Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (2 page)

Gastin opened the tailgate on the truck, and Zoe leaped into the bed of the pickup. Soon Neil, following behind the truck, was bouncing along the unpaved road that would take them to the highway and Gastin’s place. Neil was only partly aware of the isolated landscape dotted with pine, buttonwood, and jacaranda trees as they barreled through the night. Unanswered questions churned through his mind as worry gnawed at him. Would Norman be all right? What kind of injuries did he have? How were their parents doing? His chest tightened. Their parents. They must be terrified.

As fear knotted into a lump in his gut, Neil wished he still believed in prayer.

* * *

“Hold that light steady for me, will you, Mrs. Peres?”

The voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. Laura Sebastian tried to speak, and a needle-sharp pain stabbed at her temples. When she breathed, her chest felt as if someone were sitting on it.

“Ohhh,” she moaned.

“Laura? Can you hear me?”

“Umm...” Who was that?

“Laura?” The voice was insistent, and even though it hurt, she opened her eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in her temples. Bright sunlight blinded her, and she lifted her right arm to shield herself. When she did, pain pounded her from every direction.

“Mmm...” Gradually her eyes adjusted to the brightness. A man with thick glasses and a dark brown mustache and beard stood over her. He was wearing a white coat and studying her intently. “Wh.. .what—?”

“—happened?” He frowned. “You’ve been in an accident. You’re at Mercy Hospital. You were brought in last night. Do you remember anything?” His voice was impersonal and clipped, as if he were in a hurry.

An accident? Laura strained to remember, but the only images she could call forth were disjointed and fuzzy.

“I’m Dr. Dunado,” he said. He was holding something that looked like a fat fountain pen in his left hand, but when he leaned over her and switched it on, she could see it was a small-beamed light. He shone it into her eyes, and she whimpered. The light hurt.

“Be still,” he said, not unkindly, but brusque and matter-of-fact. After a few minutes, he switched the light off.

An accident.

He said she’d been in an accident.

Suddenly Laura’s heart lurched as the events of the previous evening came rushing back, images tumbling through her mind.

The rain. The lightning and thunder. Norman shouting. Headlights. Another car. And then...oh, God. Then they’d crashed. Her heart pounded as terror flooded her body. “Nor--Norman,” she cried. She tried to sit up, ignoring the pain that tore through her, but the doctor and someone else—someone standing on her other side—gently pushed her back against her pillows.

“Please, don’t try to move, Laura,” a female voice said. Wincing, Laura turned her head. A plump nurse with kind brown eyes smiled at her and said, “Hi. I’m Mrs. Peres.”

“The...the accident. I...I remember now. Is...is Norman okay?”

“Mr. Cantrelle’s doing fine,” Dr. Dunado said, but when she looked at him he didn’t meet her eyes.

The nurse lifted something and gently placed it in Laura’s hand, closing her fingers around the cool, smooth plastic. “This is your call bell.” She patted Laura’s hand. “If you need me for anything, all you have to do is press this, okay?” With infinite care, she guided Laura’s index finger and showed her where to push. “When you do that,” the nurse continued, “a light goes on outside your door and at the nurses’ station, too. We’ll come right away.”

Laura tried to concentrate on the nurse’s instructions, but the effort was too great. Her head hurt too much. The only clear thought in her mind was Norman. Guilt mixed with fear engulfed her. Norman had reached for her hand. He had looked away from the road.

The accident was all her fault. If she hadn’t been so stupid ... if Norman had been paying attention to his driving... For a moment, tears blinded her. If only she had loved Norman the way any sensible woman would have, none of this would have happened.

Mrs. Peres tucked the blanket around her. “Now you just close your eyes and sleep. Don’t you go worrying about anything. Your friend is going to be all right.”

She walked out, leaving Laura with the doctor. Silently he lifted her wrist and checked her pulse.

Laura forced herself to speak calmly. “Where is Norman? Is he here?”

“Yes.”

There it was again, his eyes skidding away from contact with hers. “T-tell me the truth, doctor. How badly is he hurt?”

