“You’ve never really talked much about your marriage or your ex-husband,” he commented. “Actually, I think you’ve mentioned him once.”
I bit my lip, not exactly happy at where this conversation was headed, but I could understand why it needed to come out, all the same. Ryan clearly wanted to know more about me, and my marriage was something that had defined me for the last five years. “I generally try to avoid talking or thinking about him,” I answered honestly.
Ryan nodded. “If it’s painful, we can drop the subject.”
I reminded myself what this conversation really was—a way for Ryan to get closer to me, to learn my background, in order to understand me. “No, we can talk about it,” I answered quickly, even though there was a part of me that definitely didn’t want to. “What would you like to know?”
“Did you leave him?”
I nodded. “Yes, but I took way too long to do it.”
He took another sip of his Jameson. “Why did you wait so long?”
“That’s the twenty-million-dollar question,” I answered as I took a deep breath and slowly released it, taking a sip of my sour before facing him again. “I don’t really know. I guess he just had a way of zapping my self-confidence.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “Jonathon is a very wealthy lawyer, and his public image always has and always will mean more to him than anything else. I think he considered me to be a good move where his image was concerned.”
“Why?” Ryan asked.
“He is all about community service—showing the public that he cares in order to woo big clients, blah blah blah. Everything Jonathon ever did had to benefit him in some way.” I dropped my gaze to my amaretto sour because I wasn’t exactly thrilled admitting this next part. “When he met me, I was a mess.”
“A mess?” Ryan scoffed, as if the thought were completely ridiculous to him.
I glanced up at him and nodded, sighing. “I was living with a friend who was a drug addict.” I watched his eyes go wide just like I knew they would. “So, as you can imagine, my life started to spiral out of control.”
“But you were in college, studying history?” Ryan asked, his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“Yes, I was…Let’s just say it wasn’t easy to balance school life with a robust partying life.”
“Were you an addict too?”
“I came close but something always held me back. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I dabbled, but no, I wouldn’t say I was an addict.” I took a sip of my drink and wondered if all I was doing was scaring perfect Ryan Kelly away. Well, the cat was way out of the bag now, so there was no going back.
“So?”
“So I met Jonathon while I was working part-time as a cocktail waitress in this hoity-toity club in Los Angeles,” I said with a strange little laugh. “He immediately knew that I was going nowhere, that I was a mess and in need of direction. So he recognized his opportunity.”
“I don’t understand,” Ryan said while shaking his head.
“What better form of public service than to rehabilitate some poor, hopeless girl and then marry her? All his clients, the press—they ate it up. It was like this fairy-tale, rags-to-riches story, and of course, he’s the one who came out on top!”
Ryan frowned. “You think he married you as a career move?”
“I know he did.” I took another sip of my drink. “And I was the model wife for a while because I believed his charade just like everyone else did. Until one day it dawned on me that I was living a completely inauthentic life and I’d lost myself in the process.”
“Lost yourself?” Ryan repeated.
“Yeah,” I said and nodded. “It’s a very strange thing when you wake up one day and realize you aren’t the person you thought you were.”
“What sort of person did you used to be?”
I started to answer the question but then closed my mouth as I realized the answer wouldn’t come quite so easily. Instead, I pondered it for a few seconds before responding. “I used to be fun,” I finally said. “I used to be carefree, outgoing, and spontaneous. I was up for anything.”
“And you weren’t up for anything when you were married?” Ryan asked.
I shook my head. “It was like that part of me died, like I just became this automaton to Jonathon. I was like this yes-man, or woman, who basically did whatever he told me to. And then once I realized I’d become his puppet, I decided to try to be myself but that didn’t go over well because Jonathon didn’t like anything other than the Stepford Wife Peyton.”
“So why did you stay so long?”
I cocked my head to the side as I pondered the question. “I guess I stayed because I was too afraid to leave.”
“You don’t seem lackin’ in self-confidence to me,” Ryan answered as he continued to study me, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. It was pretty clear that he didn’t like what I was saying.
