by Robin Caroll
CoCo spied her grandmother dozing on the couch. She took two steps in that direction. Grandmere’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, CoCo, it’s you.”
“I’m home. Where’s Tara?”
Grandmere mustered herself into sitting straight. “Out.” Her eyes widened again as she caught sight of Luc filling the doorway. “Luc Trahan, what’re you doing here?” Her gaze darted back to CoCo, questions shimmering in her fading eyes.
Motioning Luc to join her, CoCo sat on the edge of the couch. “Grandmere, I need to tell you something. Something important.” She took her grandmother’s hand, rubbing her thumb over the paper-thin skin covering the bent knuckles. “We’ve found some Confederate coins here recently. Hidden in the wall outside and under the rosebush. Do you know anything about them?”
“Coins…” Her grandmother wore a faraway stare.
CoCo squeezed her hand slightly. “Think, Grandmere. Anything.”
“Now, I do remember Toby finding a doubloon back when he came to touch up the doorframes.” She shook her head, the long gray hair moving like straw. “Paint’s always chipping and peeling.”
“A doubloon?” CoCo couldn’t afford to let her grandmother become sidetracked. This was too important. “Did you see it when Toby found it? What’d you do with it?”
Grandmere’s eyes focused back on CoCo. “He showed it to me. Said it fell out when he was putting a nail in the frame.” She shrugged. “Looked like a Mardi Gras trinket, so I told him he could keep it.”
CoCo chewed her bottom lip. Toby couldn’t be more than twelve, thirteen at the most…he wouldn’t have recognized it as being real. “Think, Grandmere. When was this? When did Toby find the coin?”
“A couple of weeks ago, maybe a month at most.” Recognition dawned in her eyes. “It was real? A real coin?”
“A real Confederate coin. I’ve found several others.” CoCo sucked in a deep breath and let her thumb massage her grandmother’s hand. “I think there may be more. But…” She tossed a glance over her shoulder and met Luc’s stare.
He cleared his throat. “Mrs. LeBlanc, we found a letter in my grandfather’s things that implied he knew the coins were here. Had he been here in the past month or so?”
“Not hardly! Your grandfather thought I was a mad woman.” Grandmere chuckled under her breath. “He was scared of what I could do to him.”
Seeing the hardening in Luc’s eyes, CoCo tugged her grandmother’s hand. “That letter also said there was proof of Justin Trahan’s involvement in the Klan.” CoCo swallowed hard. “And Grandpere’s.”
“Not my Marcel. No! He would never have been involved in the Klan.” Grandmere jerked her hand away, raising the gnarled knuckles to her mouth. “Not Marcel,” she whispered more to herself than to them.
“The letter could be all lies, but we just want to check it out.” Luc’s deep voice held a calming note.
Grandmere let out a long breath. “No, I’ll not believe it.” Tears glittered as she stared at CoCo. “You can check it out. All of your grandfather’s personal things are in the trunks in the attic.”
She patted her grandmother’s leg, then stood and gave a quick jerk of her head to Luc. “We’ll go see what we can find.”
“CoCo,” Grandmere said, “if you do find something about Marcel’s involvement, I want to know.”
“Of course.” CoCo led Luc down the hall until they stood under the pull-down steps to the attic.
A long string allowed her to reach. She tugged, and the folding stairs descended. A blast of steamy air hit them square in the face.
“It’s gonna be hot up here, even though it’s night.” CoCo unfolded the stairs and pushed the feet to the area rug.
“I’m ready for answers, no matter how hot it is.”
She nodded, then ascended the steps. At the top, she jerked another string, spilling light into the attic. Cobwebs hung on the rafters and dust coated every surface, like some gruesome movie. CoCo sneezed as she moved to allow Luc access.
“Wow, this place hasn’t been visited in a while,” he said.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been up here.” She ducked to miss hitting a rafter and headed to the far end of the attic.
Two large trunks sat side-by-side under a window. CoCo struggled to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. She leaned over farther, pushing aside boxes with her foot, and put all her upper strength into the movement. It still didn’t move.
