CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I offer Dr. Yarrow some tea, which he gratefully accepts. When I serve it to him, he sighs with contentment. “That’s quite good. A skill you retained from the old country?”
“Actually, I spent most of my life in Boston,” I reply. “My father moved the family across the Atlantic when I was eleven years old.”
“Ah. I see. Well, it must be instinct then.”
He smiles, and the look is so disarming that it… Well, disarms me.
“How are the children?” I ask.
“They’re not well.”
The bluntness of his response discourages me. My lips tremble, and I ask, “How unwell?”
“Not severely, not at the moment. I’m worried about them, however. Gabriel has withdrawn very deeply into his shell, and to make up for his lack of emotional access, he’s adopting, or attempting to adopt a personality that reminds him of his grandfather. Amelia is completely avoiding her own grief and focusing all of her attention on her brother so she doesn’t have to confront her own sorrow.”
I sigh. “I was afraid of that.”
“Of Gabriel’s withdrawal or Amelia’s avoidance?”
“Of both. Of the two of them not being able to process grief. Their… I don’t wish to speak out of turn.”
“Oh, you are covered under the laws of doctor-patient confidentiality,” he assures me.
“I’m not your patient, though.”
He smiles again. “For today’s purposes, you are.”
My next argument would be that he just shared confidential information about the children with me, but after all, I’m their guardian, so I really should be kept in the loop about anything that affects their health.
“Very well. What I was going to say is that their father and grandmother don’t seem to have overcome their own grief regarding Marcel’s loss.”
“Oh, hardly. They refuse to speak to me, so I can’t tell you anything that would breach confidentiality, but it appears as obvious to you as it is to me that they’ve both chosen their own coping mechanisms. Interestingly enough, it is Etienne who chooses avoidance and Josephine who chooses withdrawal even though personality wise, Josephine is most like Amelia and Etienne is most like Gabriel. But I wanted to talk about the children.”
He sips his tea and asks, “How are you feeling, Miss Mary?”
I blink. “This is a question about the children?”
“You’re their caretaker. My first impression is that you’re the most stable influence in their lives right now. So I am interested in ensuring that you receive any care you might need.”
I blink. “Well… I’m not happy with the situation here. The children are deeply disturbed. They saw a man die in front of them. We’re all deeply disturbed.”
He leans forward slightly. “How are you , Mary?”
I hesitate for a moment. His eyes are still kindly, but I can sense the shrewdness behind the kindness now. I swallow before replying, “I’m…” I look past him to the parlor where the cursed composition sits mocking me. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing.”
He leans back in his chair. “Hmm… That’s much the answer I expected.”
I blink and frown at him. “What do you mean, you expected? I thought we were talking about the children.”
“You’re their caretaker. Your mental health is vital for their own recovery.”
“I didn’t agree to be seen by you.”
“If you do, then I assure you, we will dive far deeper into your psyche than I am now.” Before I can reply, he lifts his hands to quiet me. “Let me explain, though. You seem very strong-willed, Mary. You are very protective of those you care for, and you are very firmly rooted in your interpretation of reality.”
Two for three, doc , I think somewhat pettily. “Yes? And?”
“And you don’t like losing, because losing means one or more of three things: one, it doesn’t matter how strong you are; two, you aren’t able to protect those you care for; or three, your interpretation of reality is false.”
I stare at him for a moment. His expression no longer seems kindly to me. Behind his rosy cheeks and gentle eyes, he’s just as smug as all psychologists. “I assure you, I am quite grounded.”
“Yes, you are,” he agrees. “Which means you are vulnerable when the ground underneath you isn’t solid.”
I stiffen and demand, “What exactly is it you’re trying to say?”
Instead of answering my question, he asks one of his own. “What is your interpretation of what’s happening to this family? If you had to give it your best guess, what would you say?”
I want to tell him to do something vulgar to himself, but he is the children’s doctor, and my performance upstairs has made it clear that the children need help I can’t give. I have to put my personal opinions aside and focus on their wellbeing.
“I would say that they’ve never recovered from Marcel’s death,” I reply. “Losing their grandfather, father and husband devastated them. He was the glue that held this family together, and with him gone, the family is unraveling. Josephine is struggling with a business she likely never expected to manage and navigating a rivalry with… navigating business rivalries—”
“There is no need to be coy,” Dr. Yarrow interrupts. “I’m well aware of the rivalry between the Lacroixs and the Durands.”
I nod. “I don’t think Josephine enjoys it. Not just the rivalry. The business, the legacy, the shadow of Marcel… I think if she could manage it, she would be free of all of it. But she feels trapped by her love of Marcel and the responsibility she feels she has to maintain his legacy.”
