You Are Always on My Mind

by Sable Hunter

  “Five or six, at least.” He teased and she placed her cheek next to his.

  “Is that all?” She laughed, thinking how wonderful it would be. “We’re going to have a wonderful life, aren’t we?” Harper held him for a few moments before she announced, “I’m going to go to the kitchen and put on something to cook with the pulled pork. I remember seeing a recipe I want to try in Clotille’s journal.”

  “A recipe for what, eye of newt soup?”

  She playfully slapped his shoulder. “You’d better be careful, the next haunt we have might be Grandmother.”

  Picking up the journal, she headed to the kitchen and climbed up on a stool at the bar and began leafing through. Now, where was it? She’d seen it in here somewhere. Harper turned the book on its side and thumbed through to the back. It had been a recipe for Shrimp Mach Choux, a Creole/Native American dish that included corn, bell pepper, onion, garlic, celery and tomato. When Harper had been a child, this was one of her favorite dishes. When it caught her eye, she stopped the page from turning. What was odd about Clotille’s journal was that it was part recipe book and part diary. Why the other day she’d come upon an odd entry that hinted Nana Fontenot and Clotille had been sisters. Now that she’d found out about Jeanette, she was even more curious. That was one thing she wanted to check out, maybe it was time she went to visit Nana for herself. And one day she’d have to read it cover to cover. But today, as she smoothed out the page to check the ingredient list, the entry on the previous page drew her attention.

  Bernadette isn’t any better. I asked Dauphine to come over and speak to her, try to find out what was causing her to act the way she has been acting. She doesn’t sleep, she won’t talk to me and she can’t seem to concentrate for any length of time. When Dauphine arrived, Bernadette was leery of opening up. Of course my mysterious friend and more has her ways, she asked me to make them a cup of tea and then she read Bernadette’s tea leaves. At some point, Dauphine also coaxed my daughter into letting Dauphine examine her palm. After a while, we allowed Bernadette to return to her room and this is what Dauphine Fontenot told me:

  For want of a better word, your daughter is sensitive. She is more aware of the spirits in the house than you are. What has gone on here, the remnants and the revenants of the past remain. This spiritual residue is weighing upon Bernadette. She can’t shut out the voices, and there’s not just one spirit, there’s three. I’m afraid they are going to cause her to hurt herself or someone else.

  Three? A shiver of unease made it impossible for Harper to sit still. She didn’t really understand what she’d found, but the memories of her mother were never far from her mind. There was no way of knowing for sure now, but from what she’d read about the disease, Harper thought Bernadette might have suffered from manic depression. When she’d been happy, her mother had been on top of the world, but when she wasn’t—Bernadette would find herself in pits of despair.

  Returning to the pages, she read the rest of the entry. Her heart beat harder with every word.

  Before Dauphine left, we discussed my past. I will never get over the guilt as long as I live. I could have stopped it. I found the baby under the bed. When the miracle happened, I should have grabbed that box and ran to Dauphine. I didn’t. I did nothing and lost them both.

  Harper stared at the pages. What was she talking about? Would she ever know? Standing up quickly, she was anxious to put the thoughts of her sad parent and the spirits that haunted Wildwood behind her. Gathering the ingredients, Harper got busy and didn’t stop until she heard voices in the front room.

  Turning the pot down low, she went to join Revel and found Sheriff Russell studying the contents of the box and taking photographs. He examined the book and declared it to be an old diary. He spoke to Harper, but made no mention of the last time they’d met. It was too much to hope for that he’d forgotten. While he was examining it, Savannah arrived. They needed no introduction and Savannah, in her official capacity with the state as an employee of the Louisiana Culture center, told Blann Russell what she knew. The sheriff asked her to read the diary to see if it gave any clues and he took the small bones with him to turn them over to the forensic department. Harper had no idea how much evidence they could find after such a long time had passed.

