Portia looks from Patrice to the librarian. “And y’all?”
“I always get an A from the health department,” Patrice says staunchly as if the question is an abomination.
The librarian’s eyes turn to slits. “I’m a library branch connecting to the whole county.”
Portia takes the paper. “Then what do y’all have to worry about?”
“Who’s this?” the librarian asks Maribelle, and not in a nice way.
“Another Louisiana person,” I mutter from my chair.
Portia and Maribelle instinctively know who the other is but they haven’t been introduced. I struggle to rise and TB’s immediately at my elbow, helping. I think to pull away again but now that the anger’s retreating, realize how crazy I’ve been. I thank my husband, then waddle over to the group.
“Portia, this is Maribelle, the owner of the hotel across the street and the soon-to-be owner of the ‘precious herb shop’ next door, not to mention Sebastian’s landlord.”
Patrice huffs and Rude Librarian crosses her arms across her chest.
“Maribelle, this is my sister and one of the finest lawyers in Louisiana.”
“Excuse me,” my sister says. “Finest in the country. I’m well versed in both Napoleonic and common law.”
For some reason, the librarian’s starting to look human. “Napoleonic is the type of law they use in Louisiana,” she tells Patrice.
I can’t stand it anymore. “What is your name?”
Rude Librarian’s demeanor changes drastically. “Kerry Hancock.” She surprises me even further when she begins proudly relating family history. “My grandmother was one of the founding members of Emma’s Cove. She knew Emma Harrington.”
Growing up here might explain her unfriendliness.
“Nice to formally meet you, Kerry.”
She smiles and I’m nearly thrown backward at the sight. And even though Portia’s been reading through the document since the introduction to Maribelle, she doesn’t miss a beat.
“Are y’all suffering from the same weird paranoia as my sister here?”
Maribelle’s head juts up and the two make a knowing eye contact.
“Wow,” I’m thinking. Who knew my witchy future sister-in-law – if Sebastian doesn’t screw it up — and my sister with the rod of steel for a spine would instantly be a match? Maybe Portia, who insists she doesn’t own magical powers like other members of the family, is holding out on me.
“They have no case,” Portia tells us all, handing the paper back to Kelly. “This looks like the developers wanting Maribelle’s land are putting pressure on members of the city council and they’re trying to intimidate you.”
“But they say we’re in violation,” Patrice insists. “And Touché is working with them.”
“They say you may be in violation,” Portia says. “Who’s Touché?”
“A prominent doctor in town who bankrolls a lot of the council members,” Patrice explains. “He practically runs Lightning Bug. He alone could shut us down.”
“Not if you have all the proper permits and paperwork and you passed health inspections.” Portia looks at Kelly. “And crap, you’re part of the county-wide library system. You can’t let fear rule your logic. They have no case.”
Kelly shakes her head. “The library’s been threatening to close our branch for years, supported by the city council. They say we don’t have the numbers to justify the branch but our numbers are pretty strong. They chalk it up to budget cuts.”
“I’ve always said we should privatize the library,” Patrice says. “Screw them.”
“We can’t afford it.”
“We can do anything. We always have.”
The two begin arguing and Maribelle holds up her hands for silence like a kindergarten teacher.
“This is exactly what he wants us to do. How he wants us to react.”
Everyone stops talking and I catch my breath wondering what Maribelle will reveal. With all eyes on my motel witch, Maribelle drops her shoulders and offers a sad smile. “I should have brought more wine glasses.”
We make our way to the center of the building, TB pulling out chairs and placing them in a semicircle around the fireplace. Portia finds some extra glasses at the bar and Maribelle opens the wine.
“I’m on duty in an hour,” Kelly says, turning down a glass.
Maribelle places a glass in her hands. “You’re going to need this.”
“No one comes in the library, anyway,” Patrice says with a smug grin.
Finally, Sebastian appears, carrying a platter of steaming goodness and several plates and forks. Everyone oohs and aahs but I notice that he fails to acknowledge Maribelle, doesn’t offer his usual kisses and affectionate name calling. Since their lovey dovey stuff drives me to puke, I relish the break, but something’s not right here. When he sits as far from Maribelle as he can, I’m worried.
I choose the seat next to him and whisper in his ear. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Me? You’re the one who went off the deep end.”
“I’m sorry. Truly. But why are you acting this way?”
“Ask her.”
Sebastian’s last words are uttered loudly enough for Maribelle to hear. Everyone stops talking and helping themselves to pasta and glances over. For the first time since she arrived, Maribelle’s countenance falters.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” I say, hoping we can clear the air and find a way to move forward together.
Everyone settles into their chairs with plates in their laps and glasses of wine at their feet. Maribelle and Sebastian send emotional glances at each other and TB takes my hand.
“You okay?” my husband asks.
I nod and try to appear normal. My anger has dissipated — thank goodness — but I don’t feel well, my head still splitting and my stomach roiling. I think Maribelle’s right about seeing my doctor again. Twins can pose a real threat to a mother and Doctor Mahoney insisted I take it easy, get off my feet, and avoid stress of any kind. Like that’s going to happen in my life.
I place the plate of food on the floor near my glass of water. “Why don’t I start?”
