The Devil in Canaan Parish

by Jackie Shemwell

  “Melee, I’m so sorry,” I broke the silence, “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” She didn’t answer.

  “Would you like for me to take you home? I mean, back to your father’s house?”

  Her eyes darted at me quickly, full of shock and fear. Her face suddenly crumpled up, and she began to cry.

  “You don’t want me anymore?” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant!”

  I turned my body toward her, my hands shaking, I rested my arm on the back of the seat and inched closer to her. She glanced at me, agony in her face.

  “Please don’t send me back dere. I can’t go back. I can never go back!” she pleaded.

  “You don’t have to! You don’t ever have to. Melee, I promise you, I will never let anything hurt you again.” My hand moved toward her and slowly, softly rested on her back.

  With a heavy sigh, she leaned toward me, and I closed the space between us, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her toward me. She didn’t resist. Instead, she buried her face into my chest, soaking my shirt with her tears. I held her close to me for a long while, stroking her back and running my fingertips through her black hair. I could smell her hair – feel its silky smoothness. I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.

  She looked up at me, and I pulled back, worried that I had gone too far, but her eyes were soft, a tear clinging to the end of her long lashes. She seemed to be waiting for me. I gently placed my hands on the sides of her face, brushing the tears away with my thumbs. She sighed, and leaning her head back, closed her eyes – and then my lips were on hers.

  She didn’t pull away. Her lips responded to mine, pulling me into her. I felt her wrapping her arms around my neck, her mouth opening to the pressure of my tongue. I gave in to my hunger for her, kissing her mouth, the edge of her jaw, her neck. Her breath came in soft gasps and she twined her fingers into my hair.

  At the sound of a car coming down the road, she pushed me away and scooted back over the seat. I turned and gripped the steering wheel, willing my breath to calm down, trying to clear my head of the rush of blood. For a moment I was blinded, as if I’d stared at the sun too long.

  I looked in my side mirror and saw a truck moving toward us. It slowed down as it neared my car and came to a stop at the edge of a road. An old man in a straw hat leaned across his passenger seat and shouted to us through the open window.

  “You folks alright?” he asked, eyeing me, and then glancing across me at Melee.

  “Yes,” I smiled. “Just fine, thank you.”

  “Something wrong with your car?” he persisted, “I got some tools in the back here if you need some help.”

  “Oh no, it’s fine. I uh, I just wanted to check the radiator. It’s a hot day.” I smiled again, popped the hood, and stepped out of the car, acting out the charade for the man.

  He watched me lift the hood and poke around at the radiator cap.

  “You’ll want to use a rag on that,” he advised, “it’s bound to be hot.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I answered, pulling my handkerchief out of my pocket.

  The man did not leave until I had pulled the cap off the radiator and assured him all was well.

  “Alright then,” he threw his gear shift into drive and revved the truck’s engine, “you have a pleasant day, sir,” he nodded in my direction, and then turned to Melee, “you too ma’am.”

  “Thank you!” I waved, then closed the hood as he drove away.

  I pulled myself back behind the wheel, and tried to smile at Melee. “Guess we’d better head home.” She nodded, but didn’t answer.

  I drove the speed limit back to the house, trying to focus on the road, though my eyes kept glancing toward Melee. She was leaning out the window, her hair whipping against her face so that I couldn’t see it. I wondered again if I had gone too far and if I should say anything. When we got back to the house, Melee ran inside. I followed her, but she had already disappeared upstairs. I then remembered Sally and trudged toward our bedroom.

  She was sitting at her vanity, putting make up on her face. She had already re-done her eyes. There was no trace of the mascara on her cheeks, but there was a shiny red mark where I had slapped her. The thought of it made me shudder. I watched as she covered it with foundation and then dusted her face with powder.

  “Sally,” I began, waiting for her to turn to me. She ignored me, and picked up her hairbrush.

  “Sally, look at me,” I said louder. Her back stiffened at the tone of my voice, and she turned around. Her eyes were narrowed and her chin raised defiantly. Her lips were drawn in a tight line across her face. I was sure that she expected an apology. The thought made my anger swell again into my throat.

  “Sally,” I said again, trying to keep my rage controlled. “Your attempts to remove Melee from this house have failed.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise for a second, but she quickly recovered.

  “Melee did not steal that necklace from Meyer’s. Ira Meyer himself verified that it was not the same necklace.” I paused for a moment, letting that sink in.

  “Now that you’ve gotten your little tantrum out of your system, let me make something clear,” I continued, my voice hard. “You are never to question me again. You are never to defy me or embarrass me in front of your family.”

  She rolled her eyes and attempted to turn back toward the mirror, raising her brush up to her hair. In two short steps I was behind her. I jerked the brush out of her hand, threw it against the wall, and yanked her shoulders around to look at me. Terror welled up into her face again, and she shrank back into her chair.

  “Sally, if you ever do, I will divorce you. Do you hear me? I will divorce you. I don’t care about your family’s money. I don’t give a damn about what folks will say. I’m disgusted that I let myself be a slave to you and your father all these years, and for what? Because I felt guilty? Because I felt sorry for you? It certainly wasn’t because I loved you.”