“Let me.” Luc’s hands reached around her and popped the sill. The window slid open with a couple of catches. He breathed in over her shoulder. “Fresh air.”
CoCo turned around and faced him. His hands were still braced against the window, entrapping her in his embrace. Her heart pitter-patted wildly. Her mouth felt as dry as the ground in August. She licked her lips, but it brought no relief.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered for an eternity-filled moment, then traveled back to her eyes. The love she’d recognized in them earlier returned. Full force. With only the slightest hesitation, Luc leaned into her as he wrapped his arms around her. His head bent and she closed her eyes.
His lips grazed hers…soft, gentle, like a whisper. Her body quickened as she gripped his biceps. Then logic tapped her on the shoulder. She pushed away from him.
“I told you we were just working together and that’s it.” The thudding of her heart weakened her knees.
“There’s so much I want to say to you, need to say to you, but n—”
“No. I can’t do this again, Luc. Please.”
The muscles in his jaw popped, but he nodded. He dusted his hands on his jeans and turned to stare at the attic. “Fine. You take that trunk and I’ll take this one.”
Luc’s heart zinged every time he glanced over at CoCo. He’d seen the love glimmering in her eyes when he’d kissed her, even when she’d pushed him away. It was wrong. He knew their love didn’t stand a chance—never had.
“Oh, my, check this out.” She stood and placed a white hat with a wide brim on her head, tilting it slightly.
“You look good in hats.” He swallowed. CoCo looked good in everything. Even the walking shorts and camp-style shirt she now wore. A sheen of perspiration dotted her upper lip. The lip he’d kissed a few minutes ago. The one he wanted to kiss again. He’d missed their emotional connection for years.
She laughed, dispelling the intense thoughts running through his head. “I’ll have to give it to Alyssa next time she’s here. Maybe she can use it for her United Daughters of the Confederacy meetings.”
“How is Alyssa?” He pulled out old photo albums from the trunk.
“Fine. Still living up in Shreveport, working as a reporter. Every free minute she has, she’s doing something for the UDC.”
He stopped from flipping the pages of the album. “I detect a note of hesitation in your voice. What’s wrong?”
She lowered her head, but not before he’d caught the hurt in her expression. “Tara. She’s Grandmere’s new student.”
Luc nearly choked. “Of voodoo?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I refused to learn anymore. And Alyssa’s been gone for so long.” She pushed her bangs off her forehead. “Grandmere feels she must teach one of us, and by process of elimination, only Tara’s left.”
His heart flipped. “Why aren’t you learning from your grandmother anymore?”
“Luc…” Her voice cracked. “Luc, less than a month after you—after we broke up—I finally realized I’d been wrong.”
“About?” Borderline joy sung in his heart.
“About God. Jesus. Voodoo. My life. Everything.” Fresh tears stung her eyes.
“And?”
“I accepted Jesus into my heart. I confessed my sins and turned from them.”
His eyes pooled. Tears ran down her face. Time stood still.
Then, he moved forward and drew her into his arms. Held her tight. Kissed the top of her head.
She shook her head and moved away
from him. “Anyway, Alyssa had run to another town after college to get away from Grandmere’s ways. Thought I was a regular heathen.” She let out a half sigh, half snort. “I guess I was. Anyway, now that Grandmere’s teaching Tara, Alyssa blames me.”
“How can she blame you?”
“Because I allowed it to happen. I turned my back, therefore, Grandmere started teaching Tara. She’s the baby, so Alyssa and I are supposed to protect her.” Tears snuck from her eyes. “I’m not doing such a grand job.”
He set the album on the dust-covered floor and stared, afraid to move toward her. “It’s not your responsibility.”
She lowered her head.
Luc put a finger under her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. “You can’t be responsible for someone else’s actions.”
She blinked. “I have to lead her to Jesus, Luc. You know that.”
