Firelight: Noelle

   Prologue
Minden, Louisiana
October 2000

Madeline Auclair pointed her flashlight to the ground as she stepped down the porch stairs. It had been two hours since Camille called, saying she was on her way to Minden, asking for directions to her home, and requesting that Madeline turn off the outside lights. Madeline had tried to ask Camille why she was calling her at 10 p.m. to say she was coming for a visit, but Camille said she couldn’t talk - she was on a payphone, and baby Sara was asleep in the car. The payphone bit puzzled Madeline: why was Camille using a payphone when Claude must have bought her the latest Nokia cell phone? But perhaps a cell phone wouldn’t work on the highway. And why did she ask Madeline to turn off the lights?

It was chilly outside for a Louisiana fall, and the waning moon gave little light as Madeline stood in the yard listening as a car with its headlights off slowly crunched the gravel in her driveway. The county road at the end of the driveway was deserted late at night, so Camille was in luck if she didn't want anyone to know where she was. The vehicle had almost reached Madeline before she saw it was a black Mercedes. Now, that’s a car that needed to be hidden if Camille didn't want anyone from the neighboring farms asking nosy questions.

The car stopped, and Camille lowered the driver's side window. "I need to park the car behind your house so no one can see it from the road."

Madeline used her flashlight to guide Camille behind her home and directed her to stop outside the kitchen door, where Camille jumped out of the car and hugged Madeline. "I'm so happy to see you." Camile looked disheveled -  like she’d only had time to run her fingers through her hair and throw on whatever as she ran out the door. That was unlike Camille; she loved pretty clothes, and they loved her back. But tonight, she wore jeans, a Tulane hoodie, and running shoes with no socks.

"Oh, let me see your baby," Madeline said. She was so excited to see Camille for the first time in months. She wasn't going to ask Camille why she’d come calling at midnight, at least not yet. Something bad must have happened for Camille to leave her husband in New Orleans and drive north to Minden, a six-hour trip even if you drove straight through.

Camille opened the car's back door and picked up baby Sara, who was sleeping in her car seat. A cloud moved, and the moon shone on the baby’s face. Madeline gasped; Sara was a miniature of her mother with the same white-blond hair and perfect features. And she bet that when Sara opened her eyes, she would see Camille's startling blue eyes.

 

"Oh, Camille, she's beautiful," Madeline said, but now wasn’t the time or place to talk -  it was cool outside, and Camille looked exhausted. So, Madeline insisted they go inside. Camille placed the car seat, cradling the still sleeping baby, in the middle of the kitchen table. Then she returned to the car to get Sara’s diaper bag and a large rolling suitcase. Madeline looked at the size of the bag but said nothing. What could have made Camille come to her home this late at night with enough luggage to last a week? She hadn’t seen Camille since she got married, and even then, Madeline had only been in New Orleans for the weekend, visiting her home to deliver a wedding present and wish Camille and Claude a happy future.

"Where can I park my car so that it won’t be seen?"

"There is a grove of trees out back. But finding that stand would be difficult in the dark. Why don't you give me the keys, and I'll park it for you?"

Camille gave them to her. "I'll walk out with you and grab her Pack and Play before you move it."

Madeline returned to the kitchen, handing the keys back to Camille. "Okay, now. Let's set up this bed for Princess Sara, and then we can have some hot chocolate and talk."

Madeline picked up the portable crib and started up the back stairs, and Camille followed with the baby. They set up Sara’s crib in the guest room and put her to bed. The baby must have been exhausted because she didn’t wake up when she was taken out of the car seat and placed in the crib.

"You can sleep in this room with Sara, if that’s all right?” Madeline asked, gesturing to a mahogany four-poster bed with a faded blue silk coverlet.

Camille assured Madeline that the room was wonderful, and they returned to the kitchen, leaving the door open so they could hear Sara if she cried. Two stairways led to the upstairs hallway: the formal stairway in the entry hall and the back stairs off the kitchen, so sound would travel if the bedroom door was open.

Madeline began preparing hot chocolate, placing a tin of cookies in the middle of the white Formica kitchen table so Camille would have something to munch on if she were still hungry. Madeline had seen McDonald's wrappers when she parked Camille’s car, so she assumed Camille had eaten during her drive from New Orleans to Minden. If Madeline hadn’t already figured out that Camille was in trouble, seeing McDonald’s trash would have told her. Camille was a vegetarian and never ate fast food.

"How are you, darling? And what happened?"

"I love this place. When you told me you inherited a house and farm in Minden and would retire and move there, I didn't imagine this. It looks like the set of a Southern gothic romance.”

"Yes, it’s romantic, which is some compensation for the lack of modern conveniences."

“Do you miss New Orleans? When you told me about Minden, I couldn't imagine Miss Madeline as a country gal. Don't you miss seeing the touring Broadway shows and going to the opera and ballet?"

"I'm not far from Shreveport. There are several colleges in the area, so there is always something happening. The Strand Theatre hosts touring shows, and I'm volunteering for a local ballet company, which satisfies my dance gene."

"Good. I would hate to see Louisiana's best dance teacher wither away in a small town."

Madeline blew a kiss to acknowledge the compliment, then put a cup of hot chocolate smothered in miniature marshmallows on the table in front of Camille, pulled out a dinette chair, and sat down. "It’s a different world here. A few Cajun families live this far north, and I've befriended some of them. They're always ready to have a party. But enough about me. I'm thrilled to see you. You’re welcome anytime, but I’m worried about why you're here so late at night and why you didn’t want anyone to know you were coming. Where's Claude?"

"Your home is so lovely. Did it look like this when you moved here?" Camille asked.

“Honey, stop deflecting. We can talk about Minden another time. Why isn't Claude with you? You told me he never leaves your side. What happened?"

Camille looked at Madeline, and Madeline could see that she was about to cry.

