The Unforgiven

by Irina Shapiro

  A woman of about eighty sat by herself, her gnarled hands folded demurely in her lap. She had short iron-gray curls that looked to have been styled just that morning, and wore a cream sheath dress with a pale yellow cardigan thrown over her shoulders. A string of pearls at her throat completed the outfit. She seemed to be staring at nothing in particular, but had a faraway look in her dark eyes and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Quinn felt Seth tense beside her.

  “Mama,” he called softly. “Good morning, Mama.”

  The woman turned to face them and a wide smile lit up her face. Seth breathed a sigh of relief that she recognized him.

  “Seth,” she called, her pleasure at seeing him obvious. “What a lovely surprise. You haven’t been to see me in weeks.”

  “I was here last week, Mama,” Seth reminded her gently.

  “Were you really? I seem to have forgotten. Is that for me?” she asked, eyeing the box greedily.

  “I brought you some chocolate-covered strawberries.”

  “I don’t want strawberries. I want marzipan. You know it’s my favorite,” she said with a pout.

  “I know, but you must watch your sugar intake. The strawberries in dark chocolate have much less than marzipan,” Seth explained patiently.

  “Oh, what difference does it make?” Mrs. Besson snapped. “I’d rather have marzipan than prolong this miserable existence you call life.”

  “Come now, Mama, you’re hardly miserable.”

  “Oh? Would you like to come live here while I go home?”

  Seth ignored the remark and turned to Quinn. “Mama, I brought someone to meet you.”

  “Have you finally gotten yourself a lady friend?” she asked, a wicked twinkle in her eye. “About time, I say.”

  “Mama, this is Quinn Allenby, and she’s not my girlfriend.” Seth looked like he was about to gag on his tongue, and Quinn stifled a smile. It was endearing to see a grown man so afraid of displeasing his mother. “She’s my daughter,” Seth choked out.

  “What’s that?” Mrs. Besson asked, staring at Quinn.

  “Quinn is my daughter. She’s just found me after all these years. I didn’t know she existed,” he added apologetically.

  “Hello, Mrs. Besson,” Quinn said, hoping the old woman wouldn’t ask her to leave. It was still hard to believe this lady was actually her grandmother. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  “Call me Rae, dear.” Mrs. Besson patted the chair next to her. “Come sit down and let me look at you.”

  Quinn sat and allowed Rae a moment to study her closely.

  “She doesn’t look like you, Seth.”

  “No, but DNA doesn’t lie.”

  Rae reached out and put her wrinkled hand over Quinn’s, her eyes lighting up. “A granddaughter. Never thought I’d live to know such joy. And so beautiful. I’ll have some words with your father in private later,” she threw Seth a scathing look, “but I can’t say I’m displeased. Never thought I’d have another grandchild, especially one that’s grown.” Rae continued to gaze at Quinn, a happy smile on her face. “Quinn, that’s an odd name. One of them unisex names that are so popular now, is it?”

  “Yes, it can be a man’s name. I think my mother was hoping for a boy.”

  “And who is your mother, dear?”

  “She’s a girl I met in England, Mama,” Seth cut in.

  “You never told me you had a girlfriend in England.”

  “It didn’t seem important at the time.”

  “Not important?” Rae huffed. “You made a child with her. I’d say that’s important.”

  “My mother never told him about me,” Quinn supplied. “We only just met this week.”

  “Shame Seth missed your childhood. But what a surprise to have a girl,” she mused. “There hasn’t been a Besson girl in centuries. Not a lucky family, the Bessons,” Rae added.

  “In what way?”

  “In the way that matters. One boy in each generation. Just one. Why, I have dozens of cousins. I come from a big family. Three children was the minimum on my side. My sister had six. But the Bessons could barely squeeze out one baby.”

