Read Online Always & Forever: A Saga of Slavery and Deliverance (The Plantation Series Book 1) by Gretchen Craig - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gretchen Craig
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just now. Cleo didn’t know
what she knew. Or did she? People in the quarters would talk. Maybe Cleo had
always known. Maybe Josie was the only one who hadn’t understood. She stared at
the gray sky where more clouds gathered.
~~~
Everyone along the river began to watch the sky. While
Grand-mère and the overseer Mr. Gale worried about the crops, and Papa fretted
that his hunting was spoiled, Josie grieved for Maman and tried to understand
what her father had done. She watched him sometimes as he smoked his pipe on
the gallery or poured himself another brandy in the evening. Who was he after
all? She could not excuse him, and she felt the Papa she’d adored was a
stranger.
The rain let up for a while late in the morning, and Josie
wandered up the knoll to the little family cemetery. Only the sound of the big
river came to Josie through the trees. How lonely for Maman, she thought.
The storms had left their mark on the cemetery. One huge
puddle made an island of the crypt. Mud spattered the whitewashed stones.
Fallen twigs and leaves littered the mucky ground.
It simply wouldn’t do to have Maman’s final resting place so
bedraggled. Josie couldn’t find Elbow John, and most of the slaves were digging
run-off ditches in the fields. Cleo, she didn’t know where Cleo was, but Maman
would not want Cleo at her crypt anyway. Josie would clean it up herself.
Back in the house, Josie unrolled her stockings and rummaged
for her oldest shoes in the back of the wardrobe. She carried a bundle of rags
with her, found a trowel among the gardening tools in the carriage house, and
trudged back up the hill to the cemetery.
Josie sat for a moment on the little stone bench and tried
to feel her mother’s presence. She wanted to tell Maman how sorry she was she
had never understood what she suffered. Maman, humiliated all those years, Bibi
right under her own roof. How awful. No wonder Maman had sometimes been cruel.
Josie closed her eyes. She tried to remember her mother smiling and happy, but
she could not. The strongest image in her mind was of Maman staring at death,
afraid to meet God with bitterness in her heart.
Josie wiped her eyes. She crossed herself and prayed to the
Blessed Mother that Maman would find peace.
She stood up and eyed the little sea surrounding the crypt,
and then plunged in. The water poured into her old shoes, chilling her in spite
of the steamy heat. Forgive me, Maman, for what I’m about to do to my dress,
she thought. Then she dropped to her knees and began to trowel a channel to
drain the puddle.
Worms wiggled in the upturned earth, struggling to escape
from their flooded world. Josie didn’t mind worms. She and Cleo used to poke a
stick in the ground and then rub another stick against it to bring them to the
surface. When they had a pail full, Elbow John would take them fishing in the
bayou. How Maman would have fussed if she’d known, but Bibi had hidden the
soiled dresses from her. So many things she’d done with Cleo and Elbow John,
and Maman hadn’t known. Poor Maman. She had kept to her room so much. Josie was
sure her maman had never seen the early mist hovering over the bayou, or the
flight of a crane startled from its feeding.
“Mam’zelle.”
Josie started. Phanor DeBlieux stood not ten feet away. He
carried his rifle and a full bag over his shoulder.
“ Excusez-moi ,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten
you.”
“No, only startled,” she said. She raised herself from the
mud and hoped she hadn’t smeared dirt on her face when she’d pushed her hair
back. Somehow, muddy pants legs and all, Phanor DeBlieux looked good enough to
… Josie pulled herself back from that thought. “You’ve been hunting?”
“ Oui . Got myself a possum.” He set his rifle against
the pine tree and gestured toward the slave quarters. “Old Sam, he let me take
his hound with me into the woods, so I come by to bring him back.”
Phanor looked at the sodden ground all around
what she knew. Or did she? People in the quarters would talk. Maybe Cleo had
always known. Maybe Josie was the only one who hadn’t understood. She stared at
the gray sky where more clouds gathered.
~~~
Everyone along the river began to watch the sky. While
Grand-mère and the overseer Mr. Gale worried about the crops, and Papa fretted
that his hunting was spoiled, Josie grieved for Maman and tried to understand
what her father had done. She watched him sometimes as he smoked his pipe on
the gallery or poured himself another brandy in the evening. Who was he after
all? She could not excuse him, and she felt the Papa she’d adored was a
stranger.
The rain let up for a while late in the morning, and Josie
wandered up the knoll to the little family cemetery. Only the sound of the big
river came to Josie through the trees. How lonely for Maman, she thought.
The storms had left their mark on the cemetery. One huge
puddle made an island of the crypt. Mud spattered the whitewashed stones.
Fallen twigs and leaves littered the mucky ground.
It simply wouldn’t do to have Maman’s final resting place so
bedraggled. Josie couldn’t find Elbow John, and most of the slaves were digging
run-off ditches in the fields. Cleo, she didn’t know where Cleo was, but Maman
would not want Cleo at her crypt anyway. Josie would clean it up herself.
Back in the house, Josie unrolled her stockings and rummaged
for her oldest shoes in the back of the wardrobe. She carried a bundle of rags
with her, found a trowel among the gardening tools in the carriage house, and
trudged back up the hill to the cemetery.
Josie sat for a moment on the little stone bench and tried
to feel her mother’s presence. She wanted to tell Maman how sorry she was she
had never understood what she suffered. Maman, humiliated all those years, Bibi
right under her own roof. How awful. No wonder Maman had sometimes been cruel.
Josie closed her eyes. She tried to remember her mother smiling and happy, but
she could not. The strongest image in her mind was of Maman staring at death,
afraid to meet God with bitterness in her heart.
Josie wiped her eyes. She crossed herself and prayed to the
Blessed Mother that Maman would find peace.
She stood up and eyed the little sea surrounding the crypt,
and then plunged in. The water poured into her old shoes, chilling her in spite
of the steamy heat. Forgive me, Maman, for what I’m about to do to my dress,
she thought. Then she dropped to her knees and began to trowel a channel to
drain the puddle.
Worms wiggled in the upturned earth, struggling to escape
from their flooded world. Josie didn’t mind worms. She and Cleo used to poke a
stick in the ground and then rub another stick against it to bring them to the
surface. When they had a pail full, Elbow John would take them fishing in the
bayou. How Maman would have fussed if she’d known, but Bibi had hidden the
soiled dresses from her. So many things she’d done with Cleo and Elbow John,
and Maman hadn’t known. Poor Maman. She had kept to her room so much. Josie was
sure her maman had never seen the early mist hovering over the bayou, or the
flight of a crane startled from its feeding.
“Mam’zelle.”
Josie started. Phanor DeBlieux stood not ten feet away. He
carried his rifle and a full bag over his shoulder.
“ Excusez-moi ,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten
you.”
“No, only startled,” she said. She raised herself from the
mud and hoped she hadn’t smeared dirt on her face when she’d pushed her hair
back. Somehow, muddy pants legs and all, Phanor DeBlieux looked good enough to
… Josie pulled herself back from that thought. “You’ve been hunting?”
“ Oui . Got myself a possum.” He set his rifle against
the pine tree and gestured toward the slave quarters. “Old Sam, he let me take
his hound with me into the woods, so I come by to bring him back.”
Phanor looked at the sodden ground all around
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