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
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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 constant 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.