Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11)

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  “I know,” I said somberly. “And we know he’s capable of it. He killed his sister. His father. And he could easily have killed his mother in the fire.”

  Willy glanced over at the body. “I didn’t know I had the power. That it would really work.”

  I wasn’t sure that it had. Couldn't it have just been coincidence? That lightning happened to strike just at the right time? Don’t things like that happen all the time?

  Something inside me really wondered about the power of Willy’s emotion and culture. But I also knew I’d never know for sure.

  When the rain softened to a drizzle, I bailed out our boat and drove the girls back to Loon Harbor, hearing the mantra in my head the whole way home.

  Blooga meeka reezie. Blooga meeka reezie. Blooga meeka reezie.

  Chapter 44

  The day finally came when the final members of The Seven Whistle staff were released from the police’s restrictions and were free to head back to Baton Rouge, including Carmen, Bosco, and our dear Willy. The bus was due in a half hour to transport the last fifteen people home.

  Elsbeth and I sat on either side of Willy on the glider overlooking Great Pond. We each linked arms with her, rocking back and forth in silence.

  At seven-thirty in the morning the lake stirred with life. Birds fluttered and chirped overhead in the trees, fish jumped in the calm lake, and fishermen returned to the docks with strings full of bass, perch, and pickerel. The strong sun glinted off the lake, winking and reflecting on the windows of the living room.

  Elsbeth sighed and laid her head on Willy’s shoulder. “I will miss you so much, Willy.”

  Willy drew in a ragged breath. “Me, too, mes amis. You two have been the best friends I have ever known.” She let out a tiny sob. “I just wish I could say goodbye to Siegfried in person.”

  I squeezed her hand. “We’ll tell him you said goodbye,” I said. “And you’ll write, won’t you?”

  She brightened. “Oui, of course. Every day.”

  Elsbeth turned to her. “Oh, goodie. I’ll read your notes to Siegfried when we visit him in the hospital. And when he wakes up, I’ll give them to him so he’ll know you were thinking of him.”

  Willie grinned. “That makes me feel better, Elsbeth. Merci beaucoup.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” I asked. “I mean, about all the awful stuff Pierre told you?”

  She grimaced. “No, not really. I’ll never be okay knowing someone took advantage of my mother and then killed my father.”

  I felt bad for asking. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  She leaned over and pecked my cheek. “Oh, no. Don’t be sorry. I know it’s because you care about me.”

  I flushed. “I do. We both do.”

  Elsbeth hugged Willy. “Where will you go when you get back?”

  “We were going to stay with my aunt’s cousin in the Bayou, but we just were told that Mrs. LaFontaine is being moved down to the plantation house next week,” Willy said with a smile. “She will need extra special care, and she specifically asked for my aunt, Bosco, and me to be there for her. She wants us to take care of her.”

  I frowned. “Are you okay with that? Knowing how her family was responsible for so many terrible things?”

  Willy nodded slowly. “I think so. It wasn’t really her fault. Yes, she was weak. She often turned her head away from the things that went on in her house. But I think she was afraid of her husband and probably even of her son.”

  “You can’t blame her,” I said.

  “They were so awful,” Elsbeth added.

  “So even though she was partly to blame for all that happened in some part, I do think she’s suffered more than anyone should. Losing both children and her husband can’t be easy, even if they were not the best people in the world. She’s all alone now. And I think I can forgive her.”

  I marveled at her giving nature. After all she’d been through, after the discovery that she was actually half LaFontaine blood, she still had the grace to forgive the last living member of that family.

  “You’re amazing, Willy,” I said.

  Bosco appeared suddenly, a shy smile on his face. “Hey, guys. The bus is here. Aunt Carmen wants you to come on up, Willy.”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

  We stood as one and walked to the top of the hill, where we said our tearful goodbyes. I rang the bell and everyone banged his or her pots until the bus chugged out of sight.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, William burst into the kitchen waving a piece of paper jubilantly in the air. “It came!” He said. “My acceptance notice came!”

