“What kind of ritual?
“There are many, but for you, a spiritual cleansing or healing ritual would be necessary to unblock your energy if you have had a catastrophic life event. Perhaps a death in your family? When your positive energy is released, it will be possible to have a psychic connection with the one who has passed.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
Marguerite continued, “Miss April, there is something we can do now if you like. Would you be open to a Tarot reading? I can perform a three-card interpretation for you—one card each for your past, present, and future.”
I hesitated, then nodded yes.
“Shall I begin?” she asked.
Again I hesitated, but nodded yes.
Marguerite rose to get her Tarot cards. She handed the deck to me and said, “Shuffle until you feel the energy is right.”
Not sure what energy I was supposed to feel, I shuffled several times and handed the cards back to her. The building shuddered as the storm’s violence intensified; the lights winked out. In the shadows of the flickering candles, Marguerite appeared more sinister than sincere. Totally creeped out, but fixated all the same, I held my breath while the high priestess split the cards into three separate piles.
Turning the top card from the first stack face up, she tapped it once with a well-manicured finger. In a deep, somber voice she said, “DEATH. This card represents your past.”
The Death card! Oh my God! This can’t be good.
“For you, my child, DEATH signifies an uninvited change in your life, your fear of the unknown . . . Shall I go on?” she asked.
Unable to speak, I nodded a yes.
Turning the top card from the second stack over, she tapped it with her polished nail and said, “NINE OF SWORDS. This card represents your present. It is the card of anxiety and sorrow. You despair, yet you seek comfort and spiritual healing.”
I was stunned. The first two cards were disturbingly accurate about everything happening in my life.
“Last one?” she asked.
“Yes,” I squeaked. I needed to know what the future card held for me. Marguerite took the top card from the third stack and turned it face up. She tapped one last time.
“JUDGMENT. This last card suggests you will soon make reckless decisions. A trial by fire awaits, to unshackle you from your fears. In the end, you shall be freed.”
“What does that mean, trial by fire? I don’t understand.”
“My dear child, it is a metaphor. You have faced and will continue to face challenges. You will continue to be tested. Ultimately, you will be released and restored.”
My mind raced to process what Marguerite had said. My voice trembled when I asked the high priestess, “Do I need to be . . . do I need to be spiritually cleansed?”
“That is for you to decide, my child.”
Chapter Nineteen
Confused, scared, unable to make any decision, I composed myself as best I could and changed the subject.
“I, uh, I have another question for you. In the bag of Voodoo things you gave me, there was a note from you that said if I wanted to delve deeper, I should come to you. What did you mean?”
“Miss April, when you came to my shop that evening, I felt an energy from you, a connection of sorts. Have you dabbled in Voodoo before?”
“No! The only thing I ever knew about Voodoo came from hokey old movies I watched with my dad on popcorn nights . . . My great, great, great, great grandmother did, though. She more than dabbled. She was a queen.”
Marguerite fell silent. “Who was your maw-maw? There is only one real queen, you know.”
I gazed deep into her pale gold eyes. “Marie Laveau.”
She smiled. “Ah, yes. Marie Laveau was not a Voodoo queen, she was the Voodoo Queen. She set the standard for all who have followed. There has been no other like her.”
Marguerite stood, removed a book from a shelf by the door, and thumbed through the pages until she found what she was searching for. She looked at me, looked at a page, then back at me. She pointed at the picture. “You see, there is a resemblance, it’s in the eyes. You have her eyes. I now understand the energy I felt from you. It is why you fainted that night in the shop. You were connecting psychically with her Loa. My shop is not just a tourist attraction or trap, as some call it. This is a place of worship and spiritual guidance for true believers.”
“Whoa. Let’s get one thing straight. I am not a believer!”
“You say you do not believe and yet, you are here. Fate has directed you to me, Miss April.”
Overwhelmed by tiredness, I lay back on the pillows and closed my eyes.
“Me? Directed? No. I have no direction. I’m lost, alone. I have been ever since . . . since my dad died . . . I never got to say goodbye to him.”
