Residue (33 page)

“
Isabella…” she said, stunned.

“
Helene,” said my mother, breaking into a smile for the first time since I’d seen her back.

Clearly, they remembered each other. Ms. Veilleux came around the desk then, stumbling in shock as she made her way to my mother, opening her arms for an embrace.

“
I didn’t receive word,” she muttered.

When they pulled away, my mother explained, “I didn’t know I’d be coming either. It was an emergency.”

Ms. Veilleux’s eyes, I noticed, didn’t widen with concern. They became more concentrated, aware.

To alleviate her fears, my mother hurried to explain, “Jocelyn went missing but, as you can see, she’s back.” She paused to frown again. “Now I’m looking for her cousins.”

Ms. Veilleux blinked. “All of them?”

My mother’s lips pinched closed and she nodded once firmly.

“
They’re not in class?” she said, seeming to already know the answer. Without waiting for one, Ms. Veilleux sighed and dropped her gaze to the floor in contemplation.

“
Jocelyn,” said my mother. “Why don’t you join your class? I’ll be here when it ends.” Then she turned back to Ms. Veilleux. “Let’s work together and see if we might be able to figure out where they’ve gone.”

That was my cue to leave so I did and headed for Ms. Boudreaux’s room. When I entered, the class fell quiet but only briefly and then went back to listening to the lecture Ms. Boudreaux was giving on best practices with voodoo dolls. Only Jameson kept his eyes on me as I circled the room to stand next to him. They were intense and alert, making me wonder why until I began weaving through the students.

Then I realized what Jameson had been disturbed by.

The Caldwells were missing, too.

As I came to stand next to him, he purposefully shifted his arm so that it came in contact with mine. The bulge of his muscles caused a distraction until I heard his voice in my head.

“
Have you seen your cousins?”

“
No,” I replied back telepathically. “And I saw that your brothers and sisters aren’t in class either…”

“
They weren’t home when I got there so I don’t know what they’re up to.” The uncertainty in his tone was tainted worse by his nervousness. “They have to be close by though,” he added. “Their cars are here…”

“
You don’t have any idea where they could be?” I asked, meaning both families.

“
No…I wish I did,” he said pensively.

“
Jameson…I have an uncomfortable feeling about this…”

I heard him sigh out loud and then respond by channeling, “Me, too.”

Then the worst possibility came to me. “You don’t think they’re together?”

He didn’t respond right away, seeming to decide whether to admit what was truly bothering him. “That is exactly what I’m worried about.”

We didn’t speak the remainder of the class but I was absolutely certain that Ms. Boudreaux could have been speaking an alien language and we wouldn’t have noticed.

I felt, and I was sure Jameson did too, like a trapped animal. Unable to move, waiting for the worst to come.

When the class did end, we exited out into the courtyard with the rest of the students where they disappeared down the tunnel toward the street. Ms. Boudreaux asked us if we needed anything after seeing us loiter but I mentioned that we were waiting for our relatives, which was actually true. She took this at face value and left for her vehicle, too.

Finally, Jameson and I were alone.

I could see the light was off in Ms. Veilleux’s office, which meant she and my mother likely went offsite to find my cousins. It also meant I would need to wait for her to return. In the interim, I took a seat on the nearest brick planter next to Jameson, stretching our legs out in front of us and using our hands to prop our arms along the sides of our bodies.

The awareness of Jameson so close to me was both thrilling and intimidating. I wanted to reach out to him and feel the touch of his skin again. I wanted to break down the wall I’d built up with my accusations. And I thought he might want it to, his body staying so firmly erect, unwilling to relax into any form of natural slouch, hinting at it. He seemed to be just as passionate and awkward around me as I was around him. But neither of us moved because there was a conversation that still needed to be finished.

“
When we were in the truck - and my mom interrupted us - I never got a chance to-”

He motioned with his hand. “It’s all right, Jocelyn.”

“
No, it’s not. You need to…I have to explain, to clarify…”

“
It’s really not a problem,” he said in his typical easygoing way.

I sighed in frustration, refusing to yield.

In response, he chuckled lightly and conceded, “Fine. If it’ll make you feel better.”

“
It will,” I said so resolutely I had to soften my tone when I spoke again. “I’m sorry for accusing your family. I was wrong. It was the only information I had, that any of us had. It just…It seems that there is so much misinformation between our families that it’s hard to know what’s true and what’s false. But the real truth is that none of that should matter. I know you. And you’re kind, generous, charming. You fight to protect others, not to hurt them. You…"

“
Jocelyn…” he tilted his lips up in a sideways smile, his beautiful scar curving with it. “I get it. I know how you feel about me.”

The fact that he delivered this news while smiling was a good sign. It meant he at least knew it was positive.

My eyebrows creased as I tried to figure out exactly what he thought he knew. “Which is?” I asked.

“
You’re in love with me,” he replied simply.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, searching for words. “When did you…? How did you…?”

“
I feel it.” He paused to take my hand, the touch of him, the very fact he had the motivation to hold just that small part of my body was such a relief I had to contain my enthusiasm.

Then he opened the channel and we began reading each other’s minds. We were alone. There was little risk of someone overhearing so the reason wasn’t to keep what we said private. It was to create an intimate space where only the two of us were allowed.

“
It’s in the way you look at me, Jocelyn. It’s in the reaction I get when we’re sitting together, the way you kiss me, the way you try to heal me, protect me, while I’m trying to protect you.” He chuckled out loud at the irony of it. “It’s in everything you do. You never needed to say the words. I already knew, Jocelyn. Have known, for a while…”

“
That long, ha?”

