Homemade Sin (28 page)

Hussey, holding Roland's arm, slipped up beside Obadiah as he led the mourners toward his bungalow. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

“With that frying pan and all those groceries maybe Mama will finally get herself a decent meal.” Obadiah smiled. “Lord knows she like to have starved to death when Bella cooked.”

Hussey noticed him cringe at the word death. “Speaking of Bella, what happened to her?”

“No idea,” Obadiah said. “When I found Mama all cold and curled up like that, Bella was nowhere around. She's probably off mourning in her own way. She's blind and simple minded; probably wandering around in the woods lost and scared. I did find some of Mama's potions and such were missing, she kept them in a special order and I can tell someone's taken some of them. One of the bottles that's gone missing is one of her zombie powders.”

“Do you remember what the zombie powder said on the label?” Hussey didn't believe Bella was as simple minded as Obadiah thought.

“Yeah, I believe it was some of that Mambo powder of yours,” Obadiah said.

“Bella doesn't know how to use it,” Hussey said. “She could end up killing people if she tried.”

They walked along in silence for a while and then Hussey fell back into the crowd and let Obadiah walk alone. Roland leaned over and said to Hussey; “Can you tell me now? What is the deal with the rooster and the corn and the water?”

“It's symbolic,” Hussey said. “The paradox of Buridan's Ass. The paradox says that an entirely rational ass, placed exactly in the middle between two stacks of hay will starve to death since it can't decide which to start eating first. Or a man might die trying to choose between two equally plausible routes of action. Voodoo guides the man toward one course of action or the other, like telling the ass to eat the hay on the right first, instead of the left.”

“But the rooster is out of reach of both the corn and the water,” Roland said, “he doesn't have a choice. He will die of either hunger or thirst.”

“That's the point” Hussey said. “It's always something.”

Hussey and Roland stayed a while at the reception. Hussey chatted with the mourners while Roland stood over in a corner and people-watched the attendees. Hannah Paine sidled up beside him and handed him a paper plate loaded with fried chicken, baked ham, potato salad, and yeast rolls. As she handed the plate to Roland she started up a conversation, which was actually more of an interrogation.

“So, Roland,” Hannah said. “Where did you and Hussey meet?”

“We met at my hote—”

“We met at medical school.” Hussey appeared at Roland's side slipping her arm through his. “Roland's in his last year of med school.”

“Well, that's in your favor,” Hannah said, “I'd rather have a rich doctor in the family than another witch doctor. Oh, let me give Obadiah my condolences.” She wandered off.

“I'm a doctor?” Roland said to Hussey as soon as Hannah was out of earshot. “Is that why you said the Fugu Lounge is only my hangout?”

Hussey watched Hannah out of the corner of her eye, hugging Obadiah. “I had to tell her something. I couldn't tell her Cutter lost all of my tuition money, and you're the bartender at the bar where I work. Just play along.”

“Hotel and bar owner,” Roland retorted as he watched Hannah pat Obadiah on the shoulder, give him a consoling peck on the cheek then head back to where Roland and Hussey were standing. “And aspiring writer. Don't forget aspiring writer.”

“Unless you own the Paradise Hotel and she can open up the New York Times and see your name on the bestseller list, you're a bartender to her.” Hussey whispered as Hannah approached. “I don't need the grief right now, so just play along … please?”

“Are you two young doctors ready to head back home?” Hannah said as she eased in between Hussey and Roland

“Sure, Mom.”

“And what were you two whispering about over here? Maybe planning for the future? I'd sure like to see some grandchildren before I'm too old to enjoy them.”

“Just doctor stuff, Mom,” Hussey said.

When Hannah turned and had taken a couple of steps toward the door, Roland said under his breath, “More like playing doctor.”

Hussey elbowed him in the ribs and pushed him toward the door. “Behave,” she whispered, “or I'll see if I can find a runcible spoon at mom's house.”

After dinner that evening Hussey and Roland were rocking gently on the swing on the Paine's front porch. Hannah had excused herself to clear the dinner dishes.

“Would you mind if I took a walk, alone, for a little while?” Hussey said to Roland. “I need some time to myself to think about Mama Wati, maybe go to the graveyard one last time and say goodbye.”

“Sure,” Roland said. “I can get to know your parents.”

“Don't you dare,” Hussey said. “I want you to still like me when I get back. And watch what you say, I want them to like you too.”

A few minutes later Hussey found herself at the graveyard at Mama Wati's crypt. The rooster, still tethered by the crypt, eyed her menacingly. “It's your lucky day,” Hussey said to the rooster as she released him. “Sometimes when you're faced with two dead ends, providence intervenes. I guess that makes me providence. Now shoo!” Hussey watched as the startled rooster flapped off though the gravestones.

Hussey took out a candle from her pocket, lit it, and sat in front of Mama Wati's final resting place.

“You were like a mother to me,” Hussey said to the crypt.

The candle flickered and blew out. Hussey could feel a cold hand on her shoulder. She sensed the presence of Mama Wati. In her head and she heard Mama Wati say, “That Mambo powder you came up with is the real stuff. That concoction is going to make you a whole mess of money someday and help a lot of people. Don't underestimate it. And you best keep an eye on that slatternly waitress you work with. She's getting herself in some deep buzzard puke. Make me proud girl.”

