Evangeline and Cinnamon didn’t much feeling like joking about magic anymore.
Jeremy had arrived back at Devil’s Bayou in the early hours before sunrise. His uninvited guest was awake, and expecting him.
His boots had barely touched the tiles of the grand foyer when he heard the rustle of her skirts and her light footfalls coming down the stairs and headed his direction. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for her. This fight had been boiling low inside him for a long time- and soon it would come frothing and steaming over. But not tonight. Tonight there were wtill games yet to play.
She stopped just a few steps from the bottom of the staircase, her eyes even with his. She was a beautiful creature. She looked a great deal like her sister; the one redeeming quality Jeremy could find in her. When he saw his lovely guest he could not help but seeing her sister, his long dead wife.
The two women shared perfect, cupid-bow lips, the same glittering eyes, the same soft, dark hair. Jeremy could still remember the sound of his wife’s voice, the smell of her skin.
“I know where you have been,” Jeremy’s guest snarled, barely taking a breath before continuing, “I forbid you from going there again. Do you hear me? I forbid you. I’ve taken your little tantrums and smiled while you play ‘Vivre la Résistance’ but the game is over now. I’ve had enough. You are mine; and I’ve indulged you far too long. You’re going to be a good little bitch now, and you’ll come when I call.”
She was several inches shorter than Jeremy, but she was strong. She reached out and took him by his collar, pulling his lips close to hers.
“You belong to me, Tarleton,” she whispered softly, leaning forward slightly and pressing her perfect lips against his.
Her lips were sweet and her tongue was sweeter still; she was intoxicating. Jeremy kissed her back, placing his hand in the small of her back and laying her down on the stairs.
She flashed her perfect smile at him, triumphant sparks in her eyes. She knew he would obey her; he loved her. Everyone loved her, she was so very pretty.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the next couple of days, Marie continued with her strange herbs and spells. 'Remedies' she called them. Once or twice Cinnamon had seen her outside under the cover of dark, talking to Jeremy, and she had seen Marie attach a letter to Ajax's collar, then send him out the door and in the direction of Devil's Bayou. Cinnamon wondered that Jeremy never came to supper anymore, never came in to see to her progress. She had been getting around without a cane recently, and like a child had been wanting to show him how strong she had gotten. She would never let him know, of course, but she missed him. Perhaps she would make a trip to Devil's Bayou to remind him of his promise to take her fishing. And his promise to teach her to waltz. The idea of dancing was frightening, because she was certain she would be very bad at it, but she had always wanted to dance.
Tybalt had followed Ajax on his secret errands, and knew that Ajax was, in fact, delivering letters to his master. The wolf would trot through the swampland between the two plantations, and right up the front steps of his master's home. He knew how to push the door open himself, and how to shut the door behind himself as well. Tybalt never could see much more than that, because the heavy velvet curtains were always drawn.
Finally, after about a week or two of hearing nothing from him whatever, Jeremy appeared one mid-morning. Cinnamon was on her hands and knees working in the garden when she heard him call to the house, and she leapt to her feet. Her hair was tied back in an unbecoming, loose topknot, and she was wearing her old, battered overalls with holes in the knees. Although the day was heavily overcast, she had still worked up a sweat, and when she had wiped at the sweat she had accumulated a crown of fine dirt across her forehead. She trotted as quickly as she could across the yard, up the porch steps and through the screen door.
“Mr. Jeremy is coming! I heard him holler!” Cinnamon announced generally to the household as she hurried up the stairs to her room to wash and change quickly.
“Jeremy!? Are you sure?” came Marie's voice from down the hall.
“I'm sure it was! I heard him holler!” Cinnamon shut her door and locked it behind her, a newly acquired habit. She always locked doors behind her now, even if she only planned to be through it for just a minute or two.
She took a quick look into the vanity, pulling her hair down as she did. She began slapping her hands together to get the mud and caked dirt off of them, but cringed when she saw how much it was getting all over the floor.
“Stupid!” she thought, furious.
The window caught her eye and she scampered over quickly, pulled up the glass and began slapping her hands together vigorously, knocking the dirt off and into the yard below.
“I should have worn those stupid gardening gloves,” she thought, criticizing herself for the the stubborn dirt under her fingernails, “Even if they are stupid and make my hands sweaty.”
