“It’s an Enemy Be Gone doll,” Mary said softly, her voice nearly drowned out by the clatter of the rain on the roof.
Laura leaned forward, determined to hear it all, no matter how much it sickened her. “What is it for?”
“It’s a doll created to make someone leave. To get rid of someone’s presence.”
Laura stole a glance at Drew, but if she was hoping for some sort of reaction she was disappointed. He had that same cold impassive look she was beginning to recognize.
“It’s also a ceremonial doll used to aid the spirits in finding the chosen one.”
The whisper of cold that had brushed Laura’s neck turned into clutching, icy fingers. “What is the chosen one?” Just saying the words nearly choked her.
“The one marked to leave.”
The tight band of fear wrapped around Laura’s heart, squeezed. Why did everyone want to get rid of her?
“Who would leave me this thing?”
Mary shrugged, but her nonchalant body language didn’t match the alarm growing in her eyes. “You must be careful, Laura. Staying at Lionsheart might not be the safest choice for you. The Inn across the street is where you should be.”
Another warning? Laura’s gaze met Drew’s, then she turned back and leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the table, her eyes locking on Mary’s. “If you know something about all this, about everything that’s been happening to me, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”
“Because I was your mother’s best friend?”
“I hope that counts for something.”
Mary fiddled with her cup for a long moment. “I can tell you that this doll wasn’t bought in any store.”
“How do you know?” Drew asked.
“It was handmade. By someone here in town. Someone familiar with the…arts.”
Drew’s voice turned cold. “Are you saying that my mother made this?”
Laura thought of the gris-gris bag Drew said Martha had left for her, and the altar in the attic. Was it possible it had been Martha all along? And if so, why did she purposely make Laura think it had been Drew?
“Not your mother,” Mary said, her voice deepening. Her gaze focused on Laura. “Hers.”
The word shot straight through Laura with laser precision. She jumped out of the chair turning her back on Mary. Then she remembered all the dolls in the attic. Many had been faceless and unfinished. She put two and two together then fell back into her chair almost defeated by the realization. “My mother made voodoo dolls?”
Drew handed her a filled teacup, obviously trying to calm her nerves. She took it, then put it down and fixed her eyes on Mary. “Why?”
“It was quite lucrative and she was very good at it,” Mary said. “She also made dolls for children, small rag dolls sold at exclusive toy shops in New Orleans.” She sighed. “Unfortunately those didn’t sell as well. We formulated a plan and created Voodoo Mystique never dreaming it would work so well. Nor had we realized how dire the consequences would be.”
“That’s when Delilah reinvented herself as a voodoo priestess?” Drew asked.
“Exactly, so we could sell more dolls.” Mary’s face turned solemn.
“But why?” Laura asked. “My mother was married to a Larame. What could she have possibly needed money for that she would go to such extreme measures?”
“Your mother and Paul were planning on leaving. Paul no longer wanted to work for his father’s law firm. They didn’t want to live at Lionsheart. They wanted to leave Louisiana and make a fresh start somewhere else.”
Laura stared at her. Something didn’t sound right about this. If they had wanted to go, why not just leave? Why the secrets? Unless…
“I’m sure Randal and Jeanne weren’t too happy about that.” Drew reached behind him and took a large candle off a nearby shelf.
Unless her parents were afraid of something, Laura finished her thought. Or someone. Had they been in danger?
“The Larames never found out,” Mary said. “Delilah was close to having the money they needed, but then Paul’s car went over the Devil’s Walk Bridge and he died.”
Drew kept turning the candle around in his hand, staring at it, smelling it. The candle looked a lot like the one Drew’s mother had been making earlier. Did she make them for Mary to sell in this shop?
“Then you and Laura almost drowned. After that, Delilah disappeared, and no one has seen her since.”
“What about that?” Laura asked. “How on earth did I end up in the swamp?”
“No one knows,” Mary said and fiddled with pouring herself another cup of tea.
“What about Georgette? What did she have to do with anything?” Drew persisted.
“Wrong place, wrong time.”
What was she hiding? A cold whisper of air touched Laura’s cheek. She whipped her head around, but again, saw nothing. She shuddered and thought about how much she hated this creepy place.
Drew set the candle down and leaned back in his chair. “Are you sure that’s all there was to it?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Mabel had an intense reaction to Laura. And Charlie…well, he’s been hanging around a lot.”
“Georgette was their only daughter. After her death their lives fell apart along with their marriage. Charlie gave up his job, his house, his family to become a drifter. They needed someone to blame. They settled on Delilah.”
A silence stretched between them and Drew picked up the candle again and held it to his nose. “What can you tell me about these candles?”
Her lips twisted into a frown. “Not much. They’re used in ceremonies.”
“Voodoo ceremonies?” Laura asked.
Mary nodded, confirming what Drew had said about Martha. If she didn’t practice voodoo, why would her kitchen be filled with voodoo candles? Some of the tightness left Laura’s chest as she looked at Drew. Martha had lied about him. But why?
“What is that I smell?” he asked, taking another whiff.