"Sweetie, just tell me. I can't fix it until I know what needs fixing."

 

Two Nights Ago
The Garden District of New Orleans

 

Camille followed Claude as he carried baby Sara from the restaurant to their car. They’d just gone out to dinner as a family, the first time Camille had been in a restaurant since Sara’s birth three months ago.

Camile watched as Claude carefully reinstalled Sara’s car seat, and then she sat in the back seat next to her baby as Claude drove away, tailed by the always-present follow car with two guards. One of their guards had been sitting at a table by the restaurant door while they ate, while the other stayed outside to make sure no one tampered with the car. Camille thought Claude was overly cautious about their security, but knew she shouldn’t complain. He could be right. Anyone looking at Claude would easily assume he was a millionaire with his custom-made suits and Rolex collection. And he stood out; he was tall, lean, and gorgeous with a full head of black hair and a perfectly symmetrical face. He was so good-looking that Camille had gasped when she first saw him.

"So, do you want to return to Commander's Palace?"

"I love it. But I would have been excited to eat at Denny's." Noelle replied.

"We can go out more now that Sara is a bit older. I will look around for more family-friendly restaurants where she can holler loud enough to raise Marie Laveau from her tomb."

Camille decided to make one more attempt to convince Claude to lighten up on her security. "I know you are trying to keep me safe, but it's tough not being able to leave the house alone. You still won’t let me take Sara for a walk in her pram, and we live in a very safe neighborhood."

“Honey, you know it’s dangerous. We’re in New Orleans. You’re married to a rich man, and things can get rough here. Many people have less than we do and might be tempted to rob or kidnap you if they saw you walking alone."

"You keep saying that, but you have two guards living in the house with us. Couldn't one of them accompany me when I take Sara out for a walk?"

"I'm working on it."

"Please do. And while you’re at it, why don't you decide it's okay for my friends to come to the house to see my baby."

Claude glanced over his shoulder at his wife but continued driving without answering her. They reached their home, a mansion in the New Orleans Garden District, surrounded by an eight-foot wrought iron fence studded with security cameras. After pulling into the driveway, followed by the guard car, they got out to walk into the house, leaving their vehicle to be parked by the guards.

Camille was walking behind Claude, who was carrying baby Sara, still strapped into her car seat, when two men with guns in their hands ran toward them from behind the detached garage. The guards were fumbling to pull their weapons and yelling at the men to stop, but they kept coming. Camille froze for a second, then her hands involuntarily rose, and a burst of light left her palms, lifting the men fifty feet into the air and flying them away to hover over the house next door. Camille was in shock; what had just happened? She let out a small scream and dropped her hands, causing the men to fall on the neighbor’s roof with thumps loud enough for everyone in the neighborhood to hear.

Camille stood silently in the yard with her hands clutched to her sides as Claude and the two guards stared at her.

"Baby, what did you do?" Claude spoke calmly.

Camille was shaking. "I don't know. I wanted them to go away. That's all. I just wanted them to go away. Are they dead?"

"Most likely. If not now, then soon. No one could survive that fall."

“I just killed two men," Camile sobbed.

"You saved our lives. They were going to kill us, even baby Sara."

"How do you know that they wanted to kill us, not rob us?" Camille asked. “How? Is this another one of your secrets?”

“Yes, but it’s a long story, and we must get inside before the police come, see us outside, and assume we saw what happened."

                           

Minden, Louisiana
October 2000

 

Camille had stopped talking and was sitting quietly at the kitchen table.

"So, what happened?" Madeline asked.

"Which 'what happened’ do you want to know about? What happened with the police and the bodies, or what happened when Claude finally told me the truth about what he was? Or should we talk about whether I will ever get over killing those two men?"

"All of it, but let's start with the gunmen who attacked you," Madeline replied.

“We went inside the house, and the guards checked to be sure that no one was hiding inside, and all the doors and windows were still locked. We could hear fire trucks racing down the street. Claude insisted on going next door to talk to the neighbors. He wanted to act as if we were as confused as anyone else in the neighborhood about why there would be so many firetrucks next door."

“What did the guards think about what you did?” Madeline asked.

“They think what Claude tells them to think and certainly don’t tell me.” Camille continued, "The next morning, the police knocked on our door and asked if we knew anything about what happened last night. Claude took them into his office and closed the door, telling them that I had been asleep when it happened. After they left, Claude explained that he told the officers that he’d been sitting in his office at the back of the house when he heard two small explosions next door. The police had asked him if he’d heard a helicopter before he heard the sounds, and he said no. He said that the police told him that it looked like two men were pushed out of a helicopter and died upon impact.”

“Did the police believe that’s what happened?” Madeline asked.

“I doubt it. It happened at 9 p.m., and the neighbors would still have been awake. The temperature was in the high fifties, so some wouldn’t have been running their air conditioners and could have had their windows open. So, anyone awake could hear a helicopter. But Claude told me not to worry, that the police weren’t going to make fools of themselves searching for a UFO and would go with the most likely explanation that the men on the roof were pushed out of a helicopter, even if no one heard it.”

“But wouldn’t there be a record of a helicopter flying around New Orleans at night?” Madeline asked.

“I asked the same questions, but Claude said I was making too much of it. The police wouldn’t be able to identify the bodies, so they would do what they always do - look around a bit, close the case, and get on with things. Claude said two dead guys on a roof was just another Tuesday in New Orleans.”

“Why was he so sure the police wouldn’t be able to identify the bodies?” Madeline asked. “Did you talk?”

“We did—that night, right after I finally got Sara to sleep. She was terribly upset, like she knew what had happened. I don’t know how; there was almost no noise. I screamed, but Claude and the guards didn’t make a sound. It was like they weren’t surprised when we were attacked. But somehow Sara knew, and that broke my heart.”

“Tell me what Claude told you, sweetie.”

