East of Orleans

by Renee' Irvin

  Jules reached into his pocket and removed a cigar, lit it, and eyed Tom for a minute. “My wife is good at forgetting,” he said.

  “And you!” Isabella said, storming off.

  When Isabella returned to her seat, the two-faced girls who had worked for Mae were being sworn in. Isabella leaned forward and whispered to Jacqueline, “Who are they?”

  Patrick shot Jacqueline a sharp glance so she did not answer. Priscilla had come in and sat down next to Isabella. She whispered in Isabella’s ear, “Dey is twin girls Miz Mae got from one of dem plantations over in Beaufort. I been waiting, hoping dey wuz not doing up dere for dey will say anything for de money.” Priscilla gave Isabella a sidelong glance. Just as Priscilla had said, the two-faced girls testified against Jacqueline, came down from the stand and gave her a smug smile. “Dey is just ill-bred,” whispered Priscilla throwing her shoulders back.

  The next witness the defense called was Annalee Hancock. Annalee told about how she had first come about knowing Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien. “We could never get her into personal conversations; try though we might,” said Annalee, smiling at Lucy. “Oh, I’m sorry the ‘we’ is Lucy Baker and myself. Had we of known of Miss Rousseau’s troubles, we would have tried to minister to her, but it was no use, for she would not speak a word to us or look our way.”

  Noble Jones, the head prosecutor said, “Mrs. Hancock, I bet you sure were confused.”

  “How is that, Mr. Jones?” asked Annalee with a concerned face.

  “Well, with all the comings and goings in that house on Oglethorpe, did you even know who Miss Rousseau was living with?” said Noble Jones.

  “Oh no, it was a very confusing situation. There was no accounting for Miss Rousseau or who was living with her in that house,” said Annalee.

  “Would you say that Miss Rousseau was operating a house of entertaining gentlemen?”

  One of Jacqueline’s lawyers jumped up. “Objection, your honor, Mr. Jones is leading the witness!”

  “Objection sustained. Mr. Jones, please do not lead the witness,” said the judge.

  “Yes sir. Mrs. Hancock, you have stated that you witnessed Jesse Rucker, a Negro man, employed by Jules and Isabella McGinnis load a blood soaked sheet into the back of Mrs. McGinnis carriage on the morning Jacob Hartwell went missing.”

  “Yes sir, I sure did.”

  “And you also stated that this took place in the back courtyard of Jacqueline Rousseau’s residence, is that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “That’s all, Mrs. Hancock, for now,” said Noble Jones.

  An attorney for the defense approached the witness and said, “Mrs. Hancock, you have testified that you saw Jesse Rucker load a sheet that was stained with blood into the carriage of Mrs. Isabella McGinnis, is this correct?”

  “Yes sir, that is what I said.”

  “At any time, did you see what was rolled up in the sheet?” asked the defense attorney.

  “No sir, I did not,” said Annalee Hancock.

  “So, Mrs. Hancock, am I correct in saying that, other than what you think you saw—.”

  “Objection! Counsel for the defense is leading the witness,” said Noble Jones.

  “Objection sustained, please do not lead the witness,” said the judge.

  Jacqueline’s attorney continued. “Mrs. Hancock, is it not true that you did not take the information about what you saw on the morning of Jacob Hartwell’s disappearance to the police until after his body was found?”

  “Well, yes, that is true, but—.”

  “That’s all, Mrs. Hancock, you may step down now,” said the defense attorney.

  The state then called Jesse Rucker to the stand. Jesse was sworn in and then Noble Jones proceeded to question him. “Mr. Rucker, may I call you Jesse?”

  “Yes sir,” said Jesse.

  “Jesse, you have heard Mrs. Annalee Hancock swear under oath that she saw you load a blood-soaked sheet into the back of Isabella McGinnis’s carriage on the morning of Jacob Hartwell’s disappearance,” said Noble Jones, “Did you kill Jacob Hartwell?”

  “No sir, I did not,” said Jesse.

  “Did Isabella McGinnis kill Jacob Hartwell?”

  “No sir, she did not!” said Jesse.