Evangeline had been a few yards away from the garden, chopping wood. She'd heard Jeremy call as well, and was pleased that she was not covered in mud. She hurried inside and into the kitchen, took off her apron, and shook the wood shavings off of her dress. Her hair had been in a french braid, and so she shook it out into long, black waves and pinned it half back. She splashed some cool water over her face, then found her reflection in a very clean frying pan, and pinched some blood into her cheeks and bit some redness into her lips.
Marie didn't preen herself at all with the news of Jeremy's approach. She just went out to the porch and sat down in one of the rockers with one of her long-handled pipes, puffing away.
Evangeline had just stepped onto the porch with Marie when Jeremy's figure appeared from the treeline.
“I heard you was comin',” Marie greeted Jeremy unenthusiasticly, “What'd you tell your house guest? You tryin' to get the lot of us killed?”
Jeremy just smiled, “She's in New Orleans for a few days. I think she is still trying to get her claws on Gardette-LaPrete. You remember all that business, I'm sure.”
Marie looked unimpressed, “Yes, I remember. What on earth does she want with it? She's got the old Lalaurie place in New Orleans, doesn't she?”
“Well, Delphine has it,” Jeremy amended.
“And she's got Delphine,” Marie replied, “She always gets what she wants.”
“Not always,” replied an unsettled looking Jeremy.
“Damn near,” Marie muttered, sitting back into her rocker and again puffing away at her pipe.
“Perhaps we can discuss it this evening over supper?” Jeremy approached Evangeline and kissed her hand, “I think our talk of old business transactions are boring Miss Evangeline.”
“Not at all,” smiled Evangeline, “And I didn't know you had company. I didn't think you were home enough to have company.”
“Just a distant cousin,” Jeremy dismissed, “Not close enough to like, but close enough to not be quite able to send her away.”
“Oh, dear,” Evangeline laughed, leading Jeremy into the house, “I have a cousin like that. I've been brought up too well to outrightly shun the fellow, but I dread his letters and even more his company. He's a deceitful, unpleasant type of man.”
Jeremy laughed in spite of himself, “You know, he sounds very much like my cousin. Perhaps we could arrange a match.”
Marie followed them into the parlor, looking unamused the entire way.
“But where is Cinnamon?” Jeremy asked, upon having been seating and handed a glass of sweet tea, “I haven't seen her in a while, and I'd like to check on her progress.”
Marie 'humphed', but, much to Evangeline's relief, stood and left to go find Cinnamon.
Evangeline was glad to be left alone with Jeremy. She had never been terribly good at flirting, and something about Jeremy was so refined, so old-fashioned and southerly genteel, that just standing on the porch with him made her feel clumsy and cumbersome. She thought furiously for something pretty and intriguing to say.
“You're so terribly handsome,” she blurted suddenly.
Her cheeks began to burn the moment the words had escaped her. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had said it teasingly or offhandedly; but her statement had dripped with adoration and reeked of desperation. She briefly considered just hurrying back into the house, perhaps hiding in her room and feigning sudden illness- but that would be so manifestly obvious that it would only be pouring lemon juice all over her burn.
Jeremy had been leaning forward over the railing and looking off towards the garden when Evangeline's little confession had broken free. He turned his head to look at her and smiled.
“Not half so handsome as the beauties I am graced with at Eau d'Noir,” he answered without missing a beat.
He'd noticed the graceless, mortifying tone, Evangeline was certain. Jeremy noticed everything. He probably knew from one glance at her hair that it had been in a braid, pulled out, brushed and styled in anticipation of his arrival. Evangeline determined to despair and sit quietly in the rocker. Her resolve lasted nearly thirty seconds, when another statement escaped her.
“I wish you had kissed me, that night,” she wished she could stop, but she stammered on, relieved the words were coming, but horrified that she couldn't think of a more dignified way to say them, “I mean, I know it was a bad time, with Cinnamon, and all, but I can't help but wonder... Did you want to kiss me? Was it all in my imagination, or have I gone mad, or do you, do you want to kiss me?”
Jeremy reprimanded himself internally. He had deliberately secured her affections, knowing it was the quickest and easiest way to secure her loyalty and trust. It was a default reflex; he had momentarily forgotten that he was trying to stop doing exactly that. It was a monstrous tactic he had learned from his current house guest- not someone he wanted to emulate anymore. As good as he had was at getting himself into this situation, he had no experience is getting back out. He wanted to be honest with her, but he needed her trust and loyalty, and soon he would need it more than ever.