  Everyone grew silent.

  William danced around the room. “I’m in! I’m going to be in the Marines. I have to report for boot camp in two weeks.”

  Viet Nam. William is going to Viet Nam.

  Images of soldiers with guns traipsing through dense jungles filled my brain and soon I pictured William as one of them. But this was his dream. He had wanted to go so badly, had been preparing for this day for so long, that I had to feel happy for him. The worry could come later.

  “Congratulations,” I said, pumping his hand.

  My grandfather slapped him on the back. “We’re going to be mighty proud of you, boy. I know you’ll be a wonderful soldier.”

  I wondered how his parents, Oscar and Millie, felt about it. Would they be horribly worried? Or would they be proud? Or both? Probably the latter, I figured.

  The waitresses gathered around William and twittered like happy birds.

  Betsy said, “I’ll bet you’ll look so handsome in your uniform, William. You’ll have to be sure to send us pictures, okay?”

  He blossomed under her attention, standing to his full height. “Will you be my pen pal, Betsy? You know we soldiers need to get mail from home.”

  She giggled. “Of course I will.” And then she planted a great big kiss on his cheek, leaving a pink lipstick mark. “I promise.”

  He blushed and ducked his head. “Aw, thanks.”

  My grandfather got right to business. “Well, son. I’ve still got you for a few more days, right? So get to work and stop dawdling. You’re distracting my waitresses. By golly, we’ve got a breakfast to prepare.”

  William straightened and actually saluted him. “Yes, sir!” He turned on his heels as if he were in formation and marched out the door.

  Chapter 45

  We returned to Sullivan Hill in East Goodland in the last week of August, saying a fond farewell to my grandparents and Loon Harbor. We’d come back next summer, and my grandfather promised that if all worked out as planned, I could start work as a camp boy next season, since William would be overseas and that would leave an opening in the staff.

  I couldn’t wait. I just hoped we’d return with both of the twins.

  Siegfried had already been transported to a special facility in Conaroga, just five minutes from home. The Marggranders left early to be sure he was settled in properly. He hadn’t woken up. He hadn’t stirred. Not one eyelid fluttered. But we didn’t give up hope and my parents took me to visit him every few days so I could catch him up on what was going on in our lives.

  It was the last day of August now, and I sat beside him in the sterile facility. I’d been reading to him from the final book on our summer reading list, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, figuring I’d kill two birds with one stone. First, I hadn’t finished the book myself, and second, when he woke up, maybe he’d retain some sort of memory of the story.

  I finished the last page and reverently closed the book. “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

  He lay still, unmoving and waxen pale.

  “What did you think of the kids? They were kinda like us, don’t you think? Except maybe a little bit more apt to get in trouble?” I laughed out loud as if he’d just answered me. I had begun to imagine what he would say, and the conversations we had in my head were comforting, if somewhat delusional.

  My mother peeked i
n the room from the hallway. “Honey? You ready to go?”

  I nodded and stood. “Sure thing.” Stretching, I reached over to touch Sig’s hand. “See you in a few days, buddy.”

  “School’s starting soon, honey. So we’ll probably have to move our visits to weekends.”

  Disappointed, I realized she was right. School took up most of the day, and with homework and chores, it wouldn’t be easy to fit in weekday visits.

  “I’m sure he’ll understand,” I said, taking one more look at my friend. “He always does.”

  ***

  I headed out to the barn on the night before Halloween to feed and brush Pancho Villa, my steadfast Morgan gelding. Elsbeth and I had taken a few rides together over the Columbus Day weekend, but the mood had been somber rather than celebratory and it just hadn’t felt right. How could we celebrate the end of summer when Siegfried still lay in that coma? There had been recent hushed whisperings of “letting him go,” and I was afraid to ask what they meant by those chilling words.

  I tossed grain into the bin and whistled to Pancho, who thundered across the pasture and pounded into the stall blowing warm vapor from his nostrils like a sleek black dragon.