  Her lips quivered and I could see the tears filling her eyes again.

  “You are a spoiled little girl who has grown up into a selfish and petty shrew. If you want to spend your days as a shriveled up old spinster, that’s fine by me, you can leave now and going crying back to your daddy, but all the money in the world won’t find you another man, Sally. You’ll spend the rest of you life a lonely divorcee, living off the charity of your parents. Your friends will pity you, but they’ll also be suspicious of you, wondering if they can trust their husbands around you.”

  She was crying now, the truth of my words sinking in.

  “Bram, please,” she whispered, her hands reaching toward me in supplication. I pushed them away.

  “I have never asked you for anything Sally -- nothing for myself. But this time you will give me what I want, and I want Melee. I want her more than anyone or anything, do you understand? You will let me have her, and you will keep your mouth shut and that fake smile on your face for as long as I tell you to, or you can pack your things and get the hell out.”

  She nodded, covering her face with her hands and sobbing. She knew I was right. She couldn’t bear the public shame if I rejected her. She would rather stay with me under these cruel circumstances than face a lifetime of disgrace.

  I had won. Finally and unequivocally, I had won.

  Chapter Eleven

  I did not go in to the store that day, nor the next. I called Sally’s father and told him that Sally was ill, and that I would be staying home to care for her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Did you call Doc Collins?”

  “No Charlie, I don’t think that would help her.”

  “Why not? What’s going on?” I could hear the impatience in his voice.

  “Charlie I’d rather not go into it, but Sally’s been feeling. . .melancholy about some things lately. I think it would do her good to get away from here for a day. I’m thinking of taking her on a
drive to Lafayette tomorrow, maybe let her do some shopping or see a picture show. I think she’ll feel better with a change of scenery.”

  “I see,” he mumbled, his tone getting softer, “well, uh, please tell her I hope she feels better, and to call us if she needs anything.”

  “Mmm hmm, will do,” I responded.

  “I guess I’ll see you Wednesday?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, bright and early.” I hung up the phone.

  The ruse I had created wasn’t so far from the truth. Sally was immediately stricken with a migraine and took to her bed for the next three days. I spent my time in Melee’s room. That first afternoon, I waited in the kitchen for her, trying to give her some time to recover from the frightening events of the morning. I was giddy. Disbelieving what I had done, and amazed at how easy it had been to conquer Sally. I wondered why I hadn’t done it before. There was only one thing missing to secure my happiness, and that was Melee. Would she still want me? Did she regret what had happened in my car that morning?

  I finally could wait no longer, and climbed the stairs to the garconniere, my heart beating faster with every step. Her door was shut. I shuffled quietly through the maze of junk in the attic, and knocked softly. There was no answer. I knocked again and waited. There was no sound from within. After what seemed like an eternity, I tried the door knob, it was not locked so I pushed the door open and let myself in.

  Melee was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to me, staring out the window. She did not stir when I came in. She seemed to still be in the same trance as she was when she left Meyer’s store.

  “Melee?” I whispered, hoping that she wouldn’t mind my presence. She still did not move, and so I carefully made my way around the bed. I hesitated for a moment, and then reached out to touch her shoulder.

  She suddenly came to life, turning toward me she clutched my hand in hers and kissed it. The feel of her lips on my flesh made my knees buckle. I pulled her up and wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. My lips travelled down until I found her mouth and then I was kissing her hungrily, feeling her body pressed tightly against me. I gently lowered her to the bed and raised my head to look at her. She still did not speak, but she looked into my eyes. There was longing and trust in them. I did not know how I could possibly deserve this, but I didn’t care. She was so young, so very young, and yet she had a knowing about her, an old soul. Instead of the shy fumbling of a school girl, she met my desire in equal measure, pulling me into her, seeming to need me as much as I needed her and never seeming to get enough.

  Those first days passed in a blur. I was surprised when Wednesday finally dawned, although I did not rush to get to the store. I spent the next few weeks and months living life as I pleased. I came and went at the store as I wanted. Bordelon attempted to reprimand me for my casualness at first, but I scoffed at him.

  “You can fire me if you want, Charlie, but where would that leave dear Sally?” I laughed.

  He glared at me, but seemed to know I was right. I would need to at least have the appearance of working for a living for Sally’s sake. It would be humiliating for her to be seen with a shiftless husband.

  I found that keeping up with appearances was an effective weapon against nearly everyone in Sally’s circle. We continued to be seen at parties and functions, and Sally’s persona did not alter. She was still the aging debutante, smiling her way around the room, her silvery laughter tinkling in the air. I began to enjoy these events, no longer feeling a need to impress anyone. When I was ready to leave, Sally would follow me like an obedient puppy, and no one even raised an eyebrow.

  At home, Sally would disappear into our bedroom with a bottle of bourbon or vodka and a fist full of pills. She slept through her days, only stopping occasionally to eat the food that Melee brought to her on a tray. Despite Sally’s resentment, Melee was respectful and kind. I adored her selflessness, so different from Sally, so beautiful to see.

