"Cause that one-time's getting stronger. I can feel that, and I think Mama can too. And Mama's smart. She get her nose in this and I don't even want to think what could happen. Or if Marcus found out? Shit, girl."
Lucian shuddered under his brother's wife, "Uh-uh. It's gotta be soon. This weekend."
"Marcus don't know nothin'. He all about being a hater. He can't see nothing past his own anger."
"I know. He always been that way. And I'm countin' on that anger. We gonna turn it against him. And soon, baby girl. We can't wait no more."
"I can't wait no more," Lavinia corrected. Moving her hand down Lucian's broad belly she guided him into her waiting wetness.
33
The next morning Frank showed up at Gail's with lattes and croissants. It was a cheap bribe but it got her in the door.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I was an asshole."
Gail didn't say anything, but Frank thought it was a good sign that she plucked a croissant from the bag. She took a bite and flakes fell on the floor. Crumbs drove Frank nuts, but Gail never saw them. She seemed to be deliberately making a mess, but Frank refused the bait. Gail opened the lid off a coffee, and said, "You know, I'm still peeved. We hardly have any time together and then one of the few nights we do, you fly out of here on a broomstick."
Frank took due admonition with a small smile.
"I know. I fucked up. I'm sorry."
"And that's supposed to make it all okay?"
Instead of asking, Now who's being the asshole? Frank said, "It's over, Gail. I can't take it back. Do we stay mad or do we move on?"
Gail pouted. "I want to stay mad."
"If you were really mad," Frank wheedled, "you wouldn't be eating the food I brought."
"You're right." Gail sulked, dropping the croissant into the bag.
Frank waited a beat.
"You know you want that."
Gail cast a longing eye over the greasy paper. Plucking the croissant back out, she declared, "Fight's over. I'm right. You were an asshole. I forgive you."
Frank smiled. Seeing as she was staying, she opened the other coffee.
"Look," she sighed. "I gotta tell you something. Might make my reaction last night a little more sensible."
"Well, in case we start fighting again, can I get a kiss first?"
Frank was happy to comply, after which they took breakfast out on the balcony.
"This is pretty bizarre, and it's probably going to sound as strange to you as it does to me, but here goes."
As she had a few hours ago, Frank admitted the events of the past few weeks. She added the last visit to Marguerite and their phone conversation. When she finished, Gail asked, "Why didn't you tell me all this earlier?"
"I didn't want to worry you. You were worried enough when I told you about the Mother the first time. I figured this would just worry you more. Besides, I didn't think it was anything worth mentioning."
"You didn't find any of this rather odd?"
"Not really. I mean it is in retrospect, and all put together, but at the time I just thought it was so much coincidence. Weird coincidence, but coincidence nonetheless."
Gail sat back with her feet on the railing while Frank considered the doc had cornered the market on great legs.
"Are you telling me you're possessed?"
"No," Frank laughed. "At least I don't think so. I mean, from what I can gather, the Mother's just putting some bad vibes on me. It's like two phone lines getting crossed. Marguerite says—"
"And don't you think that's kind of odd that you just happen to hire a cop who just happens to have a wife that's a mambo priestess?"
"Ex wife. Again, in retrospect, yeah. That's one more thing that's got me thinking this isn't coincidence. That maybe there really is a pattern to this. A reason I can't understand or explain, but that it's happening nonetheless."
"Gee, you think?"
"Come on, Gay, you've got to admit it's pretty hard to swallow."
"Oh, I'm the first to admit it's bizarre. But what I find even more bizarre is that you didn't tell me about this until now. If somebody took a shot at you or stabbed you with a hunting knife, would you tell me? Am I a part of your life or not?"
"You're the best part," Frank replied without hesitation.
"Then why don't you talk to me? This all sounds pretty serious."
Frank saw Gail was hurt. She put herself in the doc's place, trying on how she'd feel if Gail was holding back on her.
"I'm sorry. You know, the main thing is, I probably didn't tell you because I didn't want to hear what you'd have to say about it. I didn't want to deal with it. I still don't, but it's looking like I don't have much choice."
Frank remembered Marguerite's dream words. She edged away from the memory, adding, "By not talking about all this I didn't have to admit how uncomfortable it makes me. I don't like dealing with stuff I can't touch or see. It's hard to fight something I don't even believe in."
Gail took Frank's hand.
"And the reason I still keep you around is because your candor, when it finally arrives, is completely disarming."
Frank acknowledged the comment with a mirthless smile. Swirling the dregs of her coffee, she admitted, "It's scary. I still don't know whether I'd rather believe this or that I'm flipping out. I was thinking I'd call Clay on Monday."
Frank had wanted to call the shrink last night, but he worked regular office hours. She continued, "He doesn't need to know about Glenda the Good Witch or the Wicked Witch of the West. I'll just outline what's been going on with me, see what he's got to say."
"It couldn't hurt. What did Glenda say about all this?"
Frank looked for derision in Gail's face, but found none. She drained her cup and sighed again.
"She told me to pray."
Frank had to go to the office. It was the center of her comfort zone and where she thought the best. She kissed Gail goodbye, making plans for an early dinner, then resigned herself to an hour in early afternoon traffic. Chin in hand, steering with her elbows, Frank reflected on Marguerite's advice.
She had told Frank she had to combat the Mother on a psychic level. When Frank had balked, Marguerite had spelled it out for her.
"Have you ever been with someone who knew what you were thinking even before you said it?"
Thinking of Noah, Frank had answered yes.
"How do you suppose that happens?"
"Shared history. Experience. Coincidence."
Coming to dislike that word, Frank had amended, "We just happen to think the same way."
"Fine. Can you include the possibility that you may have a connection deeper than that which appears on the surface? Would you be willing to consider a metaphysical explanation for why you have the same thought patterns?"
"Sure," Frank had caved. "What the hell. Why not?"
"I know I'm asking you to stretch, but remember, you called me.
Rub it in, Frank had thought.
"If you can have this unspoken bond with one person, what is there to say you couldn't have it with another?"
"Nothing, I guess."
"Exactly. And if this person is aware of that metaphysical connection, and using it, don't you think you'd be apt to feel it? Somehow?"
"I guess."
"Maybe you can understand it easier as instinct. Don't all cops have some sort of instinct?"
"Good ones. But again, that comes from experience. It's developed over time."
"When you were a rookie you never followed your instinct? You played it by the book always or did nothing?"
Frank remembered a couple good calls she'd made early on, but she also remembered some real boners.
"Look. Just tell me what I need to do. I don't have a lot of options right now, so I'm willing to follow your lead."
"Are you sure?"