Healing the Bayou (10 page)

I slammed the door hard behind me, and he stopped, almost seeming afraid of me.

“What’s going on?” he asked as if he had no idea what the quarrel had been about.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded. The sharpness in my tone caused him to recoil, but this time I didn’t care.

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“You let me feel as if I was imagining that you had any interest in me.” Tears fell from my eyes and I hated myself for letting him see them. “Last night I thought there was something wrong with me. I knew there was something between us and I could tell you did too. But then you pushed away and I thought that you were rejecting me because I’m not as pretty or as skinny as Camille.”

“Why do you keep thinking there’s something with me and Camille?”

“That’s not the point! You should have told me. You knew I was feeling that way, so why didn’t you make it stop?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“It has to do with you. How is it not your place?”

“Eliza, you don’t understand the way it works here. This is something you should have been taught when you were a child. I can’t be the one to explain these things to you. That’s just not how it’s done.”

“I don’t give a damn how it’s done here. This isn’t my world. This isn’t my way of life.”

“But it is mine.”

The simplicity in his words stung. It didn’t matter how he did or didn’t feel about me. Even if Vivian had been right and he was in love with me, he would follow these people to the ends of the earth because he’d been trained to. It took the workings of a cult at its finest to keep a man from his own happiness. Only a day ago I was ready to jump into this fire myself if it meant being with him.

But now, I had no reason at all to stay here. I couldn’t trust the only relative I had, and there was no pillow of love to fall back on either. And still I couldn’t make my feet move. The thought of never seeing Samuel again was enough to paralyze me. Torn between walking away from the only man I had ever let myself get close to loving, and staying despite not ever having a future with him, I could not make myself decide.

“They won’t let you leave.”

I let out a breathy whimper at the threat. Dumbfounded by the audacity, I had enough to push me over the edge. He was trying to intimidate me into staying and I wouldn’t be bullied by him or any of the rest of them.

“Get out of my way.”

He didn’t. Instead, he took a step closer and moved his face only a breath’s distance from mine. Holding my breath to keep from inhaling his aroma, I could recognize that he knew he was my weakness. I refused to let him exploit it.

“Listen to me,” he spoke slowly and deliberately. “They will not let you leave. You’re the first bit of hope these people have had in ages and they’re not about to let you walk away from your responsibilities.”

The way he spoke in such a sinister voice frightened me, and despite banishing the admission from my thoughts to hide it, he still read it in my eyes. Reducing his expression from cold to comforting, he leaned his forehead into mine with a heavy sigh.

My vision clouded from the touch, and I involuntarily closed my eyes, concentrating on a voice that had suddenly joined my own inside my mind. Every thought he had was moving into my consciousness. Breathing in his essence, I could feel what he was feeling.

Aunt Vivian was right—he did love me. He had loved me long before I knew him and it was killing him to keep it to himself. The pain that gripped his heart was maddening. He was stuck between the people who gave him everything he has and his need to have me. The flash of emotions was overwhelming and my heart grieved for him. I had no idea he was so troubled and guilt swept over me. I wasn’t making this any easier on him.

Shaking my head, I pushed him away. I couldn’t be near him right now. All I could think about doing was wrapping my arms around him and making the pain go away. But that would only make it worse for him, and I wouldn’t be able to keep resisting the urge much longer.

“I have to go,” I managed between sobs and brushed past him. When I got to the sidewalk I turned just in time to watch him walk inside. Maintaining my direction, I continued walking away from Samuel.

“Are you all right, Ms. Vivian?” he asked when he noticed her hunched over the kitchen table with Camille at her side offering comfort.

“I told you, Samuel,” she spat at him. “I told you she had no business here. You can’t trust her. She’s going to ruin everything.”

“Ms. Vivian, she’s just confused,” he defended. “This would be a lot for anybody to take in—”

“No! You’ve had your time with her. Now you need to let her go. You need to decide, Samuel. It’s her, or it’s your family.”