“I think you’ve hit the nail on the head. I don’t even know if she loved Marcel or only worshipped him. I trust I don’t need to tell you the very crucial difference between the two emotions.”
“No.”
He nods. “And Etienne?”
I frown again. “Why are you asking me for my opinion? Why not ask them?”
“I will. And they’ll stonewall me. You’re very observant, and I must know the situation in which the children find themselves. If I hadn’t heard Philippa quit rather convincingly, I would be asking about her too.”
I purse my lips and sip more of my tea. "Etienne feels conflicted. He doesn't want to leave his mother to fail on her own, but he doesn't want his children to suffer anymore. He wants to leave the house, leave the Midnight Melody, and start a new life free of the darkness surrounding his father. I suppose he feels trapped too. After all, he's still here despite his many attempts to leave."
Dr, Yarrow nods. “Yes. I agree with that too. Has he shown any anger since you’ve been here?”
“Anger? No. Frustration at times, but nothing that rises to the point of violence. Nothing that makes me feel threatened at all. In fact, the only—”
I stop myself, but not in time. Dr. Yarrow raises an eyebrow, and when I don't continue, he prods, "The only what?’
“Nothing. I… No. Etienne is perfectly safe.”
“But you’re not?”
I frown at him. “Is that a question?”
“Is there an answer?”
“Stop being coy,” I snap. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Do you feel safe here, Mary? Do you feel all right?”
"Of course, I don't feel all right," I snap. "I've been here for a week, and already I've seen a man die in front of me, watched all four members of this family have a nervous breakdown, watched the maidservant have a breakdown and then quit, and nearly lost the children during Mardi Gras."
I realize what I’ve said, and my eyes widen. Damn it! He tricked me!
“Yes, I heard about that. Amelia tells me that when Gabriel wandered off, she tried to get your attention, but you just stood still and watched a street performance like you were hypnotized by it. Her words.”
The blood drains from my face. She never tells me this. I swallow and say, “It was a serious oversight to bring them to Mardi Gras.”
“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, Mary. As I said, I believe you are the most stable influence in the children’s lives right now. But these are two very young, very vulnerable minds we’re talking about. There’s no shame in admitting it if you don’t feel you can protect them.”
“I am quite capable of performing my job duties, thank you,” I reply.
“Do you have lapses in your memory, Mary?” he asks. “Any periods of lost time or sleepwalking?”
I stand abruptly. “Thank you, Doctor. This conversation is over.”
“Do you feel it? Can you hear it, Mary?”
I flinch and take a step back. “Excuse me? What the hell—”
My phone rings. I blink and find Dr. Yarrow looking at me with wide, concerned eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table as though he’s preparing to push himself away should I attack him. It disturbs me how much the thought of attacking him pleases me.
I take a deep breath and say, “I have to take this call. Thank you for your time, Doctor. Unless it directly concerns the children, I don’t think there’s a need for us to speak again.”
I step into the foyer and pull my phone out. The grandfather clock picks that moment to chime because why not? I cry out and drop my phone, and the only reason I don’t shout a curse is because I don’t need to give Dr. Busybody yet another reason to call for a padded van and a straitjacket for me.
I pick the phone up and answer. “Yes, who is it?”
“Just me, Mary. Jeez. Is everything all right?”
I sigh. “No, Sean, not really.”
His voice instantly shifts to concern. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. I just… Just tell me why you called.”
“I have some information about that pianist, Jacques Poitier.”
My eyes widen. “Oh?”
“Yes. I looked him up. It turns out that his mother, Genevive, was a well-known spiritualist in New Orleans during the sixties.”
“I see. And by spiritualist, you mean?”
“I mean voodoo priestess. Crystal ball and everything.”
“I believe that is considered Gypsy magic.”
“Whatever. Don’t be pedantic. My point is that there appears to be some truth to the rumor that Jacques Poitier cursed Marcel. Not the composition. There’s no record of that. But he cursed Marcel. Well, he didn’t, but he spoke about a curse. Not that I believe in that, but—”
“Get to the point , Sean.”
“Jacques Poitier died thirty years ago. On his deathbed, he said he’d spoken to his mother, and his mother said that soon, Marcel would meet a beautiful woman, tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes.”
My jaw goes slack. “What?”
“Yes. And this woman would carry a curse that would be the downfall of his family.”
Dr. Yarrow enters the room. I blink and say, “Thank you, darling, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Mary? Is everything—”
I hang up and look at Dr. Yarrow. He gives me a wary smile, then walks out the door. As soon as it closes behind him, I drop to my knees and grip my hair in both my hands. My heart pounds heavily.
Could Annie be responsible for the plague that is consuming this family?