by Janna Hill
Maggie absorbed everything Linda was saying and still held her arms out waiting.
“Don’t you hear what I am telling you? How the hell are you going to offer me your arms, your understanding?”
Quietly Maggie inched closer asking, “Who was the only person I had – the one who dropped everything and got on a plane to save me when my own mother wouldn’t come?” she spoke gently tapping her finger against Linda’s arm. Relieved that she had bridged the distance enough to touch the wreck that stood before her, the spirit that was sorely in need of a healing touch, akin to easing up on a trapped animal she approached with caution and let the creature acclimatize.
“I owed that to you and more.” Linda cried, “After you took me in when we were at LSU…I showed up on your door step with a trash bag for Christ’s sake… and in return I fed you to the wolves… how can you… how can you not hate me?”
Maggie was close enough now and Linda’s guard was down so she grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping her slender arms around the woman’s shuddering shoulders she held her for what seemed like hours. When the howling at last settled down she told her,
“Because you know I’ve been there…between that same rock and a hard place, a dark place- scared and in need. Maybe I saved you but you in turn saved me. It seems we’re all we’ve got.”
“But there’s more” Linda cried, “So much more I need to tell you.”
“It doesn’t matter-not now. No more words. I don’t want to hear any more.” She said as she clung to the release as if it were her own, pouring out her pain and hurt with Mucalinda’s tears.
“I’ve got your back now Maggie, I promise.” Linda said pulling away to dry her face on the ugly red robe.
“And I’ve got yours.” Maggie vowed.
Chapter 14
New Friends
Maggie had drifted away in deep thoughts. Yes that was a lifetime ago and in another life, maybe someone else’s life.
“Did you ever come close to getting married?” Clara prodded, bringing Maggie back to the present.
“Good heavens girl. You ask a lot of questions.” Maggie said staring back at the monitors which Clara took as a sign that she didn’t want to discuss it any further.
“You’re married, right?” Maggie asked after a minute.
“Yes.” Clara smiled.
“What is his name?”
“Jim. Jim Havel.”
“Where is he from?”
“Kind of all over.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Maggie laughed. “He originated from somewhere, didn’t he?”
“He was a foster child all of his life. Most of it spent up in the Northwest states then Oklahoma and Kansas. I didn’t know they moved foster kids around like that, did you?”
“That was another question Clara but no, I didn’t know that. Of course I don’t know anything about how the foster care thing works. But really…ALL of is life?”
“Yeah” Clara answered with a gloomy tone, “Always moving.”
“That’s sad. No one ever adopted him?”
“No.”
“Why, is something wrong with him?”
“No” Clara laughed, “He’s perfect.”
“Nobody’s perfect honey. Do you have a picture of him?”
Clara reached under the desk for her purse, thumbed through her wallet for her favorite photograph and flaunted the snapshot of her and Jim standing before the Grand Canyon.
“Arizona?”
Clara nodded proudly.
“I haven’t made it that far west yet. He’s a big ole booger bear aint he?” Maggie remarked still gazing at the picture, “Is that where you two met?”
“No, he was working for a highway crew coming through Texas and came in to the Eats & Ale for breakfast one morning. I was working there and well the rest is history. What brought you to Texas Maggie? ”
“A Pontiac Grand Am and a dear friend.” She shot back hoping Clara wouldn’t press that topic and Maggie turned the questions back toward her, “So you worked at the Eats & Ale? For how long?”
“Since I was tall enough to reach the counter, my parents own it.”
“Really? That’s neat” Maggie said with amusement. “I thought the old Irish couple owned it.”
“That would be my parents.” Clara informed her, “Although my mother claims to be Scottish, most people can’t tell the difference- my parents insist there’s a world of difference but I for the life of me don’t know what it is other than geographical.”
“Is it a colloquial difference?” Maggie asked, still amused.
“Besides the spelling with Mc or Mac I really have no idea. They pretty much sound like plain ole Texan’s to me.” Clara admitted.
