Little Gale Gumbo by Erika Marks Page A

Dahl?”
    â€œIt’s short for Dahlia,” Josie said, walking toward them.
    â€œDahlia.” Matthew frowned, hardly satisfied. “What kind of name is that?”
    Ben appeared in the doorway then, a woman at his side.
    â€œMatthew, this is Mrs. Camille Bergeron. I was just giving her a tour of the house. She and her daughters will be living with us now.”
    Matthew glanced to Dahlia, her smug smile unbearable.
    Beside her, Josie beamed.
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    â€œWhat are they doing here, anyway?” Matthew demanded later that night, keeping his father company on the kitchen floor while Ben finished the repair he’d been pulled away from that morning. “And where’s their father? Why isn’t he here too?”
    â€œI have no idea,” Ben said, crawling deeper under the sink, “but it’s none of our business. Hand me the wrench.”
    Matthew picked the wrench out of the toolbox beside him and pressed it into his father’s outstretched fingers. “The older one thinks she’s smarter than everyone else.”
    Ben grinned as he widened the mouth of the wrench. “Maybe she is.”
    â€œI suppose they’re going to want to go to school, huh?”
    â€œWell, of course. Raise the light a little bit, will you?”
    Matthew repointed the flashlight into the cabinet, frowning at his father’s outstretched legs, the scuffed bottoms of his shoes.
    â€œThey’re really different, aren’t they, Pop?”
    â€œMaybe so,” Ben said quietly, smiling as he twisted the wrench around the stubborn joint. “Maybe so.”
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    Camille dropped the rag into the bucket and looked out onto the gleaming floors of her new living room. She smiled, pleased. It was a good start, but if she intended to work spells in their new home, she’d need more than just the protection of a salt-and-pepper floor wash. The space would need to be cleared out and made sacred. There was no telling what sort of negative energy might still live in these walls.
    She turned to the bedroom door. It was as good a time as any, she decided, as she collected the last of her tools from the kitchen and lit a pair of white candles. For years Josie had been begging to learn the spells, and for years Camille had gently deferred her daughter’s fervent requests, knowing how much Charles detested Voodoo, and knowing the wrath she’d face for sharing her beliefs. But no more. From now on she would do as she pleased. From now on her daughter would learn to protect herself as Camille had learned from her mother.
    She came into the bedroom and gently woke Josie. Her younger daughter stirred, blinking in a confused panic, her cheeks rosy from sleep.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Momma?”
    â€œNothing’s wrong, baby girl,” Camille whispered, smoothing the tangled hair out of Josie’s face and taking her small hand. “I just need your help, that’s all. Careful walking; the floor’s slick.”
    Josie squinted through the candlelight as she followed her mother into the living room, but as soon as she saw the sage bundle and the bottle of Florida water on the table, Josie’s bleary eyes widened, suddenly alert.
    Camille picked up a book of matches. “Since it’s our first night in our new house, I thought it was the perfect time for a cleansing.”
    Josie looked back to the bedroom. “What about Dahlia?” she asked.
    Camille smiled. “Don’t worry about your sister. She’ll have her chance.”
    Josie nodded, but they both knew that day wasn’t likely; Dahlia had no patience for Voodoo.
    â€œNow, first we light the sage.”
    Josie watched, enthralled, as her mother held up the herb bundle and lit it, the leaves crackling as they burned. After a moment, Camille blew out the flame. The tip smoked, a luxurious silver ribbon.
    She carried the bundle into the kitchen doorway, making circles with the smoke.
    â€œThe first