“My child, it is time for you to say goodbye. You and I, we shall raise his spirit together. We shall connect with his Loa. We shall cleanse you, unblock you. After which, both of you shall be at peace.”
“Peace. That’s good. I need peace,” I mumbled. I was feeling odd, not quite with it any longer. “You know what else, Madame? I have new cousins. They’re black, like me,” I whispered.
My head was spinning. No, it was the room that was spinning. What’s happening to me? I can’t think straight. What was in that tea? Did she drug me? Sweat dripped from every pore, soaked my dress. Utterly unaware of my surroundings, I was in a deep, dark place, a place from which I might never return. In the recesses of my mind I heard voices, angry voices coming from far, far away. I didn’t want them to wake me, I wanted to sleep, to be left alone. Everyone go away! Leave me in peace!
A large, warm hand gently shook me. “April, wake up. It’s me, Miles.”
“Miles? You smell nice. What time is it? What are you doing here? Where am I?”
“Why, Miss April, I am here to rescue you once more. How many times is that now? Too many to count! This time I brought the big guns with me.”
I sat up, peeked around Miles. Uh-oh. I looked down at my dress, scanned the room, and remembered where I was.
“Did she hurt you? Did she give you drugs?” asked Detective Baptiste, very much in protective detective mode now.
“What? Who? Marguerite? No, she didn’t drug me. She took me in out of the storm, gave me dry clothes and some hot tea. Chamomile. I fell asleep. End of story.”
I shook my head, tried to break the cobwebs loose. I tried to stand up, but was wobbly and fell back against the pillows. Miles offered both hands in support. Grateful for the assist, I held them both, finally got up.
“This is definitely not the end of the story, young lady! Disappearing into the night in the middle of a tropical storm? Not bothering to call? Since I couldn’t reach you, I assume the ringer was off on your phone again, after I specifically told you to keep it turned on. And how on earth did you end up asleep in this Voodoo shop? This is so not the end of this, young lady. I’m responsible for you, remember? You are so grounded. Grounded for life. Or, at least for the length of your life with me!” railed Kate.
Wide awake now, I stiffened, wrapped my arms tightly around myself and said, “Fine. Whatever. I won’t be here much longer anyway. Remember, trust fund at eighteen? I can do whatever I want.”
“Oh, no,” retorted Kate. “That money is for college. If you don’t use it for school, the funds revert to me. I told you, your grandfather was very controlling and not a nice person.”
Detective Baptiste whispered to Miles, “Are they always like this?”
“Seems so,” he replied.
“Okay, everyone, let’s wrap it up here, get April back home,” said Detective Baptiste. He turned to Marguerite, “Madame, I advise you to stay away from April.”
Marguerite handed me my neatly folded, still damp clothes and turned to face the detective. “Officer, you have no cause for concern. I mean her no harm. Miss April is a . . . troubled young lady, n’est-ce pas? Who am I to turn her away if she seeks my couns
el?”
“Look, lady, I don’t know what game you’re working here, but you’d better stay away from my niece! I’m warning you!” said Kate, thrusting a fist in Marguerite’s direction.
Marguerite turned her pale gold eyes on Kate. “Was that a threat, Auntie? Officer, you heard that. You are my witness.” She waved her hand dismissively, “Leave, all of you! Miss April needs her rest.”
“Thank you for helping me, Marguerite. You have been very kind,” I said.
Kate dragged me out of the shop and pushed me towards the detective’s unmarked car. She bundled me into the back seat and slid in beside me. In front, Miles buckled up, his dad turned off the police car’s flashing lights and pulled away from the curb.
Trying to break the tension, Detective Baptiste asked, “Beignets, anyone?”
“Perhaps another time,” growled Kate.
Miles glanced in the rearview mirror, watched me lean against the window, as far away from Kate as I could get. I knew he had questions, but they would have to wait. A few minutes later, the police car rolled to a stop behind Miles’s Jeep. Miles and Detective Baptiste got out and offered to get Kate and me safely inside.
