After The Lies

by Mandessa Selby

  Luc waved the coin away. “You have children to feed.”

  “This is will feed them all the rest of the year. Thank you, sir.”

  Luc pushed out of the carriage. He had to get away, to think. Luc had to find a way to break up this marriage. He couldn’t go back to Esme and tell her what had happened. Esme would walk herself back to New Orleans and kill the bastard. And Luc wasn’t too sure he wouldn’t be at her side.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Luc woke the next morning with the sun streaming through the window. He had tossed and turned the whole night trying to figure out what to do about Jonas Ramsaye’s marriage to his half-sister. No seventeen year old girl deserved to be saddled with a husband old enough to be her great-grandfather even worst one who wanted to use her as a brood mare.

  He decided the only option he had was to confront his father’s wife . Esme had made the marriage a moot point, he didn’t understand why Natalie insisted it continue.

  He stalked out of the room to find Callie sitting on the table eating her breakfast. She wore her old pants and a plaid shirt two sizes too big for her. Despite her clothes, he was stuck by how beautiful she was. As beautiful as she was in her feminine garb, the sight of her in men’s clothing was more intense.

  “Captain,” she struggled to stand, “good morning.”

  “Good morning, Callie.”

  “City life is making you soft. Look at the clock. It’s already after nine. The sun has been up for hours.”

  Luc frowned. “What do you think I’m going to do so early? Hunt Comanche in the Garden District, or trail some cattle rustlers through Jackson Square.”

  Red stained her cheeks. “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t thinking.” She sat down again.

  “At ease, soldier. We’re on leave. Before I joined the army, I rarely rose before noon. So enjoy the leisure time. It may not come again for a long while.”

  She smiled. “What are we going to do today? I’m tired of being cooped up in this room.”

  “I hired one of Cornelius many cousins to take you on a carriage ride through the city while I take care of some business.” Her lips drooped in a frown. “Can’t I come with you?”

  “No,” he replied in a firm tone she knew from the past meant he was issuing an order. Her eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  At this moment she reminded of a very unhappy five year-old, but a battle test solider. “Because I said no. This is personal.”

  “I see.” She glanced down at her place and fiddled with her fork.

  He could tell from the stiffness of her body, she didn’t see. He knew all her secrets, but she had no right to know his. Her secret was not life or death. If anyone found out what she was, they’d send her home. But his secrets had a whole a different set of problems attached. But with him who knew what the army would do, he could face either a simple discharge or a firing squad. He doubted the army would know what to do with him should they find out his secret.

  She slanted a glance at him. “I thought you wanted to spend time with me.”

  “I have a surprise for you. Something that includes lots of people, music and food. You can wear your prettiest gown.”

  Her face brightened. “What?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “But I want to know now.” Her eyes sparkled.

  He shook his head. Now that he’d made the promise, he’d have to consult Cornelius on how to accomplish his promise. Cornelius was certain to know where Luc could take Callie. “Tonight.” He picked up his hat. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t you want your breakfast?” She gestured at the array of food dishes on the table.

  He shook his head. “I have business and I want to get it over as quickly as possible.” Not that he wanted to face Natalie at all, but he had to take care of Simone. He opened the door and stalked out into the hall. He would stop for beignets and café du lait at Café du Monde. As he walked down the stairs and out onto the street, he catalogued what he was going to do. See Natalie, go to the bank to withdraw funds since he was running low on money, and take a moment to visit his old home.

  He hadn’t seen the home he’d grown up in since he and Esme had been sent to Paris. After the bank, he found himself standing in front of his mother’s cottage amazed to find it so well kept up.

  Magnolia trees shaded the house. Azaleas lined the pathways through the garden. His mother had loved flowers. He remembered the day she’d planted the hibiscus in the corner. It was huge now, dominating the area of the side yard like a sentinel. His mother had never allowed anyone to touch her garden. She planted each rose bush, every flower herself. His happiest memories were of her weeding while he swung on the swing tied to the overhanging branches of the ancient live oak in the back yard.

  A gardener knelt in front of a flower pulling at an errant weed. Luc stepped around the white fence and approached him. The man had a familiar look to him, but Luc couldn’t place him.

  “Don’t I know you?” Luc asked the old man.

  The gardener turned his wrinkled brown face to Luc. “Might have met my brother, at Mr. Delacroix’s home.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is anyone inside?” Luc pointed at the front door. He ached to enter to retrace the steps of his childhood.

  “What’s your concern, sir?”

  Luc paused. “I’m thinking of purchasing the property.”

  The garden smiled. “I don’t think so, sir. Mr. Delacroix wouldn’t part with this place for nothing. Told me it had happy memories for him.”

  Happy memories for Luc, too. “You take good care of the place.”

  The old man nodded. “Before Mr. Delacroix took sick, he visited most every week. My wife, usually she cleans the house but she’s ailing today, says he hasn’t changed a thing on the inside. His lady’s clothes are still in the closet and her brushes on the vanity. Even kept all the children’s clothes here.”

