The Juju Girl

by Nikki Marsh

  "We've already eaten. You were sleeping so peacefully that we didn't have the heart to wake you. Felicie made a plate for you whenever you're ready."

  A little later, on my way to the kitchen, I heard muted voices coming from the drawing room. I tiptoed down the steps. Uncle and Auntie were quarreling about Popá Jean. Uncle ordered Auntie to have nothing more to do with him. He called him an evildoer. When the arguing stopped, I made my way to the kitchen and ate the supper Felicie had left out for me. On my way back to my room, I noticed Auntie sitting alone in the small parlor, staring at her folded hands. She hadn't changed a bit. I spoke to her, but she didn't have much to say. She seemed preoccupied and worried, so I left after a few minutes to check on Maman.

  I spent the rest of the evening with Maman who drifted in and out of sleep.

  When I returned to my room, a smoldering fire provided the only light, and Brigitte was already asleep. I got into bed but had trouble falling asleep. I had slept too much earlier, and now I began to relive the horrific events of the storm. When I finally drifted off, a burst of cold air startled me. I got up to close the window, only to find it already closed.

  "Strange," I thought.

  I got back in bed. I tried to dismiss what had happened as my overactive imagination. But, when I saw a shadow looming at the foot of Brigitte's bed, it stopped me cold. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and slowly sank under the security of my covers, pulling them over my head.

  I had to stop letting my imagination run away with me, but the memory of the shadow I once encountered at the cemetery threw me into a panic. Was it Granpopá? Or, could it be Popá coming to me? I loved Popá, and really missed him, but I certainly didn’t want to see his ghost. I braced myself. I didn't make a sound, not even to breathe, until I could hold my breath no longer. I exhaled quietly and prayed the shadow couldn't hear my heart pounding. I wanted to run out of the room, but I froze, powerless to do anything.

  Chapter Four

  The Gift

  When I emerged from under the covers early the next morning, the shadow had vanished, and the bright morning sunlight melted my fears. Just a bad dream. After I checked on Maman, the aromas from downstairs lured me to the kitchen. Felicie was busy frying ham, baking biscuits, and cooking grits. I helped myself to one of the hot biscuits piled high on a plate and smothered it with butter.

  "Missy Brigitte, Miss Lucinda, and Mr. Phonse will be down in a little while. They'll want you eatin’ with them, so don't you go spoilin' your appetite none."

  "Don't worry. I haven't eaten much since the storm. It won't cut my appetite."

  I forgot about the lie I told her yesterday about eating. That's the thing about lies; it's hard to keep them straight. I must learn to lie only when absolutely necessary.

  She glanced at me, then added, "Just one."

  "You're an early bird, Missy Gabbie."

  She called me by a name I heard only one other time, at the cemetery.

  "Felicie, why did you call me Gabbie?"

  "The old folks say a name is somethin' you gotta grow into. Take Gabrielle. It's a mighty pretty name for a full-grown woman. You ain't a child no more, for sure, but you ain't no full grow woman either. Don't you like the name Gabbie?"

  Actually, I did.

  "Since I'm starting a brand-new life, a brand-new name suits me. But, please call be Gabbie, not Missy Gabbie."

  "No, no, no! Your Auntie won't like it none if I don't."

  "Why?"

  " 'Cause I got to know my place," she explained. "If I call you plain Gabbie, it would be like I'm your equal. You see?"

  I didn't. This seemed silly to me. After all, wasn't Neni like part of the family? Hadn't she raised Maman and Auntie after their mother died?

  "Mr. Phonse don't care a bit 'bout that kinda thing, but Miss Lucinda is real particular. I called Missy Brigitte 'Gigi' when she was little," she went on. "Didn't start calling her Miss Brigitte 'till recently."

  This baffled me.

  "I don't understand. She's not full grown yet."

  " 'Cause she's close enough, and she might not live to be full grown."

  She blurted this without thinking and the look on her face told me she regretted it.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nothin'."

