“And you think I would ruin it?”
Charissa smiled slightly. “Do you forget how well I know you, Damita?” It was the first time she had called the woman by her first name. “He’s not like the young men who chase you around to parties and balls. He’s a serious man, and you’d make him very unhappy.”
“He doesn’t seem to think so.”
“He doesn’t know you. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t know anything about women.”
Strangely enough, Damita was not angry at Charissa, and this puzzled her. Ordinarily, if a former servant or slave had spoken to her on such a personal matter, she would have been furious. She marveled at her sense of calm. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. She leaned forward slightly, and her eyes narrowed. “I see how it is.”
Charissa saw something in Damita’s eyes that made her ask, “What is it you see?”
“I see why you don’t want me to marry him.”
“I’ve told you why. You’d make him unhappy.”
“What you don’t say is that you’re in love with him.”
As soon as Damita said this, a rich color suffused Charissa’s face. Something like guilt washed across the young woman’s countenance, and she had difficulty speaking. Charissa stammered, “That’s . . . that’s not so.”
“I think it is.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Charissa said loudly. “He’s my brother.”
“No, he’s not your brother.”
Charissa had expected anything but this. She would not have been surprised to see Damita fly into a rage, but the young woman showed a composure that was disturbing. The accusation, true as it was, was one that she could not bear to hear Damita speak. “No, it’s not so!” she cried. “You mustn’t say things like that.”
Damita felt a sudden compassion for the girl. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s very obvious that you are.”
Charissa whispered, “It would be a tragedy if you married Jeff. Thank you for seeing me.” She strode to the door, opened it, and fled.
Damita watched her go. What a strange thing, she thought. But Jeff would never care for her, except as an object of pity.
She walked over to the window and watched Charissa as she climbed into her carriage. When the carriage disappeared from view, she whispered, “I’m sorry for her, but I’ll do anything to save my family.” She turned from the window, and a resolution that she had made earlier became stronger. There’s got to be some way to solve this financial mess. If I could get the bank to agree to just one year, we sold this house, and we had a good crop, I’ll bet we could at least hang on to the plantation.
She went to her room and put on a traveling dress and a bonnet. On her way to the front door, she told her mother, “I’m going out to the plantation.”
Elena showed surprise. Thinner since her husband’s death, the widow now had new lines of worry in her face. “Why are you going there?”
“I’m going to talk to Napier.”
“What in the world for?”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to him about the plantation. If we rearrange things there so that we’re assured of cutting expenses, and if we get an extension from the bank, I’m hopeful we’ll be able to save the place. Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll probably stay overnight. I’ll be back in the morning.” Kissing Elena, she turned and left the house.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Damita,” said Claude Napier, the overseer of the Madariaga plantation. He was a strong, bulky man with blunt features, small hazel eyes, and a mouth like a catfish, usually twisted in a sneer. He had listened as Damita explained what she wanted, but now he was impatient. “Do you think we haven’t tried all them things before?”
“But this is an emergency, Napier. If we don’t do something, we’ll lose this plantation. Then you’ll be out of a place just as we will.”
Napier looked down at Damita with disdain. “You never gave the plantation a thought until now. In all these years, what do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve been struggling to make it pay, and all the time your father was out gambling money away.”
“Don’t you speak of my father!” Damita snapped, her eyes flashing. “I won’t hear a word about it.”
Napier said, “Have it your own way, but I’m telling you right now that there’s no way to make this place pay enough to get it out of debt.”
“I’ll have to see what I can do myself.”
As she was leaving, Napier called out, “What do you think you can do? You don’t know the first thing about growing cotton.”
This was a forceful truth, but Damita did not turn to answer. She climbed into her carriage and said to the driver, “Take me back to the city, please.”
As the carriage started with a violent jerk, she was thrown back but did not even rebuke the driver. All the way back to the city, her mind worked, trying to find some way of escape. She felt small and helpless and vulnerable, and fear was a coldness that filled her from head to toe.
I may have to marry Jeff. She closed her eyes and tried to think of another way. No ideas came, and she began to wonder what it would be like to be married to the doctor. He’s a good man. He’s not handsome, and he’s certainly not the kind of man I’ve always wanted, but he wouldn’t be a cruel husband. It would be good for Mama to have the security. And he would take care of all of us. With his financial support, we’d be secure for life.
All the way back to New Orleans, Damita thought wildly about her options. She instructed her driver to take her to the wharf. She knew little enough about how business was conducted there, but she knew she could ask Yancy about the price of cotton.
Getting out, she told the driver to wait and walked toward Devereaux’s office. As she stepped inside, she saw Yancy speaking with an attractive young woman with curly brown hair and twinkling blue eyes. He saw Damita and smiled. “Miss Madariaga, I would like for you to meet a good friend of mine from Shreveport. This is Mrs. Lucy Adcock.”
