“We were,” I replied.
“So?”
“So what, Beau?”
“So, now we ain’t having a good time? Was I imaginin’ you kissin’ me back?”
I let out a long sigh. “We were drunk, and it was fun, but that was it.”
“We was drunk,” he said, yelling. “That’s all you got to say?”
He stormed to the other side of the porch. I couldn’t storm after him. I hobbled as quickly as I could to catch up, but I couldn’t and got stuck at the top of the stairs. He was out of sight when I shouted, “Beau, I can’t get down.”
All of the other guests from the tour had gone back downstairs for drinks on the terrace. I sat at the top of the stairs for a few minutes and decided to try to go down them on my own. I slid my crutches down the steps first on their side. They made a lot of racket as they slid down, hitting the first floor with a crash.
I tried to figure out how to lower myself down the steep old steps without falling down them. First, I tried to lower myself doing a reverse crab walk, but my arms were too shaky, and there were two stories worth of steps to go down with no landing. I realized after going down a few that they were too close together to sit on. If I went any farther and my arms gave out I would go tumbling down. I went back up the few steps I had managed. Then I tried to army crawl out to the porch but the latch at the top of the door had caught, and I couldn’t reach it.
I went back to the steps and yelled until I was hoarse. Then I waited quietly hoping Beau would realize he trapped me up there. I watched the last of the sunset through the picture window opposite me. I realized the hall was lit by sunlight, because once it was gone I was left in the dark. With the room devoid of natural light the dark navy blue wallpaper absorbed any visibility I might have had. I was starting to scare myself with the dark.
The ghost stories from my youth came to the forefront of my mind. Like those of the little girl who had drowned nearby, Helene Baxter. After her death the kids used to say the ghost of Helene haunted the house. I knew her when we were young. I used to tell people I wouldn’t mind one bit if her ghost showed up to say hi. However, in my current situation I rethought my opinion on haunting, and I preferred not to be visited by Helene or any other ghosts for that matter.
I don’t know how long I was up there before I heard creaking on the first floor and tried again to yell for help. Nobody replied.
I heard what sounded like somebody locking doors, so I banged on the wall to get their attention, but again silence greeted me. I could feel my breathing becoming erratic, and I was about to panic. I was feeling simultaneously scared and livid.
Strange noises like creaking and moaning filled the house. I kept telling myself it was just the house settling and the wind blowing. I heard what sounded like a pounding on the wall next to me and that was my breaking point. I covered my head and started to cry. Then I felt somebody touch my arm, and I came out swinging.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that it was Beau holding me.
I was so irate I was shaking.
“I am sorry. I forgot all about your leg, and I kept waitin’ thinking, she’s comin’, she’s comin’.”
I started hitting his chest while he was trying to hug me. “Don’t touch me, damn it.”
“I am so sorry. I thought you was being mule headed, and then I finally remembered your damn leg. I am an idiot, Fanchon.”
I couldn’t stop crying and pushed him again. He finally said, “Listen, cher. We have to go. The place is closed, and I can’t get you if you keep pushing me off.”
I stopped hitting him but didn’t say a word. It was really a shame that I could not storm off in a moment like this, just like Scarlett O’Hara herself would have done. I wanted to yell something about never trusting him again and then turn on my heel and walk away, but instead I had to be awkwardly carried down the stairs by him, and then wait on the bottom step while he handed me my crutches. Since I could not have my scene, I said nothing.
We made our way back down the driveway by the gift shop, and I looked up in the window on our way by. I noticed black and white photos hanging on a corkboard. The photos were like the one of Josephine and me that was missing. Then I remembered that during the morning tours the photographer would come around and take pictures and sell them for $5 a piece. All of the photos on the board were recent. One was of the two uninterested tour girls, barely smiling for the photos. I noticed they were put up with pushpins.
I looked to Beau and asked, “Do you see it?”
He asked, “See what?”
“Look, they put them up with pushpins. They must make two copies of the photos and keep one here and sell one. My picture with Josephine has a pushpin hole in it.”
“So?” he said.
“So, Beau, I was there when Josephine put up that photo in high school and now it has a hole in it. I have the copy that used to hang here. How did that happen?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
I tried to look through the windows and see if anybody was still in the shop. I saw movement in the back and pounded on the door. An annoyed looking middle aged man walked up to the door. He was wearing old timey pants with suspenders and a billowy shirt. He said, “What do you want? I’m locking up.”
“I’m sorry. I used to work here, and I wanted to see if you had an old photo of me, one of the antique photos like these out here by the window?”
“You need this tonight?” he asked rubbing his temples.
“We came all this way from near Lafourche,” I told him.
“Ne pas sonner locale,” he said testing my French. My Yankee accent must have been so good he didn’t even think I was local.
“Je vous en prie,” I begged.
“Alright, I’m lookin’ in one spot, and if it ain’t there y’all need to get the hell out.”
“Yes, sir,” I told him, and we followed him through the darkened shop. In the back room he flicked on a florescent lamp and there cast in green light were two standup file cabinets. He said, “When was the picture taken?” I searched my brain for the date. I couldn’t narrow it enough for a day. “Is there a special spot for staff photos, like ones that would have been on the board out front?” I asked.
