His steps away from her were painful, but threaded with promise. In the heat of the moment, he’d almost forgotten where the true power was. With God. If God brought them together, then God would resolve the rest of it. He had to lean on Him and believe that, regardless of the circumstances.
The sun on the water promised to make the ride to the mainland far different from the one twenty-four hours ago. He removed his jacket and tossed it over his arm. Stepping in, he took the same seat he’d held before. Osiris took his position and cranked the old boat, then backed away from the shore.
It all receded, the swamp, the house, and the memories he hadn’t had until coming here. He curled his hands into his palms and whispered a prayer for Cerise.
And a new idea came to him. Staring at the back of Osiris, who skillfully navigated the craft, he cleared his throat.
“My good man,” he said. “If I might ask a question.”
Osiris glanced behind. “Of course, Mr. Garner.”
“You’ve been with the Delacroixs how long?”
“Nigh on seventy years, suh. I grew up there on my mama’s knee.”
Andre loosened his fist. “We have a long ride ahead of us. How about you start at the beginning and tell me exactly what you remember.”
Osiris smiled for the first time and a twinkle came in his eye. “Well, suh, that’s an interesting tale …”
***
“Where have you been? And what have you done to your hair?”
Cerise lifted her chin and returned her grandmother’s steel-eyed stare. Sweeping in the front door, she crossed the foyer, leaving her standing there perplexed. “I went outdoors,” she said. “It has been raining for hours, after all. I felt cooped up and needed some air.” That seemed self-explanatory.
Andre’s kiss replayed itself on her lips, and she savored the feeling, her eyes closing. She set the memory aside. Later, she’d deal with that later.
“As for my hair, I can style it as I wish.”
“Like a strumpet,” her grandmother said.
Cerise whirled. “A strumpet. A Jezebel. A hussy. Call me whatever you wish, but I’m through kowtowing to you.”
“It’s that man,” her grandmother snapped. “I should never have brought him here.”
“But you did. Didn’t you? Only it didn’t go as you had it planned. He was stronger, better, than his father. What did you think would happen? He’d run away, his tail tucked between his legs? You’d have liked that. No, maybe you thought he’d get angry, enraged, and blow up. Then you could tell him he was no different than his dad had been.”
Her grandmother’s hand flew outward, but Cerise caught it halfway. “No. I’m not her. I love my mother, but I won’t be beaten.”
“Not beaten. Disciplined.” Her grandmother tried to regain her dignity.
But Cerise’s vision of her had changed, and Andre had given her that. He’d exposed their past for what it was, old news.
“Beaten,” Cerise reiterated. “You’re no better than your son who beat his wife.”
“A whore who got what she deserved.”
Cerise’s eyes widened.
“That’s right. I saw her by the pool half-clothed. She was waiting for that … that man. I saw her and I went and got your father. I told him to go down there. If he wanted her so bad, he should make his move. And he would have but Levi Garner showed up. What they would have done together if my boy hadn’t walked in on them.” Her grandmother strolled past her into the parlor and stopped before the portrait of Delbert Delacroix the Third.
“I didn’t know he would beat her later though.” Her tone changed. “I pleaded with him to stop.” She exhaled. Her voice sharpened again. “But all she talked about was him, as if Delbert wasn’t good enough. Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore.”
“Sh-she didn’t deserve to be raped,” Cerise whispered. The thought hung in her head. Did her grandmother really believe that?
Her grandmother flicked her wrist. “Rape is such a harsh word. It ended badly for her, and I regret that. But it ended well for myself.”
“For you?” Cerise circled her grandmother, coming to a stop facing her. “What are you talking about?”
Her grandmother met her gaze. “Your grandfather was suave and debonair when I met him, charming. He made promises to me, promises he kept for the most part. He put me in social circles, gave me status in the community.”
“And that mattered to you?”
Her grandmother shrugged. “It mattered to my mother who was ecstatic with the match.”
“But?”
“But one night he scared me witless, and I decided to call it off. We were alone in the west wing,” she said. “I told him I didn’t think I could go through with it, and he exploded. Next thing I know I wake up in his bed and have no choice in the matter, the shame was too great.”
Cerise’s legs gave way and she sank into an armchair, the thick brocade upholstery giving a whoosh beneath her. “That’s … awful, but you should have understood,” she said, raising her gaze. “After what you suffered.”
Her grandmother’s lips pressed tight, the skin around them pale. “I understood the horror of carrying a child you didn’t want, a child I grew to love. A boy, a man, who was everything to me, and then your grandfather took him away.”
Cerise dropped her head into her hands. “It’s too much,” she said. “All of this. I can’t … I just can’t …”
“You are a Delacroix. You can do anything you want. I did. I ended it all.”
Cerise froze in place, her own breathing loud in her ears. “What do you mean?” She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know. This story couldn’t possibly get more horrible than it already was. Her grandmother was raped. Her mother was raped. And she was as much the product of it as her father was.
“Your grandfather’s death,” her grandmother said, calmly. “I pushed him down the stairs.”