  I begged her to explain, and after a few refusals, she put down the fork she was using to beat some eggs and leaned in closer. Her large hazel eyes widened. She scanned the room even though we were alone. She spoke in a hushed voice.

  "This 'tween you, me, and the walls. OK?" She waited until I nodded agreement.

  "I've seen some signs."

  "What kind of signs?"

  "Signs of death." She waited for my reaction, but I hid my surprise, and she continued.

  "A few weeks back, a robin flew into her room. Luckily, Mr. Beau was here. He caught that bird and threw it out the window. Me and Auntie told him he shoulda killed it, but he don't abide with no signs or superstitions."

  “Who’s Mr. Beau?”

  “He’s the tutor. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

  She scanned the room again, making sure we were still alone.

  "What if he wasn’t here when that bird flew in? Me or Miss Lucinda would have to do it. I sure ain't gonna tangle with no bird. What if I hurt the bird but didn't kill it? That would bring down bad luck on me! Miss Lucinda knows this, too, so she sure ain't gonna fight one if she don't have to. See, she woulda made me do it, even if it meant bringing down bad luck on me. Me having bad luck is better than Missy Brigitte dying, ain't it?"

  I struggled to understand her logic, but she cared about Brigitte and wanted to protect her - even if it meant bringing down bad luck on herself. I immediately liked Felicie.

  "Ever since that day, Missy Brigitte steady been gettin' worser and worser. There have been more signs, too. But, I don't want to trouble you none."

  "Oh, I'm not troubled."

  I wanted to convince Felicie I believed in 'signs' to pry more information from her. I also wanted her to like me. I wanted a friend. Every day, she made a point of telling me about some special conjure she added to Maman's food, or put under her pillow, or some special flower, like the Narcissus, she left in her room to help her get better. Harmless superstition.

  She changed the subject.

  "I'm real sorry 'bout your Popá Missy Gabbie. Mr. Phonse used to say how he was like his brother."

  Just the mention of Popá made me sad. I stopped talking. Words escaped me, and I didn't want to cry. After a few minutes of silence, Felicie resumed the conversation.

  "I checked on your Maman a few times last night."

  "Is she any better?"

  "Well, a big spider crawled from under her bed last night. That's always a good sign."

  Signs again. Felicie seemed to live her whole life according to mysterious signs. She saw signs in everything.

  "A good sign for what?"

  «Araignée du matin--chagrin; Araignée du midi--plaisir; Araignée du soir--espoir. »

  My expression showed I didn't understand.

  "If you see a spider in the morning, there's goin' to be grief, a spider in the afternoon means joy, and a spider at night brings hope," she declared with a smile of self-satisfaction.

  "Well, I sure hope Maman didn't see the spider. She hates them. She might have killed it if she had the strength."

  "Well, she don't like them none 'cause she knows plenty 'bout the signs," Felicie added. "There was another sign, too."

  "What?"

  "Well, when I took her somethin' to eat 'fore you got up, the spider was gone. So, there won't be no grief today." She proudly made her prophecy for the day.

  All this talk about signs made me uneasy. I didn't want to believe in signs or hear voices from the grave, or witness dead things come to life, or spirits lurking in dark corners. I wanted to hear about Maman's old life, and Felicie might be the person to help. Neni must have talked to her about this strange family.

  Felicie saw th
e wheels turning in my head, and she stopped talking. I didn't want to scare her off, so I changed the subject to last night's bad dream. She stopped me as soon as I began and gave a stern warning.

  "Never tell a bad dream 'fore breakfast unless you want it to come true." I didn't want this dream to come true, so I didn't.

  After breakfast, I made my way to Maman's room but stopped outside the door when I heard Auntie's husky voice. I couldn't make out every word, but I overheard Maman say they could never right the wrong they had done. I wondered what wrong they had done and if it had caused the rift between them. When their voices trailed off, I knocked and went in. Auntie sat next to Maman on the bed. They both looked grim.

  "Good morning, Maman and Auntie."

  Auntie grabbed my hand.