He stepped away from the cabinet and pulled down a thick photo album.
“I’m serious as all get out. You got a minute to look through that and then go. I should not even have you back here.”
I opened the album and saw that the most recent photos were at the front, the oldest in the back. I flipped back as quickly as I could looking for familiar faces, finally getting to a few people I knew. The man was tapping his foot at me, and I flipped faster and faster, and then he reached forward to close the book. Just before he did, I saw a blank page with a discolored edge that told me a photo had been there.
“This was it. I am sure,” I said, and the man snapped the book shut.
“Time’s up. Now get out,” he said.
When we were back home and I was in the quiet of my room I looked at the photo and wondered how I ended up with the plantation copy. I couldn’t figure out why it would be important to find the other one. Maybe the writing on the back would tell me something? And why was I supposed to be on guard once I found it? I reached over to the pill bottle on the side of the bed, popped one in, and thought, all right, Lisette. Bring me some answers.
I fell into a deep sleep that night and dreamt of the girl. Her hair was darker than mine and long. I remembered Helene had very dark hair, and I asked the woman in the water if she was Helene. My words came out muffled by the water, but she seemed to understand. To my surprise she shook her head. “Are you Lisette?” I asked, and she shook her head again. Then I remembered that Josephine and I had black hair in our photo. We had both dyed our hair that year and kept up on it monthly with cheap dime store dye. I thought that maybe the girl was telling me that it was me from a different time, like when I had dark hair. I started thinking down that path. Then I asked her, “Are yo
u me in high school?” The girl opened her mouth and her eyes looked alive for the first time. She screamed in a high-pitched voice that was clear as day, “No! Wrong time.”
It terrified me right out of my sleep. I woke up shaking. I looked around the dark room. It was a quiet, still night. I could hear Clem snoring in the other room and it gave me such great comfort to know I was not alone. I lay back down in the bed and steadied my breathing.
A Night in Dixie
I did not see the girl in my dreams much after that night. My dreams and my life took a turn for the boring. Beau stayed away, ashamed at what he had done at the plantation, and I suppose he was mad because I rebuffed him. Banyan did not come to visit, and I suspected he had gone back to New York. In fact I did not see anybody for a long while save for J.B. and his wife who came by to play cards after dinner. The only thing of note to happen was that one morning Abolina pulled a gray case from the shed and dragged it into the house. She propped it on my bed and told me I was to use it everyday from then on.
She popped the latches on the case and revealed the contents to be six differently sized hand weights. “What’s that for?” I asked.
“I have let you sulk around about the leg long enough and be carried around by men. It’s time to get stronger.”
“Making my arms stronger won’t fix my leg, Abolina.”
“No, it sure won’t. But it’s time you learn to deal with what’s coming with that leg, either way. If it’s coming or goin’ you need to make your arms strong. You mad at Beau for leaving you at the top of those stairs, maybe you would have been able to get down if your arms were stronger. Maybe you should be mad at you for dat.”
I thought that was unkind but kept my mouth shut out of respect.
“And another thing, cher. You are a grown woman. You stay here to mend, but you need to start thinking about your life when that leg is fixed. You have not touched the instrument Clem got for you, and that’s how you make your living. Your fingers ain’t broken, so you get to practicing and you get to makin’ your arms stronger. Ain’t no weak women allowed in my house.”
I was mad at her for at least a day. Until I realized she was right. I pulled out the first set of three pound weights and realized I was as weak as a baby chick. I spent several quiet weeks lifting weights and doing the exercises left by the doctor. I even made my way to the organ in Lisette’s room to practice a few times.
I was hurt that I had no visitors, not even Beau. I expected him to stay away a day or two, but to not visit for months hurt me more than it should. Instead of hanging with Beau or visitors, I spent my days with Abolina who had me practicing with my legs and arms. Two times everyday she would go over the sheet from the doctor and test that I was improving. She would also pull my arms and make me practice push-ups until I was able to actually do a few. Time passed so slowly those days I longed for even the excitement of cards in Jori’s barn.
Finally, at long last something happened. I had to get my cast changed and the doctor wanted to take another look at my leg.
I saw Beau for the first time in months when he came to pick me up for the appointment. He was quiet at first. When we were waiting in the doctor’s office he finally brought up the elephant between us. “I really am sorry about what happened at the plantation. And I am sorry that I have not been around. It was not my choice. Abolina asked me to stay away so you could get your leg on the mend, and she was real insistent about it.”
“I thought that might be the case, but it hurt just the same,” I told him.
“You don’t even understand, Fan. I would have been there everyday if they’d let me. Even if your feelings aren’t warm to me right now. I miss you, Fanchon, and I want you to tell Abolina to let me around.”
I missed him too, but as a friend. I was afraid if I said too much I would lead him on.
“I missed you too, Beau,” was all I offered, and he gave me a hug and all was forgiven.
When Dr. Michelle saw my leg her outlook was brighter. She looked me over and went to grab her pin. She popped it into my foot and watched my leg jerk.
“You are improving a site over last time. Things are looking really good. Whatever you are doing, keep at it,” she said.