  Quinn bit her tongue before asking why Seth didn’t have any siblings, but Rae anticipated her question. “Oh, we tried, girlie. We tried. I had three miscarriages before Seth and two after. Those babies just wouldn’t take hold. Nowadays they’d have run tests and figured out the problem, but back then, they just told us to go home and hope for better luck next time. Don’t know why this one lived,” she pointed to Seth, “but he did. My one and only precious boy. I wanted a girl so badly. My sister has five daughters, God bless her, and one son. I always said to her, ‘Let me have one, Jinny. Your husband won’t notice. I’ll take good care of her.’” Rae chuckled. “I would have, too. I would have taken one of hers in a heartbeat if she was willing. She was overwhelmed and tired all the time. A baby every year for six years. Imagine that. And then nothing.”

  “Did they stop having sex?” Seth asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  “No, they didn’t. They just weren’t having it with each other,” Rae replied. She patted Quinn’s hand, her thumb caressing Quinn’s engagement ring. “So, you’re getting married. Where is your young man?”

  “He’s at home, in London.”

  “He let you come alone?”

  “I didn’t ask for his permission,” Quinn replied with a smile.

  “No, I don’t suppose you would. Young women are different today. So, do you love him?”

  “Yes, very much. Would you like to see a photo?”

  “Oh, yes,” Rae said, brightening up. “You got one of those smartphones?”

  Quinn pulled out her mobile and found a photograph of Gabe.

  “Handsome devil,” Rae said, nodding in approval. “I always did like the dark ones, like Seth’s daddy. I was blond myself, not that you can see that now,” she said, patting her hair. “I was pretty as a picture.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Quinn replied. She could see the young woman in Rae’s face. She must have been quite striking in her day.

  “And who’s this little princess?” Rae asked, looking at a picture of Emma in her Disney regalia, posing next to Gabe.

  “That’s Emma. She’s Gabe’s daughter.”

  “So he’s divorced, your man?”

  “No, he’s never been married.”

  Rae gave Quinn a look of pure disapproval. “Bit of a tomcat then?”

  “No, he’s not like that,” Quinn replied, defensive on Gabe’s behalf. “Gabe is very loyal, and very romantic.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” Rae gave Quinn a knowing look and allowed her hand to gently brush against Quinn’s stomach. “When’s the wedding?”

  “Next month.”

  “Better sooner rather than later.” Rae nodded.

  “Mama, what are you talking about?” Seth asked, as though oblivious to Rae’s insinuation.

  “Nothing, son. I just like weddings, that’s all. I wish I could be there to see you get married. Never got to see my own girl as a bride. It would be nice to see my granddaughter walk down the aisle.”

  “Do you think you could travel to England?” Quinn asked.

  Rae shook her head. “No, dear. I’m too old to travel across the street, much less to Europe. You’ll have to send me a photograph. I want the old-fashioned kind, the kind I can put in a frame and show to my friends. None of this digital nonsense.”

  “Who will you show it to?” Seth asked, making Rae guffaw with laughter.

  “I still have a few friends who aren’t dead.” Rae turned to Quinn. “Will you come back and see me before you go home? I want to say a proper goodbye.”

  “Of course I’ll come. And it doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

  “Darling, at my age it’s important to say goodbye to those I love. Just in case. I might still be here when you return, but it doesn’t mean my mind will be. It’s going, bit by bit. I just wish I’d forget the difficult parts instead of the happy memorie
s, but we don’t get to choose, do we? I hope I remember you, but if I don’t, I want you to know I’m so glad to have met you. You’ve made an old woman happy today.”

  Quinn nodded in understanding. Rae reminded her a little of the grandmother she’d lost twenty years ago. They had the same wisdom and the same unflinching regard for the truth. Rae was too old for euphemisms, and looked reality in the face, frightened but ready to face the abyss.

  “And you,” Rae said, turning to Seth, “bring me marzipan next time. I have few pleasures left in life. Let me have my sweets.”

  “Mama, I’d like to give Quinn Amelia’s fan,” Seth said as they rose to leave. “I’ve taken it out of the safety deposit box.”

  Rae nodded. “As well you should. Not like you got anyone else to give it to. It’s a lovely thing, Quinn. A piece of our past.”

  “I will treasure it, Rae.”

