Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig

Emma

The door moved, coming inward toward the stairs. The temperature rose as I moved upward as if the air became thicker as well as warmer. I took the next step, and the last, until I was at the kitchen floor. The shadows had grown while I’d been in the cellar, indicating that the sun was setting. It was still present, but getting lower in the horizon.

“Emma.”

I sucked in a breath as I stepped around the corner of the hallway.

Jezebel was seated at the table beyond the kitchen counters and appliances. No longer dressed in a colorful dress, she was wearing blue jeans, a plain shirt, and a sweater that hung below the chair. Her long hair was braided, not unlike the way I wore mine from time to time.

She didn’t look my way. Her attention was toward the back windows. “You didn’t take the tablets.”

“I’m hungry,” I said honestly.

Jezebel motioned me toward her. “Edmée made you a plate. I told her you’d be up soon.” Her gaze met mine. “Come sit with me.”

I eyed the refrigerator, wondering what other wonders of drink it held within its chilled depths.

“Come,” she beckoned.

My bare feet padded over the wood floor until I reached the table. Holding onto the top of one of the chairs, I had the strange sensation of childhood, of being caught in a lie. Looking down, I confessed, “I didn’t take the tablets. You know that because I didn’t sleep.”

“No, child, I know because I know. Those tablets wouldn’t have made you sleep. They were sugar pills.”

I pulled out the chair and sat. “It was a test.”

Jezebel nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” I made myself say the proper noun.

Jezebel took a deep breath and stood. “Let me get you some dinner.”

Rett’s concern that Jezebel was also responsible for the danger he warned about fueled my questions as she walked past me to the working area of the kitchen, only to return with a plate. There was no silver dome as there would be if Ian brought me food.

I swallowed, not ready to think about him.

The plate she brought was filled with red beans and a dark green leafy salad. It had pecans, sliced oranges, and red berries all mixed with a raspberry vinaigrette dressing.

“The beans are fresh, just shucked today,” Jezebel said as she went back and returned with a bottle of water.

My eyes opened wide. “Kyle said—”

“Kyle took the tablets.”

I opened the cap, hearing the click, and hurriedly drank nearly half the contents of the bottle. When I finished, I inhaled, enjoying the common sensation of the cool moisture on my lips and tongue. “I may need a second bottle.”

After retrieving a second bottle, Jezebel took the seat where she’d been sitting, placed her hands in the pockets of her sweater, and leaned back, all the time keeping her eyes on me. “Tell me about yourself, Emma.”

Lifting the fork, I moved the food around the plate, mentally weighing if I believed it was safe to eat.

As if Jezebel could read my mind, she offered, “I’ll taste the food for you if that will help you eat.”

I set the fork down. “Kyle took the sugar pills?”

She grinned. “And slept for fourteen hours straight.”

“I thought you said they were placebos.”

“They are. The mind is the most powerful drug. And some minds are easier to manipulate than others. Tell me, is your husband easy to manipulate?”

I stared for a moment, appreciating Jezebel’s directness.

My lower lip disappeared behind my front teeth as I considered her question. “Mother, you’re speaking of Rett in the present tense. That means he’s all right.” I shook my head. “I should know that doesn’t matter; Miss Guidry speaks of everyone in the present tense.”

“That’s because Ruth speaks to everyone in the present. As for your husband, you know he’s alive.”

There was no way to describe the relief that came with that simple sentence of verification. I blinked away the tears and picked up the fork. Jezebel’s question came back as I took a bite of the red beans. While I’d expected them to be tasteless, they weren’t. “These are sweet.”

“Yes, they’re grown on the property. I suppose they’d be called a hybrid.”

I ate some more. “They’re very good.”

“Your husband,” she prompted.

I shook my head as I took another drink of water. “I’d say no; he’s not easily manipulated.”

“Your brother?”

I nodded with a scoff. “I mean, he was. I haven’t seen him, and I suppose people change.”

“William?”

Thoughts and memories came to my mind. “I didn’t think so. Again, it’s been years. Now, I don’t know. I’d say Liam is less so than Kyle.”

“And on that scale, where does Mr. Ramses fall?”

“The least of them all.” I finished the beans and moved on to the salad. After a few bites, I turned to Jezebel. “I don’t understand. If the blue tablets were a test and Kyle took them but I didn’t, who passed the test?”

Jezebel took a deep breath. “Do you love him?”

As I contemplated her question, I had no desire to be anything less than transparent. “I didn’t want to.”

She leaned forward, placing her lower arms on the table.

I pushed the ingredients of the salad around and looked back up. “I let my heart be broken a while ago. I didn’t want to do it again, but Rett is” —I grinned— “a force of nature.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Emma, has he hurt you?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “Rett accepted my counterproposal. The first night we met he said we’d marry. I know that seems...presumptuous and odd, but even though we’d just met, I believed him. I never argued that outcome, but I told him he’d never have my heart.”

“He’s a man. He only cares about your body.” She nodded. “And you gave that or did he take it?”

“I gave it...willingly,” I added. “I don’t regret that. But my heart, I thought I had it shielded, and now I realized I didn’t. He didn’t take it, Mother. In less than two months, it slipped from my grasp to him. I don’t even know if he knows. I want to tell him.”

“Will he reciprocate?”

“Will he say he loves me?” I asked, repeating what I thought she meant. With my lips together, I stared out the back windows. The world beyond the kitchen was growing darker. I turned back. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jezebel tilted her head. “What?”

