Heart of Glass

by Jill Marie Landis

  Though it caused him much anguish to face the truth, he held no hope for his sister. When she was gone, he would need insurmountable courage to raise two children. Could he do it?

  He gazed beyond his mother’s garden, past the barn, the smokehouse, and other outbuildings, and past the row of cabins that once housed slaves and now stood empty, except the one Eugenie and Simon occupied. He looked over the old cane fields — the former lifeblood of the South and Belle Fleuve — but where there used to be acres and acres of sugarcane, there were but a few straggling islands of ratoon cane.

  Yesterday Colin couldn’t imagine he would be able to walk from the garçonnière to the house, let alone drag himself upstairs — yet he’d done it for his sister. One step at a time, he’d done it for Amelie.

  Could he possibly resurrect Belle Fleuve?

  He had no idea where to start, but nothing could be accomplished without money. His only bankable asset was the Delany name. It was a name that meant something in a city where pedigree counted — especially if a man could claim Creole or Irish roots. Fortunately, he possessed both.

  EIGHT

  Most New Orleanians’ favorite pastimes were dining and shopping, and Kate was no exception. In town she feasted on all the rich foods she loved, thankful that the city was coming back from the long, dark years of the war and its aftermath.

  She hurried up and down familiar streets, stopping now and then to purchase clothes and shoes for the children, a McGuffey’s First Reader for Damian, and some ribbons for Marie’s hair. They also needed stockings and undergarments and hairbrushes. And she found a gold locket for Marie.

  Calling on a few of her mother’s closest friends, Kate asked for physician recommendations. She set up interviews with the top three recommended doctors. After she described Amelie’s symptoms to the first doctor, he told her the best thing she could do was return to Belle Fleuve and tell her friend good-bye. Kate walked out and slammed the door behind her.

  She left the second visit in a pique when the well-known physician with a spotless reputation told her that Amelie was receiving the same care at Belle Fleuve that she’d get at a sanatorium — good meals, fresh air, and rest. Nothing was to be done but make her comfortable until the end.

  Kate sat in the third doctor’s empty office waiting area, afraid she’d be returning to the plantation alone. A portly middle-aged gentleman wearing a finely cut suit and a wide smile walked in. He was only a few inches taller than she.

  “Miss Keene? I’m Doctor Jonathon Ward. How can I help you?”

  He had a Yankee accent, which explained the lack of patients in his office.

  “I’m seeking help for a friend,” she began. “She has consumption.” Kate described Amelie’s symptoms.

  The man actually smiled when she finished.

  “Why, Miss Keene, no case is ever hopeless. I’d be most happy to help.”

  Kate burst into tears. Once she’d collected herself and was seated in a comfortable wing chair near a window overlooking Jackson Square, she listened to the doctor as he explained his plan of attack.

  “There are many things to do before we give up, my dear. Many things. Phosphorous is one treatment—”

  “I spoke to someone earlier who told me that it’s dangerous to use phosphorous when the disease is advanced.”

  Dr. Ward waved his hand as if batting away a pesky fly. “Pooh. I’ve used it with much success.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His stare was intent. “I have a very powerful curative made of snail syrup.”

  “Snails?” Kate loved escargot, but the idea of a syrup made from snails made her wince.

  “Snails gathered from the garden in the early morning when the dew is still on the leaves. Bagged and doused with honey, they drip a very powerful restorative.”

  Kate swallowed. “It works?”

  He nodded. “Ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  The man was overconfident, perhaps even a charlatan. She sat back and stared out at the park in the open square.

  “What have you got to lose, Miss Keene?”

  “My friend.” Her voice wavered. “My dearest friend.”

  The doctor stood up and walked into the adjoining room. She heard him moving around, and then he came back to the reception room carrying a square box. He sat and set the box on his knees. Taking great care, he lifted a crystal sphere out of a nest of excelsior and held it in both hands.

  “If all else fails, this should do it.”

  She leaned closer to the sphere. “What is it?”

