Bayou My Love: A Novel (18 page)

I
pressed the button on top and saw it was text messages. The first said,
miss
you baby, wish you were here.
I flushed, thinking about how his hands had
roamed over my body the day before. Try as I might to deny it, something about
that man made me want more than a casual fling. I scrolled down.

I
think about u all the time
, the second said. I grinned.

The
third said,
Want to know what i’m thinking right now?

He
must have borrowed a friend’s phone. I quickly typed back,
Do tell.

I
stared at the screen, waiting. Then it buzzed.
Why don’t u come here and
i’ll show u.

“If
only,” I said, and typed,
Somehow I don’t think the fellas would like that.

The
screen lit up.
Fk em. I need you more.

I
stared for a minute.

Don’t
make me start without u baby,
it said.

I
liked Jack’s naughty side. An image of us in the firehouse flashed through my
mind. My heart beat faster.

U
have a fire that needs putting out?
I typed.

There
was an agonizing pause. Such a tease, this man.

Come
see 4 yrself
,
it said.

No
fair getting me all riled up,
I typed
, when you can’t put yr hands all
over me.

Come
over,
it
said.
I’ll put them anywhere u want.

My
skin tingled from the memory of his touch. Before I could answer, it buzzed
again.
R u hard yet? Better get over here b4 u miss all the fun.

I
stared for a moment, confused. Then I felt sick.

The
phone buzzed again.
Come rescue me
, it said.

I
started to type again, and then stopped and touched the “call” button.

“Hey,
baby,” a woman’s voice said. “I knew you missed me.”

My
throat tightened.

“I
hope you’re on your way over,” she said.

It
was Miranda. I was sure of it.

“Jack?”
she said. “Are you there?”

I
hung up, feeling like someone had punched me in the gut. What if she came over
here looking for him? Could I call the police and have them arrest her?

The
phone rang, and I pushed it across the table. I couldn’t stay here. I didn’t
want to find out what Miranda would do next. Jack would be at the station two
more nights. One more full day. If I called him, he’d insist on coming home. If
he didn’t, he’d worry himself sick all night, and if he was called out to a
fire, he didn’t need to be thinking about me.

I
should have been able to handle this on my own—especially since I’d gotten
myself into this mess by answering those stupid texts. Pretending to be naughty
never got me anywhere. Ever.

The
phone buzzed with another text, and I picked it up, my hand shaking.

Wtf??
it said.

It
rang again, and I tossed it into the sink and grabbed my keys. I didn’t know
where to go, but I couldn’t stay in the house. Outside, the air was still like
the inside of an oven. I climbed into the Jeep and rolled the windows down. The
tires squealed as I punched the gas, grinding my way down the drive. I turned
onto the two lane highway, heading south toward New Orleans. I passed a couple
of the local restaurants and the bar where I’d had that run-in with Remy. With
my luck, if I walked into any place that was open around here, I’d walk right
into Miranda. Or worse, Remy. That was the thing about small towns—you couldn’t
avoid people when you needed to.

