by Sharon Sala
“Touch is how I ‘see’ what I see,” Laurel said.
Suddenly the rocker stopped. The smile on Mattie’s face slid sideways, then disappeared. She looked at Justin for support but saw only pity—and something else, something frightening, in his gaze.
“Justin… you two are scaring me,” she said.
“You’re in danger,” Laurel said. “Someone is going to kill you tonight.”
The other woman moaned and would have dropped the baby had Justin not grabbed her out of Mattie’s arms.
“What are you saying?” Mattie whispered. “Why would you tell me something this awful?”
“Because it’s true,” Laurel said. She took a slow breath, trying to still the pain, but it wouldn’t stop. Tears that had been welling in her eyes began to spill down her face. “Whatever you were going to do tonight, don’t do it.”
“I’m only going home,” Mattie said. “I came here with my brother, and he’s taking me home afterward. And there’s no one at home who would hurt me.”
The moment she said it, she knew that was a lie. Only, Martin wasn’t home—wouldn’t be home until sometime late the next night, so she couldn’t mean him.
Justin laid the baby on the love seat next to the fireplace, then covered her with a blanket before turning back to Mattie.
“Couldn’t you and your husband just spend the night with Aaron?” he asked.
“Martin isn’t home,” Mattie said. “He’s in New Orleans on business and won’t be home until sometime tomorrow.”
“You could stay with Aaron.”
Mattie frowned. She’d grown up knowing about Marcella Campion’s powers. She’d been witness to them more than once, but she had no way of knowing if this woman was gifted in the same way. Then it hit her. This woman was the single reason Rachelle Mouton was still alive. Her eyes widened with fear.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Laurel nodded.
Mattie’s composure shattered, her voice dropping to just above a whisper.
“What do I do?”
“Stay here. Come home with me. Anything but what you were going to do,” Laurel begged.
Before Mattie could answer, the door swung inward. Everyone looked up. It was Mattie’s twin brother, Aaron. He was as stocky and blond as Mattie was slender and dark. They didn’t even look like brother and sister, let alone twins.
“There you are,” Aaron said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I’m ready to go home. How about you?”
Mattie pointed to Laurel.
“Aaron, this is Miz Marcella’s granddaughter. She says—”
Aaron Clement frowned. “I know who she is,” he said shortly, nodding briefly at Laurel without actually speaking to her. “Come on. We need to be going. I have to get up early in the morning to take a load of watermelons to Houma.”
Justin stood. He’d known Aaron all his life, and he also knew that Aaron was one of the few people in Bayou Jean who had made fun of Marcella Campion and scoffed at the powers she had claimed to possess. Convincing him of Laurel’s vision would be far more difficult than it had been to convince his sister.
“Aaron, listen to me, okay? We’ve known each other all our lives, right?”
Aaron’s frown deepened, but he nodded reluctantly.
“Yeah, so what does that have to do with anything?”
Laurel stood abruptly.
“Someone is going to kill your sister tonight. Is it you?”
Aaron staggered backward as if he’d been punched. His eyes bugged. His mouth went slack. Then he grabbed Mattie by the arm and yanked her toward the door. When she resisted and started to argue, he tightened his grip.
“We’re getting out of here,” he shouted.
“But, Aaron… she says she saw it. Please… I don’t want to die.”
Aaron rounded on Laurel like an old dog fighting to retain territory someone was trying to usurp. It was all he could do not to hit her as he pointed a finger in Laurel’s face.
“You’re crazy,” he muttered. “That’s all this is… just crazy talk! You don’t say that crap about me or my sister. You hear me? You do, and I’ll make you sorry.”
Justin pushed Aaron’s hand aside as he stepped between them.
“No. You’re the one who’s going to be sorry if you ever threaten her again.” Then he grabbed Aaron by the shoulders and shook him, desperate to make him believe. “For God’s sake, man. Even if you don’t believe… what’s it going to hurt to be safe rather than sorry? Take Mattie home with you. Her husband is gone. What can it hurt?”
“You heard me,” Aaron said, casting a furious look toward Laurel, then propelled his sister out the door.
Justin started after them when Laurel stopped him with a touch.
“Let them go,” she said. “I’ve been through this before. There’s nothing else to be done.”
Before Justin could answer, the baby on the love seat started to fuss. Laurel wiped away the tears on her face and straightened her shoulders, then picked up the child.
“Shh, little darling,” she said softly, then put the baby on her shoulder, sat down in the rocker and started to rock.
But Justin wasn’t ready to give up.
“Laurel, we can’t just let her—”
Laurel looked at him then, and the pain in her eyes stopped him cold.
“Welcome to my world,” she said, her words tinged with bitterness and defeat.
Justin didn’t know what to say. The little he knew about Laurel told him that she was right, but that tiny part of him that still didn’t understand how she did it wanted to believe she could be wrong—at least just this once.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
The baby in Laurel’s arms was starting to fuss.
“Go find this little girl’s mama,” Laurel said. “She needs to be home in her own bed.”
