When we were into the barren lands near the banks of our little parish, Abolina said, “I talked to your mother on the phone last night and told her you were coming back.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Well, now, cher, of course you are staying with me and Clem. But that being said, your momma and daddy are still your kin. I know some bad blood passed between y’all, but I don’t understand why you avoid them so. Your mamma stopped by after Josephine died and you let her stand at the door without sayin’ word one. Now everybody knows your daddy is a world class asshole, but what did your mamma do to deserve all that?”
“She let him be a world class asshole,” I told her. I hated my father, and I had good reason. Good reason I had kept to myself for a long time.
“Your mamma can’t help it, cher. She married him, and she stuck with him. What you expect of her?”
“She could leave him. You know she used to work. She made a living once and used to leave the house. I remember those times as happy, and my father took that from her. I think he did it because going to work was something she looked forward to, and he couldn’t stand it.”
“Now, Fanchon,” Abolina chided. “It was not your daddy’s fault your momma stopped working. The family she worked for left town after their daughter passed. You know that. There wasn’t nothing your mother could do about that. And your momma is your kin, and blood is blood is blood.”
“I know you mean well but she had other offers to go to work. That family recommended her highly. I remember it. And I remember my father telling her he did not want her leaving the house anymore. She was too weak to fight back. She just let him dictate the rest of her life. As far as I am concerned I have no family, save for you and Clem. If y’all didn’t take me in with this leg I don’t know what I’d do. But, as far as Rivet and Paulina are concerned, and no I don’t call them daddy or mamma anymore, I am nobody.”
Beau said, “Dat’s harsh, Fanchon.”
I could not stand anybody feeling sorry for my parents. “You want to know what happened the night I left, Beau?” I said getting myself worked up. “The same thing happened to me that night that had been happening to me for 15 years. If I let out any amount of sass, if I ever stepped a toe out of line my father would check me. He would check me on the back of my ass, the bottom of my feet, or in the back of my head where my hair could hide the bruises. That night, after my parents had dinner, a dinner I was not allowed to partake in because my father said I had been sassy, my mom asked me to do the dishes. I said I wouldn’t if I wasn’t allowed to eat, and my father jumped at me, grabbing my arm and threw my momma into her room and locked the door. He walked me out to the front yard and told me to pick a switch. I was 15 years old, and he made me stand in the yard by the Spanish Oak in the middle of the night, pull my pants down to my ankles, and he switched me till I was raw and when my backside grew too raw he switched me across my legs. That night, since he had taken to drink, one of his switches missed and hit me so deep across the stomach that my skin gave way and my blood let out. My mom was too afraid to do anything. From when I was young she would just sit in her room with the door closed, humming to herself, while he beat the tar out of me.
“When I was growing up it seemed like it would never end. I dealt with it for many years. It was not so bad that I couldn’t stand it until I reached high school. That’s when my daddy started drinking and lost all sense of control, aim and depth. I only left when I was finally sure he would kill me if I stayed. Abolina, the night I came to you I hobbled to your house through the mud and trees to Josephine’s window. She pulled me in, cleaned me up and stitched me with a fired up needle, thread and peroxide. You took me in without asking any questions, and for that I think I owe you my life. But, I don’t owe my parents anything.”
When I finished talking I realized we were already to the bank where Beau parked his truck. The truck was stopped, and he and Abolina were sitting in the cab looking forward, dumbfounded.
“Damn, Fanchon,” Beau said.
Abolina’s face was streaked in tears. “Neither of them is welcome on my property anymore. I’ll put word out tomorrow.”
We took Beau’s fan boat down the river. All of the neighbors were out waving to us as we rode by. There was a banner up at old man J.B. and his wife Claudine’s house that said, “Welcome Home, Fanchon.”
It took us forever to get to Abolina and Clem’s house because we kept pulling up to porches and giving people hugs. Beau accepted every beer passed his way. People were handing it out like it was water or lemonade.
When we finally made it back, Clem was sitting on the porch rocking back and forth; his wiry red hair was tamed by a hat. I was surprised to see the whole house had been re-painted since the last time I had been home. Before, it was flaking, and the porch was covered in alligator skulls. The entire house had been white washed, and the skulls were down.
“What’s all this?” I said as the fan motor died down.
“What can I say? I got to paintin’ Josephine’s room, and I got carried away. Did the whole damn house. Looking sharp ain’t it?”
Abolina smiled and practically leapt off the boat to hug Clem. “I think it looks much better. Got down those skulls too. I think it’s a might fine change.”
“Those skulls is temporarily down. You know I gotta keep em’ up to keep the witch woman away,” Clem said to her seriously.
We all waved off his comment. He was suspicious of the psychic who lived downstream and had many times accused her of cursing him.
Abolina said, “Nah, Clem you can put up one. This porch looks fit to sit on now. Maybe we could even get some screen mesh up here so I can sit out comfortable at night.”
“I’ll get you some screen tomorrow,” Beau said. “Fanchon and I gotta go to the hospital to check on the leg anyway. While we’re out might as well get you some screen.”
