by Renee' Irvin
Jules turned up his whiskey and continued to stand. His eyes followed Jacqueline as she seated herself on a throne of embossed aqua silk, protected by princely arms. Jules smiled out of the corner of his mouth as he did so often before announcing his thoughts. He removed a cigar from his breast pocket and noticed Jacqueline’s black cat jump into her lap. He could hear the cat purr from across the room.
Jacqueline stroked the cat’s head and crossed one lithe leg over the other. She adjusted her pale silk gown and pulled the straps down over her shoulders. She smiled a seductive smile, looking much like her cat.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
Jules removed his hat, put down his cigar, shook his head from side to side, walked over and closed the door. He leaned against the doorjamb. His eyes focused on hers and stripped away all pretenses. He made an impatient gesture and said with a raised tone, “Woman, you beat all I have ever seen. You want to go and get yourself killed?”
“I don't know what you're talking about. How much of that whiskey have you had to drink?” She glanced at herself in a gilt mirror. Then, with a coy smile she said, “You are a crazy man.”
The muscles in Jules face tightened, his eyes moved down her body. He hated himself; he always had control of his feelings, but this woman would not let him forget her. She was all he thought about.
“You may play those games where you come from, but don’t come around here with your bag o’ tricks, ‘cause sooner or later you’re gonna get found out. And when you do, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
Jacqueline cocked her head and her eyes flickered. She released the cat from her lap.
Jules noticed that she was indifferent to his words. The cat jumped over and bit him. Jules knocked the cat off and watched it run and rub himself against the door.
“Goddamn cat!”
The smile disappeared from Jacqueline’s face and the flicker left her eyes. She watched the cat until it jumped back into her lap.
“Well, Jules McGinnis, what can you do about it?” Jacqueline stroked the cat. “There is not a thing that you can prove.”
“You don't know what in the hell I can prove,” Jules shot back. “What you been toting around in that satchel?”
Jacqueline leaned forward and stared at him with angry eyes. “You stay out of my things, you bastard! And quit spying on me!”
“Spying on you! Hell, you ain’t worth spying on. There ain't nobody bothered a thing you got. At least nothing that you value…” he said with a smirk.
Jacqueline shifted nervously; she twisted a diamond pendant around her little finger. She looked up at Jules from downcast eyes.
“And how would you know what I value?”
Jules glanced down at the sparkle of the necklace that lay between her full breasts.
“What poor bastard did you steal that from?”
Jacqueline turned her head away from him. He walked over, pulled her from the chair and kissed her hard on the lips.
“Get the hell away from me!” She pushed him off her and sat back down.
Jules leaned over, put his hand on her chin and raised her head. He looked deep into her emerald eyes. “Awful cold, aren’t we, my dear, for a woman I paid to have sex with. But you know what? I have no complaints; there’s not a thing that I can compare it to.” His look softened, along with his voice.
Jacqueline gave him a cold hard glance.
“Listen to me, there’s something I want to tell you,” Jules said, almost pleading. “You cannot stand me now, but things will change. I want to take you out of here. I do not know where you came from or what your story is, but I know that you do not want to be here, you don’t belong here, and I don’t want you here.”
“Jacqueline, I want to help you. Why I want to help you I don’t know. I'm not the kind of man who wants to help anyone for nothing, especially a woman, and a lying thieving woman at that.” He gave her a long lazy smile. “But there is something about you; something not even a man like me understands. As crazy as it sounds, I care for you.”
For once, Jacqueline had nothing to say.
From the flicker of a candelabrum, Jules could see the tears form in her eyes. He removed a monogrammed handkerchief from his trouser pocket, gently kneeled down, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
He pulled the straps of her dress up on her shoulders and took her face in his hands.
“I want you to go to Savannah with me.”
“You are crazy,” whispered Jacqueline.
“Woman, I know your game, I’m on to you, but I don’t care. In some ways, you and I are just alike; we understand each other. I want to take you away from this place. I’ll even buy you a house, a big one.” Jacqueline pulled back and looked at him with sparkling eyes.
“A big one? Where are you going to buy me this house? How do I know I can trust you?” She twirled long dark tresses around her finger and stared straight ahead.
Jules got up, removed a cigar from the pocket of his vest, turned his back, lit the cigar, and then turned back to Jacqueline.
“I will buy you a house in Savannah. I cannot bear the thought of you continuing to play these dangerous games and pulling your cons. Even though I have to admit, you would make a hell of a poker player.”
She turned her face to his.
“Ever since the night that I walked through those doors, I turned around and there you stood, the most beautiful woman that I had ever laid eyes on.”
Jacqueline tossed her head back and with wide-eyed innocence said, “You are not lying to me; you are really going to buy me a house?”
“I will buy you the most expensive house in Savannah.” He looked at her and smiled. “I want you to be happy, I want to take care of you, give this life up and never think about it again. I am going to make a lady out of you.”
These were the kind of promises Jacqueline had heard before, many times, but never had a man that seemed so serious, never had one appealed to her like this man did. He was the kind of man who could tempt any woman, even a whore.
Jacqueline was certain that he set out to take what he wanted, but she was just as certain that most women were dying to give it to him. He excited her.
