by Angie Sandro
Then the implications of what Mrs. Prince is saying sinks in. “Oh my God! That bastard—” I swallow around the lump in my throat and spit the words out. “Rathbone knew it was only a matter of time before Mama exposed him to the police. His first attempt to get rid of her failed, so he came up with a better plan.” I shake my head. “What I don’t get is how. How did he convince two other men to help him murder someone in cold blood?”
Mrs. Prince answers my question with hardly any inflection in her voice, like she stands outside of herself. “James twisted my husband’s grief.” She squeezes her own hands together as if in prayer. “I helped too. I begged my husband to avenge our daughter. And he did. I just never thought Landry would help, but he’s such an obedient son.”
“Mom, no!” Landry yells. “I didn’t help Dad. I saved Mala!”
Mrs. Prince ignores her son the same way she ignored her daughter when Lainey begged her to take her to the hospital. She glances at Andy who started down the hallway at her words. “You’re too late. My husband’s gone.” Madness tinges her rising voice. “I protected him at the expense of my own child, yet he abandoned me.”
Lainey lets out a little cry, turning toward her brother. The energy powering her dims like a draining light bulb, making her appear less substantial—a ghostly copy of her former self, slowly fading away.
“It’s time for us to take Lainey home, Mala,” Gaston says.
He and Mama leave my side and go to Lainey. She takes their outstretched hands and smiles. “Good-bye, Mala. Thank you.”
Mama gives me a little wave and disappears.
The reality of their absence hits hard. I’m alone. “Oh God,” I wail, falling onto my backside. “Mama’s really dead.”
Images, hard and heavy, rush into my mind. Fire. Death. Mama screaming as I try to break free from the man holding me so I can help her. Stabbing the man—stabbing Landry. The knife sliding through his eye like jelly. Landry in the hospital, telling me he’d been injured in an accident. Oh God, how could I have forgotten?
“Mala, I swear. I tried to keep you safe. You’ve got to remember, please,” Landry pleads.
“No! You’re a liar. It’s your fault!” I scream at Landry. “You wouldn’t let me help her. Mama died because of you!”
I double over at the waist. My stomach clenches. I choke, pushing the words from deadened lips: “I hate you, Landry!”
Chapter 33
Mala
Closure
Today I look fairly normal. If normal wore hot pink Hello Kitty flannel pajamas. I don’t know what my boss, Ms. March, had been thinking when she picked out my clothing. She ought to have known better. Maybe she thought I’d gone completely around the bend and would actually like being dressed up like a toddler.
As embarrassed as I feel in this ensemble of bad taste, I perch on the edge of the windowsill, staring across the heat-shimmering asphalt of the hospital parking lot. I search for one vehicle in particular, a forest green Land Rover. There’s one in the parking lot. It’s him. Finally.
I hate crowds. Now, not only do I have to deal with the living, I also have to contend with the demands of the dead. Their constant chatter leaves me restless and jittery. I can’t block them out. My mama once told me that, after she died, I would sit on her grave and beg her spirit to teach me to control the horrors I saw. When Mama burned, her ashes were scattered to the four winds. And like Uncle Gaston, who’d been crisped by the Viet Cong, she roams like the free spirit she’d been in life.
I’m more likely to find her sitting on the edge of Dr. Rhys’s desk than a grave. She keeps baiting me into responding to her in front of him. Talking to invisible people convinced Dr. Rhys to shove medication down my throat and lock me up in the hospital’s psychiatric unit on a thirty-day hold for observation. For the first week, I resembled a zombie with spit drooling down my chin. Thank heavens I wasn’t allowed to receive visitors until my body adjusted to the meds.
I draw in a deep breath of air-conditioned air. The smell of burnt chili, hot dogs, urine, unwashed bodies, and a score of other scents I don’t want to break down too closely fill my nose. Ms. Anne, one of the older patients, plucks a few keys on the piano, not putting much physical effort into reproducing the music she hears playing in her mind. Her daughter sits silently beside her. Out of the fifteen people committed to the psychiatric unit, Ms. Anne and I are the only patients who have visitors.
