by Renee' Irvin
Isabella stopped at the end of Bay Street. “Who you know here?” asked Jesse. “Never mind.” He added as he saw Jules McGinnis sitting behind a large oak desk inside the warehouse. Isabella heard the click of coins and saw Jules counting money that was spread out on his desk. Out of breath, Isabella ran inside the warehouse, slid across the waxed floor, leaned over Jules’s desk and said, “I need your buggy; can we borrow it for a little while?” Jules took the cigar from his mouth and looked curiously at Isabella and Jesse. He removed his glasses and said, “Sure you can. What’s the problem?”
“Never mind, I ain’t got enough time to tell you,” said Isabella in a hysterical tone.
Jules stood up, walked around the desk and put his arms around Isabella. “Look here, little lady, if you’ve got a problem I want to help you.” Isabella’s eyes blazed. Jules realized what he said, smiled a slow smile, and said, “Sorry ‘bout that. Can I take you somewhere?”
“Do you know how to get to Lettie McGillvrary’s place?” Asked Isabella.
“Red McGillivrary’s plantation, the one out near the cemetery?”
“Dat’s the one,” Jesse said. “Miz Lettie done come and took Miss Elora and today is Miss Laura’s birthday and Miz Kate she say dat Miz Lettie is as crazy as Alice Riley.”
“I see,” said Jules. He turned, put on his hat and gathered up the money. “Come on, let’s go.” Jesse watched Isabella glance at the money.
“Jesse, Red’s place is out Skid-a-way, isn’t it?” he asked as he ushered Isabella into his buggy. Jesse jumped in behind her.
“Yes sir, Mister Jules, I know dat’s right.”
Jules crossed over a creek bed and he was going so fast that he almost caused the buggy to turn over. He slowed when he came to the beginning of the long drive that led to Lettie’s place. The three of them saw thick black smoke clouds up ahead in the sky.
“The place is on fire!” Isabella screamed in horror.
Jules drove the buggy faster until he came to the front of the house. Lettie stood on the front porch with Elora in her arms. The baby was wearing one of Laura’s dresses.
“By God, she’s mad as a hatter,” whispered Jules.
He jumped out of the buggy, removed his coat and threw it over his head. Lettie saw Jules and she was glancing nervously in his direction. She held the baby close to her and started to run. Isabella yelled, “No!”
When Jules reached Lettie, she began screaming and pointed her finger in his face. Jules tried to wrench the baby out of Lettie’s arms. Isabella screamed hysterically. She and Jesse saw Jules grab the baby a second before Lettie disappeared into the flames, her dress on fire. Jules placed his hand over the crying baby’s eyes and ran from the house.
In shock, Isabella took Elora from Jules as he gently handed the baby to her. He was covered in black soot. In the smoke- filled distance, Jules, Jesse and Isabella saw two figures running through the burning house. It was Red and Lettie. Jesse looked up and saw Mathilde at the side of the burning house. She cried out, “Lettie! Laura!” Then she disappeared into the cloud of smoke. Chills ran up Isabella’s spine.
Isabella for the first time, noticed that Jules was shirtless. “Your shirt caught on fire?” Jules coughed and nodded. “Red’s…a dead man.” Isabella shuddered.
Isabella looked lovingly at Elora who was fine except for a few tiny scratches and black smut on her face. “Were there any servants in there?” asked Isabella.
“If there was, I didn’t see any.” Jules voice lowered. “How the hell did Lettie think she was going to make it out of that house?”
“You think Lettie set the fire on purpose?” Isabella said, her eyes welling up with emotion. Jules shrugged.
“Any chance it was an accident?” Jesse asked.
Jules shook his head. “Hell, there’s a chance, but it ain’t likely, not the way Lettie acted and then refusing to come out of the house.”
Isabella raised her eyes and gazed out at the smoldering flames.
Jesse shook his head. “What about Red; you think Miz Lettie meant to kill him, too?”
“Nah, I think Lettie was too crazy to think a thing about Red. And he was probably too drunk to know what was happening, and by the time he figured it out, it was too late to get out of there.”
