Blue Moon

by C. D. Ledbetter

  "You'd better check your flights," he warned. "There's supposed to be a big snow storm coming in."

  "Thanks. See you Monday." Glancing at her watch, she noted with dismay that she still had five hours before her flight left. She decided to head for the airport anyway, to make sure she checked in for her flight well ahead of its departure. Christmas Eve was a terrible day to be traveling; all flights were either full or, worse, overbooked.

  As she drove toward the airport, she noticed an exit for the Parish Courthouse. On impulse, she took the exit and followed the signs. Even though it was Christmas Eve, the records department might still be open, at least for a couple more hours. This might be her only chance to learn something about Jean-Pierre and Magdalene. Surely the courthouse records would yield some information.

  She was disappointed when she found the building. Instead of graceful columns and a long, sloping veranda, it was shiny and new, with reflective glass windows and a yellow brick exterior. She'd expected something more in line with the beautiful plantation homes in the area. This courthouse had probably been built when the parish couldn't afford the restoration costs for the old one. A regrettable problem with a lot of old buildings. It was cheaper to tear them down and build new ones than to restore them. Progress, she thought sadly.

  A sign taped to the front doors indicated that the building would close at three o'clock on Christmas Eve. Mary checked her watch; she still had two hours. Once she found the records department, a friendly clerk explained how the reference books were set up.

  The sheer volume of dusty, leather-bound books was daunting. For the period she needed, five or six rooms were filled floor-to-ceiling with records. Mary quickly found out she had to go through dozens of books to get a minimum of information. This task would take a week, minimum.

  To make matters worse, most of the information was in French. Even though she'd taken two years of French in college, she only managed to translate a few words on the plastic-covered pages. The clerk told her it was "Cajun" French and explained the dialect was spoken throughout Louisiana.

  Mary decided to copy as many pages as she could before the building closed and worry about the translation later. Intrigued about her research, the clerk volunteered to make copies while she went through volume after volume of records.

  When the overhead speaker announced the building would close in ten minutes, she thanked the clerk for her assistance, paid her copy fees, and tucked the precious stack of papers into her briefcase. Her efforts hadn't been as fruitful as she'd hoped, but at least she'd accomplished something. She'd taken the first step on a journey to discover something about Jean-Pierre and Magdalene Laroussard.

  Some twenty minutes later she arrived at the airport. The anxious knot in the pit of her stomach went away when she realized that even though it was Christmas Eve, the airport wasn't crowded. As she watched the travelers hurrying to catch their flights, her thoughts wandered back to the plantation.

  How much would the Martines ask for it? She knew from experience that house and property would probably be split up and sold off in sections. That's what usually happened with large estates. Very few people could afford to buy such a large house and extensive surrounding property, not at today's inflated real estate prices. The poor condition of the house would certainly bring down the asking price. And, its distance from the main road would also be a factor.

  That's when it dawned on her that she wanted to buy the plantation. Stunned by that revelation, she needed several minutes to recover her wits. Had she lost her mind? Aside from the fact the house needed major repairs, she'd had nothing but grief ever since she set foot on the property. What on earth was wrong with her? Was she a glutton for punishment?

  Coming up with at least ten reasons why she shouldn't buy the plantation, she tried to convince herself that buying the house was totally insane and illogical--but that didn't change her mind. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that she wasn't going to buy it, something inside her told her she would. She had to.

  Once the house was properly restored, it really would be the perfect setting for a bed and breakfast inn. It had the right kind of history and atmosphere to make it a popular retreat for overworked businessmen and women.

  She realized she'd have to find a couple of backers to go in with her because she couldn't swing the deal by herself. However, if she used the plantation as a home, she could sell her condominium in Boston, and add the extra money to her down payment.

  As she made a mental list of possible backers, she couldn't help but wonder why she wanted the house so badly. Had the idea been her own, or planted by someone else? Perhaps--someone from the past?

