“As long as he gets us out of here, I don’t care.” She finished, and shoved the almost empty alcohol container and the remainder of the gauze into her shoulder bag. “Afraid that’s all I can do for you at the moment.”
She expected him to make a saucy comeback, but he didn’t.
His countenance remained grim but his unswollen eye held a stubborn determination. “When we get out of here, I’ll make this up to you, Avery. I swear I will.”
Averting her gaze, she murmured, “Just get some rest. I’m going to.”
After she once again seated herself on the dirt floor, Avery leaned her aching head against the rough wooden wall. Either the smell was lessening, or she was actually getting used to it. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax.
The rattling of the lock made her eyes fly open. Somehow, she’d managed to fall asleep, for the inside of the shack was darker. What little light came in through the holes between the planks seemed slanted and diffused. Her second surprise came when she realized that Rip stood next to the door, bait bucket in his hands, poised to clobber whoever crossed the threshold.
The door opened a crack and a familiar voice called softly, “Rip? Avery?”
Rising to her feet, Avery released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and Rip lowered the bucket and stepped back.
Luc DuBois entered, his nose wrinkling. “Sorry to leave you so long in this stinking place.”
“You alone?” Rip asked, craning his neck to look outside.
“Afraid so,” Luc acknowledged with a grim nod. “By the time Yvette’s brother, Thierry and I got back to the barracks, they’d discovered you missing. No way we could get close to Williams. The place was like an ant hill. Thierry stayed to try again later.”
Even in the darkness, Avery could tell by the sudden shift in Rip’s stance that he felt the same sense of doom she did. With Rip gone, had the soldiers killed Williams? The very thought made her nauseous.
“Sun’s almost down,” Luc quickly switched the subject. “Let’s get out of here.” He swung the door open wide and motioned for them to proceed him. “We’re going by boat to St. Namadie.”
“Where’s that?” Avery asked, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air.
Rip answered while Luc relocked the door. “The other side of the island. It’s the town where my mother grew up and where we lived when I was a little boy.”
“You’ll be safer there.” Luc reassured, then led the way to the dock.
They walked quickly through the fading twilight. Relief coursed through Avery’s veins as Rip kept pace on his own, with only the slightest hint of a limp. Luc stopped beside one of the little skiffs tied to the pilings. With peeling paint, and an ancient outboard motor, the craft barely looked sea-worthy.
Avery bit her lip and silently hoped they weren’t making that proverbial leap from frying pan to fire. But it wasn’t like they had any other choice, she reminded herself. She gripped Luc’s hand for balance as she stepped from the pier into the boat, and sat on the wooden plank seat closest to the bow. Rip followed, but sat on the back bench closer to the motor. Luc untied the ropes securing the skiff to the dock, then leapt in.
After a couple of tries, the engine sputtered to life and they were off. Traffic in the harbor was minimal, and confined mostly to the more industrial side. Still, Luc kept the boat close to the shoreline, their speed maddeningly slow. Though Avery realized he was trying to attract as little notice as possible, her shoulders ached with tension, and every noise made her jump. Williams might very well be dead. She and Rip could easily be next.
The cooling breeze whipped against her face and tugged at the cloth wrapped around her head. Avery reached up and unwound it, folding the colorful fabric and placing it in her shoulder bag. She’d twisted her hair into a knot in order to keep it covered, but she loosened it, even undoing the ponytail she wore most of the time. Finger-combing out the worst of the tangles, she let the strands blow back over her shoulders. If she was going to die tonight, at least she could enjoy the wind in her hair one last time.
Chapter 7
The sight of Avery’s golden hair whipping in the breeze set off a battle of possessiveness, recrimination and guilt in Rip’s consciousness. She’d risked everything to save his life, and he’d put her in harm’s way. He hoped and prayed that Luc was right and they’d be safe in St. Namadie, at least until he figured out a way to get himself and Avery off Benezet.
But first he wanted answers from Luc, which was why he’d chosen to sit near him instead of Avery. He waited until they’d negotiated their way safely out of the harbor and headed into open sea.
