Beverly Jenkins (5 page)

B
illie helped earn her keep by making Addy’s deliveries up and down the docks. Bundled up against the raw winter wind blowing in off the water, she was in her eighth month and the weight of the baby made her feel as if there were fifty-pound watermelons tied around her waist. Frankly she was shaped that way as well. Her cape, once perfect for hiding her condition beneath, now barely concealed her girth. Cold and weary, she was thankful to be heading to the day’s final delivery. Old Mr. Arroyo’s bootblack shop. His gout was acting up and he swore by Addy’s medicine.

Entering the small establishment shivering and trying to warm her hands, she was brought up short by the sight of Drew Yates seated in the chair having his boots shined. He appeared equally as stunned and although her first instinct was to turn and run, she shook off the shock and grabbed hold of her faculties. Mr. Arroyo needed the medicine and she needed to bring his payment back to Addy.

“How are you, Drew?” she asked as if the sight of him hadn’t knocked her to her knees.

“Prince said you’d left the city.”

She shrugged. “As you can see, he lied. Mr. Arroyo, here’s your medicine.”

“Thanks, Billie. Hold on a minute while I go in the back and get my coin purse.”

His departure left them alone and she’d never been more uncomfortable in her life.

“Is there a reason he lied?” he asked.

“Probably because of this.” She opened her cloak and his eyes went wide.

While he sat there looking even more stunned, Mr. Arroyo returned and Billie put the coins into the pocket of her cloak. “Thank you. Nice seeing you, Drew.”

“Wait a minute!”

Hurrying out the door she didn’t slow. Pity was the last thing she wanted from him, and even though she didn’t have a dime to her name she had too much pride to take the money he’d invariably want to offer. She was also embarrassed about her condition and that seeing him reminded her how stupid she was to be in love with him still. He called her name again but she kept walking as fast as her advanced state would allow until he caught up to her and gently made her stop with a hand on her arm. “Talk to me, please.”

“What would you have me say?”

“I’m not sure. Do you know who the father is?”

She studied him for a long moment. “No, so don’t worry, I won’t make any demands on you.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“No? Then if I can somehow tie the baby to you, you’ll claim it.”

He didn’t reply.

She turned on her heel. “Have a good life, Drew.” Billie didn’t know why she was so angry or so close to tears. He’d asked a reasonable question, she supposed, but she didn’t feel reasonable, just tired and frustrated and so uncustomarily helpless, she wanted to drop to the ground and weep. It wouldn’t help though. The only thing that would help would be the birth, giving the child over to Pearl, and seeking a new life somewhere else.

A grim-faced Drew watched her go, then solemnly returned to Mr. Arroyo’s shop. After quizzing the man, he learned that Billie had turned up on the docks a few months ago, living with an old roots woman named Addy Graves. Arroyo didn’t know how long the two had been acquaintances, or the circumstances of their relationship, only that Billie sometimes made the woman’s deliveries. He shared Addy’s address and when he finished blacking Drew’s boots, Drew walked back outside into the cold gray day. His first instinct was to seek out the house to inquire if Billie needed financial assistance, but she hadn’t looked pleased to see him again. Rather than add to her distress, he drove home. The answers to his questions had finally been revealed, so why was he left so unsettled?

Chapter 6

T
he baby was born April 15, 1886. A boy. Addy put him into the weary Billie’s arms and the sight of his angelic little face erased all the pain and exhaustion that accompanied the fifteen hours of labor. “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered through her tears. She hadn’t expected to have such an emotional reaction to seeing her child for the first time. Her eyes lingered lovingly over his scrunched-up face, tiny closed fists and the thick down of black hair covering his head.

“Got a birthmark on his back, too,” the mysterious old woman pointed out.