  Luc stared at the cottage. Esme had said she had found the family in dire circumstances. Why hadn’t his father sold this house? The Delacroix’s were not known for their sentimentality. Esme certainly had inherited that trait. But their mother had been sentimental. As a young boy, Luc remembered finding a golden mother-of-pearl box. Inside were locks of hair tied in ribbons, two baby teeth, and silver rattles with his and Esme’s initials on them.

  “Can I see inside?” Luc asked.

  “Don’t seem much harm in that, seein’ as how you’re planning on offering for it. Land speculation is big in this part of the city.” He reached into his back pocket and handed Luc a key.

  Luc stepped onto the porch. The scent of the magnolias took him back into his past. He imagined his mother on her porch swing, swinging back and forth while she cleaned a bowl of snap beans. Their cat, Rags, has curled up at her feet. Esme had liked to sit on the railing and watch the street.

  Luc opened the door and stepped into the parlor. His mother’s possessions sat around the room as though she had just left them. A book half opened on the sofa. Lacy curtains waved gently in the breeze. A portrait of Esme and Luc hung on the wall. Another one of his mother and father on another wall.

  The furniture was delicate, feminine. The only out of place piece was a huge black leather chair at an angle to the fireplace. Luc touched the chair, the leather was soft and supple beneath his fingers. His father had sat in this chair with Esme and Luc on his knees while he read to them. A row of children’s books sat on a table near the arm. A carved horse rode on the fireplace mantle. The first bedroom on the right had been his mother’s. Crystal perfume bottles decorated the vanity. He picked up one of the bottles and uncapped it. The fragrance of the bottle was long gone, but he remembered the scent of spring flowers and summer rain on his skin.

  A silver brush and ivory combs rested on an etched mirror tray. His mother had had blue-black hair down to her waist. He had enjoyed running his fingers through her silky waves. She used to let Esme and Luc take turns brushing her hair.
He still remembered the soothing rhythm of the brush.

  Two earrings sat on the tray, ruby red jewels winking in the morning light. The earrings would look beautiful on Callie with her long graceful neck and small ears. His father had bought those earrings to celebrate Luc and Esme’s birth. Their birth stones.

  Miniature portraits of Esme and Luc as babies, painted by their mother, decorated the dresser. Esme had inherited their mother’s talent and their father’s drive.

  The bed was turned open waiting for his mother. Luc’s most painful memory was of her death in this room, in that bed. He remembered the painful breathing that had stilled the laughter which had filled his childhood. Her laughter had been like music. Her death had been a stillness in his heart that still hurt him eighteen years later.

  Luc wished he could share the idyllic memories of his childhood with Callie. He’d been happy in this cottage, at peace with himself. A peace he hadn’t experienced again until he’d gotten to know Callie. She would like this cottage. She could be happy here with the garden and the flowers, so different from her desert home.

  He wandered through the rest of the house, but the memories were so overwhelming he had finally had to leave. As he locked the door behind him and handed the key back to the gardener, he realized that he had never thought of himself as a sentimental man, almost as though sentimentality was a weakness. When he’d broken with his father, he thought he’d broken with his past, but he’d been wrong. He had locked all his memories away, the same way his father had kept that house in such an unchanged manner.

  He thanked the gardener and hurried down the street. He paused at the corner and turned, his glance sweeping over the house. For a moment, he had the odd feeling someone watched him, but he shrugged the odd feeling away.

  He turned a corner and headed toward his father’s house. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He wasn’t a superstitious man, but he couldn’t help feeling that the eyes of the past followed him, that the ghosts of the Quarter judged him as he hurried down the banquette, rushing away from the confrontation from his past.

  His father’s house was bathed in late morning sunlight. The fresh flowers, so recently planted, raised their colorful bloom to the sun. Luc paused at the street to stare at the windows, preparing himself for the confrontation to come. Then he walked up the steps to the front door and knocked.

  The door swung open and a young girl, maybe ten or eleven years old stood in the hallway staring up at him.

  A smile grew on her lips. “You look like my sister Esme.”

  Luc felt a smile growing in on his own lips. “That’s because I’m your brother, Luc.”

  She rushed at him and threw her arms around his waist. “Did you bring Esme with you?” She glanced around him. “She said she would take me to San Francisco when I was older. Well, I’m older now.”

  Luc started laughing. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Before you can go to San Francisco, a lot of arrangements have to be made. One of which, I have to speak to our Papa.” So this was Lauren. What a charmer she was and even in her childish features, he could see the beauty she’d be some day.

  “Papa’s upstairs.” Lauren took his hand and tugged him into the house. “I was reading to him, but he was tired, so I let him sleep.”

  “What were you reading?”

  “Sir Walter Scott. Ivanhoe.”

  “That’s an interesting story.” As Luc walked through the house, he saw empty places on the walls where paintings had been sold. Esme had told him how she had attempted to recover the furnishings, but many had not been found. “Is your Mama at home?”

  “She’s out having lunch with Mr. Jonas.” Lauren tugged him up the stairs to the second floor. “Mr. Jonas is marrying Simone. Simone hates him. He’s old and pinches her. But he has lots of money. Mama says we’re poor, but Esme is rich and if she’s rich then you’re rich, and Simone shouldn’t have to marry him.”

