Mary expelled the breath she'd been holding. At least he'd gotten off to a good start with her aunt. Maybe the success of the restoration job would keep Elizavon in a better temperament than usual. Jack and her aunt were like oil and water--they just didn't mix. If she was lucky, he'd remember not to rise to any of the old woman's barbs and they could co-exist for a couple of days without killing each other. He'd better, because she had more than enough to keep her occupied without having to referee a war of words between her husband and her aunt.
She opened the trunk and removed Elizavon's bags, taking care not to snag them on any sharp edges. The caramel-colored leather gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine, and she marveled at the soft feel of the handles beneath her fingers. Well, Elizavon had been right about one thing. She sure knew how to pick a good leather suitcase.
3
The tap, tap, tap of Sadie's ebony cane as it made contact with the cement sidewalk broke the stillness of the early morning.
"Watch out for the cracks," Justine cautioned as she locked the door behind her. "If you wait a minute I'll help you to the car, but first I have to carry our bags out so the driver can put them in the trunk."
A gnarled, misshapen hand waved through the air. "I can make it," Sadie called out in a raspy voice as she continued her peculiar shuffle toward the waiting taxi.
Justine checked the deadbolt one last time, grabbed a suitcase with each hand, and hurried to the curb. As she passed her elderly friend, she called out, "Are you sure you have everything?"
"I brung everything I need," Sadie said, clutching her tattered black shawl closer to her non-existent bosom. "I done told you that three times. Don't ask me again."
Justine watched as the frail, gray-headed black woman adjusted the lumpy gray sack she carried under one arm, then started forward. Poor Sadie. A wheelchair would have made her life so much easier, but she was too stubborn to admit the need for one.
The taxi door groaned and creaked as it closed. "Well, that's everything. I guess we're ready to leave," she said.
"Sorry about the door," the driver said. "I keep meaning to grease the hinges, but I always forget. Where to, ladies?"
Sadie's eyes narrowed to two black slits. "Bus station."
Justine tapped him on the shoulder. "Could you please take us to the station as quickly as possible? Our bus leaves in forty-five minutes, and we don't want to miss it. If we do, we'll have to wait four hours for the next one."
He nodded and the taxi shot forward.
Justine watched his eyes dart to the rear view mirror, then slide away. Her polite smile turned into a disapproving scowl when she realized he was making a comparison. So what if she was white and Sadie black? What difference did that make--not that it was any of his business. She sighed, wishing for the thousandth time that Sadie would've at least let her iron the rumpled skirt and shirt she wore. Stained and ripped in several places, her clothes looked like she'd wrestled a dog for them and lost. She glanced down at her own immaculate travelling suit and smoothed away an imaginary wrinkle. Well, the driver could stare all he wanted. It wasn't any of his business and she wasn't about to offer any explanations.
When they reached the station, he carried their luggage to the check-in counter. "Well, ladies, looks like you made in just in time." He gestured to a bus some fifty feet away. "That's your ride over there. Unless I'm mistaken, they're starting to load the baggage."
Justine breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for getting us here on time. How much do I owe you?"
"Ten dollars even." His fat, hairy fingers tapped her arm. "I'm sorry, but I gotta ask why on earth an attractive woman like you is travelling with that awful old hag," he whispered, pointing at Sadie. "She looks like she just got out of a dumpster," he commented in a disgusted voice. He glanced at the small gray sack Sadie still clutched in one hand. "I don't know what she's got in that bag, but it smells like something crawled up in there and died." His lips parted to reveal gapped, yellow-brown teeth. "You want me to grab that and throw it in the trash?"
Justine favored the man with an ice-cold stare and shook her hand free. "I'll have you know, sir, that that woman happens to be my closest friend, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't make rude comments about her."
His mouth fell open as she stuck a ten-dollar bill into his hand and turned away. He didn't say anything else, but she could feel his eyes boring a hole in the center of her back. When they were allowed to board the bus, she made sure they selected seats on the aisle away from the ticket counter.