“If you are going to understand everything that happened, I need to go back to the beginning and tell you how I met Claude and everything that happened afterward. I didn't tell you the whole story when you came to see me after we married because I didn’t know what you would think about what I did; I’m still not sure what I think. My relationship with Claude was strange from the beginning. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him; looking at him knocked me over. Claude was my first boyfriend; hell, he was my first everything. It was like the girl I was before I met Claude vanished, and I was someone else.”

Madeline nodded. “It was so fast. I was surprised when you called to tell me that you’d fallen in love with a man you just met, were having his baby, and had eloped.”

“I’m so infatuated with Claude that I’m antsy now because I’m away from him, and you know that’s not like me.”

“No, I don’t remember you telling me that you liked anyone when you were in high school.”

“I didn’t, but it was a girls’ school, so falling in love would have been difficult unless I crushed on one of the nuns or a guard.” Camille laughed but quickly stopped.

“So, tell me about Claude.”

“I met Claude the first week of my sophomore year at Tulane. I was leaving a dance class when he ran into me, almost knocking me over. He grabbed me to keep me from falling, apologized, and insisted on taking me to a coffee shop/bakery just off campus to make up for his clumsiness. Normally, I would have laughed that off. Guys were always pulling stunts to get me to go out with them, but there was something about Claude – I couldn’t say no.”

“We had coffee that day, and I don’t understand why, but I slept with him that night. I  never had a boyfriend before Claude, but he mesmerized me  -  I couldn’t say no. From then on, we were inseparable. A week later, I moved out of my dorm and into Claude’s home, and two months later, I told him I was pregnant with Sara. He was thrilled and insisted that we get married immediately, and we did. If another professor had gotten a student pregnant and then married her, it would have created a scandal and serious problems with the administration. My being pregnant did cause some gossip about how Claude was twenty years older than me, but there were no repercussions from Tulane, which I thought was odd, even if I wasn’t in any of his classes.”

Camille looked at Madeline as if she wanted to know if Madeline disapproved of her sleeping with a man the day she met him and becoming pregnant, but she must not have seen anything because she continued. “But here’s what hurts me the most. Before I married Claude, I told him what I was and how I had spontaneously flown when I was eight years old. I thought it was only fair that he knew who he was marrying and what I might pass on to our child. But he laughed it off and said I must have accidentally eaten some strange mushrooms on a pizza. I was hurt that he didn’t believe me, so I never brought it up again. But that night, after we were attacked, Claude told me he’d known I was a fairy the first time he saw me. He also told me that he was a fairy, but from a tribe called the Dalca, which had powers different from those of my tribe, which he said was the Cielon, the tribe in the title of Mr. Delfin’s book, which I’d never mentioned to him. Claude said that the Dalca cannot fly or zap people, but they have a magical ability to make money. He also told me there was an old law forbidding fairies from separate tribes from mixing and having children. Supposedly, no one had ever enforced it, but Claude thought that the men who attacked us were from a tribe called the Grendel that wanted to kill us because we broke the law.”

“Is that why you came here? You’re fleeing from men who want to kill you?”

“Yes. What happened must have been serious because Claude insisted that I not read any newspaper stories or listen to any news about the men found on the roof. He said he didn’t want me to become even more upset, but I doubt that was it – Claude was always hiding things from me. But not knowing more about those men was fine with me. I killed them. Knowing who they were, if they had a family, maybe children, would have only made it worse.”

“That must have been just awful. I’m so glad you decided to come here.”

“I came because I need help, and you’ve always been the closest thing I've had to a mother. Would you take care of Sara for a few days while I return to New Orleans? I must go back; they could attack again, and Claude would have been killed that night if I hadn’t been there to blast those men. You didn’t say anything when I told you I killed them.”

“Sweetie, you’re magical, and I will never be surprised at anything you can do. And I don’t have a problem with you killing men who were trying to kill you. This is Louisiana, and some folks carry guns to church. But I know you must be devastated, even though you did what you had to do to protect your husband and baby. Listen to me, you don’t need to go back and put yourself in danger. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Claude knows they are coming for him now, so he’ll take precautions, hire more guards.”

“He will, but he doesn’t have my abilities. I didn’t know I could blast someone, but my powers may spontaneously appear when I need them, and I need to be there to defend my husband. Maybe I can do something else to protect him, something I don’t know I can do. Will you take care of Sara for a few days? I brought everything you will need in that huge suitcase.”

“Of course, I’ll take care of her. Does Claude know you’re here?”

“I left quietly, jumping into the car and pulling away before the guards could follow me. But who am I kidding? I’m sure he knows exactly where I'm; there's no way I could have packed up the car and taken Sara without him knowing. His men probably followed me here. And knowing that makes me worry even more because if he knew what I was going to do and didn’t stop me, he doesn’t think Sara is safe in New Orleans any more than I do.”

“You know I will do anything for you, but I don’t want you to run back into danger.”

“I don’t have a choice. I love him,” Camille said.

“I know you do. I don’t want you to go, but if you must, your baby will be safe with me. I’ll guard her with my life.”

Camille hugged Madeline, “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d never been my dance teacher.”

“But I was, and you’re here now, and I will always help you,” Madeline replied.

The next morning, Camille came downstairs with baby Sara in her arms; Camille showered kisses all over her baby’s face and said, “Sweetheart, I’m leaving you with Miss Madeline for a few days, and then Daddy and I will come for you. You have a wonderful time and ask Miss Madeline to teach you how to dance in your bouncy chair.”

Asking Madeline to teach a three-month-old baby to dance must be a joke, but the baby appeared to understand everything her mother told her and nodded.

Camille smothered baby Sara with more kisses and then handed her to Madeline. She looked as though she was trying not to cry in front of Sara. “I’m so glad you came into my life. Sister Dolores would want to help, but I would never trust her with Sara’s life. She can’t stop talking; I don’t think she owns a mute button.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her and see you in a few days.” Madeline hoped she sounded calm and confident.

