Page 58 of Girl Between

“Then it should be no surprise that I see the weaver when I look at you. Yet, it seems you face a crossroad of your own making. Don’t allow yourself to dwell too long between, child. In this world of darkness, your light is blinding. Let it guide you to the right path.”

Dana swallowed, unable to express what that statement meant to her. Marjorie squeezed her hands tightly before letting go to retrieve her poison bible. She leafed through its contents, producing a delicate gold chain with a long, slender carved bone at the end.

Returning to Dana, she slipped it around her neck, then wrapped Dana’s hand around the bone. “For protection. Don’t fight the darkness. It gives way to light, in the same way blood gives way to life. Remember that, child. And when you lose your way, know that you have my protection.” She squeezed Dana’s hands. “Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

Marjorie chanted in Haitian too rapidly for Dana to decipher. But there was no need. When she finished. She placed a kiss to Dana’s forehead, speaking plainly. “May you always find light in the darkness.”

55

George twistedoff another bottle top—his fourth of the night—and flipped it into the Saints pail on his front porch.

Who Dat?; the battle cry of his city’s beloved football team, was barely visible through the many layers of rust added by time and the briny air of the Mississippi River. The pail should’ve found its way to the curb long ago. But as one of the last things his father gave him, it held sentimental value to George.

The pail was a souvenir from the one and only Saints game George and his father had attended together. His father had filled it with sand and used it as a place to snuff out his cigars. George found it more useful as a collection vessel for his own bad habit after a hard day’s work.

It was only galvanized metal and paint, but somehow it also held an irreplaceable childhood memory that always brought a smile to George’s face. Though tonight, there was something about watching Dana add her own Abita beer caps to the mix that made it all the sweeter.

She cracked her second cold one since returning from next door and tossed it into the pail without missing a beat as she continued to regale George with every detail of the Voodoo ceremony his motherhad allowed her to attend. She also managed to polish off the entire cheese board he’d ordered from Bacchanal even after enjoying quite a few grilled plantains at the feast next door.

Watching Dana thrive amidst his Bywater lifestyle was unexpectedly endearing to George. She washed down the last of the crusty baguette and lavender goat cheese with another sip of Purple Haze and continued gushing about his family.

George would’ve thought his mother and sisters were handing out winning lottery numbers considering the level of excitement with which Dana spoke. If she’d displayed even an ounce of this exuberance next door, George knew the women in his life would never let him hear the end of it if he screwed this up.

Not that he wanted to.

George liked having Dana around. Maybe a little too much considering he liked to keep his life uncomplicated. He was sure he still had much to learn about the brilliant librarian, but one thing he knew for certain, Dr. Dana Gray had complicated sewn into every fiber of her being.

Still, against all odds, the tightly wound D.C. woman fit in here. She unwound her long legs and kicked off her borrowed sandals to press her toes onto the bare wooden floorboards of George’s front porch. She was still talking about the ceremony. Words like potomitan, lwa, and manbo dripped off her tongue like they were the most natural things in the world. And in the George family, that was mostly the case, but he’d never heard an outsider seem so genuine or comfortable with his family’s culture.

“You’re really into this Voodoo stuff, huh?” he asked.

Dana stared at him, eyes wide. “Are you not?”

He grinned, unable to hide his amusement. “It’s crossed my mind you may have been too enamored to notice I wasn’t in attendance for the ceremony tonight.”

She waved him off. “I noticed, but potomitan ceremonies are run by women.”

“As is most of my life,” he teased.

Dana set down her beer and crossed her arms, making herperfectly perky breasts even more irresistible to him. “Vincent George, don’t tell me you have a problem with feminism after being raised by those incredible women.”

He chuckled and held his hands up in surrender as he rocked back in his groaning lawn chair until it balanced precariously on two legs. “I have no problem with feminism.”

What he was having trouble with was the fact that Dana was wearing his little sister’s dress. The woman was a good deal taller than Cadie, not that it took much considering the youngest George sibling never grew an inch over the five-foot mark she reached in fifth grade. But that meant that the normally modest wrap dress Cadie had lent Dana was failing at no fault of its own.

There simply wasn’t enough material to cover all of Dana’s gorgeous skin. And considering he’d seen Cadie wearing the dress many times, it made it very confusing each time he began undressing Dana in his mind.

Oblivious to his dilemma, she continued her line of questioning. “Do you truly not celebrate your family’s Voodoo heritage?”

“I celebrate it, but if this were a normal religious conversation, I’d call myself more of a holiday parishioner.” At Dana’s frown, he continued. “You know, someone who goes to church on Christmas and Easter. I’m just not an every Sunday kinda guy.”

Dana glanced at the rusty bucket full of bottle caps. “Religious worship isn’t limited to church altars, you know?”

George chuckled. “Alright, maybe I prefer to make my offerings to the football gods.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” she said, taking another swig of her Purple Haze. “But I have to say, you’re missing out on a wealth of incredible knowledge and enlightenment by not allowing yourself to practice your family’s culture.”

George shrugged. “I have nothing against it. I’ve just never been included.”