“Saying goodbye to Mama?” Madam Zola had slipped up behind her unheard. Startled, Hussey stood up quickly and turned toward the psychic.

“Yes,” Hussey said, catching her breath and then relaxing at the sight of Madam Zola. “I can't believe she's gone.”

“Oh, she's not gone,” the psychic said. She took Hussey's hand. “She lives on in the apprentices she taught, like the man who taught her lived on in her. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Hussey said. “I think he would like that I'm studying to be a doctor.”

“I was talking about you being a voodun,” Madam Zola said. “That man was the best voodun we ever had in Cassandra.”

“My … my mother's father was a voodun?” Hussey was flabbergasted.

“Who do you think taught Mama Wati?” Madam Zola said.

When Hussey arrived home from her trip to the graveyard she found Roland and her mother sitting on the front porch drinking sweet tea, chatting and looking through an old photo album.

“Your mother was telling me about your acting career.” Roland smiled and held up a picture of three teenage girls dressed in black dresses, on a high school stage, gathered around a large black cauldron. Dry ice was sending tendrils of fake smoke steaming out of the cauldron and creeping across the stage floor. “Which witch were you?”

“I played Varmeta, the weird sister in the center, and you should know we weren't witches, we were three roadside psychics stirring a pot of Brunswick stew, instead of three witches stirring a cauldron like in Macbeth. Did you tell my mom you wrote that play?”

“You wrote
Shakespeare in the Trailer Park
?” Hannah Paine said, impressed. “My, my, a doctor and a writer. When did you find the time?”

Roland cut his eyes toward Hussey.

“Hussey was so good in the play,” Hannah said. “She also played Barbie Q Bacon.”

“All the psychics played other parts,” Hussey said. “The psychics were only on for a couple of minutes during the opening scene.”

“Didn't Cutter play Hameo?” Hannah laughed. “Remember the pink flamingos, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? They were spies and they kept moving their heads to follow what the actors were saying.” She laughed again.

“I remember my big death scene before the Tempest that flattened both mobile home parks,” said Hussey.

“‘A plague o' both their double-wides,'” Hussey and her mother said in unison.

“Have you written any other plays?” Hannah said to Roland.

“Well, my medical career doesn't give me a lot of time, but I'm working on some novels.” Roland again glanced at Hussey.

“Hussey, don't let this one get away.” Patting Roland's knee, Hannah continued. “Well, it's time for bed. Roland, I made up the guest room for you, and Hussey, I put clean sheets on the bed in your room.”

Hussey smiled at Roland and then laughed. “Too bad we don't have a balcony; we could do the balcony scene with Hameo and Barbie Q tonight.

Roland laughed and quoted:

“‘But, soft!What light through yon bug zapper breaks?

It is the east, and Barbie Q is the sun.

Arise, sunshine and show me thy beautiful moon.

Come, get thyself a cold one.'”

Hussy responded:

“‘Oh Hameo, Hameo!

Wherefore art thou Hameo?

Deny thy Trailer Park and refuse thy NASCAR driver;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Rebel Buford fan.'”

Roland almost choked on the mention of Rebel Buford.

“Didn't Rebel Buford crash at Daytona a few days ago?” Hannah said, stopping just inside the screen door.

Roland watched Hussey's face for some glint of recognition or guilt as she cast her eyes to the floor.  Roland could see the cheek muscles tighten as if she were grinding her teeth.

“I don't follow NASCAR,” she said.

She knows something, Roland thought.

Hannah Paine was descending the stairs when Roland and Hussey came in. As she turned and headed for the kitchen she called over her shoulder; “Well, I'm going to get a glass of water and go to bed. See you kids in the morning.”

Hussey stopped at the bottom of the stairs, took a step toward the kitchen, then and turned back toward Roland. “I think I'll go and have a little chat with my mother. You know where the guest room is, right?”

“Your mom showed me while you were out.”

Hussey gave Roland a parting grin and followed her mother into the kitchen. Hannah was filling a glass from the tap.

”Mom, I have something to ask you,” Hussey said.

“I approve,” Hannah said. “I think he's a nice guy, and he's a doctor and a writer. He's head and shoulders above that Cutter. I never trusted that boy.  I always thought his driveway didn't go all the way up to the house, if you know what I mean.”

“No, that's not it,” Hussey said. “I want to ask you about your father, my grandfather.”

“Wonderful man, salt of the earth,” Hannah said, taking a sip of water.

“Did he practice voodoo?”

Hannah dropped the glass into the sink. The glass shattered and water splashed all across the front of her dress.

“Your grandfather was a country doctor,” Hannah said, a little shaken. “He used whatever worked to heal people. Sometimes he used some strange potions and powders he mixed up in the little room upstairs in his house, but voodoo? Don't be ridiculous.”

“Madam Zola said he taught Mama Wati voodoo. Is it true?”

“Mama Wati was his housekeeper.” Hannah picked shards of glass out of the sink. “When she was a young girl, she used to help him mix powders and poultices in his little laboratory. I snuck in there once when I was a little girl, and I did see some strange things. Rows and rows of potions and powders: weird stuff pickled in jars on the shelves. And he had this big leather book called Conjures he was always scribbling in.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Hussey said and then realized what her mother had said. “Did you say he had a leather-bound book called Conjures?”