East of Orleans

by Renee' Irvin

  For two days now, Livie has not left his side, nor has Granny. His fevers are 104 degrees and Dr. Mason has told Livie and Henry that he has done all that he can do. We are all praying, for it is now in the Lord’s hands.

  Your loving Mama

  Several days later, another letter arrived and Isabella prayed it did not contain the news that she somehow knew it contained.

  24, February 1883

  My Dear Isabella,

  As I write this letter, my heart is breaking. It has been a week since we laid little Henry to his final rest. We buried him next to your daddy.

  The funeral was awful, there was so much crying and Henry had to stop Livie from trying to take the baby from his coffin. Livie just stares into space in the daytime and stays wide awake at night. But it is Granny that I am most worried about. Granny coughs all night and it is difficult for her to breathe.

  Do not think of coming home. We know you cannot and now would not be a good time. Stay in Savannah until there is some hope of restoring your name.

  Pray for Livie and Granny. Granny misses you so very much.

  Your loving Mother

  “My dear,” Nell said gently to Isabella, “I am so very sorry.” Even though Isabella did not go home for the next week, she dressed mournfully in black. Nell told Kate about the baby’s death and Kate sent one of her mourning dresses that were small enough for Isabella to wear.

  Spring was coming to Savannah, and the azaleas were in bloom. Isabella could barely move and her stomach seemed as swollen as Red’s belly. At Nell’s insistence, Lettie sent out a midwife to check Isabella. Soon after Isabella’s things were packed in her trunk and Lettie had Jesse bring Isabella out to the plantation to stay until the baby was born. Isabella missed Riverstreet. She longed for Nellie, Mrs. Kate, and Mrs. Kate’s blackberry pies. Twice a week, Kate had faithfully sent a blackberry pie over to Isabella delivered by Jesse. Lettie was not thrilled to have Isabella staying at the plantation house, and Isabella had even overheard Lettie say to Red that Isabella was a bad influence on the darkies. “She’s not working, she lies in bed all day, and she most certainly, is not earning her keep,” Lettie told her husband.

  “Well, what’d you expect, bringing a girl into work that is with child?”

  What did she expect? Are they blind or just ignoring me, thought Isabella.

  Isabella’s midwife turned out to be an old mulatto woman, named Mathilde, who spoke Gullah and practiced voodoo. The day she arrived, Isabella heard a knock on her bedroom door. “Who is it?” Said Isabella, laying her diary on a table next to the bed. She got up, cracked open the door and saw Jesse, who had been asleep in a chair outside the door.

  “You don’t have to sit out there like I’m a corpse and you too scared to come in and look at me,” Isabella scolded.

  Jesse hesitated. “I ain’t scared of a thing. I heard some talk about that old Gullah woman being an African queen; she’s supposed to have some kind of powers. I think that if she got powers, they coming from all that tonic I seen her out back drinking.”

  “I think you been out there yourself. I bet you been about to bust to tell me this. How long you been sitting outside my door?” asked Isabella.

  Jesse glanced at Isabella, and he whispered, “All I saying is, I believe dat woman got some strong powers. But if you don’t want to hear nothing about it---.” Isabella yawned and raised her eyebrows.

  “All right, tell me, Jesse Rucker, what kind of powers that old woman has, that’s got you spooked? Where’d she come from?”

  “Beaufort.”

  “Beaufort? I thought you said she’s an African queen?”

  “I’se didn’t mean she was; dey say her grandmother was.”

  “What’s that got to do with her?”

  “Well, dey say her mama was a yellow concubine--”

  “A concu… what?” Isabella said while gazing at Jesse.

  Jesse glanced down the hallway. “It’s light skin Negro woman used for the pleasure of the white man.” Isabella shook her head.

  A strange old woman with wild, dark eyes that darted back and forth between Isabella and Jesse interrupted the two. Isabella tugged on Jesse’s arm.

  In a harsh dry voice, the woman said, “Lettie sent me to check and see if you will go another month.”

