. Just so long as you remember, that what Miss Celeste is doing, is for a married woman, not a single girl.”
Ceci glanced up at her, her eyes full of mischief. “Anything I like?” she asked.
“God almighty,” Hecubah swore in frustration. “Child, you is incorrigible.”
“That’s what Trent said,” Ceci grinned.
***
Having rested, Celeste and her husband returned downstairs. They all gathered in the parlour, as Hecubah brought in a tray of fresh eggnog.
Mr Prejean raised his glass. “To my new grandchild,” he announced proudly. “A long and happy life.”
“I doubt if it’ll be the only one, Daddy,” Celeste told him. “And I’m sure Ceci will eventually add to the pile.”
“She don’t know how close you already come, to doing just that,” Hecubah whispered in Ceci’s ear, stepping nimbly aside, just before Ceci jerked her elbow at her.
***
“You been feeling these, as usual?” Celeste asked, as she helped Ceci place the presents under the tree.
“Of course, not,” Ceci contested. “I grew past that, years ago.”
“I take it from that,” her sister divined. “You mean Hecubah wouldn’t let you get your hands on them until Christmas Eve and even then, only when I’m here.”
“You’d think she’d trust me by now,” Ceci sighed, seeing no point in denying the truth.
“Can she?” Celeste pressed her.
“I guess not,” Ceci felt bound to admit.
“Oh, Ceci,” Celeste laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”
“So, I’ve been told,” Ceci sighed again.
They stood back, satisfied with the arrangement.
“You put Mama’s star up,” Celeste noticed.
“I thought it only right,” Ceci told her. “This is the first time, since you got married, that we’ve all been together for Christmas.” She neglected to mention, that having everyone she loved around her on
ly made her feel Trent’s absence more acutely.
“You miss him very much, don’t you?” It was the tone of Ceci’s voice that prompted her sister’s question.
“I feel like I got a big hole, right in the middle of my chest,” she admitted dejectedly. “There’s nothing I can do to fill it up. At least you fell in love with a man who lived nearby. Months pass before I see Trent, and then it’s only for a few weeks at a time.”
“I don’t think we really choose who we fall in love with,” Celeste suggested. “It just happens.”
“It’s that devil,” Ceci scowled. “Ol’ Magic.”
“Now, that’s Hecubah talking,” Celeste recognised the reference.
“She’s right though, ain’t she?” Ceci insisted.
“I guess so,” Celeste humoured her. “There’s just no accounting for who we fall for. You and Trent will be married soon,” she reminded her. “Then, you can be with him all the time.”
In her present state of mind, Ceci gained little consolation from the thought.
“I need a breath of air,” Celeste decided. “Will you accompany me while I walk in the garden?”
“Now?” Ceci stared. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“Please,” Celeste urged, taking her arm. “It’ll do us both good. Take me on a tour of my old hunting grounds.”
Celeste seemed bent on revisiting every foot of the garden. They were out there for almost an hour. Ceci didn’t mind, too much. She was aware that women in Celeste’s condition were often prone to strange fancies, and she was happy to indulge her.
“My my.” Celeste paused halfway across the lawn. “I’ve broken so many hearts in this garden, there ought to be a monument erected.”
Ceci stared into the twilight. All she could see, were the places she and Trent had frequented. It made her heart ache all the more.
“Do you feel it?” Celeste touched Ceci’s arm. “He’s still out here.”
Ceci glanced around. “Who?”
“Why, Ol’ Magic, of course,” Celeste laughed. “He’s still prowling around. He’s already stung us both, but he don’t want to go away.”
Whippoorwill Page 9