Blue Moon

by C. D. Ledbetter

  His lips crinkled into a lopsided smile. "You write, I'll describe. My handwriting's terrible."

  She dragged her gaze back to the pages and picked up a pen. "Let's start at the French doors and work our way around."

  She kept her distance as they worked. Justine brought in coffee and juice around ten, and after taking a mid–morning break, they decided to start again in the master bedroom. According to Justine, it was an old drawing room that had been turned into a master bedroom when Mr. Ventereux got too old to go up and down the stairs.

  Mary stepped inside and barely covered her surprise. Everything in the room was draped in black fabric, including the grandfather clock hanging on the wall. The once-elegant wallpaper was faded and peeling along the upper moldings, and a huge yellow stain on the ceiling testified to a leaky roof. She shuddered to think of the poor sick old man lying on the metal bed, staring up at the ugly stain day after day.

  Jack walked over to the grandfather clock and lifted the material. "The clock's a reproduction, and not a very good one at that. I'll bet they stopped it when he died, to mark the time of death."

  "How sad," she murmured, glancing around. "Justine told me they had trouble keeping up the place after Mr. Ventereux became ill. Evidently he was sick for quite a while."

  She moved to a dusty bombe commode in the corner and ran a finger along the chipped marquetry. It was definitely 18th Century French, but hadn't been taken care of. When she bent to examine the gilt-bronze mounts, she saw that one of the legs had been broken off and haphazardly glued back on. Despite its age and one–time beauty, the piece wouldn't bring much in such condition. Sighing, she turned back to Jack, clipboard ready, as he began an organized circuit of the room.

  They spent the remainder of the morning working; both were surprised when Markham announced lunch. Jack looked at his watch and whistled. "Can you believe we've only been at this for four hours? It's amazing how much we've done."

  She'd been thinking the very same thing. "I've never had an inventory go this fast. I know we didn't skip anything because we switched places and verified each room. At this rate, we'll be through tomorrow."

  "Well, it helps to have a list, but you're really good. You didn't ask me once to slow down. Most people tell me I talk too fast, so I have to repeat everything."

  "Maybe we have the right chemistry to work well together." A vivid image of them entwined in a lover's embrace flashed through her mind. Startled, she dropped her clipboard and leaned over to pick it up. This was ridiculous. She needed to keep her mind focused on work not erotic daydreams. She shook her head to clear the images and focused on the pages in her lap. From now on, she'd keep her attention glued to the pages. It was safer that way.

  When she came downstairs after washing up, Josephine, Sadie, and Markham weren't anywhere to be found. The dining table had been set for two instead of five. She watched in amusement as Jack sat across from her, wolfing down his meal.

  He caught her glance and grinned sheepishly. "Why don't we work on the upstairs as soon as we finish eating? If we concentrate, we can probably finish by seven or eight. I saw Sadie on my walk this morning; she told me there's a Voodoo ceremony tonight. She invited us both. How 'bout it?"

  Mary shook her head. More than likely, the staff was probably staging the ceremony in an effort to frighten her and Jack into leaving. Well, they were wasting their time and effort. "No, I don't think so. Thanks."

  "You aren't afraid, are you?"

  She pursed her lips, raised one eyebrow, and favored him with what she hoped was a sarcastic stare. "No, I'm not afraid."

  "Then why don't you come?" he asked. "From what I understand, it's a simple ceremony to celebrate the full moon. Justine said it's called the Blue Moon ceremony."

  God, would she never hear the end of this stupid Blue Moon? She stabbed her meat defiantly with her fork. "All right, I'll go," she said finally. "But only to show you I'm not afraid of any mumbo jumbo Voodoo stuff. Satisfied?"

  His mouth fell open. "You don't have to be so touchy."

  Immediately contrite, she put down her knife and fork and stared at him a few moments while she collected her thoughts.

  "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be churlish. I appreciate the invitation, and if we get our work done, I'll be glad to go."