  “Hey, boy.” I ruffled his mane and stroked his soft neck, watching him greedily inhaled his dinner.

  Stuffing two flakes of hay in his bin, I next filled his water bucket to the top, and grabbed a brush and rag to work on his dusty coat.

  “Did you miss me today?” I asked, working the brush along his glossy coat.

  He ignored me and just kept eating.

  “I’m sorry I have to go to school every day,” I said. “It must be hard on you.”

  He snorted and tossed his head, switching over to the hay bin to dramatically tear some strands from the flake of timothy hay with his front teeth.

  “Maybe this weekend we can go for a nice ride, huh?”

  As if he didn’t believe me, he turned to his water bucket and sloshed his muzzle noisily back and forth, causing water to spill over the sides.

  “No, seriously. I promise.” I kept brushing him, knowing he enjoyed the feeling of the soft bristles on his coat.

  My mind wandered to the special friendship Siegfried, Elsbeth, and I had always shared, and I worried anew. Not only was Siegfried still out of the picture, but now Elsbeth seemed to drag through her days, her spark all but extinguished. The longer she was separated from her twin, the quieter—and smaller—she seemed to become. Her world had always been fueled by their closeness, their special twin bond. And now she floundered. I tried to help, I really did. But I wasn’t enough.

  I finished rubbing down Pancho, gave him a hug goodnight, and closed him into his stall. Sighing and feeling like critical pieces were missing from my world, making the whole thing a cockeyed mess, I took out the letter that had come in the post today from Willy. I flopped onto a hay bale to read it over again for the fourth time.

  Mes chers amis: Elsbeth, Gus, and Siegfried,

  I hope life back in New York is going well. Remember the good times we had at Loon Harbor, and don’t worry about us. We are doing okay and taking good care of Mrs. LaFontaine who has shown a new tender side that astounds even my Aunt Carmen.

  When Siegfried comes back to us, you must tell him for me that I miss him so much and hope that maybe next summer Mrs. LaFontaine will take us all up to Loon Harbor for a visit. We talked about what happened to my family, and she says she wants to adopt Bosco and me. Then she asked what she could do to make it up to me, and I said I want to go back to Maine next year. We shall see! Keep your fingers crossed.

  Well, duty calls, must run to help with meals.

  Never forget me. I’ll never forget you!

  Blooga meeka reezie,

  Willy

  I refolded the thin typewriter paper and slid it into my pocket. Sig would enjoy this one. Tomorrow, Monday, I was going to see him before trick-or-treating and I planned to read it to him. My parents had agreed as a special holiday treat that I could visit on a school night. I intended to do something nice for the holiday, although I couldn’t give him candy or show him my costume. I still wasn’t sure what I could do that was Halloween-ish. Maybe bring in a pumpkin and put it on his windowsill? To my dismay, my father announced that this would be my last year going trick-or-treating, because ‘thirteen was the limit.’ Which meant I’d never trick-or-treat with Siegfried again.

  A gulping wave of sadness hit me.

  How could life have turned so jarringly, ridiculously, out of whack like this?

  With a resigned sigh, I got up and shut off the barn lights, sliding the big door closed with a resounding thump. I looked up at the stars, and wondered if Willy could see the same sky as me. Then I realized the patterns were different in the North and South. So even that wasn’t possible.

  But what if Siegfried was up there, floating around in the celestial galaxy? Maybe his soul wandered and studied the heavens? Could he be flitting from star to star, reciting calculus formulas that explained the universe’s complex mathematics? And most important, would he ever come back down?

  I put a hand over my heart. “Blooga meeka reezie. Come back to us, Sig.”

  Chapter 46

  School dragged on, especially with Mr. Dolenhoff’s algebra class in the last period of the day. I really didn’t get it, and the frustration I felt as he kept scrawling problems on the board with his back to us with his voice a virtual whisper made my head hurt. What the heck was he talking about? Why didn’t he ever turn around to see our raised hands and eyes full of questions? And why did I care about the value of x and y, anyway?

