by Laurie Paige
Matt glanced where she pointed. Pale pink flowers grew on the wall near one of the pine trees that stood like a sentinel at the garden’s corner.
“That would be a good place to sprinkle her ashes, wouldn’t it?” he asked, ushering her toward the spot.
Odd, but he felt the need to get Kerry away from the old plantation, which was gradually returning to the marsh. The place felt eerie, as if it would suck the soul out of someone as sensitive as she was.
“Yes,” she said. “I think we should scatter them along the four sides of the garden.” Her voice was low, subdued, as if she was hesitant to disturb any spirits that lingered in this forlorn place.
Unable to dispel his illogical worry, Matt followed Kerry as she sprinkled the ashes down each fence line.
“To the gentle spirit of the east wind,” she said at the end of the path leading to the stone wall in that direction. A rusted wrought-iron bench was discernible through a mound of vines. She opened the urn and sprinkled the ashes in the space between the wall and the brick path.
They returned to the middle of the garden, then walked to the north wall, where the path continued to the house. “To the restless spirit of the north wind,” she said and left a trail of ashes. “To the adventurous spirit of the west wind,” she intoned at that wall, and finally, “To the wise spirit of the south wind.”
He breathed a sigh of relief when the job was done and the urn was empty.
“I suppose we’d better head back,” he said.
She nodded, but didn’t move. “There’s a niche in the pedestal holding the big vase. We can put the urn there.”
Returning to the center of the garden, he held her hand while she stepped over the shell-shaped edge of the basin and set the carved urn into the narrow recess, which seemed as if it had been made for this purpose.
“There were statues in these niches, I think,” Kerry said, clasping his hand to climb out. “Someone must have taken them, but you can see where the round bases were attached once upon a time.”
Her last words lingered in his mind. Once upon a time.
Fairy-tale words. Once upon a time, a child and her parents lived on a magical plantation surrounded by pines and oaks and a bayou where crayfish and dragonflies played all day. Life was perfect.
But of course it hadn’t been.
He wondered if he and this petite, caring woman would look back on this week as a time out of their lives, that had drawn them close for a few days before they’d resumed their real lives. Kerry had made it pretty clear that was what she wanted.
“The sidewalk goes to the bayou,” she said. “Let’s walk out there.”
Still holding hands, they made their way around the old fountain, following the walkway to the water. He noted the slant of the shadows on the stream. The sun was still fairly high above the stand of cypress trees west of them, where the bayou curved out of sight. At night, this place would be spooky with the moss swaying from the trees and the wind moaning through the grasses.
He thought of ghosts and vengeful spirits. Although he didn’t believe in such things, he wouldn’t want to be caught back here in the swampland after dark. The road had been hard enough to follow during daylight hours, and he wanted Kerry safely back in the city long before the sun went down.
“We should leave soon,” he reminded her.
She nodded and let go of his hand, her eyes on the darkly flowing ribbon of water as if drawn to it by forces she couldn’t resist.
At the end of the sidewalk, he saw posts that indicated a pier had once stood there to welcome visitors by boat. Only a skeleton of broken planks remained. Kerry, he noted, was fingering the bracelet on her left arm, moving from one charm to the next like a nun saying her rosary.
Again he felt uneasy, though he couldn’t say why.
“There’s a house over there,” she said. “A car is going up the driveway.”
Matt followed her line of vision across the bayou. The sun glinted off a windshield, then another and another.
“More than one,” he said.
“Maybe they’re having a party, a grand afternoon tea. Do people still do those?”
A smile touched her lips, now bare of lipstick, but lush and pink nevertheless. Matt suppressed the hunger that was never far from the surface when he was with Kerry.
“I think it’s called bridge club these days,” Matt teased.
Across the tall grasses that waved in the slight breeze, they could hear voices calling greetings to each other. Again it seemed as if they’d stepped into another era—one of carriages and tea parties and fancy balls.
After the guests went inside the mansion, all was quiet. Kerry turned to him. “Patti’s aunt and uncle live there. My sister found the address for me. I saw the name scrolled in wrought iron over a driveway before we made the last turn coming here.” She turned back to the grand country house across the bayou. “That’s where she lived as an orphan.”
He saw Kerry touch the bracelet again. She was so pensive he slipped an arm around her and held her close to him, the protective urge so strong he couldn’t deny it. There was something fragile about her, as if she might shatter if touched too roughly.
“Atta said Patti was unhappy there.” Kerry nodded toward the house, her hand enclosing the bracelet.
“Yes,” he said.
“But I think she was happy here.”
As if released from an enchantment, they turned as one and surveyed the old plantation house. Kerry smiled up at him. “This was the right thing to do. I can feel it.” She held up her arm so he could see the charm bracelet. “We have done good Ju-Ju today. All the roaming spirits are now at rest here.”
She opened her hand. He saw the gold ring on her palm. He waited, thinking she might throw it into the water, but she stood there a few seconds, then slipped it back into the pocket of her jeans. The ring was still a problem.