  Chapter 9

  A soft knock on the study door interrupted Jack's concentration. "What is it?" he growled.

  Audrey hovered in the doorway, an anxious look on her face. "Jack, dinner's ready. Are you coming?" she asked.

  "Be right there. I just need to turn off my computer."

  She walked over and perched on the edge of his desk. When he didn't look up, she placed her hand over his. "Jack, what's wrong?"

  "Nothing, why?"

  She shook her head. "You can't fool me, Jack. I'm one of the few people who can tell when you're lying. Something's been bothering you ever since you got back from Louisiana. You've been moody and distant. What's going on?"

  Guilt consumed him. Had he been that distracted? He covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry, chickee. I've been working on some evaluations and things are going slow," he lied.

  She walked over to a nearby chair and sat down. "Nice try, Jack. But it won't work. I'm not leaving this room until you tell me what's bothering you. I mean it."

  He ran a hand through his hair. Damn, he'd forgotten how well she knew him. How much should he tell her? Certainly not about his feelings for Mary--that would crush her. But...maybe he could tell her that Mary saw something she thought was from the past.

  She reached out and tapped his arm. "Earth to Jack. Is anybody in there? I'm waiting for an answer. Don't forget--I can tell when you're lying, so don't stand there wasting time, trying to think up a good story," she teased.

  His lips curled into a grin at her favorite ploy to make him smile. He suddenly decided to tell her about the Voodoo ceremony and what Mary saw in the flames. Maybe it would give her something to think about. She'd certainly looked into enough different religions since she got sick. How many had there been? Buddhist, Jewish, Catholic, Protestant, Baptist, Lutheran, and some he'd never even heard of. Their apartment had been a revolving cycle of clergy members for months on end, and some of those people were still visiting. Unfortunately, none of them had given her the answers she sought. He wondered if she'd ever find peace.

  To make matters worse, once she found out she was sick, she'd suddenly developed an intense fixation on both future and past life experiences. Maybe that was why he doubted the reality of what Mary thought she saw. He'd carted Audrey to God knows how many shrinks, therapists, and psychoanalysts, in order to help her "get in touch with her past lives" as she called it. So far, nothing had panned out--thank goodness.

  He hated giving her false hope by telling her about Mary's visions of the past, but she deserved some explanation about why he'd been moody and distant. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll tell you about what happened when I went to the plantation. I wasn't sure how you would react, so I've been trying to decide whether or not to say anything."

  Audrey leaned forward, frail hands folded. "What happened when you were there, Jack? Did you meet another woman? Is that it? Is that what you don't want to tell me?"

  He held out a restraining hand. "Calm down, chickee. What I'm going to tell you is about something that happened in the past, okay?"

  Curiosity turned to anger as she listened to his words. He'd found somebody else and was ashamed to tell her about it. How could he? When...when she was so sick? Tears formed in her eyes and silently rolled down her cheeks.

  A
terrible feeling of guilt engulfed Jack, gnawing at the pit of his stomach like a knife. He squeezed her hands, wiped her tears, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Audrey, stop jumping to conclusions. I'm here with you, aren't I? If I didn't care for you, do you think I would be here?"

  "Oh, Jack. I'm sorry for being so silly," she mumbled through her tears. "I do love you, Jackie boy. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here. I need you so much."

  She rose from the chair and climbed onto his lap. "Hold me, please Jack. I'm so scared. I don't want to die." Her voice wobbled, tears flowed in rivers down her face. "It's not fair," she cried. Feeble fists pounded against his chest as wave after wave of grief enveloped her, causing her frail body to shudder.

  Eventually, her sobbing stopped, and she lay still in his arms. When she spoke, her voice sounded ragged. "Jack, do you think God gives people sickness as punishment for their sins?"

  He squeezed her closer to him. "No, Audrey. I don't think God uses illness as punishment. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, that's all. I'm sure your illness isn't some kind of punishment."

  She looked up at him. "Do you think I'm a bad person, Jack?"