The bus creaked and groaned as they pulled onto the freeway. Echoes of dismay rippled among the passengers when the driver's rough shifting nearly jarred them out of their seats. Justine prayed that he'd find a steady speed before she threw up from the constant shaking. She tried to find a more comfortable position, then gave up. It was a toss-up between broken springs poking her in the hip or the bulge in the back of her seat causing a cramp across one shoulder. She chose the cramp and forced herself to relax.
When the bus ceased its spasmodic lurches, she sneaked a glance at her companion. Sadie sat motionless, eyes shut. Unwilling to disturb her friend, she leaned back and closed her eyes. This was a trip she'd been both anxious and afraid to make. After fifteen long months, they were going back to St. Francisville.
She wondered who'd bought the old plantation they'd lived in for so long, and if it had been torn down or restored. Maybe she and Sadie would have time to drive by and see what had happened to their old home. Tears glistened in her eyes and she wiped them away. The small house her son had purchased for her didn't seem like home and probably never would. It was as if she'd left a big part of herself behind at the plantation, having lived there for so long as Mr. Ventereux's housekeeper. She longed to walk through the house, to feel its comforting presence, if only for one last time.
Her heart skipped a beat when cold fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist.
"Don't you fret none, Justine. You gonna be all right. I done seen it," Sadie announced, patting her hand. "I done seen the signs."
More disturbed than ever, Justine wondered, not for the first time, if going back was such a good idea after all. Sadie had been restless for several weeks, and had begun to have 'visions' once more. That, more than anything, had prompted their trip. Usually Sadie shared bits and pieces of her visions, but this time all she would say was that she needed to go back home to St. Francisville.
Twenty minutes after they arrived, Justine unlocked the door to their hotel room and motioned for the porter to bring in their bags. Sadie perched on the edge of the bed nearest the window, withdrew the gray sack from under her arm, and positioned it in the palm of her outstretched hand. Cocking her head to one side, she swayed back and forth.
Justine's concern increased with every minute that passed. Was Sadie having another vision?
Sadie jerked upright, eyes wide-open, mouth ajar. Violent spasms racked her body, then all motion stopped. She blinked a few times, stood up, and turned to Justine. "I'm ready," she announced. "I gotta get to the graveyard soon, afore something bad happens. Spirits done summoned me." She started for the door. "I'm going now."
Justine glanced out the window. "It'll be dark soon. Can't this wait until morning? Aren't you tired after that long ride?"
"Can't wait none, Justine. I gotta get to the graveyard today," Sadie demanded, slapping her hand against the dresser. In defiance of Justine's suggestion, she jutted her chin forward and reached for the doorknob.
Justine knew better than to argue with the old woman when she was in this kind of a mood. If she didn't go with her, Sadie was apt to go by herself and get into God knows what kind of trouble. She might as well give in and get it over with. She arranged for a taxi to meet them downstairs. When the cab rolled to a halt in front of the cemetery's wrought-iron gates, she asked the driver to please wait for their return and tucked a twenty-dollar bill into his hand to ensure that he stayed put.
"You aren't gonna be long, are
you?" he asked, fingering the money. "It's gonna get dark soon, and I don't want to be nowhere around here after dark."
She shook her head. "This won't take long. Please, wait for us."
He studied her face for a few moments, then glanced at his watch. "Tell you what. It's six thirty now; I'll wait until seven. If you ain't back by then, I'll honk my horn a couple a times, and wait a few more minutes. If you don't come out right away, I'm gonna leave."
"We'll be back before then," she promised.
Sadie had already disappeared and she hurried to find her. Together the two elderly women made their way through the weeds and brambles to the older section of the graveyard. Sadie paused in front of a row of cracked, paint-smeared gravesites. Whispering, she opened the gray sack she'd brought with her and emptied the contents onto the narrow ledge of the aboveground tomb. The sound of her chants filled the air as she stretched her arms upwards and swayed to her own rhythm for several minutes, then collapsed to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.
