“Is Pleasant dead?” I hated to even ask.
“You know I can’t give away the secrets of the Great Beyond.”
I watched her closely. She was hedging her answer—because she knew the mother was alive. “She’s alive. If you know where she is, you’d better spill it. She deserves to know her baby is safe.”
“What if she doesn’t care?”
“I don’t think that’s the case, Jitty. I think Rudy Uxall stole Libby. Now why he did such a thing, only to leave the baby on my doorstep, I can’t answer. But I’m going to find out. That’s one thing I promise you. And if Pleasant doesn’t want her child, maybe she will let Tinkie and Oscar adopt her.”
“What about you? You found her.”
Jitty had baby fever worse than Tinkie. “She’s a baby, not a cookie. It isn’t finders keepers. Tinkie and Oscar can give the baby things I can’t. They’ve made an appointment for her at Boston Children’s Hospital. That’s way out of my reach.”
“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”
Jitty was wise beyond her years—and she was old. “I’m a single person with a job that requires long absences. Tinkie and Oscar can afford a private nanny or whatever Libby needs.”
“And what about love? Who can give that the best?”
The question stopped me, because it was one that needed an answer. “I don’t think Tinkie can love her better than I can. Love can’t be quantified that way. I think Tinkie will choose to make the time to love her.” I squared my shoulders. “I don’t know that I’m ready to make that sacrifice yet. Libby deserves someone who is ready.”
I almost cringed, expecting the barrage of recriminations Jitty was sure to fire off. From the first day I’d come home to Dahlia House, she’d been all over my ass to get pregnant and have an heir. Libby wasn’t my flesh and blood, but if she was adopted, she’d be the legal heir. There would be Delaneys to reside in Dahlia House for the future.
“Your mama said the same thing when she got pregnant, Sarah Booth.” Jitty had grown pensive, and the Ma Barker persona was again replaced with the mocha-tinted beauty of my haint. “I remember when she told your daddy she was pregnant. She worried that she wouldn’t have the focus to be a good mother. She wanted to accomplish things, to fight for justice, to organize literacy groups, and if she were alive right now, she’d be fighting against the corporate chemical companies that spray poison over the cotton. But when push came to shove, she chose you.”
I’d never doubted the love my parents had shown me. One of the bitterest realities of life was summed up in one of Aunt Loulane’s old adages—you can’t miss what you’ve never had. And I had had that rarest of things, complete and unconditional love. And, boy, did I miss it.
“Why didn’t they have another child?”
“I don’t know. It would have been easier for you—their death—if you’d had a brother or sister to share the sorrow. Loulane was a godsend and a remarkable woman, but she was an older generation. Young grief is the most intense and the most damaging. As we age we learn to handle loss with more ease, because we’ve accepted the process. We are born to die. But to a young person, that kind of death is like being skinned alive.”
Jitty was far wiser than even I’d suspected. “I wish I’d had a sister.”
“Aunt Loulane would have been institutionalized.” The pity party was over. Jitty was back on track, reminding me that I could be a pain in the butt. “Two children as headstrong as you, it would have put her in the hospital.”
“Maybe I would have been the evil one and the other would be the good sister.”
“Not a chance. Your mama encouraged you to be independent and to get things done. That combination always leads to a willful, determined child. A sibling would have been no different. But just know that you were chosen. You were wanted from the moment of conception. Libby and James Franklin could have done things differently, but they didn’t. You were their heart the moment you entered the world.”
“I want that for little Libby, too. I don’t know that I’m ready to give it. Maybe I’m afraid to love with all of my heart again.”
“You won’t have a choice, Sarah Booth. When the time is right, you’ll fall in love again. Whether it’s a man or a child, it will be out of your control, and it will happen.”
Jitty didn’t predict the future, but I didn’t doubt her words. “Thank you.”
“Even if Tinkie keeps that baby, it’ll get your maternal juices working. I say by New Year’s, you’ll be searching for a mate. The only thing you’ll have in mind is flinging him down on that big four poster and riding him like a wild monkey in the circus.”
