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BRIDGETTE WALKED INTO the dining room and grinned as she surveyed the guests enjoying their breakfast. The young family that stayed last night looked well rested and the children’s laughter was music to her ears. She had worried about allowing children to stay the night, but then she realized that this old home had survived for many years with the squeal of laughter and pitter patter of little feet.
Looking outside, the place was starting to take shape. She had hired a local landscaper to help her with the maintenance, so the grounds looked magnificent. They worked out a fair trade; he was in desperate need of a place to stay, and the grounds were more than she could handle. When Father Bill Rabelais, from Mary Immaculate Catholic Church, approached her several months ago about Tim Doucette looking for work, she jumped on the opportunity. After talking with Tim, they came up with a proposal that helped both of them. He would stay in the old caretaker’s cottage, which was still in good shape and had electricity and running water, and would come to the house for his meals. Bridgette could not explain it, but she had not been as jumpy since having Tim stay on the property. He helped put her mind at ease.
She greeted Tim as he walked in from the kitchen, “Good morning Tim. Where are you off to today?”
“I have a new client I am meeting with in town. The developer, Marcus DuPont, is looking to hire someone to landscape some of his properties. I sure hope that is okay with you Ms. Marquette.”
She gave him a look of utter surprise, “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I know that he has pressured you an awful lot lately to purchase this place.”
She shook her head, “Don’t let that bother you none. He isn’t the only one interested in buying the plantation. I have nothing against the man.”
“I don’t want to make you mad. You have been so kind to me.”
“Think nothing of it. Did you sleep well last night?”
Tim looked at her sheepishly, “The ghosts seemed to be upset last night. I just locked my doors tight and prayed for morning light.”
“What do you mean the ghosts were upset last night? I hope you don’t think they are trying to scare you off?”
“I swear I saw lights off the bayou last night and heard some kind of scream cut through the night. You did not hear anything?”
She told him honestly, “I have grown comfortable with their haunts over the years, I guess. I sure hope they don’t scare you or any of the guests away with their mischievousness.”
“Since this is an old Louisiana plantation home, I knew that ghosts would roam the grounds. I am sure I will get accustomed to it. With regards to your guests, I suspect that most are hoping for the haunted experience, even if they do not want to come out and admit it. There is no hiding the fact that something roams around here at night.”
Bridgette hoped it was only the old ghosts roaming the grounds. There had been no recent deaths around here, yet there seemed to be more ghosts than she remembered. Still, she wondered what might be going on. She did not want to believe that it might be her parents.
AS SHE STEPPED OUTSIDE for a breath of fresh air, an uneasy feeling swept over her. She shrugged it off. She was just being silly.
She walked down to the bayou to enjoy the brief solitude. When her ancestors built the plantation, they took full advantage of not only the bayou, but the breezes that rolled off of it. She looked around as she absorbed the history. Over the years, her family made sure not to change the plantation, even when modernizing the old home. Even though a central air conditioning unit with heat was added, on mornings like this, all the French doors could still be opened to allow the breeze to blow in.
She was pleased with her decision to open Marquette Plantation Bed & Breakfast. She never expected it would be this popular right off. So far, it had been a tremendous success. The historical society had helped her with the tiny details and word of mouth kept the rooms full.
As she walked back to the house, a darkness seemed to fall over the area. She looked up to see that a dark cloud blocked the sun. As she looked at the plantation, it appeared to be covered in a fine mist. She stopped for a moment, unsure of what she was seeing. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure surface in the mist.
As a breeze blew in off the bayou, an odd feeling came over her that something was askew here. She shook off the feeling. She was reading too much into what Tim told her earlier was all. The ghosts here were not restless. Nothing was amiss.
Vidrine’s, Bridgette’s grand-mere, haunting words echoed in her mind once more. The world was filled with ghosts. Some were trapped on this earth by events that were cataclysmic, either tragic or sometimes joyous. It could be that these spirits could not, or refused to, leave because of what happened to them or they must do something before moving on.
Vidrine lived in New Orleans and was a big believer in voodoo and its mysterious powers. She believed that there was not any difference between her believing in voodoo and her parents believing in their Catholic religion. Bridgette’s mom grew up with strong beliefs from both grand-meres and kept those same beliefs. When Bridgette’s mom met her dad, she fell madly in love and converted to Catholicism for him. Her mom kept her strong Catholic beliefs, but voodoo also held a place in her heart from her childhood, so she passed those beliefs on to Bridgette.
Where in the Catholic religion they believed in the devil, in voodoo they had a spirit that controlled the malevolent spirits of the night. That spirit was known as Kalfu.
Voodoo had been given a bad name by some who had evil intents. That was not voodoo, but those who wished to practice black magic. Voodoo was intended to be a positive teaching of life and nature. In the voodoo belief, you could call the spirits, like saints, who would come and help with your problems.
Bridgette closed her eyes and saw her grand-mere standing in front of her. There was always something special about her appearance. She had one of the kindest faces Bridgette ever saw. Her hair was gray and had been since an early age, but she never once considered coloring it. She said she was proud of each and every strand.
Growing up, Bridgette could remember walking into her grand-mere’s house and seeing all the exquisite artwork and fascinating trinkets. There were Gris Gris bags, potions, and oils that she used. She had several statues, mainly of saints, as well as a skull mask and a few African tribal pieces. There was even a voodoo altar set up in her house. She was well known for her handmade voodoo dolls.
Lately, she had contemplated finding someone to perform a banishing spell on the house for any evil spirits that may be lurking about. She did not want to banish the spirits of her ancestors, but she was fairly certain that a new presence lurked about; one that was evil. If performed correctly, the banishing spell would help the ghosts she wanted to move on and find some peace so that they would leave. Her grand-mere always warned of the importance of doing the spell right because it could be very dangerous if done incorrectly.
As she walked back inside the house, the buzz of chatter from her guests filled the entryway. Several more of her guests were in the dining room and front parlor, ready to begin their day. Delores outdid herself this morning on the buffet; a variety of muffins were available as well as scrambled eggs, grits, and her homemade biscuits. Bridgette chose a blueberry streusel muffin and a cup of coffee. This may be her only chance to eat a quick bite before tending to her guests and offering tours.
A young woman was coming to interview for a front desk position in the afternoons so that Bridgette could have a little time to herself. If Marquette Plantation Bed & Breakfast stayed booked, she might also look into hiring a chef. So far, she and Delores had done well at keeping up with the demand, but she detested imposing on Delores.
AFTER HER BATH, BRIDGETTE slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. A chill had settled in the room and she wanted something warm to wear.
She plopped down in the overstuffed chair that she had arranged in the corner of the room and sighed. Doubts about making the B&B a success plagued her mind. The ghosts were more restless of late. She could not explain why there were so many new ghosts.
She could not explain it, but there seemed to be a strange energy in the house now. Almost as if there was an eerie presence nearby. From the corner of her room, a movement caught her attention. A shadowy figure stepped from the corner, gliding in her direction. From the shape, it appeared to be a woman. It appeared cloudy, but definitely a woman. Her features were not completely distinguishable, but she had a shape. The wall was visible through her.
A glowing aura surrounded her. "It's so cold... So, so cold."
Bridgette's mouth opened, but she remained speechless. She stared at the form in silence. What did she want?
The woman slowly lifted her arm and pointed towards the bayou.
Silence enveloped the room; the only noise heard was the thump of Bridgette's excited heart. She panted, trying to catch her breath. She sat there, transfixed.
The image once again spoke. "Please, please help me. I am so cold."
Bridgette asked, "How? How can I help you?"
Instead of answering, the ghostly woman let out a loud wail and dissipated.