A Darker Shade of Midnight Read Online Free Page B

nightstand. The high tech device didn’t clash with the country style décor. Curtains with a lovely old rose pattern on a cream background matched the quilt, the rug and pillow shams. An overhead cane ceiling fan looked old enough to have come from one of the plantation homes along Vermilion River. Then LaShaun saw the family photos on a round table. She left the rocker and went to it. Several pictures were sepia toned, taken before the turn of the last century. “Celie LeGrange, 1866-1932” was written at the bottom of one. Monmon Odette’s mother. Jules Paul LeGrange, husband to Celie and Monmon Odette’s father, stared stone-faced from another photo. An even older picture of a lovely woman dressed in a long dress and button top shoes sat next to it. LaShaun did not have to read the faint letters to know her. Acelie LeGrange stared at her descendant across time, two hundred years to be exact. LaShaun’s mother stared from a photo taken in 1982. She looked beautiful in a flowered sundress. Francine stood next to a five year old LaShaun. Both wore forced smiles trying hard to look happy for the camera. LaShaun didn’t remember that particular day, but she remembered her mother’s overwrought disposition. Still in love with Antoine St. Julien even five years after he married another, Francine never found happiness.  
    “I’m glad you’re home, Cher . Have   you forgiven me?”
    LaShaun looked up to find her grandmother’s dark gaze fixed on her. “I didn’t blame you for anything that happened to me, Monmon.”
    “Maybe you should have, and for your maman, too. So many mistakes and no time to fix them. But I may still have time to do some good for you.” Monmon Odette inhaled deeply causing a rattling sound deep in her chest. She breathed out slowly then closed her eyes.  
    “I made my own choices, and my own mistakes.” LaShaun blinked away tears.  
    Monmon Odette nodded without opening her eyes. “Maybe Le Bon Dieu will have mercy on this old woman.”
    “Just rest, sweet mother. I’ll take care of you, and we’ll laugh and sing Boozoo Chavis songs.”  
    “Oh yeah,” Monmon Odette murmured softly. She even hummed a bit of a zydeco tune as she drifted into sleep.  
    LaShaun crossed to the nightstand and turned off the lamp but left a nightlight on. The faint illumination cast shadows that heightened atmosphere of an eighteenth century Creole cottage.   She watched her grandmother’s chest rise and fall for a few seconds, and then tucked the quilt up closer to Monmon Odette’s chin. LaShaun moved quietly across the rug-covered hardwood to the door.
    “My lawyer will make things right Tuesday,” Monmon Odette whispered.
      “What?” LaShaun spun around.
    Monmon Odette’s head turned to the side on the pillow. She gave a contented sigh, and snuggled deeper into the covers. Seconds later she snored lightly. LaShaun could almost believe she’d imagined hearing her; except Monmon Odette wore a slight, sly smile as she slept. She resisted the urge to shake the old mischief-maker awake and get answers. Instead, she went to her bedroom. Fatigue forced her into pajamas and into bed. The sound of rushing wind lulled her to sleep. Her dreams were filled with misty swamp scenes, elusive voices, and the sense of being watched.
    The next morning LaShaun pushed back the curtains in her bedroom. Maybe the bright Louisiana sunshine could banish the uneasy sense left behind by dreams she couldn’t quite remember.   After getting dressed, she went outside to the front porch. Her grandmother sat in the sunshine, a cup of hot coffee on the table next to her. Wrapped up in a crocheted shawl, Monmon Odette smiled when she saw her.
    “Good morning, my bébé.” Monmon Odette sighed, and then picked up her cup. She sipped and sighed again. “Nothing like good coffee on a pretty morning.”
    LaShaun looked around at the magnolia and oak trees scattered around the house. “I missed the green grass. Los