Justin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. At last he was beginning to understand the responsibilities that went with this kind of power. Seeing death before it came and not being able to stop it could make a sane person mad. How she still maintained even a semblance of normalcy was beyond him.
He bent down and kissed her cheek, then rubbed the soft hair on the top of the little baby’s head.
“I’ll be right back,” he said gently.
“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “This one is safe from my voodoo.”
Justin flinched. “That’s not fair,” he said shortly. “I don’t doubt you. Don’t blame me for the ones who do.”
He was gone before she could apologize, and it was just as well. If she’d had to talk again right then, she would have wound up bawling instead.
She cupped the back of the baby’s head with one hand while cradling her little bottom with the other and started to sing, hoping it would soothe the fussy child until the mother could appear.
And that was how Justin found her when he returned with Lorraine—slowly rocking, with her mouth next to the baby’s ear, humming a scattered little melody that had no words.
“I’m so sorry,” Lorraine said as she hurried into the room. “I didn’t realize Mattie had left. I don’t know why she didn’t bring the baby back to me.”
“It was my pleasure,” Laurel said, and reluctantly handed the baby back to her mother. “By the way, what’s her name?”
Lorraine smiled. “Genevieve, after my grandmother, but I think we’re going to call her Ginny.”
“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl,” Laurel said. “You’re a blessed woman.”
Lorraine nodded. “Yes, I am.” Then it dawned on her what Laurel had just said and wondered if there had been a hidden meaning. “Am I… I mean, are my children going to…”
Laurel sighed. “I can’t just see the future and tell you your life will be perfect, but I can say truthfully that I didn’t see anything at all, which, in my case, usually means everything is okay.”
“Oh, thank you!” Lorraine gushed, then looked at Justin and blushed.
“I’m being all silly and all, aren’t I, but we’re just so glad that Miz Marcella’s granddaughter is going to live at Mimosa Grove, just like Miz Marcella did.”
“Yes, I’m glad she’s there, too,” Justin said, and then took Laurel by the hand, giving her fingers a slight squeeze as Lorraine breezed out of the house with her child. The moment she was gone, he turned to Laurel. She was pale and shaking.
“Take me home,” she said softly.
He nodded. “Just let me tell Cheryl Ann and Tommy we’re leaving.”
“I couldn’t see the face of the man who does it,” Laurel said.
The hopelessness in her voice sent cold chills up Justin’s spine.
“I’ll call Harper Fonteneau, tell him what you saw. He can swing by the Lewis farm and check on her.”
“Call whoever you want. Tell them whatever you want to say. It won’t change what’s going to happen.”
Justin took her in his arms.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said softly, then rocked her where they stood. “So, so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for me,” Laurel said, and then started to cry. “Be sorry for Mattie. This was her last party.”
11
Justin’s call to Harper Fonteneau went as far as the night dispatcher, who informed Justin that the police chief was working a wreck with injuries. Justin left his number with an urgent message to call as Laurel buckled herself into his truck.
The dispatcher tossed the message on Fonteneau’s desk and went to pour himself another cup of coffee, while Mattie Lewis cried all the way home, despite her brother’s assurances that she was going to be fine. In a culture where voodoo and people who claimed to see spirits were everyday business, some were still skeptics, and her brother was one.
Justin knew Aaron Clement well enough to know that he wasn’t going to give any credence to Laurel’s vision. And although Laurel was sitting quietly in the passenger seat of his truck, he knew she was anything but serene. Her fingers were curled into fists in her lap, and her eyes still glistened from some unshed tears. The few times he’d spoken to her, she had been unable to answer with anything other than a shake or a nod of her head. He didn’t know how to deal with her like this, but he knew who would.
Marie LeFleur.
And in his urgency to get Laurel home to Mimosa Grove, he found himself driving on the high side of the speed limit, taking curves in the road close to the inside and wide at the comers. The desperation in Laurel’s eyes was catching. He felt her anxiety and, at the same time, her defeat. It occurred to him then why, upon her arrival, Mimosa Grove must have seemed like the answer to a prayer. She’d thought she was coming to a place where nobody knew her or expected anything from her except being the new woman in town. How shocked, then disappointed, she must have been to find out that Marcella Campion had been Bayou Jean’s Taj Mahal—their eighth wonder of the world, so to speak.
Lose a pig. Call Marcella.
Lose a child. Call Marcella.
Suspect a spouse was cheating. Call Marcella.
And Laurel had walked into all that completely unaware.
As sympathetic as he was to her predicament, he couldn’t regret that she’d come, because if she hadn’t, his niece would most likely be dead. And selfishly, he was most grateful that his dream woman had become a reality. But at what cost? Her happiness for his own?
Laurel was paying a high price for his peace of mind. But, though their relationship was new, never seeing her again would be a tragedy he didn’t want to face.
He was still lost in thought when, from the comer of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something moving in the darkness to his left. His foot was already on the brake when a deer bounded out of the woods and then froze in the headlights of his truck.
