invulnerable, protected by the years we were promised at birth. We wore our youth like a shield. We could get sick, very sick; we could have accidents, even serious ones, or we could be bitten by poisonous things, but somehow, someway there was always something that would save us.
The sight of that little boy, pale and gray, his hair stuck on his forehead, his little fingers clenched into tiny fists, his eyes sewn shut, and his lips blue was a sight that haunted me for years afterward.
All I could think of now was Martin's impish smile when he had pulled away from the curb. What if I had gotten into the car with them, I wondered? Would I be in some hospital emergency room or would I have prevailed and gotten Martin to slow down and drive more carefully?
Fate . . . as I had told Paul in my letter . . . could not be defeated or denied.
Daphne returned first, her face full of agony and emotional fatigue.
'How is she?' I asked, my heart thumping.
'She's regained consciousness, but something is wrong with her spine,' she said in a dead, dry tone. She was even paler and held her right palm over her heart.
'What do you mean?' I asked, my voice cracking.
'She can't move her legs,' Daphne said. 'We're going to have an invalid in the family. Wheelchairs and nurses,' she said, grimacing. 'Oh, I feel sick,' she added quickly. 'I'm going to the bathroom. See to your father,' she commanded with a wave of her hand.
I looked across the hallway and saw him looking like someone who had been hit by a train. He was standing with the doctor. His back was against the wall and his head was down. The doctor patted him on the shoulder and then walked off, but Daddy didn't move. I rose slowly and started toward him. He raised his head as I approached, the tears streaming from his eyes, his lips quivering.
'My little girl,' he said, 'my princess . . . is probably going to be crippled for life.'
'Oh, Daddy,' I shook my head, my own tears rivaling his in quantity now. I rushed to him and embraced him and he buried his face in my hair and sobbed.
'It's my fault,' he sobbed. 'I'm still being punished for the things I've done.'
'Oh, no, Daddy. It's not your fault.'
'It is. It is,' he insisted. 'I'll never be forgiven, never. Everyone I love will suffer.'
As we clung to each other tightly, all I could think was . . . this is definitely not his fault. It was my fault . . . my fault. I've got to get Nina to take me back to Mama Dede. I've got to undo the spell.
Daphne and I returned home first. By now, it seemed like half the city had heard of the accident. The phones were ringing off the hook. Daphne went directly up to her suite, telling Edgar to take down the names of those who called, explaining that she wasn't able to speak to anyone just yet. Daddy was even worse, immediately retreating to Uncle Jean's room the moment he stepped through the door. I had a message that Beau had called and I called him back before I went to see Nina.
'I can't believe it,' he said, trying to hold back his tears. 'I can't believe Martin's dead.'
I told him what had happened earlier, how they had approached me on the way home.
'He knew better; he knew you couldn't drive and smoke that stuff or drink.'
'Knowing is one thing. Listening to wisdom and obeying it is another,' I said dryly.
'Things must be terrible at your house, huh?'
'Yes, Beau.'
'My parents will be over to see Daphne and Pierre tonight, I'm sure. I might come along, if they let me,' he said.
'I might not be here.'
'Where are you going tonight?' he asked, astonished. 'There's someone I have to see.'
'Oh.'
'It's not another boy, Beau,' I said quickly, hearing the disappointment in his voice.
'Well, they probably won't let me come anyway,' he said. 'I'm feeling sick to my stomach, myself. If I hadn't had baseball practice . . . I would probably have been in that car.'
'Fate just didn't point its long, dark finger at you,' I told him.
After we spoke I went to find Nina. She, Edgar, and Wendy were consoling each other in the kitchen. As soon as she lifted her eyes and met mine, she knew why I had come.
'This is not your fault, child,' she said. 'Those who welcome the devil man into their hearts invite the bad gris- gris themselves.'
'I want to see Mama Dede, Nina. Right away,' I added. She looked at Wendy and Edgar.
'She won't tell you any different,' she said.
'I want to see her, Nina,' I insisted. 'Take me to her,' I ordered. She sighed and nodded slowly.
'If the madame or monsieur want something, get it to them,' Wendy promised. Nina rose and got her pocketbook. Then we hurried out of the house and met the first streetcar. When we arrived at Mama Dede's, her mother seemed to know why. She and Nina exchanged knowing looks. Once in, we waited in the living room for the voodoo queen to enter. I couldn't take my eyes off the box I knew contained the snake and Gisselle's ribbon.
Mama Dede made her entrance as the drums began. As before, she went to the settee and turned her gray eyes toward me.
