A Wishing Moon (5 page)

Even in the home on Constance Avenue, the dead walked besides the living. Nanette’s mother, Patrice, still resided with the family–even though she had died thirty years previously. She and her grandmother were usually unaware of her presence unless she insisted Angelique pass a message to her daughter or her granddaughter.

Angelique didn’t pretend to understand all there was to know about being dead, but she did know the choice to haunt or go beyond the veil didn’t seem to always be theirs to make. Moving on or going to the light didn’t seem to be an option for everyone. Some souls seemed to be tied to a location as if by an unseen rope. Despite her exposure to Catholic doctrine, Angelique suspected reincarnation waited for a soul once they let go of their earthly bonds, but she’d seen some souls who had been ghosts for hundreds of years. There were just some things one didn’t find out until you became a ghost yourself.

Driving down the road, even in the dark, Angelique could still see ghosts. Despite the cliché, it was true, they glowed—they gave off their own ethereal light. Sometimes they moved as orbs or incandescent balls, when they were in that form Angelique didn’t notice them as much. Modern day ghost hunters had discovered the orb phenomenon in digital photographs, but Angelique could see with her natural eyes what even the cameras at times couldn’t.

While driving down the road from New Orleans, their car had passed ghosts standing on the side of the highway at scenes of tragic car accidents, which had taken their life years ago. They passed homes where Angelique could see the dead standing in the yard or sitting on a porch swing. To Angelique’s eyes, cemeteries were especially unnerving after dark, because she could see the glowing forms of the residents walking among the graves. During the day, there was a difference—the glow of the dead was not as evident and they looked like anyone else from a distance, unless the clothing or the oddity of their movements betrayed their status.

They traveled steadily, stopping only for coffee and a bathroom break in Lufkin, a small town in East Texas. During the needed break, Nanette called Arabella to let her know they were on their way. Evangeline noticed her grandmother seemed nervous. “I can’t let death steal another member of my family,” she worried out loud. As they resumed their journey, she kept looking out the window. “My, I don’t like this part of the road. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Angelique looked on either side of the narrow highway. The bleak road was lined with thick, pine forest on both the right and the left. “Something bad happened here.”

This intrigued Evangeline. “I’ve never envied you your gift, Angelique. I enjoy looking at my world unburdened by the reality of spirits and specters. But today, I’m curious. What do you see?”

Angelique spoke softly and evenly without displaying any emotion whatsoever. Apparently, these things bothered her much more than she let on. “I see pioneers or settlers; there are also covered wagons and horses—but something has gone terribly wrong. The people are bloody and torn, victims of a massacre. I hear them wailing a horrifying tale about being attacked by Indians. Even now, they stand in an eternal vigil pointing the way to safety.”

Nanette had been sitting there quietly, but it seemed she could sense the murdered dead also. “They think they are protecting people who travel this way. Forever they linger here to warn of a danger that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Evangeline shivered a bit; glad her gifts differed from her grandmother and Angelique. Her
magical talent was truly unique. She could read the living, as she had in the magick shop—but that ability was rather common among her kind. The truly great power Evangeline possessed had to do with the weather; she could make rain or stop a downpour. With just a few words of a psalm and an offering of rice and water, Evangeline could raise a storm and call down lightning. Perhaps she could even make snow—she had never tried. Maybe, during this Yule, calling up a snow event would be fun. Evangeline had inherited this gift from her great grandmother Patrice who had used it to great benefit on the Louisiana farm where she had lived.

They were getting close, going through Austin on Interstate 35; they passed the University of Texas on the right as they were heading south toward San Antonio. She could see the tower that was always lit up in burnt orange lights when the Longhorns were victorious. This same tower had been the scene of one of the first major school shootings in 1966. An engineering student had taken a deer rifle to the top of the tower and opened fire on the innocent and unsuspecting who walked across campus at just the wrong moment. Sixteen people were killed and thirty-two injured—and Texas had never forgotten. Nearer to the freeway stood the Daryl K. Royal Memorial Stadium where the Longhorns played their awesome game of football. If Nanette were not so tense about what she had seen while scrying, Evangeline would have brought up her desire to transfer to UT again. Maybe after all of this was worked out, she could make her case again. The miles were passing quickly; soon they would be at the exit that would take them to Wildflower Way.

* * * *

The call Arabella received from her grandmother had not come as a complete surprise. She was thrilled to welcome her family to Wildflower Way
for an extended stay; this big house could be lonely at times. One thing bothered her, however. Between her grandmother’s concern for her family, and the turmoil over poor Kathy and Lea’s disappearance, there would be very little time left to concentrate on
him
. Memories of last evening’s midnight interlude were still fresh enough and hot enough to cause her to break out into a proverbial sweat.

Arabella was sorely tempted to drop everything and head out to E-Rock to see if she could pick up on anything from just being at the scene of their encounter. Right now, that would be impossible, she just had too many irons in the fire—but she would not forget him. Finding out more information about him was high on her list of priorities. One thing she desperately wanted to know was his name; thinking of her dream lover as ‘him’ didn’t feel right anymore. Maybe she could get Evangeline to travel out to Enchanted Rock with her later today or tomorrow.

Arabella freshened and prepped all four guestrooms after she had talked to Nanette. She would put Angelique in the pale yellow bedroom she preferred and Nanette in the room that overlooked the creek. Her grandmother preferred a room with a window that faced the west; she had always hated the morning rays of the sun to intrude upon her morning slumber. The idea had often crossed Arabella’s mind that her grandmother might be part vampire since she kept so much more of a night owl schedule than the rest of the family, and absolutely abhorred the bright rays of the sun. Nanette always said it was due to her eyes being weak, but Arabella liked to kid her about the possibility, anyway.

