Love Finds You in New Orleans, LA Read online

  “I didn’t mean in that way,” said André.

  Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

  “Maybe I did, but are you telling me you missed her expressive brown eyes, the curve of her lips, the hollows of her shoulders…”

  “No, I am certainly not blind to the fact that she is a beautiful young woman. It’s that she is not—”

  “She is not Lottie, is that what you were going to say?”

  “I was going to say that she is not someone I would be interested in,” Gabriel responded, though he felt the doubt he knew his cousin would hear in his voice.

  André did not respond.

  “The LeClercs have planned a birthday party for Charlotte. The yellow fever delayed her coming-out party, so they decided that it is time now, since she will be twenty.”

  “So, that is it then,” André said.

  “Yes, of course.” Gabriel wished he did not see pity in André’s eyes. For years, he had endured this pity from his cousin after Rosette sent his father away. Tonight it agitated him. Would he forever be frustrated in achieving his dreams?

  “I understand the desire to have something—something achievable. But Lottie will never be. You knew that from the day we first learned what de couleur meant. And, more importantly, what it did not mean.”

  Gabriel saw Alcee, not yet five, sitting on the parlor floor, Rosette’s favorite porcelain bowl filled with water by her side. The little girl held her hairbrush, dipped it into the water, and scrubbed her legs to “make the dirty go away.” Alcee had stopped trying to be white years ago. Maybe he should take a lesson from his sister.

  Chapter Nine

  ...........................

  “Why are Charlotte and Justine outside our cottage?” Rosette set the basket she had packed for the orphanage on the side table in the parlor.

  “Why are you asking this question?” Gabriel pulled on his light gray gloves. “You know they are not waiting for Alcee.” Had they not discussed Lottie that afternoon in the café, his mother would not be questioning her presence this afternoon. He realized, too late, that any time spent with her now would arouse Rosette’s suspicion.

  “On lave son linge sale en famille,” Rosette retorted in her angry-mother posture: one hand on her hip, the other free to wag a finger at him as she spoke. “Now that you have washed your dirty clothes in your own family, why are you dragging them down the banquette for all of Tremé?”

  “Charlotte does not know about my feelings for her, nor do I want her to. So I am not going to change what we do as friends because of the plans her grandparents are making.”

  “Do the LeClercs know where she is now? Do they know whom she is with?” Rosette had stopped the finger-wagging.

  “‘Ask me no questions, I will tell you no fibs,’” Gabriel said. He reached for the basket. “Oliver Goldsmith, She Stoops to Conquer.”

  “‘A froward man soweth strife: and a whisperer separateth chief friends.’” Rosette handed him his gray top hat. “Proverbs 16:28, the Bible.”

  * * * * *

  Lottie heard the tight, clipped voices of Gabriel and Rosette as she and Justine waited outside their home. If Justine overheard the tension, she prattled on as if she didn’t. When Gabriel walked out, the coil of anxiety in Lottie’s chest unwound. She feared the conversation between him and his mother might mean the visit would not happen. And the shame that now warmed her cheeks was because she could not deny that she cared more about seeing Gabriel than the children they were going to see.

  “So, ladies, are we ready?” He glanced from one to the other. “I will be a thorn between two roses today.”

  No thorn would be so well suited. His black frock coat wrapped itself around his shoulders and down the length of his body to his waist, where it tucked in right below his partially buttoned waistcoat. A long navy-blue silk cravat, fastened with a pin, wrapped around his neck and fell down the length of his chest.

  Justine touched the brooch at the neck of her peach dress then smoothed the layers of curls that grazed her shoulders and spilled from her pale-green bonnet. She looked up at Gabriel then quickly cast her eyes downward. “How very kind of you,” she said.

  How very coquettish of Justine. Perhaps she was practicing her flirtations on Gabriel…not that she would ever admit such a thing. Lottie almost asked her if she had missed that lesson in their deportment class, but what gave her pause was Gabriel’s reaction. Instead of joining Lottie in a mutual rolling of eyes over Justine’s obvious, cloying behavior, he didn’t even look in her direction.