  It felt as if he droned on for forty-two hours instead of forty-two minutes, and the rustling and excitement of the kids around me made it harder and harder to strain to hear his whispery voice. Everybody just wanted to get out of there, run home, change into their costumes, and get the candy.

  It was that simple.

  For me, of course, I couldn’t wait to visit Siegfried. I hadn’t seen him since last Saturday, and I had been growing more and more concerned about what his parents were whispering about with my folks. I heard talk of the crippling expense of the nursing facility, of Mrs. Marggrander probably having to take a job outside the home, and of them possibly having to sell their house to pay for the bills. I didn’t know anyone whose mother had to take an outside job. Everyone’s mom was home, taking care of the kids and house, making nice suppers, and baking the kids cookies for when they got off the school bus. It just seemed really weird and a little scary. When Elsbeth got off the bus, there would be no one at her house. She’d be all alone.

  That part was daunting enough.

  But when I caught snatches of conversation that sounded like “turn off the ventilator and see what happens,” my heart had skipped like a jittery jackrabbit bouncing around in a tiny cage. Sig had that breathing tube re-inserted into his throat a few months back when they said he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I hated seeing it, but in a way it was comforting to know he was getting help. He was still with us.

  With sweaty palms, when class was finally over I raced to my locker and out toward the bus, ignoring the kids who pelted black jelly beans at each other and those who whipped licorice sticks at their friends.

  I planned to be a zombie tonight. A voodoo zombie, to be exact. My mother had picked up some purple, black, and white face paint, and my father had donated an old white shirt that I’d already splashed with red paint drips to look like blood. Elsbeth was going to her church party, dressed as a bride this year, and this year I’d opted to skip that since it was usually so tame and they didn’t give out great candy, anyway. Normally the three of us went to the party, then trick-or-treating around the neighborhood, but Mr. and Mrs. Marggrander seemed to want to protect Elsbeth more than ever, and they’d told her she couldn’t go house-to-house this year. My folks would take me down to the village, where I’d meet up with a few of my less annoying friends from school and wander up and down Main, Elm, and Oak Streets unti
l my candy bag was full. I figured I might as well take advantage of my last hurrah and stuff it with as much as I could get.

  To my surprise, my mother was waiting for me in our station wagon by the bus queuing area. She stood and waved to me, wearing a blue kerchief over her dark hair and a tan trench coat. She always looked so pretty, I felt proud of her.

  “Hi, honey,” she said, opening the door for me. “I thought I’d save you some time and drive you up to see Siegfried directly.”

  “Great idea, Mum.” I tossed her a grateful smile and patted my shirt pocket where Willy’s letter was waiting. “I’m going to read him Willy’s letter, then tell him about my costume.”

  “Oh, honey. That’s wonderful. Something tells me he hears every word you say.”

  We eased out of the parking lot and headed for the institution.

  “Mum?” I asked tentatively.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Will the Marggranders lose their house?”

  She cast a surprised look at me. “Why do you ask, son?”

  “I heard you guys talking the other night.”

  Her lips tightened. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s grownup stuff. You know. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  I stared at her. “Mum. Please. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, no. You’re not. And I’m sorry if you felt I was treating you like that. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what’s going to happen. The bills are impossible to imagine. Far more money is going out than is coming into that family. They are struggling. Really struggling.”

  “Is that why they talked about taking Sig off the ventilator?”

  She drew in a harsh breath. “Oh, dear God, no. That has nothing to do with the money, Gus.”

  “Well, what does it have to do with, then?” I pushed.

  “Um, the doctors are rather discouraged that there hasn’t been any progress in three months, honey. They’re starting to wonder if he will ever wake up. And one of the options, if people are truly convinced that their family member is lost to them, is to remove all artificial means of keeping them alive and to see what God has in mind. Sometimes they can live on their own, sometimes not.”