Then
I thought of Josie and Buck, and turned the Jeep around.

~~~~

I
stood at their front door, my stomach in a knot. When I rang the bell, Josie
answered.

“Enza,”
she said. “What a surprise. Come on in.”

“I’m
sorry to show up unexpected, but I’m sort of in a predicament,” I said,
following her inside.

“Is
Jack OK?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Oh!
Yes. Sorry. He’s fine, but I’ve got this situation where I don’t—I can’t be
alone at the house tonight, and Jack’s at the station. I hate to ask, but is
there any way I could stay with you?”

“Of
course you can, sweetie.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders just as Buck
walked in.

“Is
there something we can do?” she asked. “Jack said y’all had trouble with the
roof.”

I
shook my head, feeling like I might cry at any second—partly from fear and
embarrassment and partly from relief.

“Everything
OK, Enza?” Buck asked.

Josie
told him what I’d said. She looked more serious, like she knew this had nothing
to do with troublesome repairs. “Come on upstairs,” she said to me. “We’ll get
you situated in the spare room.”

“What’s
the kid done now?” Buck asked.

“Hush,”
Josie told him, turning me toward the stairs.

The
spare room was cozy, painted pale green with light wood trim. It was filled
with antique furniture, most notably an old trunk with leather straps. I made a
mental note to ask her later where she’d found such a piece. A double bed was
made up with a patchwork quilt, a framed print of Audubon’s blue herons hanging
over the headboard.

Josie
pointed out the bathroom, then opened the dresser drawer and pulled out an
oversize T-shirt. “You can sleep in this, and I’ll get you a toothbrush.”

“Thank
you so much,” I said, giving her a hug. Her perfume smelled like lily of the
valley.

“Oh,
honey,” she said, patting my back. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

She
didn’t ask any questions, and part of me hated to confess that I’d been
careless. There was no way to explain it that didn’t involve Jack. And it
didn’t seem right to tell them this had to do with Miranda. Whether they knew
about her or not, I had no business talking about Jack’s ex-girlfriends.

Still,
I felt bad being so mysterious. It was bound to make them think things were
much worse than they were.

“Why
don’t you come downstairs and let me make you a toddy,” Josie said. “I’ve got
six kinds of Kentucky bourbon, and every one of them will knock you out like a
hammer.”

Chapter
14

The
smell of coffee and butter woke me up, and I felt completely disoriented. It
took me a full minute to realize I wasn’t in North Carolina, and I wasn’t at
Vergie’s either. A thick curtain covered the tiny window, making it impossible
to judge the time by the light in the room. When I drew the drapes, the
brightness surprised me. I threw my clothes on and went down to the kitchen.

“Hey,
sunshine,” Buck said. “Sleep well?” He was frying bacon and sausage, and
sipping a glass of orange juice.

“Like
a brick. Josie was right about the toddy.”

Josie
turned from her scrambled eggs. “Morning, hon. We’re just about ready here.
Help yourself to coffee.”

I
poured myself a cup and sat at the table, watching them reach over each other,
seamlessly making breakfast together. I felt bad for not telling them what was
going on, but how could I?

Josie
brought two plates to the table and sat next to me. Buck followed with a tray
of biscuits.

“Jack
called a little while ago,” Josie said to me. “He asked you to call him back at
the station. He said not to wake you.”

“How’d
he know I was here?”

“Said
he couldn’t get you on his cell,” Josie said. “He asked Buck to go check on
you, but we told him you were here.”

“You
told him I was OK?”

“Yes,
but he was worried. He wanted to know what happened to make you come over.”

“Not
that we aren’t pleased to have the company,” Buck said.

I
smiled. “It seems silly this morning.”

They
looked at me, curious. I tore into a biscuit and said, “What do y’all know
about voodoo?”

They
listened as I told them about all the things we’d found in the yard. I left out
the part about Miranda and the casserole, but I told them I’d seen someone
skulking around the house and that the tires on my Jeep had been slashed.

“Who
in the world would do such a thing?” Josie said.

Buck
raised his eyebrows.

“It
came to a head last night,” I said. “The more I thought about it, the more
nervous I was about staying there alone. But it’s probably nothing. I shouldn’t
have bothered you.”

“Doesn’t
sound like nothing to me,” Buck said. “I don’t put much stock in voodoo, but
hoodlums are a different story.”

“Nonsense,”
Josie said. “It’s no bother. You’ll stay here until Jack’s off duty.”

“Oh
no. I’ll go home today. I’ll be fine.”

“I
insist,” Josie said. “You can help me make the bourbon balls for the Daughters
of the American Revolution luncheon tomorrow. It’d help me out tremendously,
since Buck’s way of helping is to taste them until there’s none left.”

Thinking
of going back to Vergie’s made my heart thump so hard I felt it in my ears. The
workaholic part of me was screaming to get my lazy ass back to the house and
get back on task. But another part of me, the part that couldn’t forget
Miranda’s breathy voice and unwanted house calls, insisted it was smarter to
stay away. I wasn’t exactly afraid of Miranda, but I’d prefer to not be at the
house alone if she felt the need to stop by.

“I’d
be happy to,” I told Josie. “I’ve never made bourbon balls.”

“Oh,
your world’s about to change,” she said. “Just wait and see.” She slid a plate
of eggs and sausage in front of me. “Now have some breakfast and fortify
yourself. This is serious business we’re getting into.”

