“Why don’t they go to a doctor?”
Holly shook her head. “Many of them either have gone and gotten no relief or can’t afford to go. Mémère helps them, whether or not they can afford to pay. She helps with emotional support as well. Sometimes, all they need is a shoulder to lean on. Someone who will bear witness to their love, loss or loneliness.”
Holly wove in and out of the channels until she came to a small island. A short dock jutted out into the water with a skiff tied to a cleat on one of the pilings.
Relief filled Holly’s heart. “Oh, good, she’s home.” She killed the engine and floated up to the dock.
When they were close, Simon reached out a hand and caught the edge, pulling the skiff alongside. Using the line at the front of the craft, he tied it to a piling and stepped up onto the weathered boardwalk.
He reached down, grasped Holly’s hand and pulled her up beside him, slipping an arm around her waist to steady her.
She liked how strong and solid he was. For the moment, she wasn’t in a hurry to move away.
“Holly, my dear girl,” a voice called out from the porch of the house perched on a gentle rise above the dock.
Holly glanced up at Simon. “Fair warning...my Mémère can be direct, and sometimes, intimidating. Don’t take her words personally. She really does wish most people well.”
“Are there some she doesn’t?”
Holly’s lips twitched. “There have been a few who’ve gotten crossways with her. She has her own special way of handling them.”
“With a curse?”
“Maybe.”
“You go on,” Simon said. “I’ll tie off the boat and join you.”
“Afraid of her?” Holly asked.
He grinned and echoed her own word, “Maybe.”
With a smile on her face, Holly strode up the rise, taking in all that was familiar, from the colorful chickens pecking at the dirt to the vibrant paint scheme on the cottage she’d spent much of her childhood. The house itself was painted a glorious cerulean blue, representing peace, serenity and the spiritual realm. Windows and doors were trimmed in a bright saffron, indicating understanding, mental clarity, and open communication. The door and shutters were a bold chili-pepper red for strength, power and passion. Standing on the porch, wearing a flowing caftan of all those colors and more, with a matching scarf tied over her shock of white hair, was her grandmother.
Holly hurried up the steps and wrapped her arms around the woman she loved with all her heart. “Mémère, I’ve missed you so much.”
The older woman held her tightly and patted her back. “About time you came home. You never should’ve left.” She sniffed and pulled back. “What’s this I hear that you changed your name to Hazard? What’s that all about?”
Holly smiled down at her diminutive grandmother. “I’d hoped that by changing my name and moving to another state, the curse wouldn’t find me.”
“That’s the biggest bunch of gator droppings I’ve ever heard. You’re a Gautier, by birth and blood. Hazard.” She snorted. “You’re not a Hazard. The curse isn’t about you.”
“But it is.” Holly gripped her grandmother’s hands. “I thought by moving that I could keep other people I love safe. And it worked for six months. Or at least, I thought it worked. Until another message appeared in my bathroom mirror in Atlanta. It was then that I realized it would follow me anywhere. I needed to come home and warn you, my friends and family, that it was back.”
“Hogwash, my dear. You should’ve stayed. I would’ve insisted that you come back, but you were grieving. I thought being away from what happened might help you move past your loss.” She curled her fingers around her granddaughter’s and squeezed. “But, Holly, my dear, sweet girl, you can’t run away from your problems. You have to stay and fight.”
Holly nodded, tears welling. “I know that now. I hope you can help me.”
“You can tell me all about it after you introduce me to the fine, sturdy oak of a man headed this way.” She leaned around her granddaughter and called out, “Mind yourself. Napoleon doesn’t like men.”
Simon’s brow dipped. “Napoleon?”
As if on cue, a flash of color flew across the yard, straight at Simon, and attacked his legs.
“What the—” Simon danced around, trying to avoid a large, brown, blue, red and black rooster with a massive red comb.
“That’s Napoleon,” her grandmother said. “You know what to do.”
Holly chuckled and reached for the large fish net hanging on a hook on a post and hurried out into the yard.