“No thank you. I’ve got it from here.” She shook Detective Baptiste’s hand and gave Miles a big hug. “Thank you, both. Sorry to drag you out in the storm tonight, to make you a part of this.”
I looked at Miles and his father, “Sorry for causing so much trouble for you both.”
“All’s well that ends well. But you really need to stay away from that woman,” said Detective Baptiste.
“Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”
“April, let’s go in. We’ve all had enough for one night.”
I turned back, gave Miles a little finger wave and a brief smile, and mouthed Text me. He winked and gave me a half smile before taking off in his Jeep.
Kate and I trudged up to our respective rooms, both completely spent from the evening. When I spread out my damp clothes to dry, I found that Marguerite had secreted another scented note. I broke the wax seal, opened the envelope and read the invitation and directions to a spiritual cleansing ceremony the following evening.
Please come and bring your cousin. I shall meet you both at the dock at 7PM. From there, I will take us to the ceremony.
À bientôt, Marguerite
I was stunned. My cousin? I guess she means Angel? Oh my God! I have a cousin and an aunt, or would Simone be a cousin, too? Wow, just a few days ago, I had no family. How many more of us are there?
I couldn’t handle any more tonight. I’d think about all this stuff tomorrow. I slipped out of my dress and into my bed and slept the sleep of the dead.
Chapter Twenty
The aroma of something divine baking in the kitchen wafted up the stairs. Nothing would be divine once I came downstairs for breakfast. Kate was extremely irritated with me—in her mind, rightfully so, but I disagreed. On the one hand, she did come to my rescue last night. But, on the other hand, she didn’t trust me or I wouldn’t be grounded for life. I picked up Marguerite’s dress, folded it, and tucked it away in the armoire with the rest of the Voodoo gifts, thinking I should get it dry cleaned before returning it.
In order to avoid going downstairs as long as possible, I took my time deciding what to wear for the day, tidied my bedroom, and had a long, cool shower. With nothing left to do, I crept down the staircase. An explosion of baked goods filled the kitchen. Muffins, cookies, cakes, and fresh bread covered almost every available inch of counter and table space.
“Having a party?”
“I bake when I’m angry,” she snapped.
“You must be pretty angry,” I said, a nervous little laugh escaping.
“Ya think?” Kate whipped around to face me. “You know, April, my life was just fine until a few days ago when you blew into it like a tornado. I had order. I had structure. I had peace and quiet. I don’t have any of that now. You’ve disrupted my entire life. Honestly, I’m not sure I want your chaos in my life. So, here’s the deal, you are going to take today and figure out how you can make this work for us.”
Shaken by the vitriol, I quietly took a seat at the table.
“You need to find a job. The newspaper is on the counter by the toaster. I already circled some potential opportunities, all of which are walking distance from here. It’s time you take responsibility for your own life and your own actions. I’ll be here to help you along the way, as long as you cooperate. I could be a good friend if you let me. You need to give one hundred percent to make this work, otherwise, when you turn eighteen, you’re on your own. Understood?”
I didn’t answer right away. I studied Kate; her clothes were covered with a light dusting of flour, her hair was uncombed, dark circles under her eyes gave them a sunken appearance. She looked exhausted and exasperated.
“I’ll give it some thought and get back to you.”
“Really? You’re going to get back to me?” roared Kate.
Since I didn’t have any place else to live, it was probably in my best interest to not piss her off any further. “That didn’t come out right. All I meant was, I’ll think about what I need to do . . . What are you going to do with all of those goodies?”
“My friend is coming over to pick me up for an early lunch. We’ll drop everything off at the homeless shelter before my shift.”
“Would you please leave a few things for me?”
“Help yourself.”
I got up from the table, selected my share of goodies, set the platter down on my grandmother’s sideboard, and looked at Kate.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about last night?”
“Would you tell me the truth if I did?”
I hesitated, “I don’t know.”
