Color Blind (25 page)

“You read my mind.”

We ambled over to the first carriage, made our request of the driver, and climbed in. Soon Kate dozed off, with her head on my shoulder, snoring softly.

The carriage driver pulled to a stop at our gate, bid us good night, and rolled away into the darkness, searching for his next fare. I locked up the house while Kate went upstairs to bed. It was time for me to do the same.

Before bed, I booted up my laptop and checked my e-mail. There was one from Sam with the combination for the trunk locks. I went back into the hallway and opened the trunks. The first trunk held the rest of my clothes. The second trunk contained the balance of my belongings, as well as my father's personal mementos. A jewelry box, two framed photographs, and two small blue leather photo albums were neatly tucked away in a corner. I removed my father's things and left all of my stuff for another time. There was no rush to unpack. I wasn't going anywhere.

I closed the trunks and brought his things into my room. One silver-framed photograph was of me and my dad, taken on my birthday last year. I immediately placed it on the dresser. The second photograph was one I'd never seen before, of my mother and father dressed in formal attire.
Junior prom?
I set it aside. The first photo album was older, yellow with age. I flipped page after page, fascinated as my dad's and some of my mom's life, from elementary to high school, unfolded before me. The pictures stopped at about age seventeen. I never knew he had these pictures or an album of himself and my mother. I guess it was too personal and too painful to share with me.

The second album began with baby pictures of me and continued until Dad's birthday party, taken not long before he died. I set both albums aside, opened the lid of the brown leather jewelry box, and began to empty the contents. Dad had never worn much jewelry. He had a sports watch, a daytime watch with a black leather strap, and a beautiful gold special-occasion watch. They were all inside.

I removed the gold watch, clasped it to my wrist, and admired it. It was a little too big, but it looked good, and it made me feel good; it made me feel close to him.

There were three pairs of antique gold cufflinks, which had belonged to his father. It was nice that Dad kept them, even though I'd never seen him wear a shirt with French cuffs. I wondered if they could be made into earrings.

Nestled inside a gold-trimmed red leather box was a gold Cartier ballpoint pen. I remembered the day he bought it.

He said, “It makes me feel important to have one good writing instrument. Everyone should own at least one.”

Now I did.

I was ready now. I got up and placed the photo albums, prom picture, and jewelry box on the dresser. I retrieved his letter, settled into my comfy chair, took a deep breath, and began to read his final words to me.

It was such a beautiful letter, so typical of Dad. Short, to the point, no wasted words or sentiments. It was precisely what I needed from him. I tucked the letter back inside the envelope, slid it under my pillow, crawled beneath the sheet, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

I awoke refreshed and ready to get started. I wanted to bring the family tree as close to completion as possible with our information, so we could go visit Simone and Angel later today. I missed my little friend. I hoped her mother wouldn't turn me away. I didn't have many friends and not much family. It was important to me to do this, to bring us all together. I hoped everyone else agreed.

I found Kate bustling in the kitchen, fresh cookies cooling on the counter and a pink bakery box waiting to be loaded.

“Wow! How long have you been up?”

“Not long. I keep cookie dough in the freezer for emergencies. I thought we could take a box with us today, a part of our peace offering.”

“Um, uh . . . I don't think that's such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

When I came clean about using a box of her baked goods as subterfuge for visiting Simone and absconding with Angel into the swamp, Kate stopped what she was doing and put the box back in the butler's pantry.

Frustrated, she turned to me. “Have you always been this way?”

“What way?”

“Challenging. You've been more than difficult ever since you stepped off the bus. I'd like to know if you've always been this way or if it's just a part of your grieving process.”

I hesitated, “Well, I must admit, my actions have been a little over the top since I got here, but the short answer is
No
. I was a good girl with an ordinary life.”

“Good to know,” said Kate, as she pulled another sheet of cookies from the oven. “I can drop these off at the police station for Detective Baptiste and the boys in blue before we go to see Angel and Simone.”

“Shouldn't you be at work?”

“I'm off today. I traded shifts so we could do this. While you finish your work on the family tree, I'll take care of the cell phone for Angel and pick up a gift certificate for microchipping Gumbo. By the way, the landscape company owner is back from vacation. She wants to pick up BG as soon as possible.”

“Darn. I love that little goat. I'll miss her.”

“Me too . . . Hungry?”

“Not really. I think I'll just take some juice and yogurt upstairs and get to work on the tree. I also need to activate my phone.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Upstairs, I took care of the phone first, sent Miles a
Good morning!
text and got to work. I logged into my Ancestry.com account and was surprised to see leaves with new hints. I read through the hints, saved the pertinent ones to my shoebox. I began to add the family details Kate provided. Though the tree was far from complete, I was making progress. I could easily understand how people could lose themselves evaluating information; the census records, the birth/death/marriage records—it's all there to be researched. Everyone's lives are well documented, now more than ever with social media. I sat back and admired my work in progress.