Dunado frowned, and his eyes finally met hers. He gave her a long, considering look. “He’s alive, but he’s not in good shape,” he said. “You were lucky. All you’ve got are a few cracked ribs, a nasty bump on the head, and a mild concussion.” He released her hand. “I’ve ordered a painkiller for you.”

“I don’t need a painkiller.” If she took a drug, she would be so dopey she wouldn’t know what was happening around her. She shuddered as nameless fears clawed at her.

“I think you do,” he said.

“I won’t take it,” she insisted.

His eyes narrowed. He shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m not going to force you.” He made another notation on her chart. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later.” Then, without looking at her again, he walked out.

Get some rest.

How could she rest when she was so worried? The accident was her fault! Norman had been badly hurt, and she was responsible. A vivid picture swept through her mind just as the blurred headlights of the oncoming car had swept across the windshield of Norman’s Jeep seconds before the crash. Now Laura remembered everything.

Norman’s large, square hands had gripped the steering wheel in fierce concentration. The windshield wipers, with their rapid whoosh-thunk, whoosh-thunk, had sounded as if they were keeping time with the drumrolls of thunder.

The weather had turned nasty late in the afternoon while Laura and Norman were visiting a roofing materials supplier near New Orleans. By the time they were on their way back to Patinville and home, they found themselves in the middle of a full-fledged storm.

But as worried as Laura was about the storm, she was even more worried about the confrontation ahead of her when they reached her apartment—a confrontation she could no longer avoid.

If only Norman hadn’t asked her to marry him. If only she’d been able to keep their relationship one of friendship. If only he hadn’t forced her to make a decision.

If only she loved him.

Why couldn’t she be satisfied with Norman? Why weren’t feelings of admiration and respect enough for her? Why did she hold on to her fantasy of a man who would understand her fears and insecurities? A man who would need her as much as she needed him?

She sighed heavily. In her mind, she’d been over and over the same questions; nothing had changed. She was not in love with Norman. She would never be in love with him. He had some wonderful qualities, but the things she needed from him most were missing. So no matter how much she loved his family, no matter how much she wanted to marry and have children, no matter how she longed to be part of that elusive circle—it simply wouldn’t work.

She closed her eyes against the sudden longing that assailed her. From the time she was a little girl pretending the beat-up doll the woman from the social services agency had brought her was her very own baby, Laura had wanted a family. The kind of family she saw on television. Her daydreams were filled with images of fat, sweet-smelling babies she would cuddle and sing lullabies to; of warm kitchens filled with the aroma of cookies baking in the oven; of a tall, loving man who would open the door each night and gather her into his arms while their children shouted greetings at their feet.

Her eyes misted with tears—tears she fiercely rejected— as reality clutched her in its painful grip. Christmas was coming, and one little word—yes—would mean she wouldn’t have to spend another Christmas as an outsider. Instead, she would be welcomed in the circle that included Norman and his parents and sisters and their huge, boisterous Cajun family.

Joie de vivre
. A way of looking at things. A condition of the mind and heart. Full of the joy of living. Laura remembered the first time she’d heard the expression, only a few months after she’d arrived in Patinville. And that expression so perfectly described the Cantrelles it could have been coined with them in mind.

If she said yes to Norman, she would be a Cantrelle. She would share their love and unity. She would be a part of something good and desirable, instead of existing on the fringes—alone and set apart—as she had been for most of her life.

She loved Norman’s family. Their lure was almost irresistible. They were everything she had always longed for. Réne, Norman’s fun-loving and generous father; Arlette, his feisty, bossy mother; Denise and Nicole, his pretty, bright sisters. And although she’d never met him, she was sure she would also love Norman’s older brother, Neil, who lived in the Florida Keys and ran a charter fishing business.

All this could be hers: this ready-made family that so closely matched the family of her dreams.

All she had to do was say she’d marry Norman.

And that was the one thing she knew she couldn’t do.

And tonight she had promised to give him her answer.

Ever since he’d asked her over a week ago, she’d been dreading telling him. She knew that once she did, everything would change. He would be hurt. How could she continue going into the office every day? Even if he never said a word, his eyes would speak for him. The situation would be impossible—so uncomfortable Laura wouldn’t be able to stand it.