I nodded. “I’m a different person now than I used to be.” I focused on my amaretto sour and pushed each of the ice cubes down with my straw before I looked back up at Ryan.
“I like the person you are now,” he said softly. “In fact, I like her a lot.” He was quiet for a few seconds as he studied me. “I don’t see anythin’ Stepford in you at all. You’re strong, capable, funny, charmin’, sweet, and you’re beautiful.”
I could feel myself beaming as tears suddenly threatened my eyes. I glanced down at my drink and blinked them away. I just felt so incredibly close to Ryan, grateful to him because he accepted me for who I was. I looked up at him again and smiled. “It’s funny to say, but I feel like I’m home here, you know? I’m happier now than I’ve been in a very long time.”
“Glad to hear it,” he answered, holding up his glass with a broad grin. “To Peyton findin’ herself…and me in the process.”
I smiled and clinked my glass on his. “Cheers.”
When we found ourselves back at my house, I couldn’t help wishing we were still at dinner. It was just so easy to enjoy Ryan’s company. We talked, joked, and laughed as if we’d known each other all our lives. The drive to my house was a fairly informative one, with Ryan pointing out various homes he’d renovated, along with the homes of the rich and famous. We parked alongside the crumbling curb and Ryan was quick on his feet to open my door for me, ever the gentleman. He held my arm as we walked up the pathway, and I couldn’t deny how good it felt to have him so attentive, not to mention so close to me.
As soon as I unlocked my front door, the contrast in ambiance between the ethereal airiness of Antoine’s restaurant and the darkness of my house wasn’t lost on me. The brightness, soft chit-chat of guests, and coziness of the restaurant starkly accentuated the empty, gloomy foyer that loomed before us. I wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of my mind, but it seemed like there was also a shadowy, ominous feeling to the walls and the broad expanse of aged walnut floors.
“So, do you know what we’re supposed to do for this cleansin’?” Ryan asked as he closed the door behind us.
Glancing at him over my shoulder, I frowned. “Nope, but the girl at the store said the directions were in the bag.”
“Why doesn’t that leave me with much confidence?” Ryan grumbled as I nodded with a small, nervous laugh. Crossing the threshold into my house, my nerves went on high alert. Even though there wasn’t any proof that anything malevolent, or anything at all, really, had contacted Trina and me during the Ouija board experiment, the air felt heavy. And I also couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched—and not just by the nosy Drake. No, this was a feeling that left me frightened. It just seemed as though the house was hiding its own secrets. The more I thought about it, the more it freaked me out.
“You good, Peyton?” Ryan asked, visible concern in his warm eyes.
I nodded immediately, trying to prevent him from getting a whiff of my overactive imagination, which was definitely running away from me. I reached inside my purse and produced the small black ritu
al bag, which was about the size of my palm. Untying the black satin ribbon, I took a seat on the floor, tucking my legs to the side so as not to appear unladylike in my dress.
“This house is so dusty, you’re gonna ruin your dress,” Ryan pointed out as he sat alongside me. I waved away his concern, and emptied the contents of the bag on the dark wood floors. There were three sacks of flower petals and herbs, another sack filled with what looked like bath salts, another with three stones or gems, a bag with a crystal in it, and finally, a plastic ziplock bag with what appeared to be sage inside. There were two more empty velvet sacks, along with a black candle that was maybe the length and width of my middle finger.
“Directions, directions,” I mumbled absentmindedly as I fumbled with the wrinkled piece of paper. The print was so tiny, it was nearly illegible. As I brought the inscrutable instructions to my eyes, the sound of the door opening on its own caused Ryan and me to turn around immediately. I wasn’t sure about Ryan, but the creaking sound caused my heart to leap into my throat. I even dropped the instructions as I brought my hand to my chest in an attempt to quiet my suddenly pounding heart.
