The daylight finally came, and Irving lay still in the finality of the last sleep. Jeff laid his father’s hand down and went and knelt beside Charissa’s chair. He put his arm around her and whispered, “I’m so glad that Father knew your trust in Jesus. Glad for his sake and glad for yours.”
“Jeff, I’m so—I don’t know. I’m so alone.”
“No, you have the Lord now, and you’ll always have me.”
“Do I really, Jeff?”
“Always, Charissa. I promise.”
Chapter fourteen
Damita stared at the letter, a frown on her brow. She looked up at her father, who had brought the mail in and was reading one of his own pieces of correspondence. “Papa, I can’t believe what’s in this letter.”
Alfredo Madariaga looked up. He appeared worried and weary. The past two years had put lines on his face. He was a proud man, and financial difficulties had shamed him. “Who is it from?”
“It’s from Jeff Whitman in St. Louis—Dr. Whitman, I suppose I should say.”
“Indeed? Why is he writing you, my dear?”
Damita flushed slightly and said breezily, “Oh, we’ve kept in touch since he went back to St. Louis. He came to see me twice when he was in town for business.” Alfredo had been too absorbed with the family business to notice when Dr. Whitman came by.
“I can’t think you two would have a great deal in common.”
“We don’t—except for Charissa, of course. Charissa was a slave here, but she’s an heiress now, according to this letter.”
“An heiress? How could that be?”
“I told you, Papa, but you forgot. Charissa was the natural daughter of Jeff ’s father, Dr. Irving Whitman.”
“Why, yes, I do remember you told me that.” He smiled. “It would be strange for you to meet her now, wouldn’t it?”
Damita bit her lower lip. “I may have the chance to find out,” she said, looking down at the letter. She hesitated, then said, “I never told you, Papa, but Jeff has become interested in me.”
Alfredo looked surprised. “Interested how?”
“As a suitor.”
“When did this all start?”
“He’s a fine letter writer. He wrote to tell me how Charissa was doing, and I answered his letters.”
“You don’t mean to tell me the man’s fallen in love with you by means of letters!”
“I’m not sure if he’s serious. He’s rather a shy man, but we’ve been writing for two years.”
“I’m surprised at you, Damita,” Madariaga said. He studied her for a moment. “How do you feel about this man? Surely you’re not interested in him!”
Damita looked angry, then shrugged. “The last two years haven’t been much fun, Papa. All the men who were after me when we had money have mysteriously disappeared.”
“They weren’t after your money.”
“You think that if it makes you happy,” Damita said in a strange, tight voice. “But I know better. It’s been quite an education, watching so many men who practically fought over me suddenly discover that I wasn’t such a prize.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, daughter,” Madariaga said quietly.
Damita looked at the letter for a long time, then lifted her head. “That’s evidently not enough for some men.”
“Would you be pleased if Whitman came, seeking your hand? But of course, he has not done so.”
Damita smiled and tapped her chin with her forefinger. “I’ve gotten to know Jeff pretty well over the past two years. He’ll come to see me. You can be sure of that.” She stood and smiled up at her father. “Don’t worry about me, Papa. I’ll not be an old maid on your hands!”
“Charissa, would you come into the study for a moment, please?”
Charissa had been passing the open door of the study when Jeff ’s voice caught her. Entering, she saw that an enormous pile of papers covered the large desk. The young doctor wore an anxious expression on his face, and she asked, “What is it, Jeff?”
“Come over here and sit down.” She did so, and Jeff pulled his chair opposite hers. “You look tired,” he said. “You haven’t been sleeping well since Father died.”
“Oh, I’m all right,” Charissa said. This was not exactly true, for during the six weeks that had passed since the death of her father, she had not been sleeping or eating normally. Though she had tried to conceal it from Jeff, both he and Olga knew that she had taken the death hard. “I suppose I’ll get over the loss of Papa sooner or later, but it’s difficult. You see, Jeff, I never really had anybody except Mama. Now I’ve lost both of them.”