  “Three roses,” Lottie said. “Agnes is joining us.”

  He lowered the basket, setting it on a concrete step. “I see.”

  Gabriel’s lack of confusion coupled with his lack of enthusiasm stunned Lottie. Agnes had never before joined them on a visit to the orphanages. Why wasn’t he at least curious as to why she was today?

  Justine, who could fill gaps until they choked with information, provided the unasked answer. “Lottie’s grandparents are visiting Judge Rost and his wife, Louise. They finished remodeling their plantation in Destrehan and invited the LeClercs.” She locked her arm with Lottie’s. “My parents said Lottie could stay in the city with us. And we’ve stayed so busy preparing for her birthday party—haven’t we, Lottie?—that I can hardly believe it is already Sunday afternoon. And Agnes is coming because she wants to be sure nothing happens to Lottie today, because her grandparents will be back tonight.” If Justine’s story had a cover, she could have closed it with “The End.”

  While Gabriel’s attention was focused on Justine, Lottie focused on him and waited for a reaction. But how could she look at him and not see the man who made her wish it was his arm linked with hers? If only she knew at what point in their friendship she’d begun to think of him differently. When had she begun to worry that standing next to him would make her insides melt like candle wax until she puddled on the ground? When had she begun to understand that her heart would ache? If she only knew and could return to that time, she could retreat.

  This morning, the relief of knowing she would be able to join Gabriel at the girls’ home without the nagging worry of her grand-parents finding out soured with disappointment.

  Gabriel surveyed the street. “So where is Agnes?”

  Lottie peered in the direction she expected to see Agnes appearing. “She should be here soon. The three of us left my house at the same time.”

  She untied her bonnet—a selection by Justine, whose daughters might one day resemble walking peacocks if left up to her. White, with lavender ribbons and white feathers, the bonnet crushed the looped hair she had allowed Justine to gather. Another ridiculous decision by Lottie in their preparations for church. She welcomed the breeze that cooled her scalp and regretted not having her parasol so she could free herself from the annoying headpiece.

  “Agnes stopped so many times on the way, she finally told us to run along and she would meet us.” Lottie avoided including that what continued to interfere with their walk was people who wanted to talk about the upcoming party.

  But Justine piped up, just as Agnes’s white parasol turned the corner, “I didn’t think we’d arrive here before sunset with all the questions Agnes had to keep answering about Charlotte’s party. The LeClercs must be inviting the entire city.”

  Gabriel spotted Agnes and put on his hat. “No, Justine, not the entire city.”

  And that’s when Lottie understood what had changed in Gabriel.

  * * * * *

  “Oh, I am so glad you are finally home.” Alcee closed her book and jumped up to meet Gabriel as he stepped into the back gallery.

  “Finally?” From experience, he knew that if his sister used that word, there was a plan waiting to happen. But the only plan of any interest to him required a meal and a bed. “Is your book not interesting to you?” He removed his coat and draped it over the arm of the couch. “Where is Maman?”

  She cocked her head and drilled Gabriel’s face with her eyes.
“What happened?” She followed as he walked to the dining room.

  “Nothing.” He lifted the lids of the serving bowls on the sideboard. Jambalaya in one, green beans in the other. “You didn’t answer my question. Either question.” He served himself a mound of jambalaya then sat at the table.

  “I’m reading Mansfield Park, and Fanny Price has just been pitifully cast off by her parents to live with relatives in Northampton—”

  Gabriel held up his hand before Alcee recounted every chapter of a novel he thought questionable for her to be reading. “Do you have permission to read that novel?”

  She folded her arms over the book, her head held high. “No one said I couldn’t read it.”

  It impressed him that, despite the fault in her logic, Alcee demonstrated she could assert herself. That quality in her personality reminded him of the one person he most wanted to think about the least. “That is between you and Mother anyway. Assuming you are honest with her and tell her that you are reading it.” He set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Speaking of which, you have not told me where she is.”

