Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6)

by Lyla Payne

  I nod, my chest tight at the sight of her. “I brought you dinner. Do you want to try some soup?”

  She licks her lips, then tips her head to the side to see Beau. He gives her a brief wave that she doesn’t return, turning back to me instead. “Yah got plenty a man friends, ain’t yah?”

  It catches me off guard, even though the teasing is normal for her, and I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, well…I brought Beau for a specific reason.”

  “Tah feed me soup? What kind yah got in there?”

  It’s Beau’s turn to chuckle, the bags rustling as he rummages through them in search of the soup containers. He unearths all four, setting them on the floor of the hut. He crosses his legs and sits beside them, unconcerned that he’s on the rough ground in his nice jeans. The image reminds me again that he’s not like his family, or at least that he’s not only like his family. Beau is a man who wants to make it on his own, who doesn’t mind getting his hands—or his butt, apparently— dirty if it means accomplishing his goal.

  The more I know about Lucy, the more I have to wonder how much she had to do with his change of course. The way Beau told it, he had decided to strike out on his own before he met her, and that’s why he kept his family a secret, but if that’s how it happened, the timing that destroyed them had been impeccable.

  “Let’s see. Looks like there’s chicken noodle, tomato basil, sausage and penne, and French onion. Pick your poison.”

  I tear my eyes away from Beau’s lanky, handsome frame in time to see Odette wince at his choice of words. She’s struggling to sit up, and I put my hands under her elbows and help, pulling gently until she’s slumped against the wall but mostly upright.

  “Guess I take tha chicken n noodles. Beings I’s under tha weather.”

  Beau passes her the container and a spoon, and a couple packets of crackers, as well. “For you, Gracie Anne?”

  “Nothing. I brought it all for Odette. She can share with her friends if she wants.”

  Odette slurps a full spoonful and gives me the side-eye. “Ya know I’d never be sharin’ if I felt right. Seeings I don’, yah can go ahead and take it out to tha fire, hansom.”

  Beau unfolds himself from the floor and casts a longing look at the greasy paper bags. I give him an encouraging smile and he leaves, heading out to give away our supper. It might have been nice of me to keep something for the root doctor, but I don’t know what he likes. Or if he’d want it. I figure there are hungry people out there, so let them have it.

  I raise an eyebrow at Odette. “You called Leo handsome, too. You’d better be careful.”

  “You best be careful, girl. You tha one mixed up with more than ya can handle.”

  “That’s true,” I lament, seeing no reason to argue. “But not when it comes to men.”

  She grunts, then gives me another side-eye that says she thinks I’m being obtuse. “None of my never mind, I’s can tell yah that.”

  “The root doctor…” I say. “What’s his name?”

  “Don’ know.”

  “Well, what do you call him?” I press, more than a little exasperated that she’s being obtuse now. Knowing Odette, it’s probably to make a point.

  “We calls him Dr. Rue. ’Cause he walk tha path to balance.”

  “Dr. Rue. Okay.” A deep breath helps calm my irritation. Odette slurps more soup, her brow wetter with sweat with each swallow. She needs to lie down again before she collapses. “I brought Beau here because—”

  I’m interrupted by his re-entry to the cabin, just in time to hear his name.

  His gentle, hazel eyes slide over me as he draws close, then kneels at my side. “Please, go on. I’m interested as to why you invited me, too. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I want to know if Odette sees a curse on your head.”

  That surprises Beau but not our sick friend. She takes her time studying him, her gaze starting at his knees and raising over his solid torso, broad chest and shoulders, scruffy jaw, and finally lingering above his head where she and the other Gullah always spot my own curse.

  She shakes her head. “Nah. He clean.”

  “She didn’t do it.” Relief mingles with worry, leaving my stomach a messy, slick ball of confusion. If Mama Lottie has what she needs and hasn’t placed the curse, what does that mean?

