The Seven Boxed Set

by Sarah M. Cradit

  He didn’t finish, but he could have ended with so many things, really! Not after Madeline. Not after Maureen got her teacher killed. Not after Maureen’s abortion. “Well, when are you coming home?”

  He shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know. I might not come home tonight.”

  “Hot date with Carolina?”

  “Carolina? You’re on this, too?”

  Maureen grinned. “She’s so hot on you.”

  “Shouldn’t you still be in bed resting?”

  “No,” Maureen said, indignant. “I’m done with that, and you would know if you were ever around.”

  Augustus glowered in impatience. “I have a lot to do at the office. Too much to be worrying about you.”

  “Then don’t worry about me.” An idea came to her, and it was so obvious she wondered why she hadn’t thought of just telling the truth to begin with. Or, part of it. “I’m actually meeting our cousin, Pansy, if you must know. And she can take me back to Vacherie.”

  “Pansy? Guidry?” Augustus frowned. His mouth curled in thought, and she knew he was struggling between fighting her and believing her. “Does Mama know?”

  “Mama is out making groceries.”

  “Fine. But you’re going to leave her a note.”

  Maureen blanched. Mama had never had the highest opinion of the Guidrys, who she called the “colorful trash” of the family. But Pansy was still her cousin, and she had a right to see her people, regardless of what her mother thought of them. She didn’t have to know why she was seeing Pansy. “Okay,” she said and scribbled her note on the pad on the old antique dresser by the door. “Ready?”

  Augustus had the look of a man who was already deeply regretting his decision. He stalked out the door and she followed.

  * * *

  Pansy was sitting on the front steps of Oak Haven when Augustus dropped Maureen off. He waved at Pansy, gave Maureen an intentional look that didn’t require words, and pulled away.

  “Hey,” Maureen said, feeling abruptly awkward in the face of realizing she hardly knew Pansy, who was closer in age to Charles. Pansy, who looked ten years older with her high-coiffed Dolly Parton curls, her neck hidden deep in the collar of her frilly dress.

  “Why, Maureen, aren’t you just a dream!” Pansy exclaimed and bounced down the stairs, arms wide. She pulled her into a hug as if they’d been waiting for this moment years now. “Tell me, how’s your mama and ’em?”

  “Good,” Maureen said, dazzled by her cousin’s wide eyes and dazzling smile. Colleen had never had the highest opinion of Pansy, but Maureen couldn’t help but be drawn in by what felt like authentic joy to see her.

  “Good, good,” Pansy replied and looped her arm around Maureen’s waist. Her long, fake nails scratched through the fabric. “You’ve got a key, I assume?”

  Maureen cursed. “I knew I forgot something.”

  “You think I ain’t never picked a lock before?” Pansy said with a wink. She fished a thin piece of metal from her bra.

  Maureen gaped at her. “Do you always carry that with you?”

  “You need to ask yourself why you don’t, my dear,” Pansy replied and went to work on the front door. Maureen whipped her head around, sure they’d be caught and hauled off to jail. Boy, would Augustus be mad, then.

  A minute later, they were in. Maureen’s heart raced as the moment drew near, when she would finally tell her secret to someone still in the land of the living. She didn’t know if she could do it… if she had the courage. And what was courage, anyway? Maybe it was a fancy way of saying you’re better off stupid.

  Pansy’s hand landed on her forearm. “Darlin’, I know you didn’t bring me here to catch up on old times. We hardly know one another.”

  “I… it’s just…”

  “Spit it out, girl. Does no good to hold onto poison.”

  “I’ve never told anyone, and I’m not sure I should.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if that were true,” Pansy said. She slipped the metal shimmy back in her dress. “Whatever it is, you can trust me. I’ve got no reason to share your secrets, and I’ve enough of my own.”

  Maureen fell back against the couch and recoiled a bit when she realized it was covered in a furniture shroud. Dead and gone, like her happiness. “My mother can’t know. My brothers… my sisters…”

  “They can go on minding their own business.”

  Should she trust Pansy? There seemed no deception in her… she was a strange bird, like all Guidrys, but Maureen didn’t detect anything that worried her, beyond her own nerves and fears. This was a woman who snuck off into the swamp to practice voodoo with her mother, and somehow kept this from her husband. She knew darkness and secrets.

  “My ability is ruining my life,” she said finally.

  Pansy grinned from the corner of her mouth. “Not the first one in this family to say so.”

  “I might be the only one in this family who’s truly cursed, though.”

  “We’re all cursed, thanks to Brigitte.” Pansy crossed herself, kissed her fingers, and looked north to Jesus. “But go on, tell me.”

  “I can see and talk to the dead,” Maureen blurted out. “How’s that for cursed?”

  Pansy leaned forward slowly. “Ya don’t say?”

  “I do say,” Maureen snipped. “Not all of them, but the ones that matter. My father. Madeline.” She paused. She couldn’t mention Peter. That was a secret too far. “My dead baby.”

  Pansy clutched at her chest. “Maureen, say that again?”

  “You heard me right. My dead baby. Mama forced me to get an abortion against my will.”

