Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig

Emma

Iwalked beside Jezebel down the long hallway and toward the screen door to the porch. Before we made it to the door, she led me into a sitting room. In a basket were blankets. Jezebel lifted one and handed it my direction.

“It has to be eighty-five degrees,” I said as I took the wool blanket.

“It’s not for the temperature. Sitting outside, there will be mosquitoes. Wrap up and they won’t get you.”

The scratchy blanket was in my grasp. “Do you have any bug repellent?”

Jezebel shook her head. “I don’t believe in chemicals.”

“You gave me tablets to sleep.”

Her blue eyes met mine as a smile came to her lips. “There was nothing in them.”

We both wrapped the blankets around our shoulders and settled into two big rocking chairs. The hum of flying bugs began the chorus of night noises. Crickets and toads added their sounds until the dark world beyond the porch was vibrantly alive in my mind. Not all the creatures I imagined were capable of being kept away with a wool blanket.

“If the bugs are too annoying,” Jezebel said, “Edmée has a recipe for a lotion that will help in the future.”

I sighed, looking out into the darkness. “I don’t want to stay here long enough to need that.”

Jezebel nodded. “Your brother was right about one thing.” She didn’t let me try to guess what that was. “We should have brought you here sooner.”

Standing, I readjusted myself, sheltering my feet from the mosquitoes. Sitting again, I pulled my bare feet up onto the chair and tucked the blanket around me. There were probably already a few nibbles to my exposed flesh. Once I settled, I said, “I don’t have an answer for that.”

“It’s true. You’ve been influenced by your husband.”

My head shook as I swatted away something flying close to my head. “I suppose I have.”

“My earlier question about manipulation...has he manipulated you?”

Sighing, I gave that some thought. “I don’t think I can give that an unbiased answer. I’d like to think I’m not manipulated.” I turned to her. “No, he hasn’t manipulated me. He’s informed me. He was the person who explained who I really am and my role in New Orleans.”

“What did he say?”

“That I was to marry him and rule with him.”

“With him?”

“Beside him, Mother.”

“And you feel he was honest about that? He wants your input?”

My mind filled with instances where my input had been welcomed and other times when it wasn’t met as fondly. “I think he’ll listen. When we’re together and alone, he will listen.”

“And you think you have a voice, or is it part of the manipulation, him only letting you think you do?”

I rose to my feet and stood at the railing on the edge of the porch. The pitch darkness seemed to go on forever. Without turning, I asked, “Are you trying to say you don’t think I have a voice?”

“Emma, my experience is very limited with what goes on between a husband and wife. I’ve never married. You said you willingly married him and that now you think you love him.”

I spun toward her. “I do love him. I don’t think I do. I know I do.” A day ago or maybe even hours ago, I might have been surprised by the conviction I heard in my own voice, not now. I knew I meant every word. “And I have a voice. Rett listens even when he doesn’t want to.” A smile came to my lips as I recalled our dinner in the conservatory and opening his gift of a key.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I sat again in the chair.

Jezebel reached over to my hand and covered it. “You are...” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“I can’t imagine what you think of me. I’m not Kyle and I’m not you. I honestly don’t know what you expected to find.”

Taking her hand back, Jezebel laid her head against the back of the chair and rocked, the runners of the chair clicking on the wood floor of the porch. “Emma, I’ve thought a lot about you since before you were born. Life has taught me not to make assumptions or snap decisions. As I said, I’ve also watched you and tried to protect you.”

“When did you go to Pittsburgh?”

Jezebel exhaled and continued rocking her chair back and forth. “After I gave you to Mr. Michelson, I made myself stay away from you and Kyle until I couldn’t. The first time I traveled to North Carolina, I believe you were five. Since then, I’ve gone where you and he were whenever it was right.”

My mind wasn’t computing her entire sentence. “Mr. Michelson?”

“Yes, he was the young attorney who helped me with your birth certificates and placement. He found the O’Briens and made sure they would raise you both with the stipulation you were two different ages.”

“The same man who is now a prosecutor for Louisiana?”

She turned my way. “I’m surprised you know that. Yes, that’s him.”