“They seem like really good people, you must be proud of them.”
“Thank you Maggie, that’s sweet. I guess I am proud of them”
“And that Jim character must be an angel judging by the way you light up when you talk about him.”
“I think he may be.” Clara laughed, “To put up with me sometimes-”
Maggie leapt from her seat and raced to Linda’s room before it had even dawned on Clara that the monitor had blipped and the one beside the bed was flashing.
“It’s just a loose lead.” Maggie called out before Clara reached the room. She stood outside the glass window and watched as Maggie checked the remaining leads, her vital signs and neuro responses. “Isn’t it about time for you to go home?” Maggie asked.
Clara looked at the oversized clock on the opposite wall. “Ten minutes.” She replied.
“Why don’t you go ahead, I can’t leave anyway – Linda was my relief.”
“Are you sure?” Clara asked.
“Yes, I’m sure now go on.” Maggie shooed at her till Clara picked up her purse and headed for the exit.
“Bye then.” Clara called back over her shoulder.
“Have a nice day.” Maggie yelled back. When she was sure that Clara was gone she sat down on the side of the bed, nudging the limp body with a bump of her hip,
“Move over. Me and you have got to have a talk Linda Sue.” It didn’t matter that Linda was not likely to respond.
“I’m not sure if you can hear me but I really need to talk to you,”
Maggie eyed her for a reaction then took a deep breath and verbally lit into the defenseless woman.
“Damn your hide Linda Latrull. This isn’t how you do things! You’re a fighter, not a quitter but here you are trying to quit on me? Clara was right, who the hell cuts their self like that? Huh?”
Seeing that the accusations didn’t bring about any type of retaliation Maggie spoke in a lighter tone, “What was going on girlfriend? What did I miss?”
She watched Linda’s chest rise and fall in disbelief with a mix of sadness and anger.
“You’re not gonna wake up and say any thing are you? You little chicken shit! That’s right I’m calling you a chicken shit! Aren’t you mad about that? Wake up and get mad damn you. Oh no, excuse me… I forgot you said you were tired. You’re tired – well so am I! Hell the whole universe is tired.”
Maggie sat for a moment hoping, praying for an answer. Willing if she could that the sleeping beauty would wake up and for a second she imagined she saw the eyes flutter… it was an involuntary movement and Maggie felt dejected.
“I don’t know if we got to you fast enough sweetie. I’m scared for you, for us both.
You know I’ve got no one else… how could you do this. We could have talked it out.”
Maggie was caressing Linda’s arms, petting her face, smoothing the bristly soft hair.
“Remember when you showed up at my door all scuffed up, homeless and looking for a different way of life? And remember when I called you naked and beaten down like a dog-
I had no one else and not a nickel to my name but you came and got me? Remember how we said we had each other’s back? Well I’m here girl friend, where are you?”
Maggie let the
tears drip from her face and spatter upon Linda’s as if some how her essence might revive her dear friend. She was so engrossed in her attempt to arouse the only one she could count on that she hadn’t noticed Clara standing at the foot of the bed.
“For crying out loud Clara, I thought you had left. I told you to go home.” Maggie admonished her and turned her head away, brushing her face against her shoulder while the tears lay in tiny puddles on the chin and cheeks of Linda.
“I forgot my picture.” Clara said with embarrassment holding up the photo she had shown Maggie earlier and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table.
“Blow your nose.” She told Maggie, extending the tissue.
“Thanks.” She replied.
“So y’all go way back? You and Linda, huh?”
Maggie nodded and began rubbing Linda’s arms again.
“I would have never guessed it- though I do see a lot of similarities in you two….
I don’t think I could have kept my composure as well or as long as you did. You’re a brave woman Maggie Turner.” Clara said placing her hand on Maggie’s dropped shoulder with a new understanding and compassion.
“It was your husband, wasn’t it? He hit you, banged your head against something… you were covered in blood… he beat you but he couldn’t break you down, not your spirit and then he kicked you before he left…”
Mystified Maggie stared up at Clara who seemed to be in some sort of a trance.
