by C J Murphy
“I won’t argue. Let’s see where this clue leads. You never know, the next stop might be right next door.”
“You’re right. That is possible. It doesn’t matter. I’m coming anyway. I’ll treat you and Mom to dinner.”
“As long as you aren’t cooking it. I’m not into ramen noodles or your beloved Nutella and Teddy Gramhams.”
Jordan laughed from deep inside. “You always did know how to bring me out of a funk, Sis.”
“The only funk you’re in probably has to do with not being able to shower while you’re camping. Now, go have a drink among the ghosts of pirates. Love you, JJ.”
They signed off and Jordan put her phone back in her pocket. Walking back into her room, she shut and locked the French doors. She opened her duffle, pulled out her sleep shorts and tank top for later, and threw them on her bed. She patted her back pocket for her wallet and slipped in her room key. At the last second, she grabbed the professors’ book before stepping into the hallway.
“Thirsty?”
Jordan turned quickly in the direction of the voice, finding no one behind her. She shook her head and reached for the banister. Near her room, she saw what she could only describe as a fleeting apparition. I must be more tired than I thought. One drink, then I’m going to bed. An attempt to shake away the cobwebs and the gnawing feeling failed, as she descended the stairs and headed out the door and across the street.
Jordan entered the establishment and made her way to the bar. It wasn’t a very big place with a large brick chimney in the center taking up a good portion of it. Illuminated with candles, she couldn’t detect any electric lighting at all. The massive ceiling beams were exposed, as were the wide, wooden planks above them. The L-shaped, wooden bar top was well used and had only simple wooden barstools in front of the brick face. She took one of the stools and looked around the room, as she waited for the beautiful bartender to finish with another customer. Jordan laid the book on the bar beside a well-used coaster. There was absolutely nothing fancy about the room or the furnishings, and she was surprised to find herself completely at ease. The bluesy sound of a piano came from across the room.
“What can I get you, ma chère?”
The lithe bartender spoke with a distinctive, low-country accent that settled a pleasant warmth around Jordan. She smiled into the striking gold eyes surrounded by mahogany skin. “Makers Mark. Neat, please.”
The woman tipped her head sideways and reached up to the third tier of the liquors behind the bar and grabbed for a short cocktail glass. She poured the honey-colored liquor to the two-finger mark Jordan indicated and winked at her. Jordan smiled back and spun the glass in a slow circle while she watched the musician play to the small crowd in the room. She looked at the book she’d brought with her and realized, in the extreme low light of the room, she would never be able to read anything. She turned the book over and looked at its cover as she picked up her drink.
The whiskey slid down her throat, and she closed her eyes to savor the bite as it hit her tongue. She waited for the smooth warmth to spread over her. Jordan rarely drank to excess, that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy a good glass of whiskey or a good wine. She turned on her stool so that she was able to see both the L-shaped section of the bar and the musician. After about fifteen minutes, he took a break and the bartender made her way back to check on Jordan.
“First time visitor?” The woman asked.
“Yes. I certainly hope not my last.”
“Business or pleasure?”
“A little of both,” she extended her hand, “Jordan Armstrong. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I heard the music from my hotel across the street and had to come.”
The bartender took her hand. “Draws them in every time. I’m Joëlle, pleased to meet you too. Can I get you another or are you okay?”
“I’m fine for now.” Jordan pointed to the musician, “He’s good.”
“That’s Mike Hood, he’s a regular. He keeps the patrons happy and my tip jar full.” Joëlle looked down at Jordan’s book. “You won’t get any reading done in here. Not too many people bring a book with them. What brings you to New Orleans?”
Jordan turned squarely back to the bar and placed both arms on the surface while she cupped her drink. “I’m not sure how to even describe it other than to say I’m on a quest.”
“A quest? That’s a new one. Most people say vacation, or of course, Mardi Gras. Somehow, you don’t look the type.” Joëlle wiped at a condensation ring on the bar and threw away a discarded beer bottle from the seat beside Jordan.