I shook mine. “It doesn’t matter what he says. I want him to know my feelings.”

“And you’ll be all right if he doesn’t offer you the same?”

I shrugged. “It’s been less than two months. I didn’t go into our relationship looking for love. Neither did Rett. If he can’t say the words, then I don’t need to hear them. I feel it.” A smile returned to my lips. “It’s in the things he doesn’t say. It’s in his eyes when he stares at me and the sweet gestures that I know are outside of his natural character. I guess if I could ask for one thing, I really want him to know.”

“Why doesn’t he know?”

This time I laughed. “Because he’s a man.”

Jezebel grinned.

“Not all men are intuitive.” I thought of Ian. “Some are. I think it has to do with their responsibilities. Rett has many. His attention is rightfully divided. I couldn’t bear if Rett never knew the way I feel.”

“You passed,” Jezebel said. “Twice and counting. You’ve shown me that you can think for yourself. And with what you just said, you have self-confidence that I admire. Kyle is...not the same. He requires continual confirmation. He also tries hard to please. It was how he was before he learned the truth about your conception. Since he learned that I was hurt, his desire to please has become obsessive. He will say or do anything he believes will please me or bring me my goal.”

“What is your goal?” I asked.

“I want what the spirits promised.”

“Control of New Orleans.”

Jezebel nodded.

“And you arranged for it to look like Kyle died to help you claim that control?”

“I did. I made a choice. I now see that it was also a mistake.”

My food was gone and so were both bottles of water. If there had been anything in it to hurt me, I wasn’t feeling the effects. I pushed my plate away from the edge of the table and leaned back in the straight chair. “Thank you for dinner. What was your mistake?”

“Believing the lies of misogyny I’d been fed all of my life.”

“Misogyny? You mean choosing your son over your daughter.”

“I didn’t do that. I wanted both of you here as you are now. And yes, I made assumptions based on gender.” She smiled. “Incorrect assumptions of the city’s acceptance of fate. I’m very proud of you, Emma.”

I didn’t understand all she was saying, but I wanted to. “Tell me how Kyle and I are twins.”

“That’s the whole story, Emma. You were conceived at the same time, born nearly twelve hours apart. Twins are no mystery. They have been born throughout the ages.”

I shook my head. “But our birthdates—”

Jezebel lifted her hand.

It was the same thing Rett did to silence people.

She took another breath. “The spirits keep reminding me that of everyone here, you know the least.”

“Miss Guidry has told me some.”

Jezebel grinned. “Ruth means well, but her allegiance is divided.”

“What do you mean?”

Jezebel shook her head. “One thing at a time. Nearly thirty—no, more specifically, twenty-eight years ago, I went to Isaiah Boudreau for his help and blessing to begin a business because to succeed in New Orleans, I needed either his or Abraham Ramses’s support. That choice too was a mistake.”

“He raped you.”

“Not right away. He led me to believe he would help me. He set me up for a fall, for public failure that he believed would rid him and New Orleans of the likes of me forever. That was his plan. This all occurred when I was younger than you are now. In hindsight, I should have gone to Mr. Ramses.”

“Rett’s father.”

Jezebel nodded. “When I did, it was too late. They had an agreement. You see, I had received a bank loan, and I had a business plan.”

“Event planning,” I said.

She smiled. “Ruth has told you. Now it’s my turn. Let me tell you my story.”

I nodded.

“I’d worked hard to create an upstanding business. New Orleans was booming. I didn’t have the education, but I did research. I talked with successful entrepreneurs. I read anything and everything I could find from books in the library to business journals. I scoured city records. Everything is public if you know where to look. I analyzed the value of land and the cost of construction. It made sense to have a small investment in brick and mortar and a bigger investment in people.

“My plan was to provide all aspects of event planning. For catering, I’d have that building, a kitchen, and cooks. New Orleans has some of the most talented cooks who never prepare anything other than dinner for their own families. I’d hire servers and waiters. There were numerous people I knew who, if given the opportunity, would make their way out of the small niche where life had placed them. These were men and women who were hard workers and willing to learn.

“Instead of investing in space for the events, I’d work with the businesses already growing, the hotels and convention center. Events didn’t need to be limited to spaces under roofs. The riverfront was developing. We have beautiful parks. I knew the cost for renting every space in the greater New Orleans parishes.

“What I lacked were people with the money to make it happen. The bank loan was a start, but I’d worked the spreadsheets and I knew, to be successful, to hit the ground running, I needed more cash flow. Mr. Boudreau arranged a meeting.” She took a deep breath. “It was supposed to be with other investors, people who had the capital to invest. He had connections to some of the biggest and most influential people in Louisiana.” Her chin rose. “Some of those people were present.”

“For the meeting?” I asked.

“The gathering wasn’t what I’d expected. I arrived prepared for questions. I had folders of research and data to substantiate my business plan.” She inhaled. “That wasn’t why they’d been invited.”

The recently consumed dinner churned in my stomach.

She continued, “Isaiah believed my humiliation would be greater if the act was witnessed.”

My eyes blinked but words were difficult to form. “No one helped you?”

Jezebel shook her head. And yet watching and listening, there was no emotion in her expression or voice, as if she was telling a story about another person, not the horrific details of her own assault.

Silence fell over the kitchen as a breeze came out of nowhere, rustling the curtains beside the windows.

“The spirits are here. They want you to understand.”