Sweet Unrest

by Maxwell, Lisa

  “If only,” I said softly to myself.

  He smiled, but tucked his hands into his pockets as we walked back into the house. When I’d locked up and he’d finally settled himself on the couch, we said an awkward good night.

  “Sleep well, Lucy,” he said with a sad sort of smile. “Dream of me.”

  As if I had any choice.

  Twenty-Seven

  That night, while Alex kept watch, I dreamed again of Armantine. She stood in front of Jules’s desk, her hands clasped before her, her head bowed.

  “You’re more a fool than I thought, girl.” Jules paced the floor. “That boy could make you rich. He could make us powerful.”

  She chewed her lip as she watched the older man wear a path across the faded carpet, and wondered for the first time if maybe she wasn’t making a mistake.

  “He’s asking to marry you,” Jules said, scrubbing a hand through his short, graying hair in frustration. “I’ve never made you do anything you’re not comfortable with, so I’m asking you this now: do you want to be his wife?”

  She sighed, her chest warm at the thought. “More than anything,” she whispered softly. “I love him, Uncle.” But to give up everything she knew, everything she was? The question came back to her, unbidden, again and again.

  “Then go with him,” Jules said decisively.

  She stood and went to the window. The street below was already bustling with people out to do their daily marketing or calling on their neighbors. She loved her city, but everything had changed. She’d walked her favorite streets with Alex. Her favorite cafes were now places simmering with memories of them together. Once he left, those places would be reminders of him, of what she could have had. Her city wouldn’t be the same, and she wondered if her love for it would remain.

  “He can’t marry me.”

  “Not here, no. But you said he offered to take you to France?”

  She nodded. “But what if he doesn’t marry me once we arrive?” she asked in a small voice. “What if I leave my home only to have him change his mind on the voyage? Or once we arrive? I would be trapped in a strange land with no friends and no one to help me return. I’d be ruined.” She blinked back tears.

  Jules frowned. “If you don’t think you can trust him—”

  “No, Uncle, it’s not that. He is perhaps the most honorable man I’ve ever known, other than you, of course.” Her hand came up to grasp the locket Alex had given her. “I believe he loves me now, but what if that changes when we leave here?” Josephine had implied things about Alex, about the time he’d spent in Paris. Armantine felt the familiar anxiety bubbling up again at the thought of being left alone in a strange country. “Being here has been a great adventure for Alex. He believes he loves me, but once we arrive in France—”

  “You doubt yourself, then,” Jules said, understanding dawning in his voice.

  “I doubt the situation, Uncle.”

  “Then you must change the situation, my girl. If you want him, that is.”

  She looked at him in blank confusion, wondering what she could possibly do to change the situation she had been born into.

  “You fear he will be inconstant,” Jules went on. “That he will decide not to marry you once you leave here.” He shrugged. “There are ways to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t sign any contract.”

  Jules chuckled. “You always have been a practical sort, my girl. But I wasn’t talking about a contract.”

  “Then what?”

  “There’s an old conjure woman who lives out on the River Road. Not too far from his family’s place, I think.” He pulled a small, thin cigar from his jacket pocket and made a show of lighting it and taking a few slow drags before he went on. “She’s helped me in the past. She might have your answers.”

  Armantine remembered the day Solomon drove her back to the city. That day, Thisbe had held hope up like a poisoned apple, daring Armantine to take a bite.

  “You think I should go to some old Hoodoo woman?” The surprise in her voice was evident. “I thought you were a man of science, Uncle.”

  “I am, I am,” he said, taking another deep drag on the sharp-smelling cigar. “But you don’t need science, girl. What you need is a heavy dose of hope. A little magic couldn’t hurt when it comes to that. You think about it.” He glanced down at his watch when a knock sounded at the door. “But for now, I think our ten o’clock appointment is here.”

