BREAKING CURSED BONDS

by Elisabeth Zguta

  A waitress approached the table with the next round of drinks and Emilie pulled herself from her daydream. A moment later, she sensed a change in the room. She looked up and noticed the man was gone, and felt a loss.

  Her disappointment didn’t last long. Michelle grabbed her hand and pulled Emilie to her feet. She led her through the room, which had started filling with people. Michelle smiled, saying hello to everyone they bumped into, pausing at every table they passed. She played the crowd and Emilie absorbed her sister’s good humor as it chased away all the negativity of the day.

  Emilie let her guard down as the crowd got larger and the room filled with laughter. At a table toward the back, a young couple sat swaying to the music and Emilie caught their eye. The woman nodded to her.

  “Dreamy music, isn’t it?” she said, half shouting to be heard over the noise.

  Emilie rarely spoke with strangers at home. Here, she was liberated, freer than she had in a long time. It was nice to see young love blossoming.

  “It is,” she replied. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

  “We always do,” the man said, as he placed his hand over his girlfriend’s. “We’re getting married soon and came back here where we met, in this very spot, one year ago.”

  “Isn’t he romantic?” the young woman said.

  “Congratulations,” Emilie replied.

  The room grew louder as Emilie moved away from the couple, warmed by their affection. She was nearly across the room before she felt another change, a sudden chill, and a jolt of fear as someone tugged on her shoulder from behind. She spilled some of her drink as she turned.

  “What is it?” she demanded when she realized it was only Michelle. Then, she noticed her sister’s frown.

  “Emilie, there’s some goon watching us. I noticed him earlier following us here, but I didn’t think much of it. But now he’s creeping me out.”

  Emilie followed the line of her sister’s stare. An icy sensation ran up her back. The big shadow of the man Michelle pointed out was definitely a problem; she sensed the same danger she’d experienced with the man on the trolley earlier that day. He stared right at them. Emilie turned her face away.

  “He’s probably just security,” she said.

  “Or a stalker,” Michelle replied.

  Emilie turned her sister around so her back was to him too, and whispered close to her ear. “Okay, let’s pretend we didn’t see him. Just act normal.”

  “Us normal?” Michelle laughed in the middle of a sip and choked. ”Em, my drink came out my nose.”

  Emilie smiled and handed her sister a napkin from a table nearby. Michelle wiped her face, giggling.

  “You know what I mean,” Emilie said. “Let’s head to the ladies room, acting casual. When we’re out of sight, we can sneak out the back. Okay?”

  Michelle shook her head and smiled. They both turned around and danced in the crowded room. When the song finished, they walked away. The man watched them. His stare burned into her back. Pretending not to notice him, they strolled toward the ladies restroom. Once through the doorway, they ran to the window that happened to face the back alley. They tried to pull up the sash. It was stuck.

  “Pull it harder,” Michelle said.

  “I am pulling hard.” Emilie tugged with all her strength. Finally, the old window jerked free from the swollen sill, making a nasty screeching sound as it scraped against the layers of paint on its way up the jamb. Two other women in the restroom turned their heads to see what was going on.

  “What the hell are you doing?” one of the women said.

  “Oh, don’t mind us,” Michelle said, “We’re just getting fresh air.”

  Michelle bent her head near the open window and inhaled a deep breath. The two women turned and left. Emilie laughed hard, holding her belly, suddenly more daring than she’d ever been before. Putting her leg over the window ledge, she yanked her body out. She fell sideways and landed on her ass in the alley, banging against some crates and making a racket. “Ouch.”

  “Shit, Em, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Ow. Don’t worry, I’m okay,” Emilie laughed.

  “Good thing you’re drunk, otherwise that might have felt as bad as it sounded,” Michelle said.

  “My butt is just a bit sore.”

  Michelle climbed out the window next. They looked at each other and burst into more laughter.

  “Shush!” Emilie held her fingers to her mouth; Michelle stifled her giggles.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here. I know another great place,” Michelle whispered loudly.

