“In a haunted bayou,” Marie added.
“Right. Right. Right.” No, her brain couldn’t wrap around all of this. She rubbed her thumbs against her temples, as if that would press the reality into her brain. “And that room back there? Her workroom?”
“And we’d meet in there on occasion.”
“So how did you become interested in it?” She asked the question generally, but of course they wouldn’t answer unless she went one by one. “Marie?”
The woman looked over at Leslie. “We were young and rebellious. I told you about the ghost I saw, the boy who’d been missing since 1972. One night, we went back to the swamp, looking for him, and everything went sideways.” Marie looked at her hands on the table a long moment as she gathered herself to speak again. “It was bad. And after the dust cleared, your grandmother sought us out, at great risk to herself. I don’t think a lot of people in town knew what she did. She told us she’d teach us to take care of ourselves, and she did.”
“And my…did my grandfather know? Was that…room a part of the house when they got it, or did they add it?”
“It has always been there. We don’t know who added it, or what they used it for. But your grandfather discovered it, and your grandmother used it.”
Were her mother and aunt so out of touch with their parents they didn’t know what was going on? Or had they repressed the memories? She needed to talk to her mother, but she wanted to know more from these ladies first.
“Hattie?”
“I’m a third generation witch. That’s why I do what I do.”
Erielle didn’t know much about the woman, so she ventured a guess. “Cook for people, you mean?”
“Take care of people,” Hattie corrected.
Erielle looked at Allison then, who lowered her gaze, clearly not ready to share her path. She turned back to Leslie. She wanted to know her story, but the woman didn’t seem to want to share.
“So what does the book say?”
Hattie shook her head. “It’s been a while for me. I don’t remember.” She passed it over to Marie. “Do you?”
“Some of it, but remember Angeline had that book with the translations in it.” She looked at Samson’s mom, who just shook her head.
Erielle’s stomach dropped. “Another book?” She glanced toward the front of the house. “I hope I didn’t throw it out.”
“You would have noticed this one. Leather-bound, red, engraved. You would remember it.”
“Everything has been in pretty bad shape.”
Hattie and Leslie exchanged a glance.
“I’ll go look in the workroom.” Leslie left the room, Samson following her.
“Has the dumpster been dumped yet?” Marie asked Erielle.
Erielle pulled her gaze away from the direction Sam had gone. No telling what that conversation was going to be like. “No, not until next week.”
“Then I’ll get in it and see if I can find it.” Marie pushed herself up from the table.
“No, you can’t do that!” Erielle protested. “For one, gross, and for two, it’s a lot of books in there.” And it would be so hot, out in the sun during the afternoon.
“I’m not afraid of a little mess.” She started toward the door.
“Don’t you want to at least see if Mrs. Guillory finds it in here first?”
“Nah, why waste time?”
“I’m going to stay in here where the temperature is bearable and see if I can remember anything,” Hattie said, pulling the book back in front of her on the table. “Turn that light on, Erielle, would you?”
Erielle hit the switch as she followed Marie out to the dumpster.
