“What, Mom?”
Colleen slid the album across the coffee table toward her daughter. “This particular collection contains some daguerreotypes taken prior to the Civil War. These are strictly antebellum memories of the Deschanels during the final years before the war. Charles was known to hire a photographer to come to his parties, you see, and though casual photography was difficult and expensive at the time, he was fascinated with the practice and couldn’t help himself. We’ve found ledgers showing he spent the equivalent, in today’s money, of more than five hundred thousand dollars on the fixation.”
Amelia started to ask her mother what she was looking at when she saw it.
The photo was of Amelia. Though grainy in the black and white image, it was clearly her. Victor stood in the corner of the photograph, a wry grin on his face as he took her measure from across the room. Jacob’s defensive stance to her left was almost comical to see in print.
“How… is this possible? I thought we couldn’t change history? That we couldn’t leave our mark?”
“You’re half right, it seems,” Colleen replied. She nodded at Aria to pour more tea for Amelia. “This picture always caught my attention, for I always wanted to know who the young woman with the white-blonde hair was who so strongly resembled my own daughter. Of course, I never guessed at the truth. The simplest answer is usually the correct one. Your hair, while unusual to most, is a known Deschanel trait. Many women in our ancestry through the years shared your white locks and pale blue eyes. For all we knew, she was a visiting cousin from France.”
“Well, she’s not!”
“No, dear, of course, she isn’t. Would you like me to have a copy made?”
“Mom! Don’t you know what this means?”
“I suppose if you do, you might be kind enough to tell me,” Colleen replied evenly.
“Okay, well, maybe I don’t,” Amelia answered, flopping back in her chair. “We know so little about time travel and didn’t have an opportunity to ask more questions. But, then, isn’t a memory of our adventure there changing it? What do they call that, the butterfly effect? Even our being there, being present, could affect outcomes and people’s lives.”
“Not for certain,” Colleen said. “I understand your concern, but we have no evidence, other than an old photograph, that your presence changed anything at all. It may even be safe to say, if we want to give ourselves a headache considering the matter, that the version of the present you’ve always lived in was one that assumed you’d gone back in time.”
“You’re right. I do have a headache.”
Colleen excused herself again and returned with several more photo albums. One by one, she opened them, flipping to specific pictures, and with each, Amelia’s heart skipped and then sank.
“I don’t know if you doubted Victor’s claim, but this appears to validate, at least, his immortality,” Colleen said, pointing to picture after picture of Victor visiting with various Deschanels over the years. In each, his angular face was as young as the day Amelia had met him. His hair showed no signs of white. “He may have told you his other family members retired after so many years, but it appears he does not believe those rules apply to him.”
“Careless, cocky bastard,” Amelia whispered as she studied each of the images with a growing anger. “And a vampire. I never would have believed they existed.”
Colleen chortled. “No? It seems your belief system is selective, then. Of all the strange events and people you’ve witnessed? Truly, you struggle with this?”
“It’s a complete biological change!”
“And you believe when your brother stirs up hurricanes, or I lay my hands on someone and heal them, that those are not biological changes?”
“It’s different. You know it is.”
“Yes, darling, it is different, as all our gifts are. I have known of the de Blancheforts for some time. They are distant relatives, as you know, and have laid claim to a large portion of the River Road real estate market, both past and present. I knew they shared many of our gifts, and I have had meetings and correspondence with several of their modern day family members. In fact, I invited them to send one representative to be on our Collective Council, even, but they declined. But, no, I did not know they were vampires if that was your question. They never trusted me with this detail.”
Amelia shook her head. “I wish I knew why Victor shared it with me. He realized I would be coming home to the present. Why trust me?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He loves you. Love makes us blind, and forgetful of our sensibilities.” Colleen raised a knowing brow.
“He doesn’t even know me,” Amelia snapped, wondering where her anger rested. “But he evidently has no respect for marriage. He ignored Jacob altogether, and if I hadn’t met his wife, I would never have known he had one.”
“Then you must protect yourself,” her mother said, closing the albums. “For it’s obvious now that Victor does not share his ancestors’ good sense in public retirement. He shows up in photos as recent as the eighties, Amelia. And that’s only photographs. If we show these pictures to any Deschanel, I’m willing to venture at least some have seen him today.”
“I don’t believe he’d hurt me,” Amelia defended.
“Hasn’t he already? Your soul had been deeply wounded by the actions of a madman. Your marriage was in jeopardy. He found you in your most vulnerable state and sought to manipulate you for his own aims. Victor may label that action with love, or with care, but he has sent you back to the present frustrated and confused. Your heart is only meant for one man, darling, and that man is not Victor.”
Amelia wandered to the front bay window. Outside, the vast and unending flora blocked her view of the rest of the world, secluding her. She had always, always felt safe here. “Victor is the one who first told me to find my way back to Jacob.”
“Your greatest adversary is always skillful at disarming you, darling. I’m only cautioning you to guard your heart. It’s apparent a part of you does love him,” Colleen said, joining her at the window.
