Chapter 3: Hounsis Canzo, Servant at the Altar

We were both very quiet on the flight home. For most of the flight Jasmine gripped my hand so tightly that my fingers were turning white, while her other hand never left her belly, either stroking it or simply resting on top of it. I still can’t explain it, or even believe it myself, but I could “feel” the energy flowing through Jasmine.

I wish I had an explanation for how we apparently traveled back to Jacienthe’s time, but it remains just as much a mystery as when I first met her.

I was also troubled by Jacienthe’s prediction. Great evil? Our daughter wasn’t even born yet, an innocent child; how could she have anything to do with anything evil?

All four of our parents were waiting for us, along with Granny, who was wearing an all-knowing smile, which frankly unnerved me a little bit.

For the nine months of Jasmine’s pregnancy, Granny was a nearly constant presence in our lives. I often saw her in whispered conversations with Jasmine, along with furtive looks towards me from Jasmine. Jasmine was making notes in her little book. I wished I knew what she was writing, but if she wasn’t holding it tight, it was hidden somewhere, and I wasn’t concerned enough to invade her privacy by searching for it.

It seemed like there were always candles burning in our house, and an under-current of chanting. It was sub-audible, and no matter how intently I listened, I couldn’t find the source.

Jasmine had taken to wearing a small pendant that seemed to be made from a piece of the crystal.

“Jasmine,” I asked, “where did that pendant come from?”

She looked nervous for some reason. It didn’t make sense; it was just a piece of cheap jewelry; or was it?

“It ... It was just a gift from Granny,” she said as she fingered it nervously. I saw no reason to doubt her, but why the nervousness, why all the mystery?

As I said, Granny was a frequent visitor. She seemed to come and go at will, with no apparent means of transportation, and neither she nor Jasmine would give me a straight answer.

Jasmine insisted that she wanted a home birth, over both my and her doctor’s objections. Her doctor assisted me with making the proper preparations and gave me a list of licensed midwives, but Jasmine never contacted them.

When Jasmine’s water broke, I was in a panic. Since Jasmine had never arranged for a midwife, that option was out, and I hadn’t prepared anything for going to the hospital. I thought Jasmine was getting ready to go, and opened the front door to get the car, and there was Granny, standing there with her ubiquitous bag.

She pushed past me and went to the bedroom. Jasmine was still in bed with her nightgown pulled up to her waist and her knees bent and spread apart. Granny pulled out the candlestick, put a white candle on it, lit it and placed it by the bed. She was chanting and waving incense around while Jasmine was alternately panting and moaning.

Just as I was picking up my phone to dial 911, Granny knelt between Jasmine’s legs, and with seemingly no effort, Jasmine gave a push and our baby girl was born!

Granny handed me scissors to cut the cord, cleaned everything up and handed me our daughter.

“Isobet,” Granny said.

“Isobet,” I sighed as I looked lovingly into my daughter’s magical eyes.

Isobet made a soft cry, and I handed her to Jasmine.

Jasmine gazed at her for a moment, kissed her on her forehead, then lowered the left side of her nightgown, exposing her milk-filled breast and thick nipple. She had already removed her piercings in preparation for this day. She lowered Isobet to her breast, and the baby immediately latched onto the nipple and started sucking.

Jasmine had a look of sheer bliss on her face, and it seemed to take a great effort for her to turn her face to look at me.

“Thank you, James,” she whispered.

“Why are you thanking me? You did all the work. I should be thanking you.”

“I couldn’t, I wouldn’t do this without you, James. This is a blessed day.”

I had nothing to say. I just lay on the bed, taking my wife and daughter in my arms. Jasmine and I soon dozed off, Isobet happily nursing, until her small cry told us that it was time for Jasmine to move her to the right breast.

We never even noticed Granny leave.

Every parent is aware of what the next couple of years were like. It was many late nights, dirty diapers and family coming and going.

For once, I was grateful for Granny’s near constant presence in our lives. It seemed that whenever Isobet was fussy, all it took was Granny stroking her head, whispering to her, or gently rocking her to get her smiling and giggling again.

