watched her until she decided to speak.
“It was April Fools! He was trapped here on April Fools and could only walk free on the same day. Only fools can walk free! That’s what it meant!” Maman said, laughing. When finally her laughter died away, she continued on with her explanation. “Even so, his soul wasn’t lost. It was merely passed on to the man he would be today.”
“I don’t understand,” Claire whispered.
“He was cursed, a riddle the only clue to break the curse. But we were wrong. His soul wouldn’t have been lost, it was merely passed on to the man he’d eventually become — reborn again, not taken from him.”
Claire’s brain locked onto only one thing. “He’s not lost?” she asked, afraid to hope.
Maman shook her head and smiled, holding her hand out to Claire. Her fingers were closed, hiding something from view. Maman raised her hand a bit, indicating Claire should reach forward.
Claire reached her hand out, and Maman dropped an antique cameo ring into her palm.
Maman smiled at her kindly. “He’s not lost, child. He’s walking this earth again, as are you. He’s searching. He’s been searching for so long and has no idea what it is he’s looking for. But now you’ve released the man he once was, and his soul has found its home in him. His struggles are almost over. Put this back where it belongs, child. When he sees it, he’ll know you for his.”
“Where does it belong?” Claire asked.
Maman chuckled delightedly. “On your finger, of course!”
Claire was confused, but she did as Maman told her, slipping it on first one finger, then another until it fit snugly enough that there was no danger of losing it. It fit nicely on her index finger so she left it there.
She felt a tingle on her face and looked up from the ring on her finger to find Maman stroking her cheek. “Go to him, child. He needs you.”
Claire watched as Maman faded away with a contented smile on her face. Claire stood there for a moment longer, realizing that she had no clue of where to go to find him, or if she’d even recognize him.
“I don’t even know where to look! Where is he? Does he look the same?” she cried.
But there was no answer from Maman ‘Vangeline and no trace of her.
Claire shook her head, reeling as if she’d just woken from a dream. Surely that’s all it was. She stumbled a few steps away from the crypt that had always called to her, then stopped, looking down at the ring on her finger.
“Couldn’t have been a dream,” Claire mumbled. She looked around at all the people milling about the cemetery. She glanced at the trees that were hanging low over the walls built to keep the public from meandering through the graves whenever they wanted, and was suddenly overtaken with an intense need to get away from the place she’d always been drawn to. She began to run down the path leading from the crypt as quickly as she could. She needed to hurry, she needed to get outside these walls so she could breathe again.
She didn’t turn back, but if she had, she’d have seen a faint outline of Maman ‘Vangeline perched atop the crypt that bore her name, watching Claire rushing off to meet her destiny. “Love him well, sweet girl,” Maman said with a smile on her lips as she faded away.
Claire shouted so many apologies as she ran through the throngs of tourists lingering after their tour of the historic cemetery that she lost count. She was running at the same time she was looking back over her shoulder to shout another apology, and bounced off someone so hard she almost fell on her bottom, but strong arms reached out to catch her. “I’m so sorry! I should have been watching where I was going!” she rushed out as she righted herself and picked up her purse from the ground.
A handsome young man, with Nordic-like pale skin, blonde hair, and luminescent green eyes stood with his face to the sun, a completely new outlook on life. He didn’t know what had happened. He’d fallen asleep in the cemetery again last night, and when he’d awakened, all the emptiness was gone. He often slept in the cemetery — he’d been drawn here all his life. Even when he’d been younger back in the halfway house in juvie-detention, he’d run away most nights to sleep here. It was the