On the return trip, they drove past the cottage, but no one was on the porch, so Matt didn’t stop.
Farther along the road, they passed a church and a small cemetery. “Can we stop?” Kerry asked softly.
He did so reluctantly, feeling that she had had enough emotional stress for one day, but he respected her request. He pulled into the neatly maintained driveway and parked under the shade of an oak heavy with moss.
“This may be the parish cemetery where Patti’s folks are buried,” she said when they got out of the car. She held out her hand to him.
Matt noted that they automatically held hands when they were together. He wondered if Kerry noticed.
“What?” she asked.
He held up their clasped hands. “I’m reminded of my sister. Since she was four years older, she insisted on holding my hand while crossing the street. At five, I rebelled, telling her I could do it by myself. She informed me if I got run over it would be my own stupid fault. Now I find I like holding hands.”
Kerry gave him one of her warm glances. “Me, too,” she murmured, looking away. “Were you and your sister friends?”
He felt a slight distancing on her part and resisted the urge to hold her tighter. “Yes. When I was in high school and she was in college, I’d call her when I had woman trouble and she’d explain the female psyche to me. Not that I always believed her, but mostly she was right. As we grew up, she became my best friend.”
“Sharon and I are close, too.” She hesitated. “I’m glad you had your sister. Everyone needs someone to connect to, especially if your parents aren’t—I mean—”
“I know what you mean, Kerry,” he assured her.
“My parents lived their lives as they saw fit. So do I.
If I’m ever blessed with a family, I want to be part of my children’s lives.”
She gave him a glowing look of approval, making him feel as if he was the wisest man in the world.
“Oh, look,” she said, pointing to a vault. “Ruoui.
That’s Patti’s family name.”
They studied the names in the area a
nd found the graves went back several generations. “Almost two hundred years,” he remarked. “That’s a long history.”
“Yes, and Patti knew where their first ancestor to settle here came from, too. She told me she was related to Josephine Bonaparte. Seeing how far back her ancestors go makes me believe her story.”
“I wonder if she was the last of the Ruoui line.”
A shadow crossed Kerry’s face, darkening her eyes. “I think she must be. She had no siblings and her aunt hasn’t any children.” She surveyed the richly carved marble and granite vaults. “I can envision Patti here as a child, walking with her parents and listening to her father recount dashing tales about their ancestors. It must have given her a sense of continuity, don’t you think?”
He nodded.
“And now that line is broken,” she ended somberly.
They continued strolling and reading the names, dates and messages engraved into the stones. At one site, they paused while Matt read the inscription. “His family hopes his journey proves fortuitous, wherever it may lead.” Matt grinned. “It doesn’t sound as if they have a lot of hope about where he’s going to spend eternity.”
Kerry pressed a hand over her mouth.
“What?” he demanded, seeing the amusement in her eyes.
“When Sharon and I were kids, we went to our great-aunt’s funeral. She was our grandmother’s only sister, and she was a stickler for manners and rather mean to us kids. When Nana dropped a handful of dirt on her coffin, Sharon and I recited, ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; if the Lord won’t have you, then the devil must.’ I thought my mom was going to faint from mortification, but everyone else, including my grandmother and the pastor, burst into laughter. I think that saved us from being grounded for life.”
The tension went out of his shoulders at seeing her back to her usual buoyant self. “My father,” he confided, “would have had a coronary if my sister and I had done anything like that.”
They laughed together in perfect understanding. It felt good. From that first odd moment when she’d come over to help him with the unknown woman in his bed, being with Kerry had felt good. He had a feeling if he let her disappear from his life he would miss something important in his future.
After reading a few more inscriptions, they returned to the car and headed for the city. Matt saw Kerry’s eyes held only humor and the nostalgia of gentle memories. Contentment filled his own soul.
BACK IN NEW ORLEANS, Kerry kept an eye out for a parking space as Matt cruised the block around the hotel for the second time.
“There’s one,” she said as a car vacated a spot.
Matt whipped in and parallel parked with no problem.
“You’re good,” she declared. “I always manage to either run into the curb or have one end of the car sticking out into the street. There must be a secret to it that no one has told me about.”
“Most people don’t pull up close enough to the car ahead before they start backing up.”
“Aha, I knew there was something I’d missed.”
Laughing, they linked hands and went into the hotel. A man rose from a chair and came to Kerry.
“I need to talk to you,” Jason Pichante told her. He glanced at Matt. “Alone.”
“I’ll be in the suite,” Matt said after she gave him a nod to indicate she was okay to be alone with Jason.
Kerry didn’t miss the glance he sent the younger man, as if warning him he’d better not hurt her feelings.
“There are chairs over here,” Jason said.
He led the way to an alcove containing a tiny table and two brocaded chairs. From here they could look out on the street where Saturday night revelers had already gathered. By contrast, she noted, the hotel lobby, other than staff and a few people going through to their rooms, was empty.
She studied the younger man, waiting for him to tell her his reason for being there. His handsome face showed the ravages of grief. There were fresh lines across his forehead and darker circles under his eyes. The planes of his cheeks and jaw were still handsome and aristocratic looking, but they seemed leaner, too, more sharply etched.
