Bayou My Love: A Novel (5 page)

I
made up the bed with the sheets Jack had left stacked on the dresser and opened
the window higher. I locked the door and laid the key on the nightstand. The
cool sheets soothed me as I climbed into bed. I didn’t expect Jack to creep
upstairs in the middle of the night, but still I listened for footsteps on the
stairs. He seemed like one of the good guys, but how could I be sure? What if
he had another key? I flipped off the bedside lamp and tried not to think any
more about Jack, thinking instead of those long forgotten summers. With my eyes
closed, I felt the salty breeze warm against my skin, heard the pounding of
goat hooves in a thicket, growing closer, as if to carry me off into a distant
memory.

Chapter
4

It
took me a minute to remember where I was when I awoke. The bed felt funny, and
there was barking—so much barking. I covered my head with the pillow, but the
sound reverberated in my skull until I rolled out of bed. I pulled on the
clothes I’d worn the day before and unlocked the door, giving it a shove when
it stuck. After stopping in the bathroom to brush my teeth and pull my hair
back, I hurried down the stairs. Judging by the way the light was streaming
through the windows, I’d slept much later than planned.

My
eyes wouldn’t open in the harsh light. At the foot of the stairs, I collided
with what I thought must have been the doorframe and cursed.

“Hey,”
a voice said. Big hands planted themselves square on my shoulders, and I
yelped. Staggering backward, my foot banged against the bottom step, knocking
me off balance. But a sturdy arm gathered me around the waist, righting me
before I could land flat on the stairs.

“Jesus,”
I said. I looked up at Jack, who still hadn’t let me go. “You nearly gave me a
heart attack.”

“Sorry,”
he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But you were headed for a crash landing.”

I
blinked at him. My mouth was open, but no sound came out.

“Didn’t
mean to scare you, cher.”

My
heart banged against my ribs so hard they hurt.

“Come
here, have some breakfast.” He dropped his arm, and I felt cold.

I
trudged into the kitchen where the table was set for two. Steam rose from a
skillet on the stove.

“You
cooked breakfast?”

“I
thought you’d be tired after your trip.”

“I
try hard to be a morning person, but I’ve never succeeded.”

He
half-smiled. “So I see. I got up early, thinking you’d already be up and going.
Then I figured I might as well make breakfast.”

I
was starving. And delighted. But I couldn’t let him think I was too easy to please.

“Your
bacon’s burning.”

He
went to the stove. “Sit,” he said, motioning toward the table. “I’ll get you a
coffee.”

The
magic words. I sat.

He
eased the cup in front of me, moving slowly like you do with a stray you’re
afraid might bite you.

I
inhaled the sweet scent of chicory. “Thank you.”

Outside,
the barks turned to howls. I rested my head in my hands.

Jack
Mayronne, unfazed by the barking, brought two plates of eggs and grits to the
table. He wore a threadbare T-shirt that clung to his upper arms, as if
unaccustomed to their size. I could see the chiseled muscles of his chest, and
my eyes kept landing there as they tried to focus. I pried them away when I
realized he was looking right at me.

“Sorry,”
I said. “I get a thousand-yard stare in the morning.”

The
look on his face said he didn’t believe that for a second.

When
he sat down, I saw the tattoo spilling out of his sleeve, winding along the
inside of his arm. It looked like the long tail feathers of a bird. The
darkness of the ink showed through his shirt at his shoulder, but I still
couldn’t piece the image together.

“What’s
with the barking?” I took a sip of coffee and winced.

“Bella’s
out getting into trouble,” he said, pushing a bottle of cream toward me.
“Probably chasing a squirrel or some such thing. Did you get some rest?”

“Yeah,”
I said. “What time is it?”

“Nearly
nine.”

“Jesus.
I should be painting by now.”

He
laughed, sipping his own coffee. “Take it easy. You just got here.”

“I
don’t have time to take it easy,” I said. My father would probably call in two
days for a progress report.

“You
count nails instead of sheep at night, huh? Dream of spackling and whatnot?”

