Not Quite Right (A Lowcountry Mystery) (Lowcountry Mysteries Book 6) (34 page)

The murmurs fall silent as we approach, but the people don’t rise to greet us. My gaze meets that of the same woman with the same turban who greeted us the other night. She gives me the slightest nod of recognition, which I return as we pass. Beau seems dazed and inclined to stare, so I grab his hand and pull him behind me into the cabin where Odette should be.

It worries me that she’s not by the fire with the rest of them. Shouldn’t she be feeling better by now?

We step over the threshold and find her on the same pallet where she was lying the other night, shivering and bathed in sweat. She doesn’t look better at all. If anything, she looks worse.

Beau and I put down our takeout bags, and I kneel by her side.
 

“Odette?” I whisper, not wanting to wake her if she’s asleep.

Her lashes flutter and her eyes peel back, unfocused and filmy. After a moment, they latch onto my face and recognition floods her gaze. “You back.”

I nod, my chest tight at the sight of her. “I brought you dinner. Do you want to try some soup?”

She licks her lips, then tips her head to the side to see Beau. He gives her a brief wave that she doesn’t return, turning back to me instead. “Yah got plenty a man friends, ain’t yah?”

It catches me off guard, even though the teasing is normal for her, and I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, well…I brought Beau for a specific reason.”

“Tah feed me soup? What kind yah got in there?”

It’s Beau’s turn to chuckle, the bags rustling as he rummages through them in search of the soup containers. He unearths all four, setting them on the floor of the hut. He crosses his legs and sits beside them, unconcerned that he’s on the rough ground in his nice jeans. The image reminds me again that he’s not like his family, or at least that he’s not
only
like his family. Beau is a man who wants to make it on his own, who doesn’t mind getting his hands—or his butt, apparently-- dirty if it means accomplishing his goal.

The more I know about Lucy, the more I have to wonder how much she had to do with his change of course. The way Beau told it, he had decided to strike out on his own before he met her, and that’s why he kept his family a secret, but if that’s how it happened, the timing that destroyed them had been impeccable.
 

“Let’s see. Looks like there’s chicken noodle, tomato basil, sausage and penne, and French onion. Pick your poison.”

I tear my eyes away from Beau’s lanky, handsome frame in time to see Odette wince at his choice of words. She’s struggling to sit up, and I put my hands under her elbows and help, pulling gently until she’s slumped against the wall but mostly upright.

“Guess I take tha chicken n noodles. Beings I’s under tha weather.”

Beau passes her the container and a spoon, and a couple packets of crackers, as well. “For you, Gracie Anne?”

“Nothing. I brought it all for Odette. She can share with her friends if she wants.”

Odette slurps a full spoonful and gives me the side-eye. “Ya know I’d never be sharin’ if I felt right. Seeings I don’, yah can go ahead and take it out to tha fire, hansom.”

Beau unfolds himself from the floor and casts a longing look at the greasy paper bags. I give him an encouraging smile and he leaves, heading out to give away our supper. It might have been nice of me to keep something for the root doctor, but I don’t know what he likes. Or if he’d want it. I figure there are hungry people out there, so let them have it.

I raise an eyebrow at Odette. “You called Leo handsome, too. You’d better be careful.”

“
You
best be careful, girl. You tha one mixed up with more than ya can handle.”

“That’s true,” I lament, seeing no reason to argue. “But not when it comes to men.”

She grunts, then gives me another side-eye that says she thinks I’m being obtuse. “None of my never mind, I’s can tell yah that.”

“The root doctor…” I say. “What’s his name?”

“Don’ know.”

“Well, what do you
call
him?” I press, more than a little exasperated that
she’s
being obtuse now. Knowing Odette, it’s probably to make a point.

“We calls him Dr. Rue. ’Cause he walk tha path to balance.”

“Dr. Rue. Okay.” A deep breath helps calm my irritation. Odette slurps more soup, her brow wetter with sweat with each swallow. She needs to lie down again before she collapses. “I brought Beau here because—”

I’m interrupted by his re-entry to the cabin, just in time to hear his name.
 