Jeff leaned forward and put his hand over hers. “I know this is especially miserable for you, but it was a good way for him to go. He had lost interest in his professional life since he couldn’t work anymore, and he threw himself into you for the last two years. You did so much for him, Charissa.”
Charissa’s lower lip trembled, and she turned away so that he wouldn’t see. “I miss him every day,” she whispered.
“Just think, though,” Jeff insisted, “he’s with the Lord now.” He studied her face and then said more cheerfully, “And he got what he wanted most of all: to see you become a believer. It made him very happy, just as it does me.”
Charissa forced a smile. “The Lord has been good. My heart was so bitter.” Indeed, during the past few weeks Charissa had marveled at how her life had changed. Shortly after the funeral of her father, she had presented herself for membership at the Baptist church where Jeff belonged and been baptized. Then she began to study the Scripture as intently as she had studied nursing. “I can’t tell you, Jeff, how helpful you’ve been in teaching me this new way of life.”
“It’s always a joy to see someone going into the kingdom, especially a family member—a sister,” he added. He smiled, patted her hand, and then suddenly got up and went to the desk. He shuffled through the massive pile, found a certain sheaf of papers, and returned to his chair. When he sat down, he had an odd smile on his face, and his eyes were dancing. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What sort of surprise?”
“This is Father’s will. It took a little time to get it put together, and I was surprised at the size of his estate. He was a good businessman as well as a good doctor, and he made some wise investments.” He handed her the document, and she looked at it but shook her head.
“I can’t understand any of this.”
“You can understand this.” He turned over a few pages, then put his finger on a number with a dollar sign before it. “This is what he left you.”
Charissa gasped. “But—that’s impossible, Jeff!”
“It’s what’s he wanted you to have.”
“It’s too much. It should all be yours.”
“No, he left me plenty. He wanted you to have this, and he put it into a trust fund so that you’ll get a check every month. That’s this figure here.”
Charissa looked at the monthly figure and whispered, “Why, I could never spend that much money.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeff said. “You may have a talent for it. Just think of all the clothes you can buy. You can have a new carriage and a matched set of bays. Rings, bracelets. Whatever you want.”
“Jeff, I don’t really care for those things. You know that.”
“I know you don’t, but you can do lots of good with money, Charissa. You were talking about that mission work in Africa that you wanted to support financially. Look, you can send anything you like now.”
Charissa brightened. “That would be wonderful!”
Jeff passed his hand over his face for a moment and shook his head. “There’s one bad thing about it, though.”
“What’s that, Jeff?”
“You’ve had these young puppies wanting to call on you. They’ll be coming by the dozens, now that you’re an heiress.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
Jeff said, “I know I don’t. I was only teasing. I know you want
a good, sound Christian husband, and God will send one too. Just you wait and see.”
While Jeff talked, Charissa’s mind filled with this change in her life. She thought back to just two years before, when she had been a slave, penniless, afraid, ignored, and now she was an independent woman of property. She was so busy with her thoughts, she did not notice that Jeff, after he had replaced the papers, had come back and was standing over her. When she glanced up, she saw that he was troubled. She had learned to read his moods, and she asked, “What’s the matter, Jeff?”
“You know, Charissa, you have money enough to do anything you want. You could travel. You wouldn’t have to stay here.”
He was avoiding her question, so she asked again, “What’s wrong, Jeff? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“It’s nothing bad, Charissa. It’s just that, well, I’ve decided—” He stopped, cleared his throat, and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. “I have decided to make a change.”
“What sort of change?”
“I’m going to leave my practice here in St. Louis.”
Instantly Charissa knew what was coming. “You’re going to move to New Orleans, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes. How’d you guess that? I’m going into partnership with Elmo Debakky.”
The partnership was real enough; Charissa understood that. But she also understood that he had another reason for moving to New Orleans. He’s infatuated with Damita. He doesn’t know her. He’s such a fool where women are concerned.
