East of Orleans by Renee' Irvin Page A

nothing. If she told them about Jacob Hartwell raping her, then she knew that her mama and granny would lose the farm. Rollins Hartwell would toss them out so fast they would not even have a chance to sell the place. If she told them the baby belonged to Tom and then it didn’t, if it turned out to have those same brown eyes as the devil, then she would have ruined Tom’s life. No, she must not tell the truth. She must leave and go away.
    “I ain’t saying, Granny. I ain’t saying, please, don’t ask me again. And don’t you go and say a word about this to Tom. You hear? You leave that to me. If you have any ideas about talking to him, you’d better get that thought right out of your mind.”
    “I reckon, but child, I will tell you; this won’t last forever. Tom’s going to ask questions. He’s stubborn as a mule. I won’t tell him anything. ‘Course, what about Jesse? He’s got eyes and ears. He’s seen you sick and vomiting. This ain’t gonna be easy.”
    Isabella stared into the distance. “Jesse ain’t gonna say a word. He knows what it’s like to be ruined and desperate for a place to go.”
    Isabella pulled her dress out from between her legs and looked out at the marigolds swaying in the wind. Granny exhaled and said, “We’ll figure this out. The three of us will talk about it. This ain’t something that I need to get my gun out and use, is it?”
    “No, Granny, no, it’s not.”
    “Isabella, I can’t see you offering yourself to just anybody. It didn’t happen that way, and Tom’s no fool, he’ll know that, too. And then I’m afraid you’ll be in a bigger mess than you are now.”
    Isabella gazed down and walked toward the barn to see Sonny. He had recovered after her father’s death, and for that she was grateful.
    When she finally headed back to the cabin the night seemed darker than most. She walked onto the front porch and heard the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking. Isabella sat down in the wooden swing that her daddy had built for her mama’s birthday last year. Tick raised his head, looked over at her and then laid his head back down. She could see a sparkle of lights through the woods; it must be coon hunters. She wondered if even a coon hunter would want a ruined woman. She figured not. Especially one that didn’t even know who had ruined her. She thought about Sam Johnson and Sadie Lee. She reckoned that she was in better shape than Sam was, but it wouldn’t be long until everybody in the valley would be certain that her mind was as unsound as Sadie Lee’s.
    Isabella closed her eyes, breathed deeply and smelled the honeysuckles. She thought about when she was twelve and she had tried to follow Tom down to the river. He shooed her away. As he walked, he would turn around every so often to see if she was still following him and he would tell her to go home. After a while he got tired of looking back to see if she was still there, so he would stop and motion for her to come on. They would spend the afternoon fishing and throwing rocks in the river. In the evening, they would catch lightning bugs in the dark. But her favorite time was when Tom would tell her stories. She remembered listening to Tom’s voice and loving his words.
    Isabella turned to the light of a candle inside the house. Granny and Mama had moved from the kitchen into the main room. They had been talking for hours. She was sure that they were talking about her and she did not want to listen.
    She stared out into the woods and wondered where the Indian women with unsound minds were sent off. Maybe they were put out into the woods to starve. She wished if this had to happen, that she had lived during the war. She was certain that there were a lot of women who had been ruined with unsound minds back then. However, that was then, and this was now, and what was she going to do?

    “I’ll write my cousin Allettie McGillivray. That’s what I’ll do,” said Granny.
    “You sure there ain’t going to be