The child was determined to be difficult. Equally bent upon being patient, Gwen shook her head. “The way he was hugging you last night, I doubt you will be going anywhere. Besides, if he was going to kick anyone out, it would be me, not you. Who would keep this place going, while he was gone? Who would do the cooking and cleaning? I certainly cannot.”
Jude slammed the skillet down on the shelf. “I can’t see why he brought you here, anyway. Why doesn’t he just send you home?”
“He will.” Sooner than not, she feared. “The only brought me here to repay some debt he thinks my family and I owe him.”
“You don’t? Owe him, I mean?”
When nearly denied it, but the girl deserved the truth. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Then, deciding to much honesty could hurt, she hastily added, “but don’t ever tell him that I said so.
“You really expect me to keep quiet, with the way you treat us?”
“I would say we are even, considering that snake.”
This time, there was a real smile, and Gwen decided to take a chance. “I know you do not trust me, and I realize I’m partly to blame, but truly, Jude, it’s in your best interests that we work together.”
“Yeah? What do I get out of it?” Jude faced her with a cool glare that gave nothing away it was hard to recall that she was just a child. The way Jude played her hand, she could well be a riverboat gambler.
“Think of it this way,” Gwen explained, fighting exasperation. “Your uncle brought me here to teach you and your brothers. The sooner you learn, the sooner I go home.”
“You will really go away?”
She could hardly be flattered by the girls eagerness. “Yes, but not until you have mastered your lessons. Work with me, and I will go home. I will leave you and your uncle alone. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I got a think on it more.” The words were grudging, almost defiant. She was such a tiger, this little girl, and Gwen suddenly hated the thought that she must one day be tamed. How much of her spirit will be lost in forcing her to become a lady? “Michael is not angry at you, you know,” she found herself adding, hating to see the girls suffer the same doubts and worries she had at that age. “If I were you, I would be more open with him.”
“He needs to know you love him and trust him?”
“What do you know of Michael?”
What, indeed?
“Just let him know how you feel, Jude.” Gwen knew she was being a hypocrite, yet, she hated to see this child make her mistakes. “Anything should happen to him before you do, trust me, you will never forgive yourself.”
“Trust you?”
Gwen’s patients slipped, and the words came tumbling out before she could stop them. “Go on, keep riding me, but I lost my mother, too, you know. Worse, I said some horrible things and she died before I could take them back. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could do it over, that I could just once tell her I love her, but she’s gone, and it’s too damn late.”
Horrified, she felt the sting of tears. What was wrong with her, saying such things to this impressionable child?
But the tears kept spilling down her cheeks, and the memories ruled across from mine. Too vividly, she could see her mother, her face ashen with shock as Gwen heartlessly accused her of envy. Isn’t that why you oppose my marriage to lance, she’d lashed out. You don’t want me to be happy when you’re not, but it’s not my fault you and father rarely speak anymore. Maybe it was your precious ladylike ways, your program and proper behavior that drove him away.
She could still hear her mother’s grasp, could see her mother’s knuckles gleam white where she clenched her hands. Even then, Gwen had known she should apologize for her rash words, but she was angry and hurt, and far too young to foresee the consequences. Hurling out the all too final father hates you and so do I, she’d gone it charging into the night.
“I loved her,” she sniffed aloud, surprised to find the tears had a cleansing effect. She’d done wrong, and she’d always have to live with it, but it felt good to face up to her sins, to stop running away. “And I miss her so much.”
Sniffing again, she groped in her pocket for her handkerchief. She glanced up to find Jude beside her, offering a napkin. As Gwen took it and dabbed at her eyes, she noticed the girl also held a slice of ham.
“Here, eat this,” Jude offered quickly. “It will help you feel better.”
***
Michael stood outside offices of Schiller and Blooms, cursing lady luck for abandoning him yet again. He’d been a mere hour late for his appointment, but the hour had cost him dearly. There would be no loan, the banker had proclaimed. Though they hadn’t actually said it, they nonetheless made it clear that he failed to impress them.
Michael did not care for their opinion, but without their money, his dream was doomed to fail.
Schiller and Blooms were not the only bank in town, he thought angrily. He still had a month to raise the money, and if you must knock on every door in the city, he would find someone else to grant him a loan. Hell, if he had to, he would could always resort to gambling. Itching him, earning his money in such a fashion. Too easily, he could picture Gwen looking down her large nose and calling his winnings “ill-gotten goods.” How like her to think of the worst of him, how like him to be hurt by the fact.
Wasn’t she a good part of why he struggled so stubbornly? Wasn’t at least part of his dream a long-lasting need to show Gwen that he was more than some common dirt farmer? To just once make her see him as a king?
Damn. Maybe it was time to start visiting every last female acquaintance in New Orleans, before the ache in his groin destroyed him. One way or another, he had to get that golden haired she which out of his blood.
***
“The children are gone again.” Gwen sat at the kitchen table, watching Jeffrey brew coffee. “Jude got mad at me because I ate the ham she’d been saving for Michael’s birthday. I thought we had everything settled between us, but just like that, she stomped off with her brothers to the swamp.”
“Hmm.”