“Who told you that?”
Clara shrugged her shoulders not yet able to blink her eyes, “I don’t know…” she said, “Some times I see things.”
“Go on home Clara.” Maggie coaxed, “You need to get some rest and I’ll see you this evening, okay?”
“I’m sorry, that was…”
“It’s okay Clara. Go, you’re apparently exhausted.”
“I think I’ll go by the Eats & Ale” Clara answered weakly and shook her head as the gaze let go, “You want to come with me?”
“Not today.” Maggie said, “But thanks for the offer.”
Clara was certain that Maggie thought she was the weirdo now and she needed desperately to see her mother. Not just in the way that a girl always needs her mother she was looking for answers. Mrs. O’Bromley had talked about clairvoyants but Clara never held any faith in that sort of thing at least not until today. She hoped her mother could help explain the odd dreams and visions that were plaguing her and the peculiar thing that had just happened.
Maggie nudged Linda and whispered, “That was weird wasn’t it? Don’t know if I want to be around someone who can see into me like that. What about you Voodoo Priestess?”
And Linda’s finger flinched.
Chapter 15
Gift or Curse
“Clara Bell!” Mr. O’Bromley roared as his daughter strolled into the hostelry, “Give your dear old dad a hug.” He grabbed Clara up before she could get her lab coat off.
“Hey Daddy.” She said pecking him on the cheek, “Where’s Mama?”
“I should’ve known it weren’t me you come to see.” He frowned and then winked, “Your ma is out back. Have a seat and I’ll holler at her.”
Clara helped herself to a coffee and warm raisin danish before taking a seat in the corner booth. She had barely settled in and creamed her coffee when Mrs. O’Bromley came shuffling across the dinning room. Clara stood to hug her mother and after a quick embrace Mrs. O’ Bromley said, “Sit back down. I know you got something on your mind when you pick this seat.”
“Oh really? Clara sneered in jest.
“You know it’s the truth so don’t play coy with me child, she said sliding in to the opposing seat, “You just missed Jimbo.”
“Aww. Did he eat a good breakfast?”
“You know he did, there aint a thing wrong with that man’s appetite. But I believe he worries a bit too much about you.” Mrs. O’Bromley said with a raised brow.
“I’ve been having some crazy dreams Mama or nightmares really. And lately visions pop in my head; sometimes it’s like looking on at a thing and other times it feels like I’m the one doing the thing.”
“Go on.”
“Well I’ve heard you talk about clairvoyants most of my life and I was just wondering… do you think I’m one?”
“I don’t know. A better question is what do you think?”
“I’m at a loss- that’s why I came to you.” Clara said picking the raisins from her pastry.
“Let’s see….Have you ever knew the future before it came to pass?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve seen the future... maybe the past.”
“Can you read my mind? Right now, can you read my mind?”
Clara strained for a few seconds and said, “You’re thinking you need to put a roast on for the lunch crowd?”
“That was a guess Clara! You know my routine. Try again.”
They both sat quietly for over a minute, maybe two until the frustrated Clara said,
“Nothing. I don’t see anything. So what now?”
“I’m not an expert Clara, I don’t know how the mind works but I know there are folks that can honestly do that and I’m not talking about some circus clown that’s good at reading peoples body language or personality.”
“Like you saying I’d marry Jim?”
“Yep. But anything I see comes random and I don’t call myself a clairvoyant. Tell me more about these visions and dreams and when it was they happened.”
Clara spent the next hour telling her mother about the nightmare with the dying patient and Maggie, the vision she had of beating Maggie and the trance like state where she told Maggie it was her husband who beat her as well as a few other things that had been happening.
“You got some sort of gift, but I don’t know what it is or what you’d call it.” Mrs. O’Bromley said tapping her finger to her chin.
“I wouldn’t call it a gift Mama. What good does it do me or anyone else to see things after the fact or things I can’t do anything to change? Maybe it’s a curse.”
