by Terri Garey
Uh-oh. I could see where this was going. When did I become responsible for the whole world, hm?
"Kelly will be okay. I took her in, didn't I? It's not like she's been thrown to the wolves or anything." Edgy, yet curious, I asked, "Have you been to see her since you… um… ?"
Peaches shook her head. "She can't see me. I've tried. Only you can see me. Haven't you figured it out yet?"
"Figured it out?"
"Kelly can only see men—male spirits. You can only see women."
That made sense. All the spirits who'd come to me so far had been women—Irene, Caprice, Tammy, Psycho Barbie.
"I didn't want this for you girls." Peaches moved toward the footboard, fingering the newel post. "It's one of the reasons I gave you up, you know, so that maybe you'd grow up lucky and not have to deal with it." She sounded almost as if she was talking to herself. "But Mama was right, blood will tell, every time."
A prickle of hair rose on the back of my neck.
"Only there's two of you. Two halves of a whole… two sides, two gifts. Two curses."
"Curses?" I wasn't liking the sound of that. I wasn't liking the sound of any of this.
Peaches laughed a little, but it wasn't a cheerful sound. "That's the way I usually saw it—a curse, though it wasn't all bad. I like to think I helped a few people along the way. Passing messages from the other side, giving comfort when I could. Besides," she shrugged, "it helped pay the bills."
A psychic. Great. That was just great. I could see the neon sign in my mind: MADAME PEACHES IS IN. FORTUNES AND FAIRY TALES TOLD HERE.
"Trouble is, sometimes the dead can be mighty determined to get the living's attention. And not always for good reasons. I wish you and Kelly didn't have the knack, but at least now you girls have each other." Peaches let go of the newel post and stepped back, away from the light filtering in through the curtains. "You're going to need to stick together, I think."
"The 'knack' ? What does that mean?" This was a little too All in the Family meets Night of the Living Dead for me. "You make it sound like it's something special to see spirits when I, for one, think it sucks. And since when did it become so important that Kelly and I stick together?"
Peaches took another step back, into the shadows. "You girls are bound to each other, two halves of a whole."
"I've known her less than a week. We don't even know if we're gonna like each other yet." I could barely see Peaches now, the hot pink chiffon losing its vibrancy to the dimness.
"Open your heart, Nicki. Good and evil exist, both inside and out. It doesn't hurt to have family on your side." Her voice was fading, along with the shadows. "Fate split you apart, but now it's brought you together again. The proof is in the puddin'."
Tired Southern homilies just weren't gonna cut it.
"Listen, I'll do my best, okay? You don't need to worry about us, we'll be fine. You can rest easy." I sincerely hoped she would. The last thing I needed was another ghost looking over my shoulder. Softening my tone, I added, "Don't be afraid to go into the Light, Peaches."
"I'm not afraid."
I couldn't see her anymore. Daylight suffused the room, driving back the darkness. With every passing moment her essence was fading. I could barely even hear her when she said, "I just wanted to say goodbye. You girls be good to each other, and we'll see each other again someday."
And then she was gone, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of peaches and regret.
I put my face down in my hands and cried like a baby for about five minutes.
Then I got up and took a shower. I had yet another funeral to go to.
Six people were gathered to lay Lila "Peaches" Boudreaux to rest, and one of them was a total stranger—the black-suited, balding minister Kelly had hired for the occasion. He was droning scripture from a well-worn Bible, and I couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd read the same passages about hope and glory and everlasting life over the graves of people he'd never met.
I took a deep breath and looked up, appreciating the view of blue sky and clouds more than the sight of the closed coffin, poised to be lowered. A beautiful Georgia morning in early fall—my favorite time of year. Joe squeezed my hand and I squeezed back, oddly at peace under the circumstances.
Not so Kelly. She cried steadily into a wad of tissues, a single white rose in her lap. The rose had come from the spray of flowers Evan and his boyfriend Butch brought, which now lay on top of the casket. Butch hovered over Kelly's shoulder like a muscle-bound mother hen, while Evan flashed me a worried, apologetic look.
