Page 40 of Witch
“They didn’t need fifteen of us to ensure that, but I’m damn glad there are—fifteen that is. I’m glad for everyone here.”
“We’ll be okay,” she said, smiling up at him. Marie took the driver’s seat, her sisters in the SUV with her. They all waved at their brothers, husbands, and friends as they pulled out of the property, driving toward the General Store.
“Couvillion’s just called,” said Baptiste. “He came in and got a sandwich and some other things, but he’s back in his cabin now. Beau said he’s been sitting at the damn window watching all morning.”
“Okay. Let them know the girls are on their way. The rest of us will get to the cottage.” As Gaspar headed toward the boats, Trak gripped his arm, holding him firm.
“On my life, your sisters will be fine.”
“You know, Trak, I absolutely believe you, brother.” He hugged the man, loading into the boat. As they wound their way around the river’s edge, through the bayous toward their destination, Gaspar noticed the group of gators swimming beside them.
“Are they friends of yours?” he asked Trak.
“Not of mine. Of yours,” he said, nodding toward them.
Gaspar stared at the gators, only recognizing Alvin. But he heard clearly the voices of the creatures assuring him that they were there to protect him and his family.
Gabriel lifted his face to the warm sunshine, the hint of fall hitting his skin, sending blissful joy and happiness through his body. As they passed one of the small fishing settlements, they waved at the people, and Gabe realized something.
“Hey, do you guys know what day it is?” he smiled.
“Friday,” said Tailor.
“Yep, Friday the what?” he prompted.
“I don’t know,” frowned Alec. “I lose track of time sometimes.”
“It’s Friday, the 31stof October. Today is Halloween, brothers. We are about to scare the shit out of a man, literally, with a dozen ghosts on Halloween. Tell me that’s not fate.”
“I’ll be damned,” smirked Ghost. “It’s fucking Halloween.”
“Let’s get this shit done. I want to see our kids in their costumes,” said Nine. “With any luck, by Christmas, we’ll be handing over everything to Luke and the other boys.”
Miller laughed, shaking his head at his old friend.
“What’s so funny?” asked Nine.
“You said turning it over to the boys. They’re all late fifties, early sixties, brother. They’re not boys.”
“They are to me. They always will be.”
“Now you know how I feel,” said Matthew, seated on the bow of the boat. “You will always be my children, my sons and daughters, my boys and girls. Always.”
“We get it now, Pops. I think we all finally understand most, if not all, of what you and Mama have been preaching,” said Jean.
“I should hope so,” smirked Matthew. “It’s only been decades of pounding it into your heads.”
The six women stepped out of the SUV, laughing and joking as they always did. In spite of their age differences, they looked identical to one another. All still possessed the auburn hair of the Robicheaux family, albeit laced with some silver and white, the whiskey-colored eyes glowing with laughter and wisdom. They were all around five-feet-six or -seven; beautiful figures belying their age.
They could feel the eyes of their tormentor on them, but ignored it, stepping onto the porch of the General Store and entering.
“Good morning, Beau,” said Camille.
“Morning, Miss Camille. Y’all damn sure get prettier and prettier. Ain’t there more of you at home that me and the brothers could marry?”
“Aww, you’re so sweet,” said Claudette. “I’m afraid it’s just the six of us. And our daughters, and granddaughters, and great-granddaughters.” They all laughed as the women just walked around the store, not really intending to buy anything.
“Did your mama make these pickles, Bridge?” asked Marie.