Billie turned him over and gently eased aside the soft blanket. The sight of the birthmark put ice in her blood. It was twin to the blurry sunburst Drew Yates had on his back. She’d resigned herself to not knowing the identity of the father, but now. . . . the implications were enormous. Would he want to know he had a son? If he did, would he claim the child and thus complicate the deal she’d made with the DuChances? She calmed her mind. There was no point in drowning in speculation. All that mattered was that she had a beautiful, perfectly formed son, and in spite of the promise she’d made to give him up, she named him. Antonio Andrew Wells.

A few days later, Addy entered the room where Billie and the baby slept. “Someone here to see you.”

Before Billie could ask the visitor’s identity, Prince DuChance appeared in the threshold.

“Well, well,” he purred with silky malice. “Aren’t you the perfect picture of motherhood?”

He was so busy gloating he failed to see Addy’s unveiled hate. He wasn’t someone either of them wanted to see, Billie in particular, not after having spent every night since Tonio’s birth walking the floor with him. He wasn’t eating or sleeping well and cried incessantly. Addy speculated that there might be something wrong with his insides because Billie’s breast milk sent him into tortured screams instead of peace and contentment.

“What do you want, Prince?” The baby in her arms wailed.

“Just stopped by to see how my mother’s investment is doing.”

“Not well at the moment, as you can hear. He’s sickly and nothing Addy and I do seems to make a difference.” The cries filled the room.

“Find a cure. We have an agreement. Since he’s a boy the parties will pay more.”

She wanted to tell him what he could do with the agreement but said nothing.

“And when are you coming back to work?”

“I’m not. The babe’s too sick.”

“You owe us money.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “You’ll be paid. Don’t worry.”

Ignoring his toadlike eyes, she began pacing with the howling baby, hoping the movement in tandem with her soft, comforting words would invoke some modicum of calm, but he screamed all the louder. “As you can see I’ve my hands full. Come back another time.”

He didn’t like being dismissed, but the circumstances left little choice. “One year. Have him ready or you pay the price.” He glanced Addy’s way and sneered, “I’ll see myself out.”

After his departure, Billie cursed him silently then resettled her attention on her poor distressed son. She had no idea how she’d pay the DuChances with the little bit of money she received from Addy and it was one more thing gnawing at her mind.

“Don’t worry. Things will be as they’re meant to be,” Addy voiced prophetically.

Before Billie could ask her to explain, the roots woman left the room.

In the weeks and months that followed, Drew continued his courting of Rosaline Ruiz and Billie the care and feeding of their son. She hadn’t seen Drew since the day on the dock and she didn’t seek him out. It didn’t seem right to suddenly appear at his door and present him with a child he knew nothing about, and again, she’d promised the baby to the DuChances. Thinking back on how she’d once referred to the baby as an it, and how readily she’d intended to give him away, made her realize just how ignorant she’d been about the bonds between mother and child. Her love for her son spread through her being with each passing moment, and when he slept she found herself gazing down at his small, sweet face with wonder. He was hers—from her loins. The feelings brought to mind the ill treatment she’d received at the hands of her own mother—the slaps, the kicks, the cursings. Had there been something wrong with her as a child that caused her mother to not care for her with the same intensity? Nothing in life would ever make her raise her hand in anger to something so precious. Wanting to keep him safe grew as strong as her love.

Addy finally came up with a concoction of herbs and tonics that eased his tender tummy. By the time he turned six months old, he was as healthy and alert as any mother could wish, and when his ninth month rolled around, he was walking and getting into everything he could find. He often accompanied Billie on her errands to the docks, and everyone from the saloon whores to the shipbuilders to the baleen haulers knew him and gave him a smile. A few men even came courting, but she turned them away. With Tonio’s first birthday less than a week away, leaving San Francisco had become paramount so tying herself to a man made little sense.

