Whispers of the Bayou Read Online Free PDF Page B

budge. Willy refused to tell me anything over the phone, but he said if I came down there to see him right away, all would be revealed.
    I grabbed the phone from her and tried myself, but the weary male voice on the other end began to cry, begging me to come, saying this was the only way I could learn the truth before he died. Hearing the whimper of his ill and aged voice, I felt myself growing sick to my stomach, confused and guilty about the whole situation, even though none of this was my fault. As I disconnected the call, I told AJ that as far as I could see, I had no choice. I needed to fly to Louisiana as soon as possible, whether she was happy about that or not.
    Before she could reply, I told her to wait, that there was an urgent call I needed to make first. AJ sat and stewed on the couch as I dialed the receptionist at the museum to see if the man had come back yet for his painting. The girl said that he had not, so I had her transfer the call to my friend Bill, who was the head of our museum’s security department. I explained the strange situation to him as simply as I could, saying that a suspicious man had left a painting in my office today and that shortly afterward I had been mugged in an alley while walking to lunch.
    “The police suspect that the two events are connected,” I hedged, “so it’s very important to handle the situation correctly if the man returns.”
    Bill was infuriated at the thought that I had been attacked, and he promised that if the man I described showed up at the museum he would be detained and that the police and I would be contacted immediately. I thanked Bill for his help and ended the call. Hanging up the phone, I looked across the room at my aunt. Her expression was somber, her hands carefully clasped in front of her.
    “What is it?” I asked warily.
    “Until today, I didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with this, with the thought of you going back down to Louisiana.”
    She seemed so upset that I actually felt bad for her. I may not have known the reasons why she had always kept so much from me, but I had no doubt that she’d thought it was for my own good.
    “This isn’t that big of a deal,” I said gently. “I’ll just go down there, meet with this man, and come home. End of story.”
    AJ leaned forward, pressing a delicate hand to her cheek.
    “It’s not that simple, Miranda,” she said. “Going down there and revisiting your past can only stir up memories and feelings that have long since been put to rest.”
    “Why would that stir things up? It’s not like I remember anything about it anyway.”
    “But you will. I’m afraid if you go back there, you will.”
    “So what if I did? Would that be so bad?”
    She didn’t answer me at first but simply stood and began pacing.
    “When I brought you back from Louisiana as a child, Miranda, you were completely traumatized. I didn’t know for sure why, and no one down there would give me a straight answer, but my guess was that among other things, you must have witnessed your mother’s death. That’s something that no child should ever have to see. Even though you’re an adult now, remembering that sort of trauma could have all sorts of repercussions. Emotional repercussions.”
    I watched her pace, thinking how odd it was to see her acting this way.
    “AJ, aren’t you being a little dramatic? This isn’t like you to be so over the top.”
    She simply paced faster, her hands working nervously together in front of her. Finally, she came to a stop, looking at me and studying my face.
    “You didn’t talk for almost a year after your mother died. Did you know that?”
    “I…what?”
    I sat on the nearest chair, my eyes wide.
    “When I brought you here, all you would do was sit in the corner and rock back and forth for hours on end, perfectly silent. Never made a sound. It scared me to death. I was afraid you’d never come out of it, never come back to me.”
    The skin on my arms raised into goose