Being inside with the windows covered is making me seriously claustrophobic. Even with the AC running, it’s like what happened between Honey and me last night has sucked all the oxygen out of the house. So I head out to the front porch to sit on the steps to stare at the river. You’d never even know a storm was brewing. It’s a gorgeous evening. Clear with a good strong breeze to dry your sweat and keep the mosquitoes away.
To keep those chimes singing.
I was hoping to see Evie. I want to hug her goodbye. Make sure she’s okay. And now that we’re all evacuating tomorrow, I need to try one more time with her. To see if maybe she’ll spill whatever secrets Elora has been whispering in her ear.
But Evie is nowhere to be seen. It isn’t long before Sera and Sander and Mackey show up, though. At least our magic still holds. Still draws us together. The four of us huddle on the front steps of the Mystic Rose, exhausted from a long day of trying to get ready for the kind of storm you can’t really prepare for.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Mackey says, more to himself than to us, and Sander gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Right?”
“No way to know,” Sera answers. “There are some things you just can’t say for sure.”
That reminds me of Honey’s words the other morning.
Sugar Bee, in the end, not everything is knowable.
But maybe she was wrong.
“How do you learn to control your gifts?” I know my question seems to come out of nowhere, but I’ve just realized I may not have another chance to ask them. At least not for a long time.
Sera just looks at me. “Grey,” Mackey starts, “are you –”
But Sera cuts him off. “You don’t learn to control ’em. You learn to live with ’em. You make space for whatever abilities you have. And you make damn sure to keep some space for yourself. If you can.” She reaches over and lays her hand on mine. “If you’re lucky.” Sander is studying me, and his eyes look sad. “You fight as hard as you can every single day to never let yourself get lost.”
I think about Hart, sinking so deep in the things he feels.
Of Evie. Drowning in what she hears.
And my mother, so swept up in her own power that she lost herself for good. First, when I was four, in the grey dawn behind Dempsey Fontenot’s cabin. Then again in the dark of her own bedroom, when I was eight years old.
I vow that I won’t let that happen to me.
When the others leave, I catch sight of Case and Wrynn out on the river dock.
It’s been a long time since his fight with Hart, but I figure I still owe Case a real apology, so I cross the boardwalk in their direction.
“Hey,” I say. Case is squatting down, examining the rotting wood. He scratches at the white paint with one fingernail to reveal the decay underneath. Then he stands up to look at me. “I just wanted to say –”
“Sorry?” He turns his head to spit into the river. “Or goodbye?”
“Both. I guess.”
He smirks at me with one side of his mouth.
“Well,” he says. “Guess dat ’bout covers it.”
I don’t know what else to tell him.
Case looks at me for a few seconds while Wrynn fidgets beside him.
“You know what made Elora so special?” he finally asks. His voice is low and gruff. Threaded with heartache. Like a Cajun ballad. “She made us all think dat she loved us best. Didn’t she, chere?”
And I guess that’s true.
“I gotta get on home,” Case says. “Lots to do. We’re clearin’ out come mornin’。 Before da storm hits.”
“Take care of yourself, Case,” I tell him.
“Yeah.” He nods and runs a hand through that red hair. “And you take care a you, okay?”
He starts off down the boardwalk and Wrynn looks up at me, blinking.
“Be careful, Grey,” she warns. She’s all wide eyes and sun-pink cheeks. “Da rougarou, he don’t care ’bout no storm. He’ll eat you up, just da same.”
Then she turns and runs after her brother. I head back to the front porch and change into my mud boots before I start for Li’l Pass.
There’s nobody waiting for me at the trailer, so I kick off my boots and crawl up on top to sit cross-legged and watch the sun set.
La Cachette looks different somehow. All I see now is how small it is. How dwarfed the boardwalk looks, compared with the Mighty Mississippi stretched out behind it, ready to swallow it whole.
I feel the hair on my arms and neck react to his presence, but I don’t turn around. I don’t have to. I know he’s there.