I
frowned, focusing on the coffee.

“You’re
in the Big Easy, now, cher. You got to slow down a little.”

“I
take it you have the day off.”

When
he grinned, his dimples showed. “I go in tomorrow. Today I’m all yours.”

I
sipped the coffee, hiding my smile. Jack could be a distraction, no doubt. But
he could also be an asset. It would be a struggle to finish these repairs, and
it would be foolish to turn away a capable man who was not only willing to work
for me, but duty-bound to do it right.

I
just needed to stay focused. He was clearly used to his charm getting him
anything he wanted.

Fortunately
I got the distinct feeling he could be charmed too.

“How
about that trip to the hardware store you promised?”

He
leaned back in his chair. “Sure, we’ll go down to Buck’s. He’s got everything
you’ll need.” The glint in his eye suggested he thought I was in need of
something you couldn’t get at any hardware store. But I couldn’t linger on that
thought. With my father waiting for me to screw this project up, I had no time
for distractions. No matter how chiseled and charming they might be.

Replacing
tile. Repairing floors. Repainting bedrooms. Those were the things I needed to
focus on. With Jack around I was going to have to concentrate on the details to
make sure my brain and body were too tired to think about him. Those arms of
his were nice to look at, but they also looked like they could operate a
circular saw just fine.

God,
this was going to be exhausting.

~~~~

Jack
drove us in his pickup, claiming we could fit everything we needed in the back.
Despite my protests, he drove with the windows down so the wind flapped my hair
against my face. “You need to get used to the heat,” he’d said. The humidity
was going to turn me into a frizzy mess—one more reason to hurry up and get out
of Louisiana.

“You
look like you’re thinking pretty hard over there,” he said.

I
smiled. “Just thinking how fast we can do this, if you’re as good as you say
you are.” My one worry was this: His movements thus far were as slow as honey
dripping from a spoon. That could certainly be admirable in the right
circumstances, but for repairs, he was going to have to speed up. I was
accustomed to a tight schedule with no time wasted.

The
truck lurched as Jack shifted into fourth, then hung his elbow out the window.
I caught him stealing glances at me while he was driving, and I couldn’t decide
if I should be flattered. Was it crazy to drive around with a guy I just met,
letting him get so close so quickly? My father would have told me this was a
terrible idea, that men like Jack couldn’t be trusted. To him, Jack would be
another broken guy taking advantage of my kindness.

~~~~

Buck’s
hardware store—simply called B’s—was tucked in a corner of the swamp off the
main highway. Wood paneled with a green roof, it blended right in with the
grove of trees surrounding it. In the dirt parking lot, a man wearing baggy
jeans and no shirt was sitting on top of a rusted-out tractor, his feet propped
up on the hood. He was reading a newspaper and gave us a lazy nod as we got out
of the truck.

Inside,
Jack strode straight to the counter. “Buck, how you been?”

Shaped
like a pot-bellied stove, Buck had pink cheeks and a graying beard. His face
was marked with hard lines. “Fine, you? Who’s your friend?”

“Enza,”
he said. “Vergie’s granddaughter.”

“Nice
to meet you,” I said, shaking Buck’s hand.

“Vergie’s
granddaughter? Well, I’ll be. She was a sweetheart, all right.”

Buck
gave me a long look, but if he gave me enough of a discount on the lumber and
supplies, I didn’t much mind.

Jack
read my expression. As we turned down the first aisle with baskets in hand, he
said, “Buck’s my uncle.”

I
tossed in packages of nails and tubes of caulk. “Well, of course he is.”

He
laughed. “Small town, cher.”

When
he snatched a pair of pink gloves from a display stand and dropped them in my
basket, I said, “Really?”

“Thought
you might need these,” he said with a shrug.

“Very
funny.”

He
laughed and put them back on the shelf.

There
were only a few other customers in the store, but they all stared in that way
people in small towns do when they’re trying to be sneaky. I’d been in enough
places like this to know that we’d be the subject of local scuttlebutt for
days. At first I thought they were staring because they weren’t used to seeing
a woman in a hardware store, but then I realized it was because I was there
with Jack. I didn’t miss the winks that passed between a couple of the men, the
whispers exchanged over paint cans.