  His face relaxed. "Good. As soon as you're finished eating, we'll get started on the upper floors." He crammed the last of his roll into his mouth, pushed his chair back, and stood up.

  Mary masked her irritation. Why couldn't he eat a little slower? It wasn't as if they were in some kind of race to see who could finish their meal first. She glanced down at her plate and sighed, realizing her appetite was gone. They might as well get back to work. She laid down her napkin. "I'm finished."

  Jack arched his eyebrows. "You still have a lot of food on your plate." When she shook her head, he nodded. "Okay then, let's start with the front bedroom."

  His long legs carried him swiftly up the steep flight of stairs. He paused at the landing, silently observing her as she followed behind. Her head was bowed, causing sunlight to glisten off the golden highlights in her red hair. She really was a beautiful woman. How he wanted to hold her close and promise her he'd always protect her from harm. It wasn't merely physical attraction--although he had to admit she was beautiful enough to arouse any warm-blooded male--there was something else, but he wasn't sure what.

  Warning bells went off in his brain, cautioning him that the situation was getting out of hand. His lips formed a wry smile. As if his life wasn't already complicated enough. Now he had a burning sexual attraction to contend with. What was next?

  He tore his glance away from the stairs and stepped into the nearest bedroom. By the time she entered, he'd already focused on the work at hand. She cleared her throat to let him know she'd arrived. His lips curved into a slow smile. Never had he been so aware of a woman. It was as if she sent off radar signals that only he could intercept. To make matters worse, his awareness intensified with every moment they spent together. He wondered if she felt the same, but wasn't about to ask, considering what happened the last time they'd worked together. Some things were best left unsaid, at least for now. He forced his thoughts back to work. "Ready?" he called without looking up.

  "Yes. I'm ready whenever you are."

  "Good, let's get started. I'll begin with the left side of the room." He rattled off a detailed description of the worn out four-drawer oak dresser, then proceeded to describe the rusty iron bed frame. Any awkwardness disappeared as they slipped back into a work routine, staying focused on the objects being inventoried.

  Several hours later he discovered a small metal box in the bottom of one of the closets. Though the lid was rusted shut, he managed to pry it open. Inside lay two shiny black feathers. He picked them up and held them in the palm of his hand.

  "What strange items to keep," Mary said as she stroked one of the feathers. She held it up to the light. The room faded away as the past once more burst to the forefront of her thoughts. She saw a black woman, dressed in a cape made of the black, shiny feathers, holding out her hand to a man and woman. Startled, Mary released the feather and grabbed Jack's outstretched fingers.

  "What's happening?" she whispered in a frightened voice.

  He shook his head and backed up a few inches. "You tell me. Are you having some kind of seizure? This is the second time today you've stiffened up and stared at blank walls for three or four minutes. You don't have epilepsy or anything like that, do you?"

  She shook her head. "No, I can assure you I'm not having a seizure." She stumbled to the bed and sank onto the mattress. "To be honest, I'm not sure what I'm having. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I was having an ESP episode, but, since I've never had one before, I can't be sure."

  His mouth fell open in surprise. "ESP? You don't really believe in that stuff, do you?"

  She shook her head. "Well, until I came to this house I didn't. Now, I'm not so sure." She narrowed her eyes and stu
died him for a few moments. Would he think she was nuts if she told him what she'd been seeing?

  He rubbed the side of his face. "What did you see when you held the feathers?"

  She decided it was probably better to keep her "visions" to herself. "Nothing. My imagination was probably working overtime, that's all." She stood up and picked up her clipboard. "I'm ready to get started again. What do you want to cover next?"

  He narrowed his eyes and began his description of the oak chairs in the corner of the room. The rest of the day passed in a blur of inventory sheets. When they finished the last room, Mary tilted her head back to relax her neck and shook her hand to uncramp tense fingers. "I don't think I can write another word. I haven't written this fast in years."

  Jack's gaze lingered on her slender neck. Was her skin really as soft as it looked? He realized the path his thoughts were taking, averted his gaze, and stared down at his watch. "I can't believe we're almost done. There must be something to the old saying that time flies when you're having fun."

