BREAKING CURSED BONDS

by Elisabeth Zguta

  Emilie was tripping over her words, ecstatic with hope. Mr. Labue covered his heart with crossed hands and looked up to the sky.

  "Miss Emilie, I am not afraid for me. I have received the good Lord in my heart. I’m a Christian with a clean and happy soul. Jesus is my Savior. Amen."

  His eyes turned down to Emilie. "It's you I'm worried about. Now don't go telling your sad song to everyone down there in New Orleans. You be careful, you promise me, girl." He shook his finger at her.

  "I promise." Emilie smiled back.

  They embraced for a moment. Her spirit lifted at the strength and purity emanating from the old man.

  "Thank you, Mr. Labue."

  Satisfied with her progress so far, Emilie continued her search. A trip to New Orleans to visit the Boniverre family was in order. She turned the ignition key and the engine ramped up to a hum, and idled. Squinting through the windshield, she evaluated the steel sky. Eerie shadows of trees cast across the road like long dark fingers, illuminated by the slivers of light coming from the lamppost outside the house.

  She pulled the car away, taking her time going down this country road, one wrong turn could send her off course and into the swampy ditch that ran alongside. Once she found her way back to the highway, however, her relief only lasted for a moment. From nowhere, a blinding downpour pelted the road.

  Her insides jittered at the sudden change. Her pulse raced and she squeezed the steering wheel. The sheets of rain roared louder than the engine as they battered the car's roof. Emilie turned on the wipers and slowed to a crawl. The rain had nowhere to go and flooded the pavement in front of the car. The water churned up into the wheel wells, causing the car to pull back, echoing a swooshing sound from beneath the wheels. A warning of possible tornado activity interrupted the music on the radio.

  "Great, a storm and I'm here in the middle of nowhere!" she said aloud.

  The stress of the day and now the sudden storm took their toll on her nerves. She just wanted to get back to the house. Agitated, wary of hitting a tree or getting sucked up in a wind funnel, she used the streaks of lightning to guide her way along the road as the car crept forward into a black hole. There was nothing but darkness ahead.

  The wind shoved the small car, pushing it sideways as it thrust against the door. A disquieting mood permeated the space around. Her nerves unraveled; vulnerable to an extrasensory episode, she felt it creep into her head.

  Chills ran down her spine. Alarmed, she tightened her entire body and held her breath. A presence was there, in the car, as if someone else was sitting right beside her. Is a spirit trying to visit, or send a message? She pulled the car to the curb, put it in park, and turned on the flashers. Seconds passed. Some unknown tragedy crowded her mind. She rubbed her forehead and tried to physically push the vision from her mind, shielding herself, not wanting to see, hear, or feel anything. The sensation consumed her.

  Is Mother trying to send me a message or premonition? No, she scolded herself, things like that don't happen.

  Lightning cracked across the dark sky, then a loud thunderous boom roared. The vibration rattled the car. Like a jumpstart to a battery, she flashed back in time. A vision from years ago, she stood alone when just a small child, warning her family about the evil forces at work around them, but no one believed her.

  The car rocked in a rapid torrent of wind. Emilie pulled herself from the groggy haze, as if waking from a bad dream. She closed herself up, shielded herself, and ignored the weirdness in the car. The ugliness would not get in; she wouldn’t allow it. With great strength of will, she pushed them into her subconscious. I will deal with them later. If only she could just erase these feelings with one swipe, and be done with it all. Emilie took deep breaths, letting the oxygen calm her, and then she put the car back into gear. She concentrated on driving home, determined to ignore these impressions, this curse of hers.

  On the drive home, Emilie remained cautious. The feeling finally receded. She told herself all she needed was rest. The car rolled up to the house, but an unfamiliar sedan parked in front blocked the entry. Wondering who was visiting so late, she turned the steering wheel and parked on the other side. She jogged to the porch, trying not to get drenched with rain or zapped by the persistent lightning. Dripping wet, she entered the foyer. The door closed behind her with a slam, aided by a gust of wind.