  The only thing I think it means for sure is that she hasn’t done anything about the curse on my family. Maybe she’s not going to. Maybe she’s trying to verify what I’ve told her about James on her own, somehow. She could have taken Amelia with the hope that she knows the details, but more likely, she wants to make me as uncomfortable as I’m making her. That’s what I think.

  It’s disturbing, how easy it is for me to guess at Mama Lottie’s intentions. I could attribute it to my abilities, on our unwanted connection, but it’s really because we’re alike. We’re both quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and think that revenge is the way to make everything better. Unlike her, I do think I’m able to separate the past from the present, and embrace the what’s done is done theory. Most of the time.

  “Mama Lottie hasn’t cursed my family?” Beau’s mouth purses in thought. “But you gave her everything. Why not?”

  “It could be because of what I told her about James. She acted like she didn’t believe me, and she was more angry than anything, but she could have calmed down after she’d thought about it. Maybe she doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting her own great-grandchildren.”

  “Your curse still there.” Odette nods at me, then holds out her bowl for me to take.

  I do, then pass it to Beau so I can help her lie back down. “I figured. But that’s why Dr. Rue asked me to come here tonight. He said he would try to help me figure out how to break it without Mama Lottie’s help, remember?”

  She nods, her eyes closed tight against what looks like pain. Odette’s chest rises and falls too quickly for the small amount of exertion. My teeth worry at my lower lip. I’m going to ask this Dr. Rue why his so-called healing spells or root medicine or whatever he gave her the last time didn’t work for shit, too.

  As though summoned by my thoughts, he appears in the doorway. The firelight behind him casts his long, dark shadow across the floor, covering Beau and me, and most of Odette, too. My chest constricts as I let her go and scramble to my feet, swallowing hard and reminding myself he’s just a man. And he’s here to help me. I think.

  The hard look in his dark eyes does nothing to ease my pounding heart. Beau gets up and stands beside me, so close our shoulders press together. His reaction tells me everything I need to know about mine—that my anxiety is well-placed.

  “I am glad you could make it,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. His gaze flicks to Beau, but he doesn’t ask for an introduction or offer his name. The same way he did to Leo and me a few days ago.

  “Thank you for calling,” I manage. “You can understand that I’m anxious to get started on this curse.”

  He frowns. “The curse is very old. It has had time to sink deep roots into your genes, to curl tight around cells and through bone. Digging it out will take time, and it will not be without sacrifice. Or pain.”

  The way he talks about pain and sacrifice wets my palms with sweat. He said before that he would require things of me, and I felt sure that whatever it meant, I could handle it. Even if I can’t, that’s not going to stop me from going through with it.

  “I understand,” I tell him, forcing my gaze not to waver when it locks with his. “I’m willing to do my part, Dr. Rue. Whatever it takes.”

  A coughing fit racks Odette’s body. It goes on so long that she’s struggling to breathe. I kneel beside her and hold her hand while Beau fetches her the sweet tea I brought from Westies. After a moment, she’s able to sip a couple of times from the straw, but her eyes are so bloodshot and swollen she can hardly open them.

  I turn an accusing gaze on Dr. Rue. “Why isn’t she better?”

  He doesn’t answer, opening his bag and extracting a smal
l, mesh sack that has wet spots on the outside and stinks to high heaven. He presses it to Odette’s forehead, eliciting a small moan, then settles it in the hollow beneath her throat. Dr. Rue’s low murmurs and bag of stench seem to help soothe her and she lies back, sinking into the straw that looks like it’s starting to mold.

  “Miss Harper.” Dr. Rue’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper, as though he doesn’t wish to disturb Odette. He tips his head to one side, indicating I should follow him out of the hut.

  Even though anger over his lack of actual doctoring continues to swirl in my blood, there doesn’t seem to be any point in antagonizing him. Not if he’s really figured out how to help me with Anne Bonny’s curse after all this time.

  “There is something you need to know about Odette’s illness,” he begins, flicking a look toward Beau that’s brimming with distaste. Which is odd, since it’s not as though he told me to come alone. “She’s suffering from a smaller version of the curse on your family.”

