Healing the Bayou (4 page)

“Would you prefer some privacy, dear?” Aunt Patrice asked.

I shook my head. “No, I need you here.”

She and Charlie smiled at me, and both of them took a seat on opposite sides of the bed, squishing me tightly between them.

Dear Lizzy,

By the time you read this you will have blossomed into the beautiful woman we always knew you would become. We hope you know how dearly we have held the time we had together. We love you more than heaven and earth combined. You’re our miracle. Our piece of hope and sunlight in the darkest of worlds.

We know how difficult it has been for you. You have a special gift and because we loved you so much we could not bring ourselves from our selfishness to explain why we could not help you understand it. The truth is, Eliza, we adopted you when you were just a month old.

We never considered you anything less than our own flesh and blood, and we pray you can forgive us in time for not telling you while we were with you. We were weak and unable to face the truth by your side. We love you, Eliza. Even after life.

I couldn’t breathe. The few pieces left holding my world together had just crashed around me and there was no one to cling to.

The two people sitting next to me were not my aunt and uncle. Strangers were reading this letter written by two people I really didn’t know. They had tricked and betrayed me. I came to the realization that I had no idea where I came from.

Was I even human?

“Did you know?” I asked them even though I knew it was a stupid question. There was no way Patrice missed the fact that her sister didn’t spend nine months carrying a child in her womb, and judging by her face, she knew I had caught onto that already.

“Eliza—” she started.

“Is that even my name?”

“Of course it is!”

“Really? Don’t look at me as though that’s such an off-the-wall question, Patrice. Because I’ve spent the last twenty-four years trying to figure out why the hell I was so different than every other person in this family. I don’t even look like any of you! Not once did it occur to you I deserved to know the truth?”

“It wasn’t our place, Eliza.” She pleaded for some understanding while my uncle sat speechless.

“They were never going to tell me, were they?”

“Try to understand, sweetheart. Your parents loved you so much. They couldn’t bear to see you feel as if you didn’t belong with them.”

“They loved me so much they spent my entire life planning to wait until they were dead to tell me something like this. That’s horrible!”

“They had the best intentions.”

“The road to hell is paved with the best intentions.” I spat her words back at her. “What about my real parents? Did she tell you anything about them?”

Hope surfaced in my mind. Maybe my biological parents had the same “gift” I did and they could help me. If there was a way to stop it, or even a way to control it, I had to try. Uncle Charlie’s shaking head severed my hope.

“Charles, she’s had enough news for one day,” Patrice urged.

I looked up at him with my most beseeching expression. If anybody was going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, it would be him. I could tell I had wagered well when he let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair in frustration the way he always did when he gave in to his favorite niece.

“We don’t have any names, Eliza. But from what your parents told us, you were orphaned. The agency told them a man had pulled you from a burning home. He didn’t have time to go back for your mother and father. But listen to me: your parents loved you, Eliza. What they did was selfish. They admitted it themselves. But you were everything to them. Don’t let your anger make you forget that.”

I wasn’t angry. I couldn’t be angry with them while I was still grieving their loss. I was hurt, but I was not angry.

“I’m sure they had other family. I need to find them. Maybe they can explain why I’m so—”

The nurse in the hallway was giving me the evil eye, so I lowered my voice. Stupid monitor must have spiked again, and I could tell she was about to make them leave. “Maybe they can tell me why I’m so, err, special.”

“All right,” the nurse snapped. “You need to try to eat and then get some more rest. You’ve had enough excitement. Say goodbye to your auntie and uncle.”

Uncle Charlie leaned in and whispered, “I have a friend who is a private investigator. I’ll see what he can’t dig up for you.”

He and Aunt Patrice both blew me a kiss, and a little spark of joy snuck into my heart at the thought of meeting someone who could help me.

Chapter Four

“Does she know we’re coming?” I stared at the man that sat across the poorly-constructed wooden table. Uncle Charlie had made good on his promise, and only a couple of days after I was released from the hospital I was meeting Richie, a private detective, and today’s dining companion.