  My nights were filled with Melee. It seemed there were never enough hours to satisfy my need for her. Sometimes late into the night when she fell asleep on my chest, I would hold her, wondering how this strange, magical creature came into my life. Although we had spent countless hours together, I still did not really know her. When I tried to ask her, she would only smile at me, putting a finger on my lips and then kissing me. It was enough to distract me again, and I would forget my questions, her face filling my mind and crowding out all other thoughts. Still, I could not help but marvel at it all. Why would she choose me? What could possibly have been in her past that would make a future with me so appealing to her?

  These thoughts wandered through my head every moment that I was away from her. I couldn’t help but fear that one day she simply would not be there when I returned home, having vanished as mysteriously as she had appeared. I was puzzling over this one day at the store, wiping down the lunch counter, listening to the usual banter of the customers. I was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

  “Mr. Bram,” I glanced up to see Annie Johnson standing across the counter from me.

  “Ah, Annie, how are you?” I was surprised. She was nearly always at the Blanchard’s house during the day.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Bram,” I noticed she was holding her hand up to her face in a strange way.

  “Are you sure everything’s alright?” I asked.

  “Yes sir. It’s Ms. Peg, she sent me her to get her some antacid. She’s got heartburn something powerful.”

  I nodded. Peg was due to deliver any day. She had not been seen in public for the past month, waiting for the baby to arrive.

  “Well, sure,” I smiled. “I guess that means the baby will be a boy, right?” I asked.

  “Mmm hmm, that’s right, sir.” She answered, distracted. I went and got the antacid for her. When I returned, I stopped in my tracks. Her arm was at her side and I saw that she had an enormous black eye.

  “My God, Annie!” I exclaimed. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothin’ sir, nothin’ at all.” She held her hands out for the bottle of medicine, ducking her head down and away from my gaze.

  “Can you put this on the Blanchard’s credit?”

  “Yes, certainly,” I answered, still stunned by the sight of her swollen eye. I noticed that there was also a crusted scab on her lip, as though she had been hit there too, and a slight bruising on her neck.

  “Thank you sir,” she murmured, and then quickly left.

  I returned to the lunch counter feeling anxious and confused. For the first time ever I was actually glad to see Blanchard and Sheriff Boyle come in at their usual time. I had not really spoken to them since Melee’s arrest and that had been more than two months ago. There were of course, the awkward times when Sally and I were thrown together with Peg and Junior at various parties and the weekly bridge game, but I took advantage of the fact that Blanchard rarely had occasion to speak to me and enjoyed the silence.

  This was why Blanchard was so shocked when I confronted him soon after he took his seat.

  “What’s happened to Annie?” I demanded.

  He eyed me up, suspicious as usual. I saw Boyle’s jaw muscles flex.

  “Well now Bram,” he began, sarcasm oozing from his voice, “worried about the domestic help again, I see.”

  “Come on, Junior,” I grumbled, “you know I wouldn’t speak to you unless it were absolutely necessary. What’s happened to her?”

  Blanchard took a long sip of his lemonade, licked his upper lip, and then shot a quick glance at Boyle.

  “Sheriff, I guess you’d better explain this one.”

  Boyle shifted uncomfortably on his stool. He leaned forward and motioned me to come closer to him.

  “Annie’s husband, Vernon, has been lurking around lately. I guess he must’ve messed her up a few nights ago. Annie won’t talk about it, but it seems that’s what’s going on.” Boyle pushed himself back into his chair and then crammed
a large bite of sandwich into his mouth.

  “It’s a shame,” sighed Blanchard, shaking his head, “Peg was pretty upset by it. Last thing we want is to have some crazy nigger loitering around our house, but it seems like that’s a possibility. He followed Annie home the other night.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Followed her home?”

  “Yep, beat her up and left her on the side of the road,” Blanchard shook his head.

  “Jesus.” I mumbled, stunned.

  I turned to Boyle who was shoving another enormous bite into his mouth.

  “Are you going to do anything about this?” I asked.

  “Do?” he choked out, his mouth full of sandwich.

  “Yeah, DO,” I hissed, “you know, serve and protect and all that.”

  “Good God, Palmer, you have a heightened sense of morality, don’t you?” laughed Blanchard.

  “I do my best to stay out of the coloreds’ affairs.” Boyle added. “But, since Annie works for the Blanchards and they don’t want Vernon Johnson coming around their place, I’ve been picking her up after work and driving her home, you know, just to make sure.”

  “And it’s awful kind of you,” said Blanchard, “you know if it was up to me, I’d just let Annie go, but Peg wouldn’t have it. Course, I know better than to get involved with that kind of thing,” he smirked and shot a knowing glance at the Sheriff. I saw a slight smile forming at the corners of Boyle’s mouth. I knew from this remark that the two of them still thought my keeping Melee around was a tremendous joke.

  “Well, that is decent of you,” I admitted to Boyle.

  “Uh, yeah, all the same, Palmer, be on the lookout for him, got it? I mean, I think he’s wandering around here, and if that’s the case, we all had better be careful. No telling what he might do, you know.” Boyle sat back and began picking his teeth with the nail on his pinky finger. I nodded and then went back to wiping down the counter.