He nodded. “That’s why it was so hard for me after…”

“
After I accused your family,” I said, feeling guilty all over again but he, realizing it, assuaged me.

“
After you told me that we were through.” The pain was still evident in his voice. “Being apart when it’s so clear we both want to be together…It was…”

“
Ridiculous,” I offered.

He had a different description. “Destructive.”

The feelings of only a few days ago flooded back to me. Images of how he’d looked and how I’d forgone caring for myself flashed across my mind - haggard, worn impersonations of ourselves. His depiction couldn’t have been more accurate.

“
All right,” he said gently. “My turn.”

“
You’re turn?” I said, wondering what he could possibly have to apologize for.

But he had something different in mind.

“
I got the rare chance to know you before learning who you were. That made all the difference. If you hadn’t walked into Olivia’s shop when you did and if I hadn’t been there at the same time, we would never have gotten to know each other like we do now. I would have discovered you were a Weatherford from one of my family members and avoided you, like I do with the rest of your family. You would have probably done the same with me. But we did meet and I did get to know you. So by the time I saw that bracelet of yours…”

“
The one with my family stone,” I filled in.

“
Yes,” he grinned. “That one. I’d already fallen for you.” He paused and then hastened to clarify. “Not in love. That came later.” Even the hint of Jameson falling in love with me tickled my insides. “I knew I was taking a chance. You could have turned out to be someone deserving of a Weatherford reputation. But you kept proving that to be wrong. It didn’t define you. Contrary to what my family and friends think - you want to help others. You try to prevent conflicts with us, not escalate them. You’re funny, sensitive…You’re innocent. Not weak,” he clarified when seeing my mouth fall open in offense. “Just unaware. You didn’t know anything about us, about what my family is capable of doing, and had no idea how to protect yourself. And they can be vicious. So I wanted to protect you. And that protection grew into something more. When I finally acknowledged it, I didn’t care about stopping it, even when I told my family.”

“
You told them?” I asked, astounded. “They couldn’t have taken that well…”

He laughed sarcastically under his breath. “It was the night you said you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

I sucked in a breath and held it. “Bad timing…” I thought spontaneously and wondered if he’d heard it.

He had. “Oh, yeah. I’d agree with that. What that did to me - our separation - how that felt…I’ve never experienced anything remotely close to it in my life. It was…”

I knew exactly what he was trying to say because I’d felt it, too. “Agony.”

“
Yes, that’s exactly what it was.”

We fell silent for a moment and then I said, “Let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He turned to find my eyes, to hold them as he declared, “That is my intention.” He drew in a breath, shuffled his feet and fell silent. After a long pause, he changed the subject. “It’s why I’m a little nervous our families haven’t shown up yet.”

Impulsively, we glanced toward the tunnel leading to the street but it was empty. They wouldn’t have come down it together, obviously. Still, seeing any one of them enter the courtyard would have been comforting.

As it turned out, we didn’t see them. We heard them.

A wooden board above us creaked, a sound that was clearly not the settling of an old building but by the weight of a foot. It came from the overhang, telling us that we weren’t alone and that the person was on the second floor, directly overhead.

Seconds later, a giggle rang out into the night.

“
We’ve been waiting for you…” someone hissed and I recognized it as Alison.

“
Funny,” said Estelle, casual, confident, and from somewhere in the darkness. “We’ve been doing the same.”

20 FEUD

It was late, past eleven o’clock now. The noise from Bourbon Street was escalating so that voices, shouts, and a mingling of jazz, blues, and rock music rose over the rooftops. The temperature had dipped so that we could now see faded white puffs as we breathed. Light was sparse. Other than the gas lamps hanging beside each door, only the half moon offered any clarity to our surroundings. With Ms. Veilleux’s office light still off, it looked like the courtyard was vacant.

It wasn’t.

Gradually, indeterminate figures stepped toward the railing on the second floor, heads ducked, arms at their sides, five on one side of the courtyard and four on the other. There were five children in the Caldwell family and with one of them sitting beside me it was easy to conclude that the four above Jameson and me, standing to our left, were the Caldwells.

“
Did you really think we wouldn’t retaliate?” Burke’s voice called across the courtyard.

It was eerie being unable to place where exactly it originated.

Jameson had a different reaction to it. His shoulders fell and he shook his head, realizing their aim was to fight…again. Slowly, he stood up and, still holding my hand, he channeled to me, “Stay here. This might get ugly.”

Not being in the habit of listening to instructions, I readied myself to enter and separate the fighters, if they came together.

At the same time, the battle of words raged above us.

“
Hand him over and there won’t be any bloodshed,” someone warned. It was a voice I hadn’t heard before, higher-pitched, and one I deemed came from Dillon.

Estelle retorted, quickly and fierce. “Hand her over and we’ll let you live.”

This was rapidly spiraling out of reason.

“
You’ve gone too far Caldwells,” shouted Nolan. “Hand over Jocelyn!”

I was then on my feet. They were talking about me.

Jameson, who heard it too, took a misstep. He glanced back and I knew he was thinking the same thing: Our absence over the last several days convinced them that the Caldwells had done something to me and they were now demanding I be returned.

“
You hand over Jameson!” Charlotte snapped back.

Then the full reality dawned on me. Both families thought the other had taken their relative.

I took a step and heard something slam against the wall above us. Shards of wood fluttered on top of me as I instinctively ducked and covered my head.

“
Are you all right?” Jameson was suddenly crouched at my side.