Authors: Sharon Sala
Julie eyed the pale amber liquid a little nervously. “The hospital personnel would have a fit if I use this.”
He sighed. “I know. I certainly can’t make you try it, but here’s the deal. Claudette said this is some secret concoction the slaves once used to heal themselves after they were whipped by their owners. The fact that Mama Lou is even sharing it is a big freaking deal, honey.”
Julie pointed. “Can I smell it?”
He unscrewed the lid and held it beneath her nose. “It doesn’t smell bad at all. Is it greasy?”
Brendan let a little bit drip into the palm of her hand. She rubbed it lightly across the lash marks on her forearm.
“It’s not greasy at all, in fact, it’s… Oh wow!”
“What?” Brendan asked, suddenly anxious.
Julie looked up. “It’s numbing. It’s taking away that hot, stinging sensation.”
She threw back the sheet and then held out her hand for more.
He poured a little more in the palm of her hand then watched as she rubbed it on both legs.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Julie whispered. “It’s really numbing the pain.”
“What about putting it on the rest of you?” Brendan asked.
She untied the hospital gown and let it drop to her waist, unashamedly baring her body as she proceeded to rub it on every place a lash had struck. The last place she put it was on her cheeks and chin.
“I wouldn’t put it anywhere around your eyes,” Brendan said.
“Agreed,” she said, then looked up at him and grinned.
“What?” he asked.
“Look at us. I’m sitting her bare-ass naked, rubbing some voodoo concoction all over myself while you hold the bottle. I wonder how long it would take Mama to pitch a fit if she walked in on this?”
“Oh hell, I never thought. Just hurry,” he said and looked nervously over his shoulder.
She slipped her arms back through the sleeves of the gown and re-tied it.
“There now… all doctored and decent and no one’s the wiser.”
Brendan screwed the lid back on the bottle and slipped it into the cotton pouch.
“I’m going to put this in the bottom drawer of this table, okay?”
Julie watched him tuck it toward the back of the drawer behind the small plastic tub.
“Is there any rule to how often I can use it?” she asked.
“Claudette just said to use it as you felt the need. I think you should wash it off the palms of your hands, though.” He gave her a wet, soapy washcloth to clean up.
As soon as she finished, she lay back down, tucked the bear beneath her arm and let out a long, shaky breath.
“Tell Mama Lou thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is the first time since it happened that I almost feel normal again.”
“I will. Oh. I found LeGrande this morning and told him you sent your thanks for his help.”
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He was pleased, I think. He told me to take care of you. I told him that was a given.”
She smiled, but her thoughts were in free fall. “They’re going to dismiss me in a day or so.”
“That’s wonderful,” he said.
“As much as I hate to go there, I’ll probably finish recuperating at my parents’ home, but only because it will be easier until I can be mobile on my own.”
“I guessed as much.”
“You’ll come see me, won’t you?”
“I’ll call you every day,” he said.
“But you won’t come there?”
Their gazes locked. Finally, it was Brendan who looked away.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Before he could explain, the door opened and Grayson March strode in. His face was flushed, and there was a glitter in his eyes that Julie recognized as fury. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she knew her father was about to make the current situation worse, and he did when he glared at Brendan.
“This is the last damn person I want to see right now.”
Brendan lifted his chin, as if bracing for a blow.
Julie was horrified. “Daddy! How dare you—”
Grayson was so angry he was shaking. “I can’t prove it, but I know your father was responsible for—”
Brendan was fed up and pointed a finger in Grayson’s face.
“That’s enough, damn it! I’m sick and tired of being the punching bag for what’s going on between you and Anson Poe. You two grew up together. You have known him a hell of a lot longer than I have. I haven’t lived at home since I was nineteen years old and there is a reason for that. You’re a grown man. Try acting like one.”
Grayson flinched. The put-down was hard to hear, and he could tell by the look on Julie’s face she was going to be mad at him all over again.