Hard to tell if the old man was listening, or if he grunted at the beverage he had poured into two cups. Remembering Michael’s coffee, Gwen wished good manners didn’t require her participation in this drinking ritual, but Jeffrey made it hard to refuse.
“I suppose I can see why Jude’s upset,” she went on, as much for her own benefit as Jeffery’s. “She wanted to make the occasion special, and since ham is one of Michael’s favorites, she thought it would be a great treat.”
“Mikey likes other things, yes? The gator me, there is lots of it. I cured some this morning.
Alligator meat, she thought with a shudder. “I, think Michael want to save that for the winter.” At least she hoped, for she should be gone by then
Jeffrey chuckled, as if he’d anticipated her reaction and just meant to tease. “Not gator meat then, but the children, they do love their cake, no? You just gather up some eggs and flour, butter and sugar.” He must have seen her blank expression, for he lapped again as he set the cup in front of her. “I tell you what after we drink, I will tell you and you can write it down.”
“Jeffrey, I have never baked in my life. Or done dishes, or laundry, or much of anything else.”
He shook his head dismissively. “These things, they are easy to learn. I will show you today, before I leave. And ask that Jude, she will help you.”
“I doubt it,” Gwen sighed. “She is so unpredictable. One minute I think we can become friends, but then she turns and shrieks at me. Sometimes I despair of ever getting through to the girl.”
“Patients, Gwen. You got to forge bonds before you gain trust from one that age. You can make a good start with that cake.”
“Clearly, you have never seen me in the kitchen.”
“Can’t lose with that recipe. A mother got it from her mother, who got it from her mother. They who eat it, they all say it’s magical.”
Taking the required sip of coffee
, Gwen was pleasantly surprised. It was a good deal smoother and less bitter than the one Michael served. Either she was getting used to the stuff, or as he predicted, or Jeffrey had inherited the ability to cook from his mother. “I don’t suppose you have any more secret family recipes?” Gwen asked. “I could use some of that magic to deal with their uncle.”
“What has that Michael done now?”
Not wanting to mention the top, she brought up the next thing on her mind. “I can’t help but wonder about all of his absences. Where does he go, that he can’t be with the children at night?”
“Good friends don’t talk about other friends and their business.”
Code of honor, she thought with frustration. “But, Jeffrey, how can I ever understand Michael, if a good part of his life is a mystery?”
With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “Michael and I, together we been halfway across America and back. I stand at his side when we thought in Santa Anna, I play hired gun in the old gold mines. We share a slew of hard times between us, Gwen. There is no way to go against a bond like that.”
It was hard not to respect such loyalty. Or the man who inspired it.
“You want to know Michael,” Jeffrey said, “you watch and with the children, yes? Not every man sacrifices freedom for another man’s family.”
“I wondered about that. What happened to their father that he can’t take care of them?”
“Morteau.” Jeffrey snorted the word, his anger visible in plain view.
Gwen recognized the name. It was the name of the man Michael was blamed for killing in a fight. “Is that why Michael has the children, because he killed their father?”
“Who told you he was dead?”
“He is not?” Come to think of it, Michael never mentioned his death; it was Lance tossed out the accusation of murder.
“He should be.” Jeffrey spat in the dirt. “But justice, she looked the other way. The law, it lets a man beat his wife, and if he kills her, well, he can always pay a doctor to swear the fever took her.”
Horrified, Gwen gripped her cup. “He’d beat Jeanette to death? Did the children know this?”
Jeffrey grimaced. “Michael and I, we found out because of things they tell us. They are living on the streets, hiding from their father when we came here. So we find it easy to believe them.”
“No wonder Michael challenged him to a duel.”
His hands stiffed; all of Jeffrey seemed to pause. “I’d tell you this once, and only so you can understand. Michael didn’t fight him. He wanted to, but that Jude, she didn’t give him a chance.”
“Jude?”
Michael took them in, but their drunken father found them once in the park. Jude, she won’t talk about it, so he don’t know exactly what happened, only that she came home with his shot gun, and he was sent to the doctors with a hole in his knee.”
“She is a pretty good shot,” Gwen agreed. Horrified inside, her heart went out to the poor girl, to all the children. She might not know them well, but she did know Jude wouldn’t shoot anyone unless she was sorely provoked.”
“Till last night, she never went near that shotgun. Michael kept in lock in his broom closet for nearly a year.”
“But if Jude shot him, why does everyone blame Michael?”
Jeffrey did not say anything, Gwen needed no explanation. Michael had claimed credit to protect the girl, to shield her from the public scandal–just as he brought the children here to the swap to hide them from their fathers’ cruelty.
Gwen cringed as she remembered accusing Michael of neglect. He’d given the poor, scared children a home, a chance to grow and learn, so who was she to question where he went at night, or how he earned a living? And she ever done anything to make someone else happy and safe?
Suddenly restless, she rose to her feet. “If you don’t mind, I would really like your help in figuring out how to do things around here. Before you go, I would like your recipe.”
“For the cake? Or dealing with Michael?”
Dammit, is very name could start her blushing. “For the cake, Jeffrey. I think it’s wiser to tackle one of battlefield at a time.”
