Part 14 (1/2)

”You must, of course, keep at least one. You are a lady. Philomene can go with you, she and the babies. I can arrange a place for Suzette with my brother, where she will be treated well.”

”But Philomene will lose Clement and her mother,” Oreline said.

”She won't be alone,” Narcisse said. ”She still has her girls.”

14 February 1855Natchitoches ParishSuccession of Joseph Ferrier Joseph Ferrier. Pet.i.tion filed by Marie Oreline Derbanne, Marie Oreline Derbanne, widow, and tutrix of the minors Florentine, Joseph, and Josephine, issue of her marriage to said Joseph Ferrier. Pet.i.tioner respectfully shows that she contemplates contracting marriage with Valery Oubre of Natchitoches Parish and desires to retain tutors.h.i.+p of the said minor children. Whereupon she prays for the convocation of a family meeting to decide upon the question if she shall be retained as tutrix, and that the members of the family meeting and Narcisse Fredieu, the under tutor, be notified to attend, / s/A. H. Pierson, attorney for pet.i.tioner. widow, and tutrix of the minors Florentine, Joseph, and Josephine, issue of her marriage to said Joseph Ferrier. Pet.i.tioner respectfully shows that she contemplates contracting marriage with Valery Oubre of Natchitoches Parish and desires to retain tutors.h.i.+p of the said minor children. Whereupon she prays for the convocation of a family meeting to decide upon the question if she shall be retained as tutrix, and that the members of the family meeting and Narcisse Fredieu, the under tutor, be notified to attend, / s/A. H. Pierson, attorney for pet.i.tioner.

Succession of Joseph Ferrier.

Oreline called Suzette and Philomene in to her in the front room of the farmhouse, and when they stood before her she willed herself to speak. ”We are forced to make difficult changes now that Monsieur Ferrier is gone.”

Philomene slipped her arm through her mother's and held tight. The two women leaned on one another.

”Oui, Madame.” Philomene talked for both of them. Suzette was clearly dazed, the way she sometimes got, but Philomene was not as easy to read. Oreline had to admit to a trace of fear in what the strong-willed young slave woman was capable of. Madame.” Philomene talked for both of them. Suzette was clearly dazed, the way she sometimes got, but Philomene was not as easy to read. Oreline had to admit to a trace of fear in what the strong-willed young slave woman was capable of.

”I am to be married again, soon, and must move off this farm. Philomene and the children will come with me.”

”What is to become of my mother and husband?”

”Places have been found, good places. Suzette, you will go to Augustine Fredieu, not so far away.”

”And Clement, Madame. What becomes of Clement? Back to M'sieu Tessier?” The edgy tremor in Philomene's voice made Oreline uneasy. She wished Narcisse were by her side, but he was on his way to the dock, had left with Clement over an hour before.

”Clement is already gone, on his way to a good home in Virginia.”

Oreline expected tears, or pleading, or both, and she had steeled herself for them. But she wasn't prepared for what Philomene did next. Philomene began to scratch at her own face, digging her short fingernails deep enough to draw blood, pulling away strips of raw skin.

”What have you done?” Philomene's voice had become a hiss. The tips of her fingers were slick with crimson. ”Where is he? He can't be gone. I have to talk to him.”

Oreline was not exactly sure what would have happened if Suzette had not held on to Philomene. Philomene tore at the fabric of her own dress and at her hair while Suzette tried to rock her quiet.

”We had to act quickly, to get him on the last steamer of the month,” Oreline said, uncertain whether Philomene even heard her.

Long moments pa.s.sed before Philomene finally regained herself, but still Suzette did not let her go. ”How could you?” Philomene said directly to Oreline, her red-rimmed eyes giving off a frenzied brightness. ”My mother, and then my husband?”

”You had better watch your tongue,” Oreline said stiffly, trying not to show how much Philomene in this condition frightened her. Suzette's daughter had always been unpredictable. ”You have been with me a long time, you and your mother both, but do not forget yourself to me.”

Oreline watched the struggle on Philomene's face, and it was with relief that she saw her bow her head slightly at last.

”Oui, Madame,” Philomene said. ”I have no more to say.” Madame,” Philomene said. ”I have no more to say.”

Those were the last words Philomene spoke, as far as Oreline could tell, to anyone. She stopped singing to the children, her own or Oreline's. As arranged, Suzette was sold to Augustine Fredieu, and when Suzette left Ferrier's farm for her new home, Philomene hugged her mother but did not utter a sound.