Seeing no point in small talk, Rip began without preamble. “So who sent you to LA with me?”
Luc glanced at him, but his face and ton remained impassive. “Your uncle Jean Jacques and your cousin JB. They knew your father was dying and they wanted to make sure you wouldn’t try to stop them from consolidating their control.”
Rip had heard this same nonsense from the CIA agents in Miami. He hadn’t put much credence in it then, and he still had a hard time believing he could be seen as a threat. “I don’t get it, I hadn’t been to Benezet in years.”
“But as the legitimate heir of Phillipe Pollendene, you had every right to step into your father’s place,” Luc informed him. “And there are many on Benezet who would support you. Remember when I came back to Benezet six months ago? I couldnât believe what was happening. Since Phillipe’s death, Jean Jacque has lost his grip, and JB has grown drunk and greedy with his new power. Winds of change have stirred up everyone on the island.”
Abruptly, Avery turned and joined the conversation. “Isn’t it the CIA who has stirred everyone up?”
Luc shrugged as he guided the boat around a rocky outcrop sticking out of the water. “Certainly the CIA would like a Caribbean leader they can control. They think that might be Rip. I think theyâre wrong. But I see now that Benezet is ready for a new leader.”
Rip shifted uneasily at his old friend’s pointed reference. “You’ve all got the wrong man,” he insisted. “I’m not interested in politics here or anywhere else.”
“Your cousin and uncle appear to believe otherwise,” Luc replied in what was most likely the understatement of the year.
“And clearly the CIA has blown this in a major way,” Avery declared, crossing her arms with a hrumph. “So how are we getting out of this?”
“For now, we can only try to hide in a safe place,” Luc answered in his annoying aloof manner that grated on Rip’s nerves almost as much as the precarious situation.
“I guess we have no other choice,” he reluctantly admitted.
“I’m afraid not,” Luc agreed increasing their speed.
The noise of the outboard motor hampered further conversation. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts as the boat skimmed over the dark water.
After an hour, Rip felt a shift in the direction of the wind, and figured they must be rounding the southern end of the island. The wind immediately picked up and the water grew rougher. With no suitable harbors below Saturnina, that region of Benezet remained unpopulated, so they saw no other watercraft, and no lights from the shore. Rip hoped Luc remembered how to navigate between Saturnina and St. Namadie.
Another half-hour later, he got his answer when the twinkling lights of the town appeared. Relief washed through him, but a nagging bit of unease lingered. His concern increased a notch when Luc slowed the boat and pointed them toward shore before they reached St. Namadie.
“Do you remember Caillou Beach?” Luc asked as they headed for a small crescent of dark sand.
Distant memories coalesced in Rip’s consciousness and he nodded. “I played here as a child.”
“Then I trust you can find your way to Mama Simone’s from here.” Luc cut the motor and let the waves wash them up. “She’ll be expecting you.”
Full-blown fear flashed inside Rip. “You better not have put her in danger!”
&nb
sp; “Relax,” Luc admonished. The boat ground to a halt in about two feet of water. “I meant she’s a Sage Femme and will have foreseen your return.” He turned his attention to Avery. “I’m sorry my dear, I’m afraid you must get your feet wet.”
Avery looked at the two of them with an annoyed expression. “Who is this Mama Simone and what’s a Sage Femme?”
“She was my nanny.” Rip, who was barefoot, turned the legs of his baggy pants up so that they were above his knees. “And the Sage Femmes are local island legends, sort of like voodoo priestess.”
Luc’s tone bordered on scolding. “The Sage Femmes are real and we’ve all seen and heard about some of the things they do. People respect and sometimes fear them for good reason.”
Rip waved his hand as if shooing a pesky insect. “Whatever. As long as we aren’t endangering Mama Simone.”