Jules laid a hand on her arm and kissed her on the cheek. It had been a long time since Jacqueline had yearned for the touch of a man, one who cared for her, who was not there just to use her.
A man who loved her; something that she had never had. A man who would never leave her.
She thought to herself, I have total control over this man. Control, to Jacqueline, was worth far more than money. However, she knew there was a dark side to Jules that made him more of a rogue, than a gentleman, and it was this side of him that instilled a fear in her that she did not understand, but it was that side of him that seduced her.
Mae entered the room and cleared her throat. Neither Jules nor Jacqueline had looked over when she entered. She glared angrily at Jacqueline. “Get your stuff and get the hell out! The sheriff sent one of his boys over to warn us that they are about to raid this place. Seems as though somebody told Colonel Abbott's wife that he spent too much time here and she went to the Baptist. There ain't no time—get on out!” Screamed Mae.
Jacqueline glanced from Mae to Jules. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to do like she said, we’re going to get the hell out of here,” said a casual Jules as he put on his hat and took a puff of his cigar. Jules glanced out the window and saw lanterns moving in the dark. He looked at Jacqueline. “Pack your bags, we’re leaving now.”
Jacqueline ran from the room.
Mae moved in front of the mahogany empire sideboard and turned around. She looked at Jules in disbelief.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk to me when, now? Hell, Mae, you never were a logical woman, but now ain’t the time to talk.”
“Please tell me that you are not about to take her with you.”
“That’s right Mae, I am.”
; “You are a crazy damn fool!”
“So I’ve been told.”
Mae’s eyes drilled through Jules. “There are things about that woman that I think you should know.”
Jules straightened the hat on his head and smiled.
“Mae, as much as I enjoy your company, I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave. If you’ll excuse me, I have two ladies to escort out of here.” He removed his gold pocket watch from his trouser pocket and checked the time. “And a train to catch.”
Mae’s lips moved, but not a sound came out.
Jules stopped before going out the door.
“Mae, give Colonel Abbot’s wife my regards. It’s a fine thing that she has done. The Baptist should be awful proud.”
“You, you sonofabitch! You did not do what I think you did. I swear on my life you will pay for this!”
Jules gave Mae a cold hard stare and then left the room.
Mae walked over and cut the gaslights off in the parlor. Against the flicker of the candelabra, she moved back to the sideboard and poured herself a shot of whiskey. She gulped it in one swallow and poured another.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. She wiped the tears off her rouged and powdered face. “Damn Jules, damn that bitch!”
Jules bass voice shouted throughout the house, “Jacqueline! Priscilla! Get the hell down here!”
Priscilla screamed as she ran up and down the stairs with overstuffed suitcases and bags that belonged to the girls. Clothes were flying, money was being counted, and the house was in chaos. There were girls running around barefoot in nothing but lace camisoles and pantaloons. Jacqueline turned and looked at Jules with a panicked face.
“What am I going to do?”
Jules cackled at the look on her face. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’m going to take care of you.” He looked around at the scurrying girls and their customers.
“Hell, I ain't seen some of these men move this fast since the war.” Before Jules could stop her, Jacqueline ran up the stairs and she was throwing her clothes over the rail. Jules looked up at her. “What in the hell are you doing?”
Jacqueline leaned over the rail; her hair fell loose and cascaded down her shoulder. “I’m getting my dresses Mae gave me; they’re from Paris! You don't think I’m about to leave those, do you? I paid for them.”
Jules grinned at her. “Leave those damn dresses here.”
“But they’re from Paris!”
“Paris, my ass, let's get the hell out of here before your pretty little self is modeling them Paris dresses in the slammer!”
Priscilla was running impatiently back and forth. Jules grabbed her arm. “Help pack Jacqueline’s things. The three of us are going to Savannah tonight!”
Nothing seemed normal anymore. Isabella’s mama and granny spent their mornings rummaging through the shed next to the barn. She reckoned they were going through her daddy’s things. Isabella wished that they wouldn’t do that.
Granny insisted on Jesse trying on Miles’s clothes. Isabella watched as Jesse removed his shoes and socks. She looked down at his blistered heels, the skin was a raw pink that oozed yellow pus. The three women glanced at each other and then Isabella ran in the house and came out with a bottle of alcohol.
Isabella’s eyes rested on Jesse’s face as Jesse turned his head and said, “Jesus! Jesus! Sweet Jesus!” Jesse hopped around the shed with a distorted face whooping and hollering.
“Don’t think about it, think about something else, think about catching a big trout and me and Granny will fry it up for supper.”
Jesse licked his lips and his eyes wandered. “You got the fish?”
“No, but I can tell you where they are.”
“Where?”
“In the river,” Isabella said and bent over laughing.
Granny gave Isabella a stern look, then turned her head and smiled.
Jesse pulled at his pants as he walked around in circles trying to cool off his heels, then whirled around as Tom entered the shed.
Tom stopped and stared at Isabella. “Did I hear you mention fishing?”
“I would love to go fishing!” Isabella said with delight. “I’m sick of all the chores around here. We have canned and put up enough corn, squash, okra and tomatoes to feed all of Sherman’s ghosts!”