The two women exchanged greetings, and Yancy said, “Mrs. Adcock needs to get to the depot, and I can’t leave the office. Would you possibly be able to show her the way, Miss Damita?”
“Of course, it’d be no trouble at all.”
“I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.”
“It isn’t far. Yancy, I’d like to see you for a moment when I come back.”
“I’ll be here all day.” He turned and said, “It’s so good to see you. You tell Howard that I appreciate his offer.”
“I hope you’ll take him up on it.”
Yancy shrugged. “Who knows? Take care, Lucy.”
The two women left the office, and Damita said, “My carriage is here. Why don’t we go in that? It’s only a few blocks, but it’s cold today.”
“That would be very nice.”
The two women climbed into the carriage, and Damita gave the instructions. As the carriage moved forward, she asked, “Have you known Yancy for a long time?”
“For quite a while. You see, my husband and I bought his plantation just outside of Shreveport.”
“Oh, I see! Is it a large place?”
“Very large. Yancy never told you about it?”
“No, he never has.”
“It’s really quite a story. Yancy took over the place when he was a very young man. I don’t know how he scraped together enough money to make a down payment. The plantation had gotten rundown, but it had possibilities.” Lucy Adcock shook her head. “We didn’t know him in those early days, but later on, we found out that he had worked night and day, year-round, never taking a vacation. And he made a fine place out of it. I wish you could see it.”
“You and your husband bought it?”
“Yes, we did. Yancy worked like a slave to pay it off, and as soon as it was in the clear, he put it up for sale. It’s beautiful.” Lucy Adcock’s eyes sparkled. “He not only worked on the land, but he made the house a showplace. Howard and I have been so happy there.”
“I didn’t know Yancy was that ski
lled—running a plantation and restoring a home.”
“Oh, there’s nobody like him!” The woman hesitated, then said, “As a matter of fact, I came to see him about coming back and managing the place for Howard.”
“Managing it?”
“Yes, we heard about his bad fortune. He made little of it, but it hurt him to lose everything he had. So, Howard and I talked about it, and we thought how wonderful it would be if he’d return and just take over. Howard works too hard, but with Yancy there, he and I would have lots of freedom. We could even travel abroad.”
“Do you think Yancy will come?”
“I don’t know. Howard has offered him a most lucrative position, but Yancy has bad memories of all those hard, lean years when he worked like a slave. He did some of the plowing himself. He was more of a slave than any of the black people who worked with him. Those were difficult days for him, but I hope he moves back to Shreveport. Have you known him long?”
Damita answered, “For quite a while. I think it’s wonderful that you made him an offer like that.”
Chapter eighteen
March had come to New Orleans, a warm, early spring that drove out the cold breezes. Damita had ordinarily welcomed the season’s change, but now, with the crisis she woke up thinking about every day, she took no joy in it. She struggled constantly with the question of what to do, and the conversation she had had with Lucy Adcock stayed with her.
Jeff had been insistent, but she had put him off as gently as she could. Now, early one Friday afternoon, she was walking nervously about the house, remembering Jeff ’s visit the night before. He exerted more pressure this time. Moving to the window, Damita thought about how he had urged her, saying, “Damita, I want to take care of you and your family. I think we ought to marry at once.”
Now, looking out blindly at those who passed by on the street below, Damita knew that things could not go on as they had. She had met with Asa Pennington several days prior, and he had admonished her more stringently than ever before. “Something has to be done, my dear young lady. It’s not just the bank, but other creditors.”
Damita had asked him the question that had been on her mind lately. “Suppose we had a good manager for the plantation. Is there any way that the bank could arrange to give us more time?”
Pennington had been rather negative, but Damita had seen something in his eyes that had encouraged her. Turning, she put on her coat and hat and left the house. She had her driver take her to the cotton market, where she found Yancy working on papers in his office. He smiled and stood to his feet. “A welcome relief from these dull things.”
“Yancy, I need to speak to you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Isn’t there someplace we could go, where we won’t be interrupted?”
Yancy looked puzzled. “I suppose so. Nothing very urgent this afternoon. I can close early.” He picked up his coat, put it on, then settled his white hat with the broad brim on his head. “Come along. We should be able to find a quiet corner. Have you ever been to Luigi’s?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“It’s a small place. It’ll be empty this time of the day, but they make good café au lait.”
She accompanied him down the street, and he turned into a small café. A compact man with a broad smile greeted them. “Ah, Mr. Devereaux, you’re early for a meal.”
“Just café au lait for both of us.”
“I will fix it myself.”
“Right over here, Damita.”
There was only one other couple at the other end of the room. The sun shone in, lighting Yancy’s face as he sat down across from her. She studied him carefully. There was a looseness about him, and his face was smooth and tan. His body was angular and strong-looking—the body of a man who made his living with his muscles.
Suddenly she realized she knew very little of this man. He was smiling faintly, but she knew that behind that smile was a hunger and a loneliness and a temper that could sweep a woman away. She knew that his nerves were not easily touched by small things, but as she watched him, she sensed that he was somehow troubled by deeper issues.