He chuckled. “No special formula, getting on with him. He’s had a hard life, that boy, and a lonely one. All he needs is a family to call his own.”
At his words, Gwen felt a flood of longing. Deep down, didn’t she want the same?
“Be a wife to him, Gwen,” Jeffrey added. “Make them lots of babies.
Longing transformed into a hot, piercing jolt of desire. Too vividly, she can imagine the process of making those babies taking place in a tub. “No, Jeffrey,” she said, forcing her thoughts to a calmer channel. “For now, let’s just stick with the recipe for the cake.”
***
Jude walked into the cabin with a string of fish, wishing there was some way to avoid the next step. She could fish all day, but she sure hated cleaning them.
To her surprise, Gwen stood in the kitchen, frowning at the hearth. Flash a tentative smile when Jude entered. Tensing, Jude wondered if she’d made a mistake, thing nice to this woman. She sure didn’t want her to think they were now friends.
“Oh, Jude, I’m glad you’re here. Jeffrey tried to show me how to lay a fire, but I don’t think I’m doing it correctly. I can’t seem to get it to light.”
“Don’t expect me to help. I got fish to clean.” Judith turned for the door, acting as if gutting fish was the most upmost importance.
“Wait, please. I need to talk to you.” Hard not to respond to the panic in that boys, but still, she’d have been out the door had Gwen not added, “what do you think of moving your things into my room?”
Jude Spun, almost dropping the fish. “No” did the woman think she now owned the place? “We don’t take kindly to strangers coming in here and ordering things around, lady.”
“Lady. All evidence to the contrary, the name is lady. Trust me, its more than insulting enough.”
Jude wasn’t going to smile. This woman kept getting around her that way, and she wasn’t having any of it. Still, she couldn’t help but be curious about what Gwen would say next.
“I cannot blame you for being angry,” Gwen went on. “I’m not happy about giving you my privacy either, if you must know the truth, but you’re getting too old to be sharing a room with boys.”
“Who are you to say what I can and cannot do?”
“I didn’t decide. Nature did. Did your mother tell you anything about the difference between a male and a female?”
“Some.”
Gwen nodded. “Don’t you think it will be easier to be with another female, when your monthly courses start flowing?”
Jude flushed at such talk, then began to become angry. “That’s not why,” she stubbornly argued. “I bet you have another reason for doing this.”
“Really? Why would I want company? You probably snore.”
“I-“
With a laugh, Gwen held up a hand. “I am only teasing. You really should smile more, Jude. Your uncle’s party won’t be much fun, if you’re always frowning.”
“What party? Did you forget you wrecked our ham?”
She’d thrown that out to make Gwen felt bad, but again, the woman surprised her. “We have enough left to make sandwitches. Besides, wouldn’t it be more festive if we made a cake?” Again preventing any negative comments, Gwen held up a piece of paper, smiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. “I happen to have a recipe from Jeffrey. He says that if you were to help me, we could create magic.”
Jude snorted. “Michael likes chocolate cake, and we don’t have no cocoa.”
“Any.” Biting her lip, Gwen smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s a force of habit, correcting your grammar. My mother used to do it to me all the time.”
Jude thought back to when Gwen had said and talked about her mother, how she missed her so much. It may Jude want to cry, too, for she still felt an aching pain, and an incredible anger. Poor mother, if only she’d known how to f
ight back. If only Jude and her brothers could have helped save her.
“Don’t worry,” Gwen said, interrupting her thoughts. “I know how to get cocoa. I would just bat my eyelashes and talk really pretty, and Michael will bring it next time he visits.”
Jude shook her head in disappointment. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You don’t need to use your looks to get something. Where simple folks, who like plain speaking. We don’t have much use for fancy ways, all those pretty smiles and flirting lashes that don’t mean a thing.”
“I don’t-“
“Yes, you do. I’ve watched you with Michael. He hates it when you try charming him into something. He likes it better, heck, we all do–when you stick to the truth. If you want something, just come right out and ask for it.”
Gwen flinched, then sucked in a breath. “All right, here is plain speaking then. I’m tired of being useless. I need to succeed here. And to do it, I need your help.”
Jude fought against the warm, nice feeling spreading inside her. “What you need me for.”
“For one thing, I can’t bake a cake on my own. I am a disaster in the kitchen, and I’m even worse outdoors. If I hope to survive in the bayou, I will need to know what creatures to steer clear of, where I can go, and what to avoid. It will be easier to teach me these things if we are sharing a room.”
Jude looked at her, torrent. It could be a trick, but truth to be told she had lots of questions herself, questions only another female could answer.
“Can’t we at least give it a try?” Gwen pressed gently. “After a week, if you still find the situation intolerable, we can talk to your uncle about making other sleeping arrangements.”
A week did not seem that bad, Jude decided. Suppose she could survive that.
She wasn’t sure if she nodded or not, but as if finding agreement in her stance, Gwen said, “good. In the meantime, wouldn’t Michael be surprised to find that whole in the roof finally mended? Here it is September. If we have a hurricane, it will be nothing left in that pantry.”
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