“And don’t you worry. I’ll be back soon,” Camille gave Madeline a quick hug, then she jumped into the car to return to New Orleans.

Chapter I
Northern Louisiana, December 2008  

 

Noelle jumped out of the car as Madeline Auclair rolled her ancient Oldsmobile to a stop in front of the Shreveport Municipal Auditorium. It was twenty minutes before Saturday morning’s rehearsal, and Noelle knew what would happen if she were late; no one wanted to be reprimanded by Madame Grenier. Noelle blew a kiss to her aunt, “Bye, Tante. See you at lunch.” And she was off, running up the stairs to the auditorium, catching up with Lynette Herbert, another third grader who had also been cast in this year’s production of The Nutcracker.

Noelle was thrilled that she and Lynette were the youngest dancers in this year's production; well, they were the youngest if you didn’t count the party scene children chasing them into the auditorium, yelling, “Noelle, Noelle! Wait for me!”

Lynette didn’t have as long a drive as Tante and Noelle because she lived in Shreveport, where her father owned the Ford dealership. Tante Madeline always said, “Everyone knows the Herberts have money, and if you don’t know, they’ll tell you.”

Noelle was already wearing her pink tights and black short-sleeved leotard. Her white-blond hair was jelled into a severe bun with no breakaway tendrils obscuring her face. But she was still wearing her sneakers and carrying her pink Barbie dance bag, which contained her ballet slippers, pointe shoes, lambswool, tape, and bandages. Noelle hoped Madame Grenier wouldn’t criticize her when she lined up the dancers to check for forbidden bangs, holey tights, and jewelry. Catching Madame Grenier’s eye was never a good thing.

Tante Madeline always checked Noelle’s bag before leaving for rehearsal and dance classes so she wouldn’t need to make a frantic trip back home or a quick run to the local dance store to purchase something-or-the-other-that-was-supposed-to-be-in-the-bag-but-wasn’t. Tante told everyone who would listen that it was easier to open the bag and say, “Oops,” than to nag Noelle, “Did you pack your new toes shoes? Do you have enough lambs’ wool for today? Do I need to buy some more before opening night? How about the tape?” and on and on.

Tante Madeline would spend the entire day in the auditorium or backstage. Any parent or grandparent with a dancer under twelve had to be there for the entire rehearsal because, as Madame Grenier always said, “I’m their ballet mistress, not their babysitter.”

It would be a long day for Noelle and her aunt - Tante sitting in the audience, and Noelle backstage ready to rehearse her three roles – a dancer backing Clara in the opening party scene (toe shoes), a mouse bravely fighting at the side of the Mouse King (the ballet slippers), and Noelle’s crowning achievement for the year, dancing in the corps de ballet for “The Waltz of the Snowflakes” (also the toe shoes). Noelle loved the icy blue bodice and shimmering silver-white skirt of her “Waltz” tutu. She might be the smallest dancer and assigned to the end of the line, but she led the snowflakes onto the stage.

Noelle knew Lynette was unhappy that Noelle was dancing in “The Waltz of the Snowflakes.” Lynette’s biggest role this year was dancing with the Mouse King, wearing a mask with whiskers and a grey costume with a tail. Lynette was particularly upset because Madame Grenier had told her she wasn’t strong enough to go on pointe, and Noelle was not only dancing on pointe, but Madame Grenier had announced to the dance class that she planned to cast Noelle as Clara’s understudy next year. The dance moms widely criticized Noelle’s being on point; they couldn’t stop harping about how eleven was the youngest they had ever heard of anyone going on point, yet here was eight-year-old Noelle pointing away like no one knew she had green bones in her feet. But no one dared to mention their kind concern to Madame.

Noelle was thrilled to hear she would be the understudy, but she was smart enough not to tell Madame (and her dance class) that she’d already learned Clara’s choreography from watching her dance. Noelle kept her mouth shut because every time she went into the auditorium to get a snack out of the old red Coca-Cola cooler Tante had lugged from the car, she would overhear the other “reltives” whispering about how awful it was that Madame played favorites with Noelle and how strange it was that Madame had decided that Noelle was strong enough to dance on pointe. “I know Noelle’s tall for her age, and Madame put her on the end of the line, but she’s eight, eight!” “Whatever was Madame thinking?” and on and on.

Tante told her she’d been looking at green eyes since she was sixteen and signed on to dance with the Stuttgart Ballet. She told Noelle that she needed to tune out the other dancers’ jealousy because she would deal with envy for the rest of her life. But Tante also reminded Noelle that since the dance gods had blessed her with talent, she should be grateful, not boastful. Jealousy was a natural emotion, and envious people were just being human. “When I taught dance in New Orleans, some of the dancers and all of the parents were upset after we cast The Nutcracker.”

Noelle ran into the dressing room to drop off her bag and plopped onto the floor to put on her toe shoes. She taped her toes and stuffed the toe box with lambswool before she tied the ribbons, carefully tucking the ends so they wouldn’t show. Noelle had previously danced the part of a child in the opening party scene, and the dancers who played the children wore ballet flats. But this year, Noelle was dancing behind Clara in the opening scene, so she was on pointe.

Madame Grenier normally didn’t call the first dance until at least fifteen minutes after the rehearsal call time, so after checking to see that no one was around backstage, Noelle climbed the metal stairs to the catwalk, the only place she knew she would be alone to practice her pirouettes for “The Waltz of the Snowflakes.” She knew she wasn’t supposed to be up there and certainly shouldn’t dance twenty feet above the stage, but she had been sneaking upstairs since Madame Greiner first cast her in The Nutcracker when she was five. The catwalk was attached to the wall and hidden by the stage curtains so no one could see her from the audience or the stage.

