by MI
But still she’d stayed.
Her therapist had told her she’d been suffering from a combination of grief, shock and postpartum depression for the year that followed. She’d praised Etta for spending the next year working her way out of the hole she’d fallen into, trying to survive without any support from the people around her. It had taken courage to call his probation officer when he bragged to her about robbing another convenience store, ensuring his arrest. It wasn’t her fault that another inmate had killed him a few days before she could finally file for divorce. It was just one of those freak things.
That’s what her therapist said. She’d also been kind enough not to mention how much like an episode of Cops Etta’s life had been. Or ask why a smart, good girl like her had ended up in that situation in the first place.
She nuzzled the soft, precious head that smelled like powder and soap, holding back her tears.
A few months later she’d gotten in her car and left Maryland, her parents and her husband’s family behind. She’d driven south for hours, hugging the coastline with no idea where she was going. No idea if she would ever stop.
She ended up at a rest stop in North Carolina, helping a cheerful woman in her sixties transport her veteran husband from the car to his wheelchair. They invited her to share their lunch with them at one of the picnic tables.
After they’d eaten, the man told her the story of how he’d lost his leg in Vietnam but admitted that sometimes he could still feel his toes wiggling. His wife had pointed out a matching set of hummingbirds that were hovering nearby to distract him, making him smile with so much love in his eyes it almost hurt Etta to watch.
It was the strangest thing, but those few hours at that rest stop had changed her life. Set her on the path that she’d been going down full speed ahead for the last six years. She’d left her past and the woman she’d been behind. At least, she’d thought she had.
Christie, her family, Marcella’s baptism… It was bringing everything back up again. All the pain and self-doubt she’d pushed away because it had just been too much.
She’d never told anyone the entire story. Not Patricia or Theresa. Not even Rosie knew the whole truth. Despite all she’d overcome, Etta was still too ashamed and too mad at herself for staying as long as she did. For being that girl, the victim no one ever thinks they’re going to be. For waiting too long and becoming a widow instead of being a strong woman who’d walked away.
She’d changed so much, but it was still there. That little voice in her head that wondered how Christie could really love her if he knew.
She heard the door open and shut behind her, but her face was buried in the smell of baby powder and soap.
Theresa put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Etta. Henrietta, let go,” she said softly. “She’s asleep. You can let go now.”
Etta let her aunt take Marcella from her arms and place her in the bassinet, then take her hand and lead her over sit to the narrow bed. “Sit.”
Theresa joined her, making soothing sounds as she patted her hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I knew, little one. I knew this would be hard.”
She didn’t know all of it.
“I’m sorry,” Etta breathed, pushing back the wave of emotion that had rushed in unexpectedly. “Maybe it would have been better if Celestin had picked someone else for this job.”
Theresa shook her head. “You know how protective my son is. So protective he’ll let a few old women say some ancient words, because he respects them and he’s willing to do whatever it takes for his babies. He could not have picked a better guardian for that child’s soul than you, Henrietta Santos. I’ve known you all your life, and I’ve never seen anyone so resilient and full of love. After all you’ve accomplished in the last few years, all you do every day to help people find the faith and strength to keep going when they’ve lost a vital part of themselves…Henrietta, none of us doubt it. How can you?”
A tear slipped out and Etta lifted her hand to wipe it away. “It still hurts.”
Her aunt pulled her head down to her soft shoulder and rocked her as if she were a child.
“It will hurt,” Theresa murmured. “But there are things that can make it hurt less. Holding your godbaby in your arms. Spending time with friends. You let love in. Let it into your life again, in ways big and small. Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”
Etta heard it in her aunt’s voice—a knowledge that could only come from experience as Theresa continued to speak in the quiet room. “I’ve never lost a child. I won’t even try to imagine the pain of it. But you know…everyone knows how the father of my children behaved. The cheating. The selfishness. The violent, vulgar way he died in the end.” She held Etta closer. “The way other women looked at me for years? The way they judged me? I was so ashamed, Henrietta. For a long time my babies were the only reason I got out of bed. Celestin, Patricia and Angelique—each one of them saved my life and they will never know it. What it’s like to feel alone and ashamed.”
Her voice was hoarse from tears she wouldn’t shed. “I have life around me now. Friends who make me believe in magic again. Who make me laugh. And I have the gift of seeing my children happy. My only regret is that I never looked for someone to make me happy. I believed I only had one chance to get it right. But I know now I was wrong.”
“Oh, Tia.” Etta hugged her tightly in gratitude, pulling back and swiping at her cheeks. “I never knew…”
The older woman’s smile was sad. “Yes, you did. You do. It breaks my heart how well you know me. Better than anyone, I think.”
She was right. Only a woman who had gone through that kind of humiliation could understand. And she also understood what Theresa was trying to say—it was exactly what she’d needed to hear. Etta didn’t want to have regrets. She wanted to be happy.
“God,” she laughed weakly. “We have to stop, or we’ll ruin Marcella’s big day with memories of her godmother weeping. I suppose we should go down to the party. Is there anything weird coming up? Anything I should be prepared for? Voodoo zombies or actual finger sandwiches?”