Even Granny couldn’t spare us the “Terrible Twos,” but from what I understand from talking to other parents, we were apparently spared the worst.

As soon as Isobet could walk and talk she was a real “Daddy’s Girl,” following me around, copying, or trying to copy, everything I did. The first and only time I tried to go sailing and left her and Jasmine on the dock, she wailed so piteously that I had to go back and hold her while Jasmine took the boat out.

When she started learning to read, I got her children’s books about boats, but she was only interested in the books with sailboats.

“Wanna go sailing, Daddy!” she would say.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie, but you’re too little, it isn’t safe.”

“No! Wanna go sailing!” she said, stomping her little foot.

“As soon as you’re big enough we’ll go sailing,” I said to her.

“Promise?” she said with a stern look on her face and her arms crossed.

I made a big show out of crossing my heart.

“Cross my heart.”

That mollified her for a time, but for the next year the only time I could sail was when she was with the grandparents, and I couldn’t really enjoy it, I felt like was cheating on her.

It was with great relief when I walked into her room with my arm fairly obviously hiding something behind my back.

“Whatcha got, Daddy?”

“What makes you think I have anything?” I asked, hoping I was successful in putting an innocent look on my face.

She didn’t say anything, she just tried to get behind me as I kept twisting away until she flounced over to her bed and sat down pouting.

I took pity on her and pulled the tiny orange life jacket out from behind me.

“What’s that, Daddy?”

“It’s called a life jacket.”

“What’s that for?”

“It’s for little girls to wear in case they fall in the water.”

“That’s silly,” she said, “I go in the water all the time.”

“Yes, but you’ve never been in the river.”

“But ... But...” she sputtered until a light went on behind her eyes, and she launched herself into my arms.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you! Can we go sailing tomorrow?”

“Daddy has to work tomorrow, but we’ll all go sailing Saturday.”

“No, just you and me. Mommy can go sailing anytime.”

“Okay, Isobet, just you and me. I’m sure Mommy can find something to do.”

I thought she might be too excited to go to sleep, but maybe she was anxious to dream of sailing, because she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Isobet was suspiciously quiet on Friday, but right at the crack of dawn Saturday she came bounding into our bedroom, bouncing on our bed.

“Sailing, Daddy, sailing!” she said over and over, until I grabbed her and started tickling her.

“Isobet, it’s too early, we have to have breakfast first...”

Her face drooped.

“ ... besides, the sailing center isn’t even open yet.”

That seemed to satisfy her and she ran off.

“Looks like you created a monster,” Jasmine said smiling.

I could only shrug and went to shower.

Entering the kitchen, I saw Isobet already sitting at the table with her cereal bowl in front of her, wearing her little life jacket.

I put a pod in the Keurig, got my coffee going, poured some Cheerios into her bowl and got one for myself. We had been strict about avoiding the sugary cereals, and Isobet never put up a struggle.

My coffee was already in a travel mug, and as soon as we had eaten, we took off. Even on a Saturday morning, Boston traffic could be problematic.

As soon as Community Boating came in sight, Isobet was bouncing in her seat and I had to keep a firm grip on her wrist to keep her from running down to the dock while I signed out a Mercury.

She showed a little nervousness when the boat rocked as I got on board, but had gotten over it by the time I lifted her aboard.

As we drifted away from the dock and caught some wind, a look of fascination and joy came over her face, and it was only when her need to pee became urgent could I convince her to let me return to the dock.

We sailed often, and as she got older, she would “help” me sail. Jasmine rarely joined us. “Daddy time!” Isobet would say.

Here’s a typical sail with Jasmine.

“Isobet, come sit with Mommy,” Jasmine would say.

“NO! Daddy needs me,” Isobet would say while tugging on a line, or nudging the rudder.

Jasmine’s eyes would glisten a bit as a sad smile crossed her lips. While I felt sorry for her, I reveled in my father-daughter time. I knew it wouldn’t last, though I would work to make it last as long as possible.

It was when Isobet turned nine that things began to slowly change. Granny visited more often, and spent most of her time with Isobet, sometimes with Jasmine, sometimes not. When Jasmine was there, she was frantically writing things in her book, as if she was on a deadline.

