Josette (5 page)

Michel grunted. “Ah, barely noon and off to Madame's already. You've been aboard ship too long.”

Cameron's gaze fixed on the clipper's bow and Dianah's name. The idea of spending any time at all with one of Madame's trained ladies curdled his stomach. “It's not like that at all. I think she has a history lesson in store for me.”

Josette sat at one end of the flat-bottomed pirogue while Alexia stood at the other end, deftly managing the long pole that eased them through the slow-moving bayou waters, guiding them deeper into the swamplands. Alexia looked as if she'd been born to the task.

An alligator slid off the muddy cypress-lined bank and disappeared under water. Another rose up near the boat, only its green eyes and snout visible. The beast stared at them as though contemplating its next meal. Josette shuddered, but Alexia merely ignored it and, like the expert she was, guided the boat silently past. She took in a deep breath and sighed, her cheeks flushed with joyfulness.

Alexia's obvious good cheer at being back in the bayou tightened Josette's chest until she could barely breathe. Ever since she could remember, she and Solange had always wanted to escape life in these backwaters. But not Alexia. What would it take to change her mind? To make her want something more, something better, before Maman's ways settled too deep in her granddaughter's bones?

Cameron Andrews had to see the truth sooner or later. He had to take Alexia out of here before it was too late. At the thought of him, something low in Josette's belly heated. Well, she'd have none of that. “You aren't to come here alone any longer, Alexia.”

“You be meanin' at night, because it's broad daylight, and there ain't no one in dese parts can handle a pirogue better than me. Exceptin' maybe René and Bastièn since they's the ones taught me.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Alexia, stop with your Cajun talk. You don't fool me. You've been speaking like that to get under your father's skin, haven't you? And you've likely managed to drive him nearly insane with your belligerent patois. Save it for Maman and your uncles. I'm thoroughly sick of it. I've worked far too hard and long with you to listen to your drivel.”

Alexia's lips pursed as if fighting a smile. She said nothing, merely skimmed the surface of the brackish water with those shrewd amber eyes of hers while she guided the pirogue around a wide bend.

A weathered wood shanty, set back from the bank in a nest of pines, appeared, its tin roof overhanging a deep porch running the length of what most likely was a one-room house. A barefoot, shirtless man sitting in a rocker stood, ajar of what appeared to be moonshine in his hand—probably Lucien's brew if the man hadn't concocted it himself. He squinted first at Josette, then settled his gaze on the figure clad in boy's clothing with a long black braid hanging down her back. Something low and wicked sounding rolled off his tongue.

Josette waited until they were well past him. “Did you catch that, Alexia? He wanted you, not me.”

“Seems like I might need to be carryin' a good knife, then. I lost mine at sea. Maman will have one. Or René.”

“At any time, Alexia, day or night, you are not to travel alone. You've grown too big, and too many men are taking notice. You travel with me and no one else.”

“Not even with René?” A pout formed on Alexia's lips, yet her eyes still danced with humor. “
Merde, ma tante
. He's your own brother. He won't be botherin' me none. Not in the way you mean.”

Josette would be damned if she'd let Alexia see her lose her temper at the girl's refusal to drop the Cajun patois. “Don't be silly. René loves you as if you were his own daughter, but he has no common sense with regard to your personal welfare.”

“He is a smart man,
ma tante
. He takes fine care of me.”

Josette adjusted her hat and narrowed her eyes at Alexia. “You'd find yourself smack in the middle of something before your uncle realized the predicament he'd landed you in. He knows you're growing into womanhood, and he thinks you can handle yourself, but you cannot. If you found yourself surrounded by ten drunken men determined to steal your virginity, Alexia, you'd have no chance to save yourself, and there would be little René could do to rescue you. Another one of his ‘
pardonne-moi
, I didn't see it coming,' excuses would do little good if you were dead or sold upriver.”

Alexia pushed the pirogue toward Maman's shanty, her eyes scouring the landscape. “See them bubbles?”

“Where?”

Alexia laughed, light and airy. “Bubbles show me where crawfish hide in the mud.”

“I know very well what they mean, Alexia. I was born and raised here, too.”