  She prattled on and on, but was a wealth of information. She led Luc down the hall toward his father’s bedroom. When he approached, he hesitated. So much anger between them, would he be able to repair the damage?

  His father lay on the huge bed, a small shrunken man, shriveled and gray. What had happened to the tall, strong man who had been Luc’s father? Luc stopped and stared, a peculiar grief filling him at the lost years between them.

  His father’s eyes were closed, his skin almost translucent. Luc recognized the smell of death lingering in the room. His years on the battlefield had taught him about death. He bent over to whisper in Lauren’s ear. “Would you leave me alone with our father, please?”

  “Can I bring you some iced tea? I make good tea, but Mama says I put too much sugar in it, but I like my tea extra sweet. Don’t you?”

  “Tea extra sweet would be nice, but don’t bring it for a full fifteen minutes.”

  “I can tell time. Esme gave me this watch.” And she showed him a small watch pinned to her bodice.

  He smiled at her and patted her on the head. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his voluble little sister.

  After Lauren left, he entered the room. He tried to summon the anger that his father’s animosity had planted in him, but it wouldn’t come. He had no room in heart for last recriminations. This was his last chance to make peace with his father, or else just leave without waking him.

  Luc licked dry lips, and then sat down in the chair at the side of the bed. He gazed at his father for a minute before he gently rested his hand on his father’s. The fingers were chilled and his skin felt like paper. His father’s lids fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning to gaze at Luc.

  “Lucien. I’d hoped you’d come.”

  “Papa.”

  His father sighed. “You’re a man. I missed seeing you grow into a man.”

  “No regrets, Papa. Promise me, no regrets.”

  “I don’t have much time.”

  “I know.” The words stuck in Luc’s throat.

  “Take care of your sisters. Like I should have taken care of you.”

  Luc nodded. His father needed absolution. What right did Luc have to pass judgement on him, or ask him to change? His father was old and dying. He didn’t need to take the burden of his actions into the next world.

  “Please,” his father whispered.

  A huge lump closed his throat. He felt the unaccustomed heat of tears. The weight of all the years fell away from him. He was amazed that the anger was gone. Some childish part of him wanted to cling to the anger. “There’s nothing to forgive.” Luc bent close and kissed his father on the lips, relieving his father of the burden. Tears overflowed and dripped down Luc’s cheeks.

  His father smiled. “Don’t cry over me, Luc.”

  But Luc didn’t brush the tears away. “Papa, I love you.” And with the words, he felt his own burden and guilt fall away. He thought about all the years they’d missed loving each other.

  “I love you, Luc. Don’t leave me again.” He closed his eyes, his breathing stilling.

  Luc felt a moment of fear, but he saw the slight rise and fall of his father’s chest and realized he was only asleep. Luc reached up to tuck the blanket securely around his father’s frail shoulders. When he turned, he found Natalie standing in the doorway, glaring at him with such hatred, Luc winced. What had he done to this woman to so earn such scorn and ire?

  “Get out of my house,” she hissed.

  Luc stood and walked softly from the room. In the hall, he faced her. “You live in this house at my sufferance.” Esme had told him she’d purchased the mortgage. The house belonged to them.

  She turned stiffly and started toward the stairs.

  Luc caught up with her. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  She drew in a harsh breath. “You have no rights here. You are not a legitimate heir.”

  “This pauper’s palace. I already own it.”

  She stamped down the stairs, her body unyielding. “I wan
t you out of this house now.”

  “I’ll leave, but not before I finish with you.”

  She turned on him and gave a brittle laugh. “You forget your station.”

  “This is a brand new world. Tradition is dead, the new god is money. I have money. You don’t.”

  “I’ll have it.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  She laughed at him. “We’ll have this discussion again.”

  “I can buy and sell Jonas Ramsaye without lifting a finger. You’re potential son-in-law lives in a house of cards. I am not going to let you sell my sister.”

  She went pale. “You don’t know her.”

  “She is a Delacroix, that is enough.” He glanced up at the top of the stairs and he saw Lauren, and she had a look of such relief on her face that he gave her an encouraging smile.

  Natalie flung open the front door, but Luc made no move to leave. “Name your price,” he said, “what is my sister’s freedom worth.”

  “Simone is not your sister. She will never be your sister. All you are is an accident of blood.”

  Luc knew that he had to retreat for the moment. He’d won, and a wise victor gave the vanquished mercy. “I’ll be back later in the day.” He stepped out onto the veranda.

  “You have no authority in my house.”

  “You forget, it’s my house.”

  Her face contorted. “I will not allow my husband’s pickininny bastard any quarter. You may look white. You may talk white, but all you are, deep down, is nothing but a darkie. Do you understand me, darkie?”

  He put his hat on. “Perfectly. Good day, Natalie.”

  She recoiled as though slapped. Then slammed the door.

  Luc walked down the steps and turned the corner. He bumped into Callie.

  Her face told him everything. She knew.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luc’s hand spanned her neck and tilted her head back. Looking into her sherry brown eyes, he saw her want for him. The same desire that burned in his belly. “I don’t have the words to tell you how much I want you. Wanted you since I found out you weren’t a boy.”