After the waiter had brought the coffee, she ignored it and leaned forward, saying, “I’ve been thinking of something ever since I met your friend Mrs. Adcock.”
“She’s a fine lady, and her husband’s a fine man.”
“She told me about your early struggles to make the plantation pay. She said you worked harder than any man should have to.”
Yancy turned his head slightly to one side and studied her. “Why did she tell you about all that?”
“Because she was so anxious for you to come and manage their plantation. Are you going to do it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I guess I worked myself too hard when I was building that place up. I still have bad dreams about it. I don’t suppose you have any idea of what it’s like, working until you can’t speak properly, and falling into bed, too tired to eat. Those years took something out of me. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Yancy.”
Her words startled him. “Why should you say that? What difference does it make to you?”
“Because I’m going to ask you to do something, and now I know you won’t.”
Yancy picked up his cup, sipped the coffee, then said, “Why don’t you ask me, and let me make up my own mind about what I’m going to do?”
A tiny ray of hope flickered inside Damita. She said quietly, “I want you to come and manage our plantation.”
He was surprised and showed it. “Why would I want to do that?”
“There’s no reason. I know you hate farming. I know it would be hard for you, but it’s the only hope we have. I’ve been down to talk to the banker, Mr. Pennington. I believe that if a good man were there to take over, he would give us one year. It would be a terrible year, about like those early years for you in Shreveport, but I’d give up everything and so would my mother, if we could only hang on to the place.”
Yancy was almost distracted by the beauty he saw in her face, in the rich curve of her lips and the ivory shading of her skin. He put these thoughts out of his mind and studied her more closely. “I know you’ve been having difficulty.”
“It’s more than that. It’s the end of everything for us. We won’t have anything, Yancy.”
“I ran into Dr. Debakky the other day. He told me his partner had asked you to marry him.”
Damita was startled. “He . . . he has.”
“That would be an easy way. Doctors have lots of money. The bank would do anything for him.”
Damita felt thoroughly uncomfortable. She held her head high and said, “I have been tempted, but I just can’t do it.” She hesitated, then asked, “Would you please do one thing for me? Come and look at the plantation, and then look at the figures, before you say no.”
Yancy suddenly smiled. “All right. I can do that, but no guarantees.”
“I understand. Thank you, Yancy.”
When she arrived back home, Damita explained her plan to her mother, and Elena said excitedly, “Oh, if he could only help us, Damita!”
“Don’t say a word to him, Mother. We mustn’t pressure him.”
Four days later, Damita stood outside her father’s study. The door was closed, and she stared at it as if it held some answer for her. Yancy had accompanied her to the plantation. She had introduced him to Claude Napier, who had been boorish as usual, but Yancy had spent two days walking over the grounds and lots of time talking to the slaves. This displeased the overseer, and he said in a surly fashion, “There’s no way to save this place. I done told her that.”
Damita also knew that Yancy had visited Mr. Pennington, although he had not revealed the results of his meeting. Now he had been all day in the study, pausing only long enough to eat a light lunch. Damita had sent it in by one of the maids, for he had demanded to be left alone.
&nb
sp; As she stood by the light of the lamp that lit the hallway, she thought, What will I do if he says no? The thought frightened her. She reached out and knocked firmly on the door. When she heard his voice, she entered.
“Hello, Damita.” Yancy was in his shirtsleeves, standing beside the window. She saw nothing in his face that indicated his intentions.
“I couldn’t wait any longer, Yancy. Can you tell me anything?”
Yancy walked over to the desk, which was covered with papers. She could see that he had filled up many pages with figures and notes. “It’s not going to be easy.”
His words renewed Damita’s hope. “You mean you’ll help us?”
“Damita, it would take a miracle, but I’ll try. I’ll try, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh, yes, Yancy! That’s what I want!”
She walked toward him and put out her hand, but he shook his head. “Wait a minute. Let me tell you the rest of it.”
“What is it?”
“If I come, I must have complete authority over all money and everything that goes on at the plantation. You will have to sell this house. You might realize a little money on it. I’ve talked to Mr. Pennington, and he’ll let us have just barely enough to make a crop, but we’ll have to sell off some of the slaves. We’ll work with a small crew. If we get a good cotton crop, he will give us another year. Two good years would do it, but it’s going to be nothing but misery.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“That’s what you say now,” he said. “But you’ve never had to really do without, Damita. This means no new dresses, no new shoes, no running around to the opera every time you take a notion. And the same is true for your mother. It’ll be poor doings.”
“Do you think you can save us, Yancy?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll do anything to keep a place for my family.”
Yancy suddenly reached out and pulled her close. Damita did not resist but looked in his face. She saw something in his eyes that reminded her of those moments when she had almost given herself to him, and now she whispered, “What are you doing, Yancy?”
The Immortelles Page 19