Chapter 8
“Why do you enjoy torturing me?” I asked as Beau secured my seat belt where I sat behind the wheel.
We were on our way to see Honey Meggison and Joan Wenzel to find out if the doll I’d found in their previous home had once belonged to their missing niece, Lynda.
If the doll was worth anything, it would belong to Honey and Joan.
Whether or not it was valuable, if it had been Lynda’s, it should remain with them anyway in the hope that they might one day return it to her.
Regardless, I was eager to get it out of my possession.
The not knowing where it would show up next had begun to unnerve me.
Unfortunately, the doll had disappeared from the demilune chest again while we were at dinner, before I’d had a chance to show it to Mimi.
Despite a search, the doll had failed to materialize.
It seemed as if it could reason on its own and knew better than we did where it belonged.
The very thought made me shudder. I knew the doll would show up again sooner or later, so Beau and I continued with our plans to visit the two sisters to confirm ownership, so I’d at least know whose mailbox to shove it into when it decided to make another appearance.
The other disappointment of the evening was Adele’s failure to communicate with Beau despite all his machinations to make it happen. He remained in the dark as to why she remained earthbound.
“I wouldn’t call making sure you are proficient in a life skill torture.” Beau reached toward me and snapped the bright red rubber band on my wrist. “Remember what this means.”
“I know, I know. Fear can’t win,” I said, repeating the words he’d said to me when he’d given me the rubber band from his own wrist. He’d used it to remember what his dad had taught him—that whether we felt afraid didn’t matter.
What mattered was that we didn’t allow our fear to get between us and our objectives.
My only argument was that my becoming a proficient driver was more Beau’s objective than mine.
“You’re getting your own car—remember?” he said, reminding me that I really should make it my goal.
But bad memories of my first motor vehicle accident, when I was a newly licensed driver back in Charleston, still made me freeze at the wrong moments, like when approaching a four-way intersection or merging onto the interstate.
Despite all the encouragement and lessons Beau had given me, I still couldn’t erase the trepidation I felt when getting behind the wheel of any vehicle that had an engine or more than two tires.
“Not that I want it. It’s sort of being dumped on me.”
“You poor thing. A classic Ford Mustang convertible in pristine condition. I don’t know how you’re holding up with that kind of burden.”
Ignoring him, I adjusted the rearview mirror, letting out an involuntary shout as the mirror reflected the rear seat. Following my gaze, Beau turned to see the doll sitting up like an actual child, its blue gaze focused straight ahead.
My eyes met Beau’s with the unasked question.
“I didn’t put her there.” He reached back and grabbed the doll. She expelled a subdued “Mama” when he tilted her forward, which was more terrifying than cute.
I held up my hands. “I promise I didn’t have anything to do with it, either. Trust me.” I pointed to my backpack, which I’d tossed on the passenger-side floor. “Put it in there. At least we have it to show Honey and Joan.”
Beau nodded as he shoved the doll into the backpack and zipped it closed, unceremoniously pressing down on the head to get it to fit. Valuable or not, neither one of us wanted to look down and see that face peering up at us.
I turned the key, my nerves jumping at the sound of the engine rumbling to life.
My phone connected automatically to the Bluetooth, prompting the unsettling realization that I spent way too much time with Beau and his truck.
Only relatives and the best of friends should have automatic connection rights to Bluetooth and Wi-Fi.
I was definitely not a relative, and although I wasn’t sure how to classify our relationship, we certainly weren’t the best of friends.
I had just made it to Carrollton Avenue when my phone rang and Sarah’s name came up on the dash screen.
I hit the Answer button on the steering wheel.
“Hey, Sarah. I’m driving and this is hands-free, but I think Beau might have a heart attack if I don’t focus on the road.
Actually, I might have the heart attack, but whatever.
Is this quick, or do I need to call you back? ”
“Does that mean Beau’s there?” she asked.
Beau leaned forward. “Right here, Sarah. So make it G-rated, all right?”