While
I thumbed through the paint chips, Jack lit a clove cigarette, blowing smoke
rings above his head. They widened as they rose, like wobbly halos. This kind
of store was like a barber shop, where men came to stand around smoking and
chewing tobacco, regaling each other with stories they’d heard about their
friends through the week.

“I
figured you’d paint it all white,” Jack said.

I
held two chips up for him to see. “White’s too sterile. Colors make it feel
like a home. Which do you like better?”

He
plucked a light blue one from my hand and smiled. “Virginia Beach. For Vergie.”

A
voice came from behind us, ragged and deep. “Well, look what the ol’ cat
dragged up.”

Jack’s
eyes narrowed. The look that came over his face chilled me.

A
man with shaggy blond hair stepped around me and slapped Jack on the shoulder,
though the gesture hardly seemed friendly. He was as tall as Jack but heavier
and with broader shoulders. “Mayronne, don’t you know gals like this don’t
belong in hardware stores?” He winked at me. “Didn’t anybody teach you what to
do with a woman?”

Jack
ignored him, his jaw rigid as he stepped past him. “Come on, Enza.”

“What?
You too good to talk to me now?” the man said. He wore jeans that were snug and
striped with grease, a plaid shirt and work boots.

Buck
leaned against the counter, pulling his hat down on his forehead. “Keep moving,
Remy,” he called. “Ain’t nothing you need on that aisle.”

Remy
turned to me, his eyes roaming from my face to my feet. His grin made me
bristle. “Sugar, you’re wasting your time with Mayronne,” he said, gesturing
toward Jack. “Why don’t you let me show you how we have fun around here? You’re
new here,
non
?”

When
he winked again, his lip curled into a sly grin that made me want to clock him.
He had hollow brown eyes and a square face that looked like it had taken its
share of punches. But he was handsome, no arguing that. I didn’t want to stir
up trouble so early in the day, so I turned back to the display of paint chips
like I was just brushing off another hackneyed pick-up line.

Jack
stepped between us, pausing inches from Remy’s shoulder. “Leave her be,” Jack
said, his voice like gravel.

“What’s
the matter? Afraid she’ll prefer my kind of fun?” Remy looked at Jack with a
cocky glint in his eye.

Then
Remy leaned closer to me, and said in a low voice, “Darlin’, let me show you
why they call it the Big Easy.”

I
plucked a paint chip from the rack and brushed past him. “There’s a line I
never thought I’d hear down here,” I said, and headed to the paint counter.

“Well,
ain’t you a firecracker,” Remy said. “That sass looks good on you, sugar.”

“See
you ’round, Remy,” Jack said, and strode past him to follow me. Buck watched
from the front of the store. He pointed a finger at Remy, then motioned toward
the door.

“What?”
Remy called. “Last time I checked, hardware stores were open to everybody.”

“Then
get what you need and get out,” Buck said, “before I regret making it that
way.”

“Well,”
Remy said, looking my way, “I’m trying, ain’t I?”

“You
know,” I said, turning to him, “why don’t you take your—”

Jack
interrupted, saying to Remy in a cool, even voice, “You don’t want to start
this here. Trust me on that.”

Remy
stared at him, stone faced.

“Hey,”
Buck yelled. “Am I going to have to drag you out of here my own self? I ain’t
going to bother the sheriff with this nonsense again.”

“Guess
you don’t have what I need after all,” Remy said, turning toward the front of
the store. “Watch out for those fires, Mayronne,” he said over his shoulder.
“Be a shame if you got burned up in one.”

I
turned in time to see Remy’s smirk turn to a sneer as he ambled down the aisle
to the door. On his way past the stock boy, he said, “What are you staring at?”
and knocked a box of screws from his hand. They clattered as they tumbled
across the floor.

“Hey,”
Buck called from the counter. “Next time I don’t ask nicely.”