“It’s kind of a weird story, and I’m not sure you’d believe me.” Jordan sipped from her glass, allowing the aged whiskey to mellow her thoughts.
“I’m a bartender, try me.”
“Well, I’m a professor from Cornell University in New York. I’m trying to develop a superfood to eradicate hunger in drought-stricken areas. I’m on a quest to find the missing piece of my research,” Jordan picked up the book she’d brought, "that one of the people who wrote this book might have. Only, I can’t find her.”
Joëlle picked up the book and looked over the names on the cover. “Which one are you looking for?”
Jordan studied her for a moment. The woman’s eyebrows were drawn together, as she looked at the cover. “Professor Noeul Scott.”
“Good thing, because reaching Aggie would be a much harder quest.” Joëlle continued to study the book, opening to the middle where the pictures were.
Jordan was momentarily stunned. The cover didn’t say Aggie James. The cover only had A. James. Joëlle had it in her hands less than ten seconds and not long enough to really see anything written inside. “Do you…” Jordan shook her head. “You know Aggie James?”
“Knew her. I met her and her wife, Noeul, years ago.”
Jordan placed her hand on the book, lowering it to the bar top and bent forward to peer into Joëlle’s golden eyes. In an excited voice, she probed. “You’ve met Professor Scott?”
Joëlle looked at Jordan, walked over to the bar, and removed a photograph she had tacked up near the register. She brought it back and handed it to Jordan. “I guess six degrees of separation actually applies here. I met them as a couple several years ago, when they stayed across the street at the guest house and became regulars for about two weeks. They were fun. It’s not often visitors become regulars. Noeul visited a few years later, by herself.”
Stunned, Jordan stared at a photo of Joëlle, Aggie, and Noeul at the bar. “After Aggie died?” she said with a hint of hope in her voice. How in the world, in a city the size of New Orleans, had she come across someone who had met the woman she was traveling the country to find? She had no explanation for the strange forces that were propelling her through this quest and had long ago given up trying to find any logic to it.
“Yes. It nearly tore me up to see Noeul come in by herself. She stayed about a week the last time, visited with me every evening here at the bar.” She pointed to Jordan. “Sat on the exact stool you’re sitting on. We became pretty good friends. I haven’t seen Noeul in years,” she tapped the photo, “after Aggie died, so did a piece of Noeul.”
Jordan looked down and quickly to her left and right. “This is going to sound extremely strange. Did she happen to mention a memorial to Aggie here?”
“Not to me, at least that I can remember. I can tell you she did go visit Grand-mère Montieu.” Joëlle said the second part with an almost reverent tone.
“Grand-mère Montieu? That means grandmother, right? Is it your grandmother?”
Joëlle laughed quietly. “She’s everyone’s grand-mère. She’s one of our local Santeria priestesses and yes, she is my biological grandmother.”
“Santeria?” Jordan was reaching for her phone to make note of the term.
“It’s a blending of different spiritualities from West Africa to Cuba and others. It’s worship of the Orishas or more understandably, head guardians.” She paused, squinted as if looking for the
right word. “Supreme beings.”
“Ah, are we talking voodoo?” Jordan asked.
Joëlle scowled. “Voodoo is something made up by those who want to cash in on something inexplicable to them. Don’t use that term with Grand-mère Montieu or you’re likely to find yourself on your ass. Santeria is as much a religion as Catholicism or any Protestant spirituality. The interpretation and practice are different. Don’t make the mistake of dismissing it.”
Jordan held her hands up in earnest. “No disrespect meant, I promise you. The concept is all new to me. Rest assured, I do respect all forms of belief. The terminology is foreign to me and I apologize.” Jordan pleaded with her, afraid to lose this fragile thread connecting her to Noeul. “Where can I find Grand-mère Montieu?”
“Call this number.” Joëlle handed her a slip of paper. “If Grand-mère Montieu is available, I’ll take you to her.” Joëlle pointed to her glass. “You want another? You look like you could use it.”
