“Like what?” She wiped the last of her tears away and AJ slid off her lap to return to his games.
For the next thirty minutes, I told her all about the latest round of supernatural activity. Especially the part about Philip Beaumont.
“I’m on it, Carrie Jo. I’ll go home and dig a little deeper into the Delarosas and the Beaumonts, but you have to promise me something too. Promise you’ll keep me in the loop. We’re a team; you said it yourself.”
“All right, I will.”
“Okay, I’d better get started.” She hugged my neck one more time and left, obviously happy to have a task to focus on. Maybe that was all she needed. The place felt strangely empty, and I imagined I heard the sighing again. I used to think it was Calpurnia’s sigh or maybe Isla’s, but I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t the house itself.
The Brotherhood thinks this place is a portal.
Rachel’s words came back to me. I shivered again. Thunder boomed overhead, and the air felt crackly. I turned off Baby Boy’s television, in case the lightning storm got bad. He didn’t like it, but once he saw that I was willing to play blocks with him, he was happy.
Live for the moment, Carrie Jo, I reminded myself. These are the happiest moments.
Chapter Twelve—Lafonda
Papa would not come downstairs to greet Philip, Mama informed us. I knew why. He was drunk, too drunk to make the trek down the stairs, but of course I would not speak of his secret openly. Mama wasted no time in trying to force Philip out the front door. If I had not interceded, I feel sure she would have done just that. “Mama, please. This is Philip Beaumont. He is the gentleman I told you about. He is a great admirer of our gardens, and he has done this for us.” I refused to meet his eyes. “Mr. Beaumont is responsible for Jonatan’s freedom. We should at least offer him our thanks with dinner.”
She waved her hands absently. “Yes, of course. I do thank you, Mr. Beaumont, but as you can see, my son is not well. Not well at all.” She wrung her hands now and called for her maid. “Lettie, please help me with Jonatan.” And then she was gone, her arm around Jonatan as he walked upstairs obediently. He refused to let Mama touch him and yelled as if she’d hurt him with just her touch. I had never seen him behave in such a way before.
“Please forgive Mama. She is not herself.”
“Of course, Miss Delarosa. I understand.”
I offered him my hand to shake and said, “I cannot thank you enough. Having my brother home means so much to us.”
There was no smile on Philip’s face. “Let there be no misunderstanding, Miss Delarosa. Your brother has not yet stood trial, and there is no doubt he will. Although he is home now, he is not yet a free man. I do hope your father has retained an attorney for him. Judge Harrison is a reasonable man and agreed with me that it would be better for your brother’s health if he were here with you at Seven Sisters, but it is only a temporary situation.”
“When must he go back, Mr. Beaumont? For trial, I mean.” Worry weighed me down now. Would Jonatan’s heartbreaking situation ever end?
“He has another week, and then he must appear before the judge. I have the paperwork. And please, call me Philip.”
I accepted the packet of papers but didn’t open them. “Very well, Philip. You may call me Lafonda.”
“I think I prefer Enchantress of the Garden.”
A smile crept across my face, but it didn’t last long. My brother began to yell, and it wasn’t a scream of pain but a long string of profanities. I paled at hearing him say such words. Jonatan never heard them from any of us.
“I think it might be best…”
“Yes, I understand. Good day, Lafonda. May I call on you tomorrow?”
“I look forward to it, Philip.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, I raced upstairs to my brother’s room. Mama was standing in the hallway; her face had a red welt on the side of it as if she had been struck with something. Surely not! Jonatan had never struck anyone, much less Mama, whom he loved beyond all reason.
“Mama?” I said as I sat beside her on the settee. “What happened? Are you bleeding?”
“This is not my son! This is not Jonatan! What have they done to him?” She clutched her cheek, and Lettie reappeared with a clean cloth. The cut was not deep, but it bled as if it were. Suddenly, I heard weeping from inside the room. Jonatan cried loudly, so loudly that Papa came staggering out of his own room.
“What is going on, Jacinta? Is that Jonatan making all that racket? Is it true? Is he home?”