One beautiful Saturday morning I went to Isobet’s room.

“It’s going to be a great day for sailing, why don’t you get changed and we’ll go out on the boat for a bit?”

“I can’t. Granny’s coming today.”

I was a little irritated.

“You’ve been spending almost every Saturday with Granny! We haven’t been sailing in weeks. You can see her when we get back.”

I could see her look over my shoulder, and turned to see Jasmine standing there.

“Well,” I said, “are you going to back me up here?”

“James, Granny’s instruction is important...”

“Is it so important that it can’t wait a few hours?”

“N ... No, I guess not. I’ll explain to Granny when she gets here.”

“You do that. You “explain” to Granny that spending time with her father is just as important for Isobet as Granny’s instruction.”

I went to get my gear together, pushing by Jasmine, not feeling a lot of satisfaction with my victory.

Isobet was much quieter than usual, with none of the excited chatter that I was used to on our rides to the sailing center.

Even when I asked her if she wanted to take the rudder, she declined, just sat there with her hand drifting in the water, as her eyes stared into space. I was maybe losing my daughter, but not without a fight.

“Isobet, something’s bothering you. Why don’t you tell me, maybe I can help.”

She looked like she had just seen a ghost, and shuddered, so I reached for her and pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Sweetie, we don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, but remember that I’m always here for you, and you can talk to me about anything.”

She just nodded and gave a little sniffle, and was soon getting into the sail.

Granny was already there when we got home, giving me a stern look, but saying nothing

As usual, they sat in a quiet corner, usually in semi-darkness, always with Granny’s candlestick, though the color changed from time to time; sometimes white, sometimes red, sometimes black, though that was rare.

Occasionally I’d hear the eerie sounds of the singing bowl or hear quiet chanting.

“Jasmine,” I asked, “What’s going on with Isobet and Granny?”

She looked around, wringing her hands nervously.

“N ... Nothing, James.”

“Come on, Jasmine, I may be a fool, but I’m not an idiot. Isobet was very frightened about something on our sail this morning, but I couldn’t get her to talk to me. There’s something going on, and for some reason you’re keeping it from me. I need you to tell me now.”

Jasmine looked around nervously again.

“Granny’s just teaching Isobet about some of our traditions, James,” she said. “I know you’re not entirely comfortable with them, that you think they’re silly superstitions.”

“That may be, but you obviously feel that they’re important, and that makes them important to me. As long as we’re on the subject, just what are you writing in that book?

Jasmine turned pale.

“Nothing, James. Granny is just passing on some family lore, and I want to make sure I don’t forget anything.”

“That sounds interesting. You know I like history, and after my ... our experiences in Haiti, I think it should be fascinating.”

Jasmine turned even paler, if that was possible.

“N ... No, James, it’s really kind of boring.”

“Well, you seem to find it all pretty fascinating, why not let me decide for myself?” I said, reaching for the book.

Jasmine had a look of panic in her eyes as she jumped up and ran from the room.

I wasn’t entirely sure that I was getting the whole story, but decided that it wasn’t worth fighting over and let the matter drop.

The only trouble we had with Isobet was an incident when she came home crying. It turned out that a group of older girls had been bullying her due to her mixed parentage.

Jasmine, true to her nature, tried to comfort Isobet, trying to reassure her that everything would be all right. I, on the other hand took a more proactive approach.

“Isobet,” I said after Jasmine left the room, “people aren’t always nice, and sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, or they’ll walk all over you.”

“But, Daddy, there are more of them than me, and they’re all bigger than me. I don’t know what I can do.”

“You’re a smart girl, Isobet, I’m sure you’ll think of something, right?”

She gave me a nervous nod, and I left the room feeling pretty proud of myself.

A few days later I had the afternoon off, and Isobet came home from school skipping and wearing a big smile.

“There’s my smiley girl,” I said, “No more problems with bullies?”

“No, Daddy, I took your advice. I don’t think anyone will be bothering me again.”

“That’s wonderful, Sweetheart. I’m very proud of you for handling it yourself.”

