by T. A. Foster
“There you go, just convince them to change the setting.” Holly laughed on the other end of the phone.
“Right, like they are going to listen to my direction. What do I know about how to shoot a movie? Plus, I think they have the plantation leased for the entire week.”
“Um, you saw it firsthand, so you know what really happened between Josette and Luke. And, you wrote the darn thing, so I think you should have the biggest say. That’s just my opinion.”
“All right, all right. We both know I can’t share the entire backstory. I need to get to work on this if I’m going to give them something in the morning. Thanks for listening.”
“Don’t thank me. Call me anytime to tell me about Evan. Make that, you better call me tomorrow with more Evan stories. I want to hear everything.”
“Got it. Good night, Holly.” I laid the phone down next to me and pulled out the page from today’s disastrous scene. Evan delivered his lines with sincerity, and Emmy seemed genuinely distraught during the scene. I sank into the pillow pile I had created on my hotel bed, and closed my eyes, trying to remember the night I first found Luke and Josette.
New Orleans, 1945
Carefully, I extended one hand and then the other through the slender curtain of the seam. I rubbed my arms vigorously, shaking the brief chill from my skin. I wrapped my fingers around my grandmother’s sapphire ring to reassure myself it was snug and secure on my finger.
I heard crying. Giant heaving sobs filtered through the darkness beyond the closet wall where I traveled. I turned the handle on the closet door, cracked the opening enough to survey the exit, then ducked out of the passageway and walked toward the sounds.
It was night, and except for an occasional lamp, the house was dark. I crept down the hall and stopped outside the room resonating with grief. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see inside. A young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, was crumpled on the bed, weeping and bawling. She inhaled a few deep breaths and started the crying ritual all over again. Poor thing. I wanted to ask her what happened to make her cry like that, but the Time Spell rules I imparted on myself didn’t allow me to talk to her or touch her. Surely, someone in the house could hear her; she wasn’t holding back. I waited for someone to come to her.
The house seemed empty, and I left the girl to peek in the rooms lining the hall for any other occupants. When I realized no one was at home or at least not on this floor, I slid back into the weeping girl’s room while she stopped to blow her nose into a linen handkerchief.
She was wearing ivory satin gloves that covered her arms all the way to her elbows. Her green dress was crumpled around her. Thin, beaded, ivory spaghetti straps ran across her shoulders and seamlessly blended in with the beading on the bodice of her gown. An intricately sequined and feathered mask was resting on the floor near her high heel shoes. I wanted to take a picture.
“Why, Papa? Why?” Her melodic French accent filled the room. I tilted my ear toward the hall to listen for approaching footsteps, but it was quiet.
The young woman gathered the heavy skirts from her dress, dabbed at her eyes, and stared out the dormer window. Faded paint clung to the walls. The bed was at the end of the room. Open dresser drawers revealed a cascade of slips, stockings, and camisoles chaotically hanging over the edges. A few Edith Piaf albums had been flung on the floor, and shoes were scattered everywhere. This was a messy girl. She was in dire need of my Remedy and Erase Spells to restore order to her boutique-like room.
“Josette! Josette!” The sounds of a male voice carried through the open window, followed by rocks hitting the glass. I inched closer to the young girl and the onslaught of pebbles bouncing one by one onto the bedroom floor.
She rushed to the windowsill and immediately drew back in surprise. A hand, followed by another hand and arm, reached through the frame and pulled a handsome man into the room. He threw his leg over the side of the wall and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
“Luke, Luke. What are you doing here? How did you climb up here?” She leaned over the side of the window to survey his means of entry. “You can’t be here. You can’t. You must be quiet.” She pressed her finger to her full, pouty lips. Throwing caution out the window, she tackled him to the floor with her arms wrapped around the man’s neck, smothering him with her embrace.
He stroked Josette’s long tresses lovingly and let her cry in his arms. With every sob, he pulled her in tighter to his thin frame. He looked like a boy teetering on the edge of manhood.
