CHAPTER
six
After a few weeks at Dolly’s, Anna had settled into the morning routine. She had just filled one platter with hot biscuits and another with smoky bacon and now was peeking into the dining room, watching Jesse and Si deep in conversation. Her husband mimicked the motion of casting a line, and she knew the two men were onto their favorite subject: fishing.
“Honey, are we ready with the biscuits and bacon?” Dolly had a coffeepot in one hand and a big bowl of scrambled eggs in the other. Evelyn was coming behind her with a tureen of grits.
“Ready for the table,” Anna answered.
The women paraded into the dining room and delivered breakfast. Once Si offered thanks, the usual morning chatter began.
“I thought maybe we could go for a drive or something today,” Anna said to Jesse as the others talked about the latest news of the war. “Dolly said there’s a good restaurant right on the river in Childersburg—might be fun?”
Jesse moved his food around with his fork, looking down at his plate, and Anna knew he was about to deliver bad news.
“What’s the matter?”
“Well . . . it’s just that I promised Si I’d help him paint the boardwalk over at the lake today.”
“But why? You’re so busy during the week—I just thought since it’s Saturday . . . Never mind.”
“Anna—”
Jesse was interrupted by Dolly, who was making a round with the coffeepot. “Can I fill your cup, honey?”
“Thanks, Dolly.”
“Now, Jesse, if you all had plans today, don’t you let my ol’ boardwalk get in the way,” Si said. “I can manage just fine.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jesse said. “I can help—this morning, I mean. But I’d like to save the afternoon for Anna.”
“Well, alrighty then.”
Anna gave him a smile. Back before all their troubles started, he couldn’t steal enough time with her. When she would drive his lunch to the fields, he would beg her to stay “just for a little while and keep me company.” She knew what that meant. It’s a wonder that corn ever got harvested. Now there always seemed to be a wall between them. But with the women of the loop giving her courage, she was hoping to take it down, one stubborn stone at a time if necessary. She would just have to be patient a little longer.
Anna had walked Jesse to the lake after breakfast and thought she might find Daisy on the creek bank. But she wasn’t there. A morning breeze was stirring the oaks and the pines overhead, their peaceful sighs blending with the gurgle and splash of creek water over flat rocks. She tossed two oak leaves into the water and watched them float away, enjoying the peaceful pleasure of seeing them ride the creek together. But then the current suddenly pulled them apart, and Anna could feel it drawing her down too. Maybe a visit with Lillian would cheer her up.
As she reached her friend’s porch, Lillian beckoned to her. “Good morning, Anna.”
“Good morning,” Anna said, taking a seat on the porch. “It’s a beautiful day!”
“Yes, I know—I can feel it. The sun is especially bright, the sky a glorious blue, I imagine.”
“That’s exactly right.”
“And how is your Jesse faring?”
“Better—a little better each day.”
“And I divine Miss Anna is happier because of it?”
“She’s trying. How about you? How are you doing?”
“Fine, just fine. Old Southern women don’t change much. We just rock slower and slower till we don’t rock anymore.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re still rocking.”
Lillian laughed. “Ha! Me too!”
They sat quietly together until Lillian said, “What is it you came to tell me, Anna?”
Anna thought for a moment before she answered. “Have you ever tossed leaves into a creek and watched them float downstream—before you lost your sight, I mean?”
Lillian smiled and nodded. “I can recall such a vision.”
“I was on the creek before I came here, just looking for something to occupy my mind, I guess. I dropped two oak leaves in the water to see where they would go. At first they stayed together—they were side by side when they rode a tiny little waterfall between two rocks—but then the current pulled them apart and they went their separate ways. Why couldn’t they just glide down the Tanyard together?”
“Leaves are at the mercy of the current, Anna, but you and Jesse are not. You can choose whether to float wherever it takes you or swim against it. And you can choose whether to travel together or let the rocks divide you. That’s a decision you must make together. Otherwise you could land on opposite sides of the river.”
“I don’t know what to do, Lillian.”
Her friend handed her a handkerchief from her pocket. “Sometimes we must take a look back before we can see the way forward.”
“What do you mean?”
“What is your fondest memory of your time with Jesse—the one that rises above all the others?”
Anna blotted her eyes with Lillian’s handkerchief and smiled. “It happened at a little country store when we were teenagers. We hadn’t gone on our first date yet, but we were ‘noticing each other,’ as my grandmother says. I had walked to the store to sell eggs, and Jesse was at the gas pump, filling his father’s pickup. He smiled and waved at me. I smiled and waved back. When I came out of the store, he was still there, waiting for me—for me. You can’t imagine how many times I had sat in the stands at school, watching him play baseball or football, wondering what it would be like if he actually talked to me. Jesse had pulled the truck under a shade tree and lowered the tailgate. He wanted to know if I’d like to sit for a little while and have a Coke with him. We talked so long that Mother sent one of my brothers to see what had become of me.”