  Isabella’s face flushed, she looked down and raised her eyes to Jesse. She pinched Jesse’s arm and then she broke the silence.”It’s my baby!” Isabella shouted.

  Jesse looked hard at Mathilde and said, “You heard the lady, it’s her baby and you stay away from her til you needed.” Jesse rubbed his chin and stared at her; he then leaned toward Mathilde and whispered, “You ain’t needed now.” Jesse and Isabella watched the old woman with a wide skirt and full pockets that made a jingling sound when she moved leave the hallway.

  “She could wake the dead,” Isabella said. Touched by Jesse’s actions, she looked at him and smiled. “I have been so mean to you, not treated you right. If I were you, I’d run off and leave me. I ain’t done nothing but say mean things to you and give you a hard time. And if you had not of come with me, Lord only knows what would have become of me by now.” Jesse’s eyes shifted away from her and he walked out the door.

  In the early morning hours of April 8, 1883, as light sifted through closed shutters, Elora Grace made her entrance into the world. For most of two days, Isabella lay soaked and sweating in her bed, begging for God to let her die, while Jesse paced nervously up and down the hall. Isabella did not hear the knock on her door as Nell carefully removed the baby from her cradle and carried her over to the door, motioning for Jesse to come inside. Jesse slowly touched the baby’s hand and then moved back as she let out a little cry. He looked at her over and over, but hesitated to touch her again.

  Jesse and Nell heard footsteps in the hall and turned to see a white-haired man with sleeves rolled up to his arms, approaching.

  He entered Isabella’s bedroom and motioned for everyone else to wait outside.

  “Relax dear, I need to check you,” he said to Isabella. “I’m Doctor Chandler.”

  He bent over her as he pressed a firm hand against her abdomen. Isabella screamed. She saw Jesse’s shadow jump outside her bedroom door.

  Dr. Chandler looked at Isabella. “Now relax your knees. You may feel a little discomfort, but I need to be sure that the afterbirth has passed. You have to bend your knees and let them fall apart so I can check you.”

  “What will happen if I don’t let you?” Isabella whimpered, with a frightened look on her face.

  “If you don’t let me and infection sets in, then you could die. You want to die?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Now just relax.”

  Isabella could feel his rough hand move against the skin of her thighs and then she let out a gasp. “Hold on, not much longer, hold your breath and count to ten,” Dr. Chandler said. Suddenly, a pool of blood soaked the bed. Dr. Chandler removed his blood-soaked hand and wiped the blood off with a towel. “When was your baby due?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Dr. Chandler patted Isabella on her thigh and said, “I see. Well, from the looks of her she’s a couple of months early. She’s awful small; four pounds, three ounces.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” asked Isabella.

  “Dr. Chandler bent over and put his instruments into his black bag.

  “Is my baby going to be alright?” Isabella demanded, feeling wet, sticky blood between her legs.

  Dr. Chandler looked up, walked over to the baby, picked her up and smiled sadly.

  “I don’t know.”

  Isabella felt faint. Nell glanced at Isabella and took her hand. “There’s four of us in this house that can care for the baby. You need your rest, and you need to eat.” Isabella saw Jesse shake his head and Dr. Chandler leave the room.

  A little after eight o’clock that evening, Dr. Chandler came back to check on Isabella. She had been cold and shivering for over an hour. Nell
was careful to assure the doctor that Isabella had not left the bed all day, nor had she had a thing to eat.

  Jesse had not left the wingback chair outside of Isabella’s door. He stood up abruptly when Dr. Chandler went into Isabella’s room. Jesse heard the doctor say to Nell that it was now “in the hands of the Lord.” Jesse refused to believe that the baby was going to die; he had seen Nell and Lettie carrying Elora Grace around all day. No, the baby, even though she was tiny, looked fine; she was pink as any white baby that he had ever seen and he knew that was a good sign.

  Nell carried the low light of the gas lamp out of Isabella’s bedroom and walked out into the hall. She saw Lettie and Mathilde coming toward her. The two made a procession into Isabella’s room. Nell went over to Isabella and placed her hand on the girl’s forehead. “She still has fever.”