  The night spins so hard I have to squeeze my eyes shut to try to make it stop. I lean sideways into Beau, who winds a supportive arm around my waist.

  “What?” is the first brilliant question I’m able to form. “How?”

  Even better, Gracie.

  He’d mentioned something similar the other night, but only in passing. Not as if it had been the gospel truth. I’d wanted to believe it wasn’t.

  “I’m not sure how it got to her, but it’s likely because she’s been helping you.” He glances toward Odette, lowering his voice further. “But this isn’t like treating the common cold.”

  My throat tightens. I will never forgive myself if Odette dies because she helped me, even if she mostly talks in riddles and makes me want to tear my hair out. “How can I help her?”

  “By breaking the curse on your family. Any branches coming off it will wither and die, too.”

  “Do you see a curse on my head?” Beau blurts, his fingers digging into my side.

  Based on a flash in the doctor’s eyes and the tightening of his mouth, the interruption seems to annoy him. He doesn’t ignore Beau this time, though, and takes a close look before shaking his head. “No. You’re free from that particular burden.”

  The question startled me a bit more than it had the doctor. The anxiety blowing off Beau says he believes in all of this stuff and that he’s scared. Because of me, because of what I did.

  Shame heats my cheeks. I do my best to ignore it, focusing instead on the issue at hand. If our curse is affecting other people now, like Odette, that’s all the more reason to move quickly.

  “You keep comparing the curse to a tree—roots, branches, tendrils,” I observe aloud. “Is there a reason for that?”

  He nods, an appreciative gleam in his eye now. Apparently, he thought I was completely daft, and it’s hard to blame him. I’ve been pulled in too many directions to be on top of my game lately.

  “Curses are more than magic. They’re built from emotion, out of the earth itself. They pass from generation to generation, growing from the initial seed until, like I said, it’s part of who you are. Like a tree, it needs help to survive.”

  “So if a tree needs water and air and sunlight, what does a curse need?”

  “Belief, an agent, and the status quo.”

  I think about that for a minute. “Well, Anne Bonny believed in it from the beginning, and there’s no use pretending Amelia and I don’t believe in it now. Mrs. LaBadie was the agent, but Mama Lottie killed her.”

  “There will be another. There may already be another.” He sounds sure, and there’s no reason to doubt him.

  I nod. “Okay, so what’s the status quo? I mean, I know what it means, but how does everything staying the same protect the curse?”

  It must have something to do with what Odette and Dr. Rue said about the curse—that it will break when it is broken, but I still don’t understand exactly what that means or how to make it happen.

  “It means that if the cursed does nothing to improve his or her own situation, or to atone for the actions that earned the ire of the curse-placer, nothing will change.”

  The riddles exhaust me. I lean harder on Beau, glad he’s here. Even happier he’s keeping silent, not that he would have anything to add. Hell, I don’t even know what we’re talking about and I’ve been dealing with this stuff longer than he has.

  “Just tell me what to do, Dr. Rue. I don’t have to understand it, not if you can help.” I hold my breath and when I blow it out, it shudders. “Can you help me?”

  He looks into my eyes for a long, long time. I struggle to breathe under the weight of his gaze but refuse to look away, determined to show him that I can rise to whatever challenge he sets at my feet. The expression on his face matches the surety in my soul that I don’t have the slightest idea how dangerous a ledge I’m stepping off, but getting rid of the curse is the only way to truly get Amelia back, after we convince Mama Lottie to give up her body.

  I want her soul back, and I want baby Jack to have a life, and when Dr. Rue nods, the relief that washes over me is strong enough to banish my lingering fear.

  “I can help you. And I’m not the only one.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Beau and I meet Mel and Will at Debbie’s Diner. Beau looks exhausted and stunned, an odd combination on a face that’s typically so composed, but it’s been a hell of a night. Too much talk about curses and voodoo with a man who definitely looks like he knows a lot about both. I voted for Pete’s and booze, but everyone else gave in to Mel’s pouting so we agreed to meet for pie, instead.