“Vinegar,” Mary said.
His eyebrows rose with surprise before he set the candle back down.
“Mary, is my mother here?” Laura demanded. Maybe Martha lied about her mother, too.
“Excuse me?”
“Yesterday I was almost run down. Last night, I found a snake in my bed. Today, someone left that doll in my drawer. A doll you tell me my mother once made.”
Mary stood and picked up the candle Drew had left on the table then walked past them and placed it back on the shelf. “True, but someone added the hair and the necklace. They had to have had those already. I’d say someone wants you gone pretty bad.”
That wasn’t an answer.
“Is there any chance that person is my mother?” Laura persisted, knowing she sounded almost desperate. “Is there any chance that she’s alive, and for some reason, she doesn’t want me to find her?”
“No.” Mary sat back down and stared at her, taking her measure, obviously trying to decide how much, if anything, to say.
“Why not? How can you be so sure? She could easily have had a lock of my hair and my old necklace.”
Mary leaned forward. “For your mother, you always came first. She wouldn’t have left you alone, if she’d had a choice. Never.”
Laura replayed what Mary said over in her mind. They were the words she’d always hoped to hear and yet a deep sadness seeped through her, weakening her, as if it came right out of her bones. “Are you sure?” Her voice broke.
“Absolutely,” Mary said. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. If your mother didn’t come back for you, it was because she couldn’t.”
Her words reverberated through Laura’s mind like the clank of a graveyard gate.
Because she couldn’t.
A sharp pain twisted inside her. It was the truth. Deep in her heart, she’d always known it. “I guess I was just hoping…”
Mary rose from her chair. “Your mother was very special to me. She loved you so much. Someone stopped
her from coming to you, and now someone’s leaving you warnings. Don’t take them lightly, Laura. Go home. Go back to San Francisco before it’s too late. There’s nothing more for you to do here, and nothing to stay for. The past is gone.”
Mary’s words destroyed all hope in Laura’s heart.
Her mother had to be dead.
Mary pulled a chain from around her neck and held it out to Laura. “This is something you might want.”
Laura stared at the long silver necklace lying in Mary’s palm.
“It’s St. Christopher. It was your mother’s.”
Laura took the chain and turned the pendant over. The name Delilah was etched into the back.
“It was a gift from her father before he died.”
A grandfather she would never know anything about. Tears burned behind Laura’s eyes and slipped onto her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“What should we do with the doll?” Drew pointed toward the doll on table.
“I’ll burn it with the cleansing fire. Whatever power it might have had will be extinguished.”
Drew nodded, then led Laura toward the door. Without a backward glance, she picked up her umbrella and walked out of the store.
A deep ache sat in the pit of Laura’s stomach. Someone had lied about her mother being here. It was malicious and cruel and whatever was going on here, it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t safe. Mary was right. There was nothing left for her here. Not anymore. Her life was in California.
But how had Mary known she’d grown up in San Francisco?
Wariness and suspicion wormed their way into Laura’s thoughts, but she pushed them away. This was a small town. In small towns everyone knew everything about everybody. She now had what she came for. She didn’t know what had happened to her mother, and she probably never would. But she knew she’d been loved. That she’d mattered. It was time to go home and put all this ugliness behind her.
Chapter 11
Laura watched the rain beating against the street and opened her umbrella.
“So where to next?” Drew asked as he stepped up next to her.
“I’d rather not go back to Lionsheart.”
Drew’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you sure?”
Laura nodded. “Mary is right. Without my mother, I don’t belong here. It’s time I went home and put all this behind me.”
A mixture of relief and trepidation shone in his gaze.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I know it’s for the best. You’ve been trying to tell me that, I just needed to accept it and now that I have, I need to go home. But until then…”
“How about we try the Inn?” He pointed at the white clapboard home across the street that had been restored and turned into a bed-and-breakfast. Rocking chairs beckoned on a wide welcoming wraparound porch. Pots of hanging red begonias blew back and forth with the wind. Laura nodded and they ran side by side across the street and up the front steps as the cold rain battered them.
On the porch, Laura shook off the excess water before stepping inside. The bell rang and Laura cringed as they dripped across the gleaming mahogany floors while walking toward a large counter along the far wall.
“Oh, my, look at the two of you,” an older woman with short red hair and very green eyes said as she entered from a back room. “You’re soaking wet. Must be pouring cats and dogs out there.”
Drew wiped water from his face. “I’d have to agree with you there. We’d like your nicest room.”
“Of course. How long will you be staying?” The woman pulled out a large leather-bound book.
Drew turned to Laura, the same question shining in his eyes.
She bit her lip. She knew it was time for this trip to come to an end, to put the search for her mother behind her. She only wished she were ready to put Drew behind her.
“Just tonight. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
She looked up into Drew’s eyes and saw approval, and perhaps a touch of regret? She hoped so.
“All right.” Smiling, the woman pushed the leather-bound book toward them.
Drew signed his name and gave her a credit card.
