Always & Forever: A Saga of Slavery and Deliverance (The Plantation Series Book 1) by Gretchen Craig Read Free Book Online Page B

box.
    After a late supper, Papa, Grand-mère Emmeline, and Josie
each carried a lighted candle into the parlor where the casket had been placed.
Ursaline and Grand-mère had padded the charcoal with a length of cream silk and
had dressed Maman in her favorite blue gown. All around her body they had
arranged roses and gardenias, which would be replaced with fresh blossoms
before the funeral.
    And so began the wake. Dr. Benet and Father Philippe kept
vigil with them, and their nearest neighbors, Monsieur Cherleu and the Cummings
family, would join them soon.
    “Her rosary, Josephine.” Grand-mère meant for her to place
the beads in Maman’s hands, stiff now and colder than they were last night.
Josie held back.
    “I’ll do it,” Papa said.
    Grand-mère frowned and flicked her black handkerchief.
    “I can do it, Papa.”
    Father Philippe said a prayer. Then Grand-mère Emmeline
raised her candle and, in her long-legged way, marched from the room. Papa
knelt at the side of the casket and leaned his forehead against his clasped
hands.
    Josie stared at Maman, so pale in the candlelight. The lines
around her mouth were smoothed away, and she looked young and at peace. She’d
never be impatient with Josie again when she ruined her sewing. She’d never be
angry with Papa again, or hateful to Cleo and Bibi.
    Josie put a hand to her eyes. That’s not what she wanted to
remember about Maman. Maman was beautiful, and she was a lady. She thought of
Grand-mère’s shrewd, hard face when she was about the plantation’s business,
and that was not the woman Josie wanted to become. She would be like Maman.
    And yet, she thought, Maman had not been happy, and she
hadn’t been kind.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    Josie didn’t have a black dress. The last time there’d been
a death in the family was when Oncle Augustine, Papa’s elder brother, had
drowned in the river. Josie was five inches taller now. Grand-mère brought
Maman’s black silk into Josie’s room and held it up.
    “Try it on.”
    Bibi helped Josie out of her dress and into the black one.
The buttons up the back didn’t meet across Josie’s shoulder blades, and the hem
hardly came to her ankles. Grand-mère let out a disgusted snort.
    “Wait here.”
    Grand-mère came back with a dress from her own wardrobe. The
silk taffeta was so old that the black dye had a purple cast to it. Josie
wrinkled her nose against the reek of camphor and pulled the dress over her
head.
    The bodice hung limp on Josie’s frame, and the skirt dragged
the floor. Tears filled Josie’s eyes, but she didn’t dare let Grand-mère see
them.
    “After breakfast, sit down with your needle, Josephine. You
can hem that skirt in half an hour, and take a tuck or two in the bosom.”
    Grand-mère bustled on to other duties, and Josie let loose.
She cried as though the dress itself had broken her heart.
    “Josie, Josie,” Bibi said. “I help you wid de dress.”
    “It stinks, Bibi! How can I see people when it stinks like
camphor?”
    “Wash your face. Go to breakfast. I take de dress outside
and let de wind blow through it. And I ask Louella if she know what else we can
do.”
    Before Josie had to greet the first arrivals, Bibi had aired
the dress, Josie had taken it in, and Cleo had ironed it with a cloth dampened
in lavender water. Cleo fixed Josie’s hair and helped her into the purply-black
gown. The two of them stood in front of the long mirror and stared at the
dress.
    The dark gown washed out Josie’s complexion and robbed her
hazel eyes of their green tones. The freckles on her nose shone through the
powder, and Cleo had accidentally singed one of Josie’s curls. Josie was sure
she’d never looked so awful. She thought, just for a moment, of Grammy Tulia’s
cabin, of a safe haven while the strangers were here for Maman’s funeral.
    “One more thing,” Cleo said. She left the room only a moment
and came back with Maman’s perfume bottle. She dabbed Josie’s neck and inner
elbows, and