“Yes, Papa, he is home. But he is not well. He has struck Mama, and I fear that his time at the jail has upset him beyond our knowing. It is not over, Papa. He must appear before the judge on Friday. My friend Philip Beaumont told me so. It is because of Philip that Jonatan has returned to us, for a little while,” I added, trying not to cry. Papa had bathed, and his dark hair was clean and slick. He wasn’t completely dressed, as his coat was missing. The disturbance must have interrupted his routine, but even this encouraged my heart to hope.
Papa put his hand on Jonatan’s doorknob, but I interceded. “Papa, let me go in to see him first. I can calm my brother. I will explain to him what has happened in a way that he will understand. Please allow me to help.”
He nodded and waited for me to enter the room. I tapped lightly three times and followed the knocks with two more. That had always been our secret knock. I pushed the door open and immediately saw my brother sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. His dark hair was disheveled and his face bruised—his lip had been bloodied recently. Yes, he had been treated badly indeed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Papa lingered in the doorway. He too saw the signs of the abuse Jonatan had endured. His expression hardened, and he stomped down the hall and then the stairs, completely abandoning his crying wife.
“Mama, please. Be quiet,” I said to her before closing the door behind me. I didn’t run to Jonatan, and he did not acknowledge me. “Jonatan…it is me, Lafonda. It is me, Miss Fancy.” He still didn’t acknowledge me at all but kept his head down and talked to himself, whispering a string of words that made no sense. I walked to the nearby table and dipped a clean cloth in the cold water, then wrung it out and slowly walked toward him. I sat next to him but not too close.
“Jonatan, let me clean your face. I have a nice cool cloth here. I will not hurt you, brother. Let me help you.” When he did not look up, I touched his arm tentatively. My heart sank when he swatted at me and turned his back to me. He smelled as if he had not bathed in weeks, his hair was uncombed, and I thought I saw bugs crawling on his skin.
“Jonatan, you have to get clean. It is all over now,” I lied to him. “You are home now, and you are safe.”
“Sa-fe…” he repeated as he rocked back and forth. “No!” he said as I tried to touch him again.
“Do you want the cloth, then? Would you like to do it yourself?” I offered him the wet rag, and to my surprise he took it. He did not look at me and merely snatched the cloth away. He did not clean his face with it but sucked the water out of it.
“Oh, are you thirsty?” I went back to the table and poured half a glass of water, then sat on the carpet beside him again. I didn’t touch him but put the glass on the floor next to him. “Here is your water.” He slurped it up and threw the rag on the floor. “Jonatan, please look at me. It is me, Lafonda. Your sister, Miss Fancy. Look at me, Jonatan.”
As he put the glass down, I could see that his hands and fingernails were dirty. With each horrible detail I noticed, the more heartbroken I felt.
“Miss Fancy…Miss Fancy…”
“Yes, it’s me.”
Jonatan turned slightly and backed away from me. “You are not here. You are not here.”
“But I am here,” I said softly as I smiled at him and stretched out my hand. “Touch my fingers. You will see that I’m here.”
“It cannot be. I thought I saw you before, but it was not you. It was not you! You are not her
e!”
“Yes. Yes, I am. See.” I touched him ever so lightly and then withdrew my hand quickly. “I am no ghost, Jonatan. I am really here, and so are you. We’re here at home—at Seven Sisters. This is your room.”
“This is not home. I want Memphis.” He began to cry and curled up like a baby on the ground and wept. The sight brought tears to my own eyes. I reached out to him but then withdrew my hand. He needed a bath and food, but perhaps more than that, he needed to rest. Yes, maybe that was what he needed more than anything else.
“Please, Jonatan. Come lie down on the bed. You can sleep now. Please, let me help you.” To my surprise, he obeyed me. I pulled back his quilt and fluffed his pillows like I used to do when we were younger. “Take off your shoes, Jonatan. You won’t need them in bed.”
He crawled into the other side of the bed, taking his shoes off first. I didn’t touch him but pulled the covers up around him. He finally looked me in the eye. “You are real?”