  Savannah didn’t leave when the sheriff did, she stayed to talk wedding. Revel returned to his renovating, leaving the two women to talk. “Smile,” Savannah told her, “this is a good thing. As soon as the forensic specialist is finished, we’ll give that baby a proper burial and I guarantee things will settle down here. It will be like a brand new day.”

  Over a cup of coffee and some bread pudding, they finalized plans for the weekend. Then, as Harper listened to a recording of Savannah’s friend Tammany sing a few songs for her to choose from for the wedding, Savannah read from the tattered book that had been found with the rosewood casket.

  “I love her voice,” Harper announced after she’d finished listening. “I think I like the last song, You Are Always On My Mind.” There was really no question, those words meant everything to her.

  “I like that one, too,” Savannah agreed. She had a funny look on her face.

  “What’s wrong? What did you find?”

  Savannah held up the diary. “Listen, this entry answers a lot of our questions.”

  “Whose diary is it?” Harper asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

  “Jeannette Mercier, just like we figured.” Savannah began to read.

  I am going mad. My life has become intolerable. There seems to be no recourse. I am a prisoner in my home at the mercy of a man who rapes me every day.

  Harper felt her heart thud in her chest. Savannah looked up at her and Harper nodded for her to keep reading.

  My heart is broken. My father, Elias, has become a monster. Everything I’d ever feared has become my reality. Every night he comes to my room, he invades my bed. The man I worshiped as a child holds his hand over my mouth as he ravages my body without mercy and without my consent.

  A sob broke from Harper’s mouth. The diary could have been hers. She could have written every word. To hear someone describe the horror she’d gone through, every emotion so clear and precise stunned Harper. “Go on,” she encouraged Savannah.

  “I have to skip ahead. There’s some blank pages and some of its unreadable.” Savannah turned the fragile pages carefully.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do. I am with child. I am pregnant with my father’s baby. I shall bear my own sibling. If it were not for the child who will need me, I would want to die. Who will marry me? What will become of me?

  Harper wiped tears from her eyes. At least she hadn’t had to go through a pregnancy. “Is that all?”

  “No,” Savannah’s face darkened. “There’s more.”

  I am desolate. My baby, a little boy, was born dead. I named him Joby and the nurse placed him in a box and put him under the bed where I now lie. Clotille was devastated, I’m not sure how much she understands. She is so young. A storm has come, a hurricane. The ground is too soaked to bury my child and the wind has blown down large trees. We are trapped. I am trapped.

  “Oh, my God,” Harper exclaimed. “It’s not what we thought, the baby was born dead.”

  Savannah paused, then raised her hand. “Hold on, there’s more.”

  During the night a miracle occurred. I could hear my baby crying. At first I thought it was his spirit, come to curse me because of the horrible deeds I have endured. I have no consolation. My own mother refuses to see me. She calls me names. She blames me for seducing her husband and ruining our home. I beg her to listen. This wasn’t my fault. He gave me no choice.

  When my child began to cry, at first I was afraid. But I crawled from my bed and looked beneath and pulled out the box containing my angel. And he was alive! He was crying! Clotille and I held him. I brought him to my breast to let him nurse but the servants heard and they brought Father. He tore Joby from my arms and left. Clotille and I screamed and sc
reamed…I must follow.

  Harper was crying in earnest now. The similarity with her own nightmare was uncanny and heartbreaking. Savannah was crying also, but she continued to read.

  My father is the devil. He has taken Joby. My Joby. No more than hours after he was born, he tore my child from my arms and stormed out with him. I tried to follow, I ran after him into the storm. But I was weak. Something happened to me during the birth. I am bleeding. I fear the worst. He came back without Joby. He told me to forget him. To forget he was ever born. If I can’t find him, I don’t want to live.

  When the last word left Savannah’s lips, she turned to Harper. Before they could say a thing there was a horrific crash upstairs and both women stared at one another. Savannah took off running first.

  Harper thought that perhaps they should have called Revel, but Savannah was intent. It was as if she was on a mission. At least Harper could take consolation in the fact that Savannah had done this type of thing before.