I wasn’t sure how he managed to find the information so quickly, and his intimidating CIA-like demeanor kept me from asking too many questions. When I’d first met him, I had tried to figure out how my cranberry farmer family members even knew a man such as this one. Before Uncle Charlie’s more domesticated lifestyle he lived in the Capital with a very secretive job. Perhaps they were former coworkers?

Richie informed me he had located one of my surviving biological family members in New Orleans. She was apparently my aunt, and before I knew it he was escorting me himself. We’d arrived the previous day and found an authentic French-style hotel, separate rooms of course, and this morning we found this little Mom and Pop diner that served the best fried eggs I’d ever had.

Richie had worn a very expensive designer suit every time we’d met between now and then, and today was no exception. He peered at me over the top of his brand-name sunglasses in a way that showed off his receding hairline, and I held back a chuckle.

“No, I thought maybe I should meet with her today on my own. It may be easier for her to handle if she has some warning you’re coming.”

“You’re probably right.”

I know I wouldn’t particularly enjoy some girl showing up on my doorstep expecting a great big hug. She probably didn’t even want to see me. If I had meant anything to her, she wouldn’t have let me go to an orphanage.

“Stop fidgeting.” He tugged at my hands.

I hadn’t even noticed I was picking apart a paper napkin so finely the pieces looked like little snowflakes. Damn, I was nervous.

“Sorry. So it’s just my aunt, right? Have you found anything new?”

He shook his head. “No, from what I’ve gathered you had no siblings and neither did your father. Your grandparents passed away when you would have been very young. This would be your mother’s sister, and her only surviving one.”

“She doesn’t have any children?”

“No.”

“And what about the fire that killed my parents?”

“It was at a small bed and breakfast in Pensacola, which explains how you ended up in Florida. Officially, it was ruled an accident. Something electrical.”

“Officially?” Something in his tone let me know there was more to the story.

“Originally it was marked suspicious, but it was changed without any explanation. And your parents were the only ones who were killed. The fire started and ended in their room.”

The blood drained from my face as I took in what he said.

Three times I have cheated death. Three very fishy times.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind anymore someone was trying to kill me and had been trying since I was born. I looked around the room. Was my assassin was here now, just watching and waiting for his next opportunity?

Behind me, the door to the diner opened, and I jumped at the sound of the little bells.

“Samuel, what’ll you have, buttercup?”

Hearing the waitress saying the name, I shifted myself to look behind me.

“No way!” The words left my mouth so loud I ducked back down in my seat before the man sitting at the bar could see me.

“What’s wrong?” Richie reached into his jacket pocket to pull his gun out of his holster.

“No, no, no!” I hissed. “I just know him, that’s all.”

I couldn’t believe it. Right behind me sitting at the diner’s counter sat the man I had been dreaming about every night for a month. My heart stopped beating when I peeked my head out from the back of the booth.

He was just as gorgeous in person as he was in my dream, maybe even more so. He set a motorcycle helmet down on the counter next to him, and he was wearing the same gloves I recalled vividly.

I’d taken a course on sleep cycles last semester. A very short chapter in my textbook covered a bit on dream theory, but we had never covered it in class. Probably because there was nothing really scientific about it.

I did read it on my own though, out of curiosity, and I remembered it saying you can’t see someone in a dream you haven’t actually seen while you were awake. I would have to ask my professor about it when school was in session again in the fall, but it made sense. Clearly I had seen this man before, but where?

The vaguely familiar blonde waitress flirted with him while she took his order. A ping of jealousy mounted, which was stupid. I didn’t even know this man. What right did I have to be jealous?

He ordered a cup of coffee. I studied him closely, noticing he hadn’t removed his gloves. He turned his face and caught me staring. Embarrassed, I turned around, hoping Richie didn’t realize how peculiar I was acting. The grin on his face told me the wish was made in vain.