“Oh.” Theresa stood abruptly and turned to face Etta, her hands covering her mouth.
“Tia, what is it?”
“I can’t believe I—you looked so sad when I came in and I knew why and you were all I could think about.” Theresa threw her hands up in the air. “Someone is here to see you.”
Etta stood up unsteadily, her hand on her racing heart. “Who? Who’s here to see me?”
“There is no way I could tell you that you would understand. Come down and see.”
She wanted it to be Christie.
It was the strangest thing, but it was as if she’d just released all the weight she’d been carrying—her doubts, her fears, the sorrow for her child that had never gone away—in Tia Theresa’s loving arms.
Love. That’s what it was.
She wanted to give her love to Christie.
And if he was down there, she would face her fears again and make another memory.
She would tell him.
***
Celestin’s wife Allegra, a petite blonde with big eyes and freckles, was waiting for them at the top of the stairs with a curious smile. “I was wondering what was taking you two so long. I thought we might have scared Etta away with our witchy ways and ghost stories.”
Etta’s smile was still wobbly, and she had the unfortunate feeling that it was obvious she’d been crying. “You know I’m from here right? I’ve heard all—well most of these stories—before. I hear they tell them on the haunted walking tours.”
Allegra’s grin was charming but her gaze sincere. “I could take you on a tour downstairs in your aunt’s living room that would blow your mind.”
Etta held up her hand. “No, please. I think I got it the first time. The Mamas are for real and most of our party guests have supernatural abilities beyond my comprehension.”
Allegra winked at Theresa. “Sounds about right.”
&n
bsp; Etta took a step down the stairs, looking up at them with skepticism. “This is one of those mystery parties where everyone is playing a fictional character from your books, Allegra, isn’t it? Lie if you have to. I’ll go along. But no matter how many names and weird abilities you throw at me, you will never make me believe that Bone Daddy is actually in this house.”
Allegra slipped her arm around Etta’s waist and squeezed, guiding her down to the bottom of the staircase. “Fine. It’s a mystery baptism party. But Bone Daddy—though I warn you no one calls him that anymore—is here. He’s the one responsible for your cousin and I getting together, which is why your godchild is named for him. He’s standing next to the bookshelves.”
Etta obediently searched for him and almost swallowed her tongue. “You get points for casting. That might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. But for the record, the real Bone Daddy doesn’t come to these kinds of parties. He’s a sex spirit. A legend. Midnight Ryder wrote a song about it, so I know.”
Speaking of Midnight Ryder…who had come to see her? She stood in the doorway of the living room, searching, but she didn’t see a single new face.
She tried to hide her disappointment.
Allegra chuckled. “Not anymore. He’s retired.”
Etta sent her a stern look. “You can never tease Patricia like this. You know that, right? Now, my aunt said someone was here to see me?”
Allegra glanced at her friend Michelle, Mambo Toussaint’s daughter, who nodded. “Near the kitchen.”
Etta turned and headed for her aunt’s kitchen, suddenly aware of how silent the room had become, when she saw a familiar face. “Hey there, stranger! I haven’t seen you in days. Did Angelique invite you?”
Manny was in the same boots and trench coat combo he was wearing in her dream the other night. And he was frowning at her aunt. “What is it?”
She turned to see Theresa lifting her hands helplessly toward her two friends. “She was in pain. I’m her family. I forgot. Has he said why he came?”
Etta frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Celestin came up to her and bent down to look in her eyes. “What do you see? What does he look like?”
Were they all drunk? “Dark hair, trench coat, scowl. But you tell me, since he’s standing right there.” She pointed at him.
Manny sighed. “I’d rather they didn’t see me right now.”
“Then you shouldn’t have come over,” Etta snorted.
Michelle Toussaint-Adair came up to Etta’s aunt and slipped an arm through hers comfortingly. “He’s just here to talk to Etta. She knows him. It doesn’t have to mean more than that.”
“The butler did it!” Etta laughed, wishing she’d had some of what they obviously had while she was upstairs. “Sorry, I’m still working on the theory that this is a mystery party. Is Manny the brooding stranger who arrives right before mayhem ensues?”
“Emmanuel is the one who used to be a ghost, and then he wasn’t, and then he saved Angelique’s life. Now I think he might be angling for BD’s old job.” Angelique’s husband Gabriel spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “But I’ve got no idea why he’s decided to hide in the shadows when we all know he’s there.”
Etta looked back in Manny’s direction in time to see him roll his eyes before he strode up to her and took her arm with a glance at Michelle. “Tell them I need to talk to her alone.”
Michelle repeated his words to the room and Etta rolled her eyes as he dragged her into the kitchen. “Alone? Great. Of course I’m the first one to die. I didn’t even get a character.”
He spun her around to face him and glared. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugged. “No clue. Why is everyone pretending only Michelle can see you?”
“You can see me, too.”
“Yes. Because you’re right here.” She drew the words out, wondering what she was missing. “Is this some elaborate practical joke? I haven’t had the best day of my life, and I was thinking you were somebody else. I can’t promise I’ll react well.”