His gentle, hazel eyes slide over me as he draws close, then kneels at my side. “Please, go on. I’m interested as to why you invited me, too. Not that I’m complaining.”

“I want to know if Odette sees a curse on your head.”

That surprises Beau but not our sick friend. She takes her time studying him, her gaze starting at his knees and raising over his solid torso, broad chest and shoulders, scruffy jaw, and finally lingering above his head where she and the other Gullah always spot my own curse.

She shakes her head. “Nah. He clean.”

“She didn’t do it.” Relief mingles with worry, leaving my stomach a messy, slick ball of confusion. If Mama Lottie has what she needs and hasn’t placed the curse, what does that mean?

The only thing I think it means for sure is that she hasn’t done anything about the curse on my family. Maybe she’s not going to. Maybe she’s trying to verify what I’ve told her about James on her own, somehow. She could have taken Amelia with the hope that she knows the details, but more likely, she wants to make me as uncomfortable as I’m making her. That’s what I think.

It’s disturbing, how easy it is for me to guess at Mama Lottie’s intentions. I could attribute it to my abilities, on our unwanted connection, but it’s really because we’re alike. We’re both quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and think that revenge is the way to make everything better. Unlike her, I do think I’m able to separate the past from the present, and embrace the
what’s done is done
theory. Most of the time.

“Mama Lottie hasn’t cursed my family?” Beau’s mouth purses in thought. “But you gave her everything. Why not?”

“It could be because of what I told her about James. She acted like she didn’t believe me, and she was more angry than anything, but she could have calmed down after she’d thought about it. Maybe she doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting her own great-grandchildren.”

“Your curse still there.” Odette nods at me, then holds out her bowl for me to take.
 

I do, then pass it to Beau so I can help her lie back down. “I figured. But that’s why Dr. Rue asked me to come here tonight. He said he would try to help me figure out how to break it without Mama Lottie’s help, remember?”

She nods, her eyes closed tight against what looks like pain. Odette’s chest rises and falls too quickly for the small amount of exertion. My teeth worry at my lower lip. I’m going to ask this Dr. Rue why his so-called healing spells or root medicine or whatever he gave her the last time didn’t work for shit, too.

As though summoned by my thoughts, he appears in the doorway. The firelight behind him casts his long, dark shadow across the floor, covering Beau and me, and most of Odette, too. My chest constricts as I let her go and scramble to my feet, swallowing hard and reminding myself he’s just a man. And he’s here to help me. I think.

The hard look in his dark eyes does nothing to ease my pounding heart. Beau gets up and stands beside me, so close our shoulders press together. His reaction tells me everything I need to know about mine—that my anxiety is well-placed.

“I am glad you could make it,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. His gaze flicks to Beau, but he doesn’t ask for an introduction or offer his name. The same way he did to Leo and me a few days ago.

“Thank you for calling,” I manage. “You can understand that I’m anxious to get started on this curse.”
 

He frowns. “The curse is very old. It has had time to sink deep roots into your genes, to curl tight around cells and through bone. Digging it out will take time, and it will not be without sacrifice. Or pain.”

The way he talks about pain and sacrifice wets my palms with sweat. He said before that he would require things of me, and I felt sure that whatever it meant, I could handle it. Even if I can’t, that’s not going to stop me from going through with it.

“I understand,” I tell him, forcing my gaze not to waver when it locks with his. “I’m willing to do my part, Dr. Rue. Whatever it takes.”

A coughing fit racks Odette’s body. It goes on so long that she’s struggling to breathe. I kneel beside her and hold her hand while Beau fetches her the sweet tea I brought from Westies. After a moment, she’s able to sip a couple of times from the straw, but her eyes are so bloodshot and swollen she can hardly open them.

I turn an accusing gaze on Dr. Rue. “Why isn’t she better?”

He doesn’t answer, opening his bag and extracting a small, mesh sack that has wet spots on the outside and stinks to high heaven. He presses it to Odette’s forehead, eliciting a small moan, then settles it in the hollow beneath her throat. Dr. Rue’s low murmurs and bag of stench seem to help soothe her and she lies back, sinking into the straw that looks like it’s starting to mold.