Jordan stared at her empty tumbler, having no recollection of finishing it. She simply nodded to Joëlle and stared at the picture. Once again, she felt as if forces beyond what could be seen were at work, and she had to believe they would eventually lead her to Noeul. When Joëlle set the glass down, Jordan toyed with it absentmindedly. The picture showed three women with their arms around each other, smiling for the camera. What are the chances? Absolutely certain something had led her to Joëlle, Jordan handed the picture back to the beautiful woman on the other side of the bar. She was both confused and excited by this chance meeting.
Joëlle lifted her chin in the direction of a new patron and walked to the end of the bar to take his order. Eclectic music floated around Jordan, and she took a healthy swig of her drink. After an hour, mellow and relaxed, she paid her check and tucked Grand-mère Montieu's contact number in her pocket. She’d also traded numbers with Joëlle. “If she can see me, are you available tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’m actually on staycation. That’s why I can help Tim out. I’ll be around, just call.” Joëlle reached out a hand and clasped Jordan’s forearm. “You okay to make it across the street?”
“I’m good. Thanks for all your help. I’ll call you.” Jordan gave a small wave and made her way across the street and up the steep staircase to her room. As she unlocked the room, she again looked into the mirror to her right. A young girl, almost translucent, stood in a white flowing gown, staring back at her.
“Ashes to ashes, what is hidden will be revealed.”
Jordan spun on her heel so quickly she nearly fell, managing to stay upright only by grabbing the door frame. There was no one in the hall with her, and yet she knew she’d seen the girl and heard her speak. Ashes to ashes, what is hidden will be revealed. What the hell does that even mean? She shook herself and pushed open the door to her room. The alcohol on top of her large meal was beginning to make her very sleepy, and she longed to stretch out on the soft bed. She readied herself by brushing her teeth and changing into her sleep clothes.
The sheets were startling white and cool against her skin. The comforter was light but still heavy enough to feel it. After wrestling the pillows into submission, she drifted off with disembodied voices and apparitions floating through her thoughts. “What a long strange trip it’s been.”
Chapter Seven
NOEUL SQUINTED INTO THE sunbeam that streamed in through her window. For the first time in several nights, she actually felt rested. Kyo stretched, yawned her doggie good morning, and then twisted quickly and leapt up, wagging her tail furiously.
“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get you outside and find me some coffee.” Noeul rose and slid her feet into her slippers. She looked around the bedroom absent mindedly, yawning and scratching her side lightly across the area of her tattoo. Lately her whole side had been itchy. No matter how many times she applied creams or lotions, it still felt itchy. No, not itchy. Tingly.
She let Kyo out to survey her domain before sliding her favorite mug under the coffee dispenser and filling it with the dark brew. Dawn was slowly breaking through into her eastern facing kitchen, leaving the large expanse of glass that formed the southern side of the house still shadowed in darkness. Kyo scratched at the door. Noeul let her in and laughed as the dog immediately ran to her food bowl.
“Find anything out there interesting? Any ninja squirrels waiting in the shadows?” She filled Kyo’s bowl with the baked chicken, brown rice, and vegetable mix. A few embers of the fire remained. She spread them out till they glowed brightly and laid some split cherry wood on top. In a few minutes, the room’s morning chill disappeared, and the flickering light gave off a cheerful glow.
She sat on the couch and sipped at her coffee as she watched the shadows recede and the shapeless objects turn into familiar forms. The newsletter again caught her eye, and she read over the part that intrigued her the most. There was little she could learn about her former student until she made a trip down the mountain. Although there really wasn’t anything she needed, the temptation to discover more about Jordan’s research was quite compelling. She and Kyo could go down and spend the night. “I can do this. I’ll make the preparations for the animals, and we’ll get started, Kyo.”
Three hours later, Noeul and Kyo traveled down the mountain. She rode Thor and used Athena as a packhorse. Kyo bounded in and out of the stream when Noeul stopped midway to water the horses. When she finally reached Kelly and Miranda’s, Kyo ran to Miranda and turned over to receive her customary belly rub. Kelly came off the porch and held Thor as Noeul dismounted. The two women embraced.