One of Nanette’s great, great grandmothers had come to New Orleans from France as one of the infamous ’casket girls’, young women brought across the sea as prospective brides for well-to-do Creole gentlemen. This had been in the early 1700’s. The term ’casket girls’ had come from the oblong cases filled with their trousseaus that had been furnished the girls by either the French government or their families, if they had been able. For the most part the young women had been from orphanages, as had Nanette’s ancestor, Genevieve. The greatest gift Genevieve brought with her had been ancient, magical knowledge, which had been passed down to her from those who had walked the path of the moon and had lit bright bonfires in the name of the Great Mother, the queen of heaven. After Genevieve’s assimilation into the unique melting pot of South Louisiana, she allowed her European pagan ways to meld with what she learned from her house slaves who had been both Haitian black and American Cherokee. Genevieve had been one of the first to practice the magical mix that resulted from uniting three diverse cultures into one mystical gumbo now called hoodoo.

Arabella waited until she knew her mother was probably up before giving her a ring. She wanted to call and tell her Nanette, and the others were on their way and she would be welcome to head on north if she chose to do so. After only two rings, her mother answered.

“
Hello darling, how did you sleep?” Her mother’s voice, literally, purred the provocative question. Obviously, Arabella didn’t have to wonder if Elizabeth had picked up on her daughter’s x-rated dreams.

“
Mother…” Arabella pronounced the personal pronoun with mostly mock warning. “Please…” She felt like a fourteen year old again.

“
I’m not judging, dear.” Elizabeth laughed. “Actually, I’m jealous. I wish my nights were filled with such amorous adventure. Who is he, by the way? I don’t know him, or do I?”

“
Mother, he isn’t…I mean…there isn’t, oh shoot. I don’t know what I mean. I’ll explain it to you the best I can when you get here.”

“
Actually, I’m almost out the door. Mother and the rest are on their way aren’t they?”

“
Can’t hide anything from you, can we?”

“
Never could.” There was a pause. Arabella assumed she was checking her watch. “I’ll be there in about five hours.”

“
Take care,” Arabella murmured. “See you soon.” She blew out a long breath. All of a sudden, her life seemed quite complicated.

Chapter Three

Jade could hear the gentle buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights as he lay perfectly still. After all, he couldn’t move a muscle. He wasn’t getting any better and evidently, he never would. Even though Dr. Reynolds and the others were not convinced he heard or understood, they had gently told him he was a tetraplegic. Jade knew about being a paraplegic or a quadriplegic, but apparently, tetraplegia was a whole different ball game. His life had become a burden—a horror—and he didn’t even have the personal power or ability to bring his nightmare to an end.

A nurse had come in and read a legal document to him. She was probably required to do so just in case he could comprehend. It seemed they were transferring him to a long-term care facility called
Tranquility
Place
. The sappy name alone made him wish he could gag—he knew there would be no tranquility for him. Every moment he lived constituted sheer hell; machines were keeping him alive and his caretakers were not even thoughtful enough to turn on a TV at the slim chance he would be aware of the picture or noise. So he looked at the ceiling; he wasn’t even propped up enough to see around his own room. With no close family of his own, and a fiancé who had been cold enough to have left her engagement ring lying on his chest, Jade only had Reese to check on him and even his visits were getting fewer and farther apart. It seemed the doctors were right. The mercurial rise of the charismatic Jade Landale, former darling of the Austin political scene, had come to a screeching halt. In fact, he could see nothing in his future except loneliness and the never-ending hopelessness of being frozen in place like an abandoned action figure.

Nurse Edding said he would be transferred to Tranquility Place in the morning. Sleep had become his greatest comfort; he would have slept all the time if he had a choice. In his dreams last night, Jade had met the dark haired beauty once again. The excitement and pleasure he had felt with her had put to shame the pallid, one-sided sex he had experienced with Kate. Kate had just lain there like a limp doll, seemingly unaffected by any feelings whatsoever. He had been captivated by her cool beauty and she had wanted to ride his coattails to the governor’s mansion and—in her mind—possibly, the White House. She enjoyed the envy of the other members of the country club set for her conquest of the rich, eligible bachelor who appeared to have such a bright future. Now he guessed he was still rich, but it would be a far stretch to call him eligible, and he would certainly never be governor of Texas.

For ninety-nine percent of the time, Jade was alone, and the solitude made him crazy. But when he could sleep, he had the most incredible dreams. With pleasure, he pictured her in his mind’s eye. His midnight angel had been tall, but not nearly as tall as his six-foot plus frame. Her skin looked creamy and golden, her hair a silky black waterfall, which hung straight to her hips. Gentle brown eyes shone like stars, and she had a body that just wouldn’t quit. All in all, she was the sweetest, most luscious package he had ever held in his arms. Jade was a breast man, and her breasts were full, round and incredibly sensitive. He could still remember how it felt to hold her—that delicate waist, those rounded, sexy hips, and those incredible long legs that wrapped around him perfectly. God, how he longed to be with her again.

Never before in his life had he dreamed what seemed to be a continued scenario—same person, same place and same incredible circumstances. What if he couldn’t get back to her? What if he never dreamed of her again? He would go stark raving mad—maybe he already was. Last night, he’d actually pled with the woman in his dreams to find him, to come to him. Incredible as the situation seemed, on some level the woman had become real to him, more real to him than this hospital bed or the tubes that were keeping the breath flowing to his lungs. When they touched, he could feel her skin, warm and smooth. When they kissed, he could taste her breath, sweet and hot. He prayed one night he could find a way to stay in her world and be the man she dreamed about—one that stood strong on two good legs and held her close with two strong arms. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be at her side.