  Pansy’s fingers were a flurry again at her chest, and she paused longer to complete a prayer. “My God, Maureen. You poor dear. You’ve been dealing with this all alone, haven’t you?”

  The tears came without warning. Maureen nodded. “I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t do it. It’s constant, all the time, and I can’t escape it.”

  Pansy’s hand traveled to her belly. “Placide and I will be parents in the new year. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. The Lord has finally seen fit to bring our Rex into the world.” Her hand fell away. “You came to me because you think I can help.”

  “I… well… I’ve heard you and your mama…”

  Pansy laughed. “Do you always believe what you hear, Maureen?”

  Maureen sputtered again and Pansy reached forward to steady her. “I’m just pickin’. ’Course I can help. But first I gotta ask you something, and I need you to be perfectly honest with me, and mostly, yourself.”

  Maureen sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Okay.”

  “I see perfectly why you think this is a curse,” Pansy said, nodding to herself, “I do. But many would also see it as a gift.”

  “Not me!”

  “Not you,” Pansy agreed. “But if we can fix this, and I think we can, you’ll never see your daddy again. You’ll never see your sister again. You might think you’re okay with this now, but final is final. Sleeping dogs and all that.”

  “The rest of my family will never see them again, so why should I be any different? That’s how death works.”

  Pansy continued nodding. “If my daddy died, I’d do anything in the world to keep him around. But I s’pose I can say that because he ain’t dead and he ain’t haunting me. But I still gotta ask once more. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life!” Maureen cried through her tears. “And you have no idea what it’s like. You think you’d miss him, but it’s not the same, not at all. It’s not even close. It’s horrible.”

  Pansy looked away, thinking. “All right, then,” she said. “I brought some things along in the trunk, just in case, so I’ll go get ’em and we’ll get this exorcism moving right along, and have both of us home in time for dinner. Sound like a plan?”

  * * *

  Augustus had been sneezing all day. The insulation was finally being insta
lled after months of him tripping over it, or regarding it with open hostility as he walked around it. Twice he’d considered why the insulation was troubling him so. He should have adapted to the foreign intrusion far sooner, and he realized the absence of this evolution was intentional. He was intentionally getting himself worked into a frenzy about something completely nonsensical.

  Well, it wouldn’t be an issue any longer, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Another, weirder realization had been that he almost liked the angst brought on by the piles of pink fiberglass half-blocking his hallway; enjoyed cursing its existence and mumbling frustrations at the audacity. None of this was like him, and maybe that was the appeal. He didn’t know what to make of that, and so he didn’t make anything of it.

  The printing press had been installed earlier in the week, and he and Evangeline gawked over it like a couple of excited children, despite his outward protests that it wasn’t a toy. But even he had run his hands across the plastic and steel, mouth agape in wonder. Somehow it was this—not the building, the desks, the construction—that made his dream come to life the most vividly. It was real now. He had the tangible instrument with which to reach his goals.

  Fall, he’d told Evangeline. Fall was when they would release their first issue of Deschanel Magazine, even though he could have done it sooner. He had hundreds of submissions from worthy journalists, and not because anyone had high expectations of his publication but because of who he was. He could have put out the call for submissions for a magazine covering the lives of cross-dressing cats and the interest would have been there.

  He didn’t like that. He’d always wanted to make his own name in the world. But there was nothing to be done about it. There was no changing the name he was born with, and everything that came along with it. That was why he’d just gone on and named the damn magazine after himself. Why not? He’d have to prove he was worthy beyond his name, and that would take time.

  Augustus heard the loud clomp-clomp of her boots long before Evangeline arrived, winded and panting. She doubled over her knees with dramatic gasps.

  “Any particular reason you’re using the office as a track?” Augustus asked.

  Evangeline held up one finger without lifting her head. He couldn’t see her face at all. It was hidden behind the storm of curls and frizz.

  “Anything can be a track if you’re so inclined,” Evangeline replied between gulps for air. She uncoiled herself and blew out a deep breath. “I just got back from reception. Mama called.”

  Augustus tensed. “Everything okay at home?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “For one, you’re…” He stopped. Evangeline, for all her genius, often missed the nuance of behavior. But then, so did he. “What did she want?”

  “I don’t know. Something about moving some furniture around?”

  “Seriously?”

  Evangeline shrugged. “She can’t find Charles, but what else is new?”

  “This can’t wait?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  Augustus sighed. “Did she say anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.” Evangeline wiped a bead of sweat from her furrowed brow. “So, you’re going?”

  “Doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

  “One always has a choice.”

  “Why do I always get the feeling you’d be perfectly happy as a Chinese philosopher?”

  Evangeline frowned deeper. “I don’t like philosophy.”

  Augustus swiped his keys from the top of the nearby desk. His eyes caught that strange sign Carolina had brought by weeks ago. Love is the Answer. What was the Question? He saw it all the time; Evangeline had seen to that with her strategic placement of the thing. Once he set his office up, he wouldn’t see it so much.

  “You coming with?” he asked.

  Evangeline waved her hand. “I’ll stay in town.”

  “I might not be back. I don’t know what Mama has up her sleeve.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m good. Promise.”