He hoisted himself over the side of the boat, sucking in a quick breath at the combined shock of cold water and the sting of the salt on his scraped shins. A breaking wave caught him off balance and he grasped the top railing on the boat to steady himself. Gathering the long tail of her skirt up and holding it over her shoulder, Avery hopped over the opposite side and moved quickly out of the water.
“Are we beaching the boat here?” Rip asked when Luc made no move to join them.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going back to Saturnina to help Thierry with our friend Williams. Mama Simone will know the best place to hide both of you for a day or two.”
Rip started to protest, then thought better of it. If Williams was still alive, Luc was probably the only one who could save him.
“When will you be back?” Avery asked.
“Iâll be in touch,” Luc replied, then addressed Rip. “Give me a shove?”
Grabbing the bow, Rip put his shoulder into it and immediately regretted his action. His ribs burned like hell. Luckily one push was enough and the sputtering of the motor restarting covered his groan. He stood with the water lapping against his ankles as Luc and the boat disappeared into the darkness.
“Are you okay to walk?” Worry tinged Averyâs voice.
“No problem. As I recall, itâs not far.”
Though she frowned doubtfully, she followed him across the pebbly strip of beach, the wind whipping her head scarf loose. When they reached the rise covered in sea grass, she pulled her shoes out of her bag and slipped them on. Climbing over the sandy hill proved to be slow going, but Rip vowed to himself that he would not let her guess how much pain he was in. But he couldn’t disguise how winded he was when they reached the top.
Below them, the lights of the town twinkled while above, a few scattered stars shined between swiftly moving clouds. The path leading down into St. Namadie was clearly marked, but it took Rip a few moments to locate the much smaller one leading the other direction. After walking a few more yards, he caught sight of the rickety wooden fence and the profusion of trees and vines surrounding a white wooden cottage with bright pink shutters.
“A voodoo priestess lives there?” Avery questioned, and Rip chuckled with relief.
Ignoring his aches and pains, he hurried up the path, not pausing until he opened the rusty metal gate and walked into the yard. At the creaking of the gate hinges, the porch light flashed on, and a moment later the screen door opened. A tiny stooped figure in bright island garb stepped out. Abruptly, he stopped short and Avery bumped into him.
“That you, Rip, mon cher?” The figure called out in a raspy voice. “‘Bout time you got here. Supper’s got cold.”
The sudden thickness in his throat took Rip by surprise. He cleared it and said, “Yes, it’s me, Mama Simone.”
The little woman stepped to the edge of the circle of light and squinted. “Get on up here and let me look at you. Is that Luc Du Bois with you? No, I see now, it’s your woman with the gold hair.” She motioned with her arm as if to gather the two of them in.
Behind him, he could feel Avery hesitate, but she followed him up the porch stairs nonetheless.
“Mon cher, you grew so big!” Mama Simone gasped as he mounted the top step and stood next to her. She grasped his arm and stood on tip-toe to touch his cheek. “Handsome, too.”
Funny how he didn’t remember her being so short, and her comments actually made Rip shuffle his feet in embarrassment. He bent to give her an air kiss on each cheek, then backed up a step. “Mama Simone, this is my friend, Avery.”
Her wizen features shifted into a knowing smile and she grasped Avery’s hand in both of hers. “You’re another tall one, eh girl? And more than a friend, I’m thinking.”
Avery ducked her head and murmured, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“You call me Mama Simone, same as everybody else in these parts.” She turned and swung the screen door open wide and waved her whole arm at them again. “Get in the house.”
The living room, or parlor as Mama Simone called it, was also smaller than Rip remembered. And more cluttered, with wicker furniture, framed pictures and books crowding the room. But the pungent smell of dried herbs and live plants was the same as when he’d stayed here as a child. Pots of greenery and flowers lined the window sill and shelves. Clumps of drying plants hung upside down from the curtain rods, and a pair of finches chittered from a round birdcage in the corner. Rip couldn’t help but smile at Avery’s wide-eyed glances around the room. The wooden floor boards groaned as they wound their way through the room and into the kitchen.