Justine watched and waited in silence until her friend finally stood up. The vision was over, but Sadie'd seen it. No doubt about that. In silence, they started back. She was curious about Sadie's vision, but knew better than invoke the voodoo priestess' wrath by asking questions.
Sadie said nothing as they entered their hotel room. While Justine unpacked, she hobbled over to the window and stared into the dark night.
Justine could stand the silence no longer. "Well," she prompted. "What did you see?"
Sadie's dark face paled and her hands shook. "Death," she announced in a hoarse whisper. "I seen my death."
4
Mary closed the telephone book and threw down her pencil. "Well, that's the end of that." She raised her glance toward Jack, who was busy skimming through names in another directory. "Had any luck?"
"No, sorry. Neither Sadie nor Justine are listed."
"Damn." She stared at the tall racks of books that surrounded the narrow table in the center of the library. "What do you think about doing a search of courthouse records to see if anybody with the same last name is listed as a property owner? Justine said her son was building a house for them. Maybe he put it in his name, instead of hers. If we come up with the same last name, we can send a letter and asking that it be forwarded to Justine or Sadie. Or, we can try the electric and water companies. Maybe they have an account there. They have to have electricity and running water."
"I hate to burst your bubble, sweetie, but have you considered the fact that Justine's son might not have the same last name? And, if that's the case, he might have all the accounts in his name, including the utilities and the deed to the house."
"Well, if nothing else, I can always call the banks here to see if either of them had a checking account, or as a last resort, I can call the local Social Security office and see what I can glean from them." Her smile faded and she reached to squeeze Jack's fingers in hers. "Jack, I've got to find them and invite them to come back to the plantation. I don't know why, and I can't explain it other than my gut feeling tells me I'm going to need Sadie's help."
He pushed his chair away from the table, wincing at the scraping noise. "If it's that important to you, then we'll keep looking until we find them. It's not like they fell off the face of the earth."
She smiled and followed him to the parking lot. He was right. It was just a matter of time before they located the two elderly women. She paused to check her watch, then tapped his shoulder. "I told Aunt Elizavon we'd be back at the plantation around two, which means we have enough time to do one more quick search, then head back. Would you mind checking the courthouse database while I check the banks? If they had an account, they must have provided a forwarding address. Maybe I can get the bank to forward a letter. They'd never give me the address without a court order, but since they both lived at the plantation for so long, maybe the bank manager will help me out. It's worth a shot."
She glanced at her watch one last time. "It's eleven-thirty now. I should be done in about half an hour. Why don't I come back to the courthouse when I'm finished and we can go to lunch then? It shouldn't take you very long to go through the records."
Jack nodded. He'd do just about anything to keep from spending any more time with Mary's aunt. Elizavon was a mean, spiteful old maid whose sole purpose in life was to make trouble for everyone she came in contact with. If it hadn't been for Mary, he'd have told that old witch off in a heartbeat, but he'd promised to be civil. Every hour he spent with Elizavon made that vow more difficult to keep.
"Sounds good to me. I'll see you in a little while." A smile formed on his lips as he watched his wife make her way down the block, stopping now and then to exchange greetings with local vendors. One thing he'd learned about Mary early on was that once she made up her mind to do something, there was no stopping her. She was like a steam locomotive, rolling over any and all obstacles in her path. That was one of the things he loved about her. Still smiling, he pushed open the courthouse door and stepped inside.
The courthouse database was easy to navigate and he soon became engrossed in his task. When someone tapped on his shoulder, he almost swallowed the pencil clamped between his teeth.
Mary stood behind him, a large grin pasted across her face.
"I wish you'd stop doing that."
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," she apologized. "How you doing?"