“Well this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you off the mountain off schedule, love?” Kelly grabbed the reins and started walking Thor toward the corral, as Noeul took the saddlebags off Athena and led her to the paddock as well.
“Kyo and I were a bit restless, so we decided to seek out some good company and found ourselves here.” Noeul walked into the grassy area and removed Thor’s saddle. After it slid from his back, she hung it across the split rail fence and kissed his nose. “Go eat.”
Miranda walked up to them and hugged Noeul. “It’s always good to see you. You’re welcome any time.”
“I need to do some research if your internet is up and running. In the newsletter you brought me, I read a story about one of my former students. I got curious. I also need to order some supplies for the greenhouse.” Noeul threw the saddlebag over her shoulder and walked with the two women back to the small house.
“It’s working okay, and you never need to ask. I put fresh sheets on your bed the other morning, so it’s ready to go. I was planning on chicken parmigiana for supper tonight…that work for you?” Kelly picked up a stick and threw it for Kyo, who happily ran full out to retrieve it.
Noeul clasped Kelly’s hand and squeezed. “That sounds wonderful. You know what they say, feed a stray and it keeps showing up."
“Well, I’ll make sure we open a good bottle of merlot for dinner, and we’ll be good to go.”
Noeul made her way to the computer and sat down in the large, leather office chair. The room was furnished with pictures of the couple as they’d built the cabins and from their time working at the Green Bank Observatory. Noeul appreciated the evidence of the couple’s deep devotion to each other. She opened a browser on the computer and pulled up her former employer. Locating Professor Jordan Armstrong in Cornell’s faculty and staff directory was not difficult. Her looks haven’t changed much from all those years ago. The accolades shown under her bio attested to Jordan’s accomplishments. There were numerous links to her work, and Noeul was thoroughly impressed. Jordan’s research was fascinating. So thorough. Noeul could see the basic threads of her own research that Jordan was building on. There were missing pieces, things she herself had discovered only within the last few years. Transfixed, she sat in front of the computer completely absorbed in the data and research. She had no clue of the time passing until Kelly brought in a sandwich and a glass of iced tea and set them beside her hand.
>
“Honey, it’s been three hours, why don’t you take a break and eat something? It’s well past lunch. We still have a good while before dinner, and you’re too skinny as it is. Eat.” Kelly kissed her head and leaned on one arm to look at the screen. “What has you so captivated?”
“Do you remember that former student I told you about?” Noeul looked to Kelly for confirmation. “Well, it seems she was a better student than I thought. Jordan Armstrong took my basic research and ran with it. She’s so far advanced in her technique and research, I feel like an amateur. I’ve been able to accomplish some of what she’s been trying to do on a very small scale. This,” Noeul pointed to her screen, “is a game changer.”
Kelly furrowed her brow while squinting at the screen. “How so?”
“What she’s trying to do is graft this superfood onto a root system that will grow with little to no water. If she can combine what she’s doing with what I’ve been able to accomplish up in my crude lab, famine in Africa could be eradicated. Hunger could be a thing for the history books. It’s fascinating.”
Kelly laughed out loud. “I haven’t seen you this excited since you figured out how to get more light into that underground greenhouse of yours. It’s nice to see. Any chance you’ll contact her and see if you can collaborate?”
Noeul rolled her shoulders to release some of the tension. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in front of a computer for so long. Her stomach rumbled, and she gratefully chewed a bite of the sandwich while she considered the question. “I’m an out-of-the-loop, retired professor. What she’s doing is so far beyond my simple grafting techniques. Jordan has made incredible advances in her research. I’d only be more of a stumbling block than a stepping stone.”
Kelly rubbed her shoulders, and Noeul moaned in pleasure. She continued to chew the sandwich, as Kelly’s strong hands worked the knots out. As good as it felt, a wave of sadness hit Noeul. Aggie used to rub her shoulders when she’d been hunched over the computer for too long. It was always Aggie who pulled her from the screen and urged her to take a mental and physical break. If it hadn’t been for the insistence of her wife, Noeul would have worked around the clock when she was elbow deep in a project.