  "Please, no clichés," she groaned as she clapped her hands over her ears.

  He laughed. "Tell you what. No more clichés if you tell me something about yourself."

  Green eyes peered at him over the clipboard. "What do you want to know?"

  His grin widened. "The usual stuff. Are you married? Do you have any kids? What you want to do with your life when your grow up."

  The room grew quiet. "I'll tell you, but only if you do the same." She paused for a moment, watching him. "Are you still married, Jack?"

  He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Yes, I am," he replied in a gruff voice. He paused for a few moments, considering whether or not to tell her about Audrey's illness, and decided to let her know he might have to leave on a moment's notice. "Audrey--er, my wife--has been pretty sick, and if she has to go back into the hospital, I'll have to leave immediately." He stared at her puzzled expression. "I wasn't scheduled to do this job, but the other curator had an accident, and they needed somebody to fill in for him."

  "I see." She studied his grim expression and reached out to touch his arm. "I'm sorry to hear about your wife being sick, Jack. Look, if you need to leave now, that's okay. We're just about done. I can handle things from here."

  He shook his head. "Thanks, but that's not necessary." Clearing his throat, he turned and walked toward the door. "Let's go downstairs and wait for dinner. It's cold up here without a fireplace."

  She followed his lead, realizing he didn't want to discuss his wife's illness. At the top of the stairs she paused. "I've got the strongest feeling about this stairway. I think we've missed something."

  He knelt down and ran his hand along the outer edge of the wood. "Funny, I've been drawn to this spot several times. I've looked, but can't find anything."

  She trailed her fingers along the banister as she descended, grabbing the top rail for support as another scene flashed through her mind. This time a tall man dressed in formal clothes stood on the bottom step. A worried frown etched his face as he called out to someone above.

  A hand on her arm snapped the link. She blinked her eyes and realized she'd descended to the last step. Jack stood next to her, his hand supporting her right elbow.

  "Are you all right, Mary? Your face is as white as a sheet."

  She ran her tongue across dry lips and nodded. Though she wanted to tell him about the man, Markham appeared in the doorway of the dining room and announced dinner.

  Sadie and Justine were already seated. Mary apologized for being late, and announced that they'd finished the second floor.

  "Good," Sadie said. "Eat your dinner. Ceremony's waiting."

  Jack shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth. "What can you tell us about it? Is it supposed to do something? What's going to happen?"

  Sadie frowned and shook her head.

  "How many people will be there?"

  Sadie sighed and narrowed her eyes. "You awful nosey, boy. Thirty people gonna come to the ceremony. Ain't enough potion for more."

  His hand paused half way to his mouth and his eyes widened in surprise. "Potion? You didn't say anything about that." He shook his head. "Sorry, I think I'll pass on that one."

  Justine's laughter echoed around the room. "You don't have to worry about the potion--it's nothing but hooch and a few wild herbs. Everybody who attends drinks out of the cup." She turned to Mary. "That includes you, child. If you go, you'll have to take a turn. Otherwise, you won't be allowed to stay."

  Mary shook her head. "In that case I'll stay home."

  Sadie scowled at her. "What you 'fraid of? Think we're gonna poison you? Don't you want to know how come you know all them things?"

  Surprised, Mary was silent. How did Sadie know about her visions?

  Jack turned to Mary. "Well, if the potion is only moonshine, then that's okay, I guess. Come on, Mary. Go with me. I've never been to a Voodoo ceremony before. Don't you want to see what it's all about?" Jack pleaded.

  "It's only a few hours, that's all," Justine said.

  Mary wavered, tempted but leery. Better to have all these strange things explained--against her better judgment, she said she'd go. She was surprised when Justine announced she wasn't planning to go with them. Why the sudden change of mind? That was odd, especially since Justine had been so adamant about her and Jack attending the ceremony. Maybe Justine knew the whole thing was being staged in an effort to frighten them and was having an attack of conscience. Shivers raced down Mary's spine as she wondered just what was in store for them at this ceremony.

