Ambrosine Read online

  Ambrosine

  By

  Noreen Harrison

  Copyright 2012 Noreen Harrison

  All rights reserved. Any reproductions, in whole or in part, by any means, without the express or written permission of the author, is a violation of United States federal copyright laws.

  ISBN-13:9781492207214

  ISBN-10:1492207217

  This book was created in the United States.

  Prologue

  The deception in my life began in 1953, the year I was born. However, not knowing of any pretense, my childhood was normal up until the year my father died.

  To begin, I am Alixia, the only child of James and Lucida Cavelier. They named me in memory of a great-aunt on my father’s side. We live in the Baton Rouge Parish, about five miles out of town. Gardens and orchards surround our estate, permeating the air with sweet, flowery fragrances throughout the spring and summer.

  When I was little, I would go in the orchards and hide in my own imagination, conjuring up fantasies and playing throughout the day. However, that was then. Today, I am returning to our orchards. There will be no more fantasies in which to hide. Because, today, the reality in my life will never be the same, and there is nothing I can do about it. No matter how much I wish I could change this ending, this is the fatality of who I once was.

  My Last Goodbye

  I shivered, standing in our orchard in the early-morning rain. The dense fog turned all of us into shadowy figures that enclosed my father’s grave. Smelling the freshly dug dirt, they slowly lowered him into the ground.

  Why did he have to die? I am only fifteen and a half, and he‘ll never be there for me again.

  I took a step, wiped the tears running down my cheeks and let out a deep, mournful breath as the emptiness inside me set in. I read the inscription on his headstone.

  James Cavelier

  Beloved Husband and Father

  1929 to 1969.

  I knelt to the ground despairingly, feeling the wetness of the black dirt squish up against my bare knees. Looking down, I let go of my white rose and watched it fall onto his casket. I trembled my words, “Father I loved you, why did...”

  “It’s time, Alixia.” My mother Lucida took hold of my shoulder firmly. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Let’s go.”

  “All right.”

  One Year Later

  The months following my father’s death were hard on me. Our house still felt empty without him. It was as if I was always waiting for his return.

  My mother, Lucida, turned into someone I didn’t know. Since the day we buried Father, she seemed possessed with grief and guilt. Several times, I woke up in the middle of the night to find her sitting in Father's half-lit den talking to herself, her words making no sense. She just babbled in half-coherent sentences, mostly saying, “Why?!”

  One night while lying in bed, I heard Mother scream out, “I wish you had listened to me!” Then a loud thump as if something hard fell to the floor. Panicked, I bolted downstairs and jerked open the door to the den. She looked up at me, both startled and confused.

  “Are you all right, Mother?”

  She quickly stood up behind Father’s desk, coming toward me wild-eyed as if she had seen a ghost. She shoved my hand away from the door handle and grabbed the golden-colored lever with her own hand hugging the door close to her, which blocked my view of the rest of the room.

  “I’m fine,” she said. I couldn’t help but notice the intense look on her face. “I just accidentally knocked over some boxes of books. It is nothing for you to be concerned with, now go back to bed.”

  “Okay. “ I replied, letting her slowly close the door on me. I didn’t want to argue with her craziness. Seeing the pain in her face was heartrending enough. I knew she was still struggling with the torment of my father being gone. I hoped soon that she would find some peace of mind.

  The Trip

  March was colder this year than normal for Baton Rouge. It had been raining for three days and it was getting tiresome.

  Walking into the living room, I sprawled out on the couch, studying for a hated biology test that I knew I would probably get a C on. Mother was sitting at her desk, twisting a strand of her auburn hair around her index finger, pausing every now and then to write in her journal. Looking up, she said,

  “Alixia?”

  “What?”

  “I need to go to New Orleans tomorrow; do you want to come with me?”

  I grimaced and turned another page. “If it’s to one of your charity events, then no.”

  “Alixia!”

  “They’re boring.”

  Displeased with my response, she tapped her pen on the desk and furrowed her brow at me.

  ”Well, it has nothing to with my charity work, young lady. I have to see the lawyer on some final paper work about your father. So, do you want to come or not?”

  Now I felt guilty. I knew she was up last night wandering the house again, until early morning. I sat up.

  ”Sure, I’ll come with you, and I shouldn’t have said that about your charities. I’m sorry.”

  “Alixia, you know they’re important to me.”

  “I know, and I said I’m sorry.”

  “All right.” She closed her journal, keeping her cool. “Anyway, we’re not staying in a hotel this visit. We will be staying with a good friend of mine. In fact, her driver will be there at the train station to pick us up, so no taxi either.”

  “That’s fine with me.” I said looking back down at my biology book with revulsion, not caring one way or the other about how we get there or whom we’d be staying with. I just wanted to get through this chapter on the elements for my test.

  “Okay then, we’ll leave late afternoon tomorrow.”

  “Sure, anything you say. Can we talk later mother, I need to study this chapter. ” She shook her head. “Yes, continue your reading.