  “Well, if you didn’t kill Jacob Hartwell and Isabella McGinnis did not kill him, who is left? Mr.Rucker, would you not admit that Jacqueline Rousseau killed Jacob Hartwell that morning?”

  “No, nobody killed Jacob Hartwell dat morning,” Jesse said.

  “Jesse, how many times would you say that you’ve visited Miss Rousseau’s house?”

  “Two or three,” said Jesse.

  Annalee Hancock and Lucy Baker had left the courtroom, but they were among those outside peeking in to get a better view. Noble Jones leaned over to speak to Jesse in a soft tone.

  “On those two or three times, did you go alone to Miss Rousseau’s?” Jesse sprang up from his seat and the courtroom was filled with gasps.

  “Your Honor, Mr. Jones is leading the witness in a very inappropriate manner,” Jacqueline’s attorney cried out.

  “Very well. Mr. Jones, re-phrase your last question please,” said the judge.

  “Yes, your Honor. Mr. Rucker, would you please tell the court the nature of your other visits to Miss Rousseau’s?” asked Noble Jones.

  “Yes sir. Miz Isabella is a friend of Miss Jacqueline’s and I took her there on a visit dat’s all,” said Jesse.

  “I see,” said Noble Jones. “Jesse at anytime during your employment with either Mr. or Mrs. McGinnis, did either one of them ever ask you to do anything outside your employment, anything that you would have considered wrong or that you would have hesitated about?”

  “No sir, not ever,” said Jesse.

  “Can you tell me why you went with Mrs. McGinnis to the home of Jacqueline Rousseau that morning?”

  “Yes sir, Miz Isabella was worried about Miz Jacqueline and wanted to go over and make sure that she was all right.”

  “And why would she not have been all right?” asked Noble Jones.

  “Because Miz Isabella heard Mr. Jules give Mister Hoyt permission to go over to Oglethorpe and put Miz Jacqueline out of her house.”

  “And why did Mr. McGinnis want to put Miss Rousseau out of her own house?” asked Noble Jones.

  There was rumbling in the courtroom, Jesse glanced at Isabella and then said, “Because Mister Jules was mad dat dey burned his field of cotton,” said Jesse.

  “When you say ‘they’ you mean Mrs. McGinnis and Miss Rousseau?” asked Noble Jones.

  “Yes, dat’s who I mean,” said Jesse.

  “No further questions for this witness, your Honor.”

  “You may be excused Mr. Rucker,” said the judge.

  “The state calls Jules McGinnis to the stand,” said Noble Jones.

  “Mr. McGinnis, will you please explain to the court what your relationship is to Mrs. Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien,” said Noble Jones.

  Priscilla clutched at Isabella’s skirt. Tom Slaughter stared, unblinking at Jules McGinnis. Was it possible, thought Isabella, that Jules was going to reveal his affair with Jacqueline here, now, before all the people in this court? No,—it wasn’t possible. Jules would never do that. Isabella knew that no matter how much Noble Jones interrogated Jules, he would never admit anything that he didn’t want to.

  “Mrs. O’Brien is a dear friend and I brought her home,” said Jules.

  Noble Jones turned his head, looked at the jury, and then back at Jules. “Excuse me, Mr. McGinnis, but did you say you brought her home? Her meaning Mrs. Jacqueline Rousseau O’Brien?”

  “That’s what I said,” said Jules.

  Noble Jones took a few steps toward Jules and said in a low tone, “Is Mrs. O’Brien a native of Savannah, Mr. McGinnis?”

  “No.”

  “Then will you explain to the court what you mean by you brought her home?”

  A dead silence filled the courtroom. Jules ex
haled and sank back in his chair. “Mrs. O’Brien’s mother left her at a port in New Orleans when she was a very small child. After many years of being abused by the woman that she was left to, she fled to find a safer place; somewhere she could finally call home. I felt Savannah was a place where she would never have to worry about what had happened to her as a child ever again, and I promised her a home here,” said Jules.

  “I see,” said Noble Jones, “so the court could assume that you and Miss Jacqueline Rousseau shared a familiar relationship, is that correct? And this “friendship” that you had with Miss Rousseau, was it of an intimate nature?” asked Noble Jones. Not the slightest sound was heard in the courtroom. Jacqueline sat frozen in her seat and Kate stirred. Jacqueline’s lawyer started to speak, but the judge raised his hand.