  As soon they finished eating, it was time to leave. Sadie motioned for them to follow her lead. She held a lantern in one hand as she led them deep into a grove of cypress trees, following some sort of narrow path that constantly twisted and turned. Her sparse hair poked out from under a black shawl and her shoulders drooped as she leaned on a gnarled walking stick.

  Mary made sure the old black woman remained within arm's length as they followed the bobbing light she carried. Her legs ached from walking, but she knew she wouldn't be able to find her way back if they became separated.

  Twigs snapped behind her and Jack cursed as low branches grabbed at him. A smile curved her lips as she realized this wasn't turning out to be the "walk in the park" he'd expected it to be. Served him right for talking her into going.

  Sadie eventually stopped in the middle of a small clearing and murmured they'd arrived. Darkness swallowed the trio as the old woman smothered the wick of her lantern. Mary reached for Jack's hand; the pressure of his fingers chased away some of her nervousness.

  "Quiet," Sadie whispered. "Others come soon."

  They waited in silence. Circles of light flickered in the distance and grew larger as the participants drew nearer. Mary counted twenty-five lanterns. When the men and women emerged from a path near the swamp, she immediately regretted her decision to come.

  The men came first, their faces painted in geometric symbols and twisting lines that glowed eerily in light of their lanterns. Despite the biting cold, they wore white short-sleeve shirts and torn pants that only reached their knees. From the gaps in the strange designs, Mary could tell that some men were black, some were white. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she started nervously as the glow of the lantern reflected off the eerie designs painted down the front of their legs and across the tops of their bare feet.

  Next came the women, dressed in tattered skirts and low-cut blouses that revealed their cleavages. Only their eyes were unpainted, forming huge black holes in a sea of luminescent faces. They gathered behind the men and waited.

  Sadie pushed past Jack, threw off her black shawl, and walked forward. The men split into two groups as she walked past, then closed the gap behind her. Mary waited anxiously beside Jack for Sadie to return. Her eyes followed the movements of the men as they gathered pieces of wood and started a bonfire in the center of the group.

  Some ten or fifteen minutes later, when Sadie reappeared, it was as if she'd been transfo
rmed. Gone was the old crone who stooped as she walked. In her place stood the Voodoo high priestess, fearless and strong. Interlocking designs of white paint glistened on her face and neck, and a large snake coiled around her left arm. A black and red feathered cape hung from her shoulders, and a headband laced with colorful plumes circled her hair. One hand held a carved wooden staff, the other a grinning human skull.

  Mary couldn't take her eyes off Sadie. Dear God, what had she and Jack stumbled into? The heat from the flames intensified; droplets of sweat rolled down her face, stinging her eyes. Too afraid to move, she remained still. She could hear murmuring, but not enough to understand what was being said. Were they arguing about her and Jack? The voices ceased when Sadie beckoned them forward.

  "You can stay. Don't say 'nuthin, only watch." She waved her staff and one of the men produced a wooden bucket. She dipped a tin cup inside, then pressed it to Mary's lips. "Drink. It will illuminate your soul."

  And poison my body, Mary thought as she took a sip. Her mouth burned as drops of dark fluid trickled down her throat. Their bitter taste lingered in her mouth. A thought occurred to her and she nearly gagged. Didn't they sacrifice chickens at these ceremonies? Surely she hadn't drunk chicken blood! Her supper worked its way up from her stomach; she forced it back down. What had Sadie mentioned at dinner: whiskey and herbs? Yeah, that was it. The little she'd had didn't taste like whiskey, but maybe it was homemade. She glanced at Jack, who, after lifting the cup to his mouth, coughed several times in an effort to keep from choking. Well, if she died from poison, at least she wouldn't go alone.

  One of the men walked through the circle and stopped in front of them. "Sit," he commanded. They sank to the cold, wet grass. Behind him, the flames of the bonfire flickered and a wave of voices rose. Somewhere in the darkness, the sound of drums added an eerie, rhythmic beat to the chanting.