“
Oui,
but you didn't see them and I did. That's my point. Soon's we get to Maman's, René will take me out to dig 'em up for tonight's étoufée, which Maman be fixin'.”

“Who says she will?”

Alexia's jaw twitched. “She will.”

“You are to remain with me or with your papa. But not here, Alexia. Never here, again.”

This time, Alexia's pout was real. “What I'm supposed to be doin' at your house, huh? I may as well be stuck in the graveyard with Maman Solange for the nuthin' that goes on in your home. You tell me, what I'm to do? Get out of bed, eat breakfast, read a book, eat lunch, go down to your shop and smell the pretty smells, and then walk back home. Eat dinner, take a bath, and go to bed. That is some kind a day what whips me into a fair frenzy. So excitin' as to steal my breath.”

“You left out the part about your education. You like learning new things.”

Alexia leaned on the pole and halted the pirogue in the middle of the muddy water. “You don't think I gots me a good education out here? Look around. There's not a tree in sight I don't know about. Not a root in the whole of here I don't know how to pick and use to heal a body, just like Maman shows me. I can out-fish, out-hunt any Thibodeaux, and when Maman takes to the heavens, I'll become the healer.” She pounded her thumb on her chest. “And Lucien taught me how to make moonshine. Now ain't that somethin'?”

“Dear Lord.” Josette closed her eyes and waited for the shock running through her to clear. “When did he start teaching you this?”

“Going on six months, thereabouts, before I went to San Francisco.”

“Does René know of your little
education
?”

Alexia rolled her eyes, as if she was talking to an imbecile. “Never thought to ask.”

Josette sprang to her feet. The boat swayed.

Alexia jammed her pole into the mud and steadied the pirogue. “Careful, or we'll both end up gator bait.” She grew serious. “No need to go worryin' over me,
ma tante
. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Then why not start speaking the way I've taught you?”

“Doan know what you mean.”

“Damn it, Alexia!”

Silence fell upon the pirogue, until only the sounds of the bayou rustled through the air. Josette closed her eyes, muttered a short prayer, and let the rhythm of her heart return to normal.

She sat back down. “You don't have to be bored living with me. Why not take interest in my shop? All the mixing and inventing of new products should intrigue you. Look at the herbs we can gather together that will make a woman's complexion remain youthful until the day she's laid to rest. You could do well to begin using my products, anyway.”

“Exceptin' for the roots I could collect, the rest of what you do is more boring than guttin' a squirrel.”

“What of your father and his business?”

A hardness fell over Alexia's countenance. “What of him and his business? He don't want me none. Besides, he'll be sailin' off soon enough. That's all he ever said to me the whole trip from San Francisco to here.” She scrunched up her face. “‘Do this, Alexia, do that, Alexia, or I will sail off into the sunset and you will never see me again. And I won't even give you another thought.' That man has no more heart for me than this pole I hold. He's on his way to nowhere, so he says, an' I won't be going nowhere with him, don'cha know.”

Josette's chest constricted again. So it mattered to Alexia what Cameron thought of her, after all. A little ray of hope filtered through the darkness in Josette's heart. If she could only find a way to connect father and daughter, make them inseparable. Alexia was loyal beyond words, but her loyalties were misplaced. Time. Josette needed more time, and that was something she didn't have if Cameron intended to leave soon. She had to think of something to hold him here until a couple of hearts connected.

“Here we be.” Alexia angled the pirogue to the end of the dock and held it steady while Josette lifted her skirts and removed herself from the craft. Alexia tied a rope onto a wooden mooring and jumped out, agile as a deer. “You don't even look like you were raised in the bayou or that you ever stepped foot in this house before.” Not waiting for a response, Alexia ran up the steps. “Maman, your Alexia, she be home!”

At the sight of her mother rushing through the door, arms stretched wide, and Alexia flying into them, Josette squared her shoulders. She didn't approve of Maman's questionable ways. But then, her mother didn't favor Josette's choices in life, either. She certainly hadn't taken to Josette marrying a man more than three times her age. That hadn't been all of it—there had always been one kind of hurt or another between them. Josette had felt it as far back as she could remember, even though she couldn't put a name to it. Now if she could only convince her mother to give up her hold on Alexia, along with her nefarious plans to turn her granddaughter into another voodoo witch.