CHAPTER 7
Osiris’ grasp was firm and warm. He had a rich history on the island, stories going back generations to the time of the Civil War, but what he’d shared of the Delacroixs had opened Andre’s eyes to the truth. He’d refused to speak against the old woman, held a fondness for her even, yet still had said enough that lines could be drawn to depict exactly what had happened years ago. Sobering.
“Look after her,” Andre said, his feet firmly on the dock. A seagull cried raucous overhead.
Osiris tipped his hat with two fingers of his right hand. “That I will, Mr. Garner. She’s safe with me.”
Andre didn’t doubt that. Osiris was a good sort. But staring out across the water, where Cerise was and where he now stood seemed every bit of the distance it actually was.
“Don’t you worry, suh.”
With another nod, he backed the boat away, beginning the long return trek.
Andre stood there until it was but a dot on the horizon, then he swiveled his heels and headed for his car. The interior smelled like sun-warmed plastic and leather, pleasurable scents after fussy antiques. Extracting his car keys, he cranked the engine and switched on the radio. Some nameless pop song blared from the speakers, mid-tune. He tapped his fingers to the beat, unthinking and left the lot.
Turning onto the highway, he headed for home. His cell phone took up a persistent buzz, a day’s worth of messages downloading. At the next red light, he flipped through the texts and paused on one labeled mom. His mom never texted, so the fact she’d bothered meant she was worried. He dialed her number and put the phone to his ear.
“Andre? Where have you been?”
The light turned green and he tapped the gas. “Hey, Mom. Business trip.”
“That didn’t allow you to use your phone?”
“No signal.”
A driver in a black truck sporting off-road tires cut in front of him. Scowling, Andre slowed. He hadn’t missed the traffic.
“Oh, well, you’re back then?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for worrying you. It took longer th
an I expected.” Much longer. “Did you need something?”
She fumbled with the phone, the rustling noises ringing in his ear. “Actually, yes. I have set you up on a date.”
“A date?”
Distracted by her statement, he missed his turn. He withheld the epithet resting on his tongue and inhaling deep, swerved into the right-hand lane. “Hang on, Mom,” he said. Dropping the phone in his lap, he concentrated on his driving long enough to pull into a shopping center. He slid into an empty space at the end of a long row.
“Mom?”
“Yes? You okay, dear?”
“Fine. I had to stop somewhere for a second. Listen, what did you mean, a date?”
She laughed. He’d dated plenty of times, no one seriously, and flirted his share, but after last night, wasn’t interested.
“Relax,” she crooned. “She’s a lovely girl, daughter of a friend, and she has no idea who you are.”
That was a plus. He’d fussed about girls trying to “pick him up” because of the recent news stories. But that didn’t change things. “Mom, I don’t want to date anyone,” he said.
“Now, why would you say that? You haven’t met anyone in the last couple days, have you?” She meant it as a joke, as evidenced by her tone, but his lack of response changed her voice. “Have you?”
He ran a hand over his head. “Yes. I met someone.”
Someone incredible who’d left an indelible impression on his memory. Someone he’d wait forever to see again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She was upset now. She hated to be left out of things in his life, and after all he’d learned of his father, he understood that at last.
“Mom? Can I ask you a question about Dad?”
The phone buzzed loud in his ear, behind it the faint swish of her breathing. She coughed twice. “I don’t know what I can tell you,” she replied.
“You can tell me if he loved you.”
“Honestly, son, this isn’t something …”
“I have to know.” He interrupted her. “Did he love you?”
She exhaled. “Yes. He was a very kind man.”
“Then why did he take off?”
“There are things you don’t understand,” she said.
But he did understand, way more than she was aware of.
“Why did he leave?” He pressured her and could imagine she was squirming. But he wanted to know her answer. What had happened between them to send him away?
“You’re so much like him,” she said.
He blew out a loud breath. She was avoiding the answer now, another familiar technique. So he’d play along. “How?” He leaned his head back on the seat. “And don’t say my looks because I know that already.”
“Compassionate like he was. Thoughtful. Generous.” She quieted.
“And how am I not like him?”
Her silence told him she was thinking, or uncomfortable. “You’re more resolute and strong-minded than he was. He carried around a lot of things in him. That’s really all it was. I couldn’t help him set those aside, and he couldn’t let them go.”
The swoosh and roar of passing traffic filled the car interior. Andre stared mindlessly through the windshield, one last question pecking at him. But not one he wanted to ask like this, and not here.
“I need to see you,” he said.
“Okay, I have to run a couple errands, but I’ll be back around three.”
“I’ll be there,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. See you at three.”
Hanging up the call, he laid the phone in the passenger seat. For a moment, he didn’t move, barely took a breath. Then he cranked the car and shifted into drive.
***
Her grandmother’s announcement once spoken and allowed to wane held surprisingly less power than Cerise thought it would. She’d been shocked, was still shocked, but as Andre had told her time and time again, all that was in the past. So what was the purpose in doing anything about it now? Her grandmother was ill and growing steadily worse. Before too long, she wouldn’t remember anything, much less something so terrible, and everyone associated with it was gone – everyone but her mother.
