Sighing, I gave that some thought. “I don’t think I can give that an unbiased answer. I’d like to think I’m not manipulated.” I turned to her. “No, he hasn’t manipulated me. He’s informed me. He was the person who explained who I really am and my role in New Orleans.”
“What did he say?”
“That I was to marry him and rule with him.”
“With him?”
“Beside him, Mother.”
“And you feel he was honest about that? He wants your input?”
My mind filled with instances where my input had been welcomed and other times when it wasn’t met as fondly. “I think he’ll listen. When we’re together and alone, he will listen.”
“And you think you have a voice, or is it part of the manipulation, him only letting you think you do?”
I rose to my feet and stood at the railing on the edge of the porch. The pitch darkness seemed to go on forever. Without turning, I asked, “Are you trying to say you don’t think I have a voice?”
“Emma, my experience is very limited with what goes on between a husband and wife. I’ve never married. You said you willingly married him and that now you think you love him.”
I spun toward her. “I do love him. I don’tthinkI do. I know I do.” A day ago or maybe even hours ago, I might have been surprised by the conviction I heard in my own voice, not now. I knew I meant every word. “And I have a voice. Rett listens even when he doesn’t want to.” A smile came to my lips as I recalled our dinner in the conservatory and opening his gift of a key.
Wrapping the blanket around me, I sat again in the chair.
Jezebel reached over to my hand and covered it. “You are...” She didn’t finish her sentence.
“I can’t imagine what you think of me. I’m not Kyle and I’m not you. I honestly don’t know what you expected to find.”
Taking her hand back, Jezebel laid her head against the back of the chair and rocked, the runners of the chair clicking on the wood floor of the porch. “Emma, I’ve thought a lot about you since before you were born. Life has taught me not to make assumptions or snap decisions. As I said, I’ve also watched you and tried to protect you.”
“When did you go to Pittsburgh?”
Jezebel exhaled and continued rocking her chair back and forth. “After I gave you to Mr. Michelson, I made myself stay away from you and Kyle until I couldn’t. The first time I traveled to North Carolina, I believe you were five. Since then, I’ve gone where you and he were whenever it was right.”
My mind wasn’t computing her entire sentence. “Mr. Michelson?”
“Yes, he was the young attorney who helped me with your birth certificates and placement. He found the O’Briens and made sure they would raise you both with the stipulation you were two different ages.”
“The same man who is now a prosecutor for Louisiana?”
She turned my way. “I’m surprised you know that. Yes, that’s him.”
“He questioned me today” —I looked out at the darkness— “or yesterday.” Before Jezebel could answer, I added, “When Kyle and I were very young, we lived in Tennessee. I don’t remember any of that. When I was four...” I realized I’d need to do that math again. “...anyway, before we started school, we moved to North Carolina. Because of college, I moved to Pittsburgh. After everyone died, I decided to stay there.”
“The O’Briens understood the threat of danger to both of you. It was difficult for them to pretend you were eight months apart when you were babies. That’s why they had to move later.” She sighed. “They were good people. They gave up their family and friends to keep you safe.”
“Wait? We had family?”
“Yes, you have me.”
My head shook. “No, I’m talking about the O’Briens. I had this memory of grandparents, but I thought it was something that I concocted in my young mind. Because once I really had memories of my childhood in our home in North Carolina, we didn’t have any extended family.”
“Marcella’s parents are still alive. I believe Oliver has a brother.”
I laid my head against the wooden chair. “I didn’t contact them. They don’t know what happened to their family.” I turned to Jezebel. “How do you know this?”
“I listen to the spirits and pay attention.”
“Did you...?” I thought for a moment, wondering how to phrase my question. “Were you involved...? Are they really gone?”