“Old boyfriend?” he teased.

“Not quite.” I tried to keep from returning his smile and changed the subject. “Why are you wearing sunglasses? We’re inside.”

“I feel more concealed.”

“Ah. Do all detectives think an expensive piece of eyewear makes them invisible, or is exclusively a Richie thing?”

“Do all psychology majors have such smart mouths, or is that an adopted kid thing?”

“How did you know I’m a psychology major?”

“Eliza.” He snorted. “I found your aunt with nothing more than the name of the agency you were adopted from. Who, by the way, had no idea where you came from. Are you really going to ask me how I knew you were a psychology major?”

“Fair enough.”

My ego still stung from the adopted kid joke, but this guy didn’t owe me any kindness, so I didn’t think too much of it.

“They really didn’t know who my parents were?”

“All they knew was the name of the gentleman who dropped you off.”

“What was his name?”

I leaned in close, feeling as if something huge was about to be revealed.

“Any pie today?” the waitress interrupted before Richie could answer.

I looked at my watch. “It’s eight-thirty in the morning!”

The blonde smacked her gum and rolled her eyes. “Boss said to push the pie, so I’m pushing the pie. Do you want any or not?”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “For somebody who works for tips you aren’t very friendly.”

“You weren’t going to leave me much anyway. Tourists never do.”

“What makes you think I’m a tourist?”

“Honey, in this diner we get in the regulars and we get in the tourists. And since you ain’t a regular…” She shrugged.

I rolled my eyes back at her and shook my head, hoping she was not an indication of what I could expect from all the locals. Especially my aunt.

“Ew.” She scrunched her face. “Darlin’, don’t you move. You got a big ol’ bug on your hand. Here, I’ll get it.”

Usually my reflexes were pretty fast, but hers were faster. Before I could pull my hand out of the way, hers came down on top of mine to squish the bug. I had gotten pretty good at not making a scene when this sort of thing happened in public, and I gritted my teeth as the burning rushed into my body.

Her hand involuntarily closed around mine as her body absorbed the shock of the suction my soul had on hers. She convulsed but remained on her feet, keeping my hand under hers so I could not pull it away. Her crystal blue eyes slowly relaxed and a smile swept over her face.

I closed my eyes, preparing for the height of the pain. I let out a grunt I couldn’t hold back as the pain peaked and my head took the brunt of the internal explosion. At the same time she released a gleeful and innocent tinkle of a chuckle, reminiscent of the girl in my dream.

I quickly opened my eyes. Oh my God! It was her! She now had the same bright smile as the blonde I had grown to know so well in my unconsciousness.

“Camille?” I whispered as she finally let go of my hand.

“Yes!” She grinned and looked hopeful, as if she might have found an old friend. “Do I know you? I’m so sorry. I have a terrible memory when it comes to faces! What’s your name?”

Even after all these years it never ceased to amaze me how quickly their personalities changed. Of course she was chipper. I had just sucked every bit of worry and care out of her heart, leaving nothing but the good for her to enjoy.

Secretly I wanted so badly to be able to enjoy it with her. But it would take days for my mind to clean out the negative energy she had just unknowingly unloaded into me. I would spend the next few hours feeling completely spent and exhausted, and since it was purely spiritual I couldn’t just sleep it off.

“No, you don’t know me,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t question it. After a session I could convince my fortunate victim I was the Queen of France because they would inherently trust me forever afterward.

Just as I expected, her smile grew even bigger and she left it alone. “All right, then. I’m going to bring you both some pie. It’s on the house!”

She scurried away, and I was not at all eager to meet Richie’s gaze. I knew he would want an explanation, and he did not disappoint.

“What the hell was that?”

“Shh.” I tried to quiet him down. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to us, and apparently neither did he because he lowered his voice.

“Eliza, what just happened? Did you hypnotize her?”

“What?” I tried to look innocent and took a page from my aunt Patrice’s book. “No! I just have hypersensitive skin. It hurts when people touch me.”