Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig

Emma

The shop, somewhere in the middle of the French Quarter, boasted futures told and palms read. The front of the store had shelves lined with jars filled with all sorts of things. There were candles and incense, oils, and books. There was a room with a crystal ball and another with sofas and soft chairs. Edmée and I had been dropped off at the back door and were currently in what was simply a break room with a microwave, coffee pot, refrigerator, and table. Compared to the rest of the shop, it was benign.

I poured myself another cup of coffee as I looked up at the clock. “Edmée, I have to get to Rett.”

“Child, be patient.”

“For what? I don’t understand any of this.”

“The spirits aren’t wrong, they never are. You’re in danger.” She took a deep breath and smiled. Her gaze narrowed. “They are working and the battle is almost over.”

“Where did my mother go?”

Edmée shook her head as her smile faded. “When you were inside of Miss Betsy—that’s the name her momma gave her. She never much cared for it. Said people always thought it was short for Elizabeth, but it wasn’t. Her given name was Betsy. Your grandmother didn’t believe in the fanfare of a longer name. Your momma thought Betsy was too plain.”

“Why would she choose Jezebel?”

“First, you should understand that before you were born, the battle began. You have been protected because you were meant to be here, Emma.” She smiled. “It’s so good to be with you.”

I reached across the table and Edmée squeezed my hand. “Did you really deliver me?”

“I sure did. You and Kyle. He was stubborn and you, oh, child, you were loud and demanding.”

I wrapped my fingers around the warm mug. “I never knew about any of this.”

“You weren’t supposed to, not until the time was right.”

“Why would my mother choose the name of someone like Jezebel?”

“’Cause Jezebel was a strong, misunderstood woman of the Bible.”

“A prostitute.”

Edmée shook her head. “You know that isn’t said; it’s assumed.”

Lifting my coffee mug to my lips, I tried to remember the story I’d learned in Sunday school, something the O’Briens insisted upon up until Kyle and I were too old for the classes our church taught. “She was a harlot and a sorceress, as I recall.”

Edmée smiled and leaned back in the chair across the table.

The sun had risen outside on St. Peter Street, yet no one else had entered the shop. We were alone as we’d been since Jezebel and Daniel dropped us here.

“Your mother is very much like the Jezebel you’re referencing, child. The part you don’t realize is that like your mother, the Jezebel in First and Second Kings was terribly misrepresented. Have you noticed that the writers of the Deuteronomy through 2 Kings failed to give any information from Jezebel’s point of view? She was a priestess, the daughter of a king, sent to Israel to marry King Ahab. Did she want to go? Was she happy? Did anyone care? We’re never told those things. Instead, the writers concentrate on her lack of acceptance of Baal or Yahweh and the monotheistic beliefs of her husband’s people. She was villainized as a foreigner and made into the embodiment of everything that should be eliminated from Israel.”

“Didn’t she have worshippers killed for praying to Yahweh?”

Edmée nodded. “She did. That incited the battle on Mount Carmel to determine the greater supreme deity.”

“Elijah won.”

“Good for you. However, it wasn’t a fair battle. First, Jezebel wasn’t allowed to attend. You see, she was a woman. The meeting occurred on Mount Carmel to vilify and degrade Jezebel, and when Elijah won, do you recall what he did?”

I shook my head.

“He had the four hundred prophets of Asherah, Jezebel’s men, murdered.” She bowed her head and looked back up at me. “And the writers of the Scriptures don’t criticize him as they did Jezebel because it was all right for him to commit mass murder but not all right for a woman.”

My thoughts went back to Jezebel’s question of whether I knew what Rett did to maintain power. The same principles from centuries ago seemed to apply today. “I’m not trying to argue, but if Mother wanted a name, it seems like she chose one that was a target.”