“Nothing intentional,” Amelia countered. “And it doesn’t matter what he made me feel. I’m home, and I would never choose anyone but Jacob. Ever.”
“You almost walked away from Jacob,” Colleen chided.
“I did not!”
“No one understands your heart like your mother,” she returned, kissing the top of Amelia’s head. “If I know you, you strongly considered the possibility that everything that happened pointed to the conclusion you would be better off alone.”
“Maybe,” Amelia conceded, leaning against her mother. “But it was never about being with someone else. I’ve never been in love with anyone else, not once, and I never will. You know that. Before Jacob, I was content to have casual, meaningless relationships. He’s the only one I was willing to change that for, and he always ever will be.”
“I believe that, and I’m happy to hear you also do,” Colleen admitted.
Amelia embraced her mother. Another memory returned to her. “Oh! Something else happened while we were there. I think it might be important.”
“If you think it is, then it is.”
Amelia told her mother about Charlotte LaViolette and the strange scene at the tea party. “I could see Charles not realizing he had a sister, but us? We know everything about the family, don’t we?”
Colleen quickly spun away, nonplussed. “I’ve heard unusual tales of the LaViolettes through history that caught my attention. There was a Storyville madam, also named Charlotte, I believe, who was to johns what Madame LaLaurie was to slaves. It was said she turned them mad. The johns fled the brothel, screaming about things they’d seen, happenings that could not possibly be real. Most went home and took their lives.”
“Holy crap!”
Colleen nodded. “Indeed. I have a file on the family in our archives, with more stories like this, throughout the years. I’ve been watching them, as I track all families who exhibit unusual traits. But I neve
r suspected…”
“What do you think, then? Is it true?”
“I will need to verify, of course, but if you were shown this, there must be some degree of veracity,” her mother answered. “But we must be careful. The LaViolettes are a powerful family, of very strong and dangerous women. They are in our Congress, our city council. They have tendrils in everything. If Charlotte knew they shared Deschanel blood, there must be a reason she never brought it up again.”
“You think they might be enemies, then?”
“If they are, we need to tread very carefully.”
Amelia said her goodbyes to the family. As she prepared to leave, Ashley pulled her aside.
“I want to help you, Mia,” he said. “Christine and the kids are gone, and I can’t see them coming back. Can you?”
Amelia didn’t answer. Christine blamed Ashley for Katie’s death, and even though she was wrong, it was hard to blame her for wanting to protect her remaining children.
“I’ve told Mom I would like to help with the Council. I’ve been filling in for Nicolas while he’s been in Europe, and I think it might be good for me to continue. I’m tired of the financial planning world. I feel like Clark Kent, going to work and pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t do it anymore, and I need to feel beneficial to someone.”
Amelia kissed him. “You’re the only brother I have now. You’ll always be useful to me. I want you to be happy.”
“What I’m trying to tell you is, I want my life to have greater meaning than sitting behind a desk,” Ashley insisted. “I’m not asking for your guidance, I guess I just wanted you to know, our lives are going to be different… with more purpose.”
“Whatever you want, I’ll support you,” Amelia replied and hugged him once more. She only wished he could have come to these realizations sooner. For years, he had lived a life that didn’t ring true, but only he was capable of making that discovery.
“I’ll be staying across the street from you, in Oz’s house, for the time being. I know you don’t need anyone so you can take that look off your face, but I also know you’ve been through some terrible stuff, and I’m not going to be far away. Not this time,” Ashley said. He pulled his jacket from the tree. “If you do need me, Mia, I’ll be there before you can hang up the phone.”
Amelia had run into one other Deschanel before she reached the town car her mother had arranged to take her home.
“Nicolas!” she exclaimed, jogging down the path to embrace him. “Mom said you were overseas with Mercy?”
“I am. This is an illusion. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” he joked as he returned the hug. “I’ve come back to resume my duties on the Council. I think your brother was filling in for me, but he can go back to selling stock to old people, or whatever the fuck he does.”
“But where’s Mercy?”
Nicolas shrugged. His eyes darted around like a man with a reason to be nervous. “Scotland, probably. I don’t know, Amelia. I don’t know a whole lot of anything anymore, to be honest with you.”
Amelia knew better than to ask, but the sadness radiated from him like an aura. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, twisting his lips into a curved smile. “We all knew it wouldn’t last. Nicolas Deschanel is the family bachelor. That’s my role to play. Can’t go changing the order of things this late in the game.”
No, something wasn’t right at all. The words coming from his mouth didn’t match the distress flowing off him in strong waves. “You know where I am if you want to talk, Nic. I mean that.”
Nicolas laughed. “I can’t think of anything I enjoy more than talking about my feelings.”
“I’m serious.”
He looked past her, toward the house, where Colleen surely wasn’t expecting him. “I’m relieved you’re back. I heard Ana was, too, and I think we’ll all sleep better with that chapter behind us.”
Amelia pulled back with a start. “Behind us?”
He planted a kiss in the hollow of her cheek and continued up the path. The swagger in his step was gone… he was much changed. “This is how it should be, I think,” he called back. “All of us back home. We weren’t meant to fight everyone else’s battles. Hell, we aren’t very good at fighting our own.”