When the door opens and George walks into the room, my heart lurches. I try to play it cool, but my feet, clad in fuzzy, zebra-striped socks, wiggle with excitement. He’s so beautiful, like a rainbow after a thunderstorm. He glows. He walks toward me with a slight bounce to his step, wearing a short-sleeved, white T-shirt with purple and gold LSU lettering and worn jeans. The smile lighting his green eyes brings heat to my cheeks. I jump off the sill but wait for him to come to me. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way—no sudden moves in the psych unit or the orderlies take you down.
“Hey, Mala,” he says, opening his arms.
I glance over my shoulder at Kevin, my favorite guard, who nods. Permission granted.
“Georgie,” I cry, throwing myself into his arms. He lifts me in the air and swings me around. “About time you came for a visit.”
“I’ve been trying to get in for three weeks. This is the first time they’ve said yes.”
I give him a peck on the cheek. “You’d better put me down now. Kevin’s getting the wrong idea about our relationship.” I nod toward the orderly. “It’s okay, we’re just friends.”
George gives me one last squeeze. “The best of friends.”
“Always,” I say, waving to the orange plastic sofa. “We can sit. How long can you stay?”
George doesn’t release my hand as we walk over to the sofa. I curl up in the corner so I can stare at him. Gosh, he looks good enough to eat. I spent a lot of time fantasizing about seeing him again. About what I’d say to explain what happened with Lainey taking over my body. She beat him up pretty good, but he thinks I did the damage. How do I apologize for something I didn’t, but also did, do?
I bite my lip, feeling guilty and confused. Silence stretches between us, and I don’t know how to break it. Finally I jump in with both feet. “Georgie, I’m sorry.”
He jerks, like he’d been lost in thought, then frowns. “About the hug?”
“No. Kicking your butt.”
“You did not kick my butt,” he protests, scowling. “You cheated. I would’ve taken you down if you hadn’t caught me by surprise.”
“Dream on, buddy,” I say with a laugh, then sober. “Seriously, I am sorry. I lost control of myself for a while. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I’d never deliberately hurt you.” All true. Every word. “You must know how much I care about you, right?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” He fidgets with the frayed cuff of his jeans. “When do you get out of here?”
I hold onto my sigh. Not the enthusiastic response I hoped to get. “I have another week. Dr. Rhys says he’s pleased with my progress. I’ve done everything they’ve asked: group, grief counseling, meds.” My face puckers at the thought of those horse pills. Bleck. “You know, I didn’t think I’d accept what happened to Mama for a long time, but it helps to talk about it.”
George leans forward, placing his hand on top of mine. “Have you remembered yet?”
“The actual attack?”
“Yeah, do you remember how much Landry participated in your mom’s murder?”
I jerk my hand free and scoot up onto the arm of the sofa so I look down into George’s wide eyes. Fear flickers in the green depths, bringing out a hint of gold. I wrap my arms around my upraised knees. “So…we get to the real reason why you’re here. To see what dirt I can give you on Landry.”
“That’s not the only—”
I wave him silent.
Kevin leaves his position by the door and moves ponderously in our direction. “Everything okay, Mala?”
“Yes,
sweetheart,” I drawl, batting my eyelashes.
“Let me know if you need me.”
“Will do, Kev,” I say, not taking my eyes off George. “My, you’ve only been here five minutes and I already want to pound your head again.”
“That’s not funny, Mala,” George says with a scowl. No trace of fear remains in his eyes. Now he looks annoyed. “Answer my question.”
“Why?”
“Landry’s preliminary hearing is in two months. The district attorney needs you to testify against him, or he’ll have to drop the case.”
“Well, I won’t! I’m not testifying to him helping to murder Mama. How many times do I have to say that Landry saved me from his father that night? I’m not crazy or suffering from amnesia anymore. I know what I remember.”
“Why did you fight him if he saved you?” George yells, rising. “You stabbed him in the eye. That’s not something you’d do without provocation.”
Kevin starts over. “Yo, man, calm down or you’ll need to bounce.”