“Josette, hush, hush. Don’t cover your beautiful face in tears. You know I’m leaving. But I’m not leaving without you. I came to get you.” He smiled at the tear-strewn beauty.
Josette’s sobbing continued in his shoulder for a few seconds while he rocked her. “Luke, Papa will never let us be together. Just go. I can’t come with you. I don’t know how he found out about us, but now that he knows, he’ll never let me see you.”
He cupped her face in his hands and whispered to her, “I’m not leaving without you. I don’t care what your father says. We knew we couldn’t keep this secret forever, eventually someone would see us together. At least now we don’t have to hide anymore. We can be together. All these months of hiding are over. This is our chance.”
I almost sighed aloud. The love, the pain and anguish, and the fear were palpable. I watched the couple cling to each other with every fiber of their young beings. The warm wisps of their love emanating from their embrace filled every corner of the room.
“This is no choice for me to make. I leave with you, and we still have to hide. I stay with Papa, and he sends me back to France. He will never forgive me for lying to him.” She buried her face again in the handkerchief.
“Don’t you see? It is a choice. You can choose me. You can choose us. At least if you come with me, you’ll be free from him and we can be together.” Luke sat on his heels and tried to reason with her. “Remember the day we met?”
Josette nodded and wiped away the steady stream of tears.
“When I saw you standing in the crowd that day in May, I knew my life was complete. All the fellas had to talk me into riding that dumb parade float for Maritime Day, but once I saw you, I knew why I was supposed to be there. We are meant to be, Josette. I hopped off that float and walked right up to you, because I knew you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I couldn’t let you out of my sight.”
The brunette giggled. “I know. I couldn’t believe you quit the parade just to talk to me. How did you even see me in that crowd? There were hundreds of people there cheering and yelling. It was so loud and crowded.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Even with all of those people lining the street, I found you. I saw only you.”
Josette blushed but lifted her gaze to Luke’s light brown eyes. “I wasn’t even supposed to be there, you know? I snuck out of the house against Papa’s wishes. He didn’t want me to see the parade or be anywhere near sailors. He always said they were no good for me.” The edges of her crimson lips formed a smile. “But he’s wrong. You. You’re good for me, my love.”
“I’m glad you didn’t listen to him. We never would have met. The day of the parade was the best day of my life. Until now.” He paused with a deep breath. “I know I’m going to Japan, but the efforts there won’t last forever. We’ll find a house, you can get everything ready for us, and I’ll come home to you soon.” He squeezed her tightly. “Josette, we can do this together; we can leave right now and start our life together. Please.” He wiped away a rolling tear on her cheek and kissed her on the mouth as she leaned into him.
“But Papa, he won’t give up. He will find us. He will come looking for me. How can I do that to you, Luke? Always running? We’ll never have peace.”
It seemed as if Luke was enchanted by her innocence and stubbornness. “I don’t care how powerful he is, even if he is the French consul. We love each other, Josette. And there’s nothing he can do about that, especially when you bec
ome my wife.”
“Wife?” The tears subsided from her pale blue eyes, and her lips formed a tiny, impish smile. How could he not be charmed by her? She was alluring, adorable, and headstrong all wrapped up in one petite bundle of temptation. “Yes, yes, I’ll go with you. I love you, Luke. I want to be with you and be your wife.”
Relief and happiness flooded the handsome man’s face. He urgently hugged and kissed her again. I had never seen a proposal unfold in person, but this one would be hard to beat. It was like something from a Cary Grant movie.
“But, Luke, where do we go? How do I hide until you come back?”
“I have a plan for us. My Aunt Frances lives in California. I’ve written to her and she’s expecting us. You can stay with her while I’m gone. She has a little place on the water—you’ll love it.”
“California? I’ve never been to California. But then what, Luke?” Josette was looking less certain of her lover’s plan.
“Well, when I get back, we can start our own life. I’ll leave the Navy. I’ve been saving up for this. What do you think about Mexico?” His eyes widened, waiting for her reaction.