  “A very powerful healing stone discovered in the ruins of the ancient city of Rome. It holds the secrets of the ages.”

  Any other time, Kate would have laughed and thought him crazy. But picturing Amelie’s shadowed eyes, her pitifully thin, bent frame, her lungs so infected that every cough was excruciating, Kate was ready to gamble on anything that might work.

  “I suppose it’s worth a try. As crazy as it sounds, I have no other options,” she said.

  “I should warn you that my services don’t come cheap, Miss Keene.”

  That much was evident from the cut of his clothes and fine leather boots.

  “You are not a charlatan, are you, Doctor?”

  “It pains me to hear you ask, my dear. Pains me to the quick.”

  “Believe me, Doctor, you don’t know the kind of pain I can inflict if you are lying. I can have you run out of New Orleans in the blink of an eye.”

  It wasn’t an empty threat. One word to some of her father’s former business associates and Dr. Jonathon Ward would be on his way back north.

  “Miss Keene, nothing is certain when it comes to cures. Don’t you know that all medicine is based on faith? Faith in the doctor, faith in the remedy, and faith in God. I am merely a conduit. All we can do is hope that your friend has the courage to believe.”

  Kate was reminded of her visit to Cezelia and hoped God was listening.

  Kate’s accountant, Dan Rosen, ushered her into his office with all the fanfare wealthy clients expected, but the elegance of his carpeted offices full of glossy cherry wood furniture was lost on Kate. She’d been poor, and she’d been rich, but she was impressed only by a person’s honesty and generosity, not by a show of wealth.

  Dan had proven his loyalty and business acumen time and again. Her father had considered him one of the most honest and qualified accountants in New Orleans. Once Kate convinced Rosen she didn’t need to be fawned over, she dealt comfortably with the well-known family man.

  “I’m glad you finally returned to town, Kate.” Dan took a seat beside her rather than behind his expansive desk. “I was afraid I was going to have to go out to Belle Fleuve to see you.”

  “You look worried, Dan. Should I be worried?”

  She had asked Dan to oversee ordering the building materials and having them delivered to the plantation. He knew exactly what she’d been up to.

  “You have to stop spending, Kate. You’ve next to nothing left.”

  “Next to nothing?” Her thoughts ricocheted back to Dr. Ward’s warning that his services didn’t come cheap.

  “I warned you back when you paid off the Delanys’ taxes that you should take care. When Nola sold the townhouse I advised you against moving into that expensive suite at the St. Charles.”

  “But I never thought things would get this dire,” she said.

  “Hopefully you are through with your pet project.”

  “I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped. I must admit I was very naive about making plans without consulting Colin first. He’s tried to run me off. He’s a very stubborn man.”

  “But not crazy, as rumor would have it?”

  “Definitely not crazy.”

  “Does he know how invested you are in that place?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to tell him until he’s on his feet and can make some arrangements to repay me.”

  “I warned your father not to give you carte blanche.”

  “Because
I’m a woman?”

  “Because you think with your heart and not your head. It’s admirable that you want to help out old friends, but I’m worried about your future.”

  “This morning I heard from one of mother’s friends that Roger Jamison is looking for an architect to act as his assistant. He was a friend of Father’s. Perhaps he’ll hire me.”

  Dan looked skeptical. “If you can make enough to cover your living expenses I’ll invest some of your remaining funds and try to rebuild your account.”

  “I’ll find more affordable lodging for Myra and myself when we leave Belle Fleuve. I certainly hope to make enough to pay our expenses.” She spoke with all the confidence she could muster. “Are you really quite certain the situation is that dire?”

  “Let’s just say you are poised on the brink of disaster. There is certainly no more money to spend on Belle Fleuve. What would Delany say if he knew you’d spent your inheritance on the place?”

  “He would be livid.” Livid was putting it mildly. He was a proud man who loathed indebtedness — especially to her, if Kate were to hazard a guess.

  “Hasn’t he wondered why the taxes haven’t come due?”

