BayouBabe99er (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (3 page)

“What about the oil collecting in the Pass?” Sharlene was on her feet as the question spilled out. His double-fisted grip on the mike produced feedback when his thumbs did that nervous thump she’d witnessed on the boat. “How does your company plan to ensure for the cleanup? To protect the people’s safety and their health from the effects of the oil?”

“Health issues aren’t a remote concern seeing that the accident occurred offshore.” He then called her out. “Ms. Mouton, this meeting is for the residents of this community. Do you fall into that category?”

“Corm-i-er!” All eyes swung in Moot’s direction. He rose with purpose. “Don’t let yo’ mouth get yo’ ass kicked.”

The shoo-shooing started in the audience.

“I mean no disrespect, Mr. Mouton.” He wasn’t feeling any Southern hospitality.

“They might not know who you are. But I do.”

“You’re right, sir. I should have made my connection known. I’m a distant relative of the Cormiers who used to live here.” Drake tried to relate to Pauchex Pass’s residents. “That means I have a personal stake in helping the people here.”

“Or—ya tryin’ to smooth over the damage!” Moot challenged.

* * * *

Drake couldn’t mistake the pure hatred Moot displayed when he looked at him. “I’m here to help, not hurt, Mr. Mouton. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“Then answer Sha’s question. When will the cleanup of the Pass start?”

“Actually, there is no evidence of trouble in that area.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Sharlene argued.

“Evidence is the operative word, Ms. Mouton.” Drake turned to the panel. “Pauchex Pass is miles from the origin of the spill. But there’s a visible sheen along that route.”

A panelist contended, “Probably nothing to do with why we’re here.”

“Here we go,” said a voice in the crowd. The buzz continued around the gym.

His eyes strayed to Sharlene. Her lovely face relayed none of the angst he suspected she felt. The dead-on glare she hurled his way said more than any words could express. He broke eye contact because now was not the time for a one-on-one debate in front of a hostile audience.

“Look,” he started. Drake took the steps down and planted himself firmly in their midst. “Now, the panel will present this new concern for investigation.”

Murmurs from the bleachers grew aggressive. “It’ll get buried just like our little town.”

“Trust me. I won’t let that happen.”

One of the committee members jumped to commandeer the floor. “We respect what we’ve heard this evening. Mr. Cormier’s passion is to be commended.” Drake raised his eyebrows in surprise at the snub. “What we need from you is your cooperation,” the member continued. “Take care of your part and our company will handle the rest.”

The people on the dais stood.

“Thank you for coming.” The facilitator closed the discussion with those words against the wishes of the residents.

They swarmed the floor as the panel disappeared through the side doors. “Traitor!”

Drake felt the sting of that slur. He squared his shoulders on the walk to his vehicle, feeling inept at easing the pain so many experienced. A chance encounter with the disrespectful panel member was too good to pass up. “You do plan on reporting the situation at Pauchex Pass?”

“Listen, Cormier. Don’t stir up more trouble than we already have. You are the go-between. Not the people’s spokesperson.”

Incensed, Drake challenged. “If you don’t look into this matter, I’ll have no alternative but to submit the suspicions myself.”

“You’ll have an answer by the end of the week.” The man’s whole demeanor swelled in rage. He confronted Drake with, “Better remember who you work for, Cormier” and marched off.

The implied threat set Drake on fire.

His mind stayed on the troubles he knew to come as he slid behind the wheel. The decision to volunteer as the middleman came about when he witnessed the despair on numerous news reports. The sight compelled him to act. This added crimp had him question whether he could positively impact the outcome for the people.

Beating outside on the hood of his rental stifled the thoughts roiling in his head. The culprit never stopped moving and was out of sight when Drake stepped out of the car. He endured caustic glances as people milled around in the parking lot, at odds with approaching him directly or going about their business. He watched worry etch every face.

It wasn’t long before he was one of the few who remained outside the gym in moderate darkness. The period of time he stood like a statue cemented in his brain the difficulty of his task. Something told him fairness and profit was like oil and water. Right now, he could think of no way to get the two to mix.

Drake entered his car in a contemplative mood. To add fuel to the fire, Sharlene and her uncle strolled by him as if he was non-existent. He conceded this looked to be a tough assignment. However, the tools for developing a compromise strategy just got into their rust-red pickup and drove away.

BayouBabe99er with the latest on the Gulf crisis. The oil’s not the only thing slick down here. What’s another name for the yucky, green slime in ditches? If you answered “scum,” you’d be right on the money. The scum I’m speaking of walks on two feet and makes believe he has the best interest of the people at heart. Some may call Louisianians daft. But—I beg to differ. Stay tuned for more.

Sharlene awoke in the doldrums a week after the big meeting. She muddled through the morning a bit perturbed her Uncle Moot sneaked out on a compensated fishing expedition without inviting her. There was no way he misunderstood her desire to accompany him. She made that clear last night.

The rocker squeaked on the wooden planks of the front porch as she sipped from her coffee mug.

Swamp sounds marred the quiet morning, from the fowls’ in-flight cries from branch to branch—to the croaking bullfrogs in the brush. Sticky humidity hung low, settling all over her. She hadn’t bothered to change and lounged about in soft, cottony sleep pants topped with a short, ribbed undershirt. Quite frankly, she was surprised anyone would pay to fish in the waters around there. In her opinion, it provided proof to the theory money, power, and access skewed the perception and minimized the fallout of the spill. The company’s ad campaigns succeeded.

On the other hand, some people had work.