Noelle knew playing up there was supposed to be dangerous, but she also knew she wouldn’t fall. She’d been running on the banister from the first to the second floor of her home since she was five. Tante had caught her once, and Noelle had apologized for leaving black scuff marks, promising to run barefoot from then on. Then Tante spoke sternly to Noelle, something she rarely did, “Don’t do it again.”

So, from then on, Noelle waited until Tante was working in the garden before she played on the railing, and she always took off her shoes beforehand.  Noelle didn’t want to upset Tante but loved the thrill of running on the banister too much to stop. When she ran, she pretended she was flying from the foyer to the second-floor hall to curtsey to the framed photos of her Auclair ancestors.

When Noelle reached the catwalk, she was alone, and the backstage curtains were drawn. The walkway was narrow, but Noelle had always been able to turn on a fine line, so she wasn’t worried as she carefully placed her body at the end of the walk closest to the orchestra pit below, spotted the edge of the railing near the stairs, and began her turns. Noelle closed her eyes and wished she could dance like the Snow Queen. And off she went, turning perfectly until she felt something soft hit her body. She opened her eyes and saw that she was eight feet above the walk and had just collided with the purple velvet curtains, causing them to balloon onto the stage. Noelle looked down and saw nothing but air below her feet; she was hovering high above the stage, and the curtain was billowing around her body, hiding her from everyone below.

Noelle was in shock, but she heard Madame Grenier shouting as she floated back down, so she pulled the curtains apart a smidge and looked down. Madame Grenier stood in the middle of the stage with her jet-black hair pulled so tightly into a bun that Noelle could see pink stripes of her scalp. Madame was gesturing to the curtain with her stick. “What happened to that curtain?” she asked, then shouted to the stagehands, “Go up there right now and find out what happened!”

Noelle was stunned; how did she fly into the curtain eight feet above the railing? And why was she flying? Whatever happened, she knew she couldn’t tell anyone, and no one could find out. But she could hear the stagehands climbing up the metal stairs, and they would see her soon, so she ran to the other side of the catwalk to hide.

Noelle could hear the stagehands searching the walk on the other side of the stage. They opened the curtain to holler at Madame, saying they didn’t find anything that could have caused the curtain to balloon, so they were coming back down.

As the stagehands clambered down the stairs, Noelle heard one say, “Hey, it could have been a ghost. Elvis played Shreveport when he was getting started, and people always say they see his ghost.”

“Elvis’s ghost is in Vegas, you idiot!”

“If it wasn’t Elvis, who was it? “

“Dunno. Maybe Johnny Cash?”

Noelle was frightened, but as soon as the stagehands left, she grabbed her courage and climbed back down the stairs, planning to tell anyone who caught her that she’d snuck up there to look for the ghost that hit the curtain. It was better to get into trouble for being a snoop than for being a freak.

Tante Madeline was pacing in the dressing room when Noelle arrived. “Honey, are you okay?

“Yes, but I’m late, so I'd better get on stage.”

Tante stared at Noelle and then said, “Rehearsal may be delayed. Something strange happened high on the right stage curtain. It looked like something flew into it and then bounced back. Everyone sitting in the auditorium saw it. But when the stagehands looked, they didn’t see anyone upstairs or anything that could have fallen.”

Tante looked so worried that Noelle was about to fess up about the catwalk when Lynette ran into the dressing room. “Did you see what just happened?”

“Tante just told me,” Noelle replied.

“Oh. Well, then, Madame Grenier told me to find you and tell you that the curtain moving wasn’t an excuse for not being on time. You’re the only dancer missing, and everyone’s waiting for you,” Lynette looked thrilled to tell Noelle that Madame Grenier had noticed she‘d done something wrong.

Noelle hugged Tante and said, “See you at lunch.” Then she ran backstage, twirled the toes of her shoes in the resin box, and joined the other dancers in the wing, ready to follow Clara onto the stage. The only stage furniture was the Christmas tree and the gift boxes surrounding it. The rest of the set was painted on the backdrop, so the floor was clear, which was good because Madame Grenier had cast what looked like the entire population of Shreveport in the party scene.

No one was in costume yet. The ladies of the Ballet Auxiliary Society were still busy altering the costumes or nagging the seamstresses they’d paid to volunteer to finish on time. The dress rehearsals were this Tuesday and Wednesday night before Thursday's grand opening of the Shreveport Studio Ballet’s tenth production of The Nutcracker.

When Noelle lined up backstage for the opening number, she saw Sophie Landry greeting the dancers. Sophie was a sophomore dance major at Tulane. She was from Shreveport and danced in The Nutcracker from the time she was five until she left for college. Madame Grenier always said Sophie was more talented and prettier than anyone they could import from the ABT Studio Company. And Tante always added “And a lot cheaper, too,” as soon as she was out of range of Madam’s perky ears. So, Sophie was commuting from New Orleans every weekend to rehearse her part as the Snow Queen, and she would return to Shreveport on Wednesday of the performance week in time for the Thursday night opening. Noelle had had a crush on Sophie since she first started performing with the ballet company, but seeing Sophie made Noelle shy. But Sophie wasn’t shy; she walked over to Noelle, hugged her, and laughed. “Here’s my girl! How about I ask Tulane to admit you so you can be my roommate?”

Noelle was embarrassed but pleased. She knew Sophie was joking about her enrolling in college, but all her friends admired Sophie, and joke or not, they were jealous that she favored Noelle. Sophie was the ballet rock star; Madame always bragged that you couldn’t hear Sophie’s toe shoes when they touched the floor, unlike the other dancers, well, except Noelle, who sounded like a herd of elephants when they danced on pointe. Sophie’s mother told all the parents and grandparents who would listen that she would allow Sophie to audition for a New York dance company, such as the American Ballet Theatre, but only after Sophie graduated from Tulane. Tante had told Noelle that Sophie’s mother liked to put Tulane and American Ballet Theatre in her mouth whenever she got the chance. But yep, Sophie was their star.

