The guys all laughed at Romeo, giving him hell because he had been busted.
Side by side, Eva and I entered into the cool air of the house, the zest of lemon and lime permeating. My mother had a field day decorating the place. All old French touches, including having the original floors redone, hanging chandeliers to give the place a rich feel, and keeping some of the candelabras that had been used so long ago. The ceilings were high, traced by crown molding, and some walls were made of a lighter brick.
It was hard not to waltz back in time—the jingle of reins as carriages passed, theclopclopof hooves against cobblestone streets, and ladies sweeping past in bulbous dresses, their umbrellas held high against the blazing sun. A man in a dapper suit, bending down to pick up a beautiful lady’s dainty embroidered handkerchief from the ground—one that she had dropped on purpose so he’d pick it up.
There was an art to flirting, Maja had always said. A woman could use it to her advantage. Without a word being uttered, she could make the first move, though the man would think it washisidea.
New Orleans brought back all of those old-time feelings, though I never felt more in the moment than I did here. The people of New Orleans seemed to savor life.
After sending the men off to explore the property, we settled on the top gallery, overlooking the street, sipping sparkling limewater. Eva’s house was so close that we could have thrown a football from one balcony to the other. Her husband’s music seemed even clearer from this level. I closed my eyes, lost to it.
“Your husband is talented,” I said, relaxing into the melody, into the intoxicating heat. “What’s his name?”
“Gabriel.” The ice clinked in her glass when she took another sip.
Gabriel Roberts…Gabriel Roberts…
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “The movie star!” My eyes snapped open.
She gave me a half smile. “Don’t tell him that. He doesn’t believe it.”
I laughed. “He quit the business, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, looking across the way, almost longingly. “He started a new company with his brother, Michael. Saving Angels. They manufacture guitars and pianos.”
“He seems to have found his place. I’ve never heard anyone sing that way.”
She sighed. “Me either.” She turned her curious eyes on me. “Your man—”
“Brando.”
“Brando.” She nodded. “He’s a swimmer?”
“Yes. Well, no. He used to be in the Coast Guard. He was a Rescue Swimmer in Alaska. Now he works offshore as a diver.”
“Strong,” she muttered to herself. “Like a rock.”
I noticed that she did that quite a bit, talked to herself, almost like she was trying to solve a mystery. She hadn’t mentioned what she had dreamed of in specific terms. I was too afraid to ask—just yet. Something about her, as endearing as she was, also gave me a feeling of foreboding. Sheknewthings that other people didn’t. It made every hair on my body rise.
I decided to move in a safer direction. “You mentioned that I was touched…is that why you dreamed of me?”
She glanced my way for a brief second. “Sometimes I suspect that people who are touched can find me more easily in dreams. Other times—” She looked to the sky, as I would do at night, and her eyes seemed so innocent. “I think it’s destined by the stars.”
I followed her gaze, wishing the stars were out and she stood next to me when they were.
“You watch them too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “All of the time.”
“You know your touch, but you are still navigating. The stars are your home. I find my home there too.”
My blood started to dance in my veins then. I closed my eyes, my entire body giving over to the sensation, to the wild crave. The gravity that was mine shifted, and if I closed my eyes, opened my arms, I almost felt like I could fly to him without sight and still find his heart.
“He’s here,” she said.
Opening my eyes, I found him right away. He was moving through crowds of people navigating the old streets, his Ray Bans on, a black shirt tight against his chest, jeans, and boots. A bag was slung over his shoulder, and to my surprise, Eunice was next to him. She chattered away, pointing like a child at whatever held her attention.
He stopped for a moment, his gaze connecting with my location, but I knew he couldn’t see me. He felt me. He didn’t even know he was looking for me. I had convinced Rocco that my parent’s place in the French Quarter would be safe.