  “He thinks he was given leeway because he enlisted in the army and took an oath of loyalty to the Union.”

  “And how did he come by that misinformation?” Dan didn’t look pleased.

  She shrugged. “Four years ago I asked the clerk at the tax assessor’s office to tell him as much.”

  “Oh, Kate.”

  “The clerk once worked for my father and recognized my name. When I told him I wished to pay the taxes anonymously, we penned a letter for Colin and put it in his file. I know it’s bad, but at the time it seemed like a good idea.”

  “Tell him the truth now, Kate. Find out what kind of man Colin really is.”

  “He’s a broken man. I hate to tell him now when there’s finally a glimmer of hope that he’s recovering.” She pictured Colin painfully making his way upstairs to visit Amelie. “Don’t worry, Dan. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

  “For your sake, I hope so. Take my advice, Kate. Stop spending. I can grow the small amount of principal you have left, if you’re careful.”

  “I’m sure my father would have tripled what he left me by now,” she shrugged. “Business was his gift. Unfortunately, I must have taken after my birth parents. They fled the Irish famine and immigrated to New Orleans.”

  Like so many others, her parents had died of yellow fever, which her father caught while digging the canals of the city.

  “Amelie has come home, and now that she’s back, Colin will realize he simply has to save Belle Fleuve for her and her children,” she added.

  “If Patrick Delany had lived he would have invested in the Hibernia Bank. Most of his friends were founders. A Hibernia loan isn’t out of the question for Colin.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “It would be a long shot,” Dan Rosen admitted. “With declining land values, the plantation is almost worthless. Colin could break the land into smaller holdings, sell them, or rent out parcels to tenant farmers. Surely there’s still some sugar-refining equipment around the property.”

  Kate’s thoughts were miles away at Belle Fleuve with Amelie, Colin, and the children until she realized what he’d just said.

  “Did you say something about refining sugar?”

  Dan nodded. “Farmers have been forming co-operatives, pooling their crops. If there’s an old sugarhouse on the land, Colin could get it running again. Does he have any resources at all?”

  “Apparently not.”

  She pictured the seemingly endless fields stretched out around Belle Fleuve. Was there an old sugarhouse somewhere?

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Kate got to her feet. “I have to get ready to go back tomorrow morning.”

  Dan rose as well. “I hope you make it. There’s quite a storm brewing.” He walked her to the door. “Remember what I said, Kate. No more spending.”

  “Don’t look so worried. I promise to tighten my purse strings.” After I pay Dr. Ward, she thought. “Everything will be fine. Please give Susan and the boys my best.”

  “I will. You have a safe journey back to the country.”

  Kate’s last stop was the home of Roger Jamison, an architect who lived in the Garden District. Jamison’s work was as well-known as Patrick Delany’s, and Kate considered herself lucky that he’d even agreed to see her on such short notice. Of course, having been Gilbert Keene’s daughter helped.

  The architect was in his late fifties, whipcord lean, and like her, wore spectacles, but his were the thickest lenses she’d ever seen. His jacket was patched at the elbows, but his shoes were new. He ushered her in and asked if she’d like some tea. She accepted and followed him into the kitchen where he brewed it himself.

  “I’ll admit I agreed to see you out of curiosity. I met your father on a few occasions. Brilliant mind. What brings you here, Miss Keene?”

  Kate stood a bit taller. “I’m an architect, Mr. Jamison, and an admirer of your work.”

  His brow arched. His expression revealed disbelief.

  Kate hurried to add, “I’ve recently been overseeing repairs to Belle Fleuve, the Delany plantation on River Road.”

  She told him of her accomplishments at Belle Fleuve. Once the tea was brewed, Jamison served it in his office.

  “I’ll admit that there is no shortage of work rebuilding the South, Miss Keene. I’m not getting any younger, and I find it harder to keep up with demands. You’ve come at an opportune time, my dear. I’ve been looking for someone who can help, someone with a fresh eye and new ideas.”