  The seats of the booths are covered in light blue vinyl, still ripped in the same places it was when we were in high school. Foam pokes through here and there, and the benches are sticky where duct tape has been applied more than once, only to peel off—or be peeled off—by the new, younger versions of us running loose in Heron Creek.

  Thankfully, the pie hasn’t changed, either. I order a piece of apple and request a couple slices of American cheese on top, a tradition inherited from my gramps. It never fails to gross out my friends, so double bonus for ordering it whenever possible. Will orders blackberry, probably because he knows I want a bite, while Mel goes for chocolate and Beau earns odd looks by opting for strawberry rhubarb. It’s November, so the pie won’t be as good as it is when fruit is in season, but it’s better than nothing.

  “I’m glad you guys could come,” I confess, so happy to have my friends sitting across from me on a crazy night like tonight. I need things to stay the same, at least some of them, no matter what the root doctor said about static lives and the effectiveness of curses. “Who’s watching Grant?”

  “He’s spending the night at LeighAnn’s,” Mel answers. “She’s got at least one kid around that age and the woman refuses to say no to more of them—her own or other people’s. God bless her.”

  “She’s been a godsend these past several days. We owe her at least one kid-free night when this is over.” My eyes skim the menu I know by heart.

  “Agreed.” Mel grins. “You can do it. I’m pregnant.”

  “She uses that excuse for everything now,” Will grouses, spinning his straw around in his cup. “I’m not allowed to protest because I don’t have to give birth in a few months. But you could fight her on it.”

  He looks hopefully in my direction, but I hold up my hands to block any attempt at alliance.

  “No way, buddy. She squeezes a watermelon out of a lemon-sized hole, she gets to say whatever she wants, and I guess I’ll have a toddler sleepover.”

  “Traitor,” he mumbles, then shoots a scared look at his wife.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t be mad because I’m smarter than you.”

  “Yeah, you should be used to it by now,” Mel retorts.

  The pie arrives, sitting on plates in front of us like the prettiest piles of sugar in the world. Beau grabs his fork, shaking his head at the banter he couldn’t find an opening to join. “You know, I still can’t decide
if I would have liked y’all if we’d known one another as kids.”

  “Definitely not,” Mel decides. “We were assholes.”

  “You would have been on Leo’s team,” Will observes.

  I’m glad he said it so I didn’t have to.

  The pie stops us from talking, and my worries crowd back in with the silence. As good as it is to see my friends and act like we’re all hanging out without cares beyond pie and discussing where Beau would have fit into our childhood gang wars, the knot in my gut won’t let me ignore it any longer. In fact, I only get down two bites of pie—one of mine and one of Will’s—before I set down my fork and sigh.

  “I found someone to help with the curse on our family,” I start, “since Mama Lottie has run off. Probably with Amelia.”

  My conversation topic kills everyone else’s appetite, too, and I wonder if this will be the first time an entire table of patrons doesn’t finish their slices of Debbie’s homemade pie.

  “Who?” Mel asks, swallowing.

  “A friend of Odette’s. He’s a root doctor, which I guess is some kind of voodoo priest or something.” I shrug.

  “He’s creepy, whatever he is,” Beau chimes in, still looking like less than himself. “I wouldn’t mess with him.”

  “I took Beau with me to ask if Mama Lottie already put the curse on his family. They say she hasn’t, which is good. It gives me hope that she’s at least thinking about what I told her.” I push chunks of pie around with my fork, the smell of cinnamon and sugar making me nauseated. “I just can’t wait on Mama Lottie to keep her promise if someone else can help.”

  “What did he say? I mean…are you sure he’s not trying to pull one over on you?” Will’s blue eyes have shifted from curious to suspicious.

  The ease of the shift makes me wonder why no one suggested he look into law enforcement as a career before now. It’s such a perfect fit.

  “I don’t think he’s pulling anything over on me.” I bite my lower lip, searching for a way to explain the inexplicable. “It’s like Beau says. You just know. Besides, we’re not giving him anything. There’s nothing in it for anyone but us.”