Chapter Eleven: Secret Meeting

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“Ow! Could you watch where you’re sticking that pin, Madame?” June rubbed her wounded side as she glared at Madame St. Claire’s white head, bent low as she tucked, folded, and pinned June’s dress to the proper fit. “If I bleed on this dress you’re paying for it.”

Crystal exchanged an exasperated look with Madame St. Claire. June had been standing on a small platform in the tiny dress shop on St. Phillip street for nearly an hour now, getting her bridesmaid’s dress fitted, and they were barely any closer to finishing than they had been when they started. This would not be so upsetting if it were not for the fact that they still had to go to find shoes to match the dress. “It would be easier for Madame St. Claire not to prick you, June, if you were to stop fidgeting so,” Crystal pointed out. She rose from the armed chair she had occupied for the past hour, and made her way across the small dress shop, slowly circling June as she closely examined the deep scarlet ball gown. Crystal had picked the dark silk fabric to accent the colors of fall, the time when the wedding would take place. The design was from a Paris fashion magazine, the bodice overlapped at an angle. The sleeves were short and had excess fabric that draped over the shoulders and a full skirt that brushed the floor. She thought it a beautiful gown and was rather proud of her choice, but June seemed to think otherwise.

“Why did you have to pick such a dark color, Crystal?” she asked plucking at the dress as if it were a dead animal in her path. “It’s like this is a funeral we’re attending. A light pink would have been much prettier don’t you think?”

Crystal rolled her eyes behind June’s back. “Yes, maybe if it were a spring wedding but I think this better suits the season.”

“But this shade doesn’t suit me at all,” June whined.

“Don’t be silly, this color looks gorgeous on you. It brings out the gold in your hair.”

June sighed sullenly. “I suppose if you like it that’s fine, it’s your wedding after all.”

“Don’t remind me.”

June flipped her hair this way and that obviously trying to see what Crystal saw in the dress. “Do you think Phillip will notice me in this dress? I need something that will capture his eye. He was paying far too much attention to your sister at the picnic the other day.”

Crystal laughed. “You have nothing to worry about there, my dear, Dawn has far more intriguing prospects than Mr. Almonaster. But I would suggest watching him around that Ruby Turead, it was rumored once that they were engaged you know?”

“Really?” June said bemused. “Odd, I never heard about that. Now that I think about it, though, he was dancing with her an awful lot at your engagement party.”

Crystal nodded in agreement though she couldn’t quite remember anything about her engagement ball except for the sick feeling she’d carried the entire evening.

“Ah well.” June seemed to shove aside the troubling thoughts for another time. “I won’t concern myself with it. I’m hungry,” she abruptly changed the subject, a pout forming on her mouth. “Are you almost done?” she demanded of Madame St. Claire, who threw an aggravated look up at her saucy costumer before rising from her knees.

“Yes, madamoiselle, I’m finally finished. If you would carefully remove the dress I can have it altered and back to you in a few weeks.”

“Oh good.” June stepped from the little stage and awkwardly made her way behind the changing wall.

When she reappeared she was back in the simple yellow day dress she’d had on when they came in. After carefully giving the bridesmaid gown back to Madame St. Claire the two young women left the shop arm in arm.

St. Claire’s was part of a two story building on St. Phillip’s street that had once served as a townhouse. Across the street was Café des Refugies a small restaurant well renowned for it’s quaint atmosphere and sweet coffee. There was a little gated area out in front of the shop that was furnished with wrought-iron tables and chairs set under a thick magnolia tree, the shade looked quit inviting so Crystal did not resist when June dragged her across the street. Though she had her misgivings about sitting in a café across the street from Hotel de la Marines, and the man who lived inside.

Nevertheless, they sat at one of the tables and ordered coffee and cake from a small creole man with a mustache too big for his face. As they waited sipping their beverages, the conversation between them was light and unimportant. Crystal’s gaze often flickering to the hotel when she thought she saw Joseph out of the corner of her eye coming out the front door or peeking through an upstairs window. All the while distractedly listening to June’s re-account of last nights opera at which Crystal had been present though this didn’t seem to faze June in the least, repeating every detail as if Crystal had begged to know. “And do you remember when we ran into William Dreax. I do believe that man is everywhere we go have you noticed?”