He said nothing, but straightened up from his position leaning on the porch rail, turned towards Evangeline, leaned close to her, paused just a moment, and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips. He heard footsteps coming near; not so close that Cinnamon would see (he knew it was her from her gait, still a little heavy on one side) but close enough that Evangeline would not be able to pursue the subject further. He loathed himself for doing it, and silently promised Evangeline that he would find a way to repay her.
Cinnamon hated that her heart jumped when she saw Jeremy. She knew that every girl's heart must jump when he came into view, and she taciturnly begrudged the flutters and jumps and foolishness inside her.
“Jeremy!” she greeted trough the screen door, careful not to be overzealous, “Come inside!”
Jeremy stepped inside. Ajax's tail was wagging ecclesiastically as he looked up at his master, and from the stairs, Tybalt looked down at him suspiciously.
Color had come back to Cinnamon's cheeks and lips, and her blue eyes had sparkle in them again. Jeremy reached down and grasped her in a bear hug, lifting her up off her feet, and eliciting a surprised laugh from the wriggling girl.
“Jeremy! What are you doing!?” Cinnamon laughed in spite of herself.
Jeremy held her against himself just a moment longer than usual, feeling her heartbeat – stronger now than ever before, that heartbeat rushing her hot, sweet blood through her veins and warming her soft body pressed against him. Her laugh reminded him of his late wife; the sound wasn't similar, but the place is came from, deep inside, was very much alike.
“Seeing if you are strong enough! Today is the day!” he announced.
“What day?” Cinnamon asked, then gasped as she guessed, “Fishing! You'll really take me fishing for alligators!”
Marie did not look happy, but simply frowned more deeply.
*
Jeremy had a small rowboat tied up near one of the muddy banks on his property. There was a bit of muddy water and slime sloshing at the bottom of the boat. Such was commonplace in boats, but it had always bothered Cinnamon greatly nonetheless. Jeremy climbed in first, then offered his hand to Cinnamon.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I'd rather depend on my own. Steadier that way, I think.”
She grasped the edges of the boat with her hands, and stepped one leg in, successfully avoiding the swamp muck all around. She considered her balance, and the pushed off with the other leg, but the boat tipped in the water, and she would have toppled overboard or tipped the whole boat if Jeremy had not reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her down into the bottom of the boat, correcting the center of gravity.
“Ugh!” Cinnamon exclaimed, “Gross! Yech!”
The boat's scummy swamp water had gotten on her after all.
Jeremy laughed under his breath as he sat her back into her seat.
“Thank you, I mean,” Cinnamon said, still making a disgusted face and glaring at the wet spots left on her from the little misadventure.
“You're welcome,” Jeremy replied, pulling the oars through the black water and beginning to row them out into the bayou, “People can help you sometimes, miss independence. You don't have to do everything all on your own.”
Cinnamon didn't reply, but smiled softly to herself. The couple traveled on in silence for a time, until Jeremy looked around and seemed satisfied. They stopped and he tossed some heavy, smelly-baited hooks out the back.
Cinnamon wrinkled her nose, “What kind of eat was that?”
“Spoiled kind. Deer. They love it all rotten like that,” Jeremy reached back into the basket which the hooks had come from and retrieved a small slice of putrid meat.
He waved in Cinnamon's general direction, causing a great deal of objection and laughter from her end. He tossed it over the side.
“You laugh reminds me of Bella's,” he said wistfully.
“Bella?” Cinnamon encouraged.
“Bella Beauregard,” Jeremy sighed, looking out over the overcast swamp, “Bella Beauregard Tarleton, as she was for a little while. I was married, once. A lifetime ago. We were married secretly when we were very young, but she was taken from me just a year after that. It had to be a secret because we were so very young and her father would never have approved. He was probably right- I was nineteen and she sixteen. But we were sweet secret lovers, and mad for each other, sneaking back and forth at night to steal minutes together. She was such a sweet, happy, beautiful thing. Not as bold as you, Miss Cinnamon, but brave.”
Cinnamon was taken aback a little, but her heart went out to her friend.