DAY
SIXTEEN
XXXIX
The looming Greek Revival on Prytania and Eighth was always supposed to be Ana’s. Augustus began purchasing replacement properties for himself and Barbara back when Ana was still a girl, in preparation for when it would become hers when she started her own family. By the time it seemed less and less likely to happen, Augustus resolved himself to remain there longer, and the other properties stayed quiet.
Built in the mid-eighteenth century, when the boom of American migrants to the Garden District resulted in a period of persistent growth, the home was a gift to the third child of Charles Deschanel, Fitz. Fitz would later assume his rightful ownership as a newly married man with a child of his own, but this occupation would be short-lived, for he and his family perished in a tragic accident when he was only nineteen.
The house stayed empty for years until the trust decided it should belong to the next-in-line heir of every generation. When Charles inherited Ophélie in the early seventies, Augustus was gifted both Vivra sa Vie, a family plantation in Donaldsonville, and Magnolia Grace, one of the most photographed mansions in the Garden District.
Augustus was thrilled to be able to finally bestow this gift upon his daughter. And, despite his lack of complete comfort with the reality of Aleksandr’s birth and growth, he declared he could now rest easy knowing both Vivra sa Vie and Magnolia Grace would stay with his line.
And so Augustus and Barbara moved to their townhouse on Esplanade while Ana, Finn, and Aleksandr assumed their role as heirs of Magnolia Grace.
Although they had been home only a week, Ana and Finn had not let the time go to waste. They spent long nights catching up, and making plans. Top of their list was the agreement they needed to establish a sense of normalcy for Aleksandr.
Traditional school was out of the question, and besides, he didn’t need it. When he’d easily passed the high school equivalency test, they decided college might be the best way to teach him to live in their society. Augustus, never one to miss an opportunity to throw around his weight, went straight to the dean of Tulane. Between his influence, and Ana’s prior tenure there as a professor, Aleksandr was accepted for the following term.
Life moved forward, but at a much different pace.
“Sitting still feels so strange,” Ana said one night, as she traced her finger across the long scar bisecting Finn’s chest and torso. He’d never let any other woman do this. He loved when Ana did. “I’ve been on the move since I ran away to Maine.”
“Would you prefer that?”
Ana’s hand stopped. He could almost see her mind working. “No… I don’t think so. But I have to learn to be myself again. Everything changed at Ophélie when Aidrik saved me…”
She let the words trail off. Some wounds ran too deep.
“In the past year, I’ve become someone else, too, you know,” Finn reminded her. He pulled her long red hair through his fingers, letting it fall against her pale skin in waves. Finn loved doing this. He’d missed it. “Going back to normalcy will be harder in some ways, I think, than it was when we fought against it.”
“I wish we could find you some decent lobster around here,” Ana said with a light sigh. She kissed the top of his chest. “I worry about you being so far from everything you love.”
Finn propped himself up. “Everything?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Ana, come on, now. Of course, I miss it. But sometimes our lives change when we voluntarily choose to follow what makes us happy. There’s no lobster here worth chasing… so what? Louisiana is one of the best fish and wildlife regions in the country. I won’t ever get bored learning and trying new techniques.”
“I’m so
rry,” she said, pressing her face against his skin. “Forgive me. I thought I was past those old insecurities.”
“Nothing to forgive, silly girl. This is a weird time for both of us. We just have to do our best to keep it all together for Aleksei. I don’t know if he’ll ever know what it was like to grow up in a traditional household like we did, but he will at least have some stability.”
“Jon will be home soon, with Anne. Perhaps that will help,” Ana said. Her words rang tentative, though Finn sensed nothing backhanded in them.
“Aleksei likes his uncle,” Finn agreed. “You know we don’t have to see him, Ana. If you don’t want to. You won’t get any pressure from me, and if you said you wanted to cut him out our lives altogether, you know I’d stand behind that.”
“I’ll never forget what he did,” Ana said seeming careful of her word choices. “But our time away from home has given me perspective. Much, much worse has been done to both of us. And he’s good with Aleksei. He needs all the stable influences he can find right now, so, no, I do not want to cut Jon out. But there may be times I can’t join in.”
Finn nodded. “You and Aleksei, Ana. That’s all that matters to me now. The rest of our family can be as big, or as small, as we choose.”
“I know.”
A rainstorm had started while they talked. Finn closed his eyes and listened to the steady, varying patter of drops hitting banana leaves and tropical flowers. No, this wasn’t Maine, but it was beautiful and welcoming in other ways.
Forbia snored at their feet, adjusting. She was happy to be reunited with her master after a trek home on a ship with Nora Quinlan, who’d kindly offered to be the pup’s escort so she could finally spend some time with her brother, Amelia’s father, Noah. Finn wondered how long it would be before the neighborhood busybodies reported them for having a wolf in the house.
“What if…” Ana started. “What if we flew in Fiona?”
The Secrets Amongst the Cypress Page 26