  Armantine did think. She turned the idea over in her mind for two days, convincing herself of one decision and then hours later changing her mind, but she was running out of time. Finally, it was the thought of Alex leaving—of what it would be like to watch him turn from her and know she would never see him again—that had her traveling up the River Road toward Le Ciel on a wickedly hot day in August.

  It took Armantine most of the morning to make her way in the heat. It was well past noon before she finally came to the small grove of trees where the old woman lived. Brilliantly colored bottles hung from bright red cords and danced in the wind to welcome her. But the dark shadows thrown by the trees in the grove sent a chill down her spine.

  She squared her shoulders. She had made her decision. She would have Alex, and she would be assured that he would not leave her as so many protectors left their women. She would keep his love—with Thisbe’s help.

  She wasn’t quite to the wide, shady porch when a figure appeared in the dark doorway. “Took you long enough, child,” Thisbe said. The old woman gestured for Armantine to come up. “Come on, then. We have work to do.”

  The inside of the cottage was surprisingly luxurious. The walls were washed with a pristine white and fine furniture was organized to give the effect of comfort and wealth. It was all so much more than a woman in Thisbe’s position should have had that Armantine gasped in surprised. The old woman glanced at her and chuckled knowingly.

  “People are generous when they’re thankful, and most people around these parts have been thankful to ol’ Thisbe one time or another.” She winked. “Maybe someday, when you’re a great lady in that big old house, you’ll be thankful, too.” She motioned for Armantine to keep walking, and they made their way to the back of the cottage.

  The hall opened up to a large room. Unlike the front of the house, this room was furnished for function. I recognized the room instantly, but the shelves were now lined with bottles of dried flowers and herbs that reminded me of the ones in Mama Legba’s shop. A low fire burned in the hearth despite the warmth of the day.

  “I have to admit, I thought you’d come sooner,” Thisbe told her as she slowly gathered supplies from her cabinets.

  “I’m still not sure why I’m here,” Armantine confessed.

  “Now that’s not the truth, not at all. You know exactly why you came to see me. You’re here for the same reason girls have been coming to me for years now.” She grinned, a gapped-tooth smile that made Armantine cringe. “You found yourself a beau, and you want to make sure you keep him.”

  Armantine felt her face flush.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, girl.” She sat down across from Armantine at the table. “We women have to do what can be done to make our way in this world. But you need to be sure before we start. My services aren’t cheap, and they can’t be undone.”

  Armantine swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sure,” she said.

  “Well, then. This is what we’ll do—I work on the spirits for you, and then later, when you have your heart’s desire, you pay me in kind. Understand?”

  “How much?”

  “You’ll know when the time comes.” Thisbe set a small stick of bloodred wax on the table.

  “What will you do?”

  “A simple binding spell—a love charm,” Thisbe told her. “I will need somethin’ from the person you love, though.” The old woman held out her hand and waited.

  Hesitantly, Armantine removed the locket from her neck and handed it to Thisbe. The old woman r
aised her brows in surprise, then let out a whoop of delight when she opened the locket and found the hair inside. “This is gonna be good, child. You sure did come prepared.”

  Cackling, the old woman held up the locket so that it glinted red in the firelight. “This spell will hold him tight, girl.” The way she was gazing at the necklace, like it was some rare and treasured prize, sent a trickle of unease down Armantine’s spine.

  Thisbe pulled a knife out of the soft sack she had brought to the table. It reminded Armantine far too much of the knife they’d found with Lila. A clear vision flashed in her mind at the sight of it—her body instead of Lila’s running its blood into the ground—and she started to stand up. But she was unsteady on her feet and tumbled back into the chair.

  “Settle down, now,” Thisbe said dismissively. With a movement quicker and surer than Armantine expected the old woman to be capable of, she reached out and deftly severed a lock of Armantine’s hair. She took the lock and twined it around the golden strands from the locket. Carefully, she took a candle and lit it in the smoldering fire, melted some of the wax, and let it drip onto the intertwined hair, creating a misshapen lump to serve as a charm.

