The Devil in Canaan Parish (18 page)

“Yes, Melee,” she whispered. “I think that I would let you help me.”

After that, I went to work,
 
trying to remember all of the recipes that Marraine had taught me and hoping that I would get it right.
 
I knew that I needed to get a plant that did not grow near here, which only grew in the wild down in the marsh where I came from. Marraine called it Devil’s Claw.
 
I knew I could not find it for myself and I worried, wondering how I could get it. One day, an answer dawned on me.

Gabriel had come as usual to cut the grass, and as always, I brought him a mason jar of cold iced tea.
 
He was my only visitor -- my dark angel.
 
I looked forward to seeing his smile, so easy and free, as though nothing bad had ever touched him.
 
We talked about his future. He wanted to go to school one day and leave this place. It was nice to dream about a future, even one I didn’t share.
 
I never thought of my own future.
 
When I did, there was nothing there in my imagination -- only darkness.
 

“Miss Melee!” he beamed, as I brought him the drink. “How are you today?”

“I’m good, Gabe,” I said.
 

I watched him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and then, winking at me, took the glass and downed it in one long swallow.

“Thank you kindly,” he said.

“Gabe,” I began, “I was wondering if you might do something for me?”

He froze for a moment and examined my face, trying to guess what I had in mind.

“Sure, anything,” he answered.

“There’s something that I need.
 
A plant.
 
Can you get it for me?”

He seemed confused for a moment, and then broke out into a laugh.

“A plant?”
 
he grinned, “My goodness,
 
Melee,
 
I thought you were going to ask me for something serious!”
 
He kept laughing and handed the glass back to me.

“Well, it is serious!” I protested, “I mean, this may not be easy to find.”

“Ah. . .” he teased, “a SERIOUS plant.”

I began to pout a little, wondering if I had made a mistake.

“Now, now,” he soothed, “don’t you fuss.
 
I didn’t say I wouldn’t get it.
 
What kind of plant do you need?” he asked, trying to erase the smile from his face.

I explained what I needed and where he might be able to find it.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, thinking, “I believe I do know that plant.
 
I think it grows down around where I take Izzy fishing with me sometimes.
 
When do you need it?”

“Well,” I answered, pushing some loose hair back behind my ears. “As soon as you can get it, but definitely before the next full moon.”

“Full moon!” He exclaimed, and then burst into another laugh, “Lordy, girl,
 
you are crazy!”
 

I turned deep red and stared at my feet, embarrassed.
 
He put his finger under my chin and lifted my face up to his.
 
I felt a shiver go down my back at his touch.

“Don’t worry, now,” he murmured, “if that plant’s to be had in a twenty mile radius from here, I’ll surely get it for you.”

“Good,” I sighed, “Thank you.
 
Here, take the mason jar.
 
You can bring it back to me in this.”

Gabriel gave me another big grin and nodded, then turned back to finish his work.

True to his word, Gabe brought the Devil’s Claw to me the next week.
 
The full moon was just two nights away and I began my preparations.
 
I had given Sally a little bit of an idea what I wanted to do.
 
The only difficulty was getting rid of Bram for the evening. Fortunately, Sally took care of that.
 
There was a party happening that night at the Landry’s house, some kind of important social function that couldn’t be missed.
 
They both were going to go after supper, and Bram was waiting for her in the kitchen, pacing and irritated.

“Sally?” he called at the bedroom door.
 
“Sally, we need to get going!”

She emerged wearing a bathrobe, her face ashen and her eyes barely open.

“Bram, I’m sorry.
 
You’ll have to go on without me.
 
I just don’t feel well enough to make it.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” he grunted, and then stomped off to the car.

As soon as he had driven away, Sally called me to her room.
 
I brought my bag with me and began to set things up for the cleansing ceremony.
 
I wasn’t sure if I could remember everything Marraine had taught me, but I did think it would be enough. I turned off all the lights and then opened the window.
 
The harvest moon was shining full and bright and fell in a pool on the hardwood floor.
 
Where the moonlight shone, I sprinkled the floor with salt.
 
I brought out the tea I had made with the Devil’s Claw and placed a cup on the floor.
 
When everything was ready, I lit a single white candle and placed it on the bedside table.

Sally was sitting on the little stool next to her dressing table, still wearing her bathrobe.
 
As I had instructed, she had carefully bathed herself, removed all her makeup and nail polish and brushed her hair down straight and natural around her shoulders.
 
Her eyes were large and the candle’s reflection shone in her pupils.
 
I carefully walked over and took her hands in mine and pulled her up to her feet, then I walked around behind her and pushed her gently toward the cleansing circle.
 
As her bare feet stepped on the salt, I removed her robe from her shoulders.

Sally stood there, completely naked, bathed in moonlight.
 
At first she dipped her head down shyly and tried to cover herself.
 
I tugged her hands back and placed them at her side, palms up toward the moon.
 
She closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. I then picked up the white candle and began slowly walking around her in clockwise circle. When I had completed the circle, I placed the candle down at her feet and the raised my cupped hands to the sky.
 
Sally copied me.

“Moon,” I said, “Come to this woman and fill her with your light.
 
Enter her, shining in your fullness. Let your abundant power heal her and bring her all that she desires.” I nodded to Sally.

“Amen,” she said, and she picked up the cup of tea and took a sip.
 
I scooped up the candle and made another circle around her, repeating my chant to the Moon.
 
Sally continued to sip the tea, saying ‘amen’ each time I completed the circle.
 