“I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I never knew. I never knew you had a wife. How did she die? Can I ask that?” Cinnamon hoped she hadn't crossed the line, as she sometimes unintentionally did.
“It's alright; I want to talk about her,” Jeremy reassured Cinnamon, “I want you to know about her.”
A moment passed, and then Jeremy continued, “Brain fever. And a disease like Lupus. It wasn't pleasant. I wasn't allowed near her, allowed to talk to her. I think her father blamed me. Her younger sister was enraged; she'd always insisted that she would marry before Bella, and she fancied herself in love with me – she was a monster the entire ordeal. Bella's sister is the house guest I am currently entertaining; so you can imagine how glad I am to escape her whenever possible.”
The line tugged slightly, and Jeremy snapped to attention, but nothing further happened, so he sat back down.
“How long ago was this?” Cinnamon asked, secretly dying to hear more about Bella.
Jeremy cast a wry smile at her, “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”
Cinnamon smiled, “I never know how old a person is. I can never tell, and I don't much care. But now you have gotten me curious.”
Jeremy chuckled a little, and replied, “I am about thirty years old.”
Cinnamon thought wordlessly that thirty was a very good age for anyone. Solid. Interesting. Intriguing.
A deep rumbling roar came from somewhere near, but unseen in the swamp. It sounded to Cinnamon like a cinderblock being dragged across pavement. An alligator!
The next moment Cinnamon found herself submerged in the black water. Her lungs were bursting and she couldn't see more than inches in any direction, neither did she know which way to swim for air. She blew some bubbles, spending a little of her precious oxygen and swam in the direction they led her. Her head popped above the surface and she gasped in a ragged breath. She thrashed about, screaming for Jeremy, and suddenly bumped into something solid as it passed. Something definitely not Jeremy. Her blood turned cold so fast it sent a shock straight through her. The massive gator swam on a few feet and then turned. His ugly gray-green head could have bitten her in two. The ugly monster leered at her and hissed, showing his frightening yellow teeth. His green eyes surveyed her cooly, and Cinnamon then had a strange realization. He had stopped hissing and leering. He simply sat, and looked.
A gasp for air and a thump on the boat told Cinnamon that Jeremy had surfaced. She did not turn her head to look for him; she kept her eyes locked with the monster before her.
“Cinnamon!” she heard his voice call to her in alarm, and a splash told her that he was going to swim towards her.
The alligator growled and hissed again.
“Stay where you are, Jeremy,” she said, her voice calm and soothing, “Don't come any closer.”
The alligator settled a bit.
“Jeremy,” she continued, keeping her voice melodic and soft, “tip the boat back upright. Slowly, slowly.
There was some sloshing, and then a soft thump.
Jeremy imitated Cinnamon's soft tone, “Alright. Come towards the sound of my voice.”
Cinnamon began to sway softly, humming a low tune. The alligator seemed soothed my her song and dance, and swayed with her, following her movements exactly. Little by little, she inched back towards the boat, swaying softly and humming her tune all the way. She had nearly reached the boat when Jeremy's strong hands grasped her promptly and firmly, lifting her out of the water and into the boat with one deft movement. The alligator hissed again, but Cinnamon bobbed and swayed, and little dance, and hummed her tune still, her eyes never leaving the reptiles'. The alligator sank a little deeper into the water and blew a few bubbles, then rumbled, sending rippled across the water.
“Go on now, Mr. Alligator,” Cinnamon instructed sweetly, sweeping her hand in a dismissive fashion.
She heard Jeremy reach for his harpoon, but with her other hand she gestured for him to be still. The alligator blew a few more bubbles, then sank below the water, and they soon saw his retreating outline and he headed off, deeper into the bayou.
Only then did Cinnamon turn to look at Jeremy. His face was white, the harpoon still in his hand. His eyes were wide, and he was utterly speechless.
“I didn't want to kill him,” Cinnamon said after a moment.
“You charmed him,” Jeremy said, as if to himself, “You just charmed a crocodile. The only person I've known to do that was Alyce. I didn't think I've ever seen anyone else do it.”
“He was an alligator,” Cinnamon said softly.
“What?” Jeremy seemed shaken from his reverie.
“He was an alligator. You said crocodile. He was an alligator.”
Jeremy turned the boat around and headed back for the shore.
“I think that's enough fishing for one day,” he said.