If my assumptions were correct, my mother's side of the family descended from Marie Laveau's illegitimate daughter, Delphine, who had been raised as white and had married a wealthy white man. I believed Angel's side of the family descended from Delphine's daughter, Liga, the very dark skinned baby who was raised by her grandmother, Marie Laveau. I wouldn't actually know if my logic was sound until we saw Simone. I had done as much as I could do alone.

I was ready to make my presentation.

I printed the family tree and got up to get my laptop case. I opened the armoire and saw that Marguerite's Voodoo doll had fallen out of her gift bag. The sightless button eyes stared at me, but I was no longer frightened. This little piece of herb-filled fabric had led me on my journey, to a new beginning, to my new family. I set the Voodoo doll on my dresser. It belonged there, right next to the photograph of Marie Laveau.

I packed up my laptop, the charger, and the hard copy of the family tree and went downstairs to wait for Kate, but she was already home. After dropping the cookies at the police station, she had picked up the gift certificate for the vet and purchased the phone for Angel.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.”

The day was spectacularly beautiful and we drove with the top down. The traffic was light; it didn't take long to get to Simone's house.

The house looked different, better. New front steps had been installed, a new railing surrounded the porch, and half of the house was covered in fresh paint. A concrete mixer sat next to their broken sidewalk and new shingles were stacked nearby. Last but not least, there was a pink bicycle propped up by the newly screened front door.

Angel flew out of the door, with Gumbo loping behind. Simone stood in the doorway. I couldn't read her expression.

“You came, you came! I thought I'd never see you again!” She threw herself at me, her hug nearly squeezing all breath out of me. Angel pointed at her house. “Look what your boyfriend and his friends did for us! He got a bike for me! He said he traded with a neighbor for work they needed done. You oughta hang on to him!”

“I'll do my best.”

Simone opened the screen door and came out onto the porch. She looked none too happy, “Why are you here?”

“I came to apologize to you. And to Angel. I came to say I'm sorry for deceiving you, for putting Angel in harm's way. None of what happened was her fault. I'd like to make amends. I need to make this right.”

“Last time you came, you lied to me and you lied to my Angel. You took her away and filled her head with stuff about us bein' cousins. That wasn't right, not right at all. Now go on, go away!”

“Okay, I'll go. But, first, would you please take a look at this?”

I handed her the copy of the family tree. Neither Kate nor Angel spoke. Neither one wanted any part of our exchange.

“Five minutes. You get five minutes. Come sit while I look at it.”

Five minutes, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed. The silence was profound. Simone set down the printout, got up and went inside. She returned less than a minute later, carrying a well-worn black book, which she handed to me.

“Open it.”

On the cover, stamped in flaking gold letters, was
HOLY BIBLE
. I opened the fragile leather tome and gasped. Inside the cover was a fading, handwritten family tree. This was Simone's family Bible, passed down through generations. I traced my finger lightly over the discolored parchment. Listed at the top of the tree, in bright blue ink, was Angelique (Angel) Lacroix, next in line was Simone Lacroix. No father had been entered for Angel, no husband for Simone. I read through the scrawled, barely legible, faded names and dates until I reached the beginning of the tree:
Liga Laveau, daughter of Delphine, grand-daughter of Marie.

I was at a total loss for words. I handed the Bible to Kate and gaped at Simone.

“I guess we're never gonna get rid of you now. You're family!” Simone turned to Angel, “Baby, go set two more places for lunch.”

I gave Simone a bear hug and said, “Thank you. Thank you, Cousin Simone, for helping bring us all together!”

“Oh, Lord, what've I gotten us into?”

Simone and Kate stayed on the porch and visited, while Angel and I set the table and got lunch ready. We had lots of food and lots to talk about. None of us knew where this new information, this new family, would take us, but we knew it would take us there together. Simone was right. There's no gettin' rid of me now.

Kate and I stayed long into the evening. Kate helped Angel and Simone with the new phone. Gumbo slept at my feet. I booted up the laptop, but couldn't get into my Ancestry.com account since there was no Wi-Fi.
Note to self: need a plan for a computer and Internet service for Angel.
I grabbed a pen and paper and began to takes notes from the details in Simone's Bible. I'd add them on Ancestry.com later.

We still had loads of questions, some of which may never be answered. Not all of our history was recorded, at least not that I had found yet. I planned to keep digging into our roots. I needed to expand my father's side of the family and Angel's if Simone was up to sharing her secrets. It was after midnight when Kate and I bid our good nights and headed back to the French Quarter. We didn't speak on the drive home, but it was an easy silence. We'd had a long, exhausting, wonderful day and were too tired to talk.

As Kate pulled in front of the house, my phone alerted to an incoming text. Miles wanted to come by to see me tomorrow afternoon. I texted back an enthusiastic
YES!

“You did an amazing thing for us, April. I couldn't be more proud of you.”