  Mathilde’s head jerked up and she removed a bottle of yellow liquid from a basket and started chanting. Jesse’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened. Lettie stood with a smile on her face and called out to Laura as she prayed. Nell turned to meet Jesse’s gaze.

  “Who is Laura?” Whispered Jesse.

  “Laura was Lettie’s baby daughter,” Nell said in a low voice.

  Jesse narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know dat Miz Lettie had a young-un, I ne’re seen her.”

  “No, and you won’t.”

  “Why’s dat?”

  “Cause she’s dead, that’s why.” Jesse looked puzzled.

  Mathilde bent over Isabella and put the bottle of yellow liquid to her lips. She whispered for Isabella to drink. Jesse looked at Nell for a response and then he rushed to Isabella’s bedside. He leaned forward to inspect the liquid that Mathilde was urging Isabella to drink.

  “What’s dat?” asked Jesse.

  Mathilde ran her hand through her matted hair and as she leaned over, a multitude of beads and metal crosses clanged together. She looked into Isabella’s weak blue eyes and said, “You’ll get better now.” Mathilde closed the cap on the liquid and put it back in her basket.

  “What dat stuff?” asked Jesse.

  “Yellow root,” she said.

  “Is she supposed to have it?” Jesse asked.

  “White folks don’t think so, but I know so,” Mathilde said, looking into Jesse’s eyes. “Come here, you want to taste it?”

  Jesse shook his head. “Naw, we done got one almost-corpse. Dey ain’t no point in having another.” Jesse stepped closer and looked at Isabella. “We got to get you well and out of here,” he said in a low tone.

  The remainder of the night Nell and Jesse watched and waited. Jesse would walk over to the shutters and look out into the dark. A little after midnight he walked into the hall and carried the winged chair inside the bedroom. Jesse said to Nell, “Here, sit down in dis chair, there ain’t no point in you sitting on the foot of that bed all night.”

  “Poor thing,” Nell whispered. Jesse nodded.

  “Where is dat Miz Laura buried?”

  “She’s buried at Bonaventure.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died at two. Whooping cough.” Nell paused. “That was her only child.”

  “Is dat why she crazy?”

  Nell nodded. “That and Red. Lettie took up with that old conjure woman right after Laura died. That crazy old thing convinced Lettie that she could call Laura up from the grave. There ain’t no telling how much money Lettie gives that voodoo woman.”

  That night Isabella tossed and turned in her sleep. She dreamed about her mama, granny and Tom. She dreamed about the strange color blue that everything in town seemed to be painted. Once, before dawn, she saw her daddy standing next to her bed. He was smiling and holding little Henry. He stepped close to her and gestured for her to come with them. Then he drifted away with a smile on his face.

  “Why are you leaving? Come back, come back!” Isabella screamed as she sat up in bed, her hand extended. Jesse woke up in his chair and looked around. Isabella looked up at Jesse and said, “I’m so thirsty. Will you get me some water?”

  Jesse laid his hand on her temple. “People’s been a-coming and a-going and worrying about you.”

  Isabella’s eyes surveyed the room. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yeah, I seen her,” grinned Jesse.

  Weeks came and went. Reluctantly, Isabella had left Elora to be cared for by Lettie. Lettie was determined to keep Elora until Isabella was stronger; she had even brought an Irish lace baby gown for Elora that had belonged to Laura.

  Isabella was back in her room above the tavern, but was too weak and tired to get up and go down to work. She wondered how much longer she would have to work that job and prayed it would end soon. She did not earn fair wages, especially not enough to support herself and a child. She wondered how some of the Negro women survived, especially the ones who found themselves in a mess like her.

  Isabella thought of Tom, wondering where and how he was. She was almost beginning to cry when Jesse entered the room with a plate of fried fish, sweet potatoes and cornbread. Isabella breathed deep; the food smelled good. Suddenly she was hungry. It was the first time that she felt hungry since she had the baby.

  “Livie tried to pull little Henry from the coffin on the day he was buried,” said Isabella. She was silent for a moment as she stared out the window across the river. She then turned and looked at Jesse. “Were you with me the whole time?”