Brendan lifted Julie’s hand to his lips. “I’m sorry, Julie. I love you. I will always love you, but you have to go home to get well, and I wouldn’t set foot there if my life depended on it.”
Julie was crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You are no more responsible for your father’s actions than I am for mine. I’ll call you.”
“You don’t understand,” Grayson snapped. “Two of my men are dead and—”
Brendan’s expression went blank. “Are you accusing me of murder?”
“No, but—”
“Then shut the fuck up,” he said softly and walked out of the room without looking back.
Julie pointed at the door. “Get out.”
Grayson sighed. “Look, you don’t know what’s been happening.”
“I won’t ask you again,” Julie said.
He pivoted angrily and strode out of the room, blaming everything that was going wrong in his life on the argument he had with Poe at the apartment building. He was convinced that none of this would ever have happened had it not been for his daughter’s infatuation with Anson’s son.
****
Lisette Branscum finally made a decision. Knowing she had been burned out on purpose had destroyed any interest she might have had in rebuilding her life in New Orleans. Without knowing who her enemy was, she’d be living the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She had applied for a passport and as soon as her insurance money and the passport arrived, she was going to Paris—maybe for good. In the meantime, she’d decided to make the rounds of the city where she’d been born, saying good-bye to her friends without tears or angst.
It was during one of her visits that she heard the latest local gossip about Anson Poe and wondered if the voodoo curse she’d asked Mama Lou to put on him had taken a wrong turn. If it was working, Anson should’ve been the one going down for murder, not giving a statement that pointed the finger at Grayson March’s hired guns.
She feared she had misjudged him and made a mistake by having him cursed, then wondered what would happen to her for having a curse put on an innocent man. The only way she’d know for sure was pay another visit to Mama Lou.
****
Mama Lou had come by her name honestly. She’d birthed nine children in her life, seven of whom were still living. Those children had given her twenty-eight grandchildren, twelve great-grandchildren, and to date, one great-great-grandchild. She’d outlived two husbands and three lovers, and swore to this day that they all died with smiles on their faces. While her lust for life was unmistakable, it was her religion for which she was known.
Voodoo was as much a part of Mama Lou as the children she’d carried in her womb. Unlike some of the other practitioners who also catered to tourists, she lived under the radar, dealing only with locals and true believers. She saw her clients in her home and had one due at any moment, so when she heard the knock at her door, it was not Lisette Branscum she expected to see.
Lisette eyed the tiny little woman nervously, afraid her arrival would be viewed as a lack of faith.
“Mama Lou, I know you didn’t expect me, but I need to ask you a question.”
“You may ask.”
The tiny row house, common to the area where Mama Lou had lived for the past seventy-nine years, was only feet away from the houses on either side. Lisette looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone, then leaned down to whisper the question.
“What I asked you to do was because I believed a man was guilty of a crime. What happens if he is innocent? Does the curse still work or does it come back on me for cursing an innocent man?”
Mama Lou’s gaze shifted to a spot just over Lisette Branscum’s shoulder. At first, her eyes widened, and then they narrowed as if focusing in on a sight only she could see.
“The man is innocent of nothing. It will work as it is meant to work. When you leave here, take nothing with you of your past.”
Lisette shrugged. “I have nothing left of my past. It all burned up.”
“You have your ways. Do not practice them again or it will come to no good.”
A shiver ran up Lisette’s spin. “I understand.”
“You go now,” Mama Lou said.
Lisette left the stoop, moving at a fast clip down the sidewalk and never looked back.
****
Anson sat on the tailgate of his truck watching a cottonmouth slither across the ground only a couple of yards from where Chance was standing.
His boys had just finished loading up the bamboo pots in the wholesaler’s truck and were cleaning up the workstations as the wholesaler drove away.
Anson was counting out his money while watching the snake and making silent bets with himself as to what was going to happen next. He was so into the game that he didn’t realize he’d been made.
Sam happened to look up, noticed the odd expression on his father’s face, which led him to follow Anson’s line of sight right to the deadly snake only a few feet from the back of Chance’s leg.