“Sorry I’m late!” Trina called out, closing the door behind her and hurrying toward us. She had a red backpack over one of her shoulders and an apologetic smile on her pretty face.
“Trina?” Ryan and I asked at the same time, both of us clearly at a loss as to why she was here, although I had to admit that seeing her was a huge relief. I was worried that our visitor might have been someone or something less welcomed.
Trina nodded, a stray lock of golden hair falling into her face. She secured it back into her ponytail and walked closer to us. “I tried to get here as quickly as I could to help banish the spirit, since you both clearly have no idea what’s going on.” She speared both of us with a pointed expression before dropping her backpack beside Ryan and taking a seat between us. Ryan cleared his throat as if to say he’d prefer her take a seat elsewhere, but Trina didn’t seem to notice. She methodically unzipped her backpack and began rummaging through it.
“First we must clear the space with a prayer to Saint Joseph,” she announced matter-of-factly. She pulled out a few ziplock bags, which were stuffed to splitting with what looked like dried flower petals and rosemary. “This prayer is for protection,” she added, focusing her attention on me. Opening her mouth, she was about to deliver her protection prayer to Saint Joseph when Ryan interrupted her.
“Trina, what are you doin’ here?” he asked, his eyebrows bunched together in obvious puzzlement. “Peyton and I were on a date, you know?”
“Yes, I’m aware you were on a date,” she started, fixing him with an exact replica of the frown he was giving her. “Which is why I didn’t show up at Antoine’s. But now your date is over, and we need to deal with more important things.”
I couldn’t stifle a slight giggle as I watched Ryan continue to frown at her. She, meanwhile, elbowed him playfully. “Come on, big brother, you’re neighbors…there’ll be plenty of time to steal sweet kisses later.” Then, eyeing me, she winked. “Just call me your friendly chaperone.”
I laughed again and Ryan shook his head, but there was a definite smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Okay, so get the show on the road,” he mumbled.
She frowned at him. “An’ y’all are welcome, by the way.”
“For what?” Ryan demanded.
“For my showin’ up here tonight! I mean, hello, it’s more than a little obvious that neither one of you has any idea how to rid Peyton’s house of ghostly energy. I figured it was my responsibility as a voodoo practitioner to render my skills.”
Ryan chuckled and shook his head again. “A voodoo practitioner, Trina? Since when?”
“Since a couple of months ago, nosy,” she replied before skewering him with a big frown and clearing her throat.
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be a repeat of the Ouija board incident, which was to blame if anything malevolent really had crossed over.
“Gracious Saint Joseph,” Trina said out loud before giving us a narrow-eyed expression that inferred we should be grateful she’d arrived to help us. “Protect me and my family from evil as you did the holy family. Keep us ever united in the love of Christ, ever fervent in the imitation of the virtue of our Blessed Lady, your sinless spouse, and faithful in devotion to you. Amen.”
“Amen,” Ryan repeated. Assuming I was supposed to participate, I responded in kind.
Apparently satisfied, Trina reached into her backpack again and produced what looked like two bricks of charcoal. She placed them in front of her while eyeing the sage from my Dark Moon ritual bag and pointing to it. I handed it to her and watched as she opened the bag and placed the sage on top of the two charcoal briquettes. She then pulled a lighter from her backpack and lit the sage.
“The sage purifies the air,” Trina explained. “It’s used for protection, cleansin’, and blessin’.”
Reaching inside her backpack yet again, she produced a white candle. She held it in one hand while she dug inside the small pocket on the front of her backpack. She produced a tiny vial with what looked like yellow oil inside of it. Pulling off the top of the vial, she placed a few drops of the oil on her palm and also coated her fingertips. Then she gripped the candle and started anointing it upward, from its middle, while she closed her eyes and chanted something. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, placed a few more drops of oil in her palm, and started working the candle from the middle downward. When she was finished rubbing oil all over the candle, she opened her eyes again and inspected what remained of my Dark Moon ritual bag. She spread it out on the floor and pointed to the bag of herbs and flower petals closest to me. I handed them to her and watched as she unwrapped the satin ribbon from each gossamer bag. She examined the contents with little interest before turning up her nose and reaching for the ziplocked bags that she’d brought with her. I could only guess what they were filled with.