“Maybe if I talked to her,” Camille interjected. “It might help if she had a girlfriend to talk to.”

“She can’t control herself,” Vivian warned.

“I have to try,” Camille insisted. “It would break everyone’s heart if the prophet left us.”

“Do what you want. But I’m warning both of you: one more incident and I’m making the call.”

Chapter Nine

I needed to clear my head and the only way I was going to be able to do that was to get away from anything that had to do with Voodoo and the people involved in it. Without a car my destination was limited, so I spent the day playing tourist along the streets of New Orleans. As luck would have it today was the first day of the Greek festival held inside a grand cathedral near the Bayou St. John. My adoptive mother was Greek and she was a member of only the first generation of her family to be born in America, so I had spent much of my childhood immersed in the vibrant culture and I was in love with it.

The spontaneous energy was alive and could be enjoyed by even those who were not sensitive to it. Stamping feet from performers mixed with the music from the bouzouki guitars were playing so loud I could feel the vibrations in my chest, and I loved the joy they offered me.

I had more than my fill of gyros, spinach pie, and baklava before night set in. Once the darkness fell the similarities between their costumes and the ones worn by the women in the paintings plastered on Vivian’s walls became clear.

I frowned at myself for ruining my own good time and decided it was time to leave. Not yet ready to return to the house, I instead found myself at the dock where Samuel and I had been the night before.

Sitting on the edge of the wooden platform, I took off my shoes and rolled up my jeans. The coolness of the water was soothing on my feet, which were achingly hot from being stifled in my sneakers all day. I was more of a sandals kind of girl—typical Floridian.

Scanning the same scene I was graced with last night, the magic of it was lost somehow without Samuel here. Now that it was quiet I was forced to confront the decision I had to make, and I had never been so lost and alone.

“The bayou really is a wonderful place.” Camille’s voice startled me from behind.

I turned, and she was walking toward me in a forest green dress that came just to her knee and showed way too much cleavage revealed only by the dim light of the street lamps. Ashamed of the jealousy I could not push away, I shook my head at myself. This time it wasn’t over her beauty though. It was over her freedom. She didn’t have these expectations and limits I had. Nor was she burdened with the curse of being a healer. She could touch who she wanted and was able to live her adolescence with the kind of carefree immunity one should have at our age.

I pulled my legs out of the water to stand and greet her, but instead she joined me, sitting a little too close for comfort.

“How did you know I would be here?” I asked her, trying not to let my voice give away how glad I was for the interruption.

“I was worried about you. Samuel said you would be here.”

My throat dried from the heat of my anger. He couldn’t help being inside my head, but it was bad enough I couldn’t be alone with my own thoughts. Now he was sharing them with other people. The irritation was muffled by the look of sincere concern on Camille’s face, and I suddenly needed to comfort her.

“I’m all right,” I assured her. “There isn’t any reason for you to worry. I just needed some time to myself to think about everything.”

Camille’s lips bent into a soft smile, and she tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. She suddenly looked very excited.

This was going to be a conversation I was going to regret.

“Did you know that the legend says this lake is haunted?”

I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh, come on, Camille.”

“No, really!” she insisted. “This lake is called Pontchartrain, and Saint John’s bayou empties into it right over there.” She pointed to our right. “That’s where your great-great-grandmother practiced most of her rituals. The locals here will swear at night you can hear them still taking place.”

“Camille, for six months my mother thought our attic was haunted and it turned out to be raccoons making a home in our boxes of crap we had stored up there.”

“Shh, just try it. Be quiet and listen.”

Cocking my head to the side, I listened for a minute. There was nothing but silence, and I shot her with an I’m-too-smart-for-this-trick look.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Of course you don’t. If this place is haunted, it isn’t by Marie Laveau. She’s peacefully at rest.”

“Then what was the point in me listening?” I giggled, silently giving her credit for the sudden elevation in my mood.