  He kissed to top of her head. "What kind of question is that, Audrey? Of course I don't think you're a bad person. In fact, you're one of the nicest people I've ever met."

  "Then why do I have this terrible illness? What have I done to deserve this?" she cried.

  He gathered her close and held her tightly, mingling his tears with hers. Damn it, this wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to be like this.

  When the spasms of grief passed, he handed her a tissue. After she'd dried her eyes and blew her nose, she smiled at him and climbed off his lap. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me," she apologized.

  He ruffled her short hair with is fingers. "It's okay, chickee. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

  She settled back in the chair, watching him with red–rimmed eyes. "So, tell me about what happened when you went to the plantation," she coaxed. "It must have been something pretty wild if you're still thinking about it."

  He tilted his head from side to side, to ease muscle cramps in his neck. "It was certainly unusual. To start with, the plantation I went to see was huge." His eyes clouded and he leaned back in his chair. "You aren't going to believe what I have to tell you. It all started the night I got there...

  "...And that's when the doctor called to tell me you'd been admitted to the hospital. I packed my bags and came home." He studied the shocked expression on her face. "Pretty strange trip, huh? What do you think?"

  Eyes wide, she stared at him for a few minutes. "Well, it's certainly something to think about." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Let me get this straight. You didn't see anything this woman saw?"

  "Nope. Mary was the only one who saw anything. Or at least she thinks she saw something."

  "What do you think?" she asked. "Is this Mary person psychic?"

  He shook his head. "No. I asked if she was, and she said nothing like this has ever happened to her before. She doesn't understand why she can see things or remember things nobody else can."

  Audrey rubbed the tips of her fingers across her mouth and chin. "Maybe she's psychic and doesn't know it. I've read that sometimes people don't find their psychic ability until later in life. However, it usually takes some kind of traumatic event to trigger it." She peered at him over the tips of her fingers. "Did something happen to her at the plantation that you're not mentioning?"

  He felt his cheeks burn and quickly covered them with his hands. Surely seeing him again couldn't have triggered her psychic ability. "Nothing that I know of. Maybe something happened before she came to the plantation, and she didn't mention it."

  Audrey narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge his response. There was something about the plantation he wasn't telling her. She was sure of it. Well, she'd just have to worm it out of him. "So, are you going to keep in touch with her? Is she going to tell you when something else happens?"

  He shook his head. "I don't think so. We aren't that close, so there's no reason for us to stay in touch. We merely worked on a job together. After she sends me the files, that should be it."

  She leaned closer, patting his arm. "Jack, I want you to stay in touch with her. I want to know more about this house, and why she can see things from the past. Maybe she can help me get in touch with my past life." She stood up and kissed his cheek. "Will you please do that for me, Jackie boy? Please?"

  What had he gotten himself into? He felt guilty enough about his attraction to Mary. Now, Audrey wanted him to stay in touch with her! How much more complicated could things get?

  He looked down at her pale, smiling face, and the ache in his stomach worsened. "Okay, Audrey. I'll see what I can do to find out something for you. Okay?"

  Her voice quivered as she walked toward the kitchen. "Thanks, Jack. I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important. Maybe you could even arrange for me to meet her so I can ask some questions about what happened to her at the plantation."

  Jack nearly fell out of his chair. What had he just promised himself into?

  Chapter 10

  The worst of the snowstorm had already passed by the time Mary landed in Boston and retrieved her car from the long-term lot. When her car slid to a halt in a vacant parking spot behind her apartment building, she promised herself the next vehicle she bought would be a snowplow--for good traction on icy streets.

  Her shoulders ached from leaning over the wheel to peer through the snow blowing across the windshield. She stretched her muscles to help restore circulation and longed for a hot, steamy bath. Sighing, she got out of her car and glanced at her watch. Great. Four o'clock in the morning; too late to go to bed and too early to be up.

