Southern Ladies and Gentlemen Gamblers
Chapter 13 – The Book of Revelations, Chapter Six
Bart expected Pappy to grill him about the ride with his brother when they returned, but Beauregard never said a word about it. Ben, Beau and Bret all got dressed for poker and left the house. It was the first time Bret had gone into Little Bend since his return.
Pappy was still sitting at the table eating a piece of chicken when Bart brought the wine and the cup back into the kitchen. He watched his youngest son put the bottle back where he'd gotten it from but never said anything while he finished his supper. Finally when he was down to nothing but bones he looked up at Bart. "We don't have to continue tonight if you don't want to. We could go into town, or just take a night off."
"It's up to you, Pappy. I'm fine with continuin' if you are."
"Then let's go upstairs. A little too public downstairs last night."
One day without any warning, Belle's sister Grace showed up at the Maverick front door. Bret answered the door when he heard the knock; as usual, momma was in with Bart as he fought off another illness of some kind. "Well, hello there, little man. You must be my nephew Bret. I'm your Aunt Grace. May I come in?"
Bret, gentleman that he was even at five, nodded his head yes and held the door open while Grace entered with her suitcase. Once she was inside he ran to the bedroom to get Belle, dragging her by the hand without saying anything to her. Belle followed her oldest son towards the front door but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw her sister. She hadn't spoken to Grace since the day she'd found out about the night spent with Beauregard. Bret continued to pull on his mother's hand but she wouldn't go another step.
"What do you want?" she asked in a voice as cold as ice.
"Why Isabelle, is that any way to greet the sister you haven't seen in all these years?"
Belle fought her emotions to keep her voice calm and under control. "I'm sorry, Grace, what the hell do you want?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, sister dear. No better at all. I've come to visit my sister and brother-in-law and my two nephews, that's what I want."
"Where's your husband?"
Grace shrugged her shoulders, as if she didn't know. "Dylan is . . . . . somewhere in Texas."
"Then go find him and get out of my house."
"Momma, be nice to Aunty Grace." Bret looked so upset that Belle's heart broke.
"Bret, honey, go back and stay with your brother, please, while momma talks to Aunt Grace."
"Yes, ma'am."
Belle watched Bret go back to the bedroom and made sure that he was out of sight before she turned back to her sister. There was pure venom in her voice. "Why are you here, Grace?"
"I told you, I came for a visit."
Belle kept her voice low, so the boys wouldn't hear her, but the venom was still there. "You weren't invited here and you're not welcome. Take your things and get out."
Beauregard had played poker the previous night and was asleep in the other bedroom, but the noise was enough to wake him. He came out of the room rubbing his eyes. "Belle, what's the noise – " That's as far as he got before he saw Grace Chapman standing inside his front door. He stopped dead in his tracks just the way Belle had. Something dark and ugly flashed in his eyes. "Get out," he growled.
"My goodness, you people are certainly unfriendly," Grace said, but she made no attempt to move.
"Get out before I throw you out." There was nothing but disgust in Beauregard's voice.
Bret, God bless him, scooted back into the room at that moment, leading Bart, whose nose was running, by the hand. "Come on, Bart, you have to meet Aunty Grace."
Belle and Beau were frozen. Both desperately wanted Grace out of the house but dared not say anything in front of Bret. Both had the same thought at the exact same moment. Belle swooped in and picked up Bart and Beau grabbed Bret and raised him high in the air. 'Mr. Bret, come with me. Momma needs your help with Bart in the back room." He carried his oldest son and followed Belle, who had Bart in her arms. He set Bret down inside the boys' bedroom and closed the door behind him as he hurried back to the front door. He opened the door and stared Grace down. "Get out of here. NOW."
Grace knew that she'd been beaten. She picked up her suitcase and walked out the door, and Beau closed it behind her. It was the first and last time that either of the boys ever saw their Aunt Grace. And it was the last any of the adults saw of Grace Chapman.
"I don't remember that," Bart told his father.
"Good. It was an ugly scene. Besides, you were four years old, and you were sick. I wouldn't expect you to remember it. I don't know if Bret does or not."
"And you never saw her again?"
"Nope. I heard she went back to Louisiana."
"Alone?"
"I don't know. If there's any justice in the world, yes."
"Not even after momma . . . . died?"
"Especially not then. I hate to think what I would have done if she'd come back. Probably shot her."
"Pappy, you couldn't do that." Bart watched his father's eyes. He'd only seen Beauregard that mad once in his life.
"You'd be surprised what I'm capable of, Bartley."
Momma visited the other ladies of the church, and she always took Bart with her. In the summer of the year that Bart turned five, he caught something from one of them and momma came down with it at the same time. For once the little boy's body fought it off and he recovered sooner than expected; unfortunately, momma did not. Belle got sicker and sicker, and there were days on end that she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't get out of bed.
The boys had to be as quiet as church mice at home, and they spent a good deal of time over at Uncle Ben's house, where they could run and laugh and shout and be typical boys. Lily Mae did her best to take care of them, and every night they would go home to a house where disease and sickness lingered.
All through summer and into fall momma was sick and in bed, and Pappy walked around the house trying to figure out what to do. The doctor could do nothing to help, and it at last became clear that whatever had hold of momma had a death grip on her, and fully intended to extract its revenge. Pappy tried his best to prepare Bret and Bart for the inevitable, but no matter how many times he tried to explain it to them they just didn't seem to understand. He forgot to explain it to himself.
Belle was afraid to see her children, her beloved boys, because she feared passing her illness along to them. The night she died Beauregard sent Bret and Bart home with his brother, and he stayed by her side until the light broke on the east side of the house.
"Beauregard . . . . . the boys," she babbled, her fever so high that she was almost incoherent. "Where are the boys?"
"I sent them home with Ben, honey, remember? That's what we agreed to do."
"Oh . . . . I forgot. You know what to do with the cuff links?" The only thing of any value that Isabelle had ever kept were the gold and black opal cuff links that belonged to her father.
"I know, Isabelle. They belong to Bart. But I'm to keep them until he's old enough to wear them."
"Yes, and you know why?"
"Because you promised them to him if he'd get well when he had . . . . . . whatever it was he had when he almost died."
"Yes. Beauregard, where are our boys? Why aren't they here?"
"Because we decided it wasn't safe for them, Belle. Remember? So they wouldn't get sick."
"Beauregard, come here to me."
He'd been leaning against the wall across from the fireplace. They'd made a temporary bed for Isabelle on the floor right next to the fire; no matter the temperature outside she was always cold. He sat next to her and took her hand. He knew it was time.
"I love you, Isabelle. I've loved you since the first day I ever laid eyes on you. That night I came home from playing poker with your father and he moved you out of your room so I could 'sleep it off.' That was the first day of my life, and it ends when you leave me here by myself."
"No, Beauregard, it can't end. You have to raise Bret and Bart. Promise me you'll do that. Promise."
He could barely choke the words out. "I promise."
"I've loved you since then, too. That whole time we were apart . . . . I never stopped loving you. And it doesn't matter what happened. We've always belonged together. We always will." She closed her eyes. "I'm so . . . . tired. I'm . . . . .done now, Beauregard. I'll wait for you."
Pappy grew silent, unable to go any further. He didn't have to continue; Bart knew what happened. He remembered it all. He even remembered when Pappy had shown him the cuff links that he still wore when he went out to play poker; the gold and black opals that Momma left him. And both Maverick men grieved for the precious wife and mother that had been taken away from them.