  Emilie bolted from the door, startled. Water dripped from her clothes as she stood for a moment and regained her bearings. She’d barely gotten her breath before darkness descended once more—that unbearable pain, terror, she’d experienced before. Father’s terror.

  She turned. The stranger stood at Father’s side, the two men frozen at the entrance to the room. Everything she’d learned, everything she felt, swept over her in an instant. She rushed toward the men, unable to hide her agitation. Father held up his hand, and Emilie stopped in her tracks.

  "Emilie, this is Mr. Pierce, the man you saw with me. Please excuse us, we have business to discuss."

  Before she could respond, both men turned and walked into the library, closing the door behind them.

  Her stomach knotted in worry, and a rush of blood made her face burn. She imagined herself bursting through the doors and demanding to know what was going on. Emilie shook her head, rain dripping down her face and neck. She walked over to the doors and stood with her hand in midair, not sure if she should knock. Instead, she turned her ear to the thick wooden door, but could only make out a few words, not enough to make sense of the conversation. She didn't dare act on her desire to disrupt them; Father abhorred impetuous behavior.

  She took a deep breath and resigned herself to the situation, then hurried to her room. There was a trip to plan.

  Determined to follow the Boniverre lead in New Orleans, and with no time to waste, she called her sister. Not being street savvy when it came to scouting out new places, Emilie didn't want to wander by herself in the unfamiliar city. Michelle loved New Orleans, though. Besides, they hadn't seen each other in a while. Emilie called and Michelle readily agreed, saying she’d been wanting some time off. The spontaneous trip gave Emilie hope.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emilie left the house for work as usual, but with much more optimism than was typical. She went straight to her office and pressed through her paperwork, anxious to clear her desk as early as possible. Her sister was due to arrive later, in time for dinner. It had been a while since they’d spent quality time together, and Emilie wanted to connect with her again. She intended on telling her about the weird things going on lately.

  Robert stuck his head in the doorway. "Time for the meeting, Emilie." He smiled. If she didn't know him better, she’d have thought it was with genuine happiness.

  "Thanks for getting me. I'll walk with you."

  She grabbed her folders and followed her brother to the conference room. This time, Robert turned on the ceiling light. The room was bright, and she heard the hum from the fluorescent fixture above. Emilie focused on the noise, hoping it would keep her from feeling the emotions of the others in the room. Many of their coworkers were high strung lately. She knew everyone was anxious to get this merger finished. Others followed them in for the meeting, and within minutes there were twelve of them seated around the table. Everyone made a point of saying good morning to Robert, and nodded their heads at Emilie.

  Someone rang her father, then dialed the call to France. They got Louis and his crew on the line and a few niceties passed around the room. Then they discussed business details, and prepared to close the meeting. They only needed Pierre to give his approval. Robert buzzed him again. A minute later, Pierre walked into the room. He appeared off balance and staggered to his seat. He sat down, slumped into the chair, and took a moment to look around the room, dazed.

  "What is this about?" he demanded.

  His voice seemed foreign, harsh but not slurred, so Emilie brushed away her silent fear of stroke. A few people in the room dared to mumble to each other. Emilie got up and approach
ed her father, whispering in his ear. "What's wrong?"

  Pierre groaned and then stood, leaning on the table. "I am fine, just leave me alone."

  He spoke a bit too loudly, uncharacteristic of him, and everyone turned their attention on them. Emilie went back to her seat, concerned and embarrassed. Then her father made his big mistake: he started speaking in French, so half the room didn't understand a word. They looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Those on the other end of the line understood perfectly, despite the fact that his pronunciation was off, something virtually unheard of for Pierre de Gourgues.

  " C'est la fin. Nous sommes tous maudits. Oubliez cette entreprise. Prenez soin de vous. Rentrez chez vous et profiter de vos proches que vous pouvez."

  This is the end, we're all cursed. Forget about this business. Take care of yourselves, go home and enjoy your loved ones while you can, Emilie translated in her head. What the hell is he doing?