“Jitty!” The image she gave me was shocking—coming from her. But it shouldn’t have been. In her day, I’ll bet Jitty sashayed around the men and drove them nuts until she settled on Coker, the man who stole her heart and lost his life with my great-great-great-grandfather on a blood-soaked battlefield.
“Don’t you Jitty me! I’m privy to some of your thoughts, Missy. The things you do with that lawman and his cuffs! And Scott Hampton, I get goose bumps thinking about those fantasies. You’d like that man to run your frets!”
“Stop it!” It was extremely unfair that Jitty could read my mind and invade my personal fantasies. “This is too much, Jitty. You’ve crossed a line. You cannot bore into my head like a Japanese beetle into a pine.”
“I always knew you were a blockhead.” She was way too pleased with that jab.
“I mean it, Jitty. I can’t do this. If you’re able to read my most private thoughts, that leaves me nowhere to go.” I was truly upset. “I don’t mind you poking and prodding me to get laid or procreate or snatch up some lusty sperm before my eggs decay. I can take that. I can even put up with your constant sexual advice. But you cannot get into my fantasies.”
At last her grin slipped away. “You’re really mad, aren’t you?”
“I am. I have to have some privacy. Even from you.”
“What if I told you I couldn’t read your thoughts?”
“Then how did you know about Coleman and Scott?”
The grin returned, lighting up her entire face. “What if I told you I was a mighty good guesser and that any woman who wasn’t dead below the waist would be thinking exactly those same thoughts.”
I had her. Joy of joys, at last. “So that’s what you would like to do with Coleman and Scott?”
“And what if it is?” She was almost aglow with mischief. “Maybe when the moment comes I’ll whisper a little inspiration in your ear.”
“You stay out of my bed and my head! I can manage very well on my own.”
“The proof of that is in the puddin’, as your aunt Loulane would say.”
It was time to end this conversation. When Jitty was quoting Aunt Loulane to me, my wisest course of action was to cut and run.
“Madame Tomeeka is coming over here to have a séance tonight. Maybe she can find Pleasant Smith. I want you to stay clear. No funny business, no knocking or clapping or fluttering of curtains. Tammy already suspects you’re here.”
“Would it be such a terrible thing if she knew?”
“I don’t know. What if you disappear if others know about you?”
She eyed me with calculation. “You care. You don’t want me to leave.”
“Sad as it is, you are my family, Jitty. I don’t know what I’d do if you disappeared, too.”
She nodded and slowly began to fade. “I’ll be back,” she whispered in a thick Schwarzenegger-style accent. And she was gone.
7
Millie arrived first with trays of hot chicken potpies from the café. She was the best cook in ten states. Since I’d returned home, she made a point of dropping by with delicious dishes, and she always brought enough for Sweetie.
I’d made my famous pimento cheese spread and put it on celery stalks and crackers. I also had wine ready for the after-séance social. First, though, I wanted to see if Madame Tomeeka could get a line on Pleasant.
She was going to ask the spirits for help locating the teen. We were also scrying for the missing girl with a crystal and a map. Cece was bringing a large map of the area, including Nashville and New Orleans, another hot music scene. If we were lucky, the crystal, when suspended over the map on a silver chain, would be drawn to Pleasant’s location.
My guests arrived, and Libby, dressed in a leopard print onesie with matching booties, was the object of adoration. She wore a black bow in the sheaf of red hair that crowned her little head. I’d never seen a baby with such a head of hair, but as Jitty would quickly point out, I didn’t have a lot of experience with infants. Much oohing and aahing ensued as everyone held the baby. I had to admit that Libby handled the strangers and attention with joy. She cooed and grinned, and each little sound or movement brought her adult audience to our knees. One seven-pound baby had slain a room full of very tough adults.
By six o’clock, we were seated around the tiger oak table in the music room. My mother had used it for cards and board games when I was a child, and it was perfect for the gathering with Cece, Millie, Harold, Tinkie, and Scott. Oscar had opted to keep the baby in the den so he could watch a football game.