  “Give it to your own daughter someday. Tell her where her roots were planted.”

  “I will.” Quinn kissed the old woman’s papery cheek in farewell and smiled when Rae whispered into her ear, “This one is a boy, but maybe next time.”

  “Bye, Mama. I’ll see you next week,” Seth promised. He picked up the box of strawberries, but Rae snatched it out of his hand and pulled off the ribbon.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she said as she took a bite of strawberry.

  Quinn followed Seth out to the car. She couldn’t wait to return to her hotel room and hold the fan. She was more than ready to learn its secrets.

  Chapter 6

  August 1858

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Madeline sat perfectly still while Tess carefully removed the paper curlers and arranged Madeline’s hair to her satisfaction. Fidgeting resulted in the dressing process taking longer, and Madeline barely had the patience for the three quarters of an hour it usually took to get her ready to face the day. She was hungry, and looked forward to going downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast was her favorite time of the day, since she always had it with Daddy, who rose from his bed in time to eat with her, regardless of when he’d come in the night before. It had become their ritual to eat together since Mama had died six years before when Madeline was just nine. She sometimes had bad dreams and cried out during the night, so Daddy always joined her for breakfast and tried to cajole her out of her melancholy, often taking her to walk by the river and pointing out the various boats sailing past or unloading goods.

  Once it got closer to noon, Daddy would buy them molasses cakes from the Negro marchandes who walked along the banks of the Mississippi and sold their goods from flat boxes hanging around their necks by a rope. Daddy always brought a blanket so they could sit on the grass while they enjoyed their treat. The cakes were delicious and Madeline licked her fingers when no one was looking, to get the last bit of sweetness before dutifully wiping her hands with a handkerchief. Lately, her governess, Miss Cole, had begun to join them for walks by the river, but in the mornings, she took a tray in her room to allow father and daughter their time together.

  Madeline descended the stairs, enjoying the sound of silk swishing against the damask-papered walls. Her new gown had hoops so wide they brushed the spindles of the banister and the wall along the stairs, making Madeline feel grown up. The silk was a sea-foam green, not one of the bland colors like pale yellow or rose pink that young ladies were expected to wear. The green was quite sophisticated, in Madeline’s opinion, and since this was the first time she had worn the gown, it gave her a little thrill.

  The table was already set for breakfast, so Madeline took her usual seat and spread a napkin in her lap.

  “Coffee, Miss Madeline?” Mammy asked. While Tess helped Madeline dress, Mammy always prepared breakfast and waited in the dining room with a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Madeline hadn’t liked the coffee at first, but her father drank cups of it every morning, so she’d learned to enjoy it and held up her cup for a refill whenever he did.

  “Yes, please, Mammy. Has Daddy been down?” Madeline asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll wait for him, then.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Madeline replaced her napkin on the table and got up to stand by the window. It was open to catch any movement of air, but already the day was oppressively hot and humid. Brilliant sunlight bathed everything in its merciless glare and the fragrance of flowers and sunbaked earth wafted into the dining room. Madeline didn’t much like the brutal heat of August, but it beat the damp, foggy months of autumn and winter when life seemed to slow down and the world outside the door lay blanketed in mist so thick it was hard to even see the boats on the river.

  The clock struck the hour and Madeline started. Daddy was usually down by this time, no matter how late he’d come in the night before. Her stomach growled. She had been feeling unwell last night due to her monthly visitor and hadn’t eaten much at suppertime.

  “Mammy, can I have a beignet while I wait?” she called toward the kitchen.

  “Sho thing, Miss Madeline.”

  Madeline accepted a warm beignet and took a small bite. She felt guilty eating without her father, but she was starving. She’d just pretend she hadn’t eaten by the time he finally made an appearance. She was almost finished with the beignet when there was a knock at the door. It was too early in the morning for anyone to call, and tradesmen usually used the back door when making deliveries, so Madeline remained where she was. She heard Tess’s hurried footsteps as she went to answer the door and then muffled voices, one belonging to a man.

