probably used to much more sophisticated women than a small-town Midwesterner like herself. But at least they could enjoy each other’s company.
“Well, I for one am not going to acquire a taste for that rice sausage dish,” she declared. “It was so hot I couldn’t breathe for a couple of minutes after the first bite. But the filé gumbo was delicious.”
“I agree.”
They were taking a cab to the voodoo ceremony, and Kerry shivered slightly as they passed a cemetery. She hoped the rite wasn’t performed there.
The cabbie let them out at a gate just beyond the graveyard and nodded toward a grove of trees. Lights twinkled between the branches. “Over there,” he said, nodding in that direction. “Stay with the crowd and you’ll be fine.”
Matt paid the man and thanked him. “You will be back to pick us up?”
“Sure thing, mon. Two hours.” He handed over a card. “But call if it ends before then.”
The driver seemed certain the ceremony would take the full two hours. Kerry glanced toward the cemetery and another shiver pressed along her spine. A wrought-iron fence separated the cemetery from the grove of trees, which was reassuring.
She almost laughed at herself. As if that spindly little fence could keep out ghosts.
When had she started to believe in the supernatural? she wondered. Glancing at her tall handsome companion as they hurried along the path to the edge of the bayou, she was grateful not to be alone.
A slow drumbeat beckoned the followers to gather for the ceremony. Healing, Kerry had learned, also involved cleansing. It was necessary to get rid of the evil in one’s heart so that the Spirit of Healing could enter.
As she and Matt walked out of the trees into the clearing, the beat of the drum picked up, becoming softer but more urgent.
“Come,” a woman said as if she’d been expecting them for some time. “Sit here.”
Kerry tucked her hand into the crook of Matt’s elbow and held on, unnerved by the woman’s appearance.
Her hair was pure white and very long, past her waist, and spilled from a gold scarf tied gypsy-fashion over her head. Her brown face looked like crumpled paper, it was so lined.
Her makeup was similar to what Patti had worn in her Queen Patrice persona, with gold the dominant color, then green and purple. The woman’s blouse and long skirt were black, and she wore a gold-and-green striped cape tied with a purple cord.
“Thank you,” Matt said to the crone.
He and Kerry sat where she indicated on a woven grass rug. The man at Matt’s left leaned close. “That was the old queen,” he said in awe. “You must be special for her to recognize you.”
Matt couldn’t imagine why. “Have you been to these ceremonies before?”
“Several times. My grandmother lives near here and my family visits every January.”
“Is there anything special we’re expected to do during the, uh, performance?”
“No. The queen and her court do everything. Every spirit has its song, dance and rhythm. The audience must never do anything to disrupt the flow or the spirit may be displeased and bring disaster to us all.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing by being here,” Matt said wryly.
“This is good Ju-Ju ,” the man confided. “The Healing Spirit is gentle. The Earth Spirit requires a blood sacrifice, which bothers some people.”
The lonely beat of a single drum suddenly echoed around the clearing and over the opaque waters of the bayou, making it seem as if there were hundreds of drummers.
“The Spirit of Healing,” the man told them, “is symbolized by thunder. We’ll hear lots of drums tonight. The dancing will be entertaining, and sensuous.” He grinned, not in a lewd manner but as one tourist to another.
Matt and Kerry nodded together. Their eyes met. Kerry squeezed Matt’s arm, which she hadn’t realized she was holding, then let go. He smiled as if assuring her all would be well.
She hoped he was right. Little flashes of nervous
“Well, I for one am not going to acquire a taste for that rice sausage dish,” she declared. “It was so hot I couldn’t breathe for a couple of minutes after the first bite. But the filé gumbo was delicious.”
“I agree.”
They were taking a cab to the voodoo ceremony, and Kerry shivered slightly as they passed a cemetery. She hoped the rite wasn’t performed there.
The cabbie let them out at a gate just beyond the graveyard and nodded toward a grove of trees. Lights twinkled between the branches. “Over there,” he said, nodding in that direction. “Stay with the crowd and you’ll be fine.”
Matt paid the man and thanked him. “You will be back to pick us up?”
“Sure thing, mon. Two hours.” He handed over a card. “But call if it ends before then.”
The driver seemed certain the ceremony would take the full two hours. Kerry glanced toward the cemetery and another shiver pressed along her spine. A wrought-iron fence separated the cemetery from the grove of trees, which was reassuring.
She almost laughed at herself. As if that spindly little fence could keep out ghosts.
When had she started to believe in the supernatural? she wondered. Glancing at her tall handsome companion as they hurried along the path to the edge of the bayou, she was grateful not to be alone.
A slow drumbeat beckoned the followers to gather for the ceremony. Healing, Kerry had learned, also involved cleansing. It was necessary to get rid of the evil in one’s heart so that the Spirit of Healing could enter.
As she and Matt walked out of the trees into the clearing, the beat of the drum picked up, becoming softer but more urgent.
“Come,” a woman said as if she’d been expecting them for some time. “Sit here.”
Kerry tucked her hand into the crook of Matt’s elbow and held on, unnerved by the woman’s appearance.
Her hair was pure white and very long, past her waist, and spilled from a gold scarf tied gypsy-fashion over her head. Her brown face looked like crumpled paper, it was so lined.
Her makeup was similar to what Patti had worn in her Queen Patrice persona, with gold the dominant color, then green and purple. The woman’s blouse and long skirt were black, and she wore a gold-and-green striped cape tied with a purple cord.
“Thank you,” Matt said to the crone.
He and Kerry sat where she indicated on a woven grass rug. The man at Matt’s left leaned close. “That was the old queen,” he said in awe. “You must be special for her to recognize you.”
Matt couldn’t imagine why. “Have you been to these ceremonies before?”
“Several times. My grandmother lives near here and my family visits every January.”
“Is there anything special we’re expected to do during the, uh, performance?”
“No. The queen and her court do everything. Every spirit has its song, dance and rhythm. The audience must never do anything to disrupt the flow or the spirit may be displeased and bring disaster to us all.”
“I hope we’re doing the right thing by being here,” Matt said wryly.
“This is good Ju-Ju ,” the man confided. “The Healing Spirit is gentle. The Earth Spirit requires a blood sacrifice, which bothers some people.”
The lonely beat of a single drum suddenly echoed around the clearing and over the opaque waters of the bayou, making it seem as if there were hundreds of drummers.
“The Spirit of Healing,” the man told them, “is symbolized by thunder. We’ll hear lots of drums tonight. The dancing will be entertaining, and sensuous.” He grinned, not in a lewd manner but as one tourist to another.
Matt and Kerry nodded together. Their eyes met. Kerry squeezed Matt’s arm, which she hadn’t realized she was holding, then let go. He smiled as if assuring her all would be well.
She hoped he was right. Little flashes of nervous
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