Elora kicked and cooed. Isabella smiled at the baby, leaned down and kissed her. Isabella turned and looked at Jules. He winked at her. Isabella smiled and twined the gold cross necklace around her fingers.
“What are we going to do about the fire?” Isabella asked.
“I’ll have Hoyt get the boys out here as soon as we get back. Jesse, you run over and tell the coroner.” Jesse nodded.
Isabella sighed. “We now need a place to live and work.”
“I’ve heard that boy of Kate O’Brien’s is back in town,” Jules said. “What’s his name?”
“Is it Patrick?” asked Isabella.
“Patrick, yeah. Anyway, he’s had an interest in buying that place for quite some time now.”
“How do you know?” asked Isabella.
“Darling, I know everything that goes on in this town,” Jules said, grinning. “I don’t believe Lettie and Red had any family left. Jesse, why don’t you and Charlie take charge of McGillivrary’s until something is settled with that O’Brien boy. I’ll go over to the bank and see what needs to be done to sell the place. Isabella, you take charge of the finances until we get it sold.”
Isabella stared in amazement. “You mean you want me to take care of the money?”
“Hell, you can count, can’t you?”
Isabella looked up. “Yeah--”
“Good, that’s taken care of,” said Jules, guiding the buggy. “There ain’t any need making something more complicated than it is, I always say. Work smarter not harder.” Isabella and Jules exchanged a long look.
The buggy finally pulled into the livery stable and Jules turned in his seat. “Jesse, take Isabella down to the tavern and get her settled and then you and Charlie come on up to my office and we will try to organize this thing. Tell Charlie just to put a ‘closed’ sign on the door for the next three days. That will give me time to get in touch with Patrick O’Brien. If there ain’t enough money in the register to pay the four of you, hell, I’ll pay you myself until we get things back up and running.”
Jules’s feet hit the ground. He put on his coat and reached for his hat. Isabella started crying. Jules looked up at her. “Little lady, quit crying. You ain’t dead, that pretty little baby you got there is fine, and you got a lot to be proud of and thankful for. I don’t want to see any more tears on your pretty face, you hear?”
Isabella nodded and handed the baby to Jesse. She jumped out of the buggy and walked over to Jules. She threw both her arms around his thick neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you, I can never thank you enough.” She looked Jules in the eye. “How will I ever repay you?”
Jules smiled a slow smile. “We’ll figure something out.”
Rumors of ghosts, voodoo and the homecoming of Patrick O’Brien, all filled the streets of Savannah. There was talk that Lettie and the conjure woman had accidentally set the Skid-a-way house on fire. Lettie’s run-about carriage was parked in the carriage house to the side of the livery stable. The carriage was up for sale and there had been a steady stream of people viewing it. However, most of the viewers were there out of curiosity. An old blanket covered the carriage and when the blanket was pulled off, everyone stepped back. No one wanted to get near it. No one that is, except for Patrick O’Brien.
On the day the carriage was being auctioned there had been no bids. Finally, Patrick, tall, intriguing, with solemn eyes, stepped forward. The auctioneer looked at him and said, “You here out of curiosity or do you intend to bid?”
“I stepped forward, didn’t I? For the right price, I might be able to use the buggy. I know a little about the auction business and I know that you have no offers.” With his hands dug deep in his trousers, Patrick walked arou
nd and studied the carriage.
The auctioneer tilted his head. “Okay, what do you want me to do? You’re right—it seems everyone in this town has some weird ideas about the old woman who owned the carriage. Hell, I don’t know why they just don’t buy it cheap and paint it that strange color of blue that they’ve painted on every shanty in this town. That should ward off the evil spirits.”
Patrick smiled and fixed a steady gaze on the auctioneer. “The color is haint blue.”
The auctioneer looked down at the ground, then lifted an anxious face toward Patrick. “I’ll tell you what, make me your best offer and I’ll sell you this dad-gum buggy. I want to get through the marshes before dark.” Patrick broke away from his gaze and smiled. “You’re right about that. I’d think twice about going through them marshes after dark.” Patrick bent down and examined under the carriage. He stood up, shook his head, and frowned. “I don’t need this carriage. I don’t know why I’m even considering it.” Patrick leaned back with folded arms and narrowed eyes.