Mama Simone turned on the overhead light and bade them sit at the wooden table which boasted only two chairs. All three pieces were painted bright yellow with designs in green and red. She plunked two dark green plates in front of them and grabbed a heavy skillet off the stove.
“Fried plantains,” she said, dishing up generous helpings. Then she pulled a roasted chicken from the oven and gave them each two large pieces. “Eat up!”
Rip didn’t need to be told twice, and neither did Avery. Mama Simone put the teakettle on while they ate.
“I’ll brew up a potion for those bruises, mon cher,” she told Rip.
He noticed Avery glancing uneasily from her plate to the old woman who stood at the counter, dropping ingredients into a stone mortar and grinding them together with a crude pestle. When Mama Simone poured boiling water on the concoction, a strong sweet aroma drifted over the room.
“Need to let it cool a minute,” she explained as she placed the whole thing inside the old-fashioned refrigerator. “How ‘bout a blackberry tart for dessert? I got only one but I ‘spect you can share it.” She cut the pastry in half and when she put Avery’s portion on her plate, she chided softly. “Don’t you worry, girl. I been doctoring a long time. Ain’t enough real doctors on Benezet, so people come to us Sage Femmes.”
Avery stared at her plate and fidgeted with her fork. “I meant no disrespect, ma’am — Mama Simone.”
The old woman patted her shoulder. “You’re a city girl who don’t know better, but you’re smart and strong.” She fingered a strand of Avery’s hair. “Pretty too. You’ll be a good wife for our Rip.”
The bite of berry tart suddenly stuck in Rip’s throat. His violent coughing fit drowned out whatever Avery had said, but her stunned expression matched his own shocked reaction. Mama Simone pounded him between the shoulder blades and then handed him a mug of tap water.
Shaking her head, she clucked her tongue and scolded Rip. “You think it was dumb luck you landed on her ship? Us Sage Femmes seen it all. We cast the spells. We brought you back to Benezet, and your woman with you.”
***
Holy moly! The old lady really was a voodoo priestess.
Avery’s stomach clenched, and she couldn’t eat another bite. She doubted this day could get any more bizarre. The idea that she was the object of magic spells was just the cherry on the top of this whole crazy mess.
Across the table, Rip gained control of his coughing though he continued to wheeze. He looked like the same guy she’d known in college, but who w
as he really?
Avery had never thought about what his childhood might have been like, now she realized how very different it was from hers. While she’d lived a very ordinary American white-bread life, he’d spent his first nine or ten years on this island under the influence of this weird old woman who brewed potions and cast spells. Not to mention the small detail of his father being a military dictator.
Dizziness swamped her, and Avery realized she was on the verge of hyperventilating. The implications of what sheâd jumped into by coming after Rip washed over her. She dropped her head into her hands and took several slow deep breaths. Behind her, she heard Mama Simone chuckle, but the sound made her think of a cackling witch. Clearly her imagination was running wild.
“You okay?” Rip’s concerned voice broke into her thoughts.
“Fine,” she lied, as she watched Mama Simone take her herbal concoction out of the fridge.
The old woman soaked the end of a tea towel in the liquid and dabbed it on the cut on Rip’s cheek. Her black eyes met Avery’s. “Don’t worry, girl. It’ll be fine. You just need a hot bath to make you feel better.” She folded the wet towel and pressed it against Rip’s swollen eye. “Hold this here, mon cher.” Then she motioned for Avery to follow her.
An ancient cast iron tub dominated the long, narrow bathroom. Mama Simone pulled the string on a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and handed Avery a towel from a shelf over the commode. “I’ll take the pair of you to a better hiding place before the sun comes up. There’s a mighty storm coming, so rest while you can.”
Before Avery could voice any of the questions bubbling through her mind, the woman closed the door behind her. Though Avery turned both faucets fully open, only a small stream of water ran into the tub. Rather than wait for the tub to fill, she peeled off her clothes and bathed hastily while the water continued to run. The sound kept her from hearing anything else going on, but it also interrupted the stream of thoughts spiraling through her mind, which suited Avery just fine.
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