  Jesse smiled and nodded slightly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “There ain’t nothing for you to thank. Besides, there ain’t nowhere else that I wanted to be and I promised Granny.” Jesse took notice of Isabella’s hollow face and protruding bones.

  “I got another letter from Mama today,” Isabella said. “They’re out of money and Mr. Hartwell is clear about his intentions. He’s gonna do it this time. I’m surprised he’s waited as long as he has.” Isabella stared at Jesse and then turned as tears formed in her eyes. “I have to find a way to get out of this mess.” The two of them looked at each other.

  “What you gonna do?” asked Jesse.

  “I don’t know,” Isabella replied.

  “If you’d let me send for Tom, he would come and take you away from here. Why don’t you let me?” Jesse asked.

  “I guess I’m afraid.”

  Jesse shook his head, got up and walked over to the shuttered window. “You can take the baby and go back home.”

  “No, no, I can’t. There ain’t nothing for me to go back to.”

  “There’s Tom.”

  Isabella sighed an exasperated sigh. “Tom--and what? Jesse, don’t you understand? My mama and granny are about to be thrown off their land. I can’t be worried about myself and Tom. I’ve got to try and help them. I’ve got to save their house. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, I understand, but there ain’t nothing that can be done about it. We tried planting the cotton.”

  Isabella narrowed her eyes. “Cotton? I can’t wait on cotton, I need money now.”

  Jesse nodded sadly.

  “It has to come. I know it ain’t right for me to feel this way but, Jesse, I swear on my daddy’s grave, I’d sell my soul to the devil if that’s what it took to pay off that mortgage. I just hope that by the time I find him, it ain’t too late.”

  It was on a Wednesday, right before the bank closed at noon when Catherine Hartwell made the acquaintance of Tom Slaughter. Catherine knew of Tom when she was growing up, but for the past two years, she had been away at school and the Tom that she knew, was not the man who was standing in her daddy’s bank lobby now.

  Left alone, Tom paced nervously across the bank floor while he waited to see Rollins Hartwell. Tom’s life had changed after Isabella left Shakerag. He did not speak of her, or ask about her… it was as if she was dead, but he could not stop thinking about her.

  Tom looked up and saw Catherine staring at him.

  “Smile, you look so sad. It can’t be that bad,” said Catherine.

  Tom smiled at her. />
  “Maybe I can help you. Who are you waiting on?”

  “Mr. Hartwell.”

  Catherine placed her thin arm on Tom’s shoulder and thought for a moment. “I believe I know you.” Her eyes examined his. “Wait, don’t tell me, Tom Slaughter?”

  Rollins Hartwell walked out into the lobby and looked around for his customer. His eyes shifted to his daughter and the young man that she was talking to. Rollins walked up to Tom, slapped him across the back, grinned and said, “Son, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. There never seems to be enough hours in a day, especially Wednesdays.” As Catherine hugged her father, he noticed the excited look on her face.

  “What brought you by the bank, sweetheart?” asked Rollins. Catherine’s eyes began to twinkle. “Not a thing except for wanting to see my daddy.” She smiled and peeked around at Tom. Rollins glanced at Tom with solemn eyes and then gestured for a Negro man to enter the bank.

  “How ya doin’ Mister Rollins? Miss Catherine, is youse ready to go?”

  Catherine nodded. “In a minute.” She went up to Tom. “Tom Slaughter, my, my, I don’t think I would have known you. Are you living here now?”

  “No, I’m living in Atlanta. Got me a job running the presses at the newspaper and going to school.”

  “What are you going to school to be?” asked Catherine.

  “I want to be a writer. I’m studying journalism.”

  “I think that’s just wonderful.” She glanced at her daddy and smiled. “That’s wonderful, isn’t it, daddy?” Rollins replied with a nod. Catherine turned to Tom again, “It was nice seeing you, Tom.”

  Tom hesitated. “You too, Catherine.” He watched her for a moment as she left the bank with the Hartwell’s Negro driver.