much.
THE WOMEN FROM THE congregation invited me to join them as a member of Blessings and Peace and Loving Deeds. This was an honor and in my mind, both unexpected and unwanted. All the same, I had little choice. Monsieur Petit was an esteemed member of the community, and I was his wife. At last my mother could be proud as I sat among the women from the best families. I overheard her speaking of me. At first I thought she was referring to my predecessor, but no, when she had said Madame Petit, whose house was so lovely, whose children were so well behaved, I realized she meant me.
After tea at Madame Halevy’s home, there was conversation regarding orphaned children and those of our faith who did not have luck with business or had fallen prey to illness. We planned dinners to raise funds for those in need and wrote up reports to present to all of the committee members. People who faltered were discussed at great length, for in a group such as this, any hint of wickedness was worth uncovering, including those men who dared to keep two wives: a Jewish wife and another wife, and perhaps another family, living near the docks. The scandal concerned Nathan Levy, born in Baltimore, but now a resident of Charlotte Amalie. Levy had been granted the honor of being the United States consul but was said to be dishonorable in his business dealings. The women seemed most concerned that he lived with an African woman named Sandrine, flaunting the relationship in public, treating her as though she were his wife. I’d seen them once when I was at the market with Adelle. She had stared after them, interested.
“My mother says it’s the marriage of a heron and a parrot,” I said to Adelle.
“Does she?” Adelle made a disapproving face. “Well, your mother knows nothing. They’re not birds. They’re people in love.”
Levy was a member of our congregation, and although there were several letters sent to the office of the United States Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, in Washington, no one dared to discuss this matter with Levy face-to-face, for he was a man of power who helped the business interests of those on the island. Rather than confront him, people crossed the street when they saw his woman or when she and Levy walked arm and arm near the harbor.
I went directly to Adelle’s house and found Jestine on the porch, folding laundry. “I thought you were too busy being married to come see me,” she said. “Aren’t you attending a meeting today?”
“I have three children. And I left the meeting.” I thought perhaps I would find excuses not to attend any meetings to come.
Jestine threw me a dark look. “You have one true friend,” she reminded me.
“Whereas you have two,” I teased. “How is Aaron?”
Jestine laughed, a catch in her voice. “I haven’t any idea.”
She said he had been avoiding her. Twice he had not shown up at their appointed meeting place. She’d stood alone in our garden. She’d thrown stones at my cousin’s window, but there had been no response.
“He’s a heavy sleeper,” I told her. “And you know as well as I do, he’s lazy.” It was, to be honest, part of his charm. He liked to take his time and have lengthy conversations with other businessmen, rather than work in our father’s shop, which he clearly thought beneath him.
Jestine shook her head. “I think someone’s turned him against me.”
We both knew who that someone was likely to be. My mother. “We should have never let him come with us,” I said to my friend. “We should have left him home when he begged to follow us. He was always a troublemaker.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Jestine stacked the laundry neatly in a reed basket. “We inherited our troubles.”
After the laundry was completed, we went into the hills, the way we used to, before I was married. Jestine was right; I’d been consumed with my new duties and hadn’t been a good friend. In truth, I’d missed her. We linked arms and chattered
THE WOMEN FROM THE congregation invited me to join them as a member of Blessings and Peace and Loving Deeds. This was an honor and in my mind, both unexpected and unwanted. All the same, I had little choice. Monsieur Petit was an esteemed member of the community, and I was his wife. At last my mother could be proud as I sat among the women from the best families. I overheard her speaking of me. At first I thought she was referring to my predecessor, but no, when she had said Madame Petit, whose house was so lovely, whose children were so well behaved, I realized she meant me.
After tea at Madame Halevy’s home, there was conversation regarding orphaned children and those of our faith who did not have luck with business or had fallen prey to illness. We planned dinners to raise funds for those in need and wrote up reports to present to all of the committee members. People who faltered were discussed at great length, for in a group such as this, any hint of wickedness was worth uncovering, including those men who dared to keep two wives: a Jewish wife and another wife, and perhaps another family, living near the docks. The scandal concerned Nathan Levy, born in Baltimore, but now a resident of Charlotte Amalie. Levy had been granted the honor of being the United States consul but was said to be dishonorable in his business dealings. The women seemed most concerned that he lived with an African woman named Sandrine, flaunting the relationship in public, treating her as though she were his wife. I’d seen them once when I was at the market with Adelle. She had stared after them, interested.
“My mother says it’s the marriage of a heron and a parrot,” I said to Adelle.
“Does she?” Adelle made a disapproving face. “Well, your mother knows nothing. They’re not birds. They’re people in love.”
Levy was a member of our congregation, and although there were several letters sent to the office of the United States Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, in Washington, no one dared to discuss this matter with Levy face-to-face, for he was a man of power who helped the business interests of those on the island. Rather than confront him, people crossed the street when they saw his woman or when she and Levy walked arm and arm near the harbor.
I went directly to Adelle’s house and found Jestine on the porch, folding laundry. “I thought you were too busy being married to come see me,” she said. “Aren’t you attending a meeting today?”
“I have three children. And I left the meeting.” I thought perhaps I would find excuses not to attend any meetings to come.
Jestine threw me a dark look. “You have one true friend,” she reminded me.
“Whereas you have two,” I teased. “How is Aaron?”
Jestine laughed, a catch in her voice. “I haven’t any idea.”
She said he had been avoiding her. Twice he had not shown up at their appointed meeting place. She’d stood alone in our garden. She’d thrown stones at my cousin’s window, but there had been no response.
“He’s a heavy sleeper,” I told her. “And you know as well as I do, he’s lazy.” It was, to be honest, part of his charm. He liked to take his time and have lengthy conversations with other businessmen, rather than work in our father’s shop, which he clearly thought beneath him.
Jestine shook her head. “I think someone’s turned him against me.”
We both knew who that someone was likely to be. My mother. “We should have never let him come with us,” I said to my friend. “We should have left him home when he begged to follow us. He was always a troublemaker.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Jestine stacked the laundry neatly in a reed basket. “We inherited our troubles.”
After the laundry was completed, we went into the hills, the way we used to, before I was married. Jestine was right; I’d been consumed with my new duties and hadn’t been a good friend. In truth, I’d missed her. We linked arms and chattered
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