A/N: In this chapter, I mix fact and fiction about Darnell and the surrounding area, but it is all based in actual U.S. history. See an important note at the bottom of this chapter about some of the history shared here. It will come into play in this chapter and beyond.
CHAPTER 9
After lunch, Eric showered first and returned to the "Social Lounge," as he learned they called their family room (named by an eccentric uncle in the early 1900's, after which the moniker stuck). As he waited for Calleigh to shower and dress, Eric sat with J.J., who, having marginally fonder memories of this place than his older sister, happily entertained Eric with the history of the land and stories of old.
Darnell, Louisiana, population of less than 3,000 people, proved to be a surprise to Eric. He knew from the limited number of stories Calleigh shared of her childhood over the years that she grew up in a small town, but he had no idea how small. In fact, the Remy family appeared to be the most prominent, and exciting, feature of the town.
It turns out, most referred to the area simply as West Carroll Parish. The nearby town of Oak Grove currently held the parish seat, much to the chagrin of Alistair Remy, another wealthy and unconventional family ancestor who unsuccessfully lobbied for Darnell to hold pride of place in the parish.
J.J. explained about the thousands of years of history in the area before U.S. Annexation, and how his family obtained the homestead through one of the infamous land lotteries of the time, the results of which were contested by a fellow settler that was eventually sorted out by way of a pistol duel with his great-great grandfather, John Jamison Remy. J.J. told the tale of how his namesake survived the duel with a graze to the arm and the title of the land to his name. He built the big house before the War, before the parish existed and the town officially came to be.
The Remy family never owned a single enslaved person, a fact which peaked the interest of their distant neighbors prior to the Civil War, caused their suspicion during the War, and provoked ire during Reconstruction when the population split between those who did, and did not, support Emancipation.
As Eric began to understand, Calleigh's family had always been highly respected, but also gained a reputation over the years of being rather unusual. While J.J. talked, Eric summoned a mental image of a stubborn, barefooted Calleigh, running around the woods covered in dirt from head to toe, drawing curious glances from her mother's prim and proper guests on occasion. He imagined her forbearers would be proud of her wild streak, even if her mother was not.
While Oak Grove boasted the Courthouse and the regional medical center, most of the banks, and the two main schools, Darnell found itself home to the municipal airport. In the '70s, Everett Remy went toe to toe with the parish and doled out a fortune to claim the right to build it, for the sole reason that he personally wanted to learn to fly, and he couldn't stand the inconvenience of driving an extra forty minutes to the far side of West Carroll Parish to do it.
The Remy name adorned Darnell's stores and roads, and Caroline, the last of the line bearing the surname, took a little too much pride in it. When J.J. reached this juncture of his storytelling, he grew thoughtful and gave a small, rueful chuckle.
"I guess that's about it," he said. "Now you're up to speed on why we have this big ol' house in the middle of nowhere."
Eric sensed J.J. meant more by his final words, just as he felt Derek omitted important facts last night about how the three Duquesne kids spent their childhood seeking freedom from their parents in the woods near their home. He weighed the wisdom of voicing his thoughts and decided to go for it; of all the Duquesne siblings, J.J. possessed the least garrisoned defenses.
"A big ol' house with a lot of history," Eric probed gently.
J.J. knew Eric referred to their more recent past, to life with Caroline, not to the stories of years gone by. His eyes filled with ghosts for the briefest moment before he exiled them in an obviously practiced way, then he pinned Eric with a meaningful look.
"How much do you know?" he asked.
Eric shifted in his seat and tilted his head to the side, considering his response. Before he could answer, a sweet voice sounded from the arched entrance to the Lounge.
"What trouble are you two brewing in here?" Calleigh laughed as she entered the room. She ran a hand through the strands of her freshly blow-dried hair. "I knew I shouldn't have left you guys alone for so long!"
Both Eric and J.J. whipped around at her greeting, unable to entirely mask the guilt on their faces. Seeing this, Calleigh's smile dimmed and her features turned suspicious.
"Mmm, okay you two, spill it," she said.
Based on his assessment so far, Eric correctly assumed J.J. lacked any profound skill at lying, so he jumped in immediately with a crooked grin to cover for them.