I shot him a look while Sarah laughed. “I’m not even thirteen, Beau. I know nothing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. So, what is it?”
“Mom said you’re not coming for Thanksgiving.”
“I know—I’m pretty bummed. But I can’t get there without asking for money, which I’m not going to do, and besides, I’ve got lots of work here.
Thibaut’s teaching me how to repoint bricks so I can work on the exposed chimneys in my house after I finish the bathroom tiling project that’s been waiting for me to free up some time. ”
“Yeah, wow. Sounds thrilling.” I pictured her rolling her eyes. It was no longer clear who’d learned it from whom. “So, I was thinking, since I’m still just a kid living with parents, I don’t have any problem asking them to buy me a plane ticket to visit you for Thanksgiving.”
“That sounds like fun, but Jolene is trying to convince me to drive down to Mississippi with her for the holiday and to pick up a car. I’d much rather install bathroom fixtures and repoint chimney bricks, but Jolene keeps asking.
I haven’t yet agreed to go, since I’m dying to finish my renovations, and I’m not sure who’s going to win this argument. ”
“Well, that’s a no-brainer. I’ve met Jolene.
So, can I go, too? Remember how much fun we had at the Sabatiers’ beach house?
Please, Nola? You’re my favorite sister and I really want to go.
” I imagined her using the same puppy dog eyes Mardi used on me when he was begging for another treat or for a scrap from my plate.
“I’m your only sister, which by default makes me your favorite,” I pointed out. “I’ll think about it, okay? But the answer is probably going to be no. I’ll call you about it later. I’m supposed to be driving right now.” My finger hovered over the Disconnect button.
“One more thing—I promise I’ll be quick. Grandma Sarah called me again.”
I glanced at Beau. “Yeah? Anything new?”
“I think so. I didn’t understand the first thing she said, but maybe you will. Something that sounded like timespick something. I have no idea what that meant, but she kept repeating today’s date, like she wanted to make sure I remembered it.”
“Could it have been the Times-Picayune?” Beau asked.
“Yeah, that sounds right. Isn’t that the New Orleans newspaper?”
“Yes,” I said. I’d listened to the local news on the television only briefly as I got ready that morning, and I couldn’t remember anything notable. “What else did she say?”
Beau grabbed hold of his armrest as I slammed to a stop at a red light that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
Unaware of Beau’s unnecessary histrionics, Sarah continued. “She kept talking about an earring—a big gold hoop one, with, like, smaller hoops inside of it. Any idea what that means?”
I felt Beau staring at me, but I didn’t turn my head. “Yeah, I think it means that Beau and I should go see Madame Zoe.”
I looked up in time to see a sign indicating the turnoff for I-10. Without using my blinker—something I’d picked up quickly during my brief forays into New Orleans driving—I drove across three lanes so I wouldn’t miss it.
Beau jerked forward. “She’ll call you later,” he said before unceremoniously ending the call with a hard press of the steering wheel’s End Call button.
“What?” I asked as I headed the truck in the direction of Old Metairie, where the two sisters lived. “If you don’t like the way I drive, you shouldn’t have forced me.”
Despite my death grip on the wheel, and that my speed was a solid ten miles per hour below the limit, his face was completely blanched. He pointed to an upcoming exit. “Take this one.”
“But that’s not what the GPS says—” I began.
“We’re getting off the interstate and we’ll drive the back roads. I’m not going to call you a menace, because that’s what you want. And then you’ll have it as an excuse to refuse to try again, and I’m not going to allow that.”
“Fine.” I exited the highway before turning right into a shopping center parking lot without using my turn signal, then stopped the truck and got out.
Beau joined me, his expression probably matching mine. “What are you doing?”
I walked past him and climbed into the passenger seat. “I’m waiting for you to drive the rest of the way. Since you know what’s best for me.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He got in behind the wheel.
“I just think you’re being a little pigheaded about the whole driving thing.