  "Let me get a good look at you, Gabrielle. I was so tired last evening, I didn't have energy for a good conversation."

  "That's all right, Auntie. You must have worried about us. I'm just grateful you took us in.”

  "Don't be silly, Gabrielle," she protested. "You're family, and family is always welcome, even when there have been little squabbles."

  Squabbles sounded like the wrong word. When sisters stop acting like sisters, that's more than a squabble. I wondered if Auntie believed what she was saying or if she had another motive for seeing things in this light? She gestured for me to come closer.

  "You look more like Gus now - a real jolie jeune femme.”

  "Thank you, Auntie."

  "This is your home now, too, and I want you to feel welcome. How did you sleep last night? I hope your bed was comfortable."

  Auntie didn't care how I slept. She was being polite. She didn't expect more than the typical, "I got a good night's sleep." This would have been a good time to tell a lie, but how could I have known the trouble I'd cause by telling my dream?

  I told her about the cold draft and the shadow I imagined at the foot of Brigitte's bed. Her eyes narrowed, and her face lost its color except for the ever-present rouge painted on her cheeks.

  She turned to Maman, "Well, now do you believe me, Aimee? Now, will you help me?"

  "You know I can't, Lucinda."

  With that, Auntie stormed out the room.

  "What's wrong with Auntie, Maman? I didn't mean to upset her."

  "You didn't. She was upset before you came in. Your dream only made it worse."

  "Why?"

  She tried to sit upright in the bed, but she didn't have the strength. She slid back and patted the side of the bed, motioning me to sit next to her. For the first time in my life, her gaze frightened me. I sensed she was about to tell me something important.

  "Gabrielle, you remember what you told me at the cemetery the day of Granpopá's funeral, don't you?"

  "How could I forget? I imagined I heard Granpopá’s voice but you said I didn't."

  "Yes, I did. I wanted to protect you."

  Her head injury is causing some delusion, I told myself, but deep down inside, I knew that wasn't true.

  "From what, Maman?"

  She took a deep breath. "A veil separates the living from the dead, and most people can't travel between the two."

  She reached up, pulled me closer, and kissed me on my forehead. I flinched, afraid she was about to tell me something dreadful.

  "Some people have a sacred Gift. They can cross over those two worlds. They hear the voices of the dead, see the dead, speak to the dead, or feel their presence."

  I wanted her to stop, but what she said explained a lot.

  "When you told me you heard Granpopá's voice that day, I didn't want to believe you. I even convinced myself you imagined it. I didn't want you to have that Gift."

  "Why not?"

  "It's a blessing and a curse. The first time I suspected you might have it was when you were born with a caul covering your face."

  "A caul?"

  "It's a thin film that protected you in the womb."

  I asked why she hadn't told me before this? Why now?

  "Because now I believe you have it, and you must learn to use it, or it will destroy you."

  She tried to sit up again, and I helped.

  "I believe you saw a spirit last night, a spirit who's stuck between two worlds. Something is holding it back. It might remain a shadow that cannot speak. Or, it may become more powerful and harmful if it's a malevolent spirit."

  I wanted her to be wrong. I wanted it to be a bad dream or my imagination.

  "You're wrong, Maman." I fought back my tears. I wanted her to comfort me as she did when I was a little girl. I wanted her to hold me.

  "Don't be frightened, Gabrielle. The spirit won't harm you," she assured me.

  "Your Gift will protect you."

  Desperate to make sense of this, I searched for an alternate explanation.

  "Maybe it was Popá. Maybe he wants to tell me something. Maybe he hasn’t crossed over yet."

  "I don't think it was Popá."

  "Well, maybe it was Granpopá?"

  "I don't think it was Granpopá, either."

  "Haven't you got some idea who it was?"

  Fear clouded my thinking. Fear of this Gift. Fear of the spirit.

  "You saw a malicious spirit that wants to harm Brigitte - one that wants revenge for something that happened a long time ago."

  "What awful thing did Brigitte do to make a spirit want to harm her?"