Jeremy had arrived back at Devil’s Bayou in the early hours before sunrise. His uninvited guest was awake, and expecting him.
His boots had barely touched the tiles of the grand foyer when he heard the rustle of her skirts and her light footfalls coming down the stairs and headed his direction. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for her. This fight had been boiling low inside him for a long time- and soon it would come frothing and steaming over. But not tonight. Tonight there were wtill games yet to play.
She stopped just a few steps from the bottom of the staircase, her eyes even with his. She was a beautiful creature. She looked a great deal like her sister; the one redeeming quality Jeremy could find in her. When he saw his lovely guest he could not help but seeing her sister, his long dead wife.
The two women shared perfect, cupid-bow lips, the same glittering eyes, the same soft, dark hair. Jeremy could still remember the sound of his wife’s voice, the smell of her skin.
“I know where you have been,” Jeremy’s guest snarled, barely taking a breath before continuing, “I forbid you from going there again. Do you hear me? I forbid you. I’ve taken your little tantrums and smiled while you play ‘Vivre la Résistance’ but the game is over now. I’ve had enough. You are mine; and I’ve indulged you far too long. You’re going to be a good little bitch now, and you’ll come when I call.”
She was several inches shorter than Jeremy, but she was strong. She reached out and took him by his collar, pulling his lips close to hers.
“You belong to me, Tarleton,” she whispered softly, leaning forward slightly and pressing her perfect lips against his.
Her lips were sweet and her tongue was sweeter still; she was intoxicating. Jeremy kissed her back, placing his hand in the small of her back and laying her down on the stairs.
She flashed her perfect smile at him, triumphant sparks in her eyes. She knew he would obey her; he loved her. Everyone loved her, she was so very pretty.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the next couple of days, Marie continued with her strange herbs and spells. 'Remedies' she called them. Once or twice Cinnamon had seen her outside under the cover of dark, talking to Jeremy, and she had seen Marie attach a letter to Ajax's collar, then send him out the door and in the direction of Devil's Bayou. Cinnamon wondered that Jeremy never came to supper anymore, never came in to see to her progress. She had been getting around without a cane recently, and like a child had been wanting to show him how strong she had gotten. She would never let him know, of course, but she missed him. Perhaps she would make a trip to Devil's Bayou to remind him of his promise to take her fishing. And his promise to teach her to waltz. The idea of dancing was frightening, because she was certain she would be very bad at it, but she had always wanted to dance.
Tybalt had followed Ajax on his secret errands, and knew that Ajax was, in fact, delivering letters to his master. The wolf would trot through the swampland between the two plantations, and right up the front steps of his master's home. He knew how to push the door open himself, and how to shut the door behind himself as well. Tybalt never could see much more than that, because the heavy velvet curtains were always drawn.
Finally, after about a week or two of hearing nothing from him whatever, Jeremy appeared one mid-morning. Cinnamon was on her hands and knees working in the garden when she heard him call to the house, and she leapt to her feet. Her hair was tied back in an unbecoming, loose topknot, and she was wearing her old, battered overalls with holes in the knees. Although the day was heavily overcast, she had still worked up a sweat, and when she had wiped at the sweat she had accumulated a crown of fine dirt across her forehead. She trotted as quickly as she could across the yard, up the porch steps and through the screen door.
“Mr. Jeremy is coming! I heard him holler!” Cinnamon announced generally to the household as she hurried up the stairs to her room to wash and change quickly.
“Jeremy!? Are you sure?” came Marie's voice from down the hall.
“I'm sure it was! I heard him holler!” Cinnamon shut her door and locked it behind her, a newly acquired habit. She always locked doors behind her now, even if she only planned to be through it for just a minute or two.
She took a quick look into the vanity, pulling her hair down as she did. She began slapping her hands together to get the mud and caked dirt off of them, but cringed when she saw how much it was getting all over the floor.
“Stupid!” she thought, furious.
The window caught her eye and she scampered over quickly, pulled up the glass and began slapping her hands together vigorously, knocking the dirt off and into the yard below.
“I should have worn those stupid gardening gloves,” she thought, criticizing herself for the the stubborn dirt under her fingernails, “Even if they are stupid and make my hands sweaty.”
