Broken Bayou Read online

  “If what? You’re not making sense, sweetheart,” Cal says. The mystery man simply looks on with confusion.

  “If what I was seeing was accurate. The house. I’ve never stepped foot in it, yet I saw it. I saw the inside. I saw the bodies. Oh, please be wrong. Please be wrong!” I say, barreling through the front doors without a thought of asking the owner for consent. “Oh, my God. The grand ballroom, it’s here. The piano. It’s still here.” I run across the hall. “The kitchen is here, and a parlor,” I say running to the next room. “Bathroom.” I yank open the door, and indeed, it’s the bathroom. “Upstairs to the right: bedroom, bedroom, bathroom. Middle: sitting area and balcony. Left: office, linen closet, bedroom,” I say, pointing in the general direction of each room with my finger.

  The mystery man, who is obviously the owner, looks stunned and confused when he nods.

  “How do I know this, Cal? How is it even possible for me to know this!”

  “Slow down, Cheyenne. There has to be a logical and simple explanation for this. Take a deep breath.”

  “This is used as a bed and breakfast. Did you visit with us before? Perhaps you’ve visited our website? Lots of pictures on there.”

  “No. I was born and raised in Oklahoma. I’ve never even been to Louisiana until I moved here not that long ago.”

  “Uh, why don’t you come into the kitchen for a cold drink?” the owner suggests, looking even more confused than before.

  “Thanks, Ben. That’s a good idea.” Cal takes my elbow and helps me to the kitchen. Ben opens a massive stainless steel refrigerator and starts to lay out an assortment of beverages onto the counter.

  “May I have some of that?” I ask, nodding to a selection of bottles that line a shelf on one of the far walls. He pulls a rocks glass from the shelf below it, drops two cubes of ice inside, and pours it about two fingers full of bourbon. He looks at me, looks at the glass, and then adds about two more fingers’ worth before passing me the glass. He then pours one for himself.

  The fire starts in my mouth and quickly descends to my belly, and the sensation slowly spreads to every inch of my body. As the heat spreads, calm begins to replace the anxiety.

  “Better?” Cal asks when he notices the transformation. I nod.

  “Thank you,” I eke out to Ben. He gives me a salute and simultaneous wink before pouring himself another. He holds the bottle up and waves it to ask if I’d like another. Shaking my head, I have to look twice because it suddenly occurs to me how much he resembles Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard.

  Though I’m much calmer, I still have the same questions. “Cal, how can I know the layout of a house I’ve never been in?”

  “You told Mrs. Milly that you were familiar with the murders. How are you familiar with them? Maybe you saw pictures in a book or a magazine? Because of the attention the case got, things continue to pop up here and there.”

  I try to remember, and I vaguely recall reading a few books that contained true crime stories. But why were the images in my mind so vivid. If it’s something I simply read in passing, why do I remember details so well? I put my face in my hands. “Maybe so.” I concede because frankly, it’s the only feasible option I’ve got right now.

  “Unless you’ve been possessed by one of the murder victims,” Ben chimes in. Cal and I give him simultaneous disparaging looks before I put my face in my hands.

  “Hey, how many famous crime scenes have you actually visited?” Cal asks once he pulls my hand away from my eyes.

  “None, until today.”

  “Then that has to be it. You’re simply remembering what you saw. Being inside the house triggered a memory of the pages you’ve read.”

  “That has to be it, right?” I ask, sincerely trying to convince myself. I look towards Ben, and he offers me a shrug and a nod.

  “That’s it,” Cal says, scrunching me in a super tight hug around the shoulders.

  “Okay,” I say, before taking a slow deep breath. “I’m sorry for all of the commotion.”

  “No need to apologize, little lady. I’m just glad you’re alright,” Ben says.

  “Would it be okay with you if we reschedule due to the circumstances?” Cal asks Ben.

  “No!” I interject. “Please don’t reschedule on my account. I’m fine. Really.”

  “I don’t know…,” Cal starts.