But there was no more time to talk to Sophie; Clara was entering the stage, and her ensemble needed to follow. Noelle tried to forget about “the incident” while she rehearsed. She only occasionally looked at the drapes that covered the catwalk, not wanting to draw attention to herself while she danced in the opening party scene, then changed to her ballet flats to rehearse the Mouse King’s fight with the Nutcracker prince. And then, finally, she would dance in her favorite part of the ballet, “The Waltz of the Snowflakes.” Or, as she overheard Tante Madeline joking with the other parents/grandparents watching the rehearsal, Noelle was a backup dancer for the Snow Queen's rap. Tante Madeline tried to be “with it” but sometimes failed.

The “Waltz” rehearsal went flawlessly. Sophie’s interpretation of the Snow Queen was magical; all the dancers watching her were inspired to do their best.

Madame Grenier had arranged the rehearsal schedule so everyone under twelve would finish by four p.m. So, just after four, a tired Noelle and an equally exhausted Tante packed up the cooler to haul it to Tante’s car for the drive back to Minden. The load was lighter now because Noelle’s Barbie thermos was empty, and there was nothing left in Tante’s ancient green Stanley coffee thermos after seven hours of rehearsal. And there wouldn’t be much time to rest after they arrived home because they were due back tomorrow morning at nine.

Tante and Noelle were leaving the auditorium when the mothers of two young party scene dancers approached Madame Grenier. Talking to Madame Grenier about anything required a huge shot of courage; Madame might be short in stature, but she was tall in terror.

Madame always dressed her paper-thin, fifty-year-old body in a black leotard, pink dance tights, black theatrical shoes, and a wraparound skirt. The stick she used to strike the floor was black onyx with a jewel-encrusted snake head, Madame’s only attempt at self-expression.

The two women and their children were new to the dance company and hadn’t previously been dressed down by Madame, so they didn’t know how ferocious she could be. The moms were dressed in their Dillard’s best and looked confident that their needs would be met. So, they smiled and asked Madame to please change tomorrow’s rehearsal to start after First Baptist Shreveport’s Sunday service ended. There were two of them, and they probably assumed that Madame would change the schedule; it was First Baptist, after all. Madame Grenier stared them down, raised her upper lip, and spoke louder than necessary, “All dancers and their parents agreed to the rehearsal schedule when they accepted their parts. Now is not the time to suddenly realize that you have a conflict. I’m sure you can arrange to receive a recording of the Sunday sermon and listen to it tomorrow night before you go to bed.”

Noelle was only eight years old, but she knew those mothers didn’t give a fig about tomorrow’s sermon but wanted to go to church so they could dress up and socialize with their friends after the service, then say, “Sorry, I must run. Lorelei has a Nutcracker rehearsal.” Noelle knew this because that was exactly how Evelyn Herbert, Lynette’s mother, acted when Noelle spent Saturday night with Lynette, and they attended First Baptist Shreveport on Sunday. Madame was Catholic like Tante and Noelle, so they could wear jeans and attend church on Saturday night if they wanted to, which they certainly did not. Tired was tired.

Noelle wanted to smile at Madame Grenier and the stage moms but didn’t. She didn’t like it when Madame tore into her, but watching Madame correct those moms was funny. And Noelle knew that when they complained to the other mothers about what happened, someone was bound to say, “You did what?”

Tante and Noelle loaded up Anabelle, Tante’s pet name for her old Oldsmobile. Anabelle was beginning to show her age because Tante’s house didn’t have a garage, so her car had to sit outside in the heat. The heat from the sun had caused the ceiling upholstery to sag, but Tante had solved that problem by sticking a few upholstery pins into the fabric. Tante always joked that she and Anabelle had to make it through the duration together.

On the way back to Minden, Tante kept looking at Noelle as if she were trying to decide what to say to her. But they were both tired. Noelle was still shocked by what had happened on the catwalk and didn’t want to tell Tante, making her think she was a freak. She wanted to try to leave the ground again before talking to Tante about what happened.

“Do you want to talk about the curtain?” Tante asked.

“Can we wait until we get home? I’m tired.”

“I can see that. So okay, let’s concentrate on getting home. Here’s some news to cheer you up. Delphine Broussard phoned me last night after you were in bed and told me she would bring Felix to the Saturday matinee.”

“Felix hates ballet,” replied Noelle.

“Felix may not like ballet, but he likes you.”

“I like him too. We’re going to get married after we graduate from high school. We’ll live in Minden, and I’ll come to see you every day.”

Tante took a deep breath as though she was thinking about how to reply, “I would love that, but you must go to college, and a lot can happen between now and when you graduate. You could meet someone else; Felix could meet someone else.”

“No, there will never be anyone else. Felix and I are in love.”

“Okay, then. We’ve got that sorted. Delphine also reminded me they are going all out for this year’s New Year’s Day barbecue slash fais-dodo.”

Noelle looked at Tante, started to say something, and then changed her mind.

“What’s wrong? You love Cajun music and dancing and go wild when the band switches to Zydeco. Every time there’s a party in Minden, the toddlers run to you with their arms up, wanting you to pick them up and dance with them. And you couldn't stop laughing and clapping last year when you saw those grandparents dancing in their motorized wheelchairs.”

“It’s just that Lynette asked me if she could spend New Year's Eve and Day with me. Her parents are going to the country club for a New Year’s Eve party and a New Year’s Day golf tournament, and Lynette hates having a babysitter. But everyone except the kids will drink all day at Delphine and Amos’s party, and Lynette’s mother doesn’t approve of drinking. Then Lynette will tell everyone at the ballet about us, and they will make fun of me. And she’ll meet Felix and tell everyone that I have a boyfriend, and they will tease me.”