Rummaging through her backpack again, she pulled out a mortar and pestle, placing them at her feet. Then she turned her attention to the bags before her, opening three of them and extracting a pinchful from each. She placed each pinchful into the mortar and, using the pestle, ground the contents into a fine powder. She then sifted about a tablespoon of the powder into her palm and picked up the candle. She rolled the candle in the fine dust, being careful to ensure that it was thoroughly covered.
“I just dressed the candle with Curse Reversal oil,” she announced to the room. “Then I rolled it in a mix of cedar, bay, and eucalyptus leaves; garlic powder; lilac petals; and mint leaves. All aid in protection as well as releasin’ negative energy and bad spirits.” She pulled the two charcoal bricks apart and wedged the white candle between them so it would stand up, before reaching back inside her backpack and producing a black candle. Just then, she spotted mine and waved at it. “I need that.”
I said nothing but dutifully retrieved it for her. I watched her pop it in place next to the white one. Then she lit both and looked up at me. “The white candle is for purity and cleansin’. The black candle is for removin’ evil and for protection.”
She eyed my bag of tricks again and motioned for the small, sheer bag that held three stones or gems. I handed her the bag and she removed the stones, studying each one before closing her eyes. Chanting something only known to her, she then deposited each gem beside the candles. “Amethyst, petrified wood, and quartz crystal—all for protection.” She reached inside her backpack and produced a piece of jade, which she lined up next to the other three. “And jade, since the House of Voodoo is too cheap to include it.”
Ryan and I laughed before she gave us a discouraging look, which made us immediately go silent. Reaching inside her backpack again, she took out what looked a pair of the swamp man’s feet.
“Good Lord, Trina, what in the hell are those?” Ryan roared as he stared at his sister with a mixture of interest and offense.
&
nbsp; “Alligator feet,” she answered noncommittally. “For good luck and protection.”
“Gross,” I muttered. Ryan continued frowning at the ugly, webbed, and shriveled-up things, but Trina ignored us, placing the alligator feet alongside her other odds and ends.
Then she started reciting Psalm 23, after first informing us that it would serve as a blessing for my home. “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothin’.”
After she finished, she checked the candles to make sure they were still burning, and continued. “Now for the hefty stuff…the demon-purgin’ and exorcism of evil spirits,” she continued. All we were missing was a drumroll to aid in the unveiling. She started reading Psalm 29, followed by Psalm 10, then 19. When I thought she was going to take a breather, she burst into Psalm 40.
Neither Ryan nor I said a word. We just sat there and listened to Trina as she repeated the Bible passages. She only stopped after both of the candles burned out. Pulling out a brown paper bag from her backpack, she placed the remains of the burnt candles into it. She folded the paper bag, put it in her backpack, faced both of us again with a big smile, and clapped her hands together.
“Voilà! Your house is cleansed!”
“That’s it?” I asked, frowning skeptically as I glanced over at Ryan in question. He simply shrugged.
“Well, I’ve gotta deposit those candle remains at a crossroads, but other than that…Yeah, that’s it,” Trina said with another big smile as she started to collect her things and put them all into her backpack. She eyed the remains of my Dark Moon ritual bag and faced me with a sweet smile. “Are you goin’ to keep that stuff? Or could I have it?”
“Take it,” I answered quickly, figuring there wasn’t anything more I could do with it.
The day finally came that I moved back into my house, or more specifically, the guest bedroom and bathroom on the first floor; but it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Yes, I was very excited to be out of the Omni hotel and back into my own personal space, but I was also apprehensive. How could I be sure that all that negative spiritual energy was properly purified from my house? I had to admit I wasn’t entirely convinced about the efficacy where Trina’s voodoo skills were concerned…