  Jules eyebrows went up. “Well, it depends, on how you define intimate.”

  “Mr. McGinnis, did you have sexual relations with Mrs. O’Brien?” asked Noble Jones.

  “No, I never had sexual relations with Mrs. O’Brien,” said Jules with a sly grin. The courtroom full of people laughed.

  “I’ll re-phrase that question. Did you ever have sexual relations with Jacqueline Rousseau?”

  “Objection!” said Jacqueline’s attorney.

  “Overruled,” said the judge. “Mr. McGinnis, please address the court.”

  “Oh hell, Noble, you’ve seen Mrs. O’Brien, do you think I’m crazy?” asked Jules.

  The men in the courtroom laughed. The ladies exchanged nervous glances and tittered.

  “So that’s a yes, Mr. McGinnis?” asked Noble Jones.

  “If you’re asking me if I ever made love to a woman I loved, a beautiful woman that I would have given my life for, named Jacqueline Rousseau, then the answer is yes.”

  Jacqueline broke down and cried.

  “Mr. McGinnis, is it true that Jacob Hartwell was your son?” asked Noble Jones.

  Isabella turned her eyes away from Jules.

  Jules raised his brow and said. “It’s possible, Jacob Hartwell could have been my son.”

  Mae yelled out, “Possible, hell, you no good bastard!”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Miss Patterson, please be seated or I will charge you with contempt of court if you have any more outbursts in my courtroom!”

  “Mr. McGinnis, did you ever ask your wife, Isabella, who the father of her daughter was?” asked Noble Jones. The question was too much for Isabella. She got up and ran out of the courtroom.

  Jules stood up, red faced and said, “You sorry sonofabitch, you’re taking this too far!”

  “Mr. McGinnis, please be seated! Another outburst and I’ll have to charge you with contempt of court,” said the judge.

  “Is it possible, Mr. McGinnis, that Jacob Hartwell could have been the father of Jacqueline O’Brien’s daughter?” asked Noble Jones.

  “No, no, that is not possible!” cried out Jacqueline as she jumped up from her seat.

  “Mrs. O’Brien, please remain seated and no more outbursts in this courtroom or I will charge you too with contempt of court,” said the judge.

  “Your honor, if I had of known of any of the pain that Jacob caused either my wife or Mrs. O’Brien, I would have killed him myself,” said Jules.

  “But you did not, did you Mr. McGinnis?” asked Noble Jones. “Your Honor that’s all the questions I have at the present time for this witness.”

  “Mr. McGinnis, you may be dismissed. The court will recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” said the judge, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “Court adjourned!”

  Isabella had been walking for over an hour when an arm reached out for her. She turned around and looked into Tom’s face. She felt nothing but despair.

  He found her down by the river. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

  She did not raise her head. He bent down and removed her shoes and rubbed her feet.

  “Do you suppose you’d want to get something to eat with me?” he asked.

  “Why did you come here?” she asked.

  “I’m a journalist, why do you think?” he said with a serious face, but then he burst out laughing.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She stood up and Tom studied her. Standing there in the sunlight, she looked so much like the girl he used to spend hours with on the Chattahoochee River. He turned to walk away and then he said, “You’d better come on, I hear there’s some real big snakes down here near this river bank; a lot bigger than the ones we have at home.”

  Isabella jumped up and ran after Tom. He grinned, but didn’t glance back—as always, he knew she was behind him.

  “Good lord, Tom Slaughter, can you walk any faster? What did you ask me for if you were gonna go off and leave me?”

  Tom stopped and turned around. For a moment they stood still, and then he kissed her.

  “Jules catches us doing this and he’ll put us in the swamp,” she said.

  “Do I look like I’m worried,” he said pulling her against his body and kissing her hard on the mouth.

  “Turn me loose,” she said.

  “I ain’t never gonna turn you loose again. I don’t know how we are going to work all of this out, Bella, but I ain’t leaving here without you. I ain’t never leaving without you ever again.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “Now, come on, let’s go to the DeSoto and eat supper, and Bella, I don’t care who sees us.”