  They ran so hard and fast up the stairs that by the time they reached the top, they were out of breath. Savannah glanced back at Harper and she pointed to the end of the hall. “I think it came from down there. Jeanette’s room.” They both realized now that this was the room where the baby had been placed under the bed. The room where the father had molested his daughter.

  When they came to the door, Savannah reached out to take the knob but jerked her hand back.

  “What wrong?” Harper asked. Her friend had acted as if the metal was hot.

  “Feel, it’s icy cold.” Harper did as she directed and sure enough, the metal felt as if it had been kept in the freezer for hours.

  “How?”

  “Spirit activity,” Savannah said, “lots of it.”

  When they entered the room, both women stood there in shock. The heavy bed had been upended, literally turned on top of itself. In fact, nothing in the room was where it should be, it was as if an unseen power had ripped everything from its bearings and tossed it casually into the air.

  * * *

  After Savannah had gone to take the book they’d read to the sheriff, Revel had put everything to right.

  “I’ll be glad when this is over,” Harper whispered, sticking close to the man she loved.

  “Savannah says the best chance we have of bringing peace to the house is laying the baby to rest.”

  “I can’t wait,” she whispered.

  “Hey, come here.” He eased her into his arms. “Do you need to go to our playroom?” he offered quietly.

  Harper held on to him. “No,” she said with surprise. “If you’ll just hold me and kiss me I’ll be fine.”

  Her request was no hardship to Revel. He gathered her close, joining their mouths, kissing her with all the passion in his soul. Holding her till she quieted, he pushed back her hair. “You know anytime you need me, anytime you need what we do together, it’s good. I love being with you.” He framed her face. “I enjoy our time together. What we do or how we do it is no one’s business but our own. As long as we are happy, that’s all that matters.”

  “I know,” Harper said, nodding against the security of his arm.

  The next day brought both happiness and sorrow. Although law enforcement could tell nothing from the bones of the child about how it died, the evidence of the diary gave them enough to say that the child was indeed the son of Jeanette Mercier and that it had most likely been murdered. Patrick and Revel arranged for the baby to be interred into the cemetery and laid to rest in the Devereaux vault. The priest, the same one Harper learned who would be performing their wedding ceremony came to officiate.

  There, among the above ground tombs, Harper stood as a member of her family was finally buried. A lonely wind rose from nowhere to rustle the leaves on the trees. “I want to put up a marker,” she whispered to Revel and he hugged her in response. Patrick and Savannah had come and she and her new friend cried. It was only fitting. No one, especially a babe, should be buried without tears.

  The records had been searched and it was confirmed that the child’s mother, Jeanette Mercier, had hung herself on the second floor balcony at Wildwood. As Clotille had said, their family had known much tragedy. Once this sad deed was done, Revel and Harper returned home, determined to begin their new life together.

  * * *

  The day of their wedding rehearsal dawned bright and clear. From the moment Harper awakened, she was filled with a sense of expectancy and excitement. She woke Revel up in the best way she could think—under the covers with her mouth wrapped around his cock. It really wasn’t her fault, when she opened her eyes, she’d raised her head to look around and the first thing she saw was the sheet and thin coverlet tented over his large erection.

  With a mischievous smile, Harper lifted the covers and scooted beneath. When she saw what awaited her, she couldn’t help but lick her lips in anticipation. Loving on his cock seemed the right thing to do. “You are so beautiful,” she whispered to him. Harper knew she’d never get enough of him if she lived to be a hundred.

  Wrapping her hands around his dick, Harper marveled at how perfectly he was made. So thick, so long, so hard. Seeing a pearly bead of pre-cum budding from the tip, she used her tongue to lap it up. Nuzzling his manhood, she inhaled his clean, musky scent. For a millisecond, she paused to see if he was stirring. Only a slight tightening of his thigh muscles betrayed the fact that he was aware.

