Diary of a Blues Goddess (31 page)

Madame Ravel inhaled deeply, as if putting herself in a trance. "The spirit is speaking to me," Madame Ravel said. Her eyes were shut. "She says she is not alone."

"Great," Dominique whispered. "What is this, a ghost hotel?"

"Who is with her?" Nan asked.

"The spirits are trying to communicate with me. Sometimes it's not clear… There are three women present. I see them as a triumvirate."

"Three?" I asked.

"Yes. There is the one you call Sadie. She has lived here the longest. She is the one with great authority among them."

"Who else?" Jack asked.

"There is one who loves her."

"My aunt Irene!" I said excitedly.

Nan looked up.

"It was in the diary, Nan. Irene didn't leave because she was mad at you. She left because she was heartbroken after Sadie died."

"Well, I'll be… " Nan shook her head back and forth, her mouth slightly open in shock.

"The spirits say yes. She is the one they call Honey. Does that make sense to those present?"

Nan nodded.

"Who's the third spirit?" Angelica asked, her eyes wide and shining in the glow of candlelight.

"There is one more. You have to understand it's not always so clear. With this one, I am getting symbols. Many symbols. She is showing me symbols for mother, daughter… and a bridal gown. For wife."

"My sister never married," Nan said.

Madame Ravel nodded. "No. Not your sister. Not Sadie. Another."

"Nan, who else died here?" I asked. "Think back to the time of Sadie and Honey."

Nan looked confused. "No one. Maybe it was before I came here. From my grandfather's time."

But my father's hand had gone cold in mine. I looked over at him. My father whispered, "My wife."

Madame Ravel was silent. Then she nodded. "Yes."

Tears stung my eyes, and I forced myself to look upward, to try to contain them. If this was a parlor trick, if this woman was a fake, she was doing a damn good job of it. My mother had been the door-slammer of New Orleans?

"My mother? My mother is in this room?"

Madame Ravel nodded.

"What does my daughter have to say?" Nan asked.

"She speaks directly to her daughter."

My father squeezed my hand.

"Yes?" I asked.

"She says… maybe this make sense to you. She is showing me symbols that mean a journey. Are you leaving home?"

This time Tony squeezed my hand. "I was thinking about it," I whispered, to which Dominique inhaled loudly enough for us all to hear.

"Your mother… she says it's time for you to go."

"That doesn't sound very much like my mother. You don't know her like we do. She would never want me to leave."

Madame Ravel laughed. "In the spirit world, you'd be surprised. There is no fear. The spirits come to see that obstacles we see in our path in life are only an illusion. So are all the false faces we show to the world. What we should have done in life, they learn, is follow our heart's desire."

"So is that what heaven is?" I asked aloud to my mother… to Madame Ravel. "Is it believing in yourself? Being true to yourself? Is that heaven, Mom?"

Madame Ravel seemed to be listening to someone. "Yes. She says yes, that is what heaven is."

In the flickering light, I saw tears falling down Nan's face. She had always urged my mother to be fearless. In death, she was.

"So is that why she's slamming doors?" I asked. "Is she the one? She seems angry. They all do this week."

"She wants you to know it's your time to leave this house. The three of them say it's your time."

"My mother is saying that?"

Madame Ravel laughed. "She also says she always loved you." She looked at my father.

My father smiled bashfully. "I'm sure she knows how I feel."

"That is part of heaven, too." Madame Ravel smiled. "Knowing true feelings. And to you—" she nodded at Nan "—she says she feels most at home here."

She looked around the table. "Whose name begins with a T?"

Tony's eyes widened and he said, "Mine does, ma'am."

"All three say they love the garden. Does that make sense to you?"

He nodded. I shook my head in amazement. Madame Ravel
had
to be real.

Spent, Madame Ravel fell back in her chair. Another cool breeze swept through the room and blew out a third candle.

"They've left. They're stopped communicating. The house is at peace now."

Though we could stop holding hands, we didn't. We all sat around the table looking at each other. Quiet. I didn't know what to say. I felt a longing to see my mother in the flesh. Not as a breeze. Not as a door-slam. At the same time, I knew she was with me… In this house.

And true to her word, my mother stopped slamming doors. We all were allowed to rest. Except me. All I could think about was the Mississippi Mudslide… and the garden that was transforming outside.

This was my moment. And I needed to be goddess enough to grab it.

September 9, 1939

It's time to leave. I promise that I will come back. I'll come back and tell Myra why I just cannot stay here where every breath I take in this house reminds me of my beloved Sadie.

She is in the air. At night, I wake up and see her sitting in the chair in my room. She's combing her hair, staring at the moon. But as soon as I reach for her, she disappears.

I swear I smell her. The scent of jasmine. A perfume that was hers.

And the greatest torment. I touch her. I do. I know it sounds crazy, but I have dreams that are so real. I dream that we are making love. She is there. I feel her. And then I wake up and my arms are empty, it just reawakens the heartache. I can't sleep.

I can barely move through the day. It is as if my legs and arms, my very heart and head are made of stone.

Yet, I cannot shake the feeling that perhaps she is here. Crazy, I know. But I feel it. She IS here. And yet if I stay here, I know I will die. I can't take the fog of mourning that shrouds this house.

It's this house. It was always too big. It always frightened me. I remember being a little girl and my daddy sending me up to the attic. Ooooh, I just knew there were bad things in the attic. Whether it was spiders or spirits, I don't know.

I know when I leave here I will breathe better. But I also know how much it will hurt Myra. Still… I feel like she cannot understand my blues. She keeps asking me what's wrong, Irene. What's wrong? What can I say? That my heart is broken for good? That I'll never get over the love I have for Sadie? That I cannot even bear another night here?

I have to go. I have to leave this city. I will go to New York or Chicago. I'll sing my way from town to town. And I'll become someone. People will remember hearing Honey Walker sing. That will be my way of honoring my love. My Sadie.