“And why does that day with Jesse stand out?”
Anna watched a butterfly flutter around a flowerpot on Lillian’s porch. “I guess it’s because . . . that was the beginning. It was the first time we really talked, the first time we were alone together, with no one else around to come between us. And it was the first time I knew what it was like to have somebody look at me as if he could see me all the way through. I remember thinking, ‘So this is what it would be like to be part of somebody, to belong to somebody and have them belong to me.’”
“Perhaps you need to remind Jesse of that day.”
“What good would that do?”
Lillian smiled. “When we are lost, it can be quite helpful to retrace our steps.”
“Can you tell I’m smiling?”
“Ha!” Lillian clapped her hands together. “Good! I would much rather hear smiles than tears.”
“Let’s talk about something besides me and my troubles. Can I ask you about a story Dolly told me when I first came here—about a man named Andrew Sinclair?”
“Ah yes—Andre Chauvin, the river pirate.”
Anna gasped. “You mean you believe the story?”
“Don’t you?”
“I want to.”
“Well, by all means, do.”
“Can you tell me what you know—if you don’t mind, I mean?”
“Of course. Let me think just a minute and see what I might recollect.” Lillian’s eyes narrowed, staring straight ahead as she rocked back and forth. At last she said, “My mother and father knew the Chauvins—before they married, I mean.”
“They did?”
“Yes. I remember Mama always said she found it hard to believe that one so handsome as Andre could ever have been a river rogue. And Papa would answer, ‘Dear woman, that’s likely what made him so good at it.’” Lillian smiled at the memory.
“So they were friends, then—your parents and the Chauvins?”
Lillian thought for a moment and nodded. “My father grew up in Louisiana.”
“I guess that’s what he had in common with Andre?”
Lillian’s eyes narrowed again, as if she were trying to picture her father and the pirate together. “Yes. Louisiana—and the great joy Papa took from being on water. Creek, river, lake, or pond—he loved them all. I guess he missed the bayous of his childhood. My mother grew up here.”
“So she would’ve known Catherine from church maybe?”
Lillian thought about it and again nodded. “That sounds right.”
“Did your mother tell you anything about Catherine? Anything you wouldn’t mind telling me? I know it was a long time ago, but is there anything else you can remember?”
Lillian looked straight ahead and silently rocked back and forth.
“Dolly said Catherine’s father arranged the marriage?”
Lillian’s expression changed, and Anna feared she had somehow offended her friend. “I’m sorry, Lillian. Did I say something wrong?”
Lillian’s face softened as she closed her eyes and shook her head. “No, dear Anna. ’Tisn’t you that stirs my anger. ’Tis what could have befallen young Catherine had Andre Chauvin been cut from a mean cloth.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Her father, the good reverend, effectively sold his own daughter to a river pirate. That greedy old rascal was the worst sort of clergyman, my mother always said—drawn to the power of the cloth but wholly lacking in the compassion. The pirate wanted a wife; the minister wanted a fine new pastorium and traded his own daughter for the money to build it, without even bothering to find out who exactly was purchasing his own flesh and blood. That happened before I was born, but Papa never could speak of that preacher without swearing. He could not abide hypocrisy.”
“How could Catherine’s father do that—make her marry somebody she barely knew just so he could live in a big house? How old was she?” Anna had no idea why her heart broke for a young bride who had been dead for years.
“You feel it, don’t you? Her fear, her sense of betrayal? Poor girl wasn’t even twenty yet.”
Anna nodded, forgetting that Lillian couldn’t see her.
“Only a woman understands. The reverend had visions of overflowing coffers, and he didn’t care at all what Catherine might have to endure. He planned to use her to keep the money coming in. Her mother was just as bad. But they both miscalculated.”
“How?”
Lillian smiled. “They misjudged Andre and underestimated Catherine. The two of them never set foot in her father’s church again or gave him another red cent, and good for them! But, of course, they both disappeared.”
“Well . . . what about servants? Rich people living in a house that big—they must’ve had servants who knew what happened to them.”
“Only one, a Creole cook and housekeeper. She lived in that little shotgun house right out yonder at the edge of that cotton field.” Lillian pointed in the general direction of an unpainted house she could not see, barely visible to Anna from the overgrown hedgerow at the far edge of the field. “The Creole woman appeared in Alabama with Andre and disappeared when he and Catherine did. I can’t help but wonder if there might be some small piece of their story in that little shack. But I’m far too blind and feeble to get there. You might have a look, though.”