One of the Slaves Mented to Marrie Her [ Philomene ] But He was sold, Narcease wanted Her for His Self.--Cousin Gurtie Fredieu, written family history, 1975

Oreline was in a sorry mood, uncertain how her future would braid itself together. She found herself short-tempered and angry all of the time and struck the girl several times when she hadn't intended, but she never once withheld visiting from her on Sundays. The Sunday visits and her twins seemed to be the only things that kept Philomene together.

Even though the girl stopped talking, Philomene remained useful to Oreline, taking over all of the household ch.o.r.es on the farm as they waited for Oreline's second wedding day. The cows never missed milking, and the wash was boiled, scrubbed, pounded, hung, dried, ironed, folded, and put away. On her hands and knees, Philomene scrubbed the floors with a bristle brush. The children were tended and the meals cooked and served. But still she never spoke.

Three Sundays after Ferrier died, Philomene came to Oreline. She held two of her fingers upside down and made a walking motion with them.

”Where are you asking to go, Philomene?”

Philomene pointed to the woods, toward her grandmother.

”You can talk, Philomene,” Oreline said. ”Talk to me instead of this foolishness.”

Philomene stood stubbornly in front of her, saying nothing.

”I do not have to allow you to go.”

Philomene remained rigid, silent.

”All right,” Oreline said, and wrote the pa.s.s. ”But be back before dark.”

18.

O n a hot, muggy Thursday morning, Philomene struggled to get moving. Bet and Thany had both been fussy for almost the entire week, in spirits as low as Philomene's own, and the girls had cried tiny choking sobs all through the night. Philomene ached everywhere and a.s.sumed the twins did, too. Even the touch of their skin hurt her where she held them, and she could not bring comfort to either them or herself. n a hot, muggy Thursday morning, Philomene struggled to get moving. Bet and Thany had both been fussy for almost the entire week, in spirits as low as Philomene's own, and the girls had cried tiny choking sobs all through the night. Philomene ached everywhere and a.s.sumed the twins did, too. Even the touch of their skin hurt her where she held them, and she could not bring comfort to either them or herself.

At first she thought the mix of her own suffering and want of sleep and the dead places in her heart were the reason she had such a hard time getting up before the sun to nurse her babies and light the morning fires on the farm.

Philomene wouldn't allow herself words, even with the babies. There was a freedom in not talking, an extra corner of calm to be gained by not having to partic.i.p.ate fully in a world without Clement. If not for the twins, she might have tried to run off, to get to him somehow, but she didn't know where Virginia was or where Clement was likely to be held there. Even if she could manage to find him, she would be sent back and punished. There was no encouraging course of thought, no plan she could devise that made any sense. There was no place to go, except into silence. Philomene wondered if her aunt Palmire had felt this same fragile, soothing distance.

Ever since they had first told her that Clement was gone, she had been enveloped by the same heaviness that she recognized in her mother. Then Suzette was gone from her as well, and the facing of each new day was too much effort. The farm seemed flat and unfamiliar, absent of all of the people who had made it home. It had become nothing more than a discarded, temporary shelter for Oreline and her three children, and Philomene and the twins, a stopover until the next place.

If not for my babies, Philomene kept thinking, my mind would slip away, and my body would follow.

Philomene propped Bet and Thany in the corner where she could check on them and went about her work. They were fussy, demanding, and she could barely keep her thoughts on cleaning out the wall altar in Oreline's bedroom. The day was already blistering, and before the morning had barely started, the rag that she kept in her ap.r.o.n pocket to wipe the perspiration from her face was as soaked as her scrub rag.

As the sun blazed higher in the cloudless sky, she felt her legs melt in the dripping Louisiana heat, felt her cheek slippery and hot against the floor she had just cleaned. Voices floated like dandelion wish-weeds around her, none of her concern. River noises had been set loose in her head, drowning out everything else.

She woke up cold and s.h.i.+vering. The noise was louder; fiery water surrounded her. Only her head was above the roaring waves, and she could barely see through the fog that sat on top of the river like soft muslin. The water turned freezing cold and then hot again. She could only make out dim shapes until her eyes got used to the tricks of light and shadow, and then a color, taking on form and getting larger. In the distance she saw a yellow boat coming toward her. In the narrow dugout was Clement, nut brown and strong, his powerful arms straining with each pull of the oars, rowing straight and true toward her through the rising water. Smiling at her, a smile full of certainty and knowing. Without taking his brown eyes from hers across the distance, he scooped up little Thany from the raging water and placed her carefully beside him, safe in the boat. Hadn't she left both girls together somewhere else? Where was Bet?