“Hang on,” he yelled at Laurel, then swerved to keep from hitting the doe.
The truck slid sideways on the road, breaking the headlights’ mesmerizing glare. The deer disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving Justin and Laurel shaking where they sat. He slammed the truck into Park and then reached for Laurel’s arm.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.” She combed her fingers through her disheveled hair, moving it away from her face, then leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “That was close.”
Justin scooted toward her, then pulled her into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “That was my fault. I was driving too fast.”
Laurel shook her head. “It was no one’s fault. It just happened.” Then she looked into his eyes, unaware that the lights from the dashboard mirrored her sadness. “You would never have hit the deer.”
“I almost did,” Justin said. “I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t, because it wasn’t meant to be. You can’t change your own fate, you know.”
Justin frowned. He knew she wasn’t talking about the deer. She was thinking of Mattie Lewis.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Even though you saw what’s going to happen to Mattie? Even though you warned her and she believed what you’d said?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s also surrounded by people and things that play a part in her fate. She can believe anything she hears, but unless she acts on it, it’s as if it was never said. Because of the way she was raised, she will not question a man’s decision.”
“That would make me crazy,” he muttered.
“Yes, sometimes that happens, too.”
His eyes widened as he remembered the gossip he’d heard about Marcella’s daughter, Phoebe, and where she’d ended up before she’d died. He felt sick that he’d spoken so casually about something that had been a tragedy in her family.
“Oh, honey… I’m sorry. I forgot about your mother. I didn’t mean—”
Laurel put a finger on Justin’s lips, then shook her head.
“It’s okay. Just take me home, will you?”
He took his foot off the brake, shifted into Drive and accelerated slowly.
Laurel scooted away from the door and closer to Justin. As the truck began to gain a little speed, she laid her head on his shoulder and started to cry.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart, and I’m the one who’s sorry. If I hadn’t insisted on taking you to Tommy and Cheryl Ann’s party, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Yes, it would,” she said. “I learned a long time ago that I have only two choices about how I live my life.”
“Like what?” Justin asked.
“I can hide away from the world, never coming in contact with anyone or anything that could bring on my visions, or I can live like a normal person and deal with what that means. And for me, I’d rather deal than hide. It’s that simple.”
Justin squeezed her fingers, then took his eyes from the road only long enough to give her a swift kiss on the forehead.
“And the world benefits from your bravery at your expense.”
“Sometimes I can make a difference.”
“Like with Rachelle.”
“Yes… like Rachelle.”
Justin frowned as he drove, staring through the windshield into the darkness and taking comfort from the limited illumination of the headlights, realizing that was the way everyone except Laurel lived their lives. They reacted and acted only upon what they saw, never having to deal with, or accept, the fact that there was more to the world than what they could see. But Laurel’s world was, at times, a 360-degree sphere of pure light, where nothing was sacred or secret, and where only she had to cope with the consequences. His heart hurt for her, thinking of how isolated and lonely she had to feel, especially when others doubted her vision.
A short while later, he pulled off the road and started down the long driveway leading to the mansion. The front of the old house was brightly lit.
He pointed and smiled.
“Looks like Marie left the lights on for you.”
Laurel’s anxiety began to ease.
“It’s a comforting sight,” she said, and then sighed.
Justin glanced at her, then back to the road, slowing down to allow a small opossum to pass before accelerating again.
“So you aren’t going to pack up and leave?”
Laurel looked at him and then frowned.
“Of course not. Why would you think something like that?”
His chin jutted slightly, as if bracing himself for an answer he might not want to hear.
“I don’t know… maybe because you’ve had nothing but trouble since you got here?”
Laurel laid a hand on his thigh. His muscles were as tense as the tone of his voice.
“That’s not entirely true,” she said softly. “You’re here.”
He braked near the front steps, then killed the engine before taking her in his arms.
“Chère, you take my breath away.”
Suddenly the air inside the truck felt too thick to breathe. Laurel ached for him—wanted him, to be with him—needing the passionate cleansing of a physical release to assuage the sadness within her.
“I want to make love to you,” she whispered.
“No more than I want you,” he murmured, then cupped her face with his hands. “Let me come in?”
She hesitated, glancing toward the house and thinking of Marie and what she might say, then shrugged off the thought. She was a grown woman. It shouldn’t matter what anyone thought.
“Yes.”
Justin opened the door and got out, then took Laurel by the hand. She slid across the seat, then held his hand all the way up the steps.
The front door was unlocked. She opened it and walked in, half expecting Marie to be standing in the hallway with a judgmental expression on her face. To her relief, there was no one there. Justin locked the door behind them, then turned off the lights. For a moment they were left in utter darkness; then, slowly, their eyes adjusted, and they took to the stairs.
Halfway up, Laurel heard a door open downstairs; then Marie called out, “Laurel, honey, do you need anything?”
Laurel glanced at Justin, then smiled.
“No, Mamárie, we’re fine. We’re going to bed. See you in the morning.”