With that, Isobet went off to her room, and I basked in the glow of my superior parenting skills. That lasted just about as long as it took to help Jasmine bring in the groceries.

We were putting everything away when Jasmine casually told me about an encounter she had at the market with Isobet’s teacher.

“I ran into Mrs. Owens at Stop and Shop today, and asked her how Isobet was dealing with her bully problem.

“She said that it was very strange. None of the older girls were in school today. When the school checked, it seems that each girl had all of her hair fall out and had bad cases of acne break out.”

I felt a cold chill run through me.

“James, are you all right?” Jasmine asked.

I gave myself a shake.

“Y ... Yes, yes,” I said. “Could you please excuse me for a minute?”

“Of course,” she said with a wink. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I strode into Isobet’s room and closed the door. From the look on her face I was sure of the direction this conversation would take, but I had to go through the process.

“Isobet, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about some girls in your school losing their hair, do you?”

She looked down at the floor while one leg swung nervously.

“N ... No, not really,” she said, not very convincingly.

“Harumph,” I said. I decided that I had learned all that I needed to know from Isobet for now, that there was no need to torment her. Granny, and maybe Jasmine were another matter.

I decided to confront Jasmine.

“Jasmine, I need you to tell me more about the “traditions” that Granny has been teaching Isobet.”

She seemed nervous.

“I ... don’t know what you’re talking about, James.”

“Come on, Jasmine, I was born at night, but not last night. You forget that I know a little bit about Granny’s charms. I haven’t forgotten about Fred’s rooster and how you “knew” you were pregnant.”

Jasmine turned a little pale.

“Do you think that Granny’s teaching Isobet might have had something to do with what happened to Isobet’s classmates?”

Before she looked away, I could see tears forming in Jasmine’s eyes.

“When we were with Jacienthe,” I said, “she said that our child was destined for greatness, but that if it was great good or great evil, was up to us. Now, in the big scheme of things a few cases of acne and hair loss is pretty low on the evil scale, but I hope you agree that this isn’t the kind of use of whatever powers she might have that we want to encourage?”

“Yes, James, I understand.”

“Well, if that is settled, then maybe we should go and have a little chat with Isobet, and maybe we need to have a talk with Granny, also.”

“No, James, no! Can’t we leave Granny out of this?”

“Out of this? She’s been in this since before Isobet was even born. She gave you that charm to get pregnant. She sent us to Haiti to see Jacienthe. She’s in this up to her eyeballs, and it’s high time we set some ground rules before the villagers surround our house with pitchforks and torches.”

Jasmine started to smile until she saw the stern look on my face.

“All right, James, I’ll talk to Granny...”

“No, WE’LL talk to Granny, I want to make sure that we’re on the same page and that there’s no misunderstandings.”

Together we knocked on Isobet’s door and entered her bedroom. Isobet was sitting on her bed, looking nervously back and forth as we sat beside her on the bed, each of us taking a hand.

“Isobet.” I said, “I’m going to ask you again. Did you have anything to do with what happened to your classmates?”

She looked nervously at Jasmine, who nodded at her.

“Y ... Yes, I guess I did.”

“You “guess” you did? Just what did you do?”

“Well, Granny showed me...”

She hesitated as she saw my face turning red.

“Go ahead,” I said with a sigh.

“Granny showed me how to cast a spell...”

“Charm,” Jasmine interrupted.

“Right, she showed me how to make a charm to punish people who were mean to me.”

I still wasn’t entirely sure how much I believed in all this “charm” stuff, but I couldn’t ignore the evidence in front of me.

“Isobet,” Jasmine said gently, “charms are powerful magic, they should be used wisely, not carelessly.”

“But Granny said...”

“I don’t care what Granny said,” I said, maybe with more anger than I intended as tears began to form in Isobet’s eyes.

I knelt in front of Isobet and took her hands in mine as Jasmine rubbed her back,

“Sweetie, I know it can be hard sometimes, especially when you’re outnumbered and don’t know what else to do. But many kids have problems, and have to learn to deal with them on their own. Do you understand?”