  "Brigitte did nothing, but this spirit feels justified harming her just the same." She quoted scripture which is something she often did at home.

  "The Lord is long-suffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation." Numbers 14:18

  "Brigitte has to pay for someone else's sins? Whose?"

  "Right now, that's not important. What is important is that you not deny your Gift. That will only cause you and those you love heartbreak."

  My floodgate broke, and a deluge of tears flowed down my face.

  Maman held and comforted me until my tears subsided.

  "You have the Gift. Now, you must learn to use it for good juju."

  "Juju?"

  "Since the beginning of man, civilizations have amassed secret knowledge. They have passed this knowledge down from generation to generation. Some call it magic, wizardry, sorcery, divination, to name a few. In this part of our country, it came with the slaves from Africa and blended with the knowledge and beliefs of the Indians, French, Spanish, and others who came to this country."

  "Like conjure?" My question surprised her.

  "You've been talking to Felicie, I see." She smiled.

  "Conjure is different. It heals the body, but it doesn't require supernatural power. It's juju that has magical power. Many confuse the two because they often work together. People can use juju and conjure for either good or evil. It's the purpose that makes it good or bad."

  I thought about Felicie. I believed she used good conjure. Maman continued.

  "Some people have the Gift that combines both, but they misuse it and lose their power. Others choose to use their Gift only for good."

  "How did I get this Gift?"

  "You got it from me. I got it from my Maman. She got it from hers. In our family, it passes from mother to daughter."

  "Why didn't you use your power to save Popá? Why did you let him die?"

  The look in her eyes shamed me. I didn't mean to blame her. But, I wanted to know why.

  "I renounced my Gift a long time ago. Don't ask me why. I had good reason. But, even if I hadn't, God's will is stronger than any powers we humans have."

  She slid back on the pillow.

  "I'm getting tired. Go to Neni. Tell her what is happening to you. I'll speak to Felicie and ask her to take you to Neni. But, promise me to take precautions and never let Auntie discover what you are doing." I did.

  That night, I slept better than the night before, even though I pulled the covers over my
head... just in case.

  ✽✽✽

  The next morning, I had breakfast with Uncle, Auntie, and Brigitte. Auntie took more interest in me now. She suggested I work with Mr. Beauregard, Brigitte's tutor.

  "Good idea," Uncle chimed in.

  Auntie said I would have to take my place in New Orleans society since Martial blood ran through my veins.

  “At home, I finished our parish school. I even started teaching the primary students." I was proud of this accomplishment.

  "Young ladies in our society need more than a basic education."

  If I had to go to school, I wanted to attend a regular school and not be stuck in the house with a tutor. I needed to visit with Neni. Regular school might give me that opportunity.

  "Isn't there a school I could attend? I'd like to meet new friends."

  "Under normal circumstances, you would attend the convent school with Brigitte. You would meet the best people there. But, since she isn't well enough to attend right now, you can work with Brigitte’s tutor. Anyway, Mr. Beauregard is more than capable of giving you a better education than you would ever get in any school. As for friends, you will make the right friends in due time." She said in a stern voice.

  Brigitte said nothing. Her skin was colorless, and I noticed dark circles under her eyes. It made me wonder if the signs Felicie had witnessed might be true.

  "What do you think of the idea, Brigitte, dear?" Auntie asked.

  "Beau is an excellent tutor. You’ll like him, Gabbie."

  Auntie took notice when Brigitte called me Gabbie.

  "Is that your nickname, Cherie?" She inquired as she shoveled food in her mouth.

  Brigitte answered for me.

  "Felicia called her that this morning, and I like it. So does Gabbie."

  I nodded agreement as I savored Felicie's delectable biscuits.

  "Well, then. That's what we'll call you from now on. But don't get too familiar with Felicie because she sometimes forgets her place."

  Felicie was right about Auntie.

  Turning her eyes to Brigitte's plate, Auntie begged her to eat one or two mouthfuls, but Brigitte insisted she would not keep it down. When Auntie realized no amount of cajoling would make her eat, she turned her attention to me.