“Miss Harper.” Dr. Rue’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper, as though he doesn’t wish to disturb Odette. He tips his head to one side, indicating I should follow him out of the hut.

Even though anger over his lack of actual doctoring continues to swirl in my blood, there doesn’t seem to be any point in antagonizing him. Not if he’s really figured out how to help me with Anne Bonny’s curse after all this time.

“There is something you need to know about Odette’s illness,” he begins, flicking a look toward Beau that’s brimming with distaste. Which is odd, since it’s not as though he told me to come alone. “She’s suffering from a smaller version of the curse on your family.”

The night spins so hard I have to squeeze my eyes shut to try to make it stop. I lean sideways into Beau, who winds a supportive arm around my waist.
 

“What?” is the first brilliant question I’m able to form. “How?”

Even better, Gracie.
 

He’d mentioned something similar the other night, but only in passing. Not as if it had been the gospel truth. I’d wanted to believe it wasn’t.

“I’m not sure how it got to her, but it’s likely because she’s been helping you.” He glances toward Odette, lowering his voice further. “But this isn’t like treating the common cold.”

My throat tightens. I will never forgive myself if Odette dies because she helped me, even if she mostly talks in riddles and makes me want to tear my hair out. “How can I help her?”

“By breaking the curse on your family. Any branches coming off it will wither and die, too.”

“Do you see a curse on my head?” Beau blurts, his fingers digging into my side.

Based on a flash in the doctor’s eyes and the tightening of his mouth, the interruption seems to annoy him. He doesn’t ignore Beau this time, though, and takes a close look before shaking his head. “No. You’re free from that particular burden.”

The question startled
me
a bit more than it had the doctor. The anxiety blowing off Beau says he believes in all of this stuff and that he’s scared. Because of
me
, because of
what I did
.

Shame heats my cheeks. I do my best to ignore it, focusing instead on the issue at hand. If our curse is affecting other people now, like Odette, that’s all the more reason to move quickly.
 

“You keep comparing the curse to a tree—roots, branches, tendrils,” I observe aloud. “Is there a reason for that?”

He nods, an appreciative gleam in his eye now. Apparently, he thought I was completely daft, and it’s hard to blame him. I’ve been pulled in too many directions to be on top of my game lately.

“Curses are more than magic. They’re built from emotion, out of the earth itself. They pass from generation to generation, growing from the initial seed until, like I said, it’s part of who you are. Like a tree, it needs help to survive.”

“So if a tree needs water and air and sunlight, what does a curse need?”

“Belief, an agent, and the status quo.”

I think about that for a minute. “Well, Anne Bonny believed in it from the beginning, and there’s no use pretending Amelia and I don’t believe in it now. Mrs. LaBadie was the agent, but Mama Lottie killed her.”

“There will be another. There may already be another.” He sounds sure, and there’s no reason to doubt him.

I nod. “Okay, so what’s the status quo? I mean, I know what it means, but how does everything staying the same protect the curse?”

It must have something to do with what Odette and Dr. Rue said about the curse—that it will break when it is broken, but I still don’t understand exactly what that means or how to make it happen.

“It means that if the cursed does nothing to improve his or her own situation, or to atone for the actions that earned the ire of the curse-placer, nothing will change.”

The riddles exhaust me. I lean harder on Beau, glad he’s here. Even happier he’s keeping silent, not that he would have anything to add. Hell, I don’t even know what we’re talking about and I’ve been dealing with this stuff longer than he has.

“Just tell me what to do, Dr. Rue. I don’t have to understand it, not if you can help.” I hold my breath and when I blow it out, it shudders. “
Can
you help me?”

He looks into my eyes for a long, long time. I struggle to breathe under the weight of his gaze but refuse to look away, determined to show him that I can rise to whatever challenge he sets at my feet. The expression on his face matches the surety in my soul that I don’t have the slightest idea how dangerous a ledge I’m stepping off, but getting rid of the curse is the only way to truly get Amelia back, after we convince Mama Lottie to give up her body.
 

I want her
soul
back, and I want baby Jack to have a life, and when Dr. Rue nods, the relief that washes over me is strong enough to banish my lingering fear.