Tom glanced over at Jesse. Isabella’s face blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Tom, this is Jesse. He’s here to help us with the chores.”
Tom extended a long muscular arm as Jesse rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. He gave Tom a firm handshake.
Isabella glanced over at Granny who had a lap full of Miles’s things and she was methodically going through them. Isabella saw that her mama had stopped sorting and was lost in her thoughts as she held one of her husband’s shirts tight against her chest.
“You boys know each other?” Said Granny, looking up from her pile.
“Seems like I’ve seen Jesse somewhere before,” said Tom.
“Bagwell’s barn,” Jesse said with a nod.
“For Christ sake, it sure was. You would be there on Saturdays with your pa when I’d come in with my pa. Remember that time when we were about seven and our pas’ were discussing what they thought Mr. Riley’s mule was worth?”
“Sure do.”
“How’s your pa?” Tom asked.
“My pa’s dead.”
Tom looked down at the rotted planked floor, then back up at Jesse. “You staying out here?”
“Granny made me a bed up in the loft in the barn and as long as there are chores to be done, I guess I’ll be here. These ladies need some help and besides, we have planted us some cotton!”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard all about the cotton,” said Tom, glancing at Isabella, then back to Jesse. “So, how ’bout Saturday morning me and you ride into town and get these women their supplies. When we get back we’ll go fishing.”
Jesse nodded with a smile. He watched Isabella go out of the barn and come back carrying two big orange pumpkins.
Tom turned to Isabella. “For Christ sake, Bella, what are you going to do with those pumpkins?”
“I’m gonna make us a pumpkin pie.”
Jesse’s eyes grew big. You could see the waves of the river, the fish, and pumpkin pie in them.
A gentle breeze blew yellow leaves into the shed. The light of the afternoon sun shone through the holes in the tin roof.
“Tom, guess what?” Isabella said.
“What?”
“Livie and Henry had the baby.”
“Henry had a baby, too?”
“Tom Slaughter, you quit teasing me! He’s so little and precious and his name is James Henry Berkley. You’ve got to see him. Don’t he, mama?”
Lila never looked at Isabella.
“How’s she doing?” Tom whispered.
“Not too good. Some days she sleeps until noon. Granny’s taking it much better than Mama. Last Thursday, we couldn’t find her. Granny and I had been shelling butter beans and we realized there was no sign of Mama. We found her out in the barn. You’re not going to believe what she was doing.”
“What?”
“Talking to Sonny. She was crouched down in the stall, talking to Sonny.” Isabella exhaled and looked at Tom and Jesse. “You know her and Granny both are so worried about us losing this place. If Mr. Hartwell doesn’t get a payment real soon, it’s going into foreclosure. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“For Christ sake, Isabella, quit your worrying. I told your pa a long time ago that I would take care of you and I intend to keep that promise. A Slaughter don’t go back on a promise. You always remember that, okay?” He placed his hand on Isabella’s shoulder and looked into her watery blue eyes. “I think that you need to get out of here for a while. Let’s take a picnic basket and go down to the river. Go on; grab some of Granny’s cathead biscuits and some cured ham. If she’s got any of those fried apple pies, bring them too.” He turned and looked at Jesse. “You want to come, Jesse?”
Jesse gnas
hed his teeth as he tried to get Miles’s boot on over his heel. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “No, yawl go on ahead. I still have chores to do and Granny said she’s gonna fry me up some fish.”
“Does your ma and granny need any supplies from town?” Tom asked Isabella.
“Granny, Tom wants to know if we need anything from town?”
Granny stood up and made her way toward them. She was humming, Lord Lifted Me, then stopped and said, “No, I don’t reckon. Nothing we have to have right now.” Her voice turned to tenderness. “You two go on, spend the rest of the afternoon at the river. Tomorrow we’re going to have to plow the field; we’ve got more cotton to plant.”
Isabella leaned over and kissed Granny’s weathered cheek. She noticed how she was shaking as she left the shed. For the first time, she realized that Granny would not be with her forever.
That afternoon the Chattahoochee River was alive and gushing. Isabella looked around at the gray brown bark on the trunks of the trees. She spotted a little deer up in the woods. She glanced at its innocent face and huge brown eyes.
“Tom, why do men kill little deer?”
Tom exhaled and glanced up at the deer.
“That’s the way of our people. We kill ‘em to eat ‘em. For Christ sake, if you get hungry enough Isabella, you’d eat a deer, too. Some people get real hungry at times; especially in the winter. We’ve ate possum before.”
Isabella stopped and spread out a blanket on the damp ground. Leaves were falling all around them. Isabella lay down on the blanket and looked up into the crisp blue sky. Tom sat down and they clasped hands.
“Let me ask you this: does it bother you to kill a hog?” Tom asked.
“Well, it depends. If we have had that hog awhile, it does. I mean once I had this pet hog named Omie…”
Tom laughed. “Omie?”
Isabella said with annoyance, “It wasn’t the name. It was whether or not I had gotten to know them.” She noticed Tom got quiet and released her hand.
“What’s the matter?” Isabella asked.