  Alcee set the book on the table and removed the two ivory combs holding her hair away from her face. She had not yet reached the age where her hair would never be seen, except for Mardi Gras masquerades, on the streets of New Orleans.

  “She went to Serafina’s. Now, I have answered all your questions. You have not answered the only one I asked.”

  Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “Ah, that’s where you are wrong. I did respond to your question.”

  “No, that’s where you are wrong.” Alcee’s slow smile and narrowed eyes should have been warning that she intended to trump her brother. “You rarely use ‘Maman’ when referring to our mother. I have only heard you use it at times you were pained or worried. Answering the question like a homme de paille? It is not like you to be a man who intends to mislead.”

  Alcee had inherited Rosette’s ability to sift through pretense, which was both a blessing and a curse, for them and everyone else. But Gabriel did not believe it proper to be confessing his feelings about Lottie to his sister, especially since she was not yet thirteen. Alcee was not too young to comprehend the social order of the world in which she lived. Society’s laws could be broken, but too often those who broke them were fractured most. Even though love had no color, it resided in the hearts of people who did.

  * * * * *

  “I dunno what wear me out most. Rocking those babies or listening to Miss Justine from there to here. Her folks might oughta find some beau for her can’t hear too good. That the onliest way that man survive.” Agnes shook her head and reopened her parasol after they left Justine’s. She tilted it to shade both herself and Lottie, whose bonnet had once again found its way off her head as they walked the short distance home.

  “Justine ought not know he can’t hear, because she will start screaming like a steamboat whistle to get his attention,” Lottie added. “I’ll be sure to suggest your idea to Madame Dumas the next time I see her.”

  “And you be sure to get to the slave market to buy me after I get sold for saying such a thing.”

  Lottie smiled. “They would have to sell me too. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Agnes threaded her arm through Lottie’s. “We not going to hafta find out. I know you’d never be no disrespectful person and tell that poor girl’s parents that.”

  “Of course not. Because,” she paused to take a breath to push down the storm she felt rising in her chest, “I do what I’m told. Whether I want to or not.”

  Agnes stopped, reached for Lottie’s chin, and turned her face toward her. “Now, we almost home. Maybe your grandparents be there already. Maybe not. Either way, you try not to be so sad all the time. I know this is not what you want.”

  Lottie’s chin quivered, and Agnes pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and blotted Lottie’s eyes and cheeks. “It’s so unfair. They’re going to arrange this marriage, and I have no choice. None. I might as well be…”

  “A slave?” Agnes gave Lottie the damp handkerchief and closed the parasol.

  “I’m so sorry, Agnes. I didn’t mean….”

  “Well, you real close to the truth, child. Real close to understanding life without too many choices. But you gotta start trusting God to find a way, you hear?”

  Lottie nodded, though she wanted to ask Agnes how God was going to make Gabriel white so he could be the man her grandparents would choose.

  They neared the house and saw Abram, his hands shielding his eyes, looking up and down the street. As soon as he spotted them, he headed in their direction.

  Lottie grabbed Agnes’s hand. “Why is he waiting for us? Something must be wrong.”

  “That not the face of trouble,” Agnes said and pointed at Abram, his mouth stretched into such a wide smile that even his eyes disappeared behind his cheeks.

  “We got one more day,” said Abram. “I wanted to tell you right off.”

  Lottie was as confused as Agnes looked.

  “That other family the LeClercs followed to the plantation, they come by the house and say they staying one more day.”

  Lottie felt as if she’d just been handed a gift. “Can we not go to the house yet? At least for now? We have time to stroll along the levee, and the weather could hardly be more perfect. And we’d still have time to be home before curfew when that dratted cannon pounds the city with its noise, telling everyone to go inside.”

  “What you think?” Abram asked Agnes, who held her parasol like a cane and tapped the end on the cobblestones. He reached out and stilled her hand with his. “You waking up the devil?”

  “I hopes not,” she said. “Some days I think somebody already did.”

  “So, Agnes, can we go? Please?”