“Do you think Andre and Catherine escaped through a secret passageway in Dolly’s house?”
Lillian smiled and shook her head. “Who can say after all these years? I don’t know that they would’ve needed one. A pirate would’ve made it his business to know the waterways around here, and Andre could’ve easily followed the Tanyard through the woods to the Coosa River. All he would’ve needed was a boat and a map tucked away somewhere beyond the slough, where the creek deepens on its way to the river, and he and Catherine could slip off into the night. I doubt there’s any passageway.”
“Do you believe they drowned once they got to the river?”
“I do not.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Lillian frowned. “I cannot say. But I know it in my bones.”
Anna sighed. “It’s just so . . .”
“Romantic?” Lillian finished for her.
“Yes!”
“I thought so too when I was your age. But now, we must remember Andre’s wicked past. All of his riches were stolen.”
“Yes, but maybe he had a reason for doing what he did. Or maybe Catherine changed him.”
Lillian smiled. “Perhaps.”
“I’ve taken too much of your time. Can I do anything for you?”
“No, my dear. Sunny days speed by. Enjoy them every one. Be on your journey, and fare thee well.”
Anna returned to Dolly’s just in time to see her sprinting across the front yard, carrying a picnic basket.
“Anna—thank goodness!” Dolly called to her. “Could you carry Si and Jesse their lunch for me? I know they must be starvin’ to death, as early as they got goin’, but I’ve got two pies about ready to come outta the oven. They’ll get burnt to a crisp if I don’t keep an eye on ’em.”
“Happy to.”
“Thank you, honey.” Dolly handed Anna the basket and hurried back to the house.
Anna delivered lunch to Si and Jesse, who had painted their way almost all the way down the boardwalk, and then reported back to Dolly, who asked if she would mind gathering some vegetables for supper. Now she was making her way down a long row of green beans, stopping occasionally to listen to the doves and the mockingbirds.
“That you in there, Anna?” She looked up to see Daisy standing at the end of her row. She was wearing her overalls and a straw hat.
“Hey!” Anna waved to her.
“Want some comp’ny?”
“Sure!”
Daisy laid her sketchpad on the grass, picked up a garden basket, and joined Anna in the green beans. “My land!” she said as she started picking. “How many rows did they plant?”
“I counted six.”
“They must really like these things.”
The two of them silently filled their baskets for a few seconds before Anna said, “It sure feels good to do something—something to help, I mean.”
“We still talkin’ about pole beans?”
Anna smiled and shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“Jesse wouldn’t let you help with the farm?”
“When it was going strong, sure. But after everything started coming apart, he blamed himself so much that I guess he thought he had to be the one to fix it.”
“Stubborn breed, those husbands.”
“Hey, I don’t think I ever asked you why you came here to start with. Did Charlie get a job at the Army plant before he enlisted?”
“No, I got a job there after he enlisted. No way could I sit in that empty farmhouse all day wonderin’ what was happenin’ to him over there. But by the time I made up my mind to get a job, the shipyards down on the coast weren’t hirin’. So when I heard about jobs in Alabama, I packed that same suitcase I threatened Charlie with and drove myself here. I worked at the plant up until—well, up until I got that telegram.”
“Don’t you want to go home to Mississippi? I mean, what about your farm?”
Daisy stopped picking and turned to face Anna. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you what kinda person you’re associatin’ with. Every mornin’ when I wake up and every night before I go to bed, I look up at the sky and ask Charlie to please forgive me for what I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I sold it. I sold our farm.”
“But why?”
“The thought o’ goin’ back there all by myself and knowin’ that he died tryin’ to save a piece o’ land . . . I couldn’t stand it. I just couldn’t. Every time I looked at those fields, I’d be thinkin’ that Charlie gave his life for ’em—and I let him do it. I let him, Anna. So when the bank called and made one last offer, I took it. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. Charlie was brave enough to die for our farm, and I wasn’t even brave enough to live on it.”
“I never thought about it before,” Anna said. “Would I want our farm if Jesse weren’t there with me? I don’t think I could stand the sight of it. And if Charlie was anywhere near as stubborn as every man I know, nothing you said or did would’ve stopped him from going. Even if you could’ve talked him out of enlisting, he would’ve been drafted like all the other boys. It’s not your fault he died, Daisy.”
“Sure feels like it.”
“Well, it’s not.”
Both of them returned to filling their baskets.
“Even without your farm, don’t you want to go back to Mississippi?” Anna asked after they had been quiet for a little while. She couldn’t fathom staying in Alabama without Jesse. She knew she would be on the first bus back to Illinois if she should ever find herself in Daisy’s situation, God forbid.