The auctioneer took a small notebook and pen out of his pocket and started to figure. He rubbed his chin, leaned into Patrick and showed him the pad. “I’m going make you a deal you can’t refuse; in fact, I’m gonna practically give you that damn carriage. I’ll let you have it for this number here.”
Patrick lowered his eyes. “I don’t know. That’s more than I wanted to pay. It certainly needs work.”
The auctioneer scratched though the figures and wrote another number. “This is my last offer!” He showed the pad to Patrick.
“All right, you have a deal,” said Patrick.
Early the next morning, Patrick O’Brien took his new buggy out of the carriage house and went for a ride through Forsyth Park. The morning was brisk and cool, so different from the humid air that was present later in the day. Patrick slowed the carriage down and watched the passersby. After a few minutes, he saw a young woman enter the park. Patrick sat back and watched her as she visited with one artist after another. Eager for a chance to see her, Patrick jumped out of the carriage and started walking through the park. Right before he came upon the woman, he stood and gazed. Her waist length black hair blew in the wind. She was talking to one of the artists.
“Michelangelo was put in prison, as were other great artists, but no one dared question Leonardo, he was the master,” said the artist.
“How do you know?” teased Jacqueline. “You know only what you have read and only a fool would believe everything that was put before him.”
The artist turned in his chair and raised his voice. “Did I say I believed everything that was put before me? No, I did not. But I do believe Da Vinci was the greatest.” He turned back to his easel and continued painting.
“Do you believe that the affair Michelangelo had with Vittoria Colonna inspired his painting of Revelations in the Sistine Chapel?” Jacqueline asked.
“How do you know Michelangelo had an affair with Vittoria?”
Jacqueline hesitated. Several other artists, who overheard, started to laugh.
“May I answer that?” Patrick offered. The colony of artists’ heads went up. “If Vittoria Colonna was half as beautiful as you, Michelangelo could not have helped but to have been inspired.” Patrick turned and looked at the artist. “As for your question, again if Vittoria had half the beauty of this woman, Michelangelo could not have helped himself.” Patrick smiled a slow smile and with a fixed gaze on Jacqueline said, “I’m Patrick O’Brien. And you are?” Patrick looked at the ring on her hand.
The artists stretched their necks and exchanged glances.
Jacqueline looked up and smiled.
“I have a new carriage. Would you like to go for a ride?” asked Patrick.
Jacqueline glanced at the others and then her eyes went back to Patrick. A man of slight stature and a high-pitched voice stood up, waved his hand and said, “I would!” Everyone laughed.
Patrick smiled. “Okay, anyone else?” He stared at Jacqueline. Her eyes twinkled; she sensed wildness in this man.
“I’m afraid I cannot leave you,” Patrick said as he stared at Jacqueline.
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” said Jacqueline with a smile.
“Miss--?”
“Rousseau.”
“Miss Rousseau, there is always a choice. The question is whether or not you’ll act on it.” Patrick checked his pocket watch and shook his head. “Oh well, it’s time to go. Maybe some other time.”
“Maybe,” Jacqueline said with a seductive gaze.
That night Jules got out of the bath, looked over his shoulder and called for Jacqueline. Jules walked nude into her bedroom and called her name. She didn’t need to respond. A gentle breeze blew in from the open French doors. Jules walked out onto the balcony.
“There must be something awful interesting in that park,” said Jules.
Jacqueline was startled. “You’re nude,” she said.
Jules eyed her. “That’s never bothered you before.”
Jacqueline looked around. “Jules, put some clothes on. You know we have those two nosey biddies that live up the street.” Jacqueline felt a squeeze on her right breast. She moved his hand.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Jacqueline hesitated. “No, of course not.”
Jules looked skeptical. He put his mouth to her ear and moved her close to him. “Come on baby, let’s go inside,” he whispered.
The park was lit with an apricot glow. Jacqueline looked back out the French doors from the corner of her eye.
Hours later, Jules left Jacqueline asleep, lit a cigar and took a walk through the park. A dark haired man sitting beside the fountain caught Jules attention. The stranger’s eye sharpened. “Jules, Jules McGinnis?”
