Chapter 3 #2
“Brothel,” Sheridan insisted, refusing to call it by any other name.
“Parlor house,” Lily corrected her. “She did this. The fine furnishings, the good food, the way she treated us, making sure we are healthy and protected as much as we could be. When Sylvie Caron, the old madam, passed and left this house to her ten years ago, it wasn’t what you see now.
Josie spent considerable time and money making it into something comfortable, something beautiful.
And it is.” She gestured toward the other woman around the parlor.
“We are happy, healthy, and loved. Your mother did that. What you were told by your Aunt Estelle and your grandmother was untrue. Your mother was a fine woman. As I said, one of the best women I’ve ever known. ”
It was all so much to take in, but still, she wanted to know more. About her mother. About her father, whom she’d never met either. “What did she look like?”
“Very much like you. Same eyes. Same hair, though Josie’s was a little darker.
Same bone structure. You have her height and slenderness as well.
” Lily rose from her seat and strolled across the room where she took a photograph down from the wall behind the piano.
For as often as Sheridan sat at the grand piano, she’d never noticed it.
“Lucy Hart—you met Lucy when you arrived in Serenity—she’s a photographer.
She took this photograph of us a few years ago. ”
Lily handed her the photograph then proceeded to name everyone in it. When she pointed to Josie, Sheridan drew in her breath. “No wonder everyone knows who I am. I look just like her.”
“You could be her twin.”
“She looks happy.”
Barrie laughed softly. “Your mother was always happy.”
“Not always,” Lily corrected her. “She didn’t want you girls to see, but there were moments when I caught her crying.
” She turned toward Sheridan. “It was usually when she started thinking about you and everything she’d missed.
She had so much love to give, and since she wasn’t allowed give it to you, she showered it on us. ”
“I wish I had known her.” She stared at the photograph, and as she did, something tugged at her mind, like waves of mist parting to reveal a long-forgotten moment in time. “I’ve seen her.”
“You have?” Mrs. Gallagher blurted out. “When?”
Sheridan’s throat constricted as the memory became clearer.
“I was six. I was in my room when I heard voices raised in anger. Grand-mère and Aunt Estelle and another woman. Grand-mère was saying the most awful things, hurtful things. The woman was crying. Begging. Pleading with them, and then I heard the front door slam.” She paused for a moment.
“I remember rushing to the window and looking out. The woman was standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, her hands clutching the bars of the wrought-iron fence. I knocked on the window. She looked up and I waved.” The images in her mind were devastating.
“She was so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.
I ran out of the house—which I wasn’t allowed to do—and met her at the fence.
” The photograph in her hand became blurry as she stared at it.
“She was even more beautiful up close, even though she was crying. She kept calling me ‘Sherry’ which no one ever did. It wasn’t moments later that Aunt Estelle dragged me back into the house.
Estelle didn’t say anything to her, but she was angry.
I’d never seen her so angry. It scared me.
Grand-mère was angry, too. I was sent back to my room with strict orders not to leave.
When I looked out the window again, I saw Grand-mère yelling at the woman.
” The realization that she had once spoken to her mother but didn’t realize it struck her hard.
And she was angry. She had been deprived, plain and simple, of knowing how wonderful Josie had been.
“I was told she was some poor stranger, mistaking me for the daughter she lost. That I should stay away from her if I ever saw her again because she was dangerous.” She looked up at her companions—these women she barely knew—and saw the devastation and compassion on their faces.
“The very next week, I was sent to Bouchard’s School for Girls, only coming home on the weekends and holidays.
” She swiped at her eyes, surprised they were wet.
She never cried. That kind of release had been denied her, too—Odette’s rules.
How different her life would have been if Josie had raised her.
“I saw her once again, years later, at the school. It was at my graduation. I saw her talking with my grandmother and Aunt Estelle. Well, talking isn’t quite right.
They were yelling at her, manhandling her.
It looked like they were threatening her.
I didn’t know who she was, except that I remembered being told she was a crazy woman.