“I don’t have a lot of time, Etta. You’re running out of it, too. You’re only here for a few more days.”
His words sent a wave of sadness through her. “I know.”
Manny swore. “You’re really leaving then? For good?”
“I still have my ticket.” The force of his disappointment made her frown. If she didn’t know any better she’d think it matched her own. “You’ll find someone else to run with, big guy. I’m not sure why you’re so upset about it.”
“I messed up.” He turned away from her, pacing. “I should have done more.”
“You’re making me nervous, Manny. How did you mess up?”
When she started to back away he shook his head. “I’m not crazy, Etta. But you are if you throw away what you’ve found here. All the love around you. These are good people—the best people I’ve known—and whether you know it or not, you were meant to meet them. And Christie. Do you think something like that happens all the time?”
She leaned heavily against the kitchen’s butcher block island. “How the hell do you know about Christie?”
He moved closer until she looked into his unearthly blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter how I know. You’re here and he’s here because you were meant to be. Because you’re strong enough. You’re ready. And you are each exactly what the other needs.”
She knew. At least, she was starting to figure it out. A feeling had passed through her as he spoke. Something magical. Something too powerful to deny.
She studied his eyes again. “Who are you?” What are you?
He sighed. “After two years, you’d think I’d know the answer to that question. But I don’t. I am your friend. And as a friend, my advice is that you listen to Christie, Etta. Let yourself believe you deserve something good after all you’ve been through. Trust him.”
“It’s not that easy.” But she wanted to try.
Manny smiled, making her realize for the first time how truly handsome he was. “It can be.” He tilted his head. “You have another visitor. I’d better go.”
“Who?” Christie? “Manny, am I still asleep?”
“I don’t think so,” Manny laughed. “There isn’t a shark in sight.”
She blinked and he was gone. He knew about the sharks? Maybe she was dreaming again.
She walked out of the kitchen in a dizzy daze and heard Celestin greet someone before she rounded the corner to the living room. She paused to catch her breath as she listened.
“What are you doing here, Ryder? Not that I mind, I just didn’t know Allegra had invited you.”
“Christie Ryder?” Another male voice, Michelle’s husband Ben Adair this time. “I knew you were back in town but I haven’t gotten the chance to stop by the shop. I’m a big fan. I see you brought your guitar along. Any chance I could convince you to play Daddy Bone? You wouldn’t find a more appreciative crowd.”
“Thanks. Maybe later.” Christie sounded tired. Tired but determined. Her heart started pounding at the sound of his voice. She’d missed it. Missed him. “Sorry about busting in like this, Rousseau. Is Etta here?”
“Etta? When did you mee—”
She stepped around the corner. “I’m here.”
Christie’s stubble was darker, his black hair mussed, but his shoulders relaxed when he saw her. “I told you to take a few days, but it’s been four.”
“I know.”
The rest of the room fell into a strange sort of suspenseful silence when he strode a few steps closer to her. He took a ragged breath. “I tried to be patient, Etta, but I’m just as bad at that as I am at lying. I had to come here, to tell you—”
She moved toward him and reached out to take his hand. He was in pain. A pain she knew she’d caused. All she wanted to do was stop it. “Let’s talk upstairs.”
Everyone was watching them as they walked up the stairs toward her bedroom, but she didn’t care. Right now the only person who mattered was Christie.
He’d come for her, and been ready to stand in the middle of her family and their friends and declare himself. Willing to go through that for her without hesitation and without any guarantees that he wouldn’t be rejected.
Of all the unbelievable things that had happened today—voodoo rituals and invisible friends—that might top them all.
Chapter Ten
The guest bedroom she was staying in was small but comfortable. Or it had been before she’d stopped spending her nights with Christie. As she led him into the room, she realized the reason it had changed. It was just a room with the bed she couldn’t sleep in because he wasn’t beside her.
How could it have happened so fast? She’d made her resolution. She’d had a plan. Get the cover-up and the next time she had the chance, she’d say yes when someone asked her on a date. She’d planned to go on a lot of first dates when she imagined life without her old tattoos. To kiss countless frogs before she found someone she felt this way about. Someone it would be easy to fall with.
He was standing in the middle of the room, still inexplicably attached to his guitar, looking every bit the handsome, bedraggled bad boy in his snug black thermal shirt and jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it more than it had been, and Etta sighed. There was a lot of competition in this house tonight, but he was still the sexiest man she’d ever been within touching distance of.
Falling for Christie was as easy as breathing. But her fears and surprise at the intensity of her feelings had all bubbled up to the surface when he told her he was falling. That conversation hadn’t been easy at all, and it was her fault.
She’d already been thrown by his confession, but for some reason, she’d gotten defensive. Angry. Not just at him but at herself. That he’d seen her weakness.
Her doubts had transformed into vile words that she wished every day since she could take back.
He’d reacted as though she’d slapped him, but he hadn’t traded barbs. Hadn’t raised his voice or his hand to her. Instead, he’d offered her time. Time she’d spent missing him and wondering why she’d chosen that moment to be cruel—to the one man who deserved it the least.