"Your brother tells one hell of a good tale, Cal," he said mischievously.
J.J. caught on fast and picked up where Eric left off. "Yeah, sis, you know that one time at the Spring Formal…"
Calleigh's eyes narrowed. "J.J., you did not," she warned dangerously. Both men laughed.
"No, he didn't," Eric soothed, rising to his feet and making his way to Calleigh so he could cradle her elbows in his reassuring hands. "He was teaching me the history of the town. But—now I want to know about the Spring Formal…"
He gave her elbows a playful squeeze. Calleigh rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Story for another day," she chuckled. In a more serious tone, she added, "We need to get going, Eric."
The mood turned solemn. J.J. sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. Affixing his sister with compassionate eyes, he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this on your own? We can all go."
The last thing Calleigh wanted was for her little brothers to carry the memory of their dead mother's face with them for the rest of their lives. As a CSI, she'd seen countless bodies and knew what to expect from the deceased.
Eric guessed Calleigh's line of thinking as he watched her steel her shoulders. The thought crossed his mind that 'CSI Duquesne' knew what to expect. But what about 'Calleigh Duquesne, the daughter?'
J.J. seemed to be thinking likewise, so when Cal began to shake her head and open her mouth to speak, he simply reached out a hand to rest on her wrist and said, "Just call us if you get there and change your mind."
Cal smiled at her brother's quiet assurance. "Okay, I will," she replied softly.
She turned to face Eric once more, looped her hand around his elbow, and asked, "Ready?"
"Let's go," Eric said.
Before the pair left the house, Derek gave Eric instructions on how to get to the medical center and where to find the ancient morgue connected to the building in the back. He also slipped Eric a torn strip of paper with his number on it, in case something happened and Cal needed them.
She pretended not to notice.
Eric and Calleigh spent the ride to the hospital mostly in silence. The numbness that visited Calleigh so often in the last few weeks had begun to creep back in, and Eric could tell how hard she was fighting the desire to raise the white flag and surrender to isolation.
He reached across the console to grasp her hand in his. Taking his eyes off the road for the slightest second, he sent her an encouraging smile, which she returned with one of thanks. A tentative calm washed over her as the thoughts plaguing her turned instead to Eric, of his genuine support, of last night's affirmations and embraces.
If there's one thing I know how to do, Cal, it's love you.
Aloneness used to soothe the pain that seeped from her broken parts. But the idea of solitude, the concept of being separated from Eric for just a second, the remotest consideration that she could be distanced from him…even the mere thought caused her more pain than any hurt she might escape by running from her feelings now.
Calleigh took another deep breath. She held it for a moment, closed her eyes to feel her lungs expand, focused her mind on the burning sensation in her chest, and slowly released the captive air, expelling her anxiety along with it.
Caroline seemed enigmatic even in death, Calleigh decided. Beautiful, stoic, seemingly perfect.
She knew her mother loved her, in her own way, but Calleigh never felt the traditional love of a mother from the woman who gave birth to her. Caroline's version of love came in the form of constant critique, which is why Calleigh continually pushed herself to perfection, even if it destroyed her in the process.
Calleigh was barely four years old the first time she experienced the emotion she later came to know as 'shame,' all due to a passing comment from her mother to a friend about how her daughter looked like an angel in her pink dress.
A seemingly benign remark, but it was made in full earshot of her own child who, that morning, had battled fiercely against donning a white smock with frills on the sleeves to Sunday church.
Calleigh, look at those skinned knees. Calleigh, you're too pretty for those braids. Calleigh, you're being a tease, he didn't mean anything by it. Calleigh, you had it coming…
Calleigh felt a sharp pang of hurt from the memories.
"You okay?" Eric asked gently from where he stood a few feet behind her in the tiny morgue. He'd witnessed her body suddenly tense.
Calleigh remained unmoved in response, unseeing eyes fixed on her mother's still, pale face.
"Cal?" Eric questioned again. "We can go if this is too much."
She absently shook her head, eyes remaining on Caroline's face. Calleigh would never see her alive again. She found some solace in the fact that the last time they spoke on the phone, it was not in anger. They ended on a good note.
"Ended and finished are two different things," she murmured to herself.