Beau and Clem carried my bags, and when I got to the room I saw that Clem had painted it yellow, the color I always wanted it to be. It warmed my heart. The room looked so much more inviting than the last time I stayed in it. Clem had also taken out the dull purple blankets and put in a blue and white quilt.
“This looks beautiful, Clem,” I said to him, turning to give him a hug.
“J.B.’s wife made up that quilt for you. It’s got all flowers and old plantations sewn into it. See this one here is Oak Alley. I asked her to put it at the top, cause I know it’s your favorite.”
I was touched. The room looked so much better than the last time I was there, and it looked like it was meant for me. Before, it was definitely Josephine’s room.
“There is one more thing, cher,” Clem called me back out to the hall and opened the door to the adjoining room. It was Lisette’s old room. “Look in there.”
I looked in and could see that room had not been painted. It was the same dull beige color it had been last time, but instead of the brass vanity that used to occupy the corner there was an old electric organ.
Clem threw his hands together and said, “I bought dat beauty at an auction for twenty bucks, but it took $100 worth of work to get it out here. What you think?”
I had to laugh a little inside because I knew the type of music I played would sound ridiculous on an organ, but it was better than nothing, and Clem was so happy I decided to fake some appreciation.
“You done good, old man.” I turned around to give him a kiss on the cheek.
That night we had what Beau called real jambalaya, not that crap we ate in New York. And I had to admit food from home tasted a world better than I remembered.
We sat around the table, and I asked Clem and Abolina where they got the money to paint and fix up the house.
Clem said, “I sold most of my guns.”
That was a big deal. Clem had been hoarding the guns from his old hunting business for years. Refusing to get rid of them after Lisette died. I wondered how he was so much improved since last time I had been home, considering he had lost two daughters.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked.
He smiled at me and put his hand on mine. “You need me, cher. Time to check back in.”
The mood was light around the dinner table that night. We caught up on all the good gossip. We also learned that all those guns were sold within a 10-mile radius of Clem’s house. Then I knew all the neighbors had a nice stockpile of weapons. I could not decide if that was a comfort or a cause for concern. Clem was sure that with Josephine’s killer still unfound it was best to arm every Cajun he could find.
After dinner we went to the front porch, and Abolina pulled an old card table out of a storage shed in the back yard. She set it up on the porch, and we played Bourre until everybody was too tired to keep their eyes open. Beau planned to spend the night sleeping in Lisette’s old room.
Clem and Abolina helped me into my room and Abolina dressed me while Clem stared at the wall. I noticed that over the bed the picture of Josephine and I was missing. It was a black and white photo of the two of us in dresses and bonnets from our days working at the plantation. I asked him where it went.
“I forgot about dat. The old frame broke when I took it down. I got you a new one at yonder hardware store. It’s in your night stand.”
After my nightshirt was over my head I leaned over to the table and pulled out the photo and frame. Something was wrong with the photo. I didn’t notice it last time I was home, but there was a small hole at the top. When I turned it over the writing from the back was gone.
“Clem,” I said. “This isn’t the copy of the picture that was in here before.”
He turned around to look at it.
“Sho nuff is. I dropped the frame right off dat wall and put the picture right back in your drawer.”
“But there was writing on the back of it. I remember before Josephine put it in the frame she wrote the date and the location on the back. You know how she liked to write that stuff. And this one has a hole in it,” I said holding it up to him.
“Sorry, cher. I don’t know where de other one is.”
“I’m not mad. I just wondered where it went is all.”
I put the picture in the white frame Clem had purchased, sliding it in cautiously. I tried to remember back to the day we put it in the frame. Josephine sat on the bed with a blue pen and wrote Oak Alley Plantation, the date and time. I could clearly picture it, so why wasn’t it there?
Long Drive
The next morning I was woken up by Beau bouncing on the bed next to me. I realized I had forgotten to take my white happy pills the night before, and I didn’t dream about the water girl. I felt completely at ease when I went to bed, and I think I had the best sleep of the past year.
“Get up, Fanchon Deveroux. We got places to be. The doctor wants to see dat leg, and I have to be back in time for work.”
If anything could rouse me out of a slumber it was hearing that Beau had work.
“Did you say you are earning an honest living, or did the earth just fall off its axis and send us into some alternate dimension?”
“Why you talking hoity toity? I told you before you left I was interviewing with Sergeant Sherry and the deputy. Well they were mightily impressed by yours truly and now three nights a week I answer the radio calls at the station. I am a bona fide lawman.”
“I don’t know if I would call you a lawman.”
“I got a badge,” he said.
“Really? For working dispatch they gave you a badge?” I questioned.
“Sho’nuff. It’s sewed into my government issued polo shirt.”
I rolled my eyes at him and then rolled my body over. Beau moved closer to me and started singing nonsense songs with my name in them.
Finally, I had enough of Beau’s terrible singing and decided to get out of bed. I reached into the nightstand and pulled out my toothbrush. I stuck it in my mouth to keep my hands free for my crutches.
