Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig

Emma

Mom.

I held tight to my own trembling hands as I twisted back, craning my neck to see what was left of the SUV and of Ian and Noah. My stomach knotted as the scenes outside the windows sped by too quickly. All that I could see of the crash was a plume of smoke rising above a growing crowd. And then we turned and the scene was gone.

My black slacks were covered in the white powder from the air bags.

“Is Ian okay?” I asked.

“He isn’t my concern nor yours, Emma.” The woman reached over and ignoring the powder all over my slacks, placed her hand on my thigh as she smiled. Rings with large colorful gemstones glistened on each finger.

When I turned, her blue eyes—the same shade as mine—stared back. The shape of her face and even her petite stature were as if I’d been created not by the union of a man and woman but from a copy machine.

My pulse thumped as my mind reeled. Images of the crash infiltrated my thoughts.

“He is my concern,” I replied. “He’s my...friend.”

“He’s your bodyguard, Emma. Nothing more. You can get another.”

I shook my head as I recalled the last six weeks. “He was both.”

“You chose a life with money and power. People are expendable. It’s a lesson that is never too early to learn.”

I didn’t respond, unsure what to say. I knew without a doubt that I didn’t believe what she’d said. Ian was my friend. While I didn’t know Noah well, Rett approved of both men. They weren’t any more expendable than Jezebel or I.

While I’d been trying to come to terms with what was happening, the car we were in had left the city streets.

Beyond the windows, we sped through traffic on the large bridge. The body of water was larger than the Mississippi River. “Where are we going?”

Jezebel tilted her head as she took me in. Her gaze went to my left hand. “I never thought you’d marry him.”

I covered my rings with my other hand. “Do you even know him?”

“I don’t. I knew his father and mother.”

Memories of what Miss Guidry had told me came back. “His mother regrets not knowing you better.”

Jezebel shook her head once. “She may now. She didn’t then. That’s all right. Expendable. I gave up the premise of being a part of that society before you were born.”

I looked for my purse, the one I’d carried to the courthouse. It must still be in the SUV. It wasn’t like I had a phone or even knew Rett’s number to call.

“I wanted to meet you, but maybe this can wait. Where are we going? I want to go home.”

“Do you know how long I waited for you to come to New Orleans?”

Jezebel’s accent was thicker than Miss Guidry’s. The two words of the city’s name sounded like one.

“You could have contacted me.”

“Before, I did.”

“Before what?” The fog from the accident was fading as I concentrated on our conversation. “You did?”

“Before you came here, I did. I visited Pittsburgh.”

A cold chill ran over my skin. “I never knew.”

“I left you gifts inside your apartment.”

The chill continued leaving goose bumps on my arms and legs. “You were in my apartment?”

“I was before that man in the SUV started hanging around.”

“Ian was in Pittsburgh?” I recalled something Rett had said about protecting me before I knew it. “What gifts?”

“There was a gris-gris containing a necklace. I put it in your jewelry box.” She reached into her purse and removed a small cloth pouch. She opened the flap and pulled out a silver chain. The pendant was a piece of jade. “I had it retrieved.”

“From my apartment? When?” I reached out and took the necklace. “I don’t remember seeing this.”

“It was hidden beneath the false base in your jewelry box.” She also handed me the cloth pouch. “It’s important for you to have it. The pouch is gris-gris, a talisman. The pouch itself is believed to protect its owner from evil and bring luck.” She nodded toward the necklace. “Jade is the jewel from heaven. It’s a symbol of nobility and wealth. This necklace belonged to your grandmother.”

Placing the pouch on my lap, I held the pendant in my hand. “My grandmother? Your mother?”

Jezebel smiled. “No, Emma, your paternal grandmother.”

“She gave it to you?”

“Not exactly. Nevertheless, it is yours. It was all right to have it hidden. Much like the gris-gris, the person in possession of the necklace receives its powers, even if that person is unaware of it. Now, Emma, it’s past time for you to be aware.”

I wrapped my fingers around the necklace. The surroundings beyond the car’s windows were changing, becoming more rural. Tall trees framed the road with moss draped from branch to branch. The foliage had grown so thick as to mute the sunshine from earlier. “Are you really my mother?”

“You know I am.”

“But what about Kyle? From what I’ve heard, you were only pregnant once. He’s claiming he is the child you bore and that his father was Isaiah Boudreau. Are you saying he isn’t your child, and that I am?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I understand this is going to come as a shock. I promise that I’ve done all I could do to protect you and Kyle. He goes by Isaiah now. That was his decision, not mine.”

“You were pregnant twice? Both times you gave birth to Isaiah Boudreau’s child?”

“No. I had one pregnancy. It was difficult. I won’t lie to you. I nearly died.”

The car was moving slower along a less traveled lane.

She went on, “That was what he wanted, for me to die, my children too. I was a reminder he didn’t want. He was wrong. You see...even evil intentions can produce good.”

I had the memory of Rett telling me that I was good, that evil doesn’t always produce evil; it can produce good. My stomach twisted as I spoke. “He raped you.” I didn’t ask the question. I knew the answer.

Jezebel smiled as she lifted her chin. “Good for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you do. You understand because you’re a woman. It took your brother a long time to come to the realization that the two of you were not conceived in some make-believe rendition of a fairy tale. The Brothers Grimm understood what fairy tales were, not what Disney has transformed them to be. The tales they wrote were dark and unnerving because that’s what life is. As women, Emma, we must know that truth deep in our souls. The charms I left you were to protect you because I wasn’t there; the O’Briens were gone. I couldn’t leave you alone, so I offered you to the spirits to protect as I had done since before you were born.”

