Nel advised not to use all at the same time. She was kind as always.
“Nel? I haven’t heard that name mentioned,” said Marcel. He looked at the clock and realized it was almost 0300. “We need to get some sleep, Trak. The others will be home from the ball, and we can talk about all of this tomorrow.”
Trak nodded, turning off the lights and leaving the library with Marcel. His young twin boys were sound asleep at home with his wife. He’d been given the gift of a second chance at life, and he knew that had come from magic.
He also knew that magic could be good or evil. He was lucky to have discovered the good of it.
Trak watched as Marcel followed the path to his own home. He got into the small boat taking him to the other island and his wife. Irene had asked them if they could explain why men were so evil, desired to commit evil acts, and it was a question that Trak had asked himself many times.
For many, they would say he had committed evil acts. In his head, he was able to justify those. He did nothing evil to anyone who didn’t deserve it. Those who died by his hand were killed because they deserved to die.
He wondered if he was making up excuses or justifying things in his head, then quickly brushed that aside. As always, Alvin was swimming alongside him, gently nudging the boat now and then.
Trak smiled, reaching down to scratch the top of the old alligator’s head. It was magic that allowed him to do so. Good magic. The kind that every man should experience in a lifetime.
There was so much magic at Belle Fleur, it was suffocating at times. He couldn’t explain it, nor did he want to, but it was there all the same. As he docked the boat, tying it off, he walked slowly toward the house. He didn’t want to wake anyone, especially Lauren.
Stepping onto the porch of his cabin, he smiled. There she was lying on the long porch swing. Her silvery blonde hair covered her shoulders, her delicate hands tucked beneath her cheek.
She’d waited for him as she always did. She didn’t try to follow him or force him to come home. She always gave him freedom to do what needed to be done. More than fifty years of marriage. Two sets of twins. Grandchildren.
A life he never dreamed possible.
Bending at the waist, he gently slid his arms beneath her and lifted her easily, kissing her sweet red lips. She nuzzled close to him, smiling, knowing his scent, his body, his comfort.
“You’re not like them,” she whispered. He could only smile, not surprised that she knew exactly what had been weighing on him.
“I know,” he said, kissing her again.
“You’re a good man. The best man in the world.”
“You’re biased,” he chuckled softly. He laid her on the bed and turned off the lights as he undressed. In her soft silk shorts and pajama top, he pulled the blanket over her and crawled in beside her.
“I’m biased because I know the truth. You’re the best man I know, and I know many.”
Trak said nothing, holding her tightly to his body. This was his safe place. The place where all the demons, all the darkspirits, left his brain. He was always at peace when Lauren was in his arms. She turned slightly, touching his face.
“Make love to me.”
“Always.”
When dawn broke, he was wide awake as usual. He showered, dressed, and, with a half-dozen other men, met in the cafeteria.
“So it worked? Aislinn had a vision?” he asked.
“She definitely saw death, horrible, horrible death, and a woman cursing the Hampton family,” said Nine.
“Was her name Nel?” asked Trak.
“I don’t think she heard a name,” said Gaspar. “Why do you ask?”
“Marcel and I searched through the plantation records, diaries, bibles, everything yesterday and last night. We finally worked our way to the store purchases and logs.”
“That was smart,” said Miller. “We should have thought of that.”
“There were so many things I didn’t know, but he did. But there was one entry that could be a lead.” He pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and slid it to the others. “That’s exactly what it said.”
“Nel. I don’t know if I’ve heard that name. We’ll have to ask Grover if he recognizes that name. It could help us to find an ancestor.”