Evangeline had been a few yards away from the garden, chopping wood. She'd heard Jeremy call as well, and was pleased that she was not covered in mud. She hurried inside and into the kitchen, took off her apron, and shook the wood shavings off of her dress. Her hair had been in a french braid, and so she shook it out into long, black waves and pinned it half back. She splashed some cool water over her face, then found her reflection in a very clean frying pan, and pinched some blood into her cheeks and bit some redness into her lips.
Marie didn't preen herself at all with the news of Jeremy's approach. She just went out to the porch and sat down in one of the rockers with one of her long-handled pipes, puffing away.
Evangeline had just stepped onto the porch with Marie when Jeremy's figure appeared from the treeline.
“I heard you was comin',” Marie greeted Jeremy unenthusiasticly, “What'd you tell your house guest? You tryin' to get the lot of us killed?”
Jeremy just smiled, “She's in New Orleans for a few days. I think she is still trying to get her claws on Gardette-LaPrete. You remember all that business, I'm sure.”
Marie looked unimpressed, “Yes, I remember. What on earth does she want with it? She's got the old Lalaurie place in New Orleans, doesn't she?”
“Well, Delphine has it,” Jeremy amended.
“And she's got Delphine,” Marie replied, “She always gets what she wants.”
“Not always,” replied an unsettled looking Jeremy.
“Damn near,” Marie muttered, sitting back into her rocker and again puffing away at her pipe.
“Perhaps we can discuss it this evening over supper?” Jeremy approached Evangeline and kissed her hand, “I think our talk of old business transactions are boring Miss Evangeline.”
“Not at all,” smiled Evangeline, “And I didn't know you had company. I didn't think you were home enough to have company.”
“Just a distant cousin,” Jeremy dismissed, “Not close enough to like, but close enough to not be quite able to send her away.”
“Oh, dear,” Evangeline laughed, leading Jeremy into the house, “I have a cousin like that. I've been brought up too well to outrightly shun the fellow, but I dread his letters and even more his company. He's a deceitful, unpleasant type of man.”
Jeremy laughed in spite of himself, “You know, he sounds very much like my cousin. Perhaps we could arrange a match.”
Marie followed them into the parlor, looking unamused the entire way.
“But where is Cinnamon?” Jeremy asked, upon having been seating and handed a glass of sweet tea, “I haven't seen her in a while, and I'd like to check on her progress.”
Marie 'humphed', but, much to Evangeline's relief, stood and left to go find Cinnamon.
Evangeline was glad to be left alone with Jeremy. She had never been terribly good at flirting, and something about Jeremy was so refined, so old-fashioned and southerly genteel, that just standing on the porch with him made her feel clumsy and cumbersome. She thought furiously for something pretty and intriguing to say.
“You're so terribly handsome,” she blurted suddenly.
Her cheeks began to burn the moment the words had escaped her. It wouldn't have been so bad if she had said it teasingly or offhandedly; but her statement had dripped with adoration and reeked of desperation. She briefly considered just hurrying back into the house, perhaps hiding in her room and feigning sudden illness- but that would be so manifestly obvious that it would only be pouring lemon juice all over her burn.
Jeremy had been leaning forward over the railing and looking off towards the garden when Evangeline's little confession had broken free. He turned his head to look at her and smiled.
“Not half so handsome as the beauties I am graced with at Eau d'Noir,” he answered without missing a beat.
He'd noticed the graceless, mortifying tone, Evangeline was certain. Jeremy noticed everything. He probably knew from one glance at her hair that it had been in a braid, pulled out, brushed and styled in anticipation of his arrival. Evangeline determined to despair and sit quietly in the rocker. Her resolve lasted nearly thirty seconds, when another statement escaped her.
“I wish you had kissed me, that night,” she wished she could stop, but she stammered on, relieved the words were coming, but horrified that she couldn't think of a more dignified way to say them, “I mean, I know it was a bad time, with Cinnamon, and all, but I can't help but wonder... Did you want to kiss me? Was it all in my imagination, or have I gone mad, or do you, do you want to kiss me?”
Jeremy reprimanded himself internally. He had deliberately secured her affections, knowing it was the quickest and easiest way to secure her loyalty and trust. It was a default reflex; he had momentarily forgotten that he was trying to stop doing exactly that. It was a monstrous tactic he had learned from his current house guest- not someone he wanted to emulate anymore. As good as he had was at getting himself into this situation, he had no experience is getting back out. He wanted to be honest with her, but he needed her trust and loyalty, and soon he would need it more than ever.