  Harper didn’t let on. Instead, she set out to drive him gloriously insane. Moving closer, she licked the side of his shaft, up one side and down the other, letting her lips and tongue massage the velvet covered steel. Unable to wait, she opened her mouth wide and took him in. His hips jerked a bit and a low moan growled from his chest. Harper felt her own excitement build. She loved this, she loved him. With hunger to please them both, she sucked Revel’s cock until his hot cum shot down her throat.

  He didn’t let her morning wake-up call go unanswered, but hauled her up and into his arms, praising her and telling her how much he loved her. Before he was through, Harper came so hard that she almost passed out.

  Yes, it was going to be a good day.

  Even before they’d finished their breakfast, their friends began to arrive. Soon the kitchen was full of food and happy people. Since the church was only a mile or so away, Savannah and the other women were in and out, setting up decorations and readying the sacred space for the ceremony. For the first time in a long time, Wildwood rang with real children’s laughter instead of cries of despair as Lucy and Jeremey played with toys their parents had brought along to entertain them.

  She wanted to go help, but Revel was adamant that everything be a surprise. So, Harper stayed home, kept the coffeepot going and matted the sketch she’d made for her groom’s surprise. Running a hand around the antique frame, one she’d found upstairs, Harper smiled at the precious memories the image invoked. Knowing the men could come back at any moment, she returned the gift upstairs and placed it in a box, wrapping it to give to him at the ceremony. She had it all planned.

  “Harper, where are you?”

  “In here,” she answered, recognizing Harley’s voice.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, coming to sit on the bed beside Harper.

  She patted the gift, gaily wrapped in snow white paper with a flat cream ribbon its only adornment. “I just finished wrapping Revel’s wedding gift. I’m an artist, of a sort. I sketched him a picture of us down by the bayou.”

  “I’m sure he’s going to love it.” Harley smiled. She raised her head and looked around as if seeing things Harper couldn’t see.

  “What’s wrong, do you sense anything?” The notion made Harper nervous.

  Harley smiled, her long dark braid hanging over her shoulder. “No, I don’t. Every other time I’ve been here, I’ve been aware of spiritual energy.” She shook her head. “But not this time.”

  Harper sagged with relief. “It’s not that I don’t feel for them, I do. And I’m so relieved they’ve found peace. Wh
at happened to that mother and baby was horrible.” She gave Harley a weak smile. “I just don’t want to share my living space with them.” The trauma of hearing Jeanette’s diary read and the parallel between their experiences was something she’d never forget. At least Harper’s experience had turned out differently. Revel was her salvation.

  “Yes, it was horrible, very sad,” Harley agreed.

  Harper rose and walked to the French doors, staring out at the activity as the men readied the cookout. The plan was for them to eat first, celebrate, then retire to the church for the rehearsal. Tomorrow, the ceremony was scheduled for early afternoon. And then the honeymoon…the idea made Harper’s heart flutter.

  “That T-Rex is one tall Cajun.” Harley laughed, joining her, laying a hand on a clear pane of glass in the French door. When she did, her whole body jerked.

  “What’s wrong?” Harper hadn’t missed her friend’s reaction.

  Harley backed up, her mouth open, her face frozen. She turned abruptly to stare at Harper. “Be careful. I can sense someone who doesn’t belong.”

  “Another ghost?” This certainly wasn’t what Harper wanted to hear.

  “No, not a ghost,” Harper spoke slowly. “I don’t know, I can’t…tell.”

  “Oh, we think we had an intruder a while back, but the Sheriff couldn’t find anything. He suspected it was just kids.”

  “Well, be careful,” Harley cautioned. “Just in case.”

  “Oh, I will,” Harper stood. “Nothing can spoil this day, I’m about to marry Revel Lee Jones. Come on. Something’s smelling good downstairs. Let’s go see what it is.”

  Over the next few hours, the good times rolled. T-Rex had brought a couple of kegs of beer and the men barbequed crabs, shrimp and cooked steaks on the grill. Dandi and Savannah prepared potato salad and corn on the cob. Harley had brought all the ingredients for a big banana pudding and Harper helped her, stealing bites when she thought no one was looking.