I explain how I came to know Dwayne, how he almost killed me in Natchez and how, even though he escaped from police after TB saved me, thought he was gone from my life for good.
“He’s a terrible man,” TB adds. “And he’s dead bent on getting back at Vi and me.”
Sebastian nods toward TB. “We think he caused TB’s accident yesterday.”
Patrice and Kelly look from me to Sebastian to TB.
“I don’t understand,” Patrice says. “Why does he want to hurt y’all? With the FBI sitting out front, you’d think he would be anywhere but here.”
I exhale a long breath, lean my head back, and close my eyes. The thought of Dwayne watching our home, thinking of ways to harm my family frightens me to the core. Maybe TB’s right, I should give up this crazy life and seek refuge in my parents’ house in New Orleans. Then I wouldn’t be sitting here explaining the insanity surrounding my life to a group of panic-filled women.
“The thing is,” I finally begin, “I’m a SCANC. It means….”
“You see specific apparitions due to a trauma you’ve experienced,” Kelly inserts. “Among other things.”
I never stop being surprised at how many people know who we are.
Kelly shrugs. “I’m a librarian descended from a group of unique women.”
“Living among witches,” Maribelle adds with a smile.
Another thing I fail to get used to, women admitting to being witches.
“Anyway, I see ghosts who have died by water because of Hurricane Katrina,” I continue. “But Dwayne was interested in me because….”
I glance at TB but he’s shaking his head slightly so no one catches on. It’s one thing to see ghosts, quite another for people to learn that angel descendants are walking the earth. My own husband didn’t tell me who he was and the way he’s looking at me now, I kn
ow he prefers it to remain secret.
“Dwayne taps into the spirits of ghosts as they are transitioning,” I explain instead. “He uses it somehow.”
I leave out my belief that Dwayne’s stealing souls for his own immortality.
“Weird,” Patrice says.
“He wants me to transition someone.” Now, I look at Maribelle who immediately sits up straight in her chair. “I don’t think he’ll go away until I do that for him.”
“No,” she states firmly.
This gets Portia’s attention. “What?”
“Yeah, what?” asks Kelly.
Maribelle leans forward, elbows on her knees. “Vi has seen the ghost of my husband in the woods next to her houseboat.”
“Your husband’s dead?” Portia asks, looking from Maribelle to Sebastian, but my brother is too busy staring into the bottom of a wine glass.
“The FBI thinks he was murdered,” I tell her. “They suspect Maribelle.”
All eyes turn to the town witch.
“And they have lots of reasons why,” she answers with a grim smile.
Maribelle explains the suspicious death of her parents, how they changed their will before perishing in that horrid basement resulting in her inheriting several million dollars.
“The rest you know,” she continues. “I moved here, bought this property and the motel and woods and started practicing midwifery on the side. Jack followed me here to convince me to stay married to him.”
She glances at Kelly. “I wasn’t here, what, a few months before he showed up.”
Kelly nods. “Four months maybe?”
“And nothing I could do would make him leave. He was a good man, but so possessive. When he lost his job, I let him have a back motel room and he helped with yard work and renovations.” The memory takes hold and she turns silent.
“What happened after that?” Portia says, bringing her back.
Now it’s Maribelle’s turn to gaze into her empty glass of wine. “He disappeared. We had terrible argument. I thought he had gone into town to drown his sorrows or….”
“Or?” Portia asks.
She looks up, smiling grimly. “I was hoping he had left and gone back to Rhode Island.”
“They found him in the lake,” Patrice says. “Wound on the head.”
It begins to rain again, a soft patter on the trees outside. In the distance, faint thunder rolls. We all shift in our seats.
“Clayton found a tiny bit of his blood in my bathroom,” Maribelle begins again. “I have no idea where that came from, he hardly ever visited my apartment but he did use it from time to time. They found blood on the back dock too, but no murder weapon. Everyone assumed at the time that I killed my husband to get rid of him, but the truth is, he was my best friend.” Tears pool up in Maribelle’s eyes. “He saved me once. Why would I kill him?”
Portia states what any legal or law enforcement personnel would think. “The money.”
Maribelle wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “My parents left me with a fortune. I used a good bit of it to purchase the Cove properties and renovate the motel. The plan was to get each property online while working in nursing until they all were renovated and open.”
“But Jack would have wanted a piece of that,” Sebastian says.
The light in her eyes dims and her face turns hard. “I had several hundred thousand in the bank. Anyone can check that. I saved it just for Jack, told him to take the money and buy the fishing boat he always wanted.” She leans forward, looking straight at my brother. “I always — always — planned to give him part of the money.”
“Why didn’t he take it?” Kelly asks.
Maribelle closes her eyes and grimaces. “Because he wouldn’t let me go.”
She rises from her chair so fast the chair falls over backward, then heads to the enormous fireplace and leans against the mantle. I feel the tension shift and know that soon one of the women, if not Sebastian, will try to comfort her, which isn’t what Maribelle needs right now. I know this woman, she’ll want to remain strong throughout her story or the pain will unravel her for sure.
“Tell them why he wouldn’t let you go.”
