“Those dogs are very well behaved. How old are they?” Grace asked, as she set about making tea from the kettle that always sat onthe stove. “’Bout six or seven months.” Mambo Ayezan murmured. “They will stay with you and obey you.”
“What commands do they know?” As they conversed, Grace marveled that her curiosity about the woman had so quickly overcome her fear and distrust.
“Whatever orders you give them. They are friends of Papa Legba, so they will understand.”
Odd. I guess I’ll find out as we go on.
“Okay. How do you like your tea? Sugar, lemon, cream?”
“I prefer my tea black.”
Grace poured a cup and set it in front of the mambo, then rummaged in a drawer for writing tools.
“Are the leaves from your own shrubs?” Mambo Ayezan asked. “I saw tea bushes on either side of your kitchen door.”
There is no light outside to see by. How could she possibly…?
This was a woman who spoke to invisible spirits, so Grace wasn’t going to ask.
“Even before they are harvested, tea leaves have a scent detectable to any who wish to acknowledge the odor.” Mambo Ayezan said, as if she’d read Grace’s mind.
She smiled. “My mother’s tea bushes are still in good enough shape to use the leaves. I wouldn’t trust anything grown and harvested somewhere else.”
“Very wise of you,” the mambo remarked. “Now, listen carefully. When you have heard all I must tell, you may ask what questions you wish. I hope, by then, you will be able to trust me.”
Grace sipped her tea. “I suppose that will depend on what you have to say and the answers to my questions.”
“First, understand you need answers to questions you will not wish to ask. You need to know about your dreams.”
“My dreams?” Grace asked, keeping her voice even, almost disinterested.What could this woman, a complete stranger, possibly know about my dreams?
“Do you mean my nightmares or my ambitions?”
Mambo pursed her lips, nodding. “They may be the same thing.”
Then this little old lady is a liar, for I have no ambitions. No hopes. However, Grace had nightmares aplenty.
She studied the mambo’s lined face, before sipping more tea.
“You will not get the things you think you want,” Mambo Ayezan stated.
Since I am without hope or ambition, that statement is true. Yet this woman was a stranger. How could she know?
Grace held her tongue. Most charlatans succeeded because their marks gave away too much information.
“You must find hope and cherish it, then give it away, if you are ever to find your only love.” The older woman fell silent, staring hard at Grace’s reactions.Cherish hope, then give it away to find love?Pah!
That, too, was the kind of thing any con artist would say. Vague enough to be true, concerning just about anything. Mambo Ayezan wasn’t gaining trust with that sort of statement.
“Go on,” she suggested, since the mambo seemed to expect an answer.
Despite being brought up by a wealthy and loving Boston couple, Grace had learned when her parents died, not to hope. The recent scandal in Boston had reinforced the idea. Like caring, hope was a chimera. Hard work and action, those were means and reward unto themselves.
“All people wish to love and be loved.” Mambo Ayezan stared into the distance. “You hurt yourself and others by denying your heart’s desire.”
Grace repressed a laugh. “Oh, and what is my heart’s desire?”
The elderly woman waved a hand. “What you long for is not as important as your need for it.” She set her cup down, then let her hands fall to her lap.