  “That’s certainly me, Mr. Jamison.” Before her visit to Rosen’s office, Kate would have seen this interview as an exciting challenge. Now she struggled not to appear desperate.

  “What actual experience have you had other than overseeing repairs?”

  “I studied with Patrick Delany.” Jamison’s gaze was calculating.

  “You must have been a child.”

  She shrugged, tried not to blush but failed. “Well, yes.”

  “What else, Miss Keene?”

  “I was apprenticed by an architect in Ireland. He’s written a letter of reference. Since then I’ve worked on reconstruction plans for Belle Fleuve. I’ve entered a few periodical contests as well.”

  “Have you completed the reconstruction of Belle Fleuve?”

  “No. Colin Delany has no funds available at this point.”

  “It’s a shame you didn’t bring your plans along with you. I’d be interested in taking a look at them.”

  “It would be an honor to show you what I’ve done.”

  He sat in silence for so long she feared he was going to dismiss her.

  “Miss Keene,” he said as he leaned forward in his chair, “I’m not as young as I used to be. Nor am I as patient. The idea of taking on any apprentice at this stage is not to my liking, but it appears that it’s a necessity. I never thought to take on a woman, certainly not someone as untried as you. But once, long ago, your father found work for me when I was an impoverished architect down on his luck, and I’ll always be grateful. It would be an honor to repay him by hiring you, on a trial basis, of course. Hopefully you can help relieve some of my burdens.”

  Kate’s relief and excitement was only tempered by the thought of Amelie’s lying ill at Belle Fleuve.

  “You won’t regret it, Mr. Jamison.”

  “Please, my dear, call me Roger.” He pushed himself up out of the chair, crossed the room, and motioned for her to follow him to a wide table covered with plans. “Now, let me show you what I have in mind for your first assignment. I’d like to hear your ideas.”

  NINE

  Colin stepped onto the gallery, leaned heavily on his cane, and paused to rest his ankle before he moved into the main house. He’d made three trips upstairs in three days, each trip a miracle in and of itself. He brushed the rain off his shoulders
and ran his hand through his damp hair. Unable to manage both an umbrella and his cane, each day he’d walked through a steady rain that hadn’t been letting up.

  He opened the closest door, stepped into the dining room, and heard the sound of the children in the sitting room just beyond. The pocket doors were open a few inches and he could clearly hear their young voices. Colin wiped his face with his sleeve as he listened.

  “Have you seen the pirate captain? Have you seen the scurvy cabin boy?” Marie’s voice was stronger and more forceful than he’d ever heard it. Whenever he was around the girl, she barely spoke, and when she did, she whispered.

  Damian shouted back, “Nay! I haven’t seen the blackguards, but when I do I’ll have them clamped in irons and make them walk the plank. Or maybe I’ll keelhaul them for drinking my rum! Yo, ho, ho!”

  Colin began doubting the wisdom of gifting them with A Pirate’s Tale.

  “I’m going to be the captain now,” Marie said. “I’m tired of being the wench.”

  “You’re a girl. You can’t be a pirate captain. Girls can’t be pirates or sailors.”

  “Then I won’t play anymore.”

  “Hey, you come back here,” Damian ordered.

  The sound of running feet preceded a loud scuffle. Colin had his hand on the sliding doors, ready to walk in, when something crashed to the floor. He opened the doors just as Damian came barreling out of the room, plowing straight into him.

  Forced to put his weight on his injured ankle to keep his balance, pain shot up Colin’s leg with the white heat of lightning. Reeling, he raised his arm to brace himself against the door frame. Damian let out a yelp and cowered.

  “I’m sorry,” the boy started blubbering. “I’m sorry, Uncle Colin. I didn’t mean to break it.”

  Colin glanced across the room. Marie stood frozen beside a round side table tipped over on its side. The shards of a ceramic figurine lay scattered beside it.

  “We’re sorry,” she whispered. “It was an accident.”

  Colin couldn’t speak until he managed his pain. He took a deep breath. “I know that.”