She speculated about that. If her mother was having a good day, what would she remember of that time? After her father’s death, her mom had stayed on the island, believing it was what she should do. At least, that’s what she’d said in her lucid moments. But what was the truth? Was it more that her grandmother’s iron will had kept her there? If that was so, then why had they ever left? What had happened to return them to the mainland? She couldn’t ask her grandmother, but there was one person who might know – Yolanda.
Cerise searched the house and found her in the most expected place, the kitchen. The kitchen was large, but it had to be to feed so many people in its glory days. Now, it was too much for the five of them, costly to heat, impossible to clean. She felt for Yolanda who worked hard and received little thanks.
Yolanda looked up from the roast stretched out in a pan before her and her forehead wrinkled. “Miss Cerise,” she said in her easy-going voice. “You okay?”
You okay because he’s gone? That’s what she wanted to know, but she’d never ask it. Yolanda came from a time when the hired help whispered about the folks in the main house, but wouldn’t think of speaking openly.
“I’m fine. I have some thoughts in my head, things I don’t want to ask Grandmother.”
“Well, now, I kin try to help you, but you know the rule.”
Cerise dipped her chin. Yes, the rule that said Yolanda wouldn’t speak against her grandmother, but this wouldn’t require that. “Why’d my mom leave?”
Yolanda flipped the roast over with one hand and reached for a bottle of spice. The pungent odor of rosemary filled the room. “Her folks took the both of you in.”
That had been her guess, but it didn’t answer why no one had stopped her from going.
“Was she … sick?”
Yolanda paused in her work and her eyes softened. “She never did get over her grief. She got steadily worse and by then was struggling. I ‘spect you know why.”
Cerise acknowledged this with a slight head nod.
“An’ it was better for her to be with people who could care for her proper.”
By that she meant her grandmother didn’t want to do it. Did she not want her granddaughter’s care either?
“Her folks said to bring you along,” Yolanda continued. “Wasn’t nothin’ your granny could do about that.”
So it was a legal issue. But they’d sent her here for the summer when she was eight, so they must have reached some agreement.
Cerise searched her childhood memories. She’d thought this was the best place ever, so many rooms, so many places to play hide-and-seek. Her grandmother had been great fun. They’d dressed up in fancy clothes and had garden parties together.
“She missed you once you wuz gone. We all did. House was powerful quiet.”
Cerise came up behind Yolanda and hugged her.
Yolanda chuckled. “Well, now, that is sweet.”
Cerise straightened. “Yolanda, what will you do once Grandmother’s too sick? There won’t be any need to take care of all this.”
Past someone to clean it occasionally, most of it could be closed down. All but a handful of spots and the glass room itself.
“Why, Osiris and me, we’s fixtures here. This is all we know, so I reckon we’ll stay. And your granny, she’s dear to us. So just don’t you worry. Where evah your heart takes you is fine.” She gave a wink.
With that she went back to her cooking. Cerise left the room and wandered down the hall toward the library. Andre had said to read the Bible every day, the book of John, and today was as good a time as any to start.
She entered the room and inhaled the heavy fragrance of aged paper and leather bindings. The gold-embossed pages winked in the light filtering past the velvet drapes. Circling the desk sitting against the right-han
d wall, she seated herself and leaned back.
Her grandfather’s room where he’d pay bills and write correspondence. The ink pen standing vertical at the desk’s center stood almost as a flag to the passage of time. She reached for it and popped it out of its base. Delacroix was written on the side.
“Even the pens were his,” she said.
He’d raped her grandmother. Why? The family’s tendency toward mental illness? Or was it simple male pride? Had he thought so much of himself that even a helpless female was to do as he wished?
The Bible. She returned the pen to the holder and banished the incessant pondering thoughts. Pulling the worn tome from the shelf, she flipped through its pages until the book of John lay before her. Her finger resting on the top of the page, she slid it right and started to read.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
***
His mother’s condo overlooked the very water he’d sailed across only hours before, but her view was toward the opposite direction. In the distance, the line of the city rose and fell, so much concrete and glass decoration for the shoreline. Closer in, the shapes took on a definite form, buildings adorned with flashy signs, a myriad of parked automobiles, oblong swimming pools, and the ever-present people, scurrying around like ants.
Andre crammed his hands in his pockets and waited until she’d emerged from the bedroom to turn around. She was wearing tan slacks and a lightweight button-up blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes lit at the sight of him and one soft palm came to rest on his arm.
“You look handsome,” she said, kissing his cheek. “So tell me, who is she?”
He offered a half-hearted smile. Once again, she avoided the issue, his reason for being here. But he’d prepared for that, thinking he’d give her time to warm up before broaching the subject which bothered him.
“Her name is Cerise.” He paused, withholding the last name.
“That’s lovely. Where’d you meet her, and exactly what did she do that snagged my son?”
His smile became heartier then. “She was at a place I’m doing a job.” This was true, though cloaked. “As to what she did, nothing really. We had a connection.”
Glass Page 7