His heart did, because he’d felt the exact same emotion. “You know, I learned a really hard lesson two years ago. A painful lesson.”
Panic crept across her face.
“No, not what happened to my father and between us.”
Uncertainty pushed the fear aside.
“I learned that I can plant a seed of salvation, but it’s each individual person’s choice to accept it or not.” He dropped his hand, but her gaze stayed glued to him. “I learned that beating someone over the head with my Bible isn’t going to make them decide to accept Christ. If anything, it can make them run farther away.”
“What do I do?” Her tone was void of hope.
He stiffened his spine. “You let God do the miracles. We’re only human, CoCo, but God’s still in the miracle business. Trust Him.”
Her eyes filled with tears again, but he could tell these were tears of relief. Of letting go of a burden she never should have carried. “Thank you.”
It was enough for the time being. “Now, get back to work.”
Luc’s words had lightened her load, made her spirit free. He was right—she had to leave it all in God’s very capable hands. Stepping out in faith.
CoCo cut her glance to him. He sat cross-legged on the floor, a tattered old photo album open in his lap. Light caught the dust dancing in the air every time either of them moved. She smiled and went back to digging in her trunk. If she had to go through one more plantation crop record book….
He let out a low whistle and jumped to his feet. Particles filled the air.
“What?”
“Let’s get this under better light.” He moved toward the hanging single bulb to hold the album right under its glow. “Check this out.”
She rushed to his side. Her arm brushed against his as she peered at the book. She squinted her eyes and studied the picture he had illuminated under the light. Her heart contracted, and it had nothing to do with Luc Trahan’s close proximity.
The photograph depicted two men in their midtwenties, smiling as they stood together, their arms slung around each other. Both men wore white robes with the Ku Klux Klan emblem emblazoned.
CoCo swallowed. “Is that Grandpere and Justin?”
Luc let out a rush of air. “I think so.”
She pulled the photo free from the corner-holders and moved the picture closer to her face to make out the details. “It is them. At this house.” She shook her head. “I would never have believed Grandpere was a member of the Klan. Knowing how Grandmere feels…”
He grabbed a yellowed sheet of paper from the album. “Looks like some type of journal entry.”
“That’s Grandpere’s handwriting.” Her breath caught in her throat as she read.
I confess now that I was involved in the KKK, deeply. I did unspeakable things, horrible things that I never want to remember. But remember I must. I hid these albums up in the attic because I couldn’t burn them— wouldn’t. I need the reminder of the sins I’ve committed. I can only pray that when my time comes, the Lord has mercy on my soul.
The ache stripped against her very heart. “Poor Grandpere. I never knew.” CoCo shoved away the tears. By the tone of the letter, she could assume he’d accepted Jesus and now sat in heaven. She sighed and ran a finger over the shed caught in the background of the picture. “That’s Grandmere’s workshop.”
“I thought she didn’t know about the Klan involvement.”
Her heart hammered so loud she could hear her pulse in her head. Had she been fed lie after lie and gobbled up every one of them? “Let’s go ask her.”
They descended from the attic single-file. CoCo led the way to the living room, gripping the picture and letter tight. Her grandmother may be a lot of things, but she’d never lied to her or her sisters. At least not that she knew of. CoCo’s stomach burned with the thought.
Her grandmother sat on the couch, a void look on her face as she stared out the front windows.
“Grandmere?”
Her grandmother jerked, clearly startled. “You frightened me, ma chère. I was woolgathering.”
CoCo sat on the couch, Luc sitting beside her. She held out the picture to her grandmother. “We found this in one of the trunks.”
Grandmere took the picture and glanced at it. “What have we here?”
With a sigh, she lifted the glasses she wore on a chain around her neck and perched them over the bridge of her nose. She sucked in air. Her hands trembled. The photo drifted to the floor, like a dried leaf caught on an autumn breeze.
“Grandmere!” CoCo’s insides shuddered and goose bumps pricked her skin. She wrapped an arm around the older woman, guilt for her earlier accusing thoughts settling in her heart.
