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Louis,
We missed you at the wake and haven’t seen you since. Where are you? What happened? Mamaw is hardly eating. How I wish I could divide myself up and be half here, half knocking on every door in Esplanade. Levi has come back with the news that the last anyone saw you was at Mister Anderson’s place. I swear, the moment you finally decide to show your face! At all hours I’m listening out for the squeak of the gates, ready to fly down the stairs.
I know what Mamaw said. But have we become so antipathetic to you that you no longer wish to return? Or else are you unwell? That is my greatest concern. I’ve asked Robert to pass this to Father Matthias, failing that, to one of your houses.
Please, dearest brother, send a note even if you don’t want to come home yet. Reassure me that my anxiety is unfounded. I’ve instructed Robert and Susie not to breathe a word when you get here. We can hide under our oak tree like in the old days.
I am with you and I hold you to my heart.
Your loving sister
Grace
June 3rd, 1912
Dear Louis,
Twins! You were right about that. How??
It feels like I haven’t had a wink of sleep in the last six weeks. The moment one drifts off, the other starts wailing. I need about three more pairs of hands just to keep up. Mamaw said I was the loud one, and you would quietly but doggedly rip out chunks of your hair until you got your way, Paul was a complete angel, never fussed.
Everyone teases me about getting the girls all mixed up. But I knew from the moment I laid eyes on them: two peas in a pod, yet different as night and day. I’ll let you in on a little secret since you are an uncle now, and better excel at that: Marie has a little extra whorl on top of her right ear. She’ll have Mamaw’s temper for sure. Nanette will be the keeper of all her sister’s secrets. Even now, as I am writing this letter leaning against the crib, she is thoughtfully chewing on a toe, watching me. Oh Louis, how does anyone bear it? Elation and terror and everything in between. They take up my whole world and look! Look how tiny their little faces are. I want to lay across the door and hold all the darkness at bay. Nothing but joy for my Marie and Nanette.
Mamaw will be stitching extra rows of lace onto my old Christening gown. You know my needlework, my sparrows looked like waddling ducks. But I insist on doing it myself: bullion roses at the yoke for both of them. I’ve already hemmed the one you wore. Did you know you were almost a full inch taller than Nanette?
I have to go now, they are starting to babble. Before I forget, the date has been set, August 10th. If you don’t show up at St. Augustine’s well before noon, never mind Mamaw, you will face my wrath.
All my best wishes, Louis, I embrace you.
Your loving sister
Grace
August 15th, 1912
Louis,
No, you are not forgiven yet. Despite the generosity of your gifts. You can’t just stroll in when we’ve said already goodbye to most of our guests! I’m sure Papa and Paul, may they rest in Christ’s eternal love, smiled down on us from above. But you were supposed to be there! My brother, their only uncle, the head of the family, missing on my babies’ big day. I would have felt so alone if not for Levi holding me and the girls close.
You’ve already got more than an earful from Mamaw. Truth being told, I was this close to slamming the door shut myself. At times it feels like my entire family scattered in a single year. Mamaw tries to be strong but there are days where she’d be so far away, we can’t reach her at all. You, when was the last time you were home? When was the last time we sat at the table and supped together? Joined our hands in prayer? As a woman, I have not been educated on the running of a business. But Louis, what is the meaning of all the riches, if we do not spend time together as a family? I miss you. We miss you.
This reminded me, have you given any thoughts on my suggestion to see this opticist, Mister Cross, in New York? The new pastor Father McGlynn (You’re yet to meet him. Honestly, Louis, when are you coming to Mass?) recommended him when I asked for advice. I know your eyes are still troubling you. I could see them often getting red even behind those glasses.
Take good care of yourself and don’t go too long without coming to see us.
Your loving sister
Grace
September 1st, 1912
Dear Louis,
Thank you for the birthday present. The Indian silks are especially lovely. Although you seem to have forgotten that your sister is a married woman now, and have little use for twelve yards of lavender taffeta. I say I’ll save it for the girls, but I know when their eyes start to linger over its sheen, that is when a mother’s heart breaks. I watch how they get bigger, seemingly by the minute, and I’m already dreading the day when they’ll have to fly the nest.