  Ice crystals blew at her face and stung her eyelids as she trudged through the ankle deep snow to her building. This had to be her worst Christmas ever. Next year, if she got a local job, she was going to keep it. Being out of town during the holidays was the pitts.

  When she unlocked the security door, the warmth of the entryway enveloped her like a sauna. Grateful for a respite from the bitter wind, she stood under the heater vent for a moment, then forced weary legs to propel her forward. Had DeeDee remembered to turn on the furnace? God, she hoped so. If not, her apartment was sure to feel like an igloo.

  The aroma of French Vanilla coffee drifted through the air as she stepped into her living room. Curious, she followed the scent to the kitchen and read the note taped to the cabinet. DeeDee had set the automatic timer for three am in anticipation of her return. On the counter next to the coffeepot, a big red bow sat on top of an unopened bottle of expensive brandy. A card attached to the front of the bottle read Merry Christmas.

  Bless DeeDee's heart! She grinned and poured a cup of the delicious-smelling decaffeinated coffee, then added a teaspoon of brandy to it. As tired as she was, it wouldn't take much to send her into a deep slumber. Twenty minutes later, after she swallowed the last of her coffee, she padded into the bedroom, switched on the electric blanket, and slid beneath clean flannel sheets, grateful that she'd learned to change the bed linens before she left on a trip. Her eyelids felt like lead weights and she gratefully let them close. Maybe now she could get some rest.

  The incessant sound of her apartment buzzer floated in and out of her dreams. She opened one eye and cocked her head to see if the noise was real or a product of her imagination. When it persisted, she decided it had to be real. Nothing she imagined could be that obnoxious. The next sound she heard was the click of a key in the lock. She bolted upright and reached for the baseball bat she kept under the bed.

  "Mary, where are you?" a familiar voice called from the living room.

  Her panic faded. "Go away, I'm tired," she groaned. She pulled the covers back over her head.

  DeeDee scrambled onto the edge of her bed and twitched the blankets. "Merry Christmas to you, too! Is that any way to treat the person who turned on your heat and fixed your coffee la
st night? Not everybody's sister would go out in a blinding snowstorm and do that, you know."

  Mary peeped over the covers. "Okay, you win. Merry Christmas and thank you. I really appreciate it. Now will you go away and let me sleep?"

  "Do you know what time it is? It's nearly noon. Where's my present? Come on, sleepy head. I've waited long enough for you to catch up on your beauty sleep. I want to hear all about your trip. The suspense is killing me. Get up. I'll even make you something to eat." DeeDee slapped the hump of Mary's hip under the blankets, then disappeared down the hall.

  Mary sighed. She knew she wouldn't have any peace until she'd told her sister all about the trip. She forced herself out of bed and followed her to the kitchen.

  "Thanks for turning on the heat. I don't know what I would have done if my apartment had been an ice cube." She sniffed the aroma of eggs, bacon, and coffee appreciatively. "I'm starving. Aren't those eggs done yet?"

  DeeDee grinned. "In a minute. I'm waiting for the toast. You can pay me back by giving me my present. Where'd you hide it? I've looked all over this place."

  Mary grinned as she padded to the living room to retrieve DeeDee's gift from the closet. "The one place you'd never look. In my extra suitcase."

  When she returned, DeeDee handed her a plate. While Mary ate, she tore open her package, then squealed with delight. A grin lit her face as she wrapped a multi-colored silk scarf around her neck.

  "This is gorgeous, I love it! It'll look great with my new suit." She fingered the scarf for a few minutes, then rested her chin on her hands. "Okay, you've eaten enough. Tell me all about your trip."

  Mary stared at her and wondered how their parents could have had two children with such different personalities. Whereas she was quiet and reserved, DeeDee was loquacious and gorgeous. Mary took after their father, but DeeDee had inherited their mother's dark hair and alabaster skin. Her oval face perfectly accented her petite nose, crystal-clear blue eyes, and full red lips. Tall and slender, she could have graced the pages of any magazine in the country.