Her grandmother’s face turned ashen. “Not Marcel. In the Klan?” Her voice quivered.
“That photo was taken here, on this land. You didn’t know?”
“Of course not! My traditions come from Haiti, ma chère, you know that. I would never have allowed Marcel to be so prejudiced against something I value so deeply. Never.”
“Then who took this picture?” Luc asked, lifting the photo from where it had landed on the hardwood floor.
“I know not.” Grandmere’s entire body shook.
With a trembling hand, CoCo passed the letter to her grandmother. “We found this as well.”
Grandmere shook as she read, her eyes filling with tears.
Luc pushed to his feet. “I think it’s high time I talk to Uncle Justin and get some answers.”
“I don’t think now’s a good time,” CoCo said.
“Why not?” Irritation sat in his features. “I’m tired of getting the runaround. It’s time for the truth.”
“Wait until after tomorrow, Luc.”
“Why?” Impatience hovered in his tone.
“Because tomorrow is your grandfather’s funeral.”
EIGHTEEN
It didn’t seem right for the day to be bright and beautiful when they were going to bury a man. The blue jays tweeted and sang outside. CoCo stood at the window in her bedroom, staring out over the bayou. Funerals—hadn’t she endured enough of them in her life already? Mom and Dad, Grandpere, Luc’s father, now his grandfather. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her parents’ coffins, side by side. She avoided their graves with the single headstone. It hurt too much.
Lord, help me to understand. I can’t see why death keeps kicking me in the face. Please, Father, give me strength.
“Are you going to his funeral? ”Tara asked from the doorway.
CoCo turned to her sister. “I am.”
“Grandmere told me Luc was here with you last night.” Tara’s eyebrows arched into her forehead. “Guess you two kissed and made up?”
“Not really. We’re just working together to try and find out who killed his grandfather.”
“Nothing more?”
“No. I just want our family name cleared.”
Her sister laughed. “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” She shrugged. “Hey, if he’s the one who’ll make you happy, I’m all for it.” She took a couple of steps into the room. “His grandfather is
a whole other story. If you want my opinion—”
“I don’t.” CoCo set her chin.
Tara snorted. A most unladylike snort at that. “I say you should have let the gators keep him.”
“Tara! That’s a horrible thing to say about another human being.”
“Some human he was. ”Tara crossed her arms over her chest. “He was perfectly willing to throw us out, and you know it.”
CoCo chewed her bottom lip. Lord, help me out. “You know, there’s a lot more going on here than the obvious. I didn’t personally like Beau, but I respected his life.”
“Good. You go respect. I’ll stay here with Grandmere.”
She managed to hold back the sigh. No sense getting into yet another argument with her sister. They obviously didn’t see eye-to-eye, probably never would. Until God touched Tara’s heart anyway.
“By the way, Alyssa said she’s calling you tonight.” Tara threw the departing slam before leaving.
Oh, happy day. Joy and rapture. Another scathing call from her sister. Her younger sister. As if today wouldn’t be hard enough. Then again, last night had been pretty tough. She had never seen Grandmere break down and sob so. It nearly broke CoCo’s heart. Grandpere’s letter, in his own words, had reinforced the witnessing she’d been trying with her grandmother. Maybe God’s timing would come around quicker after all. She prayed so.
She grabbed her purse from the dresser and glanced in the mirror to give herself a once-over. She’d coerced her curls into a tight bun. The hairstyle made her eyes appear darker against her tanned skin. At least she had a clear complexion. The plain black dress with gold buttons all the way down the front would have to suffice. Her skin itched against the panty hose. Good thing the church she’d been attending across town allowed pants. Getting all gussied up in hose, dresses and pumps left a lot to be desired. A whole lot.
Her heels clicked as she made her way down the stairs. The robust aroma of fresh coffee met her as she stepped into the foyer. She marched into the kitchen.
Grandmere turned, offering her a cup. “Thought you might need this, cher.”
“Merci.” She took a cautious sip and savored the strong French Roast.