Your birthday is in a month’s time. Last year passed in a blur, but we are having a grand celebration this year. Don’t argue with me, I’ve got the day all planed out: cod with egg sauce for lunch, your favorite. We will sit out in the back garden, just us family. You’ll finally get to meet your nieces proper, not poking your head in when they are already fast asleep. Then everyone can join in for the dinner buffet. At the very least I’m thinking gumbo and fricandeau of veal for the centerpiece. Any other request? Or perhaps a barbeque? Plenty of ice cream for the ladies, jelly for the little ones. I’ll need to put an order in early with Ruffino on St. Claude, they always run out of lemon sorbet at this time of year. You liked that band for Charlotte’s wedding, didn’t you? You fairly wore your soles through. I think we should get them for the evening. Don’t fret, I won’t be pushing you to dance with every eligible lady, that’s Mamaw’s forte. And she will be plenty occupied with the twins this time round.
I want you to enjoy yourself, Louis. You are never home anymore. It can’t be good for you, staying cooped up in that office by your lonesome. Remember the winter when you sold the last of our cane? That was the longest fight between you and Mamaw. In the end I had to risk the ruin of my reputation to go downtown and march you home. I will do it again, make no mistake.
Au revoir, dear brother, write back to me soon. Better yet, be home like you used to. I miss our noisy breakfast. Anything else you’d like for your birthday party, let me know. We will make it happen.
I embrace you from my heart.
Your loving sister,
Grace
December 29th, 1913
Dear Louis,
I went to your old office and Ms Lowes directed me to 1132 Rue Royale, said that’s where you live now. I went there and rang the doorbell, nobody answered. I could see a few letters inside the gates addressed to you, so it must be the case.
Louis, for the past few months I’ve heard some whispers, I dismissed them all for baseless gossip; not my brother, not my Louis. But today, I saw there was a letter for him, too.
You shot up like weed the spring of 95, or was it 96? Paul was sulky because he went back to having to look up to you. But I was thrilled that my big brother looked so handsome in his first proper suit, his first watch fob. During Sunday school the girls and mothers would always ask about you, coming at it sideways, how’s your brother when I knew it meant you.
For the better half of that year you were always out, swimming, hunting, laying traps in the bayou. You’d come back looking like the sun has soaked into you. Your feet barely touched the ground as you whistled some tune.
Then the sun went away for a spell. It took some time, but you became your old self again. You never said anything but you’d sit with me, or Paul, just sat. I knew then, Louis, and I know it now: take heart, this too shall pass. The Lord won’t give you nothing you can’t bear.
You missed Thanksgiving. And you missed Christmas two years in a row. When am I going to see you, Louis? I would dearly love to talk to you.
Your loving sister,
Grace
February 24th, 1914
I’ve started this letter so many times. Louis, talk to me. This distance between us is scaring me. A week ago you disappeared from the house and left Benni on the floor! I wrecked my head for a possible explanation. The floor! Perhaps there was an emergency and you had to dash off. You could have come up and left Benni with me. All I heard was the door slam and my baby crying. You can’t imagine all the thoughts that rushed through my head at that terrifying moment.
I have to be stern about this. I can take you showing up every six months or so in the dead of night. I can take the glasses. I can take your situation. and, and Lestat. But you have to tell me why you left your nephew on the floor, Louis. I cannot pretend this didn’t happen.
Grace
May 6th, 1915
Dear Louis,
We visited the mausoleum the other day. The pain lessens but it never goes away. It used to get so bad I could barely allow myself to remember the good. Now I can tell Levi about the silly fights, the things that used to drive me crazy. I got the girls to put their fingers to the gravestone and trace the letters. Paul, his braying laugh, the hunched-over march when he was in a mood. Two taps on the wall when he wanted to check if we were still awake. I wish you were there, you always tell the stories better.
I think I’ve grudgingly accepted the fact that we only get to see you in snatches, now that you are a big shot businessman. Doesn’t mean I won’t grumble about it. And I’m sorry that I haven’t been writing as often as I’d like either. I get up, I blink and the whole day is gone. The couple of times I managed to wrangle myself away from the little ones, you were out. I’m surprised you don’t seem to have a housekeeper or maid at that big house. Or they’ve been neglecting their duties: nobody answered the door the last time either.
Since you missed out again, let me tell you all about the luncheon hosted for The Holy Family Sisters on Friday. No doubt you’ll be eager to learn which family relocated across the river, hastily learnt some French, and now passing themselves as Creole, or whose daughter had to enjoy some countryside air after she was left in a delicate condition. Fans could have snapped for how fast they were unfurling all those tales.