But I was okay. All was as it should be… Kelly needed their support right now much more than I did.
"Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes in the One who sent me has eternal life and will not come to condemnation, but has passed from death to life."
The minister had his eyes glued to what he was reading, or he might have seen what I saw—the black limousine that turned off the main road and glided to a stop right behind him, a few hundred yards away. Someone visiting one of Forest Lawn's dearly departed residents, no doubt.
"Do not be amazed, because the hour is coming in which all who are in the tombs will hear His voice and come out, those who have done good deeds to the resurrection of life, but those who have done wicked deeds to the resurrection of condemnation."
There it was again—"the dead shall rise again" thing. All I could envision was a bad zombie movie. If corpses ever start clawing their way out of graves, I won 7 be one of the ones standing around shouting "Hallelujah,"
"Amen."
"Amen," echoed Kelly through her tears. Joe murmured the same and gave my hand another squeeze. Right on cue, a breeze swept through the cemetery, flattening the grass and sending fallen leaves dancing. I lifted my head and let the air cool my cheeks, breathing in the scent of early autumn and late peaches.
It felt like good-bye, and it felt right that Joe was there, that we were all there—my boyfriend, my sister, my best friend, and his partner.
An ending to what I'd known, and the beginning of something unknowable.
Life.
A pretty damned complicated one, too.
The minister came over to Kelly and shook her hand, then offered it to me. "I'm very sorry for your loss," he said.
"Thank you." Despite an ill-fitting suit and a bad comb-over, the man had a kind face. He turned to Joe and offered him condolences, too. Joe walked him aside while I turned to Kelly, who was swiping at her nose.
"You okay?"
She looked up at me, puffy-eyed. "I think so." Then, "Are you?"
I squatted so we were level and nodded, resting a hand on the arm of her wheelchair. "Did you smell it?"
She gave me a confused look. Stupid question. Her nose was red as a beet and still dripping.
"I smelled peaches," I said. "Just a second ago—right after the minister said 'amen.'"
"You did?" Her face crumpled. She scrabbled in her lap for a fresh tissue, eyes locked on mine. I was disappointed she hadn't smelled it. I was sure the farewell had been meant for both of us.
I snagged a Kleenex and handed it to her. She was crying harder than ever.
"Do you think it was her?" Kelly sounded so hopeful, I was glad to be able to give her an honest answer.
"Yes. It was her."
She blew her nose and her crying began to ease, but I was feeling guilty—it would be selfish to keep my predawn visit from Peaches to myself. Tempted as I was to keep the experience private, Kelly should hear about it.
"There's more."
Kelly immediately got the gist, eyes widening above the wad of tissue. I glanced toward the departing minister and murmured, "I'll tell you about it on the way home."
A mechanical hum began, and I turned my head to find the casket being lowered. Two men with a small backhoe—obviously funeral home employees—stood in the shade a discreet distance away, one of them holding a remote. Even funerals had become automated and electronic these days. How creep
y.
The white coffin sank down, smooth as silk, until it disappeared. You couldn't see the actual hole in the ground, because green draping covered everything, including the framework that did the lowering. When the mechanical hum stopped, I knew it was done. It was finished.
I stood up, ready to go home.
"I knew it," a woman said sadly. "I knew my darling Peaches was gone. I felt it in my bones."
I turned, not having heard anybody approach.
The woman at the foot of the grave was elderly and plump. She wore black, including gloves and an old-fashioned hat, complete with veil. The veil was pinned to her hat with a glittering brooch, polished jet and sterling silver by the look of it.
Jet, for mourning.
"You knew our mother?" Kelly spoke for us both. I was relieved, because for a second I'd been afraid the woman wasn't real. If Kelly could see her, then I was safe—she was flesh and blood. The limousine I'd seen earlier was still parked by the road, rear passenger door ajar.
"Peaches was my daughter."
Kelly's breath caught in her throat, matching my shocked gasp.