  ****

  The next day, we boarded in Baton Rouge taking a later train than scheduled. The ride seemed to take forever. I wished we could have gone by car to get us there faster, but it seemed almost everyone around these parts, including my mother, still enjoyed taking the train to New Orleans. So I stared out the window watching the scenery go by, bored as usual, while the train continued on its monotonous route.

  The train’s rhythm lulled me to sleep. I began dreaming I was in an old, abandoned house. I gazed up toward the ceiling, seeing peeling paint and huge cracks. My eyes slowly followed one of the deep cracks going down the wall to a dark corner of the room. I stepped back, and took in a terrified breath as I saw a woman slowly

  materialize through the darkness. She was ghost-like, staring out at me with eyes as cold an ice. I turned, ready to run, but fell as I tripped over my own feet. My body heated up with fear, lying there staring up at her. She hovered over me and looked down with a dark evilness I’d never seen before. Her mouth was moving, but her voice was so faint that I couldn’t hear her words. I tried to get away…

  “Alixia.”

  “Huh…what?” My dream abruptly ended to Mother shaking my shoulder and telling me we had arrived in New Orleans. I looked down at my watch—it was after seven in the evening. I felt a shiver go through me and said under my breath, “Weird dream.”

  “What did you say?” she asked as she stood up.

  “Nothing, Mother. Let’s just go.”

  Getting off the train, Mother pointed quickly toward the ticket booth.

  ”There’s the driver. Gabriel.” She waved.

  He nodded at her, and came over to greet us. He was a tall man with a husky build and a nice, inviting smile. “Good evening, Madame Cavelier, it’s good to see you again, and this must be Alixia.”

  “Yes, Gabriel, this is Alixia. Alixia, Gabriel. He will be
our driver for the duration of our visit.”

  He reached for my hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Alixia.”

  “Hello,” he squeezed my hand lightly, his eyes stayed focused on mine for a few seconds. His stare made me feel uncomfortable. Then he let go and looked toward Mother smiling. With a slightly nodded and said, “Here, I’ll show you where the car is.”

  “Thank you.” Mother said, taking his arm. They walked ahead of me toward the car, talking quietly to each other. I followed, with Gabriel looking back at me every now then.

  Getting into the car, I made myself comfortable on the hard, leather seats. Once situated, I asked, “How far is it to your friend’s house from here, Mother?”

  “Not far. It is probably fifteen minutes away. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “Yes…I can’t wait either…" A train whistle caught my interest for a second. Looking out the window, I could see the passengers begin boarding the eight o’clock train. Mother pulled my attention back to her, and said in anticipation,

  “She’s been waiting to meet you, too.”

  “Really? How long have you known her? Wait…uh…what is your friend’s name? I don’t think you told me yet.”

  “I haven’t?” she asked as she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wiped her nose. “Her name is Cecilia Ambrosine.”

  “Cecilia Ambrosine? That’s a different last name. So, how long have you known her?”

  “Oh, pretty much my whole life. She’s a very good friend.”

  The driver’s door opened and Gabriel sat behind the wheel, looking at us in the rearview mirror.

  “Ready, Madame?”

  “Yes, Gabriel.”

  The conversation ended there as we made our way through the colorful streets of New Orleans. Musicians were playing bluesy music on nearly every street corner we passed. The tourist and townspeople were out and about in costumes putting on their own show of entertainment as they displayed their beads of gold, green and purple.

  New Orleans does have its own uniqueness that is for sure. The car turned onto a dark side street and stopped in front of a house.

  The house looked old and weather-beaten, and ironically, almost similar to the one in my dream. Dried up ivy vines enclosed it, wrapping like veins in many directions around the building. A black, iron-spiked fence stuck out like spears, guarding several old oak trees in the yard, and the dim streetlights tried to reveal what was hiding in the shadows.

  “Mother?” I asked a little hesitantly, not wanting to sound pretentious.

  “Is this where your friend lives?”

  “This is it!” she said excitedly. “Let’s go!” There was a note of urgency in her voice. “They’re all waiting for us!”

  I stared at the house. “Who’s all waiting for us?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you, Madame Ambrosine is putting on a small party for us tonight.”

  “She is? Why?”

  “Just come along now.” She hustled me out of the car.

  We walked up an outside staircase, making our way toward a light that guided us to her friend’s door. I heard laughter and music. Mother knocked twice, and a woman speaking French mixed with some English opened the door. She took my mother into her arms immediately and hugged her tightly. I didn’t see her face until we entered her home and she turned to look at me. I noticed her eyes right away—they were similar to mother’s and mine, an emerald-green color. She was stunningly beautiful with dark hair and olive skin.

  The woman kissed my cheek, smelling of a sweet, flowery perfume that encircled us both as she hugged me tightly. “Alixia, ma chère”

  I looked over at Mother. She had tears in her eyes. She took the woman’s hand enthusiastically.

  “Alixia, this is Madame Cecilia Ambrosine.”

  “Hello,” I said as I eyed Mother, who was watching us with a smile. Madame Cecilia draped an arm around each of our shoulders.