One thing I did hear was about the Couvent School. Mr Doyle (passing his thanks for your kind donation) waved off the rumor that they’d be changing to a ‘Mericain-only curriculum by the end of the year. But I thought he looked troubled.
It doesn’t concern us, the children will go to St Mary’s when they are old enough. Still, it doesn’t sit right with me, not teaching the youngsters how to read and write in their mother tongue. What have you heard, Louis? Mr Doyle was vague about why, I got the feeling it wasn’t be up to him.
Anyway, the weather has been so wonderful. Shall we go for a picnic? Before it gets too warm. Let me steal you away from your ledger just for a day.
Your loving sister,
Grace
PS: Benni has started crawling. Gave me a real fright yesterday when he disappeared behind the sewing machine.
August 11th, 1915
Dear Louis,
The fourth iteration of the invitation card came through this morning, and not even Mamaw could find any more fault with it. They will be hand delivered from next week. So here, you are the very first guest of honor to next year’s Bal de Roi. Don your white tie, and enter the Condé Street Hall, which will be transformed into the mythical Sherwood Forest on the night.
I kid, I kid. The telegrams might flood to our drawing room, but you’ve been as involved as anyone on the committee. You know Levi, he’s still getting his head around who’s in and who’s out, let alone where to secure bushels of purple tulip for January.
Will you come for tea on Tuesday? Mamaw has been in a great mood lately. Nothing enlivens her more than ball preparations. And this has been the most elaborate one yet. Thank you for procuring the chandeliers and peacocks. Come, I promise to be my most charming self and sit between you.
Until then, I hold you in my prayers.
Your loving sister,
Grace
PS: remember to bring beignets.
August 22nd, 1915
Dear Louis,
Mamaw has calmed down some. You’re off the hook for now.
But brother, listen to me, do not bring up the topic again. You know what this ball means to her, to our family. I fancy I overheard Mamaw whispering to the girls, someday you’ll be the Queens of Carnival. I don’t hold the same ambition, but the night will be filled with scrutiny. All the crème de la crème of the Seventh Ward will be there. Arriving with committee members or as their esteemed guests is a statement that will be noted by everyone.
He can try and buy a ticket for the dancing portion of the evening. No one can stop him from doing so. Louis, you must know what it will look like if he’s on the invitation list. This ball is for us, when even the most respected among our people are excluded from the old-line krewes. Either you’re welcoming a tourist to come and study us as curiosities, and Northerners do plenty of that on their own, or worse.
She’s…accepting. As much as she could. She hasn’t pressed you about finding a church-going girl and grandchildren for a year now, has she? I want us to be together in this, Louis, the Pointe du Lacs arriving with their heads held high. Haven’t you uplifted the community enough to command their respect?
I’m coming down to Cooley’s to pick up some horehound drops. Meet me there and we will talk some more? You are in my thoughts as always.
Your loving sister,
Grace
September 5th, 1916
Dear Louis,
Another year, another parcel of hats, handkerchiefs, perfume and bonbons delivered to my doorstep. I wonder if in your mind, I’m frozen at the age of 19, Miss de Pointe du Lac still. A flattering thought when I spotted my first gray this morning.
It was good to see you. You looked well. You always do these days.
Brother, I have to ask, is there something troubling you? I know business is going well, that’s not what I meant. I hate it when you say ’s fine in that tone. You sat no more than a foot away from us yet you were miles away. You didn’t eat a bite. At first I thought you didn’t want Mamaw or Levi to fret so I held my tongue, but you said nothing when it was just the two of us.
Write to me, then, and write at length. Or I can come to you. There is nothing we can’t get through together, Louis. Ce ne sont plus des promesses d’enfance. You mean well and you hide things for our sake. Always have. But you don’t have to. I may be your little sister but I am a woman grown.
I wish you good health and good fortune. Write to me soon.
Your loving sister
Grace
April 28th, 1917
I heard you calling out, Grace, Grace, like you used to when Paul was being stubborn and you wanted some support in your corner. Times were I’d have been by your side in a heartbeat, but my babies were trembling in my arms. There was wood and broken glass all over the floor. A hurricane at my door.
My brother’s voice, came out of someone I did not know at all.
I told you. I told you right from the beginning, I’d lay my body down for my girls. Nothing can get at them through me. Nothing in the world should frighten them like that, not while I still draw breaths.