Daisy shook her head. “My folks are the type that believe once you’re outta the nest, you don’t fly back. Besides, there’s way too much Charlie there. Our old church, our old friends—just the thought o’ facin’ all that stuff makes me feel sick to my stomach. His family didn’t take too kindly to me sellin’ the farm. It’s easier on ever’body—his folks and mine—if I’m not around. I guess I’m sorta hidin’ out. Plus I like Miss Ella. Her house is a lot smaller than Si and Dolly’s, so I’m her only boarder. We both like tendin’ to our own knittin’ and don’t get on each other’s nerves.”
Anna shooed away a dragonfly that was fluttering around her basket. “Dolly said you’ve got four brothers, just like me.”
“Yeah,” Daisy said. “But yours don’t seem to have affected you the same way mine did, what with you pickin’ beans in a skirt.”
Anna smiled. “Not much for dresses?”
“I used to like dressin’ up for Charlie. Just don’t have the desire anymore. I’d feel like I was disrespectin’ him if I got all gussied up when he ain’t here to see it.”
Reaching the end of their row, Daisy and Anna set down their overflowing baskets, grabbed two empty ones, and waded into the tall squash plants.
“Did your brothers get called up?” Anna asked.
“Just the one closest to me. His name’s Mack. I write to him every week. The others were too old for the draft. Did yours have to go?”
“All but George, the oldest,” Anna said. “I haven’t written the others as much since we moved down here, and I feel awful about it. I need to get my letters going again.”
“Well, I’m sure they understand you’re dealin’ with a lot yourself.”
“You really think so?”
Again, Daisy stopped picking and looked at Anna. “You mind if I make a little observation? You’re mighty hard on yourself. You can’t fix everything for everybody. You can’t be the one that makes all the clouds go away.”
Anna thought it over. “You know, you’re the first person who ever said that to me. Most of the time, whatever I do for my parents or Jesse . . . it just never seems to be enough.”
“That notion comin’ from you or them?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think it comes from Jesse. He’s happy with whatever I want to do—at least he used to be. I have no idea what he thinks now.”
“Anna, you gotta take this bull by the horns. I know it’s hard. But you two can’t keep goin’ on like a coupla strangers. Just get him off to yourself, take a deep breath, and out with it, girl! Tell him you’re done with this nonsense. You’re his wife and you mean to have a husband again. Just give it to him straight. Men can’t decipher hints and moods, so you gotta put what you’re feelin’ in a cast-iron skillet and hit ’em over the head with it.”
Anna giggled. “Will you come with me when I do it—maybe help me lift the skillet?”
“Gladly. It’s time to fish or cut bait, sister.”
“Guess I need to be bold like Catherine.”
“Who’s that?”
“A girl who lived here a long time ago. Has anybody around here told you the story of Catherine O’Dwyer and Andre Chauvin?”
Daisy looked puzzled. “Andre Chauvin—you mean the river pirate? What’s he got to do with this place?”
Now Anna was confused. “If you don’t know about him from here, where do you know him from?”
“Everybody in the Delta grew up hearin’ about the pirates on the Mississippi River. Me and Mack used to climb all over Daddy’s bass boat, pretendin’ we were shipmates on Stack Island—that’s where a lot of ’em hid out. Andre Chauvin had his own hideout, a place called Rockaway Cave. He was the one that drove our history teachers crazy.”
“How come?”
“They wanted us to believe that all pirates were wicked thieves and murderers, but we all thought Chauvin was a hero, no matter what the teachers said. They even made us pray about it a few times.”
“Why did the kids think he was a hero?”
Daisy paused to swat at a mosquito on her arm and then rearranged the squash in her basket to make room for a few more. “There was no record of him actually killin’ anybody. He threatened to kill people all the time, but he always managed to talk ’em into givin’ up their cargo before he had to do anything drastic. And he never took anything from poor people like fishermen and farmers—robbed mostly the timber barons that swindled a lotta Delta people outta their land. And then at Christmastime, money would just turn up on those poor families’ doorsteps. That’s why all the boat captains on the Mississippi called Chauvin the River Robin.”
“Well, there’s a chance your River Robin built Dolly’s house,” Anna said.
“Are you kiddin’ me?”
While they topped off their baskets, Anna relayed the story of Chauvin and Catherine.
“Well, I’ll be danged,” Daisy said. “First rainy day, you and me might need to do a little snoopin’ in Dolly’s attic.”