"I hope you had more luck. I've checked the database for Houma and every surrounding parish for the past six years. No one with Justine's last name is listed as a property owner. How'd you do?"
"Terrible. They didn't have an account and the bank manager refused to talk to me about either one of them. Evidently they just came in every month to cash their Social Security checks." She sighed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."
"We'll find them sooner or later, Mary. It's just a matter of time. Besides, if all else fails, we can always put an ad in the local papers asking for one of them to call you collect."
"Jack, that's a wonderful idea. You're terrific! No wonder I love you so much," she said, giving him a kiss.
He hugged her neck, then released her. "Now, how about that lunch? I'm starving."
5
"Sadie, you can't be serious," Justine said. "You've never been able to see the details of anybody's death before. Why now? Surely you've made a mistake."
Sadie's eyes stood out like two round, black orbs floating in a sea of pale brown wrinkles. "I know what I seen, but it don't make sense."
"Maybe that's a good sign. If what you saw doesn't make sense, maybe that means there's something you or I can do to change the outcome. After all, the future isn't written in stone; there's always a chance that something we can do or say will make a difference."
"Nothing's gonna change what I seen," Sadie argued. "We got to find Mary. We just got to."
"Well, there's nothing we can do tonight. It's too late. Why don't I run a bath to help you relax? I'll order dinner while you're soaking in the tub. We'll eat in the room and have an early night." She stifled a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired."
"Ain't nothing gonna make me feel better. I seen what I seen and nothing's gonna change that," Sadie grumbled as she rummaged through her tattered suitcase for a nightgown. "We gotta find Mary."
"We'll start looking for her tomorrow," Justine promised from the bathroom doorway. "Your tub's ready; you better hurry up before the water gets cold."
"If you get out of my way, I will."
As her friend hobbled past and closed the door, Justine's knees started to shake and she collapsed onto the edge of Sadie's bed. What on earth had Sadie seen at the graveyard that upset her so much? In all the years she'd known the old Voodoo priestess, Sadie'd never been so distraught--not even when her husband died. This behavior was totally out of character.
The sound of splashing water reminded her of bathroom hazards. "Are you okay in there?"
"I ain't gonna die tonight, so stop bothering me."
Justine's lips twitched. Sadie might have been caught off guard by what she'd seen, but it hadn't taken long for her to get back to her old self. The feisty old black woman still had a lot of gumption left. Her smile faded as she thought about Sadie's disturbing revelation. Well, if anybody could change the future, Sadie would be the one to do it.
The sound of a suitcase crashing to the floor awakened Justine from a sound sleep.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. Ain't you ever gonna get up?" Sadie complained. "We gotta get busy and find Mary. Time's getting short."
She struggled to an upright position. "You're something else, do you know that?" she grumbled, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Coal black eyes narrowed to two dark slits. "You don't gotta come, you know," Sadie pouted. "I ain't no child. I can get on fine by myself."
Now she'd done it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you," she apologized. "Just give me a few minutes for a quick shower and we'll go."
"Humph. Hurry up, 'cause I ain't waiting all day for you."
Thirty minutes later they left the hotel in search of a coffee shop for breakfast. When they reached the corner, Sadie placed a gnarled hand on Justine's arm. "We gotta go that way, to the bank."
"Why? We don't have any business there," Justine argued. "The coffee shop will take traveler's checks. We don't need to stop at the bank."
Sadie jerked her arm away and moved toward a narrow space between two parked cars. "I'm going to the bank."
Now what? Rather than argue in public, Justine shepherded her back onto the sidewalk. "Fine. If you have to go, at least use the crosswalk," she pleaded. "It's safer."
Sadie grinned and allowed her friend to lead the way. "Don't you worry none," she whispered. "I done seen what we got to do in my dream. You gonna be fine, don't worry."
The tomb-like silence of the bank provided a stark contrast to the noisy street. Justine waited at the counter while her friend hobbled over to the bank manager's desk.
Breaking the Chain Page 2