“Yes, I am real. Sleep now, brother. Sleep, and when you wake up, I will have some food for you.”
“Some ham? I like ham.”
“Yes, Jonatan. You can have ham and biscuits. I will make them myself.”
I left him alone and quietly exited the room. Mama was gone; I heard her crying in her bedroom, and Lettie was undoubtedly with her. I went in search of Papa but did not find him. How disturbing! Is there no one I can depend on except Philip Beaumont? I thought about him as I helped Amy roll out the biscuits. We also cut a few slices of ham and fried it up with some butter. This was Jonatan’s favorite thing to eat.
It had gotten dark outside, so I knew time enough had passed for Jonatan to have gotten a good nap. “Amy, Jonatan is going to need a bath when he wakes up. Will you start some hot water, please? Ask Richard to help you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I took the tray upstairs, where it was dark. Had no one bothered to light the lamps? This was unlike Mama. She was usually so fastidious about such household details. I tapped on my brother’s door and listened for a moment. No noises at all. I pushed the door open and set his tray on the side table. There was some light in here, but I lit the lamp and quickly discovered that my brother was not here.
“Jonatan?” He was not hiding as he sometimes did when he was afraid.
I checked the other rooms on the top floor, except Mama’s room because I could hear her snoring. I searched downstairs, stopping by the kitchen first to ask Amy if she’d seen him, but she had not. Then I saw him. He was walking in the Moonlight Garden!
I stepped outside and was instantly wrapped in the chilly air. “Jonatan? What are you doing out here?” I raced after him. What could he be thinking? It didn’t take long to catch up with him. “Jonatan, where are you going? Your food is ready.” I touched his shoulder, and he launched at me like a rabid dog. His teeth were white and shining, and his bony hand was wrapped around my neck. “Jonatan!” I whispered desperately. “Let me go!”
“You are a ghost! A horrible ghost!” His voice was savage but broken. “Ghost! Go away, ghost!”
I struggled against his hands and kicked at him, but he wouldn’t let go. I felt my fingers and toes tingle, my throat hurt beyond expression, and suddenly everything went black.
Chapter Thirteen—Lafonda
“What do you want now, Lafonda?” Mama asked, patting her face with her worn powder puff as she finished dressing for the day. What a strange thing to say to me. I had not seen her in days, not since Papa found me in the garden. I still had a necklace of bruises around my neck, evidence that Jonatan had indeed assaulted me, but Mama did not believe such a thing could be true. She practically accused me of inflicting my own injuries and later blamed whomever she could think of, but I knew that Jonatan, my own sweet brother, had nearly choked the life out of me. I could barely believe it myself. Jonatan saw me but didn’t see me. In his eyes, I was a ghost, a malicious spirit set to do him harm. He never believed such things before his incarceration. I could not imagine what suffering he must have endured, though the evidence of it was clear.
Jonatan’s already fragile mind was broken.
My brother spent his days confined to his room now with only Papa for company. He screamed about phantoms night and day. Once in a while, he called my name. Papa had allowed me to visit Jonatan this morning, but only in Lettie’s presence. No one was to see him by themselves. Except for Papa.
The tone of the house had shifted. Whatever joy, light and love once dwelled at Seven Sisters shrank back to allow the nearly tangible sadness and fear to invade every nook and cranny. I hated this place more by the day.
“Speak, girl, or did you come in here to stare at me?” In the morning light, I could see white hairs intermixed with Mama’s darker ones, many more than before. It was as if she had aged overnight. She had never been what most would consider beautiful or even pretty, but she had certainly always been a handsome woman. Like Jonatan, she appeared kind of empty now, as if someone or something had stolen her energy, her spirit.
Is this guilt I see? Would guilt age a person?
Before I could answer her, she followed her question with another. “How is your brother today?”
Yes, that would be all that she cares about. Still, she has no thought for me, that my brother nearly killed me. As always, she only has love for Jonatan.