Do not come again. I didn’t want to believe Mamaw. I didn’t want to believe my own instinct, that time with Benni. My eyes are open now.
Stay gone.
September 7th, 1917
[Unsent. Torn-up newspaper clipping titled RETALIATION SPREADING: MOB ATTACKS NEGROES FOR COUNCILMAN’S DEATH]
May 10th, 1924
Louis,
I’m not sure if you’ll read, or even receive this letter. But I wanted to try. After all, there is no one else left. Mamaw, gone. Paul, gone. I am Grace Freniere. Only the house still bears the name.
I do not want to ask why or what happened, all those years ago. I didn’t get an answer then and I’m not expecting one now. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why I sat down with a pen in the first place.
Last time I said some things I regretted. You’ve always looked out for us, there was no reason to think otherwise. I am well. Levi is well. The twins are almost as tall as me now. Benni found a pair of your old dancing shoes and made such ruckus around the house.
You remember the Chapellas? Their oldest daughter was the Queen at our ball. The son made it back from the frontline but passed two weeks ago, pneumonia.
I picked up the phone a few times and put it back down again. I do not have the right words.
Grace
January 17th, 1925
Louis,
It was a surprise to receive your note.
I still don’t have the right words. I pray for His guidance daily. For now, it is good to know that you are doing okay.
I lit a candle for you at St Augustine’s.
Grace
May 8th, 1927
Louis,
We visited the mausoleum and cleaned up all the crawlers climbing up the sides. We only went once last year and it showed.
I don’t know what’s left between us other than secrets. Is there anything salvageable? Can I call you my brother still? In turn I ask myself, what could I have done for you? What’s in my power now? Apart from a penny in the collection box, a candle beneath the votive.
I happened to pass by the Quarter. The place looked deserted. Windows were shuttered. I thought perhaps you’ve moved. Then some kids kicking pebbles at the gates sang out: the crooked brothers in their crooked house. I guess that was my answer. You are here still, and so is he. There is strange comfort in that thought.
Grace
October 2nd, 1928
Louis,
War coming, war ending, the world moved on past me like a train. So many of our old neighbors have left. The pews are half-empty.
I didn’t hear from you this past year, and I’ve been distracted with other matters myself. There are not enough hours in a day.
Leave me a sign at Paul’s grave, if you can. I often go there to think. [enclosed: homemade pralines and a scarf]
Grace
November 16th, 1929
[Unsent]
Louis,
The antiques were the first to go, then the automobile, the jewellery and clothes. I don’t remember the year Robert left. Now we’ve come to the last thing worth anything to the Pointe du Lac name.
This isn’t me asking me for help. I wanted you to know, that’s all. You must have had your own troubles after they’ve closed down the district. It’s about time I practice what I said to you a lifetime ago: The Lord won’t give me nothing I can’t bear.
It shocks me how many things we could do without. I’ve sewn my wedding earrings to the inside of my dress, one onto each sleeve so they won’t make any noise. Mamaw would be proud of how neat my stitches ar
Levi has been trying to get a post as a chauffeur, he’s told there’s decent work there. I don’t know what I’ll do yet, teaching, nursing, fixing people’s hair. The money from the house will get us to Chicago and a flat. I’ve packed a few acorns from the oak tree in my trunk. They will take roots just as we will find a way.
I hope a nice family takes it. Not just take it but look after it. A long time ago I hid those tin soldiers you loved so much under the porch, I just remembered now. Perhaps they will stand guard.
October 19th, 1930
Louis,
I thought I knew what I wanted to say last night, but nothing had prepared me for the sight of my brother, looking exactly as he did twenty years ago. Those eyes, I should have known. Mamaw did and she steeled her heart. Bore the whispers even though they ate at her.
It's all in the past now. Whoever you are, can you tell me if he’s there still? Is he at peace now? I’d like to think so. It breaks my heart to imagine how alone and trapped he must have felt, and I wasn’t there for him, when he was always there for me and Paul. I sat up all night the day we buried Paul. I knew he needed some time but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. I should have stayed with him. I should have dragged him home with me. Perhaps everything would have turned out different.
One day, God willing, I will see my Louis again. I will take his hand, kiss his cheek, and we can rest together.
Will you do this one last thing for me? Let him know his fool of sister will continue to hold him in her heart and prayers. Let him know that I miss him terribly but I will be alright. I have all that I need.
His loving sister,
Grace