“Well, when you do know, we’ll talk about it. If you can’t be honest with me, don’t waste my time.” Turning her back on me, Kate slammed her fist into a bowl of dough and began kneading another loaf of bread.
I poured a glass of juice, selected a pastry, and started to leave the kitchen.
Kate crossed the room, gestured at the newspaper, “Don’t forget this. You have an assignment, remember?”
I slipped the newspaper under my arm and left the kitchen without another word. Upstairs, I checked my phone. Miles had texted R U OK? I didn’t know, so I didn’t answer. I put everything down on the small table and dropped into my comfy armchair, but found no comfort. I finished the pastry, washing it down with the last of the juice, and picked up the newspaper. The headlines warned of another tropical storm ramping up, with landfall expected by nightfall or early morning. More rain meant more humidity, if that were even possible. It was relentless! How do people live here? This place makes Alabama seem downright comfortable.
Angry, I threw the newspaper across the room. Now what? I hated to admit it, but Kate was right. I had brought constant chaos into her world. There was little or no chaos in my world before Dad died and now there’s nothing but. I wondered how much more could I take.
Marguerite might be right. Perhaps I did need a spiritual cleansing. Should I go to the spiritual cleansing ceremony tonight? If there is even a remote possibility of contacting my father, I absolutely must go. I need to say “goodbye” to my dad. I need to find peace. This ceremony is my only hope.
I had to focus. If I were to go to the ceremony tonight, how would I get there? Marguerite said she would meet us at the dock. How am I supposed to make that happen? I can’t rent a car. I can’t ask Miles to take me. That’s never going to happen. If by some miracle I could get a car, should I go get Angel? Marguerite said to bring her, but it might not be a good thing for Angel. But, then again, what could it hurt? I could use some company, even if she is younger than me. Should I tell her about us possibly being related? If so, what and how much should I tell her? I should probably tell her everything. But, then again, maybe not. I put my head in my hands—I was making myself crazy.
Damn you, Dad, how could you leave me like this?
Was there any conceivable way for me to get to that ceremony tonight? My mind was scrambling to work out a plan when I heard footsteps coming up the sidewalk. I hurried to the window and drew the delicate lace aside. Kate’s friend was here to pick her up; they wouldn’t be here long. I had my plan. If her spare car key was hanging in the butler’s pantry, I could just borrow the Mini, go get Angel, go get “spiritually cleansed,” and be back before Kate got home from work. It was a simple, straightforward plan, almost elegant. And it could work. Should I text Miles and tell him, so at least somebody knows my plan? Better not. He’ll just get mad. He’ll try to talk me out of it. Or worse, he’ll tell his dad, who would call Kate. What a disaster that would be.
I booted up my laptop and MapQuested the route to Angel’s house. I retrieved Marguerite’s note, reread the directions to the dock, and calculated a timeline. Thirty minutes to Angel’s house, maybe another thirty minutes to talk to her about our family. Maybe we’ll take Gumbo for a walk so we can speak privately. That should work. It will take at least an hour to get to the dock. If I leave here around 4:30, I will have plenty of time. A cleansing ceremony can’t take very long, right? I’ll be back well before Kate gets home. If I fill up the car with gas on the way back, she’ll never even know I was gone. Perfect! Just perfect!
What does one wear to a spiritual cleansing ceremony? Should I wear the dress that Marguerite gave me? Maybe a turban? After all, I do have quite the ancestry for this sort of thing. Nah, I think I’ll go as is, shorts, tee shirt, and sandals. It’s too hot for anything else.
I passed the time by surfing the Net. No current events were particularly exciting and nothing held my interest. I decided to look up spiritual cleansing ceremony, but found nothing that gave any indication as to what I should expect this evening. I did, however, learn how many New Age, tree-hugging bloggers were out there leading the spiritual cleansing charge. Marguerite was not one of those people. She was definitely a woman of mystery. Harmless? Dangerous? I supposed the answer depended on who was offering an opinion. To date, she had been kind to me and interested. That’s all I cared about.
Color Blind Page 9
