“I can’t even imagine. I feel like the fact that you’re even having sex right now is amazing.” Ophelia took a sip of her drink and examined her beautiful best friend. Jade was part Honduran with gorgeous Pantene Pro-V hair and caramel skin. She was an amazing mother, and Ophelia found so much joy in watching her evolve into the next phase of her life.
Ophelia, Jade, and Luke devoured the home-cooked meal, then rested on the couch withGilmore Girls, Ophelia and Jade’s feel-good show, until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer and headed to bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Delphine’s funeral was to be held at St. Augustine’s in the Treme, an old Catholic Church that likely had little ADA accommodations. The plan was for Ophelia, her aunt Susan, Mawmaw, and Jack, Ophelia’s cousin and Susan’s only son, to attend the funeral. Aunt Susan would drive Mawmaw from Oakdale to the funeral, and Jack would attend to help maneuver Mawmaw up any steps.
Jack, only a year younger than Ophelia, lived in New Orleans as well. He typically kept to himself, so Ophelia only saw him sporadically. She tried to get him out by inviting him to parties or nights out, and he’d show up every now and then. She wouldn’t consider him a close friend, but he was family, and she sought to include him when it made sense.
Jack and Ophelia played together a lot when they were younger. However, when he was twelve, his parents split, and he moved from the Northshore back to Oakdale with his mom. The divorce absolutely wrecked him, and he spent most of his teen years in and out of a psych ward. Somewhere along the way, he eventually found God, declaring on Facebook in a rather uncomfortable post that he was a born-again Christian. It still shocked Ophelia that he was a functioning adult and one who had quite a successful environmental engineering career.
Ophelia wanted to celebrate Delphine’s life, but she had an ulterior motive. She had an insatiable curiosity, and once piqued, she had a hard time letting go. Having seen and listened to a handful of true crime documentaries and podcasts, she was curious to see who showed up at Delphine’s funeral. Perhaps the killer wouldn’t be able to resist making an appearance at their victim’s funeral, so she wanted to stare down each individual person at the service.
She also researched the other named victims of the serial killer, writing all known details in her journal. Ophelia thrived on details and knowledge, and this was something she couldn’t let go of. The killer’s first victim was Daniella Devillier, an OBGYN doctor, who worked out of an office in Metairie. The next victim, Francis Sonnier, was a former Catholic priest who had been excommunicated from the Catholic Church for supporting gay rights, specifically marriage in the Catholic Church. But Ophelia couldn’t find a link among all three victims.
At least, not yet.
The sky wasovercast on the day of Delphine’s funeral. A heavy summer storm rolled in the day before, saturating the city and making everything look greener and more vibrant than normal against the gray backdrop of the sky. The church was packed with family, friends, popular New Orleans artists, socialites, and even some political figures. Ophelia spotted the mayor at one point. Ten minutes before the funeral began, all seats were taken as people crowded along the walls to pay their respects. Delphine had left a legacy, that much was evident.
Ophelia sat squished next to her Mawmaw and Jack in a pew, while Aunt Susan sat on the other side of Mawmaw. She missed her grandmother and was comforted by her presence, even if it was under unfortunate circumstances.
“Psst,” Mawmaw said quietly, leaning into Ophelia’s already crowded space. “I need you to come visit me soon.”
“I know,” said Ophelia. “It’s been too long.”
“Well, yes, it has, but—” Mawmaw extended her long pointer finger at her, indicating her seriousness “— I also want you to be the next family Traiteur.”
Ophelia’s head swiveled to Mawmaw. “Are you serious right now?” she asked in disbelief.
Mawmaw had been a Traiteur for her community since Ophelia could remember. Traiteurs are rare and hardly known these days, but at one point in Louisiana’s history, they were necessary in small communities where access to healthcare was limited. Mawmaw still practiced, even in her old age, though minimally. A cough, arthritis, and migraines. Those were easily healed or assuaged by her grandmother.
But Ophelia? A Traiteur?Mawmaw taught her and Jack tricks and gave them small tips about splinters and blisters when they were kids, but that was it. She never offered to teach more than that. And Mawmaw was so intensely guarded about what she did; she had never even taught her mother, Mawmaw’s first-born daughter, or Aunt Susan, who cared for her daily.
Ophelia had always assumed that being a practicing Catholic was one of the prerequisites to being a Traiteur. She had left the religion a long time ago, same as Jolie. Only Evangeline had managed to hold on to the faith. Ophelia’s mom and dad had tried to instill the religion in their daughters, but failed. Well, they didn’t fail; the church did.
“Yes, I’m very serious. It’s time. Pick a weekend, and let me know before your aunt drives me home today.”
Music suddenly filled the church, and Ophelia quickly whispered, “Okay, I will, but I still have a lot of questions for you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said, patting Ophelia’s hand.
The service was beautiful and a perfect celebration of Delphine’s life. Afterward, everyone gathered outside on the church steps for the second line to the burial site.
“Give your Mawmaw a hug. Susan is going to bring me home now. I’m too old to second line in these pot-holed streets.”
Ophelia embraced her grandmother and breathed in her powdery scent. “Love you, Mawmaw. I can come visit you next weekend. That work?”
“Sure does, honey. I hate that it was under these circumstances, but I’m glad we were able to talk in person. You know I can’t hear shit on the phone.”
Ophelia stifled a laugh.
“Mom! Manners, please,” chastised Aunt Susan. “Jack,” she said, turning to her son, who continued to look uninterested. “You’re supposed to come in next weekend, too. Maybe you and Ophelia can carpool.”
Jack nodded absentmindedly. “That would be great.”
She said farewell to her aunt and Jack and moved to join the second line crowd.
Surrounded by the support of her neighbors and community, Ophelia tried to look beyond them into the crowd of faces, searching for someone that didn’t sit right with her. The brass band started, and the traditional slow tune of “Nearer My God to Thee” swept through the crowd as people began to sway. Delphine’s casket was carried out of the church by her relatives. Avery was in front, and his face was…heartbroken. Grief-stricken.