“Do you want the ring?” she asked quietly.
He tore his gaze from the street scene and stared at her. He shook his head. “Keep it for your daughter. Advise her of the futility of loving a coward.”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“It’s what I am.” He spoke without any visible emotion. “I wanted to tell you the truth of that night before I go.”
“You’re leaving New Orleans?”
“Yes. I’ve told my parents. And my fiancée.”
Her heart constricted at the word, and she thought of Patti, who had loved this man.
He took a deep breath. “That night…Twelfth Night…I told Patti about the engagement and the announcement that would be made at my parents’ party. She was stunned. I told her it wouldn’t make any difference to us.”
Kerry couldn’t suppress the tiny gasp his words caused. “You wanted her for your mistress after you married someone else?”
“Yeah. Some Twelfth Night gift, wasn’t it?” he said with a bitter laugh.
Kerry stared at him without answering.
He continued. “We were sitting in the courtyard here at the hotel. We’d been dancing, and she was laughing as some tourists stared at our outfits. After I told her of the engagement, she said she couldn’t see me again. She stood, ready to walk out on me, but I pulled her into my arms and started to dance. I asked her to let me explain.
“I told her the marriage was necessary because the girl’s father held credit notes from my father that he was threatening to call. The family would be ruined if…if I didn’t comply. Politically, it was a good marriage. Patti understood that.”
“Did she agree to be the third party in this arrangement?”
“No. She said if the engagement was announced, she would take that as the end for us.”
“Good for her,” Kerry murmured.
He stared out the window again as if seeing another time, another place. “An old woman came through the courtyard selling flowers and herbal concoctions. I bought two bottles of love potion. Giving one to Patti, I challenged her to drink it. I said it would make her mine forever. She told me to be careful, that it might make me forget the politically correct marriage and bind our hearts for all eternity instead.”
Kerry nodded. Patti had evidently believed in the power of love and potions and portent, which came as no surprise to Kerry.
“I asked her to give me that one night if that was all we were to have. She didn’t answer, but she stayed. About thirty minutes later, she said she felt ill. That’s when she went in search of the restroom and ended up in the patio suite by mistake.” He glanced at her, then away. “You know the rest.”
“You left her for dead because you couldn’t face the scandal of being with Patti when you were supposed to be engaged to another woman?”
“It could have jeopardized my family’s position.”
Kerry exhaled slowly, carefully. The air around her seemed fragile, as if it might shatter if she moved too quickly or spoke too harshly.
“I don’t know about your fiancée,” she said, “but Patti was one of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. I’m not talking about her outward beauty, but the warmth and kindness she showed to me, a stranger, on my first day in New Orleans.” She recalled Atta’s words. “She had a good soul, so why wasn’t she good enough for your family?”
“She had no money, no social standing and no political influence.”
The words came so readily to his lips that Kerry was sure he was quoting from his father’s many lectures on the subject. Gazing into his dark eyes, she felt a return of the pity and nodded.
Jason stood. “I thought I could have it all—love and marriage and approval. Funny thing, but they all came from different people when they should have come from one. I finally realized that only with Patti could I have had it all. By then it was too
late.”
Kerry walked to the lobby door with him. They stood there as if facing an abyss that divided two worlds.
Behind them was the austere elegance of the hotel. It seemed to represent a time long ago, a time of grandeur, like the life Patti’s family had lived at Cordon Rouge.
In front of them was the busy life on the street, the modern world, a little commercial and crass, but also lively and rich with possibility.
Jason had a choice—step back into his family’s world and lose himself…or step forward into the bustling street and find a new life.
“I wish you well on your journey,” she told him. “Wherever it may lead.”
He surprised her by kissing both her cheeks. “Thank you for caring about Patti. I think you were the only person in her life who didn’t fail her.” A muscle tightened in his jaw.
“I was only in her life for one day,” she reminded him.
He drew a deep breath as he gazed out the door. “I want to ask you something else. Where…”
After a minute of silence, Kerry intuitively grasped the question he couldn’t finish. “Matt and I scattered her ashes at Cordon Rouge, in the formal garden there.”
He nodded and left her, striding quickly along the street. She watched until he became lost in the crowd.
“Above all, I wish you peace,” she whispered. She glanced at the tiny thundercloud charm she was holding. “And healing for your soul.”
Then she quickly crossed the lobby and courtyard, heading for the one person she needed beyond all others at this moment.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KERRY GLANCED AROUND the room. “That’s everything,” she said. She snapped the locks on the large piece of luggage, which would be checked at the airlines, and scanned the smaller case with her toiletries.
The bathroom and bedroom were empty of her things and had resumed a rather impersonal air. The concierge had shipped her gift basket home for her, so that was taken care of. She’d wanted it for sentimental purposes—a reminder of the champagne she’d sipped while relaxing in the tub, candles all around her, hearing a noise from next door, meeting Matt during the witching hours of that strange night…Twelfth Night.