  * * *

  Augustus spent the afternoon reshuffling the attic. There was no strategy involved in the task that he could see, nor any real benefit to the restructure. Their attic at Ophélie had been cluttered for years, and even with rearranging the mess, it was still a mess. But Irish Colleen seemed more than thrilled with the results, without acknowledging there’d been no real objective in the task than getting Augustus home for a change.

  “You’re my greatest joy,” she said when he was done, straining on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve never given me any trouble.”

  Augustus, over the years, had come to hear the unsaid words behind his mother’s compliments. No trouble, but isn’t that the problem? What kind of life is it, to never have adventure?

  “Happy to help, Mama.”

  “Now that you’re here, you’ll stay for dinner? All of us are here tonight, except Charles, of course. He never is. Oh! And Carolina is here, too.”

  * * *

  Augustus’ mind traveled to the place of his best usefulness, as others exchanged pleasant conversation across the old dining table. Evangeline, who’d found some way home on her own, kept throwing meaningful looks and winks at Carolina, which he managed to gracefully dodge before the poor girl noticed. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings and had no idea how she’d come to the conclusion he was worth the effort.

  Colleen at one point seemed to realize Carolina’s attentions were focused almost solely on her brother and had the nerve to glare at him, as if he had anything to do with it. He watched as a dawn of understanding came over her eyes. Her friendship with Carolina had all but fizzled out, until recently when Carolina had taken a renewed interest.

  He wanted to defend himself, but that would mean addressing the issue he’d hoped by now would have faded away.

  Irish Colleen was disappointed when he excused himself to return to town after dinner. “I’m sorry, Mama. I have night classes. And there’s still a lot of work to do before fall, at the office.”

  “I’d hoped being home would help you see how much you’re still needed here.”

  He kissed her. “I’ll always come when I’m needed.”

  “But would you tell me if you needed me?”

  He smiled by way of response. He had no idea what she wanted to hear, but he wouldn’t lie to his mother. Not anymore. Covering for Madeline, Maureen, and Charles had done nothing but make matters worse.

  Augustus dipped out the door before anyone else noticed. He’d made it all the way to the car before he heard footsteps in the gravel. He said a silent prayer it was one of his sisters, but as he looked up, before he even connected the dots, he knew.

  “Hey,” Carolina said. She had her hands deep in the pockets of her short shorts, so much so that the flaps from the pockets hung lower than the seams. Her long, tanned legs twisted at the ankle as she swayed back and forth.

  “Hey,” he replied without turning. He found he was frozen in place. The key hovered just above the door lock.

  “Everyone seemed really happy to see you.”

  Augustus nodded. Unlock the damn door. Get in. Say something pleasant. Leave.

  “Family is really important,” she went on. He felt her grow closer, though he was still locked in suspended animation, and then heard her soft footsteps on the rocks. “It’s everything.”

  “Yeah,” he said stupidly. The growing sweat from his palm made his hands slippery, and the keys dropped from between his fingers, landing in a soft thud.

  Carolina was at his feet before he could will himself to kneel down and grab them. He looked at her, and she looked up. Her smile was sad as she dropped his keys in his hand, her fingers brushing the damp flesh and lingering a moment.

  She rose, and they were so close he stopped breathing. “You’re hurting, Augustus, and I know what that’s like.”

  Augustus swallowed. He closed his hands over the keys and tried to back away, but the
cursed car was in the way. “I really have to go. I’ll be late for class.”

  Carolina reached forward and wrapped her fingers through his. He was so shocked by the gesture he was completely unprepared to react to it, and he stood there, dumfounded, holding her hand. “I lost a sibling, too. A brother. To leukemia.”

  Some of the tension faded away. “Really? I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” He should have known, and the failure of this, of not knowing something very important about his sister’s friend, burned in his cheeks. How many other things in life had he missed, nose buried in diversions?

  Carolina shrugged and kicked at the gravel. A small plume of dust gathered at their feet. “I don’t like to talk about it. It’s the worst thing that ever happened to me, so I understand… what it’s like, you know, to lose a sibling. And to not have anyone else to talk about it, you know, who understands, too.”

  Augustus nodded. Talking was out of the question, with anyone. Even Carolina, who might understand if he were to share the weight of his guilt. Sharing changed nothing. It didn’t bring the ghosts back to the living, or cause them to end their ceaseless haunting.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you get to class. School is almost as important as family.” She squeezed his fingers before dropping them, and both their hands fell away, to their sides. Her smile was brief, but full of a strange warmth that disarmed him. “I just wanted you to know I’m here for you. If you wanna talk, or if you… well, if you don’t. For anything, is what I mean.”

  Black dots danced before Augustus’ eyes as she left him there, and his breathing and heartrate started to return to normal. When he was sure she wasn’t coming back, he slid into the driver’s seat and closed his eyes to gather his bearings; to find himself again, and transfer whatever remained of that conversation to something useful.

  Eight

  I’m Gonna Marry Him One day

  Elizabeth brushed the hair on the last of the porcelain dolls. She’d already sorted the others, and they had moved back to lining the shelf above her bed. Her mother’s shelf, not hers, but it was important to Irish Colleen that Elizabeth seem normal, so Elizabeth acted accordingly.