“He questioned me today” —I looked out at the darkness— “or yesterday.” Before Jezebel could answer, I added, “When Kyle and I were very young, we lived in Tennessee. I don’t remember any of that. When I was four...” I realized I’d need to do that math again. “...anyway, before we started school, we moved to North Carolina. Because of college, I moved to Pittsburgh. After everyone died, I decided to stay there.”

“The O’Briens understood the threat of danger to both of you. It was difficult for them to pretend you were eight months apart when you were babies. That’s why they had to move later.” She sighed. “They were good people. They gave up their family and friends to keep you safe.”

“Wait? We had family?”

“Yes, you have me.”

My head shook. “No, I’m talking about the O’Briens. I had this memory of grandparents, but I thought it was something that I concocted in my young mind. Because once I really had memories of my childhood in our home in North Carolina, we didn’t have any extended family.”

“Marcella’s parents are still alive. I believe Oliver has a brother.”

I laid my head against the wooden chair. “I didn’t contact them. They don’t know what happened to their family.” I turned to Jezebel. “How do you know this?”

“I listen to the spirits and pay attention.”

“Did you...?” I thought for a moment, wondering how to phrase my question. “Were you involved...? Are they really gone?”

Jezebel smiled. “That’s the most indecisive I’ve heard you be, Emma. Come, that won’t do. Show me your strength.”

“I guess I’m afraid of what I’ll learn.”

“Tell me why?”

“If the O’Briens aren’t dead, that means they agreed to let me think they were, just like Kyle. And that would be...hurtful. And if they are dead, and I learn you were involved in their death after even you admitted what good people they were...it would affect the way I see you.”

“How?”

“How could it not?” I responded.

“What is it that you find upsetting or repulsive?”

“I didn’t say repulsive.” My mind pondered her question. “In the car you said Ian and Noah were disposable. I don’t see life that way.”

“I didn’t use the word disposable. I said they were expendable. There’s a difference.” She inhaled, wrapping her blanket tighter around her. “Is it the act of killing you find hurtful?”

“It is...wrong.”

“Even if it serves a greater function?”

I shook my head, conflicted.

Jezebel nodded. “What do you think your husband does to maintain his power?”

I knew the answer. There were rebuttals on the tip of my tongue, excuses even. However, as I sat there in the darkness with the chorus of insects buzzing and toads croaking, I was beginning to see Jezebel’s point.

How was it right to excuse him and not her?

“You were involved in their deaths.” I didn’t phrase it as a question because it wasn’t.

“Yes, Emma, I was involved but not as you assume. The accident was supposed to be survivable for all three. I don’t know what happened, but while Kyle survived, the O’Briens didn’t. It was an unfortunate byproduct. They had done all that was asked.” She sighed. “Sometimes we must simply accept outcomes even if they aren’t exactly what we intend. If you’re to fulfill the prophecy, you’ll need to face decisions of life and death. No city can be run by a leader who isn’t willing to deliver the necessary consequences. There will be times that personal feelings may want to interfere. It’s easier not to have those types of emotions, but eliminating them takes time.”

My mind filled with memories of the O’Briens. No longer did I concentrate on their deception, how they never told me I was adopted. I now saw their choices through a clearer lens. They’d been charged with protecting me and Kyle. When we moved to North Carolina before starting school, they sacrificed their own family for us, for our family unit. They created the illusion that was necessary for our safety.

“They were good parents,” I said. It wasn’t meant to hurt Jezebel. I hoped it would help her, to let her know that we’d been well taken care of.

She sighed. “The world isn’t black and white. It’s full of all the different shades of gray. It’s difficult for people to always see that. The spirits have a clearer view. Learn to listen to them. They’ve been with you since your conception.”

Closing my eyes, I let my mind speak to Miss Guidry and Miss Marilyn. My message was the same as it was earlier in the night: tell Rett I’m safe.

“However you learn to see the contrast,” she went on, “in order to succeed, you must see it. Either people are for you or they’re against you. There’s no middle ground.”

The echo of the back screen door reverberated through the house as determined footsteps came our way. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, waiting for whoever would emerge from the interior. I couldn’t explain the sensations I was now feeling around Kyle and Liam. The only way I could describe them, even to myself, was uneasy and different.