He said nothing, but straightened up from his position leaning on the porch rail, turned towards Evangeline, leaned close to her, paused just a moment, and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips. He heard footsteps coming near; not so close that Cinnamon would see (he knew it was her from her gait, still a little heavy on one side) but close enough that Evangeline would not be able to pursue the subject further. He loathed himself for doing it, and silently promised Evangeline that he would find a way to repay her.
Cinnamon hated that her heart jumped when she saw Jeremy. She knew that every girl's heart must jump when he came into view, and she taciturnly begrudged the flutters and jumps and foolishness inside her.
“Jeremy!” she greeted trough the screen door, careful not to be overzealous, “Come inside!”
Jeremy stepped inside. Ajax's tail was wagging ecclesiastically as he looked up at his master, and from the stairs, Tybalt looked down at him suspiciously.
Color had come back to Cinnamon's cheeks and lips, and her blue eyes had sparkle in them again. Jeremy reached down and grasped her in a bear hug, lifting her up off her feet, and eliciting a surprised laugh from the wriggling girl.
“Jeremy! What are you doing!?” Cinnamon laughed in spite of herself.
Jeremy held her against himself just a moment longer than usual, feeling her heartbeat – stronger now than ever before, that heartbeat rushing her hot, sweet blood through her veins and warming her soft body pressed against him. Her laugh reminded him of his late wife; the sound wasn't similar, but the place is came from, deep inside, was very much alike.
“Seeing if you are strong enough! Today is the day!” he announced.
“What day?” Cinnamon asked, then gasped as she guessed, “Fishing! You'll really take me fishing for alligators!”
Marie did not look happy, but simply frowned more deeply.
*
Jeremy had a small rowboat tied up near one of the muddy banks on his property. There was a bit of muddy water and slime sloshing at the bottom of the boat. Such was commonplace in boats, but it had always bothered Cinnamon greatly nonetheless. Jeremy climbed in first, then offered his hand to Cinnamon.
“Thank you,” she said, “but I'd rather depend on my own. Steadier that way, I think.”
She grasped the edges of the boat with her hands, and stepped one leg in, successfully avoiding the swamp muck all around. She considered her balance, and the pushed off with the other leg, but the boat tipped in the water, and she would have toppled overboard or tipped the whole boat if Jeremy had not reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her down into the bottom of the boat, correcting the center of gravity.
“Ugh!” Cinnamon exclaimed, “Gross! Yech!”
The boat's scummy swamp water had gotten on her after all.
Jeremy laughed under his breath as he sat her back into her seat.
“Thank you, I mean,” Cinnamon said, still making a disgusted face and glaring at the wet spots left on her from the little misadventure.
“You're welcome,” Jeremy replied, pulling the oars through the black water and beginning to row them out into the bayou, “People can help you sometimes, miss independence. You don't have to do everything all on your own.”
Cinnamon didn't reply, but smiled softly to herself. The couple traveled on in silence for a time, until Jeremy looked around and seemed satisfied. They stopped and he tossed some heavy, smelly-baited hooks out the back.
Cinnamon wrinkled her nose, “What kind of eat was that?”
“Spoiled kind. Deer. They love it all rotten like that,” Jeremy reached back into the basket which the hooks had come from and retrieved a small slice of putrid meat.
He waved in Cinnamon's general direction, causing a great deal of objection and laughter from her end. He tossed it over the side.
“You laugh reminds me of Bella's,” he said wistfully.
“Bella?” Cinnamon encouraged.
“Bella Beauregard,” Jeremy sighed, looking out over the overcast swamp, “Bella Beauregard Tarleton, as she was for a little while. I was married, once. A lifetime ago. We were married secretly when we were very young, but she was taken from me just a year after that. It had to be a secret because we were so very young and her father would never have approved. He was probably right- I was nineteen and she sixteen. But we were sweet secret lovers, and mad for each other, sneaking back and forth at night to steal minutes together. She was such a sweet, happy, beautiful thing. Not as bold as you, Miss Cinnamon, but brave.”
Cinnamon was taken aback a little, but her heart went out to her friend.