I stumbled around getting ready in the one bathroom that we all shared, next to Abolina and Clem’s room.
That morning we ate warmed up jambalaya. I noticed the food situation at the house had improved since the last time I had been there. They had milk and eggs in the fridge. When Josephine and I had left, Clem and Abolina were living off gator meat and rice. I guessed the sale of the guns must have been a big boost to the family finances, or Beau was floating money their way now that he was answering the radio.
After breakfast Beau and I took his fan boat back to the bank and rode towards New Orleans. With just Beau and me in the truck it was a more comfortable ride than the day before when three of us had crammed in. The ride to town took us past Terry Thibodeax’s place and the Alligator Sanctuary. I did not care much for Terry. He was a lecherous little slob in high school, and these days he was a big lecherous slob. He had kept his high school job of wrestling alligators for tourists and made a full-blown career of it. He liked it at the Alligator Sanctuary so much that he lived in a little trailer on the grounds. When we rode past, we saw a shirtless Terry using a weed whacker to clear away brush from under the faded white and green Alligator Sanctuary sign. Being shirtless was one thing, but being shirtless and looking like Terry was another. He had skinny arms and legs and a giant belly right in the middle that had no earthly reason to be there. He was one of those guys that bragged that he was still in his size 32 jeans, but they were positioned so low below his belly that he would need a 36 just to cover his rear. As we drove past, he gave us a wave, and we both nodded our heads. We hated Terry, but acknowledging a wave is just good manners.
We arrived at the Free Hospital just outside of town. It was run by one of the local churches and gave uninsured people like myself good rates on services. It was called the Free Hospital but technically it was a discounted hospital. Most of my people aren’t insured, so it’s the hospital of choice. My surgery was paid for, but all of my checkups and therapy would come out of my own pocket.
Beau ran ahead of me to get a wheelchair. We were told when we made the appointment that we weren’t to come in with crutches. He wheeled me into the open foyer of the hospital, which was light, clean and busy with people. We were going to the orthopedic specialist on the second floor. Beau navigated me through the lobby to the elevators and got us up to the second floor hallway. Just before the orthopedist’s office we walked past the maternity ward.
“Stop!” I yelled to Beau. “I want to see the new babies.”
“Jeez, Fanchon. People are going to think you a baby ‘napper,” Beau said. But he stopped anyway.
“Look at those little feet!” I said; staring at the cute baby toes.
There was a stout, curly red haired woman standing at a podium by the door to the maternity ward. She was watching us watching the babies. It made me uncomfortable. I decided Beau was right. Maybe I did look like a baby stealer, wheelchair and all. I gave him a wave indicating we were good to move on, and then the woman stopped us.
“I am sorry, did you say Fanchon?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Beau replied.
“Are you Fanchon Deveroux by any chance?”
I was taken aback. “Uh yes I am. Do I know you?”
“Oh, I thought that was you. I never forget a face,” said the woman. “My name’s Hattie. My folks live down at Lafourche Parish near you. But that ain’t how I know you. You broke your arm when you were six or seven, and I recollect seeing you then, but even more I recollect seein’ you at your birth. Who could forget that?”
“You remember my birth?” I said quizzically.
The woman looked around to make sure nobody was nearby. “Well, it’s not something I would usually talk to folks about, but since you turned out so nice and all it won’t hurt nothing to bring it up.” She leaned in. “You was one of the ugliest babies I ever saw born in this parish or any other for that matter.”
My heart dropped and Beau started laughing. What did she expect me to say to that?
“I mean, I know people usually say babies are pretty, but my God nobody could say
that about you. You were so tiny and squirmy and your ears weren’t level with your crooked little face. Did they straighten out?” She said reaching over to my hair and pulling back the locks. “Oh good, they are just fine.”
A moment later another older woman was walking by. She had thin white hair, but the same stout build as Hattie. Hattie stopped her and said, “Oh, oh, lookie. This is Fanchon Deveroux. Didn’t she turn out a sight?”
The woman stopped and looked me over then got closer, pulling back my hair as Hattie had done. “Heavens, yes. Goodness you were an ugly child.”
“You can’t really remember me. How do you remember a baby from more than 20 years ago?” I asked, highly offended.
“Well, back then we was just a small hospital. We maybe had a birth or two a week, so we spent lots of time with the babies back then.”
“Lots of time,” the other woman repeated.
“And your father was one of the biggest assholes ever to grace this hospital.”
“Biggest asshole,” the older lady chimed in again.
“Anyway, when the biggest asshole in town has the ugliest baby it’s one of those things you remember.”
“Asshole with an ugly baby,” the old lady said shaking her head.
I had no response for any of that. The two of them were staring at me intently. After a brief pause I said, “Well, I gotta go get this leg of mine fixed. Broke it getting thrown in an alligator pit. You know how that goes?”
“Oh my yes, cher,” said the younger woman.
Really, I thought, did she hear what I just said? Then she continued. “Don’t fret though. You did turn out a beauty.”
All Saints' Secrets (Saints Mystery Series Book 2) Page 4