  “Lucida and Alixia, come. They’re waiting for us.” She guided us into a larger room which was beautifully decorated with white furniture; red accent pieces broke up the purity of the room in just the right places.

  The guests in the room swarmed around us immediately. I stayed close to Mother as they came up to us, kissing our cheeks and speaking mostly in French. It was bizarre, it felt as if they all knew me and we were reuniting again. It made me wonder why I was so significant to them, the way they were carrying on for just meeting me.

  I noticed, too, that my mother replied to most of them in French. I was taken aback. I had never heard her speak anything but English. “Mother?” I leaned close. “You speak French?”

  “Yes. We’ll talk about that later.” She hugged me and walked over to a group of women standing in an opposite corner.

  I sat down on a couch watching everyone and feeling a little out of place. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned around to see a young woman of slim build. Her reddish-brown hair was done up in braids and stuck out in contrast with her dark skin.

  “Bonjour! Je suis Millie!” Upon seeing my confused look, she said embarrassed, “Oh excuse me, I forgot. I will speak English. Hi, I’m Millie.”

  “I’m Alixia.” She moved to the front of the couch and sat down by me.

  “I know. I’m so glad we finally get to meet each other. I have been waiting a long time for this.”

  Okay now this is way too weird.

  “You’ve been waiting to meet me?” I said.

  “Oh yes,” she replied, turning so she directly faced me. “I remember when your mother was pregnant with you and your father came along with her. He was a very nice man.”

  “You met my father, James?”

  “Of course.” Her face brightened. “He came every year with Lucida to Mardi Gras.”

  “He did?” I asked, perplexed. “I never knew he went to any of Mother’s charity events during Mardi Gras.”

  “Yes,” she reached over and touched my hand gently. “He stayed at Madame Cecilia’s home with me while our mothers and Madame Cecilia attended the Gatherings.”

  “Gatherings? What’s that?” She bit down on her lip, and quickly pulled her hand back and said, “You know, charity work.”

  “Oh,” I said with a little confusion, “I guess I’ve never heard Mother refer to her charities as Gatherings before.”

  “Ah… really? Well, no matter.” she said nervously as she quickly changed the subject. “Well uh… anyway, as I was saying, that’s how I met your father. But I never did get to see you when you were born. Lucida always left you with James when she returned every year after for Mardi Gras.” Millie’s demeanor changed to somber as she said quietly, “And, I never understood why she did that.” She looked at me, waiting for a response.

  “Ah… I don’t know what to tell you.” I shifted a little away from her, “All I know is my father didn’t care at all for any of my mother’s charity events, especially during Mardi Gras. He’d always made plans for us to take trips up north during that time. Actually, I think that’s the only time of the year my parents would separate from each other. I remember when I was thirteen, I wanted to go with her to Mardi Gras, but my father refused to let that happen, and it turned into a big argument between them. I never asked after that.” I heaved a sorrowful sigh, feeling a sense of despair. “I guess now I don’t have to worry about his disapproval or his approval anymore.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry about the loss of your father.”

  “Thank you. I still miss him terribly.”

  “I know.”

  There was a quiet moment between us. Then she changed the subject to lighter topics. She told me she was engaged, and would be getting married in May to a man named Henry Corin. Their wedding would be at Madame Ambrosine’s home.

  I congratulated her on her upcoming marriage and then she went on to talk about anything that came to her mind. She let me know that her mother and Madame Ambrosine had been family friends for years. Sh
e told me what schools she attended, and what she did for fun while growing up. It was as if she wanted me to know everything about her right now.

  Mother came over to us, smiling. “Alixia, I see you have met Millie.”

  “Yes.” I moved over to make room on the sofa for her. Millie shifted toward Mother and said, “Lucida, I was just telling Alixia about my upcoming marriage. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, we will be there.”

  “Good. Oh there is Henry.” she said as she waved to a young man across the room. He walked over with a huge smile on his face. “Henry, this is Alixia. Alixia, this is Henry.”

  “Hi.” I said, eyeing him. He was a nice-looking man, tall and dark-featured. He reached out for my hand. I noticed the tattoo of a blackbird on top of his right hand as he smiled and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Henry leaned in and kissed my cheek. I could smell his cologne as he brushed my face with his lips. He then reached over for Millie and said, “I don’t want to be rude darling, but it’s getting late and I do have to work tomorrow, you know.” She looked down at her watch. “You’re right, we better get going. Well,” she said looking at me with a satisfied smile, “as I said, Alixia, it was nice to finally get to meet you.”

  “It was nice meeting you, too.”

  She eyed my mother, giving her a slight nod. Then she looked at Henry and said, “We had better say goodnight to Madame Ambrosine before we leave. “

  “Yes, we better. Come now. Goodnight, ladies.” He wrapped his arm around her.

  “Goodnight.” Mother said moving closer to me, “And Millie, we will talk soon about your wedding.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” They walked off toward Madame Ambrosine.

  After sitting on an overstuffed couch for a while, half-listening to Mother in conversation with other guests, I felt the party begin to dwindle down. I was bored. All of the guests that were lingering now were older adults, which brought the party down to a more serious tone.