  Jacqueline hurried to get out of the courtroom and return home. Once there she fed Juliette and then collapsed on the bed while Kate fixed supper for Patrick. Patrick entered the bedroom and she covered her eyes. “Raise up, honey,” he said. “You’re exhausted; are you hungry?” She shook her head. Patrick lay down on the bed next to Jacqueline and wrapped his arm around her. “It’s not going to do your case any good if you fall apart on us.” He clutched her hand. “I’m going to go over to the law office. I’ve got a meeting with our group there a little around seven and then I’ve got to close the tavern. Mother’s going to be here and she’ll look after Juliette. Your nerves are bad, I want you to rest.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Promise me you’ll lay here and get some rest.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  “Good. Honey, they are not going to find an innocent woman guilty. Now, quit worrying and get some sleep.” Patrick blew out the gas lamp next to the bed and walked out and closed the door. “Get some sleep!” he called back. Jacqueline listened as Patrick’s voice trailed off down the hall. Her hair fell loose around her face; she wondered if she was too tired to go on. She rose up, from the bed and went to get the rosewood box. She picked it up went back and sat down on the bed, opened the box and removed the opium. “Here you are my friend,” she whispered. When she was high on the opium she went to a place where no one seemed to bother her. A place where she felt safe and all alone; it was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling.

  It was early evening and the streets were filled with people. Tom Slaughter took off his coat as he entered the restaurant at the Hotel DeSoto with Isabella. An eager young woman approached them and said, “May I help you?”

  “A table for two,” said Tom.

  “Follow me.” The woman smiled. An elderly man and woman glanced up at Tom and Isabella as they walked past the couple’s table. The woman leaned toward the man, whispering and pointing toward the newspaper on their table. As Isabella and Tom ate fried pork chops, rice, fried okra, milk gravy and biscuits, she asked, “Are you staying here?”

  “Yes, didn’t I mention it?” said Tom.

  Isabella smiled and shook her head.

  “Come to my room,” Tom said in a low voice.

  “Someone will see me,” she said.

  “Why do you care if they see you? It’s not like you’ve got such a big circle of family and friends here.” He laughed wryly.

  Isabella nodded. She wondered where Jules was and glanced at her watch. Usually, at this time,
he was either at the warehouse or at the tavern.

  “If you insist, I’ll take you home,” said Tom.

  “You are my home,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Bella, I am so glad you said that.” Tom took her hands into his. The elderly couple reading the newspaper looked over in their direction and exchanged glances. Tom and Isabella looked at each other for a few moments in silence, then Tom got up from the table and said, “Follow me.”

  The wooden steps of the old warehouse shook as Jules walked up them. He went into his office, sat down at his desk, and began looked over his books. The price of cotton was becoming a worrisome concern. Jules poured a glass of whiskey from the bottle in his desk drawer, glanced out the window across the bay, and thought about the lumber mills that were starting to pop up all around the river. Lumber was going to be a better business than cotton. Cotton, he knew, had started to decline. He thought of his cotton field, and what it looked like the night, Isabella and Jacqueline set it ablaze. He drank his whiskey in one shot and refilled the glass. Jules dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He exhaled, looked out across the river and thought of Jacqueline. He knew that he had to do something. She was not going to survive this trial. He was sure the jury was against her and he hadn’t been able to pay off Noble Jones. He thought to himself that he should have fed Noble to the alligators like he did Hoyt. Things were starting to look clearer. Jules had to get Jacqueline out of town and he had to do it that night. There was no other way. He could not, would not, let her go to prison. Even if it meant him going instead. He wondered if she was strong enough to travel. She would have to be. He made her a promise years ago that he would not desert her and he could not, not now, not ever. Jules got up and left his warehouse. He walked toward the boat docks. He knew what he had to do. There was no other way. He lit a cigar and quickened his pace.

  Isabella’s hands were shaking as she walked into Tom’s hotel room. What am I doing? She thought. Did she not remember that she had a child at home and her best friend was on trial for a murder that she knew she could have been on trial for. And she had a husband—where was he this very moment? She breathed deep and looked around the room.