  “I promise I’ll let you know if I start to feel bad,” I insist.

  “Okay,” he says with a reassuring smile.

  “Why don’t we take this to the screened porch? I believe we can all use a little fresh air,” Ben suggests.

  “Perfect,” Cal says, readying a notepad and pen once he’s seated. Cal asks questions, and Ben patiently answers them; however, my mind drifts to earlier. I’m still scared. I’ve never blacked out or lost control like that before, and it makes me consider checking in with a family doctor or maybe even a therapist.

  “You can if you’d like,” Ben says.

  “I’m sorry,” I say when I realize he’s speaking to me.

  “You keep eyeing the place. You can look around if you’d like. Maybe before was just a lucky guess. You might go upstairs and nothing will look like it did during that spell you had. Should make you feel better.”

  “That’s true. It might look nothing like...., well, whatever it was,” I excitedly wave my hands. Ben has given me hope that I’m not going bonkers, and he’s rewarded with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Awww, thank you for that, darlin’. Now you take your time and just holler if you need anything.”

  Cal looks somewhat apprehensive, but ultimately gives me a reassuring smile. I start up the steps and end up back in the kitchen. No strange sensations or sightings happen in there. Moving into the main foyer, I make my way to the large ballroom. The grand piano has been moved to a different corner of the room, the furnishings replaced with new fabrics, and a long bar that once filled a large portion of one wall has been removed. “How did I know there was a bar there? Pictures,” I explain to myself. As I walk through I remember every place a body once laid, and though I feel anxiety raring, I’m able to keep it at bay.

  I slowly start up the stairs, hoping beyond all hope that it looks nothing like what I saw in my mind. The closer I get to the top landing, the more disappointed I become. It’s just as I recall, and some of the rooms still have the same antiquated décor. I stand in front of the closet I saw in my mind trying to draw up the courage to open it. My heart thuds in my chest as I reach out to open it. Just as my hand touches the knob—

  “Cheyenne?” It’s Cal. He startles the hell out of me, and I nearly fall on my rear when I trip over a footstool.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?” he asks, helping me to regain steady footing.

  “Yes, I’m fine. My heart might not agree right now, but I’m okay.”

  He smiles. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought you’d hear me coming up the stairs.”

  “The only thing I heard was the sound of blood swooshing through my ears while I tried to muster the courage to open this door.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “A closet.”

  “And you know this…”

  “From earlier.”

  He looks at me briefly before reaching out and opening the door. Sure enough, it’s a large walk-in closet. “It used to be a bathroom before they converted it,” I speak without even thinking. Drawing my hands to my mouth, I gasp when that information comes out. “How could I know that, Cal?”

  He gently pushes me aside so he can shut the door. “In what other rooms did you have experiences?”

  “The grand ball room, but I’ve already been there. Some of the furniture is different, a bar is missing, and the piano has been moved.”

  “Where else?” Cal asks.

  “The parlor, but I haven’t been in there, yet.”

  “Take me with you, and tell me everything, okay?”

  I nod, leading the way to the room. As soon as
I walk in, it’s as though I’m seeing it through someone else’s eyes. I don’t go into the trance like before, but if I close my eyes, I can vividly imagine everything. “There were two people found in this room: a man and a woman. He was lying across her, face down, and had many bullet holes in his back. She had black hair that was cut short and styled with large curls. She wore a white dress with big gold and white buttons and a rhinestone pin shaped like a flower. I can see the blood make its way up her dress as she gasps for air, and that’s all I remember. Do you honestly think I’d retain this much knowledge from a picture I may have possibly seen years ago? And how do I know about the positions of the people, their injuries, what they looked like…”

  “I don’t know, but there is someone who might be able to help us.”

  “Who’s that?” I ask, desperate for a lifeline of any kind.

  “My dad, Felton Gage. He worked the case, so he’d be familiar with those kinds of details. At the very least, he can refute or affirm whether what you’re seeing is accurate.”

  “Your dad is going to think I’m nuts,” I protest.