All eyes turn to me, questioning, then Maribelle slowly turns, her shoulders dropping and her gaze vacant and dark.
“I married Jack to get out of an abusive relationship.”
Finally, my twin straightens in his chair. “Who?”
She shakes her head sadly. “My brother.”
TB still holds my hand and I feel it tighten.
Maribelle finally looks up, that tough exterior slipping as she recalls her past horrors.
“He was a monster. Used to terrorize me, both emotionally and physically.”
“Where were your parents?” TB asks.
“They didn’t believe me. Said I was being dramatic. When he sexually assaulted me, he threatened to kill my cat if I told them and when I did, I found my beloved pet in pieces in the back yard.”
“Jesus,” Sebastian whispers.
“I married Jack to get away from him. Jack and I had been friends throughout high school, where Gunner bullied him unmercifully. We eloped and Jack got a job on a boat in Rhode Island, far away from my family, and I went to nursing school. But, y’all know me, I’m an independent soul and I was never meant to be a fisherman’s wife. Not to mention Jack fell in love with me and I didn’t feel the same.”
“That’s when you moved here?” Portia asks.
“First, my parents came to see me. Apologized, admitted that I was right, that Gunner was ill.” She picks up her glass and refills it with wine, drinks half the glass in one gulp. “We still don’t know why he’s the way he is. My parents were the finest of people.”
“Except for the fact that they ignored a monster in their midst,” Sebastian says with emotion.
Maribelle sends him a grateful smile, no doubt happy he’s now convinced she’s not the killer. “Except for that.”
“What happened after that?” TB asks.
The rest of her wine disappears as she gulps the remaining half.
“They changed their will, told me I was to inherit everything. They tried to get Gunner into a hospital — they never explained what had happened that changed their minds — and that Gunner had left and they had no idea where he was. They begged me to come home, to leave Jack and go to college, which was my dream before things turned ugly at home. I told them I would but the next month they both were dead.”
Maribelle recounts how the maid arrived one morning and found the couple dead on the basement steps. The police called it suicide but the case remains open due to some suspicious elements, one of which was the basement lock. Police suspected someone trapped them in the basement by locking them in, then changed out the lock to eliminate evidence.”
Maribelle pauses while we imagine the worst, her parents likely clawing at the door, begging to be released.
“They suspected me, of course, because my parents had recently changed the will and here they were dead,” Maribelle continues. “It’s the main reason I came here. I needed to escape those memories.”
TB releases my hand and rises, rights Maribelle’s chair, then leads her gently into her seat. They silently acknowledge each other and I know whatever doubts Maribelle had about my husband, they are long gone.
“Where is Gunner now?” Portia asks.
I beat Maribelle to the punch. “In Lightning Bug.”
Now, it’s Sebastian’s turn to rise, tipping over his chair. “What?”
“Maribelle’s brother, Touché and Dwayne appear to be behind the hotel development.”
“Holy moly,” Patrice says, although she doesn’t use the word moly.
“Touché?” Portia asks. “The doctor who runs the town?”
“Yes,” I say.
“And the paranoia,” Maribelle adds quietly.
Sebastian sits back down and we all lean in.
“I noticed it a few weeks ago,” Maribelle explains. “Eve
ryone on edge, acting suspicious. First, the farmer’s market cancelled my monthly vendor permit, said they had too many stalls and I was one of the last to sign up so I had to be one of the first to go. The next time I went to the market, it was half full.
“Next, two of my best buyers cancelled herb orders. When I asked one why, she claimed someone was at the door and hung up. Finally, I cornered the other one in the grocery store and she turned ugly, said I was like all the other women in Emma’s Cove, only looking after myself and not thinking of the bigger community.”
“What does that mean?” Kelly asks.
“Not letting progress in. This woman thinks the development will bring jobs and tourism dollars.”
“She’s right,” I add.
“No one’s touching my woods,” Maribelle states emphatically.
“So, these guys are stirring up fear in the town,” Portia says.
“It’s more than that.” Patrice rubs her palms on the knees of her jeans. “People here have been acting strange. And I’ve been quick to anger lately.”
“And judge.” Sebastian offers Maribelle an apologetic smile and she, in turn, sends a grateful one back.
“Issues like these will do it to people,” Portia says. “I’ve seen it time and again.”
Kelly shakes her head. “It’s more than that. There’s a stagnant evil in Emma’s Cove.”
“Yes.” Maribelle leans forward. “I think it emanates from that patch of ground where nothing grows.”
The wind picks up and the rain intensifies, as if Mother Nature’s listening and she’s letting us know we’re on the right path.
“Wait,” Portia says, offering that skeptical grimace I’ve seen since my youth every time I tried to tell her I saw the undead. “You’re saying people are paranoid because of a piece of dirt?”
All my life I stood alone against people like my sister. Today, she’s surrounded and I feel empowered knowing I’m among my own kind.
“What I think, Portia,” Maribelle says softly, “is that Dwayne and my brother are tapping into something left over in this town from a horrific event that happened years ago and they are using it to get what they want. Which, in my case, is my land.”
“In my case,” I add, “it’s Jack’s soul or my life.”
Give Up the Ghost Page 20