~~~~

I
called the station, hoping Jack wouldn’t be able to talk and I could leave a
message. But the guy who answered called out for him, and Jack picked up,
breathless.

“What’s
happened?” he asked. “Are you OK?”

“I’m
fine. I just freaked out. It was nothing.”

There
was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Obviously
it’s not nothing.”

“I’ll
tell you everything when you get home.”

“Tell
me now.”

“Jack,”
I said, trying to keep my voice down, “it’s fine, really. I’m staying at Josie
and Buck’s tonight, and I’m good.”

“Tonight
too? Enza, tell me what happened.”

“Miranda
sent some texts, and it just rattled me. That’s all.”

“What?”
His voice was louder. “Did she come over there?”

“No,
but I thought she might, so I came here.” I peeked into the kitchen. “Listen, I
have to go make bourbon balls for the DAR luncheon. Break a leg, and I’ll see
you tomorrow.”

“Say
what?”

I
hung up quickly, despite his protests.

Josie
poked her head around the corner, holding a bottle of bourbon in one hand and
another frilly apron in the other. “Hey,” she said. “You ready to get this show
on the road?”

“Absolutely.”

As
it turned out, bourbon balls were the most miraculous thing I’d ever seen made
in a kitchen. I followed Buck’s method, which was to taste and re-taste. We had
to make several extra batches because of all our sampling, but also because
Josie said Jack would throw the tantrum from hell if I didn’t take some back
for him. By dinner time we had every cookie tin and plastic container in the
kitchen filled with bourbon balls.

“You
know,” Josie said, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s great to see you fixing up
Vergie’s house. It’s good for Jack too.”

I
wasn’t sure what he’d told her about our arrangement and if she knew the house
was going on the market.

“He’s
been a huge help,” I said. “Just about everything that could have gone wrong
has. I’m lucky he’s here.”

“He’s
good that way. He’s a fixer, he is.” She smiled a knowing smile. “He’s lucky
too, though. He’d given up on finding a nice gal.”

I
didn’t know what to say to that, so I blurted, “Oh, we’re just friends.”

She
raised an eyebrow.

“I
mean, Jack’s great,” I added. “But we’ve just got a business arrangement.”