  Emilie held onto her sister’s arm as they stumbled down the alley together. They found a place to haunt, still hiding from the big shadow man. The night went on and Emilie soon forgot about the stalking stranger, and the gorgeous man that had stood in the corner. They bar hopped most of the night, the bands in full swing. The jazz melodies swept Emilie into a carefree world, sorrowful but beautiful at the same time. She fed off the emotional highs that her sister radiated, and everything else slipped away. Sometime after midnight, they took a taxi back to the hotel and called it a night.

  Emilie crawled into the queen bed with her clothes on. The room was quiet. Relaxed by the booze, she embraced the freedom, liberated from the negativity in her head. She wished she could follow her sister around more often. Maybe I should start drinking as a habit. The tradeoff, a spinning room, was well worth it.

  Michelle stirred. “Emilie, are you awake?”

  “Yeah. How are you awake, Michelle?”

  “I keep thinking of that man who followed us.”

  “Big shadow man?”

  “Yeah. Do you think Robert had us followed?”

  Surprised by an unexpected shot of fear, Emilie opened her eyes, now wide awake. She wondered why her sister was afraid, and of what. The nagging suspicion that Michelle knew something echoed in the back of her mind.

  ”Why would you think that, Michelle? Besides, Shadow Man was a creep, just one of those ogling types. He wasn’t following us, after all.”

  Once again, Emilie remembered the evil feeling she’d gotten from the man on the trolley earlier in the day in the Garden District. Could someone be following us, though?

  “What does Robert have to do with things?” Emilie asked.

  Michelle turned onto her side to face Emilie from the other queen bed. “He did tell you not to go to the Boniverre’s place, right? Maybe he was having us followed to be sure we didn’t. Maybe Robert is hiding something from us.”

  “Well, there is something wrong with him, that’s for sure, but I can’t think of why he’d have us followed. It’s no big deal that we went to Miss Boniverre’s and asked a few questions. I mean, what’s it to him? Besides, would he hire a dumbass so easy to get away from?”

  Michelle laughed, but then got quiet. “Robert has so many secrets.”

  Emilie thought about that for a moment. “You know, I feel bad things around him. Hateful emotions, or some kind of deep resentments, and I have no idea why.”

  “There you go again. Please, Emilie, stop talking about ESP stuff. You promised.”

  The covers rustled again as Michelle turned away. Emilie closed her eyes and tried not to feel hurt. She wished Michelle accepted her for her true self. If she could turn this gift off, she would for her sister’s sake if not her own. They were both quiet until sleep found them.

  The next day, the sisters went shopping on Royal Street in the French Quarter. Michelle bought some antique jewelry at M.S. Rau Antiques, more than her fair share of bling for herself, and a gift to take back for Aunt Victoria. Then they devoured an omelet at the Court of Two Sisters restaurant, and relished the spring blooms in the warm late morning sun. Happy being with her sister, the tranquil setting eased Emilie and she wished it could last forever.

  “This has been a great weekend together,” she said.

  Michelle twisted her wrist, admiring her new antique bracelet. It reflected the sun’s rays a
nd bounced small rainbows onto the white tablecloth.

  “Let’s do this more often. I miss you so much, and I worry about you, too. You spend too much time alone in that big house, and Father and Robert aren’t exactly good company.”

  “Michelle, I miss you too, and I am happy for you. I get jealous that you see so much of Aunt Victoria, I wish I knew her better. But if I were to leave, who would be here for Father?”

  “Father! Be there for him? You’re crazy. He doesn’t give a damn about any of us, Em. I mean, I know he loves us, but caring is not part of his makeup. All these years since Mother died, he barely sees us. We went up north and he just forgot about Robert and me. He is nothing but self-serving, Em. You would understand if you had left, too.”

  “You don’t understand,” Emilie said, gulping back her frustration. “It’s more like self-preservation, not apathy toward you. Father loves us all, and he keeps tabs on you, Michelle, he always has. I know he’s hard on Robert, but maybe he needs it.”