Tammy went over the rules of the séance. We were to hold hands, not break contact no matter what happened, and to remain silent at all times. “Our only goal is to find Pleasant Smith,” she said. “If the spirits will help us in this endeavor, we’ll be forever grateful.”
I half expected Jitty to pop up and make life difficult for me, but she didn’t. I didn’t hear so much as the jangle of her silver bracelets or the ruffle of the curtains at the window.
I watched the faces of my closest friends as they concentrated to help me find a missing girl. How many people could say they had such loyal supporters. I felt someone’s gaze and discovered Harold staring at me. He gave a long wink. Someone’s foot nudged mine under the table. Scott cut me a look. I nudged him back and then moved my leg. Playing footsie with the sexy blues guitarist might be a lot of fun, but our goal was to find Pleasant Smith and I couldn’t allow a distraction.
I’d lit a series of candles in a circle in the center of the table, and as Tammy asked for spirit guidance, the candles guttered, as if a sudden wind had disturbed their flame.
“Sarah Booth, who is in this house with you?”
For a moment I was speechless. “Uh, no one. Who would be here? Just the critters.”
Tammy opened her eyes and captured me in a steady examination. “You have a spirit here, someone who is watching over you. You’re protected. Your mother has seen to that.”
“If dead folks can watch over someone, then I’m sure Mama and Daddy are looking out for me.” I hated lying to Tammy and all of my friends, but Jitty was someone I couldn’t share. What if once I exposed her, she disappeared? Then I would be all alone.
Tammy only chuckled. “One day, you’ll tell me who is here. She’s so strong, I know you’re aware of her. Until then, let’s find that baby’s mama.”
Every person around the table watched the scene with curiosity. How many of my friends had sensed Jitty? Tinkie, for sure. Cece, probably. But now wasn’t the time. “Absolutely, let’s dive in. Libby’s mother is our first priority.”
Tammy closed her eyes and inhaled. For several long moments, there was only the sound of our breathing. The sense that someone else had joined us came over me, and I knew it wasn’t Jitty.
“Rochelle,” Tammy said. “Thank you for coming to assist us. We’re seeking a young mother. She may be in serious trouble.”
Tammy nodded as if she were agreeing with something. I looked around the table to see everyone spellbound, perfectly still.
“Rochelle is a spirit I work with often,” Tammy said. Her eyes were closed and her voice had little inflection. Had I not known that she’d entered a trance state, I would have called Doc Sawyer on the spot. “She heard my request. She doesn’t know anything about Pleasant, or how to find her, but she will see if there is help for us on the other side.”
I wondered—if Tammy could contact a spirit like Rochelle, could she also contact Jitty, if she chose? Did Rochelle have to make herself available?
“Help me, please.” The voice that came from Tammy’s body was that of a terrified girl.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
“My baby. My baby. Help me. He’s going to kill me.” The young woman sobbed as she spoke.
Tammy started forward and gulped down air. “Thank you, Rochelle.” She inhaled deeply again.
“Is the baby’s mother dead?” Tinkie asked. “You can only call spirits at a séance. So is she dead?”
Tammy shook her head. “The vision was a gift from Rochelle. She is a protector of young women and children. I can only tell you what I saw. The young woman looked out a very dirty window. She put her hands to the glass and left bloody prints. I could feel her emotions. She’s terrified. She is all alone, but she is very much alive. She has the sense that time is running out for her, though.”
“Where is she?” Scott and Harold asked.
Tammy only shook her head. “Woods all around. It could be anywhere in the area, or it could be a million other places. She was bundled up, so she is cold. Let me try to connect with anyone who can give more specific information.”
She went through the ritual of quieting herself again. When her posture shifted and her head dropped back, I knew she’d connected.
“I have a young man here,” Tammy said, and her voice and posture changed, though she never left the chair. “He’s confused and lost. He hasn’t accepted that Death has taken him.”
The hairs on my arms began to tingle.