Crystal shrugged, eyes once again traveling from her friend’s face to the building across the street. “Not really.”

“Well I have, he’s –Crystal, what do you keep looking at?” June swung around in her chair, searching for the point of interest. Though she obviously saw nothing that could be distracting. “Am I boring you, darling, or are you just tired?” June asked turning back to her. Crystal was surprised to see a sympathetic look on her face. “I know we’ve been out all day, and I apologize for taking so long in the dress shop, but am I so dull that you can’t even pay attention to what I’m saying?”

With a sigh Crystal rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry, I really am tired, this whole wedding thing is really getting to me, I suppose.” Why have I become so selfish lately? she wondered. All of her time and energy were spent dwelling on two men, Charles and Joseph, though the latter of the two was the reason for her lack of rest. She couldn’t convince herself that he was as vicious as he had made out to be a fortnight ago, and she kept hearing that witch’s words in her head, ‘You cannot stop it.’ Maybe not, but she had to try. She would bet her life that he was there now, only yards from her, nearly driving her mad even from a distance. She had to see him, even if he didn’t want to see her.

June patted Crystal’s hand comfortingly. “I understand, Crystal, maybe we can finish shopping another time.” She smiled sympathetically, pulling Crystal to her feet she led her out the gate of the café.

“I think I will go home and rest,” Crystal said once they neared their carriages, though she had already made up her mind to do otherwise.

June nodded. “You do that.” She leaned in and kissed Crystal’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.” With that she disappeared inside her coach.

Crystal waited until her friend’s coach was out of sight before turning to Big Ben who was waiting to assist her into the coach. “Ben, if you’ll just wait awhile longer I have a small matter to attend to before we go.”

Ben nodded. “My time is yo’ time, Miss Crystal.” Smiling, she hurried across the street and into the old hotel.

There was no answer when she knocked upon his door, undeterred she tried the knob as she’d done before, wondering as it easily twisted in her hand why he never remembered to lock it. Peeking inside, she saw him sprawled on the bed fully clothed, his arm thrown over his eyes as if to block out the light. It was obvious that he had been too tired to even bother to lift the covers.

Crystal watched him closely, expecting to feel something like fear or disgust, but instead she had a deep feeling of pity for this exhausted young man. And again longed to know what in his past had made him the way he was.

Quietly closing the door, she crossed the room and snatched a throw cover off the back of a chair. She flipped the blanket up to cover him, in a blur of movement he was up. She let out a shriek of surprise and tried to back away but the familiar steel like grip took hold of her wrists. For an instant she was terrified, desperately trying to break free of his grasp. She screamed for help and he released one of her arms to clamp a hand over her mouth. Jerking her around, he caught her against himself. She struggled violently, but to no avail, she was no match for him and he held her fast with little effort.

After a moment she became more aggressive and with a sharp twist of her wrist he forced her to stop fighting him and be still, at the risk of a broken arm.

“Hush,” he commanded quietly, his mouth close to her ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Calm down, you’re safe.”

It took her a second to process his words, her heart beat wildly inside her chest and her head was pounding like so many drums, the entire world seemed out of focus. At the same time relief overwhelmed her and she let out a quiet whimper of understanding, he relaxed his hold on her arm, letting his hand fall from her face so she could more easily breathe. “You just surprised me is all. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Crystal nodded, too out of breath to speak. She soaked in the sound of his gentle voice, suddenly sure that the animal he had become behind the church that day was not the real him. She had been stupid to sneak up on him while he was sleeping. “I’m sorry I startled you,” she finally managed her voice hoarse from shouting.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he said seeming unconcerned by her apology, fingers still loosely circling her wrist and she could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back. Oddly a soothing remedy to her frazzled nerves. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against his well muscled shoulder not at all concerned with how inappropriate the gesture was. “I didn’t think I would either.” she murmured.

“No, you don’t understand, Crys.” Joseph lifted her off of him as if she weighed nothing and turned her around so that she faced him. “I didn’t want you to come back.”

Crystal stared unblinkingly into his eyes for a moment before placing a simple question.. “Why?”

