Cane River Part 25

Philomene Dorald B.

F.

40.

Emelie Fredieu B.

F.

20.

dtr Angelique B.

F.

1.

dtr Eugene Fredieu B.

M.

14.

son Nicolas B.

M.

8.

son Henry B.

M.

5.

son Joseph B.

M.

2.

son John Jackson B.

M.

72.

father Doralise B.

F.

71.

wife

Isaac Purnell married laborer Elizabeth married laborer Albert single

Alfred Hubner widowed laborer Suzette Jackson widowed laborer Philomene Dorald married laborer Emelie Fredieu

laborer laborer Angelique single

Eugene Fredieu single laborer Nicolas single

Henry single

Joseph single

John Jackson married laborer Doralise married

1880 Natchitoches, Louisiana, Federal Census.

35.

S hortly after dusk, Joseph walked into the kitchen of the house on Billes Landing, his workclothes and hair filthy with sap and pine chips. Emily knew how it must look to him, the disorder of the kitchen, her unkempt appearance, the dimness of the room. She hadn't yet lit the lamps. A ball of biscuit dough and the rolling pin lay abandoned on the counter, and Angelite's dark eyes darted from Emily to Joseph and back again as she attempted to put supper together. At eight she was overmatched. Josephine played on the floor at Emily's feet, disconnected to the gloom laying claim to the house. She smiled and clapped when she saw Joseph, holding out her arms to be picked up. Alongside, T.O. sucked his thumb, a habit he had given up the year before, his brown eyes moist, wide, and questioning, his face streaked with the residue of old tears. Joe slept in the crib. hortly after dusk, Joseph walked into the kitchen of the house on Billes Landing, his workclothes and hair filthy with sap and pine chips. Emily knew how it must look to him, the disorder of the kitchen, her unkempt appearance, the dimness of the room. She hadn't yet lit the lamps. A ball of biscuit dough and the rolling pin lay abandoned on the counter, and Angelite's dark eyes darted from Emily to Joseph and back again as she attempted to put supper together. At eight she was overmatched. Josephine played on the floor at Emily's feet, disconnected to the gloom laying claim to the house. She smiled and clapped when she saw Joseph, holding out her arms to be picked up. Alongside, T.O. sucked his thumb, a habit he had given up the year before, his brown eyes moist, wide, and questioning, his face streaked with the residue of old tears. Joe slept in the crib.

Joseph scooped up Josephine, and she began to play with his mustache. "What has happened, 't.i.te?" Anxiety gripped his voice.

Emily was powerless to halt another round of tears rising from deep in her chest. "Great-Grand Elisabeth died today," she said.

"I am so sorry," Joseph said, touching Emily's shoulder, the contact comforting and familiar. "She was old. It was her time."

Emily nodded tiredly, pushed herself up from the table, and wiped her face with her ap.r.o.n. It didn't take long to rescue Angelite's efforts and turn out a supper of biscuits, cane syrup, and fried ham. She remained silent preparing the meal and silent as they ate. Joseph kept his head down, his movements small and cautious. Emily wasn't hungry but watched the others eat. She set the dishes in the tin washtub to soak, put the children to bed, and sat down again opposite Joseph at the table.

"Maman sent Uncle Gerant over by boat to fetch us early this morning, not long after you left." Emily's voice labored, stopping and starting with difficulty. "There were as many horses and wagons outside as on a Sunday. We went directly back into Great-Grand Elisabeth's bedroom. She looked so small." sent Uncle Gerant over by boat to fetch us early this morning, not long after you left." Emily's voice labored, stopping and starting with difficulty. "There were as many horses and wagons outside as on a Sunday. We went directly back into Great-Grand Elisabeth's bedroom. She looked so small."

Emily sorted through a jumble of images. The stark white of the often washed sheets on the bed, the closeness of the room that had gone unaired for too long, the wooden tray in the corner with a bowl of forgotten broth, the chamber pot half-visible under the bed.

"She judged me harshly at the end. I know it. I stood in that room with the rest of the family, but I couldn't look in her eyes."

"She thought the world of you, 't.i.te."

"Her arms were so thin that the skin sagged, but she had a perfect quarter moon just below her elbow. The tips curved around and came to points at the top and bottom. Memere Memere Suzette and Great-Uncle Yellow John were in the room. It was like going into church, each generation marching in front of her. Great-Uncle never had children, so next it was Uncle Gerant and Suzette and Great-Uncle Yellow John were in the room. It was like going into church, each generation marching in front of her. Great-Uncle never had children, so next it was Uncle Gerant and Maman Maman's turn. Gerant was oldest, so he went first. He and Melantine took their children forward. One by one she laid her hands on them. I saw how it was to be done."

Joseph put his hand on top of hers. Emily took a deep breath to allow her voice to regain some of its steadiness.

"Maman pushed Bet and her children toward the bed, and then me, as if I wouldn't know what to do on my own." pushed Bet and her children toward the bed, and then me, as if I wouldn't know what to do on my own."

Emily drew her shoulders back and mimicked Philomene's voice. "Emily is here, Memere Memere Elisabeth, and her children by the Frenchman." Elisabeth, and her children by the Frenchman."

Shamefaced, Emily abruptly stopped the imitation of her mother. "That was just how she said it," she went on. "Great-Grand Elisabeth reached out and touched me on the arm, her hand drawn up into itself with almost no weight to it, like being pecked by a bird's beak. She was under the covers to her neck, only her head and arms showing, and all I could think was how big she always looked, and how small she really was."

Carrying a marker, a burned image of the moon on her arm, Emily thought. The unfinished circle of the moon.

"I had to get in close for her to tell me she wanted to give me the quilt from the bed. Angelite was trembling, but I brought her forward and the old woman touched her. When it was T.O.'s turn, he walked up to the bed on his own and took her hand. She stroked his hair, and he stood straight, looking right at her. We had to pull him away from her side so the others could take their turn."

Joseph Billes.

Her family, Emily thought, paraded past the dimming eyes of the oldest of them, shouting their summarized stories out loud. Children of the Frenchman. Eight-year-old Angelite, the china doll beauty. T.O., the devoted six-year-old. Josephine, the toddler, a throwback, who faintly carried a traceable stain of color. Joe, still a babe in arms. Elisabeth touched her own children, and their children, and their children's children, one by one, all the way down the line.

Emily sobbed briefly, a tired strangle of a cry. Joseph sc.r.a.ped back his chair, patted her on the shoulder, and went out to the barn to feed the horses.