  As the wax was drying, she went to a small cabinet and unlocked it with an old skeleton key. She brought back a small ball of crimson string, threaded it through a rough-looking needle, and handed it to Armantine.

  “Love magic works best when it’s done by the parties involved. You take this here thread and pierce the charm while you ask the spirits to bind his love to yours.” She motioned for Armantine to take it. “Go on, child.”

  With shaking hands, Armantine took the needle and the lump of wax. She looked at it hesitantly before finally closing her eyes and running the needle through the still-warm clump. “Bind his love to mine,” she whispered with shaking breath. A cold breeze rustled through the room and she opened her eyes, shaken by a strange sensation crawling across her skin that felt like the pricking of a thousand tiny pins.

  Thisbe nodded and took the charm, the needle still stuck through it. With a few deft movements, she looped the thread around and tied it off, then tucked the clump of wax-covered hair back into the locket.

  “You hold this charm, you hold him,” she told Armantine. “You keep it close to you, girl. You’re all wrapped up in this too now.”

  Armantine glanced up, surprised.

  “A love charm isn’t a one-way binding,” Thisbe said. “You understand?”

  When she nodded, Thisbe handed the locket to her. Armantine held it in her hands like it had suddenly become extraordinarily delicate. “He’ll love me forever now?” she whispered, her voice thick with hope.

  The old woman cackled again, a dry wheezing sound like nails across glass. “Love is or it isn’t, but this here charm will keep him with you. The love is up to you.”

  “But I thought—” Panic rose in Armantine’s throat like bile. She understood suddenly that she had made a very grave and very dangerous mistake.

  “They always think that.” The old woman pursed her lips and shook her head dismissively. “You go on now. I have things to do.” She turned back to her jars and bins, effectively dismissing Armantine.

  On shaky legs, Armantine walked back to the city. The day was blistering but the heat never touched her. She was too cold to feel it.

  The sun slanted through my open blinds, waking me as I struggled to break free of the dream. The house was quiet, and all at once I remembered why.

  “T.J.” I jumped up and got ready quickly, forgoing a shower so I could get to the hospital faster. I’d already wasted too much time.

  I came around the corner into the living room and stopped short. Alex was there, sprawled on our worn leather sofa, one long leg tumbled onto the floor, his arm propped behind his head. His dark lashes rested peacefully on his cheeks and his mouth was slack with sleep.

  My heart beat steadily in my chest. There were no trumpets, no choirs of angels to mark the moment, no feeling like I was tumbling into a dangerous or exhilarating free fall. It was quiet—no more than the whisper of a click, like the pins falling in the tumbler of a lock. Just like that, the tilt of my world righted itself.

  I loved him.

  All along, I’d been wrestling with the fear that my response to him was simply a response to what I’d felt as Armantine. I hadn’t trusted my own attraction to him, or what I felt when he was near me. That morning, I saw everything in a new light.

  It didn’t matter that his heart belonged to another. It didn’t matter that I would never feel the strength of his arms, the warmth of his kiss. For that moment and for every moment after, I knew what I felt was real. True. The thought should have been terrifying—a leap into a dangerous unknown—but the knowledge settled in my chest and eased the tension that had been there for who knows how long.

  “Alex?” I said quietly, not wanting to startle him. I came a little closer and called his name again, watching as his eyes fluttered open.

  “Lucy?” His voice was thick with sleep.

  “I didn’t realize ghosts needed rest,” I said, smiling softly down at him.

  “I enjoy sleeping,” he said unapologetically.

  “I know,” I told him, thinking of that day I’d found him by the pond and wishing, just as I had then, that I could touch him. “I have to go, Alex. My parents will be waiting for me.”

  He sat up. “I’ll come with you.”