“You read my mind. Remember I told you about Lillian, the lady I like to visit around the loop?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, her parents knew the Chauvins. She says their only servant was a Creole woman who lived in that little shotgun house at the far edge of the cotton field across from her house. The woman disappeared with Andre and Catherine. Lillian says we might find something at her place.”
“I’m game,” Daisy said.
Anna blotted her damp forehead with the back of her hand. “Let’s go inside and get something cool to drink.”
The two of them carried their heaping baskets to Dolly’s kitchen, talking all the way about a shotgun house and hidden treasure and a pirate’s beautiful young bride.
“Well, hello, Daisy!” Dolly said. “What a nice surprise!”
“Hey, Dolly. I spotted Anna in your garden on my way to the creek.”
“Would you all like some fresh lemonade?”
“Just pour it over my head,” Daisy said. “It’s hot as blue blazes out there.”
“I think I’ll have some with you.” Dolly took a pitcher from the icebox and poured everybody a glass as they all sat down around the kitchen table.
“How’s Ella’s rheumatism?” Dolly asked.
“About the same,” Daisy said. “She still does pretty much what she wants to except in damp weather. Never feels good when it’s rainy.”
“I reckon not.”
Evelyn came into the kitchen. “Do I hear the civilized conversation of women?”
“Well, I don’t know how civilized we are, but we’re conversin’ alright,” Dolly said. “Have a seat and I’ll get you some lemonade.”
“No, no—I can wait on myself.” Evelyn poured herself some lemonade and joined the group.
“Evelyn, I don’t think you’ve met Daisy—she lives just around the loop,” Dolly said.
“Same here.”
“And what is our topic?” Evelyn asked.
“We hadn’t rightly settled on one,” Dolly answered.
“Well, allow me to take the lead,” Evelyn said. “Men are crazy.”
All the women laughed.
Dolly picked up a copy of the Progressive Farmer Si had left on the table and fanned herself. “Honey, you’ll need to come up with somethin’ newsier than that to hold our attention.”
“Honestly, Harry can come up with more schemes that involve things for me to do. The latest is a nursery. He says I would need to run the greenhouse—which neither of us knows a thing about—and he would be ‘in sales.’ It is unclear to me whom our customers might be, as everyone out here grows everything from seed and has absolutely no need for a nursery.”
“What on earth put that notion into his head?” Dolly asked.
“He saw an ad for a greenhouse in a magazine.” Evelyn rolled her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade. “I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on him. He spent his whole life studying, teaching, and playing music, and now he’s making ammunition in a factory. He’s just hoping to find a way back to our old life, I suppose.”
Anna held the cold glass of lemonade against her cheek, still rosy from the sun. “It’s the same with Jesse. He’s trying so hard to get us back to where we were before. But I’m not sure that’s possible. Everything’s changing so fast.”
“Tell me about it,” Daisy said.
The table got suddenly quiet as Anna and Dolly tried to figure out what to say, while Evelyn was completely in the dark.
Daisy looked around the table. “Come on, ladies. You’re makin’ me feel like a bulldog in a beauty parlor.” Then she turned to Evelyn and said matter-of-factly, “My husband got killed in the war.”
“Oh!” Evelyn exclaimed. “Well, I am just an idiot. Please forgive me, Daisy.”
“Nothin’ to forgive. If Charlie was here, he’d be drivin’ me as batty as your husbands drive you. Y’all have got to promise not to treat me different or I’m not gonna swill lemonade with you anymore.”
Evelyn offered Daisy her hand. “On behalf of the group, I accept your terms.” The two shook on it.
“Give us a progress report on the lake, Dolly,” Evelyn said.
“I can help there,” Anna chimed in. “Two really sweaty men are almost through painting the boardwalk.”
“Mercy.” Dolly shook her head. “Si says that as soon as they finish that, he’ll start fillin’ the lake. I can’t imagine it—a lake where there didn’t used to be one. Will people come to a lake just because we put one there? Then again, it’s already hotter than usual, and here it is just April. I don’t know what we’ll do if nobody comes—and I don’t know what we’ll do if ever’body comes. I hope we can go on and make all the money for our tax bill this summer so I don’t have to worry about it all the way through Christmas. We cut it mighty close last year.”
“I have every confidence that your new enterprise will be a success,” Evelyn assured her.
“Why, thank you, Evelyn. Still, how’s Si gonna run a lake and a skatin’ rink without any help, and how am I gonna run a boardin’house and help him over there?”
“We’ll pitch in,” Anna said.
Daisy and Evelyn nodded in agreement.
Evelyn dramatically lifted her lemonade glass. “I propose a toast—to the ladies of the lake!”
“To the ladies of the lake!” The others laughed, clinked their glasses, and saluted the sisterhood that Dolly’s house had conjured.