“Do you think I will get to keep my leg?” I asked hoping for a favorable response.
“The way this looks I am fixing to start you on physical therapy as soon as may be,” she said. She went to her drawer and pulled a piece of paper out of it. On it were instructions for the physical therapist and a start date. “We are going to get warmed up two nights a week to get your strength back. I want to see you in a walking cast as soon as is practical.”
“So, no more threat of losing it?” I asked. “Will I be able to walk like I used to?”
“Let’s not put the cart in front of the horse. I don’t think the leg will have to come off, but I am not going to sugar coat the walking. You are going to have a tough go of it, but I think you will walk fair enough soon. And look at your arms. You are really getting it together. You are going to need those arms.”
In that moment I understood what Abolina had done for me, so I was really protective of her when Beau said, “Now you can tell Abolina she don’t have to be so harsh on you.”
“Hush, Beau,” I replied. “You have no idea how much she has done.”
I was in possibly the best mood of the year that night. So, when Beau suggested we go to Dixie’s for dinner I had no objection.
Dixie’s was a paddleboat that navigated the Mississippi while you take your meal. I was already dressed for Dixie’s because dresses were easier to wear than pants with my cast, but Beau had to pull out his work khaki’s and polo from the back of the truck.
Every seat in Dixie’s was a window seat, because watching the river pass was part of the joy of eating dinner there. The waitress escorted us to a table set for two. The table service was set with china plates, extra forks and wine glasses. Beau looked at my glass and told me to order champagne to celebrate the good news of my leg. I searched the menu for a reasonably priced bottle and placed the order. We both selected heaps of seafood and laughed when we noticed that our ambience, a candle at our table, was just a tiny battery operated light. Beau said, “Can’t put real fire on a movin’ boat with drunks.”
I laughed more than was necessary. I think the champagne was getting to me. Beau reached across the table halfway through the dinner and said, “Is it so bad for us to have fun together?”
I rolled my eyes at him and said, “Let’s go out to the deck and watch the water.”
I grabbed my crutches and traversed the length of the boat with Beau next to me holding me at the small of my back. When we got to the deck the steward by the door told us to leave the crutches because the floor of the balcony was wet. Beau put his arms through mine and carried me over to the rail.
“I am glad you leg is better, cherie, but I didn’t care either way, two legs or no legs,” he said.
I knew he didn’t mind.
“Beau, when exactly did you start taking an interest in my legs or me at all for that matter?” I asked. “If I remember in high school you were always too busy with the nearest hussy to care what I was doing.”
“Hush, girl,” he said. “You know I was always sweet on you.”
“No, I did not,” I told him.
“Jesus, Fanchon. Don’t worry about it.”
“I just want to know is all?”
He moved closer. “I don’t know. When you came back after all that happened with Josephine I realized I missed you.”
“What were you doing before I came back?” I asked.
“Nothing. I was doing damn nothing and when you came back I realized it. I needed a real job, and I needed to quit chewin’. I knew you wouldn’t take me unless I was a better man.”
He looked so eager to make me happy when he asked, “Did you even notice that I changed for you?”
“I noticed, Beau, but I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Could you at least give me the time of day before you shut me out?” he asked.
“Just give me time, Beau,” I said. He turned and looked out at the water. I didn’t realize we were getting spray from the wheel. When Beau noticed he picked me up and moved me to the side of the boat. He whispered in my ear, “I am asking you to do the same thing, cher. Give me time.” He kissed me on the cheek and then turned his attention back to the water.
When we walked back inside I noticed on the other side of the boat a familiar face. And I know my cheeks flushed when I saw him. I started to make my way over quickly. When Beau followed my line of sight he saw what I saw, Banyan sitting with a blonde woman.
“Let’s go say hi,” I said.
Beau tried to protest, but I was already gone.
“Hi,” I said the moment I was at the table.
Banyan’s mouth was full, and he was unable to respond. I reached my hand out to the woman on the other side of the table. She was older than me, and thinner.
“My name is Fanchon Deveroux,” I told her. “I’m an old friend of Banyan’s.”
“Hi there. My name is Jamie Poortvliet,” the woman said. She had a southern accent, but not Louisiana. Maybe Virginia.
“What you still doin’ here Banyan?” I asked. By that time Beau was by my side.
“I’m in the middle of an investigation, Fanchon. You know that. In fact I just got back into town,” he said.
I did not care for his tone and met it with sarcasm. “Finding all the criminals on this riverboat cruise are you? Are you interrogating Ms. Poortvliet? If not, maybe you should be doing police work and not taking people out to dinner.”
“Why are you acting like that, Fanchon?”
Beau jumped in. He held his hand out to the woman and introduced himself.
Then Banyan turned the conversation on me. “What have you guys been up to? Are you two together now?”
I quickly said, “No.”
Beau looked mad. I should have tried to cover my hasty no, but I just stood there staring at Banyan and tapping my good foot. When he chose not to say anything, I decided to have my Scarlet O’Hara moment and storm away. “You have a great life, Banyan,” I said and bobbed away with Beau behind me.
All Saints' Secrets (Saints Mystery Series Book 2) Page 7
