“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, taking his hand.
He tossed the strawberry into his mouth. “I’m not. I learned a lot from that experience. It helped make me who I am, and because of it, I can more fully appreciate the real, true love you and I have. I very plainly know the difference between the real thing and bullshit.”
“But you still love Jackson, sir?”
“Oh, absolutely, but not in that way; I’m straight, Nez. I know now that I could never have stayed with him the way he wanted me to. Clearly, he knew it too. That’s why he collared Marie-Louise.” He leaned back and shook the crease out of the newspaper. “God, what a fuckup that was.” He disappeared behind the Journal.
I wondered where to begin with Marie-Louise as I watched a squirrel jump from branch to branch in the nearby oaks. The sun was warm and the scent of sweet olive filled the air; what a strangely perfect place.
“Happy birthday, sir. Ma’am, would you care for more coffee?” Thomas’s voice startled me from my reverie. Mr. Delacroix did not respond to his birthday greeting.
“Yes, please, and bring some for Mr. Delacroix as well. Could I have some orange juice?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thomas said as he cleared the coffee carafe from the table.
“You speak to Thomas as if you’ve lived here your whole life,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind his paper.
A white ibis strolled across the croquet lawn. His long legs each lifted high as if he were wading in the shallows. His walk looked out of place outside of the marsh.
“Mr. Delacroix, why is that ibis up here?” I asked.
He lowered the paper. “He’s a pretty one; a smart one too. There must be an alligator in his regular spot, so he came up here till the thing goes away. He’s no dummy, and he ain’t gonna be anyone’s breakfast, either.”
“An alligator?” I said in alarm.
Mr. Delacroix slammed his paper down. “Damn it, Nezzie, an alligator what?”
“My lord,” I said.
“I swear you’re doing it on purpose now. Fuckin’ hell, I’ll have your ass for my breakfast,” he said, shaking his paper. “If you think your ass is sore now . . .” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” I said, stifling a giggle; he sounded like a grumpy old man.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asked without dropping the paper.
“No, sir,” I said, and sipped my water in hopes of hiding my smile. I continued to watch the ibis as he awkwardly made his way back toward the water’s edge.
“Nezzie,” he said without dropping the paper.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Come rub my shoulders for me, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. I’ve been tense,” he said as he set the paper down. “I guess the stress of finally turning thirty is getting to me a bit.”
“I’m sorry. Have I added to your troubles?”
“Oh god, no. Well, yes, when you play games with salutations. Please stop it,” he said.
“My lord, I promise that I don’t do it on purpose. Sometimes I forget when I’m overwhelmed. It’s not every day that I hear there’s an alligator in the backyard. Hell, sir, it’s not every day the backyard is hundreds of acres, either. And it’s your birthday! The whole situation is very overwhelming to me. To you it’s normal, but to me it’s extraordinary.”
“Come here, baby,” he said and led me around to stand above him, one of those rare moments he chose for me to be on top. He wrapped his arms around my waist and put his head between my breasts. My hands cradled his curls and held him close. He was like a child in that moment, eyes closed, vulnerable. I felt his trust in me, and knew I would protect him with my life from the demons that knocked at his door.
“Miss Nez,” Marie-Louise called out as she and Jackson approached the terrace, “good morning. Master said we could sleep in. Happy birthday, Mr. Delacroix.” She was all smiles, wearing a gossamer shift printed in flowing pink flowers.
Mr. Delacroix gently pushed me away. “Sit, Nez.”
I sat and waved to Marie-Louise. “Good morning,” I smiled.
“Mornin’, Jack, I trust you slept well?” Mr. Delacroix said. He ignored the birthday wish and Jackson didn’t give one.
“We sure did, sir,” Jackson said. “How about you, Miss Nez? You look very refreshed this morning.” He glanced at my reddened wrists.
“I am,” I said as I put my hands under the table.
“Don’t hide your wrists,” Mr. Delacroix said and lifted my hands back where they had been.
“Sir,” Jackson asked, “is it all right if I touch Miss Nez’s hands?”
“I suppose so,” Mr. Delacroix said nonchalantly, raising his paper again.
“Miss Nez,” Jackson said as he took my hands in his, “these marks you have are something to be proud of. They’re a symbol of your belonging, that you’re one of us. They tell me loud and clear that you’re worthy, that you understand and love Mr. Delacroix. It’s okay. No one here will ever judge you because we understand. My dear child, around here those are as good as medals hanging on your chest.”
I looked at Marie-Louise and she nodded in agreement. “It’s good, Miss Nez,” she smiled.
“Thank you,” I said. Thomas brought the coffee and juice.
“Coffee for us, too, Tom, and a couple of those juices. What’s for breakfast?” Jackson asked as he let go of my hands.
“Of course, sir, anything you like, but Chef has prepared banana French toast and eggs to order,” Thomas announced.
“I’ll have the usual,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind the paper.
“Yes, sir.” Thomas turned to me.
“I’ll try a little of the French toast and just one egg scrambled, please,” I said.