“I wish you’d go with me, Charissa,” Jeff said hurriedly, stumbling over the words. “I know you have some bad memories of that city, but it could be a good move.”
“I don’t think I’d care to do that, Jeff.”
Jeff started to speak again but stopped. He had learned that Charissa Desjardin had an enormous certainty in her, almost a stubbornness at times. He saw that in her now, in the tight line of her lips and the cold expression of her eyes. “I was afraid you’d feel that way,” he said. “But at least think about it, will you?” He hesitated, then said, “I . . . I don’t want us to be apart, Charissa.”
Charissa felt such a heaviness she could barely speak. “I’ll think about it, but I don’t believe I would do such a thing.”
For almost a month after Jeff informed her of his decision to move to New Orleans, Charissa felt troubled. The thought of living apart from him was more painful than she had imagined. She had admitted to herself before this that she cared for him, and she carried hope that one day, he would look at her the way a man looks at a woman he loves. That hope now seemed destroyed. She knew that he would not rearrange his life and move to New Orleans unless he was determined to court Damita.
Two weeks after his announcement, Jeff said, “Charissa, I won’t sell the house if you want to stay here. It’s really as much yours as it is mine, but I keep hoping that you’ll change your mind.”
After that conversation, Charissa began to pray frequently. She knew little about prayer. She had heard a sermon on it, had read in the Gospels and Paul’s writings about the power of prayer, but she had not experienced it herself. Now she prayed passionately, asking God to do something. She did not know exactly what, but she knew that she was about to lose someone she treasured. At times, she cried out for God to change Jeff ’s mind and make him see her as a woman, but this did not happen. She grew despondent, and in the middle of July when Jeff was making his final plans, she grew desperate. She had read of fasting, and for two days she did not eat a bite and prayed almost constantly.
Late that Thursday night, she was on her knees, seeking God, when she suddenly seemed to collapse inwardly. Her face was pressed against the bed where she knelt, and she felt that she had done all she could. She said, “Oh, Father, I don’t know how to pray any more, but I know that the Savior asked that Your will be done. So, that’s what I pray: Let Your will be done.” She stayed on her knees for a time, then rose, walked to the window, and looked out into the darkness. “Your will be done,” she said. “And, Lord, I’m asking You to give me some sign about what I should do. I’m weak. I can’t make this decision. If You want me to go to New Orleans with Jeff, I ask You to send somebody to tell me so.”
As soon as she had prayed this, she shook her head. “That’s a foolish prayer,” she muttered. She crawled into bed and tried to sleep.
Charissa stayed in her room most of the day. She had broken her fast but continued to say the simple prayer, “God, Your will be done.” After supper, she listened as Jeff explained, with some excitement, the great things the practice in New Orleans held for him. She tried to show interest but was glad when he rose to go to his study.
“I wish you were going with me, Charissa,” he said. He went over, and as he often did, he put his hand on her head. He admired her hair, so black and sleek. He held his hand there for a moment and then turned abruptly and left the room.
Charissa went to bed as well, but at ten o’clock she grew thirsty. The pitcher was empty on her washstand, so she took it down to the kitchen. She was filling it up with cool water when Olga came into the room. “You’re up late, Charissa! I thought you had gone to bed.”
“I did, but I got thirsty and didn’t have any water.”
Olga waited until Charissa had filled the pitcher. She said, “You know, I tink all the time about how gute you were for Dr. Irving.”
“He was the one who was good.”
Olga hesitated, then put her arm around Charissa. She had never done this before. Charissa saw that the older woman was worried, and she asked, “What is it, Olga?”
“Oh, nothing. But I haf learned to loff you, too, during the time you’ve been here. I know—” She shook her head. “I know you’re vorried about Jefferson leaving. I don’t meddle in people’s lives, Charissa, but when I vas praying for you tonight in my room, the strangest notion came into my mind.”
Charissa stood still. “What was that, Olga?”