“Darling, I’m going to teach you what to do when someone tries to make fun of you. You stare them down and say, “So?’

“People in Shreveport don’t have the same kind of parties we do in Minden.”

“No, they don’t, but their parties drown in booze, too; they just aren’t as much fun as Delphine and Amos’s. I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll tell Evelyn that we’re going to the fais-dodo, and if the drinking is a problem, she can take Lynette to the country club with her, where I’m certain there won’t be any alcohol on New Year’s Eve weekend. Hey, it’s hard work being a hypocrite in Louisiana, but Evelyn does her best, bless her heart. And don’t you waste your time telling folks that I said Lynette’s mother’s a hypocrite. Everyone already knows.”

“If Lynette comes, she’ll see a dead pig hanging in a tree, bleeding into a bucket.”

“Delphine told me she knew you were upset about that critter, but if we arrive at noon, she promises Amos will have it outta the tree and onto the spit.”

“But Lynette invited herself, and if she comes, she’ll see a pig roasting with its head still on.”

“Oh, fiddle. Lynette’s welcome to come. It can’t be easy living with that mother of hers. Besides, everyone’s welcome. Delphine and Amos invite the entire town, and everyone brings something. There’ll be enough food to feed General Sherman’s army.”

“I don’t like Lynette, but she won’t leave me alone.”

Tante looked sad for a moment,  “Honey, you’re going to find out that some of your best friends will be folks you didn’t like when you first met them. Hey, I still have friends, where that situation hasn’t improved one bit. Still don’t like ‘em, but some I learned to love.”

“You never go back to New Orleans to see the people you knew when you lived there,” Noelle replied.

“Once I saw how nice living in a small town was, I didn’t want to leave.”

Noelle knew Tante wasn’t telling her the truth about why they never went to New Orleans, and none of her friends from New Orleans came to Minden. Most of the time, Tante treated her like a miniature adult, but Noelle knew that there were parts of Tante’s life that were buried deep. Sometimes, Noelle would see Tante sitting in a chair with a lost look on her face. It didn’t last; when Tante saw her, she’d be Tante again.

Tante was looking at the road when she next spoke. “Something is worrying you, and it isn’t the fais-dodo or Lynette inviting herself to stay with us. When are you going to tell me?”

“Soon, I need to think first.”

“Okay, but don’t wait too long.”

Finally, Tante turned onto the gravel lane that led to their home. Beaumont Knoll was the only home Noelle had ever known. The house was a nineteenth-century, white, clapboard marvel with wraparound verandahs on the first and second stories and a whimsical widow's walk on the third floor that looked out over the surrounding farmland. Noelle loved the second-story verandah outside her bedroom; she kept her French doors open when it wasn't too hot or cold. Too hot was the norm for northern Louisiana, so Tante had bought window units for her bedroom, Noelle's bedroom, the living room, and the kitchen. Armand, Tante’s electrician and all-around handyman, had told Tante that her old house didn't have enough juice for central air, but she could have window units if she didn't run more than two at a time.

But hot or not, Noelle loved Beaumont Knoll and had spent her childhood making up stories about the ghosts that haunted her gothic home, her favorite being a silvery apparition of a woman standing on the widow's walk. The ghosts hovering around her home were a rotating cast of characters, except for the woman who was always with her. Noelle had asked Tante about the ghosts a few years ago, but Tante must have misunderstood her question because she replied that even though the neighbors teased her about owning a haunted house, she had never seen a ghost, so Noelle didn’t need to worry. Noelle never asked again.

Noelle loved her home, but living with Tante and a gaggle of ghosts was different than living with parents, something her friends had, but she’d never known.

Tante was tired, and as soon as she was home, she poured herself a glass of iced tea from the pink plastic pitcher in the Frigidaire, turned on a Law & Order rerun, pushed back in her recliner, and closed her eyes. As soon as Noelle saw that Tante was out, she ran down the porch stairs to the woods surrounding the house.

Noelle was now free to run to the meadow without listening to Tante Madeline fretting about chiggers and snakes or asking questions about strange happenings with purple velvet curtains. Noelle was going to the field to figure out exactly what she did today before she flew.

It was warm for early December in Louisiana, so Noelle was still in the short-sleeved T-shirt over her leotard and gym shorts over the pink tights she had worn to rehearsal. She ran through the woods and jumped across the small spring-fed creek that separated her home from the meadow.

The meadow was the only piece of land Tante owned that wasn’t leased to a local farmer. Tante couldn’t rent it out because a few dratted cat tails grew in the field, making it a wetland; fertilizer runoff or cow droppings would pollute the groundwater if the meadow were used for planting or grazing. But except for the creek separating the meadow from Tante’s home, the land was mostly dry, with plenty of swamp-loving bald cypress trees for visiting birds and a small marshland for the vacationing geese.

When she reached the meadow, Noelle tried to dance, but a field in Louisiana wasn't the best place to practice ballet, especially wearing sneakers. Her feet snagged on dead grass, or she stumbled on a stone whenever she tried to dance.

But Noelle needed to do the same thing she had done on the catwalk to figure out what had happened so she could tell Tante. She remembered making a wish just before she rose. So, Noelle closed her eyes and wished she could dance like the Snow Queen. She imagined she was wearing the Snow Queen's silvery white tutu. Hearing the orchestra playing in the distance, she placed her body in the correct position and began turning with her eyes closed. The rocks and uneven terrain disappeared as she balanced and twirled. Noelle was floating in a fantasy world when she opened her eyes and saw that she was two feet off the ground, flying across the meadow.