I wasn’t noticing the increased darkness or the dense foliage beyond the car’s windows. My attention was focused on the woman speaking.

“Women like your husband’s mother, they chose to ignore or maybe they refused to see the darkness. Either way, those women aren’t better for it. They spend their lives with blinders on that limit their opportunities.” Her smile grew as her blue eyes opened wide and she stared into my gaze. “I should have known it would be my daughter who would fulfill the prophecy.”

I was still trying to comprehend what Jezebel was saying about being conceived; the spirits’ protection, fairy tales, and dark realities were beyond my current understanding. “I’m your daughter.”

Jezebel nodded.

“Kyle isn’t your child.”

“The two of you shared my womb.”

She was saying we were twins.

The car bounced as the tires left pavement and drove over uneven packed earth.

“No,” I said in response, shaking my head. “Kyle’s older. Eight months. Our mother never explained it. Once I learned I was adopted, I assumed he was the biological child of the O’Briens.”

Jezebel sighed and waved her beringed fingers. “I’ll share more. We’re almost home, and I need to rest.”

The trees opened enough for sunlight to enter. An old large plantation-style home came into view. I held my breath as I took it in. The architecture reminded me of the Old South as if it would be depicted in a movie. Trees filled the landscape, momentarily blocking the view. As we got closer, I felt the chill from earlier as a sense of foreboding settled into my bones.

“You see,” Jezebel said, “I rarely go out among so many souls. It’s so loud hearing their pleas. However, I’d come to the conclusion that if I wanted something done right, I needed to be present myself.” As the car came to a stop, her eyes closed and opened, and she took a deep breath. “This is right, Emma. It’s what the spirits wanted all along. It has taken twenty-six years and four months, but now, I feel the relief that has been missing from my soul.” She waited until the driver came around and opened her door.

He hadn’t said a word, and his silence continued as he offered his hand for her to step out.

Jezebel’s fingers curled, gesturing for me to follow.

I pushed the gift she’d given me into the pocket of my slacks.

As Jezebel stood upon the ground, golden bracelets that must have been up in her sleeve in the car jingled from her wrists. Her colorful long dress unfurled in the humid air and combs with colored jewels glistened in her long gold hair. Her appearance reminded me of a priestess in the French Quarter.

Once we were both standing on the packed-dirt driveway, Jezebel reached for my hand.

Before she could speak, my focus went to where our hands were connected. Her multiple rings glistened. That wasn’t what had my attention. It was that despite the oppressive heat around us, Jezebel’s hand was ice cold.

When I tried to pull away, her grip tightened. “This is where you belong,” she said.

“I don’t...”

Jezebel shook her head. “Close your eyes, Emma.”

It took me a second to comply.

Before I did, as insects buzzed, I scanned the area around us.

For as far as I could see, there were tall trees with low-hanging branches and veils of moss. Dark shadows lurked in the distance beneath the canopy of foliage. The hard-packed ground we stood on was an island of sorts, surrounded by pools of water and mud.

I knew enough about this ecosystem to be cognizant of the dangers that could lurk under the murky water as well as in the air. Mosquitoes and horseflies multiplied exponentially as their larvae matured in the stagnant water. There was a circle of life—the fish and frogs ate the insects while larger reptiles ate the fish and frogs. The area wasn’t without animals—mammals.

In a place like this, the mammals, even those with the advantage of opposable thumbs, weren’t always the highest on the food chain.

I looked up through the trees.

With the lush foliage, I wasn’t even sure if the large house was visible from the sky. In that second, I realized my only hope of leaving—of escaping—was to convince Jezebel North that I would listen and cooperate.

Running away as I’d done from Rett’s wasn’t an option.

Exhaling, with my hand still in Jezebel’s, I did as she asked and closed my eyes.

“Listen,” she said, “and they will talk to you. You are a child of the spirits. They protected you and me as you grew within me. They strengthened both of you when I wasn’t able. Let them speak.”

Opening my eyes, I pulled my hand away. “Jezebel—”

“I very much appreciate the hard work of Marcella O’Brien,” she said, interrupting. “She accepted the task of raising you and Kyle. She agreed to my stipulations and conceded to accept what the spirits had decreed, knowing by doing so she was saving your lives.” Jezebel’s chin rose as she looked from me to the house and back. “However, I’ve waited nearly twenty-six and a half years to hear you call me Mother.”

I concluded that she meant from the time she knew she was pregnant, as I’d only recently had my twenty-sixth birthday before coming to New Orleans.

She continued, “I must insist that you use some form of that word.” Her volume lowered. “After all, Jezebel isn’t my name, not the one my mother used.”

I sucked in a deep breath and forced the moniker from my lips. “Mother, I’m married. I married Everett Ramses, and I need to contact him. He’ll be worried.” I pushed away my concerns of Ian and Noah.

The sound of a slamming screen door brought our attention to the house.

A woman appeared on the front porch, small in stature with skin that was as dark as Leon’s if not darker. The gray in her hair and the wrinkles in her face were reliable indicators of her age. Her eyes shone brightly, like beacons in the shade of the trees near the house. The woman smiled as she fanned herself with an old-fashioned wooden collapsible fan. “Lawd, praise be, Miss Betsy. She’s here. You did it. Our girl is home.”