  Emilie watched her reaction, and noticed a glint in her sister’s eyes when she mentioned their brother. She could tell Michelle knew more about Robert than she let on.

  “Michelle, what was it you wanted to say to me about Robert?”

  “Oh, that. It was nothing. I just let my imagination run wild, besides you’re right. Why would he have us followed? That goon was just another creep in the crowd.”

  There was more she wasn’t saying; an ice cube would have been warmer than the feeling Emilie got from her sister. She let it go, and decided to wait until Michelle found the right time to share.

  From there, the mini vacation ended abruptly. Michelle took a direct flight back to Boston, leaving Emilie on her own once more. As soon as she was gone, Emilie called Father Eddie. He picked up right away.

  “Miss Emilie, I have been waiting for your call. Let’s meet in the lobby in half an hour.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emilie saw Father Eddie sitting in the lobby. A big man who seemed to fill the room, he could have been the brother of Pavarotti. His clerical collar was an indicator of his true benevolent self. Emilie walked up to him and gave him a friendly hug.

  “Hello, Father Eddie.”

  “Miss Emilie, thank you for meeting me. We have an adventure ahead of us today,” he said.

  “What exactly are we about to do?” Emilie asked.

  Eddie smiled, but she noticed his hands clasped in angst. “Pierre came to me about this presumed curse,” he said. “I get a sense that he’s in trouble and he needs something that will protect him.”

  “Like what, a gun?” she said.

  “No. No, more like a blessing.”

  He led the way out of the hotel lobby and to his rental car, parked in front. Emilie noticed a valet attendant standing nearby and gave him a tip as Father Eddie got into the driver’s seat. The valet helped Emilie in and closed the door.

  “I think a visit to my old congregation might help,” Father Eddie said. “I know some folks down here who still use the old practices of curses and spells. Even though I always denounce such superstitious beliefs, they still use Voodoo anyway. I thought someone might help us.”

  Emilie turned and looked at Father Eddie, surprised by his intentions. It almost seemed like a betrayal, giving in to any belief other than Catholicism. A streak of guilt colored her words. “So if you denounce the practice, then why are we pursuing it? I don’t mind telling you, the thought of Voodoo sends shivers up my spine. I’m not so sure about this idea of yours,” she said.

  He drove off, heading toward his old parish. “Don’t worry, Emilie. I don’t claim to understand these beliefs, but these blessings seem to work. And who knows, maybe they can give us something to cancel the curse. You know I’d do anything for your father. He’s been a good friend over the years.”

  Emilie surrendered, deciding not to second-guess the priest. Her parents had always trusted him, so she did too. She watched out the window as they passed other sections of New Orleans that weren’t so well off.

  “I haven’t been here in a while, I am ashamed to say, and I miss the Sunday picnics of my old church. I used to enjoy cooking the recipes we conjured up, my mouth waters at the thought.”

  He gave a slight laugh, and a side glance at Emilie. She smiled back, but still felt uneasy.

  “Are you ready for some home Creole cooking? Maybe they have a few bites left from today’s bounty.”

  Emilie nodded. What was she was getting herself into? He pulled the car into the parking lot, and rolled into a spot. Some of the people approached to greet him as he labored getting out of the car, pushing his large frame out of the little compact. Combing back his dark hair with his fingers, he smiled to everyone as they gathered around him.

  “Father, you haven’t forgotten us. We are so happy to see you,” an old man said.

  Emilie watched, amazed. Everyone appeared to love Father Eddie. He had a formidable presence, but his sensitive demeanor and calming words drew people to him. He introduced everyone to Emilie, but with so many new faces she couldn’t keep their names straight. They walked to the church’s backyard together like sloths, sweating in the humid late afternoon air. Pecan and oak trees surrounded the perimeter, too far off to offer shade. They reached a tented area where more people awaited them, and Father Eddie once again introduced Emilie.