“Hmm…I don’t know. Can Papa find us there?”
“I don’t think so. I was talking to some of the guys and I heard Acapulco is great. They’re building new wharfs and warehouses. I’ll have no trouble finding work. It’s right on the beach—it’s beautiful. Look, I brought you a picture.” He untangled himself from her grasp and dug into his front pocket.
She pulled at each of her fingertips until the fabric encasing each one was loose enough to free her hands from the gloves. Josette unfolded the colorful magazine clipping, and spread the page out in her lap. I leaned over to peek. The tattered corners of the page curled over palm trees and a picture of ships trolling in front of sandy beaches. Josette traced the rooflines of the houses dotting the cluster of streets spreading out from the water.
“Oui,” she whispered. “I can see it. We could live right over here.” She pointed to a green hill. “And every morning we will wake up to warm breezes from the sea. I can plant a little garden over here, and this spot right here is where you can have your workshop. And our children will grow up playing in the sand and climbing coconut trees. I can see it, Luke.”
“Really? You want to move to Acapulco with me?” He pulled her into a crushing embrace. Josette squealed with happiness.
“Ok, we don’t have much time. Can you meet me downtown? Can you take the trolley to the train station and leave tonight?” His words picked up speed, and each one tumbled out faster than the last. He pulled Josette from her crouched position on the floor, so she balanced on her tiptoes. “I’ll be there with two tickets on the Crescent line. We leave tonight.”
She looped her palms around the back of his neck and tipped toward his chest so that the beads of her gown settled into the buttons of his shirt. “Oui, Oui. Oh yes. Papa is still at the ball, and most of the servants are off tonight. I can sneak past the housekeeper and butler. I’m sure of it.” She traced his lips with a finger, and Luke bit down gently. She smiled. “I don’t want them to get involved in this. I’ll pack and meet you there.” The French-laced words rolled off her tongue, and her eyes sparkled with love and excitement.
Luke’s lips pursed as he exhaled a long breath. Josette’s playfulness was getting to him. Probably in an effort to distract himself, he eyed the room. He spotted the untidy dressers and the shoe pandemonium on the floor. “Now, don’t bring too much. We won’t have room at first for all of the things you’re used to, but I promise, Josette, I’ll give you everything you want. Everything. I’ll take care of you.”
“I just want you, mon amour, my love.” She sank her lips into his until he pried himself away, and turned back to the window.
“I love you, Josette.” As quickly as he had thrown himself into the room, he disappeared over the side of the double dormer window.
Josette leaned over the side until he was only a shadow. She blew him a kiss off her white glove, but I guessed Luke had probably already run out of sight. She faced the jumbled clutter in front of her and began the frantic task of packing her life into a travel bag. I recognized the feat that girls of all ages and generations hated—light packing. I watched as she assembled a sensible bag for a lover’s escape. She picked through gowns, lace gloves, and stacks of hatboxes.
Dainty, crystal lamps positioned on either side of her dressing table cast a warm glow on the face of the teenage girl. She sat on a velvet-padded stool and sorted her jewelry into shimmery piles. I marveled at the beautiful broaches, hat pins, rings, and necklaces she lined along the back of the table. She hesitated as she ran her fingers over the pieces, but settled on a pearl necklace and a pearl ring, leaving the rest on the table in perfect order.
Josette stepped behind a changing screen and tossed the green gown over the side. After a few minutes, she emerged from behind the partition wearing a dark brown fitted jacket with wide shoulder pads accented with light brass buttons. She swapped her elbow-length, white satin gloves for a matching brown leather pair. Her black skirt stopped just above the knee, and it was darted with a few pleats at her tiny waist. She pulled a scarf from the closet and knotted it loosely around her neck. I admired her 1945 style. The smart travel suit transformed the bawling teenager into a fashionable, mature young woman.
The hard case luggage set lay open atop her frilly bed. She fastened the inside divider of the suitcase with satin ties, then firmly snapped the lid in place. She slid her hand into the handle, picked up her hat with her other hand, and walked out of the room, toward her new life with Luke.