She
smiled again, like she didn’t believe that for a minute.

~~~~

When
I left the next morning, bourbon balls in tow, Josie said, “Now you come back
anytime, hon. With or without Jack.”

I
thanked them again and then drove to the next town to pick up a new cell phone.
My father had probably left an array of messages ranging from curious to
wrathful, but I couldn’t blame him too much since this was technically his
money I was spending. When I turned the phone on, I expected it to light up
with voicemails—weren’t these things saved in a cloud somewhere?—but there was
nothing.

No
messages.

No
checking up on me.

Maybe
he was starting to get it.

When
I pulled into the drive, I was surprised to see Jack’s truck parked under the
oak tree by the house. It was barely noon.

Inside,
he was making pasta.

“You’re
back early,” I said.

“You,
my dear, scared me to death.”

“I
have bourbon balls,” I said, holding out the tin.

He
looked at me skeptically, then turned back to the pasta. “Are you going to tell
me what happened?”

I’d
really hoped to avoid the Miranda conversation. “Try one,” I said, opening the
tin. “These have orange liqueur.”

“You
can’t distract me with boozy truffles. I was worried about you.”

“Sorry,”
I said, sitting down at the table. “I didn’t want to get into details when I
was with Josie and Buck. I didn’t know how much they knew about the Miranda
situation.”

“What
is the Miranda situation? What’s with these text messages?” He scrolled through
them on the phone, and I felt ill.

“It
was stupid. I didn’t want to bother you over this.”

“Go
on.” His calmness was unnerving.

“That
first text came, and I thought it was you being cheeky. So I answered.”

He
raised his eyebrows and said, “OK.”

“Then
I realized it wasn’t you. So I called the number to find out who it was. And
Miranda answered.”

His
eyes widened.

“I
know it’s silly, but after the phone call I was worried she’d come over here
again. So I went to Josie and Buck’s.”

“Jesus,
Enza. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You
don’t need to babysit me.”

He
groaned, running his hands through his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“I
got to visit your family. Not a bad day.”

He
stood, aggravated, and began to pace.

“I’m
sorry. I should have told you.”

“Damn
right.” He leaned toward the window, gripping the frame.

“I
wanted to avoid another scene.”

He
shook his head, staring into the yard. “Miranda is my problem,” he said firmly.
“She shouldn’t be yours too.”

“I
didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m
supposed to be helping you, looking out for you. Not making your life more
complicated.”

Complicated
had happened the second I walked up and found him in the hammock, but I kept
that thought to myself.

“It’s
all right,” I said at last. “Let’s forget about the whole thing.”

“It’s
not all right!” he said, his voice rising again. “I made a promise.”

He
bit his lip like he’d said too much.

“What
does that mean?” I asked. “What promise?”

He
sat down across from me at the table and reached for his coffee. I’d never seen
him so flustered before.

“Jack?”

He
rested his elbows on the table and gazed at me. “I should have said something
sooner. But it just seemed weird. I thought it would scare you.”

“What’s
going on?”

He
sighed. “I promised Vergie I’d look out for you, that I’d help you any way I
could.”

At
first I thought I misheard him.

“I
wanted to tell you, Enza. But I knew it would make everything between us seem—contrived.”
Beneath the table, his knee brushed against mine. “She knew she was sick.” His
voice lowered to almost a whisper. “She knew you’d come take care of the house—after—and
she asked me to stick around and help you however you needed. I promised her
I’d look out for you.”

My
breath caught in my throat. “You knew I was coming?”

He
nodded.

“She
knew she was dying?”

He
nodded again, his eyes sad.

“Why
didn’t she call me? I would have come down here. I could have helped her.”

He
shook his head. “That’s not what she wanted. She didn’t want you to be sad or
feel burdened. But she knew what this place did for you. She wanted you to have
it.”

My
eyes stung with tears. She’d been thinking of me all that time, and I’d been so
oblivious. My chest ached as I held back sobs that would surely crack my heart
in half.

Jack
brought my hand to his lips. “She loved you so much. And she knew you loved her
the same.”

“Why
didn’t you tell me all of this before?” I asked.

He
shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I mean, why would you? You didn’t
know me at all.”

He
was right, of course. I wouldn’t have believed him.

“And
after, I just didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was only here
because Vergie asked me.”

What
exactly did that mean? I started to ask him, but he spoke up first.

“I
loved her too,” he said. “I know I’m not her kin, but she meant the world to
me. And even if you’re madder than hell at me, I intend to keep my promise to
her. So if you tell me to piss off and just show up with a hammer to finish all
these repairs and never say another word to you, then that’s exactly what I’ll
do. But I really hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I’m
not mad at you.”

My
head was pounding but not from anger. Under other circumstances, I probably
wouldn’t have believed any of this. But people here were tangled in ways I couldn’t
predict, and every time I thought I had them figured out, another loose end led
somewhere I couldn’t imagine.

He
held my hand in both of his. “Please say something,” he said.

“Why
else would you be here?”

“What
do you mean?”

“You
said you didn’t want me to think the only reason you’re here is because of
Vergie. Why else would you be here?”

“Oh,”
he said, shifting in his chair. “I meant our agreement. The repairs.”

I
stared at him, hard. Whatever he was hiding, he’d shoved it deep beneath the
skin. He released my hand.

“Right,”
I said.

We
sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally I said, “I’m glad you told me.”