” She took a deep, shaky breath. “A short while later, I saw her again as she was being dragged from the school by two burly, mean looking policemen. I never saw her again after that, but I never forgot how beautiful she was.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Josie lived in New Orleans at Madam Sylvie’s before they both moved here and started this house.
She made a trip back to New Orleans once, to my knowledge, but she never went back after that.
She said her heart couldn’t take it. Now I know why.
” Lily laid a hand on her shoulder, offering comfort, which Sheridan accepted without flinching.
At this moment, as unusual as it was, she needed that gentle touch.
“And I’m sorry. For both of you. What your aunt and grandmother did was—” She shook her head.
“I have no word for it. I’ve never met either one of them, but I can tell you, I don’t like them at all.
They were horrible to Josie, and to you. ”
“Have you gone through the trunk?” Valentine asked, drawing her attention, perhaps in a bid to change the subject. “If your mother wrote letters to you but never actually sent them, they might be there. She might have saved them.”
“What trunk?”
“There’s a trunk in your room. I’m not sure how you didn’t notice it.
” Barrie’s eyes were wide and filled with sadness, not her usual innocence.
That expression was almost her undoing. She’d never been an emotional person—she’d never been allowed to express that side of herself—but she was emotional now.
So much anger, so much pain, almost too much to bear.
“Oh, wait!” Barrie snapped her fingers. “I do know. Josie had it moved to the attic. I’ll have Mr. Langston bring it down for you the next time he’s here.”
“Mr. Langston? Who is that?”
“Mr. Langston is our handy man. He can fix anything. He comes every other week, like clockwork, and does odd jobs for us. He and Josie were great friends.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.” She looked down at the photograph. “Who’s this other woman?”
“That’s Corianna. She’s a sweet girl though she never belonged here. Josie took her in, too. She works over at the Emporium now.”
“Speaking of the Emporium, the new crystal glasses have come in.” Mrs. Gallagher finished her tea and rose from her seat. “Tresia Goodrich sent word earlier this morning. I should go over and pick them up.”
“I can do that. I need to get outside for a while, to think about all that you’ve told me.” Sheridan laid the photograph on the small table. “Just tell me where the Emporium is.”
“You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest store on the street, right across from the town square.”
Sheridan rose from her chair, her legs a little wobbly, and gently ran her fingers under her eyes, removing the wetness from her cheek, still surprised by her tears. “Thank you all for sharing my mother with me. I never knew any of this.”
Lily rose as well. “We didn’t mean to make you sad, but you did need to know what a wonderful person Josie was.”
She gave a quick nod, then, on an impulse she’d never experienced before, she hugged Lily, who didn’t pull away.
Indeed, her embrace tightened for a moment before she let go.
“You’ll be all right, Sheridan. You’re probably more like your mother than you know.
” She spoke with a kind smile in her voice.
“There’s a warmth in you that you try to hide, and a need for comfort and companionship.
Let it out. You won’t know how happy you can be until you do. ”
Sheridan nodded, feeling that what she said was true. Perhaps, it was time to be more like Josie than Odette and Estelle, both of whom would probably incinerate on the spot if anyone dared to hug them. Or be happy, which neither of them were, and probably never had been, which was such a shame.
She tugged down the edges of the short jacket that matched her skirt and left the house. The cold hit her immediately. She should have worn a warmer coat, but she hadn’t packed one in her haste to board the train to Serenity. Perhaps there was a seamstress in town where she could buy one.
Her heart was heavy as she walked through town.
For the years lost with her mother. For a chance to know her.
Josie seemed to have been a kind, caring woman.
One with a lot of love to give, especially to her daughter.
Yet, Odette and Estelle must have blamed her for the sins of her mother.
They’d cruelly kept them apart. She didn’t know if she could forgive either one of them.
She felt…what? Angry? No, it was deeper than that. It was something akin to hate. She’d never hated anyone. Then again, what they had done was hateful.
She crossed the town square to Sullivan’s Emporium. It was the biggest store on the street, just as Mrs. Gallagher claimed, its forest-green awnings shading the raised sidewalk. A sign hung in the window, ‘If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.’
A bell over the door announced her arrival. Inside, she stopped, hit by its welcome warmth.