“He doesn’t remember his name, but he has a message. He’s saying ‘baby’ something. ‘Baby girl.’ He’s showing me a symbol. Milk. It’s a gallon of milk.”
My body tensed, I couldn’t help it.
“He’s fading in and out, and I can’t understand him because he’s so disoriented, but he has something urgent he needs to share.” Tammy struggled, her brow furrowed. “I see water. Still water. Cypress knees. Green, green, green.” She ducked her head as if to escape something. “So much green. Help her.”
She snapped out of the trance. “I’m sorry, he’s gone.” She tilted, almost falling out of the chair, but Scott caught her and steadied her. “Could I have some water?”
Tinkie, choking back a sob, jumped up and went to the kitchen. Tammy reached over and touched my hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more specific.”
“It’s okay, I think I understood some of it.” We were all acutely aware of Tinkie’s distress. “Pleasant had gone to buy a gallon of milk when she disappeared. I think she’s alive, maybe living somewhere tropical. Somewhere with lots of green plants and leaves.”
Tammy gave me a nod of approval. “Those are the images I got. A place lush and isolated.”
“She not only abandoned a baby, she left a budding music career,” I said, telling them about Pleasant’s songwriting and acquisition of a Nashville agent to represent her work. “If she’s alive and surrounded by woods and green, I don’t think she’s there voluntarily.” The case had suddenly taken on a much more dangerous hue.
“I agree,” Scott said. “Do you think the young man trying to communicate with us was Rudy Uxall, the young man who bled to death? He did leave the baby on the porch. Maybe he was trying to save her.”
“From what?” Tinkie put a glass of ice water in front of Tammy.
“There was danger,” Tammy said. “The young man couldn’t explain it. He simply was too confused. He’s not even certain he’s dead. His perception of everything is skewed, but Scott could be right. There was a sense of urgency in his agitation that had nothing to do with his situation.”
Rudy Uxall was a good lead, and one I would follow up on in the morning. I hadn’t gotten a definitive answer, but I’d been prodded in a direction. That was the best any private investigator could ask for.
“Let’s adjourn and get some food,
” I suggested. The scrying session would have to wait until another time. Tammy’s unsteadiness concerned me. The session had drained her of energy.
Tinkie shot up out of the room and rushed to find Oscar and the baby as if she were afraid they’d vanish into thin air.
Scott, who’d remained unusually silent during the evening, came up behind me and rubbed my shoulders with strong fingers. I sighed in relief.
“You’ve got more knots than a sailors’ rope-tying class,” he said, digging deep into the muscle. “If I had half a day, I could work them out.”
My shoulders had just begun to relax when Cece sidled over to us. “That’s not the thing about Sarah Booth that needs working out. In my expert opinion, she is desperate for a good man to jerk the kinks out of her.”
“Cece! Just because you’re happy with Jaytee doesn’t mean you can diagnose what I need.”
“Oh, baby girl, everyone in town has diagnosed what you need.” She laughed, and Scott joined in.
“I’d be happy to volunteer, Sarah Booth. My contribution to your … health.”
“Don’t gang up on me,” I warned them.
Cece ran a perfectly manicured hand through my short, short hair. “I prefer your long curls, but this isn’t so bad. Tinkie’s hairdresser did an amazing job with that burned-up thatch you had on your head.”
“Yes, she did.”
Scott rumpled my hair, too. “It’ll grow back. And I still owe you, Sarah Booth. You risked your life and saved the club from burning to the ground.”
“Yes, she’s brave about everything except love,” Cece said. “Tammy, any predictions for when Miss Delaney might take a trip to the wedding chapel?”
“I don’t have any insight into that,” Tammy said.
“You leave Sarah Booth alone.” At least Millie came to my defense. “It takes time to heal a heart. Give her a chance to get her balance back.”
“Sarah Booth isn’t a girl, she’s a grown woman. She’ll find her way,” Harold said. “She knows we all have her best interest at heart.”
“I’m not talking about a career move,” Cece said, hands on hips. “I just think she ought to get laid. Makes life so much more enjoyable!”
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