“I’ve put you in the Rose room. It’s the room on the right on the third floor. That one has a nice view of the town square.” She handed Drew a key.
“Sounds perfect.” As he took the key, Laura realized this could be the last few hours they had together.
“Do you have any bags? I’ll call Joe to help you bring them up.”
“We’ll bring them over later,” Drew said.
“Oh.” The woman looked momentarily confused, then her cheeks pinkened and her smile grew wider.
Heat flushed Laura’s face as she realized what the elderly woman must be thinking. And it wasn’t too far from what Laura was thinking. If she was going to have to say goodbye to Drew, she’d like to have a nice memory to take with her to keep her warm on those cold San Francisco nights.
“If you’d like to leave your wet clothes outside your door, I’ll put them in the dryer for you,” the innkeeper continued after Laura finished signing the book.
Laura looked down at her drenched shirt and jeans. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“There will be tea and cookies in the parlor at four o’clock. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“I’m sure we will,” Laura said and followed close behind Drew up the stairs to the third floor. As they walked, she took in his wide shoulders and well-defined arms and thought about how strong they’d felt wrapped around her that morning. Saying goodbye to him wouldn’t be easy.
Drew unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Their room was large and spotless. The decorations were a bit old-fashioned with an overabundance of pink tea roses, but the bed looked plush and comfortable. She touched it, imagining wrapping herself around Drew and snuggling deep beneath the blankets.
“Take a look at this.” Drew stood in the bathroom doorway and gestured her forward.
The deep claw-foot bathtub made Laura sigh audibly. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath right now.”
Drew picked up a book of matches from a tray on the counter and lit a nearby candle. “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes?”
She liked the sound of that.
“Take a nice long bath while I find us some lunch.”
Hmm. Laura looked at the flickering candle and bath oils. Getting out of her wet clothes was exactly what she had in mind.
“You are wonderful. Are you sure?” she asked, though she had no intention of letting him go back out into the storm.
“Absolutely, I’m starving. How’s twenty minutes?”
“Great.” Laura turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature.
Drew left the bathroom. “Just hand me your clothes when you’re ready.”
She was ready now. Obviously he wasn’t thinking along the same lines as she was. Was he just hungry? Or was it something else? After their morning together, she’d be surprised if he still wanted to hold her at arm’s length. This was their last afternoon together and she wasn’t about to spend it alone. She took off all her clothes, gathered them up then walked into the bedroom.
Drew was on the phone talking to his mother, telling her of Laura’s change in plans and that they wouldn’t be home for dinner. She hoped that meant he planned to spend the next several hours here with her.
“Here you go,” she said, once he hung up the phone.
Drew turned toward her, his eyes widening with surprise then quickly darkening with desire as his gaze slid down her body then back up to linger on her breasts. She took a deep breath, lifting them higher. A twitch rippled through his jaw. She couldn’t help the slow grin spreading across her face. He did want her.
She handed him the bundle of clothes then slowly walked over to her purse on the bed. With her back to him, she fished inside for a hair clip, piled her hair high on her head and clipped it in place. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood rooted in place, holding her clothes agains
t his chest, oblivious to the spreading wet spot on his shirt while his warm gaze fixated on her.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to join me in the bath?” she asked with feigned nonchalance.
He swallowed. Then nodded. He opened the door and dropped the clothes in a heap on the floor outside in the hall, then closed and locked the door.
She smiled as she walked back into the bathroom adding what she hoped was an enticing sway to her hips. Hot steam had already filled the room. She poured vanilla bubble bath into the water, breathed in the fragrant scent then stepped into the tub. She moaned with pleasure as the water’s heat seeped into her chilled muscles.
Heaven. She sat there for a moment, enjoying the feel of the hot water and the faint smell of vanilla. Drew stood in the doorway watching her. She felt something special with him, something she wanted to explore further, something she didn’t want to lose.
Drew knew this was a mistake the second he stepped into the bathroom. He should go get lunch as he’d planned, but seeing Laura lying there, sudsy bubbles teasing her breasts…looking soft and appealing and incredibly sexy, ate away at his resolve. And killed any appetite he had for food.
He reached behind him and shut the door.
“The water is wonderful.” The throaty rasp of her voice heated his body better than any hot bath ever could.
He sat on the rim of the tub. His gaze on hers as he leaned forward and gently touched her lips with his. The softness of her mouth quickened his breath.
She wanted him.
Her desire was a potent aphrodisiac and not one he could resist. She lifted her hand up to his neck, her soft touch leaving a lingering trail of wet bubbles along his skin. The scent of vanilla curled into his brain, mingling with the sight of her bare arm, her skin slick with water.
“You smell delicious,” he murmured and tried not to think about her naked body beneath all those suds, but the image of her large breasts, firm belly and rounded thighs, silky smooth and flawless, kept assaulting his mind.
One more kiss then he’d salvage what was left of this situation before he completely lost control. She was on the verge of going back to San Francisco, where she would be safe, and would most likely escape death’s touch. He’d be an idiot to give her a reason to stay.
Black Magic Lover Page 11