Boredom drove her from the chair to meander the dirt path to the dock. The water bi-way barely allowed small craft traffic to pass. Its use was primarily as a backdoor to and from the village when the road was impassable. It took a pro to navigate the invisible pitfalls.

“Going in for a drink?”

She didn’t startle at the voice behind her. Her heart did. “Lost, Mr. Cormier?”

He wanted to share more time with her each time he saw her. Drake walked right up next to Sharlene, immersing himself in more than nature’s eye-catching beauty. The sky streaked cobalt blue through the tops of the Cypress trees. The eastern sun hit them with powerful rays. At least he saw no ecological damage from their current viewpoint.

She already faced him when he looked down. His answer was
yes, he was lost
. He
lost
himself in the depths of her soulful eyes. “I came to solicit help.”

“Un–Uncle Moot isn’t home,” she stuttered. Sharlene sidestepped him to lessen the fizzle fusing them together. “Anyway, you know that’s not likely to happen. You’re the enemy.”

Her move failed to sever the underlying current.

“He holds grudges,” Drake announced.

She had to agree. “For some reason, particularly against Cormiers.”

“Something happened that soured the relationship shared with some of my kin.” He had her undivided attention. “I guessed that much. I suppose blood makes me guilty, too.”

“Along with working for the oil company culpable in this entire mess.” The Mouton in her came out. “What is it you want from my uncle?”

“A ride through the marsh.”

Sharlene wondered about that request. “You’re just the liaison officer. Shouldn’t any investigative research be done by the experts?”

* * * *

Drake circled to lean with his back against the sun, admiring the woman before him. She was the epitome of loveliness and unintentionally rattled his chain. He was thirty-four but felt like a teen on his first date. “Actually, there isn’t going to be any investigation.”

“You’re kidding!” she nearly shouted, shading her eyes with her hand. “Right?”

“Over the past week, a research team collected and examined residue from the Pass. Their findings substantiated the company’s initial denial of further compensation related to unsupported loss of revenue.”

Sharlene’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I’m sick and tired of greed winning out. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“What’re you going to do?” The sight of her sashaying off was daunting.

Sharlene paused to turn back. “Change and take you where you need to go.”

“Shouldn’t we wait?” he asked worriedly.

“I think it’s now or never, Mr. Cormier.”

“It’s Drake, Sharlene.” He thought she blushed. “If you’re game—I’m game.”

“Be right back,” she huffed and strutted off.

Watching her go was his thrill of the morning. He scoped out the Mouton habitat, concluding it had rustic charm. The log cabin home stood high in the air on pilings. The outer buildings hinted at activities he hoped never to be an active participant in, like the skinned animals grimacing on the walls.

A door slammed, breaking into his observation.

She appeared on the porch. “Let’s get going.”

He noticed Sharlene dressed for the hot, humid weather and didn’t show up empty-handed.

In her possession were items necessary for a trip in the swamp. A compass dangled from her wrist. Strips of vibrant cloth slung over her shoulder. A boonie hat rested on her head. Along with all of that, she juggled a beige and brown crock jar containing cool, fresh water.

Drake tracked all of her moves.

“I can use your help over here.”

He closed in on her as she accessed the shed. Once he got there, he took possession of the bulky items she transferred to him. Drake came to her rescue when the tippy-toed reach she made for the pole stored overhead was just shy of her snagging it. “Let me get that,” he offered.

His release of the pole marched him behind her, right out to the dock. Drake grasped the overhead lines of the moored skiff.

“No,” she whispered.

The warm, soft hand on his arm halted him. He gazed down at her ring-adorned left hand—happy, for some reason, the jewelry was on her pinkie finger.

Sharlene bumped the hanging skiff, tilting it with the pole. The questioning look he threw drew a response. “Just wait.” She tried again and heard a rustling on the canvass cover above their heads. One more thump and the snake plopped to the ground, curled for action.

“Whoa!” Drake took an unconscious step backward. They watched it slither into the water. “You’re making a habit of this.”

Sharlene tussled with the manual pulley to get the pirogue into the water. Drake freed his hands to assist. They worked as a team lowering the boat. It wasn’t until that chore was completed that her focus fell on him.

“A habit of what?” she replied, a perplexed tilt to her head. Sunrays glittered off of the diamond now poised on her hip.

Drake’s interest intensified as his smile broadened. “Saving me. This is the second time.”

“Third. But who’s counting?” She giggled. “Uncle Moot was ready to tear you limb from limb, if you recall.”

“Touché.”

“Anyway, a big, strong man like you can handle anything.”

No matter how he tried to cover, his jovial attitude was gone.

“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He left her gaping as he all but stormed toward his vehicle.

* * * *

“So you’re one of those!” she antagonized, mustering all of her courage to catch up to him. “Well, here’s something I learned from the master of you all.” Drake spun around when he was caught by the crook of his arm.

“You don’t walk away from a fight!”

While her eyes slung daggers, it was the smoke behind them setting him on fire.

“I don’t know you, Drake. Yet I know I’ve offended you.”

His finger stroked her cheek in a very familiar way. “I’m not offended, Sharlene.” His words came out sort of hoarse. “You just reminded me I thought like that some time ago. My shoulders were broad enough to handle whatever obstacles came my way.” A faraway look entered his eyes. “Reality check. Life proved me wrong.”

Sharlene moved back a few inches. Surely the electricity jolted him, also. The proof was in the way his hand lingered on her cheek. It was eons ago someone touched her so intimately. That person now had
ex
in front of their association.

“Do you still want to go?” She had to break the spell.