That evening, she glanced over at her peacefully sleeping son. He’d spent the afternoon chasing the gulls on the shoreline, and was so tuckered out, she doubted he’d utter a peep before sunrise. Walking over to his crib, she surveyed the small whirlwind that he’d become and very softly stroked a finger over his cheek. Hell would freeze over before she gave him over to the DuChances. He’d captured her heart from the moment she held him in her arms and she couldn’t imagine living life without him, but in order to save him and to save herself, it was going to be necessary to do so. She just hoped he’d forgive her one day. If all went well, they’d be gone before Prince came to collect him. She’d saved up the few coins she’d received from Addy as payment for running her errands. The amount wouldn’t get them very far, but with any luck it would be enough to get them where they needed to be. While the baby slept, she turned down the lamp, crawled into bed and hoped her plan bore fruit.

But Prince arrived unexpectedly the following afternoon. “I’m here for the baby.”

Swallowing her surprise and fear, she declared as calmly as she could manage, “The arrangement was on his first birthday. I still have a week, Prince.” Tonio was playing on the floor. She walked over and hoisted him into his arms. He smiled up at her and settled his head against her shoulder.

She saw Prince watching them and whatever conclusion he’d come to made him made him shake his head. “You’ve grown attached to the little bastard, haven’t you? You always were a stupid whore.”

Before she could snap back a reply, Tonio began to wail.

Prince stiffened.

“He’s cutting new teeth and not feeling well.” She tried to comfort him by rocking him slowly and crooning, but the screams only increased in volume, and as they did, Prince stared on grimly. Billie pressed her advantage and prayed she could somehow delay handing over her child. “How about you come back in a couple of days? The teeth will be in and he’ll be much calmer.”

She could tell Prince was conflicted. On the one hand he’d arrived with every intention of taking possession of the child, but on the other hand, he clearly wanted nothing to do with Tonio in his present howling state.

In the end, he surrendered, but with obvious displeasure. “I’ll be back on Friday. Have him ready. Drug him if you have to. I’ll not have him screaming all the way back to town. And don’t think about trying to flee. If you do, I’ll find you and kill you both.”

She nodded tersely.

He stormed out and a shaken but relieved Billie gave her son, whose cries had diminished to whimpers, a kiss on his cheek and a soft squeeze filled with her love.

“Got yourself a few more days, did you?”

She turned at Addy’s voice. The glint of humor in the aging eyes was something she’d never witnessed before. “Yes, I have.”

“Then let’s get you on your way tonight.”

Billie had planned on just that, but how had Addy known? “You knew I was leaving?”

“Why would you stay and hand him over to that monster?”

She didn’t know what to say.

“Get you something to eat. We’ll leave soon as it’s dark.”

Billie’s plan had involved getting her and the baby to the train station and making her way east to Sacramento, but as night fell and she, the baby and Addy walked to one of the waterfront saloons, it seemed Addy had an escape plan of her own design. A fisherman and his small craft were waiting. As Addy held the sleeping Tonio, he helped Billie into his boat and Addy handed over the baby.

“He’ll take you up to Stockton and you can catch the train there.”

Billie had no idea how much the man knew but her concern was great.

Once again, Addy seemed to read her mind. “He will not betray you. He owes me a lifetime of favors and his silence.”

“But what of Prince. What will you tell him?”

Addy waved her off. “Nothing. You go get that crown. May the Spirits be with you.”

And then they were pushing off. She wanted to tell Addy how much her care meant and how much she’d miss her, but Billie sensed she knew. She looked down at her son asleep in her arms and when she glanced up to try and make out Addy in the darkness, she saw only shadows.

The man said nothing during the initial part of the journey except to answer her question about what body of water they were traveling on. “San Joaquin River. You get some sleep. We’ll be in Stockton directly.”

Her mind awash with worries about Addy, Prince, and the uncertain path she’d chosen for Tonio’s immediate future, Billie doubted she’d ever sleep again, but she lay down on the tarps covering the deck of the boat and when her eyes opened again, it was morning.

