Revelation: Good management and coordination
bring about a good relationship.
December 4, 1814
As prearranged, Marguerite and Catherine met at Rose Zabette’s coffee stand in front of the cathedral.
“I am so grateful to you for your help, Madame Caresse.”
“Whatever assistance we can provide, Madame de Trahan, my friends and neighbors are committed to this effort.”
“Please call me Marguerite; we will be colleagues, after all.”
“And I am Catherine.”
The two women sat down with their tiny cups of café au lait and pastries.
“We will be asking for donations of sheets, towels, blankets, and even petticoats, which can be cut into bandages,” said Marguerite.
“Good,” replied Catherine. “For the best results, please see that all contributions are washed in boiling water and dried in the sun, before storing them in panniers that have been cleaned with ammonia.”
Marguerite raised her eyebrows questioningly but agreed. “All right,” she said, and then she smiled. “And here is my list of the Creole women volunteers and their city homes. Each one has indicated what kinds of supplies she can provide, and those who are underlined will also be prepared to care for the wounded in their homes.”
“Thank you,” Catherine said, looking at the list. “I have a list of volunteers who have offered their services to nurse at the Ursuline convent. My daughter, Suzanne, is setting up a timetable.”
“Excellent! I will alert Sister Angelique, who is supervising this project.”
Catherine smiled. “I recognize the name; I believe she was one of Suzanne’s instructors when she was attending the Ursuline school.”
“Your daughter, she was a good student?”
“Oui, when she was interested in the subject.”
Marguerite smiled. “We also must provide information for Millie, the young woman who volunteered to drive the wagon. She will need to know how many patients each place can accommodate, as well as which supplies should be distributed and where.”
“Suzanne will be happy to figure it out; she has a good head for numbers and organization.”
“Like her father,” said Marguerite.
There was an uncomfortable pause, as both women looked down at the table.
“Yes, like Jacques,” agreed Catherine.
“This is awkward; please forgive me. I did not know—Jacques has never mentioned his relationship to you or Suzanne.”
Catherine smiled. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Please don’t feel ill at ease about the past. Jacques and I were both young at the time, but we knew we weren’t in love. We did enjoy each other’s company, though, simply as good friends.”
“Were you upset when he stopped seeing you?”
“I understood his reasoning; he didn’t want the complications of two families. Life as a new husband and running the plantation by himself was difficult. But he fulfilled all of his plaçage obligations and, I might add, was generous in his provisions for us. Suzanne has been well educated, and I have always had enough money to develop my healing skills, as well as take care of our home. In fact, thanks partly to your husband, I have a nice bank account for myself!”
“Mother, businesswoman, knowledgeable in medicines and herbs . . . You are a remarkable woman, Catherine!”
“Thank you. I’m grateful to have been blessed in many ways.”
Marguerite continued, “And I know that you have experience in caring for patients . . .” She paused. “Plus, I have also heard that you are a midwife!”
“Yes, I have delivered many of the babies of free women of color.” Catherine looked around at the passersby. “They are my friends and neighbors. Now I’m even midwifing for their daughters.”
“So I’ve heard—your reputation for successful birthing is well known.”
Catherine cocked her head and asked, “Are you concerned about your baby’s birth, Marguerite? You appear to be in very good health.”
“I am. And I can feel the baby’s movements. Which is good, right?”
Catherine nodded.
Marguerite continued, “I want so desperately to give Jacques a son. But my time is running out. I tried for years to become pregnant, but it just didn’t happen. That’s why I came to you for the black cohosh. Both times! But the doctor said that, given my age, this might be—in fact, he said it should be—my last pregnancy. And now, with this awful war going on . . .” Marguerite put her chin in her hands and slowly shook her head.
“Oh, you poor dear,” said Catherine. “I’m sure everything will be all right. But I agree with your mother: You do need plenty of rest before the ‘big day.’ And try not to become stressed. I know that’s a tall order, given the circumstances.”
“True, but just doing my little part in coordinating our efforts takes my mind off other worries. I actually feel invigorated and productive. Buoyant, even.”
“Wonderful! And perhaps the baby can feel your optimism and will come out smiling.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Marguerite laughed. She became serious again and gazed at her new friend with a slight frown.
“What is it, Marguerite? You seem anxious now.”
The Creole didn’t answer at first; she appeared to ponder her next words carefully. Finally, she said, “Catherine, would you deliver my baby?”
Catherine was shocked. “Marguerite, I don’t think—”
Marguerite quickly continued. “Please. Except for organizing these lists, I have thought of little else. You see, my old physician passed away two months ago. And, as you know, most of the other doctors are tending to the troops. Now, my friends have told me that you’ve successfully delivered a number of their plantation slaves’ babies. They say you have other competencies also.”
Catherine raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure they were referring to my midwifing skills?”
“Well, yes.” Marguerite, more relaxed, almost chuckled. “I have heard of your spiritualist abilities. But I have seen you at Mass, and I remember that you also suggested, when giving me the black cohosh, that I petition St. Anthony and St. Gerard for help. I believe in them, and I believe in you!”
“Yes, but—”
“So please, Catherine. I will be staying at my friend Claudia’s city home on Rue de Louis, near to your residence. Our plantation is too far away and unsafe, with the British coming and all. I promise to get plenty of rest. You will be monitoring the patients at the convent, but when my time comes, I could go to your house. I know it’s a huge inconvenience and an even bigger favor, but I would forever be in your debt. . . .”
“Hmm.” Catherine looked at the Creole woman with sympathy, concern, and, to her own surprise, warmth. “You seem to have given this a great deal of consideration. And I agree it’s a reasonable plan. Yes, I will be happy to midwife you, Marguerite.”
The white woman reached out to clasp Catherine’s hand. “Thank you, my friend. You have already erased much of the stress!”
Catherine smiled. “When your time comes and you arrive at my house, you will be with Hortense, my maid. She is quite experienced and has helped with deliveries many times. She will send for me, and then we’ll welcome your son together.”