  “He won’t. Like he’d say, he knows a nut when he sees one, and baby, a nut you ain’t,” he says jokingly, and he moves in for a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Yeah, well I’m even having a hard time believing that right now.”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here. May I take you to lunch? I know a place guaranteed to take your mind off all this mess.”

  “I’m intrigued, yet slightly apprehensive.”

  “Rightfully so,” he chides. “Now get in the car.”

  After a series of windy roads, a few small towns, and a pontoon bridge, we come to a place situated right on the water. Zydeco music pours from the long building nestled amongst a cluster of cypress trees. Quite like New Orleans, the air holds a distinctively different energy.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “My hometown, Frenchman’s Cove. This restaurant is run by my old neighbors, so expect a lot of shouting, hugging, and kissing. It’s the Cajun way.”

  “I’m scared,” I say jokingly.

  “I told you, you should be.” With that he opens a large set of wooden doors to reveal an open room that is wood from floor to ceiling. The walls are decorated with Cajun themed paintings, shrimp nets, and a variety of animals indigenous to the region. As I slowly take in everything around the room, it becomes clear to me that these people must keep a taxidermist on standby.

  “Oh, my word! Cal Gage, you carry your little butt on down here and give Miss Nelly a big ole hug. Right now, young man!” a very large woman with short gray hair and a wooden spoon in her hand screams from the doorway of the kitchen.

  I expect the entire restaurant to quiet down and stare with bewilderment, but it’s as if no one even notices the squeals coming from Miss Nelly. She swallows Cal in a bone-crushing embrace, smashing his cheek tightly into her bosom. She slowly rocks side to side. “Lord have mercy, I miss me some Cal Gage. How you been? You still at the college up the road, yeah?” She finally turns him loose, and Cal works to smooth his hair back into place.

  “Yes, Miss Nelly. I’m still down the road. I want you to meet a friend of mine. Cheyenne…,” Cal calls, extending his arm and waving me over.

  I reluctantly head in that direction because I’m scared Miss Nelly will snap me in two if she hugs me like she hugged Cal.

  “Mmmm. Mmmm. Mmmmmmm. Aren’t you just gorgeous? Mais, you prolly the prettiest person to pass through them doors. Cal, how a stinker like you manage to land a woman like her?”

  “I ask myself the same thing every day,” he says, smiling in my direction. I blush from the extra attention.

  “Joel! Carry yourself out here for a sec. Come see who done popped in. Joel!”

  “I’m right here, woman. What you goin’ yelling for. You know I’m right behind that door right there. Always so loud…” He stops grumbling for a second. “Cal! How you been, son?” He grips Cal’s hand for a shake before pulling him in tightly for a quick hug.

  “I’ve been great. Cheyenne here is having a rough day, though. I believe a bowl of Miss Nelly’s gumbo might be the right medicine.”

  “Sure fixed you up when you was down, didn’t it?”

  “It surely did many times. Miss Nelly’s gumbo can cure anything from depression to the flu,” Cal responds, his Cajun accent growing thicker by the second. Miss Nelly beams with pride.

  “You two go grab a seat outside. The weather’s perfect, and some sunshine will do you some good. You let God’s light warm your outside, and soon enough, my gumbo’s gonna be warming you on the inside. Nobody can feel bad after ingesting all that goodness!” Miss Nelly exclaims.

  Cal pats Joel on the shoulder before moving towards a set of wooden doors at the rear of the restaurant. We’re stopped briefly on the way out by Father Donnelly who is making his way to the front to pay his bill.

  “I just left your dad’s,” he mentions. “He’s looking pretty spry for an old geezer.”

  “Yeah? I’m glad he’s having a good day. I’m bringing Cheyenne over to meet him once we leave here.”

  “Ah, he’ll enjoy that. Here’s a warning to you, missy. He acts rough and gruff, but he’s nothing but an old softy,” Father Donnelly offers. I give him a slight smile. “Well, I should get going. You two have a blessed day.” Almost as an aside he mentions, “I’m here if you ever need to talk. I see the worry in your eyes, child. No judgment. I’m just here to help.”