“Because you’re not safe with me,” he insisted. “I’ve tried to tell you before but you don’t seem to understand. Why do you think I turned on you like I did back at the cathedral? I know it’s hard to take in, but you’re in serious danger around me.”

Crystal was surprised by the intensity of his words, surely it was not as grave as he thought. Her mere presence couldn’t be reason enough to commit murder. “I’ll take the chance,” she said nonchalantly. Moving away from him, she once again explored his bedroom. She took in the empty bottle of whiskey discarded in the corner and the dozens of cigarette buds that littered the floor near the hearth, where he had obviously been aiming to throw them.

“Crys,” Joseph said sharply, plainly irritated that she was not taking him seriously. She looked up with a patient expression on her face, one she often gave to her little brothers when they wanted to explain to her how tragic it was that they had been spanked. “I’m not what you think I am –”

“How do you know what I think you are?” she demanded, cutting him off. “I see the way you hide your past– your grief. Your life is one big secret full of regrets, and you wish the world would leave you alone to dwell in it. I’m not going to.”

Joseph dropped his head in his hands. “You don’t know that, you don’t know anything about me . . .”

“Then tell me,” she pressed. “Tell me everything, Joseph, let me help you.” Her words echoed inside her head as if they were spoken in a deep cave. Her eyes widened in alarm as she remembered her dream self speaking the very same words in a similar looking room. For an instant she was back in her dream, the bedchamber suddenly dark and cold. Joseph sat with his head in his hands, hopelessness seemingly drowning him. ‘You’re the only one that can help me, but it would hurt you and I can’t bear to hurt you.’

Crystal blinked and the scene was gone, replaced by one that eerily resembled it. She felt lightheaded and she wondered if what she’d seen had been real or simply her imaginings. Joseph was still in the same slumped position as before and obviously hadn’t noticed anything, it had been only in her head then.

“I don’t need your help,” he said, his voice muffled.

It took her a moment to remember what she had said to spark this response, but when she did she sighed in aspiration. “Of course you don’t, you’re a man after all.”

His head jerked up and there was a comically offended expression on his face. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, it’s just something I was discussing with my sisters the other day,” she murmured absently, her gaze now fixed upon a half folded up map that lay under a small deerskin bag. Her finger itched to examine the intriguing piece of parchment the small hastily written script scribbled across the outline of a large building. It was so irresistibly tempting she had to force herself to look away.

“I see.” He watched her as she ambled around the room, his gaze thoughtful. “So you’re one of those women who thinks that all men are the same?”

Crystal raised her brows, confused by the accusing tone in his voice. “No, of course not, I was just repeating what I’ve heard. I’m quite certain that you are nothing like any man I’ve know before, you’re rather mysterious.”

“And dangerous,” Joseph added. “Definitely not the kind of man you should be around.”

“I’m not leaving whether you like it or not,” she said crossing her arms and planting her feet as if he had threatened to drag her out the door.

He heaved a sigh, and flung himself back on the bed. “Lucky for you I’m too tired to make you.”

“Why are you tired? Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

He stared up at the ceiling, a bitter look on his face. “It’s more that I didn’t sleep last night. I got in around four in the morning.”

“What were you doing out so late?” she said ambling over to his dresser where a pair of revolvers lay tucked into his holster.

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed and she shot him a knowing glance. “Liar.” Lifting one of the guns from its leather pouch, she turned it over in her hands. Entranced by the gleaming metal.

“Why do you care what I do?” he asked rubbing his hand roughly over his face.

“Because.”

He sat up again. “What kind of answer is that–What are you doing?!”

Crystal jumped, dropping the revolver, it clattered to the floor. Sounding like a thousand dishes crashing in the quiet of the bedroom. Joseph jumped up and quickly jerked her away from the gun as it bounced upon the floor before slowly spinning to a stop. “Are you crazy? That could have gone off,” he said once it had stopped, swiftly grabbing the revolver and shoving it back in its holster.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was loaded.”

“My guns are always loaded,” he replied shortly.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered again, though he didn’t respond. Pulling out his other gun he flipped it open and closed again, seeming to be checking if she’d tampered with it.

“Where are you from, Joseph?” she asked after a moment. The foolishness of what she had done forgotten, she moved to snatch his black Stetson from the bedpost like a curious child.

