Page 44 of The House on Prytania
I sat in the backseat with Sarah. “So, how do you like the hotel? I toured the rooms when I made your reservations, and if I could afford it I’d be staying there. It used to be an active parish church with a Catholic school and convent, but they were all abandoned a few decades ago. Luckily, a forward-thinking local preservationist decided to renovate and repurpose it into a luxury hotel.”
“It’s stunning,” Melanie said. “All of the fabrics and furnishings are gorgeous, and I love how there are no two guest rooms alike. We’re in the schoolhouse building, and JJ is excited about the bunkroom adjacent to ours. Sarah has her own room across the hall, but...”
I met Melanie’s gaze in the visor mirror.
“Maybe JJ wouldn’t mind if you took the other bunk in his room?” I suggested.
“Or I could just stay with you and Jolene, since I’m going to be moving in with you when Mom and Dad leave anyway.” Sarah looked at me hopefully.
I knew what happened when Melanie and her sister, Jayne, were together. If they hadn’t prepared themselves mentally to shield unwanted intrusions from lost spirits, they became a beacon to the wandering undead searching for someone who would listen. Melanie’s go-to defense was ABBA music. I didn’t know what Jayne used, but I assumed it was more subtle, as I’d never heard her break out in song in the middle of a museum or street or any of the spots I’d been with Melanie when she’d encountered a wayward spirit.
It made me wonder if the beacon of light that Sarah and Melanie together might be shining in an undoubtedly haunted location might be overwhelming for my little sister.
“It’s fine with me,” Jolene announced from the driver’s seat. “That will give us more time together to do girlie stuff. Speaking of which, do you have your own Barbie head at home?”
Sarah gave me a questioning look, and I gave a quick shake of my head.
“No. I don’t think so,” Sarah said.
“Well, no matter. Having you at the apartment will be so much fun!”
I sent Sarah a sympathetic look and was surprised to see my sister leaning forward with excitement. “Could you show me how to curl my hair like yours? Mom says I’m too young for makeup, even though I’m practically a teenager, but if you show me how to do my eye makeup I’ll already know how when it’s time.”
I sat back in my seat, realizing I wasn’t part of the conversation.
We found street parking on Rampart Street, near Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. As we climbed out of the car, Sarah asked, “Why are we here?”
I sent a warning glance to Jolene so she wouldn’t mention her quest to petition the saints for their intervention in her love life. “It’s the oldest church in the city. Actually, St. Louis Cathedral is older, but it’s been rebuilt at least once. This church building is original.”
Jolene pulled down the car’s visor and began reapplying her lipstick. “There are two statues I thought would be interesting. The first is an unusual one with a bit of a legend attached to it. His name is Saint Expedite. The legend has it that the statue arrived in a crate and the good nuns had no idea who he was. He’s dressed as a Roman soldier and he’s, like, a thousand years old, but he doesn’t have a shield or a sword, and on the crate was just the word ‘expedite.’ So they named him Saint Expedite, and people come to see him to ask for a quick response to their prayers.”
“Are you serious?” Melanie asked.
“As a dead person.” Jolene pulled her compact out of her purse and dabbed at her nose while we all watched. “The other saint—and he’s quite famous around the world—is Saint Jude. He’s the patron saint of hopeless causes.” Jolene smiled at us in the mirror before snapping the visor shut with authority despite the duct tape wrapped around it to keep it in place. “So the church is basically a one-stop shop for those desperate for intervention but needing it in a hurry.” She opened her door and stepped out of the car.
Melanie stood on the sidewalk, her eyebrows pressed together as she looked up at the white stucco church. “Is there... anything else about it? Besides the saints?”
Sarah spotted the historical marker in the neutral ground and pointed it out to her mother. “It says it was built in 1826 as a funeral chapel for the victims of yellow fever.” Their eyes met before they both looked at me.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware—really. Jolene just mentioned it washistoric, and I thought it would be interesting to see something that was quintessential New Orleans.” I crossed my arms and turned to Jolene. “I had no idea about... the yellow fever thing.”
Jolene’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Maybe y’all could wait here while I pop in for a few minutes? Since we’re already here.”
Melanie reached for Sarah’s hand. “We’ll be fine. For a little bit. Right, Sarah?”
My sister nodded, even managing a smile for Jolene.
Jolene beamed. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be fast. I’ve already typed up and folded my requests for intercession, and it shouldn’t take long to pin them on the wall and light a candle.”
It was Melanie’s turn to beam. “Nothing wrong with being organized, right, girls?”
She was looking at Sarah and me, and as if on cue we rolled our eyes in unison.
We slid off our sunglasses as we entered the church, and we were quickly enfolded in the dim serenity found in places of worship. The hushed voices of other visitors buzzed like sacred chanting amid the pale walls and jewel-toned windows. The scents of flowers and candle wax flooded the lofty space, huddling in the pews alongside the praying faithful. Statues and plaques of varying sizes filled most of the walls; at the far end was a simple altar with two angel statues standing at each side as guardians.
“Which one should I go to first?” Jolene whispered.
“Probably Saint Jude. Let him know what you’re asking for, and then head over to Saint Expedite to ask him to hurry it up.”