“The same as yesterday and the day before that. It has been four days, and he does nothing but cry and beg for Memphis. Which is why I am here, Mama. Jonatan needs his wife. Having her here might calm him, bring him to himself. Please, Mama. Let’s ask her to come before he goes to the courthouse. It will help him, calm him. It will not help his case if he appears a madman before the judge.”
Mama pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “I promise you I will not do that. And I never want to hear the name Overstreet again. I blame her for this.”
“How is that, Mama? Jonatan was happy with Memphis, and she with him. I was not sure at first, but now I know—she loves Jonatan. You must swallow your pride and put aside whatever dislike you may have for Memphis or her mother. We must think of Jonatan now. We need her here.”
Mama slapped her powder brush down, creating a plume of white dust that settled on her ebony vanity table. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. All I have ever done is think of you and Jonatan—and look where it has gotten me. I tried to protect him, and this is what has happened.” She closed her eyes and gripped the back of her chair. “God only knows what he endured during his imprisonment, yet I cannot comfort him. Why is that, Lafonda? What have you said to him? Have you been talking to him about Max Davenport?”
Surprised, I held my ground. “He has not asked about him, but if you know something about Max’s death, Mama, you must tell the sheriff. It might be the only way to save Jonatan. They want to hang him for murder.”
“They will never hang Jonatan. He is home now, and I will not let him go again.”
Frustrated with her ignorance, her complete lack of concern for Jonatan’s future, I barked at her, “He will stand trial for murder, Mama. That is a fact you cannot avoid. Barnum will make sure he is delivered to the judge for a trial, and all the world will know who Jonatan really is—a simple-minded boy. They will lay this murder at his feet!”
“I do not believe you. Your father will never allow that.”
“Papa cannot save Jonatan, Mama. Philip Beaumont knows the judge. Max’s wife is in Barnum’s ear night and day. She won’t give up until she sees someone pay.”
Mama’s icy stare wasn’t a pretty sight. It was hard, and an even harder smile spread across her face. “She wanted money. Did you know that, Lafonda? Max’s whore sent us letter after letter, but your father refused to pay her. I told him that was a mistake.”
“What? We must show those letters to Jonatan’s attorney! He will take them to the judge, and then the judge will see her for who she is. It might help Jonatan’s case.”
She shook her head, her ruby earrings swaying at her ea
rs. “Your father will never agree to that. He refuses to give Maggie Davenport, if that’s even her real name, any money.” Then her eyes widened and took on a hopeful expression. “Perhaps you could talk to him, Lafonda.” She suddenly brightened. “If he paid the whore, she would leave us alone. She says she will go away from here and never return.” She hurried to me; her face softened, and the lines around her eyes deepened as she smiled at me. I knew what she was doing. She was asking for my help with handling Papa. Mama was using me for her own ends, as usual. But I could read her eyes. I knew how she thought.
“Who killed Max, Mama? You know who did it, don’t you?” I could barely breathe now. I did not want to believe that my mother, the proper Jacinta Delarosa, could do murder, but I could not shake the thought. And if it was true, I wanted to hear it from her own lips. Mama had brought us to this ruin. This had all been her doing. What if it was true? “Answer me, Mama. I have to know.”
She stiffened and stood very tall, and all her softness had vanished. With her right hand, she tucked her dress behind her and then smoothed her skirts. “Whatever I may have done, I did it for Jonatan—for both my children. You have no idea, Lafonda, what I have endured to have him, to keep him with me. Don’t look at me like that. You have no right to judge me. None at all.”
“Tell me what happened. I want to know. Why?” I barely breathed the words.
With an exasperated sigh, she walked to the window and looked outside. When I thought she would not speak to me again, she did. “You know, I loved this house from the moment I saw it, but I knew it would never be home to us. Not really. I know what people say about us. I hear them laughing, mocking, even my own servants. Foreigners, they call us, interlopers. Carpetbaggers. I know what they say, but I endured it all for my son. Jonatan is so beautiful that everyone loves him. He could have done it, Lafonda. He would have made us legitimate. These Mobilians would have loved the Delarosa name, but then Max had to ruin everything.”
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