The woman took a few steps closer, clutching a black beaded purse with both hands. "She told me she'd found her girls, and nothing would do but that she go after the two of you." The old woman's voice was pure Low Country Southern, all molasses and manners. "I warned her not to go looking for trouble, but she didn't listen." She stared at the grave, voice breaking. "She never listened to me once she'd set her mind on something. Always one to go her own way, was my Peaches."
The woman dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and I couldn't help but notice that the handkerchief was black, too. The old lady had style—an old-fashioned style, but style nonetheless.
"Excuse me?" I wasn't sure I was hearing this correctly. "You're our grandmother?"
"Call me Bijou, dear," the woman said. As with many older ladies, her makeup was exaggerated—too much rouge and too much eye shadow. All the foundation in the world wasn't gonna cover those pouchy bags beneath the red-rimmed eyes. "Bijou Boudreaux. 'Grandma' sounds so déclassé, and I refuse to go by one of those silly, made-up names like 'Mimi' or 'Gigi.'"
I stared at her, speechless. The old lady had a lot of nerve if she thought I was going to start calling her anything.
"Peaches told me she lived alone." Kelly's voice was shaky, but I was glad she spoke up. "She said she had no family."
Bijou smiled. A sad smile, with a hint of irony. Lipstick was smeared over the edge of her lip, like her hand had been shaky when she put it on.
"She was angry at me. We didn't part on good terms." Bijou shook her head, the jet brooch on her hat glinting as it caught the light. "I'll never forgive myself for that." She swallowed hard, double chin wobbling. "A deputy from the sheriffs department called me from her cell phone two days ago. When I called the coroner's office, they told me—" Her voice faltered, then steadied. "—they told me that her remains had been released to Forest Lawn Mortuary. When I called here to make arrangements, I was told they'd already been made."
And you thought her funeral would be a good time to introduce yourself? I kept my snarky thoughts to myself, but I couldn't help it if they popped into my head. Whoever Bijou Boudreaux was, she was obviously grieving. Tears had left clean tracks through the makeup on her cheeks.
"I don't understand," Kelly said, shaking her head. "Why would Peaches lie about something like that?" Her fingers stroked the petals of the white rose in her lap.
Very gently, Bijou said, "I told you, dear. She was angry. But we loved each other, my Peaches and I, and I would've met you soon enough, I've no doubt."
Nobody moved. Kelly and I were silent as we stared at the old woman in black at the foot of the grave.
"I can't believe my poor, sweet Peaches is gone." Bijou's wrinkled face crumpled. She brought the black hankie up to cover her mouth, gazing tearfully at the green draping, the open hole in the middle. After a moment she recovered enough to say, "And now it's up to me to protect you girls. That's what Peaches would've wanted."
The ensuing silence was awkward.
I, for one, didn't need protecting, and Kelly was awfully quiet.
"There's nothing for it," Bijou said. She squared her round shoulders and nodded her head, black-veiled hat like a helmet atop her carefully styled gray hair. "You'll have to come back to Savannah with me." Her gloved hands worked the hankie, clutching and unclutching. "You'll have to come back to the Blue Dahlia."
This was too much. "I really don't mean to be rude, but we don't even know you." I glanced toward Kelly in her wheelchair, but could only see the top of her head. "I have a business to run. I can't just run off to Savannah." What the heck was the Blue Dahlia ?
Besides, this woman was a stranger, and I'd learned to be wary of strangers who showed up and made demands. I didn't like being told what to do, and I didn't like being rushed. If Bijou Boudreaux truly was our grandmother, there would be time in the future to get to know each other.
Bijou's bleary-eyed gaze took me in from the tips of my black leather boots to the top of my pink-streaked head. She lingered on my face, looking for something that might remind her of Peaches, I suppose.
"You have your own business?" she asked, dabbing delicately at her rather large nose.
"I do." Evan shifted a little, and I took the hint, raising a hand in his direction. "My friend Evan and I are partners."
Bijou's gaze flicked over Evan, then Butch and Joe, all of whom stood by in silence.
"This is Evan's friend, Butch, and my boyfriend, Joe."