“She chose to make a statement of strength. She chose a name that has been misunderstood, like her. You see, Jezebel, unlike most women named in the Old Testament, showed her resilience by maintaining her beliefs. There’s no record of her being unfaithful to her husband. She encouraged him. They called her a sorceress simply because she worshipped differently. It wasn’t until King Ahab and their eldest son were both dead that the defamation occurred. There was a battle for Israel. Jezebel’s second son was the reigning king. One day he met his opponent on the battlefield and called out, ‘Is all well?’ The response from his aggressor was the source of all ill connotations related to Jezebel.”

“What did he say?”

“He replied, ‘How can all be well as long as your mother, Jezebel, carries on her countless harlotries and sorceries?’ There is absolutely nothing to substantiate his declaration, just the word of a man, the one who then killed Jezebel’s son. She isn’t mentioned again until her death scene. Even there she demonstrates her strength by preparing for death. Some interpret her preparation as a form of seduction. When in reality, the cosmetics she applied could be closer equated to her donning a female version of armor, preparing for battle as only a woman can. When her son’s murderer approaches, she speaks to him and taunts him. Again, demonstrating that she actually had a voice. Jezebel was a strong woman in the time of men. It was easy to blame her for all the wrongs of the world. Do you see the similarities?”

“I do. I also heard,” I said, “that my mother changed her name before...Kyle and I were conceived. So she didn’t do it to spite Isaiah.”

“You’re right. She didn’t. He doesn’t deserve credit. It was all her. Your momma chose her name to demonstrate her voice and strength to the world.” Edmée sighed. “She was already calling herself Jezebel when the spirits directed me to her.” She lifted her coffee mug, wrapping her fingers around it. “I too questioned the spirits, why they would choose a woman with that name and the reputation your father gave her.”

“What did the spirits tell you?”

A smile came to Edmée’s lips. “They didn’t. The spirits don’t need to explain themselves, and listening to them doesn’t eliminate other deities. Spirits don’t replace a supreme being; they often work in unison, much like the saints who some people worship. The spirits are often souls who either can’t or won’t cross over.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Their work isn’t complete.”

“Miss Guidry speaks of Miss Marilyn all the time as if she’s with her. She never mentions Rett’s father.”

“It sounds like Mr. Abraham didn’t stay. He crossed over. His work was done.”

My head tilted to the side. “People in New Orleans were really saying prayers for my safety?”

Edmée nodded.

“Why do they care?”

“Because you are the prophecy.” She grinned. “But I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”

Setting my coffee mug on the table, I looked down at the caramel-colored liquid. “They told me, I think.” When I looked up, Edmée’s smile had grown as a mixture of love and pride radiated from her dark eyes. “The spirits, I mean.”

“Keep listening, child.”

“Rett told me too.”

She took a deep breath. “Over seven years ago, your mother took an opportunity to help the spirits.” Her smile disappeared. “Afterward, she knew she’d overstepped. She’d fast forwarded the spirits’ schedule because she wanted you and Kyle in her life. It was the mistake she mentioned. Today, she’s doing what she can to right that wrong.”

“What did she do?”

“Miss Jezebel can be very convincing.”

It was the first time I’d heard Edmée call her by that name.

She continued, “Your mother had many friends and a thriving business.”

I nodded. “I heard about that.”

“I’m sure you have. The thing is that while her business sold sex, they collected more than money. They collected secrets. You can’t blame her bitterness regarding Mr. Boudreau.”

I shook my head.

“When she realized the precariousness of the state of affairs in New Orleans, she set up what she thought would be his downfall. It was meant to ruin him.”

I thought for a moment. “Seven years ago? That’s when Rett took over New Orleans.”

“Yes, child. The city was supposed to all go to his father.” She shrugged. “Maybe Abraham’s work was done and he was ready for his son to reign. No matter, your husband’s triumph was a surprise to many of us. Today, your momma is doing what she can do to give the control back to the spirits, allow them to choose.”

“Choose what?”

“New Orleans’s leader.”

“I don’t understand. You said I’m the fulfillment of the prophecy. I should rule with Rett.”

Edmée took a deep breath. “I pray that we’re right with the spirits. We’ll know soon. I feel it.”

As she spoke, the back door to the shop opened.