Sam grabbed a machete from the worktable, pushing Chance aside with one hand as he swung the knife with the other, swiftly cutting off the snake’s head. Blood spurted on the back of Chance’s pants as the snake’s body began writhing in death throes.
“What the hell?” Chance yelled, then looked down and shuddered. “Oh hell! Thanks brother.”
Sam turned to face Anson, the machete gripped tightly in his hand.
“You son of a bitch.”
Anson frowned. “Watch your tongue, boy.”
Sam pointed the machete at him to punctuate the question. “How long were you going to watch before you said something?”
Chance looked at his brother in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Sam was still staring at his father, stunned by the smirk on his face. “He knew the snake was there. He watched it getting closer and never said a word.”
Chance turned on his father in disbelief. “Is that true?”
“You weren’t in any danger,” Anson said.
Chance took a step back, his voice sudden shaking. “You were betting my life that the snake wouldn’t strike? Is that all we are to you... a little entertainment at the end of a day?”
Anson laughed. “What are you gonna do? Cry about it?”
Chance doubled up his fists, but then seemed to think better of it and strode out of the shed without a word.
Anson arched an eyebrow. “By damn I think he
is
gonna cry.”
Sam was so angry he was shaking, but what frightened him more was how easy it would be to behead their snake-of-a-father as he’d beheaded the one on the ground. Instead of acting on the thought, he laid the machete on the table and walked out, followed by the sound of his father’s laughter.
“Get here early tomorrow,” Anson yelled. “We got a crop to harvest.”
Sam just kept walking.
Chance was waiting for him in the truck.
He got in without saying a word, started the engine and drove away.
Chance hands were fisted against his knees, his voice thick with tears. “What the fuck are we doing?”
Guilt weighed heavily on Sam’s shoulders. He was the oldest. If he’d taken a stand, neither one of them would be in this position today.
“We’re keeping Mama and Linny safe, that’s what we’re doing.”
Chance shuddered. “If that’s what you tell yourself to make this work, then so be it, brother. But I’m telling you now that no one is safe around him. He’s always been wild, but now he’s getting mean, crazy mean.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Sam muttered. “If we quit, that leaves Mama and Belinda at his mercy.”
Chance hit the seat with his fist. “Why do good people die, and people like him still keep living?”
Sam shook his head. “That’s not for us to know or to judge. That’s between them and God, little brother.”
“I’m gonna make him sorry,” Chance said.
“By doing what?” Sam asked.
“I’m not telling you, so you won’t try and talk me out of it. But you’ll know when it happens.”
Sam frowned. “Don’t go and do something stupid.”
Chance laughed, but there wasn’t a shred of humor in the sound. “Fuck it, Sam. We’re already doing something stupid every time we set foot on Wisteria Hill. Every time we cut his fucking weed. Every time we do business with a man like Wes Riordan. We both heard Riordan talk about what kind of money he could get for selling Linny, and neither one of us said a thing. He was talking about pimping out our little sister to some sick perverts and we just stood there. Stood there! I still have nightmares about it!”
Sam’s gut knotted. “And what do you think would happen to her if we weren’t there anymore?”
And just like that, all of Chance’s rage was gone. He scrubbed his hands over his face and leaned back against the seat in quiet defeat.
“I know you’re right. But it’s not going to keep me from wishing the bastard dead, and don’t preach at me. That sin will be between
me
and God.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m not throwing stones or preaching at anyone. We’re both guilty of plenty on our own.”
Chance changed the subject. “My truck will be ready tomorrow so I’ll drive out on my own.”
Sam eyed the jut of his brother’s jaw. “What are you going to do tonight? Are you still seeing that pretty little hostess at the steak house?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Sam asked.
“Because I don’t want Daddy to know I like her. He’d find a way to fuck with her, that’s why.”
Sam couldn’t deny he’d made similar decisions in the past. “This is a hell of a way to live, isn’t it, brother?”
Chance shook his head. “I don’t call this living. We’re just going through the motions.”