“I feel that God wants you to go to New Orleans.”
Shock ran through Charissa. She could not speak.
“How you must hate it when people tell you what to do.”
“No, no, that’s not so. Olga, let me tell you what I’ve been praying.” Words tumbled out, and she ended by saying, “And so, God has given me exactly what I need.”
“So, you vill go to New Orleans?”
“Yes, I will.”
Mrs. Shultz stepped back then, but she took Charissa’s hand. “Tell me—you loff Jefferson?” When she saw the girl drop her eyes, she said, “Oh, he does not know it. Men are stupid, but I haf seen it. Ve vill pray, you and I, that God vill open his blind eyes and see what a pearl has been hidden here.” She put her hands on Charissa’s cheeks, and her eyes burned with an unusual light. “And when he sees this pearl, he vill sell all he has to get it!”
The next morning, as soon as Jeff walked out of his bedroom, he met Charissa. She was smiling, and her eyes were bright with hope. He asked, “What in the world is it, Charissa?”
“I’ve come to tell you something. I’m going to New Orleans with you, Jefferson.”
“You are? That’s splendid!” He suddenly reached out, put both arms around her, and picked her up off the floor. He swung her around several times until she grew dizzy and then put her down and kissed her on the cheek. “You’ve made me so happy, sister!”
“I am not your sister, Jefferson.”
Jeff was too excited to hear her comment. “We’ll leave as soon as we can find work for the servants. I’ve already got a buyer for the house. Tell you what: Let’s go shopping and buy you some outrageous clothes.”
“And you, too, Jeff.”
“All right. If you say so.” He was almost giddy. He took her hand and said ecstatically, “We’re going to bust New Orleans wide open, sister—” He shook his head and laughed. “I mean Miss Charissa Desjardin.”
“You’re here at last!” Elmo Debakky exclaimed. He had opened the door to find Jeff and Charissa s
tanding outside. He grabbed Jeff by the hand, pulled him in, and then turned to Charissa and took her hand as well. “Welcome to New Orleans.”
Jeff and Charissa had discussed living in Debakky’s house. In truth, it was an enormous house, but Charissa felt it might present problems. Jeff, however, had convinced her, and now Debakky’s delight was evident.
“I’m glad you’re here. I’ve rattled around this old barn so long by myself, it’ll be good to have someone to have fuss with. We might as well have our first one right now.”
“It’s a bit soon, isn’t it, Dr. Debakky?”
“Just Elmo, Charissa, when we’re all alone. Later on, when people are around, we’ll be a little more formal. No, it’s not too soon. I always say, have an argument as quick as you can, and get it out of the away. Then we’ll all kiss and make up.”
“What are we going to argue about?” Jeff smiled. He was pleased to be in New Orleans. He had been in such a turmoil, getting affairs closed up and then making the move, but now that he was there, he was happy to see his friend and felt that he had made the right choice.
“There’s a ball tonight, one of those fancy affairs that I usually hate, but I got a new suit, and I’m going to wear it, and you two are going with me.”
“Oh, I’m sure Charissa’s too tired for that. It’s been a hard trip,” Jeff protested.
“Nonsense. She looks fresh as the morning breeze. If you don’t have a dress, we have time to go buy one.”
“I have a dress, Elmo,” Charissa said, “but I’m not sure I should go.”
“Of course you should go. We’ll break in those new clothes we bought at home,” Jeff said.
“It’s not the same in St. Louis. Nobody knew me there. But I’ve got a past here.”
“Forget the past!” Elmo shouted. He was pacing, rubbing his hands together. “I’m introducing you two to New Orleans tonight.” He punched Jeff on the shoulder and said, “I’ll introduce you as my new partner, the second-best physician in New Orleans.” He turned to Charissa and said, “And I’ll introduce you as Miss Charissa Desjardin, the toast of St. Louis now come to grace the city of New Orleans. It’ll be a ball to remember!”
The Immortelles Page 15