"Very nice to meet you all," Bijou said. "I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances." Then she turned her eyes back to me, effectively dismissing them. "As a businesswoman, you can surely understand why I can't leave the Blue Dahlia unattended. You'll have to come to Savannah in order for me to teach you."
"Teach us what?" Kelly's voice held a note of skepticism, and I was glad she'd finally spoken up.
"Teach you how to handle the knack, dear."
My radar went up. I hadn't forgotten about the "knack."
Bijou cocked her head, jet brooch glinting. The gesture put me in mind of a plump black crow. "The gift of sight can be a dangerous gift, unless you know how to use it. My darling Peaches was extremely talented, but she lacked focus." Bijou looked sadly at the green draping. "And look what happened."
Kelly, however, had no clue what Bijou was talking about. "The knack? And what do you mean, 'look what happened' ? It was a car accident."
Bijou looked at her sadly. "Oh, it was no accident, dear."
Joe murmured in my ear, "What is going on?"
I had an idea, but I didn't like it. Abruptly, I asked, "What type of business do you run?"
"My shop is called the Blue Dahlia." The old woman snapped open her purse, reached in and handed me a business card with one black-gloved hand. She handed a second card to Kelly.
Sure enough, the card read, in flowing script: The Blue Dahlia, Savannah's Finest Blossoms,
"A flower shop," I said stupidly. I'd expected something a lot more "cosmic," like "Psychic Readings By Appointment" or some such crap.
Bijou shifted the handbag into the crook of her elbow and said patiently, "So it is, dear. It's also my home. A lovely old place on the outskirts of Savannah's historic district. It was Peaches's home, too."
Joe chose that moment to slip his arm around my waist. I leaned into him gratefully. Could things get any weirder?
"You girls are in danger," Bijou said.
I felt Joe stiffen. Apparently, things could.
"That's why your mother tracked you down. She wanted to train you herself, but now she's gone, and the job falls to me."
"Nicki, could you take me home?" Kelly's voice was a little faint, but her request was a welcome relief. "I… I'm not feeling very well."
Bijou pinned me with a red-rimmed gaze, as if I were the one who'd said something. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, child."
>
I hate it when people call me "child."
"I can sense things," Bijou continued. "And I can sense quite well that you know I'm telling the truth. Storm clouds are gathering. You're going to need my help to keep the darkness at bay."
Goose bumps rose on my arms. You have both darkness and light surrounding you, child, Father O'Reilly, the priest at Keith Morgan's funeral, had said. You must be strong enough not to let the darkness win.
Despite the goose bumps, and despite the offer of help, I was cautious. There was more to this old woman than met the eye, and I wasn't too eager to attach myself to someone who claimed to "sense things." As far as I was concerned, seeing was believing, and I'd already seen too much of the "otherworldly" stuff.
"My sister isn't feeling well," I said flatly. "I need to take her home."
"We'll call you." Kelly spoke up, though this time I wished she hadn't. "This is all just a bit overwhelming. Nicki and I need time to think things over."
I didn't need any time. I was staying in Atlanta, thank you, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping to speed our departure.
"I see." Bijou looked pained. "You girls have got your mama's stubbornness, as well as her looks. I hope those qualities serve you better than they did my Peaches." She drew herself up, clutching her black purse. Her voice trembled, and she pressed the black hankie to her lips, looking once again toward the grave. "Would you… would you mind if I stayed here a little while? It's a long drive back to Savannah, and I'd like to say my farewells first."
"Of course. Take all the time you need," Kelly said. "I'm glad you were able to come. I'm sure it would've meant a lot to Peaches to know you were here."
Bijou gave us a wan smile. "You're very kind. I'd like to think she's looking down on us right now, wouldn't you?"
Not really. I'd had my fill of spirits looking over my shoulder. Joe gave my waist a squeeze, and I touched his fingers, sensing he'd read my mind.
Bijou looked at Kelly, then me. "Your mama would've been proud of you girls," she said quietly. "I wish you'd had the chance to get to know her. She was very special."