Thomas turned to Jackson who replied, “A big piece of French toast and a couple eggs over easy. Do ya’ll have bacon today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll have bacon too and some toast,” Jackson said. “Marie will have two eggs over medium. She doesn’t need French toast this morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said as he turned on his heels.
“Jack,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind the paper, “you’re eating too much.”
Jackson sat in silence, which infuriated Mr. Delacroix. I could see the paper shimmy as he held his temper. Marie-Louise moved her chair back from the table.
“You’re not on top anymore, old man, and since you think Nez’s marks are a badge of courage, I’ll see you upstairs after breakfast so you can show me just how fucking courageous you are.” The paper shook.
“Yes, sir,” Jackson replied and Marie-Louise moved her chair back in. She looked at me, shrugged, and nudged her head in Mr. Delacroix’s direction.
“Yes, Marie, I am in a mood. Shush now.”
Marie-Louise went pale.
Mr. Delacroix put his papers aside and received his breakfast: three four-minute eggs with fruit scattered about the plate just so. The French toast was sweet and gooey. It tasted more like a dessert than breakfast. Marie-Louise ate hungrily and Mr. Delacroix gingerly; Jackson did not touch his food. We ate mostly in silence, but made small talk about the ibis and the alligator and the squirrels.
“We had a dog once when I was a kid. Remember, Jack?”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Delacroix, she was a sweet dog too, but that damned alligator got her.”
“I was so upset that Dad said he’d get me another, but I couldn’t do it. I was afraid the gator would get that one too and I couldn’t bear it,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’ll bet it’s the same damned gator that’s there now. They don’t go too far once they reach adulthood, and they live forever. I have half a mind to shoot the fucker, but then we’d be overrun by vermin.”
“He’d make for good eating, sir,” Marie-Louise said.
“H
e sure would, Marie.” Mr. Delacroix smiled and seemed to be coming out of his funk.
“Sir, may I ask a question?” I chimed in.
“Absolutely, my beauty,” he said.
“For people that come from the South, sir, you and Jackson don’t have much of an accent. I can hear Marie-Louise’s accent clearly all the time, but not yours. How come?”
“Good question, Nez,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Growing up, I was coached not to drawl when I speak. Both my parents used to correct me all the time when I’d come home from playing with the village kids. Jackson did too, come to think of it. It’s just the way we were taught.”
“Miss Nez, there’s a certain stature given to those who speak well,” Jackson said. “Mr. Delacroix’s station requires him to speak clearly, with intelligence. Added syllables, in some circles, indicates a certain level of, shall we say, laziness and ignorance.” He glanced at Marie-Louise.
“Well, I for one find the Southern accent charming and very sexy. It reminds me of molasses and green grass,” I said.
“Yeah, cher, molasses and green grass. Trust me. In the boardroom you do not want to sound like molasses and green grass,” Jackson said with a laugh. “In the bedroom maybe, but not in the boardroom.”
“Well said, Jack,” Mr. Delacroix said before adding a lilting accent. “But for you, my de-ah, molasses and green grass all the time. I may even pour some of that sweet molasses all ovah your body and lick it all off ya.” He took my hand and licked my arm from the red wrist to my armpit.
“You’re funny, sir,” I laughed.
“Well, Miss Nez,” he said, “I am as serious as a heart attack. I’m gonna take your nekkid body and throw ya down in the green grass. Mark my words, little girl, you can count on it.”
Mr. Delacroix turned to Jackson. “Jack, get your ass upstairs. I’ll be there in about fifteen, so be ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Jackson said and sauntered across the terrace as he unbuttoned his shirt. I noticed Mr. Delacroix looking after him, deep in thought. I wondered if Mr. Delacroix still loved Jack in the old way or hated him in a new way.
“Nez, I gotta go deal with Jack, so I’m leaving you in charge of Marie-Louise.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He turned to Marie-Louise and took her chin between his thumb and finger. He brought her face close to his and shook it. “And you better behave yourself!”
“Yes, Mr. Delacroix,” she said with wide eyes.
“Nez, in two hours I want to see you in our sitting rooms. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at his watch. “That’s at exactly eleven twenty-five, not a minute later. There’ll be hell to pay if you’re late. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Eleven twenty-five, no later.”
“Good girl,” he said, and gave me a generous kiss as he walked away.
30.
“Miss Nez, it won’t get easier, ya know, to see him walk away,” Marie-Louise said, seemingly older and wiser, a sudden change in her demeanor.
“I think you’re right,” I said, watching her take a piece of bacon from Jackson’s plate and lean back. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start wherever you like. You read my letter, didn’t you, ma’am?”
“Yes. I suppose I want to thank you first for being honest. That’s definitely a start,” I said as I poured myself more coffee.
“Miss Nez, I haven’t been privy to much honesty in my life, but god knows I give it. I try.”
“Me too, honey. Me too,” I said. “I think you and I have a lot in common.”
“Master told me that your momma sort of gave up on you and that you don’t have a daddy either and that some other man made you do things, but he didn’t say what, but I know how men are, what they want.”