Jules was surprised. He peered at the man. “Well, I’ll be damned. Patrick O’Brien. I wouldn’t have known you.” Jules extended his hand and Patrick gave Jules a firm handshake.
Patrick removed a silver flask from his shirt and held it out to Jules. “You want a drink?”
Jules chuckled and slapped Patrick across the back. “Hell, son, you ain’t changed a bit. What are you doing now?”
“My folks have asked the same thing.” Patrick laughed. “Well, I was all set to come home and practice law and then McGillivrary’s came up for sale. Sure was bad about Lettie and Red. Were you in town when it happened?”
Jules looked at Patrick with a puzzled face. “You mean you hadn’t heard?”
“Nah, what happened?”
“I took that little gal staying at the tavern over to Red and Lettie’s to get her baby. About the time we got there, Lettie set the place on fire.”
“The hell you say,” said Patrick.
“Hell, yeah, and then I had to go into the damn house and take the baby away from Lettie.”
“Shit. Are you kidding me?” said Patrick with genuine awe.
Jules shook his head. “I wish I was.”
“You get the baby out alright?”
“Yep, but there were a few minutes that I didn’t think we were going to make it.” Jules paused. “I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you. You still interested in buying the place?”
“Yeah, I been over to the bank. I got most of the money, but they’ve agreed to loan me the rest.”
“If you need me, let me know. I promised that little gal that I’d help her. I’ve been paying her and the other three salaries since Lettie and Red died.”
“That’s awful good of you,” said Patrick.
“Well, hell, that gal’s got that baby and she ain’t got no husband.”
“That’s what Ma said. Wonder what her story is?”
“I don’t know, but it ain’t good.” Jules slapped Patrick on the back. “Good to see you, son. Tell your mother and daddy I said hello.”
“Will do, Jules; see you around.”
Patrick looked to the street and saw a dark shadow run around his carriage. “Hey, Jules, if you don’t mind, walk over to my buggy with me
. I think some low-life trash is about to try and steal it.”
“Hell, let’s go,” Jules said. The two men walked quickly in silence. They approached the carriage and saw a figure go down beside the carriage.
“Get the hell up from there before I shoot you,” Jules shouted.
The old woman with wiry gray hair rose up. She wore a black dress buttoned up to her throat. When she ducked down a multitude of cross necklaces clanged together. Jules eyed the woman. “Hell, that’s Mathilde, the old conjure woman who used to work for Lettie.”
Mathilde’s lips curved a slight smile. “Remember dis night.” She picked up a brown burlap bag, took out what appeared to be small animal bones mixed with dirt and threw it at the two men. She looked at Jules. “You helped kill Lettie.” She turned to Patrick, “And you took her carriage.” She kept her eyes on both men as she spoke.
Jules laughed. “You’re a damn crazy woman.”
Mathilde wrinkled her nose and chewed on tobacco. Patrick examined the old woman’s face. He narrowed his eyes and whispered, “I know you; I remember seeing you as a child.”
Mathilde grabbed Patrick’s arm with her dry wrinkled hand. “I’m glad that you remembered me. Now, I will leave you never to forget me. If you don’t see what you have done, you will soon see.” Mathilde grabbed her black burlap bag and ran into the night.
Jules lowered his eyes and laughed. “Hell, I don’t believe it.”
“Haven’t you heard of Mathilde?” asked Patrick.
“Sure I have, but that don’t mean that I am believing any of her nonsense.”
Patrick shrugged, “I was always taught that anyone who had any sense kept away from her.”
“You believe in that nonsense?” Jules asked.
“Nah, mostly what you hear is old slave stories. I just figure whatever happens, happens.” Patrick turned and looked at the carriage. “Maybe I ought to paint it haint blue.” Both men laughed.
That night Jacqueline awoke from a bad dream. Dogs were chasing her, she fell and the dogs bit her face. People watched and they were laughing at her. When she got up, she saw Jules and Patrick They, too, were laughing at her. Jacqueline sat up in bed and gasped. She rose and walked over to the French doors and out onto the balcony. She stood in the still of the night, staring out at Forsyth Park. She wondered if she would see Patrick again. She turned and looked at a sleeping Jules. A chill went through her.