I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing for her to say, but it seemed fitting.

When finally she had finished the tea, I turned and slowly walked around the other direction.

“Thank you sister moon,” I said.
 
“We thank you for healing this woman. May your abundant light fill her, always.”

“Amen,” whispered Sally once again.

When I had completed the circle for the last time, I blew out the candle.
 
I placed the robe back on Sally shoulders.
 
She stood with her eyes closed for a moment in the moonlight, and then, placing her hands on her stomach, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.

“Melee, I do believe something’s different,” she whispered.

“Of course it is,” I smiled back.
 
“Everything will be different now.”

“Yes,” she agreed, putting herself in bed, and yawning, “everything will be different now.”

I stayed with her until she fell asleep and then went up to my own room.

I dreamed that night of the Vieux Diable.
 
He was leaning over my bed, his claws reaching toward me, I could feel myself choking.
 
I couldn’t see his face, it was a shadow, a black hole, but I could hear him hissing and as his hold on my throat grew tighter and tighter, I heard him chuckling, his voice low and dreadful. I felt my lungs bursting for air, and the veins in my neck pulsing against his claws, and when the blackness began to overtake me, I woke up, gasping and screaming.

I lay shaking in my bed, afraid to move. Would he still be there when I opened my eyes?
 
After a few minutes my breathing returned to normal and I sat up.
 
The full moon was still shining, pouring into my bedroom window.
 
I stood up and went to the basin to splash some cold water on my face.
 
When I did, I peered out into the night, down into the yard, and then I saw him again!
 
The Vieux Diable,
 
standing just on the edge of darkness beyond the row of bushes that lined the property.
 
I knew the dark figure was staring at the house, searching for me, but I still could not see his face.

Chapter Thirteen

Sometime during the autumn months, something strange developed between Melee and Sally.
 
I do not know when it began, but it seemed more and more that whenever I would come home from work,
 
I could find them together: Melee brushing Sally’s hair, sitting on the back porch talking to Sally, helping Sally in the garden.
 
At first I was relieved.
 
Sally had given over her hatred for the girl and learned to tolerate, then accept and finally welcome her. But as time continued, I found the relationship more and more troubling.
 
Melee seemed to be pulling away from me, and I felt that during our time together she was only acting from obligation.
 
She began to lie there, lifeless, as I kissed and caressed her.
 
My passion was no longer mirrored in hers.
 
I could feel her slipping away.

This only seemed to fuel my desire, and the more indifferent she became, the more I found myself needing her. I began to demand her every night and every day when I came home for lunch.
 
Sometimes I would not even wait until we went up to her room, taking her in the attic, on the kitchen counter or across the dining room table.
 
She never fought me. One time I threw her against the wall in the hallway, lifted up her skirt and took her from behind.
 
Like an animal I rutted on her day and night, and she never complained.
 
Yet, she became more and more like a ragdoll, limp and unfeeling.
 
There was never any resistance from her – it was like sinking into a warm bath.

At night, when I had finished, she would stare motionless at the ceiling, humming a strange song and sometimes whispering the words in French, a song she must have known from her childhood.
 
I would roll over next to her, exhausted, my arms wrapped tightly around her and quietly sob, hating myself for what I did, and hating her for abandoning me.
 
Yet, no matter how tightly I clung, each morning when I awoke she was no longer there.
 
I would find her sleeping in Sally’s bed, the two of them cuddled together like sisters.
 

My wife and my mistress had become inseparable, and Sally would forego going out altogether, preferring to stay at home with Melee.
 
Friends and family began asking about her. Her mother and father would visit regularly, and each time she would greet them with smiles and pleasantries, assuring them there was nothing wrong.
 
Her father drilled me every day when I came to the store: how was Sally? Was she eating? Was she resting well? Had we seen the doctor again? And every day I reported that all was well. During the lunch rush I would go through the same routine with Boyle and Blanchard.
 
Blanchard, of course, was especially concerned and would occasionally appear at our door in the evening to check on her.
 
Sally was charming as ever and would greet him with a radiant smile,

“Everything’s fine, Warren!” she’d say, “Never better!
 
I am the picture of health and couldn’t be happier.”

“But why don’t you come out, Sally?” he would ask.
 
“We all miss you, Sugar, things just aren’t the same without you there.”

“Now, Warren,” she’d tease, “you know as well as I do it’s just the same old people at the same old gatherings doing the same old things, year after year, and I am just taking a little break.”

Despite her reassurances, the good people of Techeville were not convinced, and I found myself more of an outcast than before.
 
Sally had provided a buffer for me, and as long as she had been with me, society treated me cordially.
 
When she was not with me, I felt the piercing eyes, heard the remark whispered behind a raised hand, and saw the disapproval on every face.

The evening of All Soul’s Day, I put on a clean suit after supper and prepared to go to mass. Sally had always come with me, but that evening she locked herself in the bedroom.
 
I knocked several times, and she did not answer, but I did hear her giggling and whispering with Melee.
 
Irritated, I trudged off to the garage by myself, jumped in the car and headed into town to church.

The sky was darkening by the time I arrived, and the church windows glowed from within.
 
I made my way to my regular seat, barely speaking to Sally’s parents, who gave me little more than a grudging nod.
 

“Sally not with you again?” asked her father.

“No sir,” I said, “she decided not to come.”

“I just can’t understand it!” fretted her mother.
 
“I declare I think I will take her to New Orleans next month.
 
Maybe we can do some Christmas shopping together.
 
It might cheer her up!”