Free Color Blind by Sheila; Sobel

bag? I looked at the clock; I had plenty of time.
    Bag it is.

Chapter Thirteen
    Outside, the wind was howling, tree branches scratching at the windows. Inside, the curtains flapped as if trying to escape the windy assault. The house squeaked and groaned under the weight of the powerful wind.
Did I lock the front door? The back door? Did I even unlock the back door when I came home? I don’t remember.
I was reasonably sure I closed all of the windows downstairs and had locked all of the doors. Lights were on, everything was locked up tight; all was secure. That didn’t stop me from wishing I had Gumbo, or a dog like him, to keep me company. I hoped the thunderstorm would pass us by; I couldn’t bear to close my window again.
    I stared at the armoire.
I can do this, I know I can. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
I threw open the doors, yanked out the bag, and dumped the contents onto the bed. There were books, black candles, incense cones with a burner and a tiny brown bottle of oil. There was also a beautiful red and black gauzy scarf. Underneath it all was another Voodoo doll and a gris-gris bag. I dropped the scarf back over the doll and the gris-gris bag and backed away.
Make a decision!
I began reloading the bag to take back to that woman, but stopped when I saw a letter addressed to me lying on the floor. I picked up the cream-colored envelope and stumbled over to the comfy chair.
This is, officially, beyond bizarre.
    Should I open it? How could I not open it? I’d never know what the letter said if I didn’t open it.
I turned the envelope over. A glob of red wax with a
fleur-de-lis sealed the flap. Nice touch. It looked like Kate’s butter pats, only blood red instead of pale yellow. Good stationery—scented, too. I sniffed.
Gardenia?
I got up, retrieved a letter opener from Kate’s office, and slit the top of the envelope, careful not to break the pretty seal. The cream-colored card was embossed with a small gold fleur-de-lis.
    Ma chère April,
    You are reading this, so good for you, you have taken the first step in overcoming your fear of the unknown. You will find in your bag: “The New Orleans Voodoo Handbook” to give you some history, “The Voodoo Hoodoo Spellbook” to give you understanding, and “Women and New Orleans: A History” to give you inspiration. I hope you enjoy the books.
    I invite you to visit me when you are ready to delve deeper and learn how to use the rest of the items.
    À bientôt, Marguerite
    I reread her handwritten note before sliding it back into the envelope.
Is she serious? Delve deeper? What does she mean by that? Do I even want to know?
I had to admit, I was sort of intrigued by her. She was refined and elegant, and appeared to be well-educated. But there was something unsettling about her. She was a little spooky, otherworldly. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was definitely something different about her. She was being nice and trying to help me. But why? She put together this Voodoo swag bag for me. Again, why? What was her motivation?
    I went back to the bed to inspect the items. I stacked the books and put them in the armoire, so Kate wouldn’t see them. It couldn’t hurt to flip through them at some point, could it? After all, they were only books. I placed the candles on the dresser. If Kate ever asked about them, I’d tell her I bought them in case the lights went out again, black being my favorite color. I picked up the tiny brown bottle labeled
Holy Anointing Oil
and read:
For spiritual strength, dab forehead and temples
. I opened the bottle, took a whiff. I didn’t recognize the fragrance, but it wasn’t unpleasant. As directed, I dabbed a little on my forehead and temples, inhaled deeply. Not so bad—not bad at all. I slipped the bottle into my handbag.
    I picked up the fringed red and black scarf and wrapped the gauzy fabric around my shoulders. It was large, more like a shawl. I put the incense cone on the burner, found last night’s