  Twenty-Eight

  The morning was hazy from the rain that had fallen the previous day and evaporated overnight, and the temperature was already climbing into the triple digits when we started toward the city. At one point, Alex went silent, and I glanced over to find him watching the New Orleans skyline draw closer. I was so used to the skyscrapers in Chicago that the grove of shining buildings ahead of us had done little to impress me. But for someone who’d spent the last hundred and fifty years or so on the same small parcel of land, the gleaming windows and soaring heights must have seemed miraculous. Or terrifying.

  “This must be like a strange dream for you.”

  “It is … unsettling,” he agreed. “So much time has passed, and I have only been aware of glimpses of it, trapped as I was.” His gaze darted restlessly from building to building as they grew closer.

  “If it’s too much—” I started to say, but he stopped me.

  “No. I will be with you today, Lucy.”

  “Can anyone else see you?” I asked.

  “No one has before—” He stopped himself. “Except the witch you were with by the pond that day.” He frowned. “I am not exactly sure how that is possible, but it worries me.”

  The hospital was buzzing with activity as we made our way to my brother’s room. When I peeked in, I saw my mom sleeping against my dad’s shoulder. He looked at me over the top of her head and gave me a tired smile.

  “Have you found anything out yet?” I asked quietly, so I wouldn’t wake up my mom.

  He shook his head. It jostled her enough that she groggily came to. “Lucy, honey?” She looked at my dad. “What time is it, Leonard?”

  He gave her a soft kiss on her forehead, a gesture I’d seen a thousand times. This time, the tenderness of it caught in my throat. “It’s time to go home for a while, Sara.”

  “No,” my mom told him. “I need to stay.”

  “Sweetheart, you need to get some rest.”

  “No, Leonard. I need to be here with my baby,” she reached over and clasped T.J.’s hand. Her eyes were shadowed with dark smudges and her skin looked pale.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I can stay for a while,” I told her.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said miserably. “He needs me here.”

  “He needs you to keep yourself well, Sara,” my dad said. “Let’s go back home for a bit. We can rest and wash up and be back here in a few hours.”

  My mom looked like she was going to refuse. “Go on,” I told her.

  She chewed on her lip for a moment and I could tell she wante
d to stay, but my dad was already pulling her to her feet. “I’m not leaving this hospital, Leonard,” she said, pulling away from him. Her eyes rested on T.J. and then on me. “Maybe we could just go down to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat?”

  After they left, I settled into the chair and watched my brother take slow, shallow breaths. His small body looked so frail hooked up to all the monitors and tubes. I’d never seen him so completely still.

  A small knock sounded at the door and stirred Alex and me from our vigil.

  “Lucy-girl?” Mama Legba peeked her head into the room, glancing first at me and then, briefly, at Alex. “I heard about your brother, honey. Can I come in?”

  I looked at Alex, who had gone completely still. I knew he didn’t trust Mama Legba, but I didn’t feel the same way. She’d helped me, and I was starting to trust her. “Sure,” I told her.

  She stepped in and started toward T.J.’s bedside, but with a sharp intake of breath, she halted. Her hand reached out like she wanted to comfort my brother, but rather than touch him immediately, she let her hand hover in the air above him for a long, silent moment. Finally, she took the last few steps to his side and gently took his hand.

  “Poor baby boy,” she said, patting T.J.’s hand. She looked back at me and her voice shook with fear. “They don’t know what happened to him, do they?”

  “No,” I told her. “The tests keep coming back inconclusive.”

  She made a small noise that sounded like agreement. “That’s because what’s wrong with him can’t be found on no tests. He ain’t completely there, child.”

  I looked over at T.J. “Of course he’s there.” I shot Alex a concerned look.

  “No, he’s not.” Mama Legba shook her head.

  I turned to Alex. “What’s she talking about?”

  He looked every bit as confused and concerned as I felt.

  “I’m talking about his soul, child. And I know because I can see them. Same as you can see that boy there, I can see the energy that makes us who we are. Yours still be shining out bright, Lucy-girl, but your brother’s? His ain’t but a dim and fading glow.” Her face was a mask of determination and fear. “You ’member what I told you the other night about the tales of dark magic?”