“I'm so sorry, Jeremy. I never knew. I never knew you had a wife. How did she die? Can I ask that?” Cinnamon hoped she hadn't crossed the line, as she sometimes unintentionally did.
“It's alright; I want to talk about her,” Jeremy reassured Cinnamon, “I want you to know about her.”
A moment passed, and then Jeremy continued, “Brain fever. And a disease like Lupus. It wasn't pleasant. I wasn't allowed near her, allowed to talk to her. I think her father blamed me. Her younger sister was enraged; she'd always insisted that she would marry before Bella, and she fancied herself in love with me – she was a monster the entire ordeal. Bella's sister is the house guest I am currently entertaining; so you can imagine how glad I am to escape her whenever possible.”
The line tugged slightly, and Jeremy snapped to attention, but nothing further happened, so he sat back down.
“How long ago was this?” Cinnamon asked, secretly dying to hear more about Bella.
Jeremy cast a wry smile at her, “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”
Cinnamon smiled, “I never know how old a person is. I can never tell, and I don't much care. But now you have gotten me curious.”
Jeremy chuckled a little, and replied, “I am about thirty years old.”
Cinnamon thought wordlessly that thirty was a very good age for anyone. Solid. Interesting. Intriguing.
A deep rumbling roar came from somewhere near, but unseen in the swamp. It sounded to Cinnamon like a cinderblock being dragged across pavement. An alligator!
The next moment Cinnamon found herself submerged in the black water. Her lungs were bursting and she couldn't see more than inches in any direction, neither did she know which way to swim for air. She blew some bubbles, spending a little of her precious oxygen and swam in the direction they led her. Her head popped above the surface and she gasped in a ragged breath. She thrashed about, screaming for Jeremy, and suddenly bumped into something solid as it passed. Something definitely not Jeremy. Her blood turned cold so fast it sent a shock straight through her. The massive gator swam on a few feet and then turned. His ugly gray-green head could have bitten her in two. The ugly monster leered at her and hissed, showing his frightening yellow teeth. His green eyes surveyed her cooly, and Cinnamon then had a strange realization. He had stopped hissing and leering. He simply sat, and looked.
A gasp for air and a thump on the boat told Cinnamon that Jeremy had surfaced. She did not turn her head to look for him; she kept her eyes locked with the monster before her.
“Cinnamon!” she heard his voice call to her in alarm, and a splash told her that he was going to swim towards her.
The alligator growled and hissed again.
“Stay where you are, Jeremy,” she said, her voice calm and soothing, “Don't come any closer.”
The alligator settled a bit.
“Jeremy,” she continued, keeping her voice melodic and soft, “tip the boat back upright. Slowly, slowly.
There was some sloshing, and then a soft thump.
Jeremy imitated Cinnamon's soft tone, “Alright. Come towards the sound of my voice.”
Cinnamon began to sway softly, humming a low tune. The alligator seemed soothed my her song and dance, and swayed with her, following her movements exactly. Little by little, she inched back towards the boat, swaying softly and humming her tune all the way. She had nearly reached the boat when Jeremy's strong hands grasped her promptly and firmly, lifting her out of the water and into the boat with one deft movement. The alligator hissed again, but Cinnamon bobbed and swayed, and little dance, and hummed her tune still, her eyes never leaving the reptiles'. The alligator sank a little deeper into the water and blew a few bubbles, then rumbled, sending rippled across the water.
“Go on now, Mr. Alligator,” Cinnamon instructed sweetly, sweeping her hand in a dismissive fashion.
She heard Jeremy reach for his harpoon, but with her other hand she gestured for him to be still. The alligator blew a few more bubbles, then sank below the water, and they soon saw his retreating outline and he headed off, deeper into the bayou.
Only then did Cinnamon turn to look at Jeremy. His face was white, the harpoon still in his hand. His eyes were wide, and he was utterly speechless.
“I didn't want to kill him,” Cinnamon said after a moment.
“You charmed him,” Jeremy said, as if to himself, “You just charmed a crocodile. The only person I've known to do that was Alyce. I didn't think I've ever seen anyone else do it.”
“He was an alligator,” Cinnamon said softly.
“What?” Jeremy seemed shaken from his reverie.
“He was an alligator. You said crocodile. He was an alligator.”
Jeremy turned the boat around and headed back for the shore.
“I think that's enough fishing for one day,” he said.
No comments:
Post a Comment