“I ... I think so, but what can I do? They’re all bigger than me, and there’s more of them anyway.”

“I’m not saying that you should fight them. Maybe you can just ignore them, or even just laugh at them. Show them that their words can’t hurt you.”

“But their words do hurt me, Daddy!” she sniffled.

“I know that, and you know that, but you don’t have to let them know that. When they see that they can’t get a reaction out of you they’ll get bored and look for another target.”

“That’s okay for me, Daddy, but then they’ll just pick on somebody else. That’s not fair!”

It was time for some real-world education.

“Honey, sometimes life isn’t fair. If you really want to help, you should tell your teachers. It’s their job to take care of things like that.”

“But that would be tattling!”

“Which is worse, tattling or letting bullies pick on other kids?” I asked.

Her brow was furrowed as she was deep in thought.

“I guess you’re right, Daddy,” she said, “I just wish that there was some other way.”

“You’re a smart kid, Isobet, I’m sure you’ll think of something, I said as I tousled her hair and gave her a big hug.

As Isobet ran off to do whatever little girls do, Jasmine gave me a big hug.

“Just when did you get so smart, James?” she asked.

“I think it was when I asked you out.”

“Good answer!” she said.

“Well, that was the easy part,” I said, “Now we have to talk to Granny.”

Jasmine looked frightened.

“Do we have to, James? I think you have Isobet straightened out.”

“Yes, for now, but I want to make sure that Granny understands that there are some ground rules that have to be respected.”

I could tell that Jasmine wanted to argue the point, but one look at my face told her it would be futile.

We left Isobet with my parents, and drove to Jasmine’s parents for a sit-down with Granny.

Jasmine was obviously nervous the whole drive, but refused to tell me what was bothering her.

After the social niceties were out of the way, I asked Jasmine’s parents if we could have some time alone with Granny. They exchanged some puzzled looks but agreed, and left the room.

You could have cut the tension with a knife as Granny just sat there, looking very pleased with herself, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

I decided that I would have to take the bull by the horns.

“Granny,” I said, “I suppose you know something about what Isobet did?”

She just gave a knowing smile and nodded.

“Granny, we can’t allow this sort of thing. It could be dangerous, who knows what the repercussions might be.”

“It is necessary,” was all that she said.

I was flabbergasted.

“How can it be “necessary” to make kids lose their hair and break out?”

“No, no, not that,” she said, “but there is a great danger, a great evil coming, and Isobet must be ready, she must be trained to use her power.”

“Her power? She’s only nine years old!”

“Yes, she’s only nine years old now, but the evil is out there, it grows stronger every day. Isobet must learn, must grow, she must be ready.”

I was at a loss. Despite all that I had seen, what I had been through, my logical mind just couldn’t buy into all of the superstition, yet I couldn’t ignore it either.

It was obvious that arguing with Granny would be a waste of time, especially with Jasmine at least tacitly agreeing with her.

Life went on, with no more apparent “charms,” but maybe I just wasn’t aware. Like many men, I could be pretty clueless if something didn’t directly affect me.

I got used to the smell of incense and the many candles burning throughout the house. Granny’s presence barely registered, she was at our house so much. If Jasmine’s parents missed her company, they never said anything.

Shortly after her thirteenth birthday, Isobet came into my office, softly closing the door behind her, which was unusual.

“Daddy, can we talk?”

“Of course we can, Honey, you can talk to me about anything.”

I don’t know what she was expecting to see, but she looked over her shoulder nervously.

“I know, but I’m not supposed to talk about this.”

Right away I knew: Granny!

“Isobet, I don’t know what Granny has told you, but I’m your father, and I love you. There’s nothing we can’t talk about.”

I could see her shiver and peek over her shoulder again.

“Okay, Daddy, but you have to promise not to say anything to anyone, especially Granny.”

Granny was really getting on my last nerve.

‘Honey, I’ll try, but I’m your father, it’s my job to protect you. I can’t promise to remain silent if I feel that you’re in danger.

She thought about it for a few minutes, then she seemed to come to a decision and sat up a little straighter.

“I think you know a little about what Granny’s training me for,” she said.