“Don’t you doubt God and all his nature!” her mother scolded, “Aint up to us to decide what we get and when- just figure out how to use it. Didn’t you say that patient told you to tell somebody something about Omaha?”
Clara chuckled, “Olam-ha-ba. I tried to look it up to see what it meant but it’s not in the dictionary…. You think she wanted me to tell them to go to Omaha?”
“Better not say that, they’re liable to believe you and make the trip for nothing.”
Clara and Mrs. O’Bromley laughed heartily. “Yeah.” Clara spit between gasps of humor “I can see me calling up her daughter and saying “your mom came to me after she died and said she wants you to go to Omaha.”
“Ask her if I can go too.” Mrs. O’Bromley snorted, “I’ve never been to Nebraska.”
The women were in hysterics when they saw Mr. O’Bromley standing stone faced at the head of the table.
“What’s the matter daddy?” Clara asked trying to appear more solemn.
Mrs. O’Bromley was cooing a loud ahhh and wiping her eyes with the tail of her apron.
“You girls having fun are you?”
They both nodded and started to giggle again.
“And at the expense of a dead woman’s dying wish, no doubt. Shame on the both of ya!”
The stout gray haired Irishman stood over the women shaking his head in slow motion, from side to side with each turn implying another shame on you.
Clara did feel a little ashamed as she soberly replied, “I’m sorry Dad. I hadn’t considered it like that. Honestly I apologize.”
“It was inconsiderate but taint me ya ought to be apologizing to, you best deliver that poor souls message to her family at first chance.” Turning to look at his wife Mr. O’Bromley sighed with disappointment,
“And you Mary O’Bromley…knowing the gifts of spirit ye yourself possess and all but mocking with your jokes of Omaha bustin’ at the seams.”
Clara almost los
t her composure again but his stern tone kept it in check as he glanced at her then back to continue the rebuke of her mother, “Did you ever tell little Clara why you named her such?”
Clara looked puzzled turning to Mrs. O’Bromley, who was indicating no and saying,
“Weren’t no need to before. I thought it were a vain vision.”
“”What do you mean?” Clara inquired looking back and forth at the two fixed in a staring contest of sorts.
“Your mother,” Mr. O’Bromley said “seen herself having a pale eyed girl even when the doctor had done told her she weren’t able to bear children. She had a faulty womb ya know. Not only that -she proclaimed the babe would have the gift of seeing. That’s what started her on the way of always talking about clairvoyants. She believed it so much she named you Clara three years `fore you were ever born.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that Mama?”
“Never had the opportunity or reason `fore now. If this … this gift you have I mean. I told you I have no idea what to call it or how to tell you to use it. Sometimes its best to keep ones mouth shut!” she said staring straight at her husband.
“What do you think about it Daddy?” Clara asked, looking to her father for direction.
“I think you should welcome it Clara Bell.” He said, softly smiling down on his daughter,
“Take it for what it is- no more, no less.” He paused making Clara believe the next words would be filled with insight and she waited assiduously for him to continue,
“And if you don’t know what to do with it…” he drew the pause further until his audience was captivated and announced
“Take it to Omaha.”
Laughter erupted as the old man slapped his knee with delight and announced, “Drinks on the house.” Knowing of course the only persons there were the three of them.
Chapter 16
The Voodoo Priestess
Linda Latrull was born in the backroom of a curio shop in the Vieux Carré of New Orleans that catered black magic to tourists. Her mother claimed to be a direct descendant of the first Marie Laveau. Of course countless Creole women made the same claim. When Linda was eight years old her mother taught her to glue plastic skulls to pencils and pedal them for three dollars a piece. That along with the trinkets made in China that sold in the store allowed the single mother a descent income but her real passion was voodoo. Madam Latrull believed in the power of superstitions and rituals but had trouble convincing young Linda that they were anything other than another way to turn a buck. After all Linda had seen the vials of potions filled with tap water and dye, peeled the stickers off of imported candles and cut paint brushes and labeled them pig bristles in order to sell their enchantments.