“I’m sorry,” George says quickly, raising his hands. “Look, this is ridiculous. I didn’t come to fight.” He turns pleading eyes on me. Hellfire, whenever he looks at me with those puppy-dog eyes, I forget my reasons for being angry with him.
The air cools, and tingles spread across my arms. I grit my teeth. The air shimmers beside George, and Mama appears. I keep my gaze firmly on George. “I’m sorry too, Georgie.”
Mama crosses her arms and paces around him. “What are you apologizin’ to him for? He’s the one stirrin’ up trouble.”
I catch myself rolling my eyes.
I’ve gotten used to answering her questions by directing them at another person. “Georgie, I may hate that Landry kept me from trying to save Mama, but I won’t condemn him to the death penalty for murder. It’s bad enough he’s been in jail for three weeks on assault charges, with no proof he hurt me, I might add. Being locked up can mess with a person’s mind.” I wave my hand to encompass the room. “I know from firsthand experience how degrading it feels to be blamed for something I didn’t…didn’t mean to do.” I shake my head. “I’ll do whatever I can to help him.”
George’s lips tighten. “He did it, Mala.”
“I’ll prove he didn’t.” If I ever get out of here.
George stalks over to the window, breathing hard. I stay back, waiting for him to calm down before he loses it. I don’t want him getting kicked out. He thinks I’m being naive. But I heard the evidence against Landry from his own mouth during his police interview. The problem with having my soul ripped out of my body by Lainey is that now my spirit doesn’t want to stay cooped up. Every night, I find myself floating out of my body and wandering the town. I can go anywhere in spirit form, spy on anyone, including that District Attorney Cready who’s trying to dig up enough evidence to fry Landry. No walls can keep me out.
Landry couldn’t deny being at my house. The DNA found on the knife I used on him proved it. He said he came over to have me translate his sister’s diary. He arrived too late to save Mama, but he ran into a burning house to rescue me. I don’t know how to forgive him for not trying to help Mama and for hiding his dad’s involvement in the attack from the cops. I’ve tried.
Still, even with all the hate bottled up inside me, I’m drawn like a moth to a flame to Landry’s jail cell every night. The boy looks seriously scary. Since he’s been locked up, he spends his free time in the yard lifting weights. The intense workout has put muscles on top of muscles. With the eye patch and his long black hair, he looks like a pirate. He gives me the chills, both the good and the bad kind.
I finally can’t take the silence. “Look, George, let’s agree to disagree. I’m gonna do what I need to do to prove I’m not insane so I can get out of here. Then I’m gonna get Landry released from jail before his perv of a roomie shanks him in his sleep.”
George leans against the windowsill. “Fine, I’ll let it go. For now.” He thrusts his hand into his pockets. “I guess I wouldn’t worry so much if we could get a lead on Rathbone’s and Reverend Prince’s whereabouts. Although, if I were the rev and found out my best friend impregnated my daughter then murdered her, I’d make sure his body got fed to the gators.”
“The rev has proved he’s quite capable of taking it old school with the vengeance. Rathbone had better run long and far…” I stare at my socks, wiggling my toes. “I’m getting out soon. The rev will come after me again, won’t he?”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He didn’t answer my question.
Mrs. Prince turned catatonic after her confession. She’s locked up in an extra-secure wing of the psych unit. I’ve peeked in on her a few times. She drools. Landry and I are the only ones who can testify against Reverend Prince and Doc Rathbone. If they get rid of us…not that I think the rev would murder his own son, but Rathbone wouldn’t have a problem with it. He proved that by letting Lainey die. But me? There’s no reason why I wouldn’t be a target.
George clears his throat, and I look up. His smile sends a burst of warmth to banish the chill of worry. “Time for a happy topic—what do you plan to do after your release next week?”
Mama had flitted over to hover next to Ms. Anne. Every so often, she flicks the woman’s ear and laughs when Ms. Anne tries to hit her. Kevin thinks Ms. Anne is attacking her daughter, and he calls another guard to help shuffle her out of the room, giving me a meaningful, don’t-do-anything-wrong-while-I’m-gone look.