  When he finished, Pierre leaned against the table as he tried to find his balance. For a moment, Emilie thought he’d fall on his face. Then, he turned toward the door and left the room, mumbling to himself. She worried her father may be having an attack of some kind, or a mental breakdown, hell, something had happened to him.

  Robert’s face was red, and he looked like his head might pop off from the pressure. Great, this is all they need in their relationship. She got up from her chair and went to her brother, whispering, "Finish the meeting and make it right. I’ll back you one hundred percent. Let me see what's wrong with father."

  Then she left the room to follow her father to his office, her brother already beginning apologies on her way out.

  "Gentlemen, I am sorry for that episode. It seems my father is not well, but we’ll finish this today. You have my support and my sister's, too."

  Emilie hurried down the hallway and caught up with her father. She touched his arm and he turned toward her. His eyes looked far away. A deep sorrow burdened her spirit with more pain than she had ever known, and tears stung her eyes. They walked together to his office, and she helped him onto the full-grain leather sofa, which was soft and molded perfectly to his form. She grabbed a pillow from the chair and put it under his head, and covered him with an afghan throw. Then, she sat on the floor next to him and rubbed his hand with hers, speaking to him with her softest voice as she stroked his hair back with her other hand.

  "Father, I know what you’re feeling, it’s making me sick. Why is this happening? What can I do to help you? Let me help you."

  He groaned and tossed his head. "Emilie, I don't want you involved in this. I don't want you to know this sorrow. Leave me if you want to help, let me know you are spared from this curse."

  His voice drifted off as he fell asleep. Emilie wiped back her tears and took a deep breath, knowing full well she’d help even if he didn't wish her to. She stood and went to the desk, where she found the doctor's number in her father’s Rolodex, a resource which contained years of his contacts’ information. She called Pierre's doctor on his private cell phone.

  "Doc Hannigan, hello, this is Emilie de Gourgues.”

  “Hello, my dear. I hope everything is all right, how are you?”

  “Yes, I’m fine thank you. I am calling about my father. He just had some kind of episode at a meeting. He was off balance, and—“

  “Tell me, had he taken some of the pills I prescribed? If so, best for him to sleep it off,” Doc said.

  “What? Yes, he’s sleeping now. He's under medication?”

  “I gave him something to help him sleep. Maybe he took them during the day. They do have a calming effect. How many are in the bottle?”

  “A sleeping aid? Let me check.”

  Emilie put the phone down and opened the top drawer of Father’s desk. She found a bottle of sleeping pills, opened it, and counted them out.

  "Doc, I count twenty pills.”

  “Good, that means he only took one. I gave him a three-week supply. Let him rest, I think he needs the sleep,” Doc said.

  “Yes, he’s resting. Please promise me you’ll check on him later today.”

  “Of course, my dear, don’t worry. It will be late afternoon, but I’ll be sure to make a point of stopping in. Will that be all right?”

  “Yes, but I’m going out of town, so please call me if anything turns up.”

  “I will call with an update. Have a safe trip.”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you, Doc Hannigan."

  She hung up the phone; confused by this new information. Emilie had never heard of anyone acting this bizarre just because they’d taken a sleeping pill. Her father had never been one to take medication, either. She would force him to discuss this when she got back, and make sure he stopped taking the pills. Maybe after the doctor saw him later today, he could prescribe something milder. Still, something felt wrong, and she had a feeling there was more to this situation. Another thing to worry about. Maybe Michelle would have some insight, or at least a fresh view on it all. Her heart went out to her father. He wasn't the most lovable figure, but she knew he loved them deep down, where it counted most.

  A bit relieved knowing the doctor would check on her father later that day, Emilie headed for her office to get those details completed, more than ready to take off for a few days. Putting the trip to New Orleans on hold was not an option. Finding out more about the curse was vital. Her brother's future, her family's future, depended on learning more, so she could eliminate the threat for good. That would be the best way to relieve her father's stress, too.