  Most of the congregation was older, and seemed to appreciate his kind recognition. Emilie found a chair and sat down, preferring not to open herself up to so many people and emotions. She made a conscious effort to shield herself.

  Some of the old men led Eddie to the cooking pit to inspect the big kettles that held seafood gumbos and steamed vegetables. Eddie raised the lids and released the heated seasonings of the Cajun cooking. The steam from the pots blended with the afternoon humidity, the air heavy with the spiced aroma of pepper and garlic.

  “My mouth is watering,” Father Eddie said.

  He closed the lid that held the flavors in, and took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, patting himself with a nervous hand. The men milled around Eddie, filling him in on the latest parish news.

  A tremor of regret stirred Emilie; she remembered what Miss Boniverre had said and chastised herself for not doing more for these people. This was a poor neighborhood. Many were still trying to recover from the devastating hurricanes the region had experienced in recent years. They spoke about new construction going on in other neighborhoods, and the houses still in need of repair in their tiny corner of the world. The hot topic shared with Eddie was who had the best prices on salvaged lumber. Most of the gossip led to stories of families leaving for a new start. Emilie eavesdropped as Father Eddie asked about certain people.

  “I will keep them in my prayers,” Emilie heard Eddie say.

  Eventually, Father Eddie took a break from his socializing and sat down next to Emilie. She felt heat pouring from his body. He handed her a plate of food, and the two ate in silence. A lone old man walked over. Dressed in his best Sunday clothes, he took off his hat and twirled it in his hands. Eddie looked up.

  “Hello, sir,” Eddie said. “Do I know you? Sorry, but I don’t recall your name.”

  “Reverend Eddie, you don’t know me none. There is someone else who wants to be seeing you, but she can’t be here at the picnic today, so I come for her. She’s asking for you to stop by, before you leave town. Come after this get together. If you want to help your friend, you will make the visit,” the man said.

  Paranoia gripped Emilie. How does anyone know about Eddie’s intentions to help my father? The old man shook Eddie’s hand.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “No, thank you, sir.”

  The old man walked away. Eddie opened his hand to reveal a small scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it.

  “Who was that man?” Emilie said.

  “I don’t know, but this address is to one of the Voodoo followers’ home. Eat up, we need to leave.”

  Eddie looked anxious a
s he finished his food. Emilie wondered how a priest could be so open to this road they were following.

  They finished the meal and Father Eddie said his goodbyes to his old friends, leaving the picnic early with excuses of a long drive home. When they were back in the car, Emilie buckled up, anxious to get the next part over with quickly.

  “Can I see the note?” she asked.

  He pulled the scratched message from his pocket and gave it to her, then started the car. Emilie’s curiosity peaked as she touched the piece of paper with the scribbled address in blue ink.

  During the drive, they passed empty lots, then a cluster of small shotgun shanties littering the neighborhood, some lived in, others abandoned. Very few were new or refurbished. They arrived at a very old section of St Bernard Parish, and Father Eddie parked the car. While Emilie was still lost in her thoughts, he got out and walked across the street, intent on the faded street sign. Emilie got out and followed him.

  “Do you know this place?” she asked.

  “Yes, these back streets, let’s say I am aware of the mistrust in this area, and I don’t blame them. So many people were just forgotten after Katrina.”

  They walked past a group of houses. Some young men hung out on the stoops, talking in their own thick, local drawl. Their conversation was filled with half-spoken words pronounced with a musical inflection, and Emilie could understand little of what they said. She looked back over her shoulder, suddenly anxious, but no one followed. Despite that, she still felt edgy.

  “I really don’t like the idea of asking for help from Voodoo worshipers,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, Emilie,” Eddie said. He patted her hand. “It’s dangerous here, but the people won’t bother us, they have respect for the collar I wear. Most of the people in this area either believe in, or have a healthy respect for, Catholicism and Voodoo. For many, the two intertwine.”

  “Just what exactly are we here for?”

  “We’re here to help your father. No matter what happens, keep an open mind and be brave. We may just be able to save your father’s life, Emilie. Here we are.”