“I just wanted to see if I could get you to.” She grinned hard. “Do you want to know what they’re really hearing?”

“You know?”

She nodded her head. “It’s our séances. They hear us performing the rituals Marie Laveau used to. We’re just carrying on the tradition.”

“Doesn’t anybody ever see you?” I challenged.

“Sure, they do. All the time, actually. Usually they run off scared when they find us, and when they tell the story they call us ghosts. As far as most of the world is concerned, we’re nothing more than apparitions of the night or something out of some gullible idiot’s imagination, depending on one’s religion.”

“Somebody has to be brave enough to wander in for a closer look eventually.”

“That’s what I did three years ago.”

I gaped, taken aback by the admission. “You mean you weren’t born into Voodoo?”

“God no.” She chuckled. “Actually, my Dad is a minister at a Methodist church in Baton Rouge.”

My jaw dropped even lower. She did fit the stereotyped preacher’s daughter frame. She wore her clothes too tight, her walk was a bit too wiggly, and flirtation was her natural means of communication.

“You’re a minister’s daughter? How the hell did you end up here?”

“We came here on a vacation three years ago. Well, Daddy called it a vacation. What he really meant was we were on a mission to save the damned souls of the Voodoo cult. I went out for a walk one night and when I heard the drums and the people, I wanted a closer look.”

“Wow.” I was legitimately astonished. “So, why did you stay?”

Her smile gave way and she struggled not to frown. Realizing I had just dredged up a painful memory for her, I was instantly sorry for having even asked.

“I stayed for the same reason you’re going to end up staying, Eliza.”

I blushed, knowing good and well she wasn’t referring to my responsibilities attached to my heritage. Everybody seemed to know I was into Samuel, and it was embarrassing. Still, now I was curious. She said she stayed for the same reason I would.

“Was it Samuel?”

“No, Samuel was in Florida by then. I do get the attraction there, though. He is gorgeous, isn’t he?”

Shooting ramrod straight, I had to squelch that feeling of protectiveness I held for him. She did find him attractive, but she didn’t seem interested in pursuing anything. I was going to have to convince myself to stop looking at her as though she was a challenger.

“It wasn’t Samuel,” she emphasized. “But it was a boy.”

“Who was he?”

“His name was Damon, another student of Vivian’s. I hardly knew him but from the minute I laid my eyes on him, I knew he was the one. I fell in love in one night, and my whole life changed for it.”

My heart bled for her as she spoke as if she was retelling the end of her happiness. I didn’t want to pry, but the psychiatrist in training took over and I wanted to help her, something I couldn’t do without knowing more.

“What happened to him?”

“He was another healer’s keeper. His healer grew tired of the celebrity among our people, and she left. Which meant he had to leave too.”

“Well, why didn’t you just go with him? You gave up your life in Baton Rouge to come here for him.”

“It was easy to walk away from my life in Baton Rouge. I never fit in where I was expected to. My parents wanted me to follow my mother’s footsteps and become a minister’s wife. I wanted bigger things for myself. Here… Eliza you have no idea how accepting these people are. For the first time in my life I had a real family. I had friends worth bragging about. Plus, eventually I had to accept I was always going to come second to his healer. I couldn’t find much happiness for me if I were to follow him wherever she decided to go, especially if I was always going to be his second priority.”

That’s exactly how Samuel made me feel, which was funny considering I was his healer. I was under the impression I was always going to come second to the community, but the way she explained it made me think about it differently. He left the only home he’d ever known to come to Florida to watch over me. If I left, he was going to leave too.

Somehow she knew I came to this realization, because she inched in closer and widened her eyes, begging me to understand.

“Eliza, I know that it’s a lot to ask of you. But Samuel means so much to everyone here. If you take him away, you take him from his home. His mother, his father, all of us will mourn for him.”

I sighed with a heavy heart, wishing to rewind to our lighter conversation we were having earlier.

“Camille, I don’t know. I can’t live my life for everyone else any more than you could.”