She would have to quit her job. And if she quit her job as the bookkeeper/office manager of Cantrelle Roofing and Home Improvement Company, what would she do? Her dream of opening a day-care center would be set back for a long time, maybe even years. She guessed she could move to New Orleans, or back to California, but the idea was not appealing. Since coming to Patinville, she’d discovered how much she liked smaller towns. Besides, she’d made friends in Patinville, and for her, making friends had never been easy.

She shivered, a feeling of foreboding creeping through her, as her thoughts whirled around and around.

“Are you cold, honey?”

Laura started guiltily.
Honey. He’s so sure I’m going to say yes. Oh, Norman, I’m sorry. If wishing could make it different, I’d feel everything you want me to feel.

And then he reached for her hand, and Laura knew he sensed her worry. After that, things happened so fast, they were only a blur in Laura’s mind. The headlights. The crash. The sickening sound of crunched metal and shattering glass. And then a black and empty silence.

Remembering all this, anxiety settled into Laura’s chest like a dull ache. Norman. Poor Norman. The doctor had said he wasn’t in good shape. Her fault. All her fault. Oh, God, what if he didn’t make it? What if he died?

Bottom lip trembling, Laura began to pray.

Neil paced the length of the waiting room. He felt the eyes of his parents and sisters watching him. He balled his fists, wishing he could do something concrete to help them— something other than offer platitudes. Damn, he felt helpless.

He stopped pacing; he wanted a cigarette desperately, even though he’d quit smoking two years earlier. The sound of footsteps alerted him to the doctor’s approach. Neil waited silently as Dr. Dunado entered the waiting room. Dunado’s face was impassive, but Neil saw the tension in the set of the man’s shoulders. He nodded gravely, addressing his remarks to Neil’s parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cantrelle, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

At Dunado’s words, Neil’s father put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. With his other arm he beckoned Denise and Nicole closer. Both women had frightened eyes. Neil stiffened, every sense in tune to the anxiety emanating from the doctor. In the few seconds before Dunado spoke again, the silence in the waiting room thickened, almost as if it were something you could reach out and touch. The phenomenon reminded Neil of those seconds between the time you saw a gun raised and pointed at you and the actual moment of firing. For one heartbeat he thought he was back on the force, staring down the black abyss of some drug dealer’s gun.

“Your son has sustained some very serious injuries,” Dunado said. He hesitated, then said bluntly, “As you know, he was pinned in the wreckage of his car. His right leg was mangled badly. We’ve done everything we can, but it can’t be saved. We must amputate.”

His father’s face drained of color. Denise gasped, and Nicole’s dark eyes widened in shock.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Neil’s mother said as she clutched her handkerchief to her mouth. Her hands trembled. Neil felt as if he’d been rammed in the stomach.

Dunado blurted out the rest. “His left leg was also severely injured. Both the femur and the tibia were crushed. We’re going to do everything we can to save it.”

The stark words reverberated in Neil’s head.

“Oh, no, no. Réne,” his mother wailed, turning into her husband’s embrace. “Réne...”

“It’s okay, Arlette,” Neil’s father soothed, patting her dark head ineffectually. “It’s okay, everythin’s go’n be okay. Please,
chére,
don’t cry.”

Nicole began to cry, too, and Neil, whose chest ached from his own grief, stood by impotently. A tidal wave of rage crashed over him at the thought of the tragedy that had befallen his baby brother. Because no matter what his father had said, Neil knew nothing would ever be okay again.

His father led his mother, who was still quietly weeping, back to the couch on the far side of the waiting room. His gaze met Neil’s, and Neil wished desperately he could communicate some reassurance.

“Wh-what about Laura?” Denise said softly to the doctor. “No one’s told us anything about her.”

Neil frowned. Laura? Who was Laura?

“Miss Sebastian’s going to be fine,” Dunado said. “Her injuries are minor. I just left her room.”

“Thank God,” Denise said. Then she must have noticed Neil’s consternation, for she said, “Didn’t anyone tell you Norman wasn’t alone? Laura Sebastian, who works in the office, was with him. Well, actually, she’s more than an employee. She and Norman have been seeing each other for almost a year now.”