  Emilie left her father's office so he could rest, as the doctor had ordered. She went back to work.

  Emilie sat at her desk and couldn't get rid of the nagging thoughts about her father and the curse. She knew the reason her father needed sleeping pills: the stranger, Mr. Pierce. Father blamed himself for Mother's death, though his blame was unwarranted. Emilie knew he hadn't done anything wrong. The torment he felt, losing his mother and then his wife because of this strange curse . . . He teetered on an edge, close to giving up on life itself, and something had to soothe his mind before she lost him altogether. The thought gave Emilie a chill.

  Inspiration struck. She picked up the phone and called Father Eddie. He was their parish priest, and a close friend of her parents. He had counseled them all for years, and she hoped he wouldn't mind her leaning on him once more.

  "Hello, Father Eddie please. Yes, this is Emilie de Gourgues." She waited.

  "Miss Emilie, how are you dear?"

  She swallowed hard, and hoped that he’d understand her strange plea.

  "Father Eddie, my father is not well. His behavior today was erratic, he shows symptoms of depression, more than I have ever seen before. He needs our help."

  "Tell me exactly what's happening," he said.

  Emilie explained to him about her father's bizarre behavior; about the documents and curse, and how Mr. Pierce taunted her father. She hoped he didn't think she was over the edge herself. To Emilie's surprise, the priest listened. He asked a few pointed questions, murmuring in response, and she pictured him nodding in agreement.

  "Emilie, I am glad you called me. Your father did come to me in confidence, but I hadn't realized the severity of the situation. Pierre told me about your impromptu trip. Since you’re going to New Orleans to vacation with Michelle anyway, maybe you can stay a few hours longer and meet with me before you return home. I think I know someone down there, from my old church, who can help."

  Emilie blinked, trying to imagine how this could help her father. She trusted Father Eddie, so decided to go along.

  "I have no idea what you have in mind, Father, but I will be there. I will call as soon as Michelle leaves," she said.

  "You’re a good daughter. I will be in touch."

  Father Eddie hung up, and Emilie sat at her desk wondering what she had just agreed to.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Later in the afternoon, Emilie and Robert finished the paperwork for the merger. Her brother expressed his
satisfaction with the terms, and Emilie smiled with relief. She went back to her office. The phone rang as soon as she walked through the door. It was Doc Hannigan, with good news: her father only needed rest and would be fine. A weight lifted from her shoulders. She locked up her desk and files and headed home.

  Once there, she went up to her room and packed a few things. Ready to go, she strolled to the porch off her bedroom and looked out over the backyard, watching the horses grazing in the field near the pond. The pleasant sight tempted her to ride her favorite horse, Rex. Emilie remembered watching her mother ride when she was a young girl. Even now, she felt close to her mother’s spirit while riding and working in the stable. A quick glance at her watch and she realized her sister was due soon, no time to ride today. Emilie settled for a walk down to the back porch instead.

  Standing on the porch, already with a drink in his hand, Robert stared off at the cloudy southern sky. Emilie noticed him and felt a warm tenderness. She walked over to stand by his side, and looked up at him with a smile.

  "Guess what? Michelle will be here any time now. Isn't that great?"

  Robert smiled back. "Peaches."

  "Oh come on, now, we can have fun together. It will be like when we were kids. How about you join us in New Orleans for a short vacation?"

  Emilie wrapped her arm around her brother and gave him a gentle hug. He smiled again and kissed her on the top of her head.

  "Tempting for sure, but I couldn't leave right now. You see how unreliable Father is lately. After you spoke to me about the mysterious stranger, I asked him questions about the man, and he’s definitely hiding something from us."

  Emily let go of her brother and stepped back. She remembered the phone conversation she’d overheard her father’s secretary having the other day, and what Mr. Labue had said about Robert visiting him. Why is he going behind my back and not sharing information with me? Turmoil surrounded him, and she realized that as much as she loved her brother, she distrusted him.