  “Thank you, Father.” I’m embarrassed because I’m obviously not doing a very good job of hiding my emotions. Father Donnelly nods towards Cal as he puts on his black felt hat and makes his way to the cashier. We continue through the wooden doors onto a veranda that overlooks the water. The entire area is a maze of tables and chairs, and Cal picks one in the far corner that offers the best view of a boat chugging down the river.

  “Got the entire place to ourselves,” he says, stretching his legs to the chair across from him while putting his hands behind his head. He leaves his position long enough to push a chair right beside his then he pats the seat. “Come on. Let’s relax together.”

  I move from the chair I was sitting in to the one beside him, and he reaches around my shoulder to cradle me. Following his lead, I kick my feet up on the chair opposite me and settle into his embrace. “What if your dad can’t give me the answers, Cal?”

  “I’ve learned that nothing good ever comes from what-ifs.”

  “I suppose, but I feel like I’m teeter tottering on the edge of insanity. Nothing makes sense.”

  “You’re not insane. Maybe you can’t explain what happened yet, but don’t even entertain that thought because that’s not it.”

  “Do you believe in the paranormal?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Do you believe Ben’s theory that a ghost possessed you and put those memories in your head?” he quips.

  “So many strange things have happened since moving here, and Louisiana is known for being a paranormal hotspot. I thought you might have the inside scoop being you’re from here. Is that stuff real? I thought it was just stories told to add to the ambience.”

  Cal kisses the top of my head. “I have lived here most of my life. I’ve been to supposedly haunted sites, I’ve visited a voodoo priestess, and I’ve even hidden out in a graveyard all night as a kid. I never saw anything; never witnessed anything. The power of suggestion is a very real tool that is often used to guide a person into thinking a certain way. Remember that fortune teller?”

  “How can I forget?”

  “She took a few simple things she observed, strung them together with some stupid rhyme, and she had you convinced she’d channeled one of your parents.”

  “What about the girl in red? How could she know about me seeing her?”

  “Did she say the little girl in red who dances around in the courtyard below your apartment?”

  “No,” I answer.

  “How many little girls wear red? Go to
the store or any other public place and I bet you run into at least ten. It was just random and generic guesses that she made.”

  “Thank you.” I offer him my lips for a kiss.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, accepting my offer. I gasp and his brows furrow.

  “The man who prays!” I say excitedly. “Do you think she was talking about Father Donnelly?”

  Cal laughs. “Once again, how many people run into priests? There were no specifics. Cheyenne, I promise you, there is nothing accurate or foreboding about what she said. She probably tells the same rhyme to every person she comes across.”

  I settle back into his arms. “You’re right. Ah, I hate this.”

  “Look. See that island way out there?” He points, and I see a cluster of trees a good ways in the distance that appear to emerge from the middle of the river. I nod. “I used to pretend like I was Huck Finn and paddle out to the island to play. I had a club house and everything.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep, until my dad found out I was playing over there and put an end to it. He said it was far too dangerous for me to be exploring on my own.”

  “I have to agree with him. Weren’t you scared at all? What if you’d gotten hurt?”

  “Yep, that’s pretty much the lecture I got from him, too. I used to dream that one day I’d build a house there.”

  “Why’d you give up on that dream?” I ask.

  “Do you know what a bitch it would be get to work every morning by boat?”

  I laugh. “So no bridges or ferries to get you across”

  “Nope. Boat only.”

  “Wow. You were an adventurous young man.”

  “Nah, not really, just bored. Most of it was because I had to come up with ways to keep myself entertained. Unfortunately, most of them ended with phone calls to my dad. That’s why I liked playing at the deserted island. No tattlers.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated those phone calls,” I say playfully.

  “Oh yeah. My butt got torn up more than once.”

  I laugh. “Your dad was a spanker, huh?”