Eric's brow furrowed as he failed to follow her train of thought. "What?" he asked.
Calleigh finally wrenched her gaze from her mother's face and she moved to Eric, falling into the arms which automatically curled around her.
"This isn't finished. I'm not finished," she tried to explain, words a little muffled against Eric's shirt.
Understanding slowly dawned on Eric as he stood steadfast, caressing Calleigh's back with gentle hands. Caroline may have given her final critique on this earth, but the trauma of years of emotional abuse still lived on for Calleigh.
"You'll find closure, babe," Eric promised her softly.
"How?" came Calleigh's broken response. Her voice cracked on the word.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'll be here for you as we figure it out."
Calleigh said nothing, she simply burrowed further into Eric's embrace and held onto him tightly.
Finally, Eric heard her whisper, "I was never enough for her."
His heart broke. Suddenly, so much made sense to him. Calleigh's need for perfection, her drive, her determination to push past her limits, to sideline pain in order to be better and go farther, to shut others out in the process…it all stemmed from this, from the woman lying dead ten feet from them.
"You can let go, Cal," Eric said in a low voice. "You don't have anything to prove. Not to her, or your family. And certainly not to me. You're more than enough. More than we deserve."
He heard a sniffle somewhere below his chin and felt Calleigh cling to him tightly. She heard him, but she didn't believe him, not yet.
All too soon, he felt her pulling away. With a swipe of her hand over her tired features, Calleigh turned her upper body, and she took one last look at Caroline Remy Duquesne.
Calleigh, why don't you wear this yellow one? Calleigh, the dance will do you good. Calleigh, why don't you just go on one date with him? Calleigh…Calleigh…Calleigh…
"I need to get out of here," she said in a strained whisper.
Caroline's voice echoed in her ears, and her mind screamed in protest, and all Calleigh could do was blindly reach for Eric's hand. Eric immediately intertwined their fingers, allowing Calleigh to pull him toward the door, watching as she turned her back to a woman she never understood and a past that refused to be past.
Both were silent on the trip back to Darnell, but their fingers stayed interlocked the whole way home.
Author's note:
I know not all of you are from the U.S. and well-versed in our history, which will be important in some ways as you read this story. In a HUGE nutshell, in my own words, and speaking only to what's pertinent to Lilies of The Valley, here's a history primer:
First, the United States of America was established based on a hierarchical format called "federalism." We have a federal government, then state, then county, then city.
In 1803, the United States federal government bought a large chunk of land from France, west of the Mississippi River, in what we call "The Louisiana Purchase," after which we removed many thousands of indigenous peoples from their homes, either forcibly or through unfair contracts, and annexed their land to white landowners.
The land from the Louisiana Purchase was divided into individual "states," one of which became known simply as the state of Louisiana. Based on French custom, small areas called 'parishes' were formed there, which are mostly called counties (as in 'Miami-Dade County') in other parts of the country. French influence is still strong in Louisiana, from food and dialects to the way laws are made.
With the Louisiana Purchase and land annexation, America's westward expansion boomed, relying heavily on enslavement and forced labor to build and support industry, especially in the South.
From 1861-1865, a terribly bloody Civil War waged between the "North" and the "South" over slavery, states' rights, and economic dominance (it would take me a whole book to dive into the context of the U.S. Federal System and the "why" behind the secession of the Southern states, so you may want to look that up on your own using sources from credible places like universities, journals, etc. Americans can't even agree on how to teach our history, so read multiple sources!).
The North was called the Union, and they supported the end of enslavement; the South was called the Confederacy, and they wanted to continue slavery because that's how they'd grown the regional economy. Anyway, there were over 1.5 million casualties in the Civil War, the Emancipation Proclamation declared enslaved people free in 1865, Reconstruction happened as everyone tried to rebuild, and our country still has a lot of stuff to figure out about racism and equality almost 160 years later.
It's all very complex. And please note, summing it up like this is not the best way to honor all the people who were, and continue to be, hurt by our history, but it is quick and to the point in order to get you up to speed on a few relevant details.
I'll provide additional historical context in future chapters as Eric learns more about the place Calleigh calls home…and as she faces the demons of both her past and present.