New Orleans, Present Day
I sat up from my mound of pillows and reached for the script. I had an idea for the screenplay rewrites. It was wrapped up in Josette’s room. She couldn’t be captured on the front steps of Magnolia Plantation. That setting was all wrong. Holly was right about what I need to do. I jotted down the scenes from my head on the backside of the screenplay pages. I think this could make the difference in the scene between Evan and Emmy. I couldn’t wait to share it with the creative team in the morning.
Exhausted, I returned the edited script to my bag and slid my tired, danced-all-night body between the cool sheets. “Twinkle,” I called to the ceiling, and watched as one by one tiny sparkling stars glittered across the ceiling of my hotel room.
I had a lot to dream about tonight—star-crossed lovers that transcended time and a cute Texas boy. I giggled a little and let my eyes drift into sleep, hoping I would see Evan Carlson when I got there.
My hand reached across the firm broad chest nestled alongside me, and I studied his face while he slept. Propping myself up on an elbow, I marveled at the man next to me in bed. My lips still felt warm from his strong kisses. I couldn’t keep myself from waking him. I wanted more.
“Jack.” I nuzzled my nose into his neck, and felt the roughness of his cheek against mine.
“Hmm…” He mumbled something while I continued to pour kisses along his neck and ear. I ran my fingers against the side of his ribs, pressing firmly as my hand moved down his body. His eyes were still closed, but I saw him bite down on his lip as if each trace from my finger awakened his skin with heat and desire.
Before I could continue my attack on his senses, each of his hands seized my waist and pulled me on top of him so I was staring into eyes the color of warm chestnut. I gasped.
“Good morning,” he growled into my ear. I felt my entire body start to melt into his.
“Good morning.” I smiled. His hands roamed over my back. His thumbs traced the lines of my shoulders, and my eyes closed in anticipation of his next touch.
“Ivy, it’s a little bright in here. Why don’t you Extinguish some of the sunlight or something?” He kissed my neck.
“What? What do you mean?” I pushed myself up on either side of his shoulders and stared at him. I must have misunderstood what he said.
“You know, do your witchy thing.” He smiled and instantl
y his lips were on my shoulder and moving over my collarbone.
Witchy? Extinguish? Oh my God. He knows. He knows—this isn’t safe. I searched next to the bed, frantic to find my phone. I needed to call Holly. The Eraser Spell didn’t work. My stomach was churning, and my body, which should have been reeling from passionate kisses, was stricken by chilling fear.
I wiggled free from Jack’s strong embrace and tumbled to the floor. But it was cold and wet. I looked up to see if Jack was going to help me, but the bed was gone. Rain pelted my face. I pushed off the cobblestones beneath my knees and tried to catch my bearings. This place was undeniably familiar.
The hissing voice screeched in my ear. “We told you, witch. We told you.”
I spun on my heels and came face-to-face with a shadowed figure.
“Where’s Jack?” I demanded. My fists clenched at my side.
I thought I saw the outline of a smile on the shadow’s cloaked face. “Gone.”
“No!” I screamed, and lunged with the full force of my body into the shadows.
I sat straight up in my bed. “Illuminate.” I struggled to whisper into the dark. My voice caught in the back of my throat. The ball of light swished over my legs, and I exhaled a painful breath. A dream. It was a dream.
I released the comforter from my grip and reached for the lamp next to the bed. It was four in the morning. I walked to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. My hands were shaking as I turned the faucet.
That was just a dream, Ivy. Only a dream. Jack is safe in Sullen’s Grove. I had to fight the urge to pick up my phone and call him to make sure I wasn’t talking myself into something that wasn’t true. If he could live through the past month and not mention even the slightest hint of spells or fighting off the Proxy in Las Vegas, Holly’s Eraser Spell had worked. And this nightmare was just that, a bad dream, not another Foresight. I had made sure Jack didn’t know about my magic, and as long as I kept it that way, he would be safe. I had to let this go.