Miri is out cold. Grandma and Mom are ashen and weak after the expulsion of Eleanora. And the rain has yet to let up. Feeble thunder followed by streaks of light occasionally cracks across the night sky. Not to mention, it’s cold. Damn cold. Walking back from the St. Louis cemetery is out of the question.
We make our way out the northern side of the graveyard and find partial shelter beneath one of the large trees lining the street. It feels like hours, wet, cold, and shivering, waiting for Michael. It’s likely more like forty minutes or something.
Grandma and Mom squeeze into the front seat beside my brother. It’s a tight fit. But so is the back seat, with my coven, myself, and Luna’s mom fitting five into a three-person spacing. The five of us cradle Miri in our laps. By the time we arrive home, she begins to stir.
“Worst bridal-shower-slash-bachelorette-party ever.” She crawls from the back seat and rubs her head. “Let’s never talk of this again.” She climbs the steps to the house. Luna and her mom, James and Jeanna follow her inside.
Michael and I help Grandma and Mom up the stairs and through the door.
Miri waits for us just inside the door, holding Phillip’s unopened letter to her chest. “I hope you don’t think me a party pooper, but I am going to head upstairs, enjoy a hot shower, and indulge in some positive, uplifting words.” She taps the letter to her heart.
“Of course. You do what you need to do,” I say.
“Come here.” She motions everyone into a circle around her and squeezes us into a group hug. “Thank you, all of you, for standing up against the ancestral power and pulling me back to myself. That’s a gift that goes far beyond…” She sighs. “It will remain with me always.”
Hugs and kisses, encouraging whispers, and Miri leaves the group. Michael and I help Grandma to her room and then stand with Luna at the large picture window, staring out at the street, while we wait for Mom and Mrs. Flores to freshen up for the drive home.
Jeanna, James, Luna, and I are wrapped in oversized towels, dabbing and rubbing at our wet clothing.
On the street beyond, the rain dwindles to a drizzle and the street lights cast a lovely glow across the damp asphalt.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” James mumbles about the bokor. “Wonder what this means for my brother?”
“He’ll be better for the change,” Michael says, and I nod. We’ll all be better for the change… as long as somebody worse doesn’t take Chuks's place.
“And my parents,” Luna says. Glances toward the back bathroom. “My mom is so much better. The change was practically instantaneous.”
“Some spells work that way when broken.” Michael nods at the quiet world outside the family home. Sighs. “In a little over thirty-six hours, we’ll be reconvening for Miri and Phillip’s wedding. They only get one take on the run of that day. I suggest you take this evening to let this new reality sink in, and then turn your focus toward making their day nothing but positive vibes for a blessed future.
“Of course.” The agreement is a chorus of responses from everyone, me, Luna, Jeanna, and James.
When Mom and Mrs. Flores reappear, slightly dryer, Michael drives Luna and her mom home, and James, Jeanna, and I pile in the car with my mom, head back to Algiers. Sleep a lot.
The next day gets lost to laziness and wedding preparations. Come Saturday morning, the sky is clear, the moon is full, and the energy is clean, buzzing. The change in weather allows for the wedding to take place in the courtyard, rather than the cramped front room. Outdoor heaters line the space and chairs are set in crisp lines, facing the large water fountain. Grandma has been exceptionally weak since the events of the bridal shower, so Michael ushers her to an early seat at the front. She sits across the aisle from Phillip’s dad, Miri’s soon-to-be father-in-law, Mr. Tillman. He glances, ever-slightly, in her direction.
The few guests that were invited have all arrived and now wait patiently for the bride to walk down the aisle. Mom, Michael, Miri, Luna, and I are stationed near the back door, awaiting our cue.
“You look stunning,” Luna whispers at my ear and delivers a soft, somewhat timid kiss.
“No one will be able to look at anything but you,” Mom says to Miri while fussing over my sister’s hair.
“I will,” Luna says softly. “I’ll be looking at you.”
“And I you,” I reply.
“Phillip’s breath is bound to be knocked clear from his chest,” Mom continues, stepping back to admire her work. “Pure perfection.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Miri says.
Mom kisses Miri’s cheek. “See you out there.” She rushes to take her front row seat.
“Guess that’s my cue,” Luna adds and follows my mom to the collection of arranged chairs.
“This is it,” I say. “Last chance to back out of the whole thing.”
“Not going to happen.” Miri smiles, and when she does, her entire essence glows. “There is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with Phillip. And this day…” She glances toward the ceiling as if she could see through the layers of wood, brick, and mortar. “It’s like the sunshine after the battle. A sign for a bright future. What more could I ask for?”
“A million dollars?” I say and shrug.
“What is a million dollars compared to a family that would put their lives on the line to save mine?” She grabs my hand and squeezes. The blessed beads I gifted her, used to help save her, are wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. Beads dangle and clang against one another.
“You’re right, of course,” I say. “You’re rich in ways others could only wish for… dream about.”
“You bet I am.” She hugs