You’ve told yourself for years that you’re a horrible driver, so that now you believe it.
” He threw the gearshift into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, jerking the steering wheel in righteous anger.
“Sort of like you telling yourself that you understand your parents’ motives and nothing anyone can say or do can convince you otherwise. Even though you have the ability to actually talk to your mother and get an answer, you have shut down all communication. And yet you call me the pigheaded one.”
We drove in silence the rest of the way, Beau clenching his jaw, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak until he’d pulled onto a residential street and stopped the truck at the curb. “I see what you did there.”
“Yeah. Sometimes being pigheaded can be an asset.”
He gave me a sidelong glance but didn’t smile. “You think I should go see that fortune teller.”
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, if only so I wouldn’t smack him on the head.
“Seriously? You were abandoned by your parents. I get that—believe me. Seen it, done it, been there. Even bought the T-shirt. But it’s not like they left you on the side of the road, you know?
They made sure that you had family who loved you and would keep you safe while they were gone.
Your parents had another child who was out there somewhere, taken by strangers to who knows where.
They were desperate to find her. Together.
Because they loved each other and didn’t want either one of them to face alone whatever it was they were going to find.
They did what they did because they loved your sister and because they loved you.
They had no idea that Katrina would happen. ”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.
This wasn’t about me. At least it shouldn’t be.
“When my mother, Bonnie, overdosed, all she left me was my father’s name on a crumpled piece of paper.
I was on my own. I’m not trying to give you a sob story; you know it all already.
I just want you to realize that your parents were light-years ahead of mine in terms of parenting skills.
From where I sit, your parents did nothing wrong. ”
Beau stared out the window as if I hadn’t said anything.
But his fingers played with the rubber band on his wrist, so I knew he’d heard every word.
I thought about touching his arm, but I stopped myself before I made it all more complicated than it needed to be.
Gently, I said, “How many ways do you have to be told something before it sinks in? I feel like I should apologize to all the rocks out there for comparing them to you. I just don’t understand what else you need to hear to be convinced that there are answers to the questions you’ve had since you were a little boy.
And there are people such as Madame Zoe who are offering their help.
I honestly don’t know what else I can say to you.
I swear, if I looked up the word ‘mulish’ in the dictionary, your picture would be there in the definition.
And ‘intractable.’ ‘Immovable.’ ‘Obdurate.’ ‘Asinine’… ”
“Stop. Okay? Just stop. You have no idea….”
I smacked my own forehead now. Not interested in hearing his explanations for acting like a stubborn toddler yet again, I flicked on the radio just to get him to stop talking.
Adele’s rich voice, singing “Rumour Has It,” filled the truck, the volume on the radio getting louder and louder on its own until Beau shut it off.
Beau drew a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. “You win.”
“No, Beau. You win.”
He turned the key, shutting off the engine before sitting back and not speaking to or looking at me for a full minute. Finally he turned to me. “So, when do you want to go see Madame Zoe?”
“I think you meant to ask When are you available? since I’m doing this for you and not the other way around. Just to be clear as to whose favor it is, like that whole thing about you not saving my guitar in the house fire back in Charleston.”
“Because I thought saving your life was more important.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask you to save me—remember?
I could have done it on my own, but I would have grabbed my guitar first. But whatever.
We’re even now. So, when are you available to go see Madame Zoe?
I can do it Saturday morning if that works for you.
I assume she’s in Jackson Square every day, but that’s just a guess.
I figure we’ll find out when we get there. ”
He stared at me for a while before answering. “Fine. Saturday morning. I’ll pick you up at nine. We can grab coffee and a beignet while we wait around if she’s not there.”
“Great,” I said, afraid to say more. That had been a lot easier than I’d anticipated. I’d imagined having to use sleeping pills, rope, and a wheelbarrow to get him to agree to see the fortune teller.
“But you owe me,” he said, then got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him and cutting off my words of protest.