Page 47 of Frankly, My Dear

James’s step faltered and it seemed he might turn around. But he quickly regained his composure and continued on his way, his fists clenched at his sides.

Then Etienne turned to Selene. “You sure are an ugly wench. Where did Papa find you? In an ugly barrel?”

Selene hadn’t had much experience with children, but no way was she going to let a three-foot gremlin intimidate her. “I think we’ll start your lessons tomorrow with two hours of arithmetic.”

“Arithmetic? Arithmetic! I hate doin’ numbers. Makes my head fuzzy.”

“Then maybe we’ll read some poetry.”

“Poetry!” Etienne put both hands on his hips and scowled at her, trying to figure out whether she was serious or not. Then he turned defiantly, dropped his pants, and stuck his bare back end out at her.

Selene’s mouth dropped open and her eyes almost bugged out. He mooned me. The little brat just mooned me. And why the heck isn’t the kid wearing underpants? Selene had never laid a hurtful hand on anyone in her life, let alone a small child, but she reached out now with evil intent.

Quickly pulling his pants back up, Etienne scooted out of her reach, running up the hill.

Selene closed her eyes wearily, seeing a long, miserable summer stretching in front of her, despite all her newly discovered feelings for James. Maybe she had died and gone to hell, after all.

Etienne didn’t get far. He had run only a few feet toward the house when he ran into a brick wall. Actually it was a short, very heavy black woman leaning on a cane, waiting for him on the ground-floor veranda. The child’s eyes widened with fear and he tried to swerve out of her way, but the woman wielded the crook of her cane with expertise, catching Etienne by the ankle and knocking him to the ground.

“Ouch! Blossom, lemme go. I was just showin’ my governess to the house, like Papa told me.”

Blossom. James’s cook.

Grabbing the lying little imp by the ear, the woman pulled Etienne to his feet. “Don’t you fib to me, boy. I warned you ’bout misbehavin’ today. If your papa don’t give you a whuppin’ fer all that cussin’ I jist heard, then I surely will. Yessirree. And didn’t I tell you to take a bath and wash yo’self? Lordy, you gonna be the death of me.”

Still holding onto Etienne’s ear with her left hand, the woman turned to Selene. Her coal-black skin was smooth as ebony silk, but her short, frizzy hair was peppered with gray. Selene figured she must be at least sixty, especially when she noticed her swollen legs and feet encased in comfortable house slippers, bespeaking long, long hours and possibly years spent on her feet.

Selene stepped closer. “Hello. My name is Sandra Selente, but everyone calls me Selene. Mr. Baptiste brought me here to be Etienne’s governess—”

“Oh, Lordy!”

“—and a sort of nurse for his mother—”

“Oh, Lordy!”

“—and, I guess, to just help get his house in order.”

“Oh, Lordy!”

“I heard Etienne call you Blossom,” Selene continued, ignoring the woman’s doleful exclamations. “I think James told me you have been the cook here for years, even before he bought the plantation.”

She held out her hand for Blossom to shake, and the woman looked at her as if she were crazy. Blossom’s left hand still held onto Etienne’s ear, but her cane slipped from her right hand to the ground. Selene took advantage of the opportunity and vigorously pumped the woman’s hand. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Blossom.”

The black woman stared at their clasped hands for several long moments, then she smiled widely, exposing a mouthful of pure white teeth. The cook released Etienne, telling him, “You best go hide Bob fast-like and tie up Dreadful afore your papa knows they still be here.”

Etienne, surprisingly, did as he was told, without any argument.

“Who is Bob, and what is Dreadful?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Blossom said, rolling her eyes.

Selene picked up Blossom’s cane and handed it to her.

Clearly surprised at her consideration, Blossom motioned for Selene to accompany her. “Come with me, chile. You look like you could use a bath and some of Blossom’s good cookin”’

“Do you by any chance know how to make beignets?”

Blossom beamed a prideful smile. “I wuz makin’ beignets in my cradle.”