  “Mr. Larson is here to see you, miss,” Tess said as she peeked into the dining room.

  “Did you tell him Daddy is not up yet?”

  “It’s you he wishes to see.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. I’ll see him in the parlor, unless he’d like some breakfast,” Madeline replied. She knew Mr. Larson well. He was her father’s close friend as well as his lawyer. He dined with them often, and had recently introduced them to his future wife, Lucille Heston. She was an attractive widow of middle years, and Madeline had felt instantly drawn to her. She reminded her of her own mother, who’d been kind and sweet-natured, although Corinne Besson had been dark of coloring, like Madeline, while Mrs. Heston was fair and blue-eyed.

  “Good morning, Mr. Larson. I’m afraid Daddy is still abed. Would you care for some breakfast?” Madeline asked. She’d never had to play hostess before, but she liked it. She turned in a way that made the silk of her skirt swish, and smiled with satisfaction.

  “No, thank you, Madeline. Would you be so kind as to ask Miss Cole to join us?”

  Madeline looked at the lawyer in confusion. Why would he wish to see her governess? “Miss Cole is still in her room.”

  “I’m here,” Miss Cole said from the doorway. She looked unusually solemn. Miss Cole had a sunny disposition, especially of late, and always counseled Madeline that charm and good manners were the most valuable currency. She looked at Mr. Larson with apprehension, then took a seat without a word of greeting to either of them.

  “I must speak with you both,” Mr. Larson began.

  Madeline sat down and spread her skirts, showing off yards of green silk to its best advantage. She wished she had a fan, since she was perspiring, but it was up in her room and it would be rude to keep Mr. Larson waiting.

  “What can we do for you, Mr. Larson?” Madeline asked, imitating the tone of a great lady.

  “Madeline, I have some rather awful news. Your father attended a card game last night, where he suffered heavy losses.”

  “Is Daddy in debt?” she asked. She didn’t fully understand what being in debt entailed, but she knew it was something to be avoided.

  “I’ll get to that,” Mr. Larson replied softly. “He’d been drinking heavily and was quite inebriated by the time he left the game.”

  Madeline ignored the look of shock on Miss Cole’s face. Daddy liked his drink, but he rarely went overboard. “Well, that explains
why he’s still sleeping. Doesn’t it?”

  “In his confused state, your father stepped in front of an oncoming carriage. He was badly hurt.” Madeline opened her mouth to reply, but Mr. Larson cut her off. “Madeline, he died of his injuries an hour ago. I was with him till the last. I’m so sorry.”

  Madeline felt as if a horse had just kicked her in the stomach. All breath was driven from her body, leaving her gasping for air and shaking with shock. Her father was dead. He’d stepped in front of a carriage because he was drunk. Both her parents were now dead and she was completely alone in the world, with no one but Mr. Larson to turn to for advice.

  Miss Cole’s hand flew to her mouth and she let out a strangled moan. Her blue eyes filled with tears, and her face turned the color of curdled milk.

  “Miss Cole, I asked you to be here because I know what you and Charles meant to each other,” Mr. Larson said. “I thought it best you hear it from me.”

  Miss Cole nodded woodenly as tears spilled down her cheeks. She wrung her hands in her lap and sniffled, until Mr. Larson handed her his handkerchief, which she instantly used to wipe her streaming eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Madeline asked, looking from Mr. Larson to Miss Cole. She had no idea what he was referring to, but that wasn’t her immediate concern. “Wh-what will become of me?” she stammered. “Am I to come live with you, Mr. Larson?”

  “No, my dear. Your father drew up a will after your mother passed. He left very specific instructions for your care should anything happen to him before you were of age or married.”

  “What kind of instructions?” Madeline felt as if she were floating on a thick mist, all sounds muffled by the moisture, and familiar objects seemed shrouded in shadow. She no longer saw the sunlight or felt the heat. Instead she felt cold and numb, and absolutely terrified. She might have expected some measure of support from Miss Cole, but she seemed lost in her own misery, rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her middle.