He stopped in the middle of reloading his bullets; glanced at her and then continued to shove the small bits of metal back into their slots. “What makes you think I’m not from around here?”

She laughed, setting the hat lightly on her head. “Of course you’re not from around here. You stand out like a sore thumb with this cowboy hat, and those boots.”

“Well, I guess you have a point,” he said. His gaze flickering to the hat she wore and then the shoes on his feet.

“Then where are you from,”she asked when he still did not answer, moving to the small mirror above the porcelain basin on a tall wooden table to study her reflection.

“Victoria, Texas.”

Her brows furrowed as she considered his answer. “I’ve never heard of it,” she said, removing the Stetson from her head and replacing it on the bedpost. “How long have you lived in New Orleans?”she asked, taking a seat on a cushioned chair near the end of the bed. Finished with her exploration of his room. She focused her attention upon him as he polished his gun with a small white cloth.

He gave an audible sigh, obviously not too happy about the turn in conversation.“I came her with my mother and little brother when I was eleven.”

“Why did you leave Texas?”

“My father died in an Indian raid,” he said clinically. “The only choice we had was to come stay with my grandparents here in New Orleans. They were all the family we had left.”

Crystal frowned. “I’m sorry for you’re loss, it’s terrible you had to go through all that so young.”

Joseph merely shrugged. Finally done cleaning his guns, he put them away and moved to the window. Patting down his pockets in search of something. “That was all a long time ago,” he said, locating a box of matches in the breast pocket of his shirt he pulled them out. “I don’t think about it much anymore.” Lighting a match, he held it to the cigarette he had in his mouth until the tip turned into a red ember.

“What happened after that?” she asked, though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

“My grandfather disowned us and my mother died,” he said bluntly and Crystal flinched at his unemotional tone.

“How awful,” she whispered, more to herself than to the man across from her. “And what of your brother? –if you don’t mind my asking.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the window and took a slow drag off his

cigarette. “I lost my brother a long time ago,” he said quietly, the emptiness in his eyes was heartbreaking, and Crystal wished she hadn’t posed the question.

A heavy silence filled the room, one she was afraid to break. She rose from her chair, the brush of her skirts against the floor the only sound she made. Joining him at the window, she hesitated, watching the expression on his face. Gently she touched his arm, immediately he snapped out of his past and looked at her. The mask he kept firmly in place disappeared for an instant and she saw the hollowness of his soul. She wanted desperately to take him in her arms and comfort him but resisted the urge. Instead giving him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, wanting him to know how much she meant it, but unsure how to tell him.

He nodded, shaking himself as if to throw off the memories. He flicked his half smoked cigarette out the window and pulled it closed. “What about you?” he asked, striding to an armchair near the hearth he threw himself into it and propped one leg on a footstool. “All I know about you is that you feel trapped in your life. It seems all we ever do is talk about me. Tell me about you.” He cocked his head to one side, his expression attentive.

“Well . . .” Gliding across the room she took the seat opposite him. “As you may have noticed, I’m rather nosy.”

“Really?” He leaned deeper into the cushioned chair, eyebrows raised, his mouth twitching at the corners.

Crystal tried to hide her smile as well, but failed miserably. “Yes, it’s becoming quite a problem actually–”

She told him about her life and her family, though she couldn’t help but feel guilty. The worst thing that had happened to her since she was five was her Grandpapa had died. However, he listened with quiet interest, and she wondered if he noticed how completely she avoided the subject of her fiancé.

When the time finally came for her to leave, he held out his hand to help her rise and followed her to the door. She stepped out into the hallway and turned to face him. “I’m glad I came back to see you,” she said with a shy smile.

A guilty look crossed his face and he would no longer meet her gaze.

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

Crystal gave a playful pout. “Please, Joseph . . .?” she said.

He attempted to look stern but in the end a smile creased his mouth. “You’re awfully irritating at times,” he said gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She retained the shudder that threatened to ripple through her at his light contact. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said with a distracted grin up at him. “I’ll see you next week.” With that she hurried down the hall and waved goodbye before she disappeared down the stairs. Never noticing the grim look that crossed his face.

*******

Please continue with: "Chapter Twelve: Chartres Street"