The sun was setting, bathing the meadow in pink magic. Noelle closed her eyes again and began another series of pirouettes. She flew above the field, dancing without the pull of gravity. Noelle opened her eyes again and saw she was over eight feet above the ground when she hit a tree and floated back down. But landing softly didn't mean she wasn't hurt. Noelle sat on the ground, horrified by the scratches on her arms, legs, and chest from her collision with the needles and branches of a bald cypress tree. Blood was even seeping through the knees of her tights. This Thursday was the opening night of The Nutcracker, and she looked like she'd been wrangling barn cats. Her pink tights would cover the scratches on her legs, but the cuts on her arms and shoulders would show when she wore her tutu for "The Waltz of the Snowflakes." Noelle felt something wet on her cheek, and when she touched it, she saw blood on her hand. Oh no! Madame Grenier was going to be so mad.

Noelle cried as she ran home. She raced into the house and ran to her aunt, sobbing, "I fell, and I'm going to have scabs all over my body; I'll be ugly, and Madame Grenier will take away my part in 'The Waltz of the Snowflakes.’"

Tante Madeline sat up in her recliner. "Oh no, darling. How did that happen?"

"I fell into a tree!" Noelle sobbed.

"You fell into a tree! How in God's green acres did that happen?"

"I was dancing in the meadow, and I closed my eyes. It was so beautiful, and then I hit a tree and fell to the ground."

"But how in Hades did you hit a tree and fall while you were dancing?"

Noelle stopped crying and gave her aunt a terrified look. "I don't know."

Tante Madeline carefully looked at Noelle before she spoke, “Honey, you do know, and you need to tell me."

"What?" Noelle's voice was shaking.

Tante turned off the television. "It's OK. Let's go upstairs to the bathroom to clean you up, and you can tell me what happened just before you hit that bad old tree."

Noelle stood in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, as her aunt gently covered her scrapes with antibiotic ointment. "They won't look too bad; your cuts don't need bandaging. You may have some scabs on opening night, but they should be healed enough that I can cover them with pancake makeup.”

"You're sure?”

"Of course, I'm sure. My old Max Factor cake could hide your nose. Now, tell me what happened."

Noelle took a breath and spit it out. "I was bad. You were asleep, so I ran to the woods to dance in the meadow. I wanted to dance like the Snow Queen in 'The Waltz of the Snowflakes.' But I couldn't because I kept tripping on rocks. So, I closed my eyes and wished I could dance when I heard the orchestra playing in the meadow, and suddenly, I could. I left the ground and flew across the meadow, but the more I danced, the higher I flew, and then a tree hit me and knocked me down.”

“Is that what happened today on the catwalk?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t supposed to be up there, and I don’t know how I hit the curtain. Do you know what happened? Am I going crazy?"

"No, sweetheart, you aren't crazy."

"But I’m flying."

"I know you are, and I'm sorry you were surprised when it happened. I had hoped… but that doesn't matter now. You flew, so we need to deal."

"You know why I can fly?"

"Yes, darling, I do. Let's go downstairs to the kitchen, and I will put on a pot of tea and tell you a story."

Noelle put on her pink chenille bathrobe and matching bunny slippers and climbed down the white-washed stairway to the kitchen, where Tante put her copper tea kettle on the stove, lit the burner, and began making ham and cheese sandwiches. Noelle plopped down on a mint green vinyl dinette chair, propping her elbows on the white Formica kitchen table to rest her head as Tante Madeline opened a bag of potato chips and placed it in the middle of the table, “This isn't very elegant, but we had a long day, and I don't have what it takes to look for that orange Tupperware thingy."

Noelle got back up and hugged her aunt. "Thank you for not getting mad at me for sneaking out and getting hurt and not telling you about the curtain."

"Even though you’re the world’s best girl, you can’t always be perfect. Why, even I have difficulty with that. And if you’re going to fly, it’s good it happened today. No one except me suspected that you had anything to do with the bulging curtains, and only we go to the field, so no one could have seen you.” Tante Madeline put Earl Grey tea bags into two of her Aynsley Floating Roses teacups, poured the now boiling water over the bags, grabbed two mismatched sterling silver teaspoons from the silverware drawer, placed the Fostoria sugar bowl on the kitchen table, and took a deep breath. “What I’m about to say is the most important thing I will ever tell you. But before we talk about flying, I must tell you who you are. You’re eight years old and mature for your age, so when I ask you to keep this secret, you will. Won’t you?”

“I can keep a secret. I’m no baby,” Noelle replied.

“OK then. I love you to the moon and back, but you need to know that you’re my  great-niece, not through blood, but by love.”

“I’m not related to your family?”

“No, darling, you’re so much more. You’re my heart. But where do I start? You know I’m your guardian and have legal custody of you. I’ve always said my sister was your grandmother and her daughter your mother. And that my sister, her daughter, and her daughter’s husband died in an automobile accident in South America, making you an orphan. But none of that is true; I’m an only child and never had a sister or a niece. But no one in Minden knows anything about my branch of the family. I unexpectedly inherited this house from my mother’s cousin, who left it to me when she died. I was the tertiary beneficiary, but who’s counting? I own the house and the surrounding fields, which provide our income, so here we are.”

“But the upshot is that I’d never been to Minden before moving here two years before you became my ward. And inheriting this house was my lucky day, and yours too, since I will leave you the house and the land around it when I fly away to dance in the stars.”

“But if my mother wasn’t your niece, who was she?”

“I’m getting there. When I’m done with the telling, you’ll know who your parents were and what happened to them. And you must know about your heritage now that you’ve discovered you can fly.”

“Are my real parents dead like my make-believe parents were?” Noelle’s eyes filled with tears.

“Yes, darling, they are.”

“How? How?”

“I will tell you everything. Your parents are gone, but before they left our world, your mother brought you to me late one night and asked me to take care of you. You were a baby, and I promised your mother I would guard you with my life, and I have and always will. That was eight years ago, but the story began twenty years ago when I lived in New Orleans and taught ballet.”