A shirtless and barefoot René stepped onto the porch and shoved a hand through his wayward black curls, his grin as wide as Alexia's and just as fetching. No man had a right to be so handsome—and so equally worthless.

“
Pouchette
,” he said, giving Alexia a quick hug. He tugged the cap off her head and rubbed his knuckles over her scalp.

“Will you take me crawfish huntin', Uncle? If we get a bucket full, we can have us some étoufée. Where's Bastièn?” Alexia scampered into the house, not waiting for an answer and leaving Maman and René staring at Josette.

Her mother's hands fisted on her hips. She settled an ominous gaze on Josette that raised the fine hairs along the back of her neck. “You done sent my Alexia off looking for her papa, didn't you? Now he's here, what you gonna do? Because I won't be giving her up to no man who murdered my Solange.” Turning on her bare heel, she marched back into the house, not bothering to wait for a response.

René leaned a shoulder against the door frame, hung his thumbs in the top of his trousers, and watched Josette through lazy lids.

Josette heaved a sigh, lifted her skirts, and climbed the steps. “And hello to you, Maman.” She turned to René. “And to you, as well, dear brother.”

René gave a soft snort and a corner of his mouth turned up. “I love you, don'cha know.”

She gave him a quick kiss on each cheek. “But why I love you, I haven't a clue. You are a sister's nightmare, and a town's worst disaster. What are you doing with yourself these days besides giving the ladies about town the vapors?”

He rolled his shoulder off the frame, sending him back into the house. “That attribute belongs to. However, I am about to become gainfully employed. Come inside, little sister.”

Josette no sooner stepped through the door when Bastièn padded barefoot from the back of the house and into the one room that served as an open living and kitchen area. He, too, wore only trousers. “You talking love here? Must be my sister done arrived, 'cause everyone knows Alexia's here.” He shoved a shock of black hair out of his eyes, then with a mischievous grin, bumped his shoulder against Alexia's.

She had her nose over a pot and was waving her fingers through the fragrant steam, breathing it in. “Look,
ma tante,
étoufée. Maman knew we was coming 'cause she got the second sight, and went to cookin' up my heart's desire.” She rushed over to her grandmother and gave her a hug.

Maman pressed her cheek against Alexia's chest. “As if I don't know your favorite,
chère.
You cut your teeth on it.”

Josette regarded her mother, who sat at the table in a brightly painted chair, a cup of ever-present coffee before her and dangling a rabbit's foot on a chain that first turned in slow circles, then paused and began moving sideways, like the pendulum of the hall clock in Josette's home. Whatever message Maman intended about her unique ability to know what was going on at just about any time, or anywhere, Josette ignored, as she sat in a chair opposite her.

Perhaps it was because her mother didn't smile much, or perhaps it was the result of the creams she concocted, but nary a trace of crow's feet edged her eyes. Her hair fell in a loose French braid down her back, and light through the window danced off a crown of shiny, black hair. It struck Josette that she had no idea of her mother's age, but she must have been a stunning beauty in her youth. Whatever Maman's past, she kept it to herself. With René at age thirty-two, if Maman had given birth to him when she was fifteen, then perhaps she might be around forty-seven, but no matter her age, she could easily pass for Josette's sister.

Bastièn poured two cups of the strong café noir and, setting one in front of Josette, slid onto the chair next to her, his blue eyes—the only feature that set him apart from the others—still sleepy-looking. He grinned, a slow and easy smile that Josette imagined had stolen more than one female heart.

René poured a cup, as well, and sat at the head of the table. In the silence that followed, Josette took a sip of coffee and set the cup back down on the pristine woven mat that sat atop an equally pristine white tablecloth, its center embroidered in a bouquet of colorful flowers. Maman had likely spent hours bent over this cloth, working her needle in intricate floral patterns, much as she had so many times in the past. Josette glanced around the room. Not a thing out of place. But there never was.