A
fter finishing up Friday’s morning deliveries, Addy returned home to find an angry Prince DuChance standing on her doorstep. His angry glare didn’t faze her, so she opened her gate and walked to where he stood.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

She didn’t bother feigning ignorance. “Gone.”

“Where!”

“Don’t know. Left here in the middle of the night. When I got up this morning she and the baby were gone.”

“Gone where! And don’t make me ask again.”

She shrugged, and met his eyes. “Ask me as many times as you want. Can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Or won’t?”

Addy supposed she should’ve felt threatened by him, but her death wouldn’t come by his hand, so she asked, “Pearl still dying?”

Startled eyes filled his face.

“She is, you know. Some things in this world are hard to understand, but we all understand death. Got my own lesson when my daughter washed up on the shore of the bay. You probably read about her in the papers. Name was Chassie.”

He turned to stone.

She waited.

“Uh, no,” he stammered.

“Thought not. Be nice if I could find the one who killed her. Figure I will eventually. Being from Louisiana you know women like me always learn the truth. Christian Bible says an eye for an eye.” She enjoyed watching his attempt to mask his reaction even as his hands shook. “Chassie was my only child,” she informed him in a matter of fact voice. “Can’t decide whether the murderer will die slowly or like”—the sharp clap of her hands made him jump—“that.”

A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his nose and brow.

She looked into his scarred face. “Any other questions for me?”

He intimated a hasty no.

“Then you might want to head on back to the city and let me get on with my day.”

He left without further word, and as he drove away, she watched him go with a knowing smile on her lips and a blazing hatred in her eyes.

Handling the reins, Prince hated himself for shaking, but she’d scared him badly. All this time, he’d thought her just another old woman, good for nothing but seeing to the occasional sickness, washing clothes, and bringing his mother her tea. Today, she’d let him know she was more, much more, and if his intuitions were right, she also knew he’d killed her daughter.
Why didn’t I know Addy was her mother?
a voice shouted inside. Being from Louisiana, he had a healthy respect for those who worked the arts, and in spite of his education, wasn’t stupid enough to chalk such beliefs up to superstition. When the girl’s body was found, he’d been interviewed by the police, but with no solid evidence linking him to her death, they’d never returned. Why would she reveal her familial ties after such a long passage of time? And was his mother really dying? She certainly appeared to be. Had the old woman been slipping something in Pearl’s tea? His first thought was to go back and slit her throat so as to forestall anything she might try to do to him, but he was afraid of what her death might unleash. If she knew he killed her daughter, he felt right in assuming that she’d be looking for revenge, and in light of her startling revelation would the day of reckoning be soon? It was imperative that he locate Billie and the child because the sooner he did, the sooner he could take care of the old woman, even if he had to journey to New Orleans and hire a witch of his own to even the odds.

F
rom the seat of the wagon, Billie studied the massive iron gates with the letters
DESTINO
scrolled across the top and asked the driver, “This is it?”

He nodded. “Yates been living her for years. House is up this road apiece. Want me to drive you to the door?”

The gates were open as if in welcome, but she guessed Drew was going to wish they’d been locked tight as a virgin’s chastity belt once she made her appearance. “How much more will it cost me? I don’t have much money left.” She’d met him at the Stockton train station. The price he’d quoted to drive her there had taken almost all of her remaining coin.

“Nothing.”

“Then yes and thanks.”

So he moved the two-horse team forward on the gravel road. Having been a city girl most of her life, Billie found the wide-open landscape surprising. Did Drew’s family own it all? she wondered. She knew he was wealthy, but if the expansive vista unveiling itself before her eyes were a true indication, she hadn’t known the half of it. There were orchards and outbuildings, small herds of cattle, corrals, horses in pens, and off in the distance mountains still holding winter caps of snow—not that he owned those, or at least she didn’t think he did. Dusk was falling as the big house came into view up ahead. The area around it was lit up like a birthday cake. Faint strains of music wafted to her ears carrying with it the sound of happy voices. “Is there some kind of party going on?” she asked.