“He didn’t make me have sex with him, if that’s what you think. My mother is an addict and I guess I got roped into dealing for him to support her habit.” I hesitated. “And then I guess it became my habit too.”
“Oh my god, Miss Nez, that’s terrible,” she said. “Much worse than me, I think.”
“You do?” I asked incredulously.
“He put you in grave danger dealing with strangers. At least my momma tried to protect me. In my case, I was kept at home and didn’t have to venture out with strangers. Sex is natural. It’s normal and feels good. It won’t kill you like addiction will.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I said.
“The bad part was when he beat my momma,” she continued. “She tried to protect me, but he was too much for her. So after a while, I learned how to give in so he wouldn’t hurt her so much. It wasn’t as bad as you might think and I came to like it in a way. He looked after me pretty well until I got older. Master says that I became conditioned and that it’s okay.”
I wondered if that was happening to me, if I was becoming “conditioned.”
“Can I ask how old you were?”
“When, miss?”
“When you lost your virginity.”
“I can’t remember,” she said, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-one,” I said.
“But aren’t you twenty-one now?” she asked, and then, “Oh my god in heaven, Mr. Delacroix took your virginity. What was it like?”
“Well, it hurt for a bit, but then the pain went away and it felt good.”
“Did you bleed?”
“A little. Mr. Delacroix was sweet. He told me he was honored to take my flower,” I said, fondly remembering his words. “I was honored to have given it to him.”
“He loves you so much, Miss Nez,” she said, nibbling the bacon. “I guess girls like me, girls that are good for only one thing, aren’t deserving of the kind of love you have.”
“Marie, you deserve to feel good and god knows you deserve love. You said so in your letter.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said as she lowered her eyes.
“What exactly do you think love is, though? What are you hoping for?” I asked, just to make sure we were talking about the same thing.
She touched my wrists lightly and I looked in her eyes and put both my wrists on the table for her to touch.
“Miss,” she said, “I think this is love, these marks, but I know most people don’t understand. Master told me that we Twisted Oak people are different. He said I’m extra special, which is why it’s best for me to stay here and not venture out. He says people don’t understand me.” She paused. “I’m used to being different and I’m comfortable here. The way we are, all of us, it’s a good kind of different. And this,” she lifted my wrist to her mouth and brushed the redness with her lips, “this is good.”
I pulled my wrist away and said crossly, “Mr. Delacroix has asked you and me to behave. Let’s not disappoint him. It wasn’t easy for me to get his permission for us to have this time together.”
“Sorry, ma’am. I just—” She paused. “You’re very beautiful. I’m sorry.” She lowered her head in shame and my heart sank. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel worse.
“I’ve been thinking about your situation and it’s clear that neither of you wants to stay in it. I can’t help but think there has to be a way for you to break the collar and still stay here.”
“Miss Nez, please don’t make me go back to the village. The people there won’t understand and my auntie is ashamed of me. She thinks I’m a whore and that I’m the reason Daddy left Momma,” she said. “I may be dumb, miss, but I understand that going back there would be a terrible move for me. It would lower my station and then I’d be ridiculed even more than I already was, than I already am.” She sounded so pathetic. “Master’s right. People don’t understand me. Please don’t make me go back there.”
It was obvious that she was
scared to go back. Who could blame her? What a desperate life she must have had.
“I haven’t heard you play the piano yet, but Jackson says you’re very gifted. I’d like to hear you play,” I said, trying to ease her mind.
“And there’s no piano in the village. Don’t make me go! I’ll run away!” She got up and began to run toward the bayou.
“Marie, there’s an alligator down there. Stop!” I kicked off my sandals and ran after her, but she was fast and I was so sore. “No one will make you go to the village. I promise!”
Thankfully, she stopped running and I caught up to her barefoot, out of breath.
“All you people do is make promises. You think this dumb girl will just believe anything?” she cried. “I will not go back there, ma’am, I swear to god in heaven I’ll kill myself first.”
“Honey, you aren’t going back. I know Mr. Delacroix would never do such a thing. I know he wouldn’t and this promise comes from me, Marie, not them, not a man. It comes from me, a woman who understands.”
I put my arm around her and guided her away from the bayou. “We’re a creative bunch. I’m sure we can figure out a way to keep you here at the mansion, just not under Jackson is all. It’s a big house and Mr. Delacroix was talking about refurbishing the children’s wing.”
“Miss, you mean I can stay in the north wing near the piano?” she said with those wide childlike brown eyes.
“No, I never said that. I can’t, because I don’t make promises that I can’t keep. But I promise I’ll talk to Mr. Delacroix.”
“But who will I belong to?”
I found myself looking at her, waiting for the salutation. I heard Mr. Delacroix’s voice in my head: I'm leaving you in charge of Marie-Louise. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said intuitively, “I’ve forgotten my place.”
“You’re scared, Marie, I understand, but I think it’s better if we follow protocol, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” We walked back toward the table where Thomas was clearing the men’s plates. She continued, “Have you ever had a master you couldn’t please no matter what you did?”
Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey Page 33
