Healing the Bayou by Mary Bernsen Page B

think what really happened at the rituals.
    “It’s not as dramatic as you think it is.” He was smiling now, and I couldn’t help but relax now that his demeanor had shifted.
    “All right, so say she is right. Why won’t she explain it?”
    “It isn’t her place to reveal the knowledge that she has been entrusted with. The only way to understand it is to ask Filomèz yourself.”
    “Um, how would I do that?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
    “You’ll have to contact her. We’ll hold a séance tomorrow after nightfall.” He shifted under a sudden swell of anxiety. He needed clarity as much as I did and at least he had faith this spirit could give it to him.
    A large lump formed in my throat and I was afraid of even the thought. He was suggesting I contact a spirit! Contacting the dead was considered a sin in the church I grew up in. But then again, my own ability was probably considered a sin to them as well. I couldn’t believe I was considering it, but perhaps Filomèz could offer me some perspective on my future.
    “OK,” I agreed, cursing to myself as I did.
    “We shouldn’t say anything to your aunt Vivian,” he instructed.
    “Why not?”
    “She…she wouldn’t like it.”
    His obscurity was alarming. Even just this morning Aunt Vivian was the moon and the stars to him. Now his face was tensed with irritation at her expense, anger even. What had taken place at the house while I was gone? Knowing there was a good chance I had something to do with coming between them, I was swimming in guilt.
    Even so, I wasn’t going to argue. I would rather not be around her right now. I was still suspicious of her, and I wanted the distance.
    “If you think that’s best.”
    “I’ll talk to Camille about it in the morning. I’m sure she’ll understand the secrecy.”
    “I don’t understand the secrecy. Do you care to explain it to me?”
    He didn’t answer. I didn’t have the patience for the games tonight, so I gave a curt nod and walked past him.
    “Good night, Samuel.” I shook my head with frustration.
    He held out his arm to barricade my path, and I stopped short, refusing to look at his face. He wrapped his fingers around my hip and I intuitively found myself swiveling toward him. Resting my head on his chest, I closed my eyes. This man couldn’t make up his mind and he was taking me down in his spiral of uncertainty. But God help me, I couldn’t pull away from him.
    “Will you stay?” His question was frank and not expected.
    “What?” I couldn’t believe he said it.
    “For me. If Filomèz confirms what Camille said, and we are supposed to be together… Eliza, I will follow you anywhere regardless, but this is our home. Will you stay for me?”
    He had me. Dangling in front of me was the thing I most desired. I was a baited fish and whether I liked it or not, my instincts would soon take over, forcing me to try to grab my life source before it disappeared. Even if it meant losing my freedom.
     

Chapter Ten
     
     
    “Here, wear this. It will keep your spirit safe.”
    Samuel placed a black string around my neck supporting a straw bag that was closed tightly. Whatever it held was heavy. Drawn on the front of the bag in red ink was a sloppy cross with several intersecting lines striking through it, along with an inscription that read: Al-Baqara 255.
    “The Throne verse?” I thought out loud.
    “Do you know it?”
    I did. It was a famous verse from the Quran held sacred by the Muslims. So sacred, in fact, they were supposed to recite it every night. Reading it out loud was said to guarantee protection.
    “My father was a Freemason,” I nodded. “He was also a very curious man. He enjoyed learning about different religions and cultural practices. I was going through his things one day when I was a little girl and came across an entire binder full of research he had done on the Quran. Why would this help me here? You aren’t Muslim. You’re Voodoo.”
    “Voodoo is the melting