  When she still didn’t answer, Abram told her, “Now, Agnes, you know we can’t let Miz Lottie promenade all over creation without chaperones.”

  “You right. If our Charlotte tell us she was going to go sashaying down the levee, we hafta be there with her.”

  “Abram, if I were still five years old, I would hug you right here on the street,” Lottie said.

  “Miz Lottie, you just hug me with your heart. That be good enough.”

  Chapter Ten

  ...........................

  6 February 1841

  Dear Mama and Papa,

  Last night I didn’t write because I stayed with Justine’s family while Grand-mère and Grand-père traveled to Destrehan. Grand-mère said her friend Louise was one of fourteen children in the family. How much time they must spend cleaning dishes after meals! Since they did not arrive home tonight, Agnes sleeps in the sickroom downstairs because she does not want me alone in the house.

  Abram and Agnes and I strolled on the levee and watched the sun as it began to retire. This winter is unseasonably warm, and the cool evening air was a welcome relief to staying within the confines of this room. I was reminded of the fascination I had as a little girl, being brought to watch the rumbling steamboats with their deep whistling horns and all the cargo ships like metal monsters burping out steel containers and wooden crates or eating bales of cotton.

  I confess, I was relieved by my grandparents staying at Destrehan, and Papa, please forgive me, for I know they are your parents and you loved them as I love you. You know Grand-mère would not approve of my having visited the girls’ orphanage today even though Justine and Agnes joined Gabriel and me. I don’t think Gabriel will invite me again when he makes these trips. I told him about the party, and he was not the same Gabriel afterward. I wanted to tell him I understood, because I do not feel as if I am the same person either. For an instant today, his actions brought me a glimpse of joy. Surely, I thought, he must care about me to be so different. Then it saddened me. How odd to discover that the only way you learn about someone’s feelings is when the person will never be free to express them.

  How I wish you could be here. My unanswered questions are consta
nt companions. Seeing how distressed Grand-mère becomes when I want for more information about the two of you, I decided it would be wise to simply discontinue the asking. Grand-mère brings me for dress fittings, Mama, and I asked her about your coming-out party and engagement to Papa. She tells me he met you at the theatre, where most of the parties occurred. And that you dressed beautifully. I asked her to show me where they lived, and she said, Papa, that you traveled to Paris for business, and I was born there.

  She does not discuss how or when we came to New Orleans. On All Saints’ Day, when many in the city are placing flowers at the graves of loved ones, Grand-mère remains at home. She refuses to allow me to visit, even with Agnes. I have thought, lately, that I should find a way to the cemetery on my own.

  If only I could know, Mama, whether you feared becoming a wife, or if you, like Justine, counted the days until your coming-out. How did you come to care about Papa? Maybe my feelings for Gabriel are not love. Perhaps I confuse the love between friends with that of a husband and a wife. We spent so much of our childhood together. I have come to trust that he would protect me, and he believes women can do so much more than we are allowed to do. He encourages me to be true to myself. I know that when I am with him, I feel as if I am home. Is it foolish to believe a husband would be a friend?

  My party is February 27, now only a few weeks away. Agnes says having it on my birthday makes it more special and blessed, though I am sure she was trying to console me. Grand-mère is taking me to my final dress fitting in a few days. I must admit, when Madame Olympe stands me in front of the mirror, I feel as if I am a princess. Madame said it is a dress to attract a prince. We shall see.

  My love and affection,

  Genevieve Charlotte

  * * * * *

  Lifting her white silk dress higher than any woman of low breeding would consider, much less one trained in the social graces, Lottie raced through the Place d’Armes, the train of her gown wet from weeds untrampled by her soft leather shoes. Grand-père shouted words in French as she approached and then caught Grand-mère as she swooned in his arms. Abram and Agnes held the lines to the steamship, preventing it from leaving for Paris. Exhausted, Lottie pushed herself to run faster, but she could not bridge the distance. It was as if her feet spun the earth underneath them, leaving her in the same place. She was afraid that if she stopped, she might fall over the earth’s edge.