I roll my eyes and fold my hands primly on my lap. “Well, Georgie, I’ve been thinking of getting out of town for a while,” I say slowly, rubbing my arms. As usual, thoughts of Magnolia make me break out in a cold sweat. I’m not sure why. The only thing I know is I have to go to her. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If I don’t, something awful will happen. “I’ll head out to New Orleans. Before all this happened, I promised to work for my aunt over the summer, and I think being with her will help to clear my head.”
A gust of air bursts from George’s mouth forming a strangled “No!”
He moves so fast I barely have time to squawk. His hands fall onto my shoulders, and he yanks me against him. My hands rise between us, pressing against his chest. His heart hammers beneath my palms.
“Georgie?” I stare up at his face. “What’s wrong?”
A broad range of emotions flicker across his features, but the last one takes me by surprise. The turmoil seeps from his eyes, and they soften. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?”
My tongue runs across dry lips. “I’d say yes, but I’m not sure which time you’re referring to.”
He cups my face between his palms and tilts my head up. “I’m thinking of all the times I saw you but didn’t really see you. You’ve been right in front of me, and I kept telling myself you were a kid. I never noticed how important you’d become to me.”
Oh God, what’s happening here? My heart speeds up. I stare at his mouth, reading his lips shaping the words because I don’t think my ears are working right.
“You’ve got to stop scaring me, Mala LaCroix. I almost lost you once, and I just got you back.” He leans down until his warm breath blows in my ear as he whispers, “Don’t even think about trying to ditch me again.”
My mouth drops open. I can’t believe the words I’m hearing or what they stir up inside of me. Confusion, anticipation…Crap! “Are you real or a hallucination from the meds?”
“I’m gonna kiss you now. Okay?”
“Kiss me?” I say with a shaky laugh, then his words sink in. “Oh, wait. What?”
His lips meet mine in midprotest, and I gasp. He thrusts his tongue inside my open mouth with a groan of desperation. He trembles as his hands slide down my shoulders to wrap around my waist. The hunger in the initial kiss softens into gentle exploration. I trail my fingers up his neck and thread them into his silky hair.
The deep rumble of a clearing throat jerks us apart. Kevin’s six-foot-plus frame hovers over us. “Keep it PG, folks.”
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“Jealous?” I ask with a giddy grin.
Kevin harrumphs.
I fan my heated face. Kind of glad at the interruption. The wheel in my head spins threads of confusion, not gold. Oh boy. I kissed George.
I’m going to hell for this.
George’s kiss was nice. Very nice.
Landry’s kisses could wake the dead. But I hate him now, right? So he shouldn’t matter. Except he does. And always will. He gave me my first kiss. All others will forever be compared to his. Damn.
George squeezes my hand. He sinks into the sofa and pulls me across his lap. “Stay with me this summer. I mean, with Bessie and Maggie, but I’ll visit. We’ll take it slow and get to know each other.”
I bite my lip and meet George’s worried gaze. How would he react if I told him I see spirits? Would he believe me, like Landry did? Or run so fast that I get rug burn trying to hold onto him?
“I have to go to New Orleans, Georgie,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t have a choice. I made a promise. But mainly, I need time to figure this out, ’cause, yeah. This is totally unexpected. I mean, we’re friends. I’m scared you’re just feeling protective because I almost died.”
“I know my own feelings.” He’s wearing his gunslinger look again.
“Yeah? Well, I don’t.” I slide off his lap onto the sofa. “This probably isn’t what you want to hear, but I still care about Landry. I don’t know how we can be together. Not after what happened with Mama, but I owe it to him, and to myself, to figure it out. I’m sorry. I don’t have a better answer.”
Mama leans across the back of the sofa and taps my nose with a finger. “Yep, best bet all round if you want to control me is to learn from Magnolia. Otherwise, I’ll haunt you till the second coming.”
“I guess I can agree to take it slow,” George says. “‘Do you think Kevin would complain if we did a little more smooching? You know, like a test drive.” He smiles, and his lips meet mine.
