Marisa Carroll - Hotel Marchand 09 (14 page)

W
ATCHING
Casey Jo drive away with Dana was the hardest thing Alain had ever done. God, what if she didn’t come back on Sunday? He’d talked a big game but he got Amber Alerts at the station every day for children who were abducted by family members, and some of them were never seen again. Guy would never forgive him if that happened to Dana. And he would never forgive himself.

“Come on inside. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

He spun on his heel. Sophie was still standing at the foot of the porch steps. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d gone inside, slammed the door in his face and locked it after the scene she’d just witnessed. But she didn’t turn her back on him. She smiled and waited for him to respond. She looked like a breath of springtime in a yellow flowered skirt and white blouse. Her hair was a halo of golden curls that framed her face and caressed the rose petals in her cheeks.

“I could use something stronger than coffee.” He didn’t know what to do next. Go after Guy. Go after Casey Jo and tell her he’d changed his mind about letting her take Dana to Disney World. Or follow Sophie into Maude’s little house. His feet started moving toward her before his conscious mind gave them the command.

“I thought cops weren’t allowed to drink on duty.”

“We aren’t.” He hesitated, wondering if he should take off after Guy instead.

“Come on in, Alain. Guy needs some time to settle down, and Casey Jo won’t be leaving town for at least an hour. I imagine it takes her that long to put on her makeup. You’ve still got time to stop her if you feel that’s what you have to do.”

She’d read his mind. Alain felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth despite the heaviness in his heart. Sophie was right about Casey Jo’s face. It always took his ex-wife at least an hour of primping in front of a mirror to satisfy herself that she was ready to face the world each morning.

“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” he asked, mounting the steps.

Sophie looked at him over her shoulder as she preceded him down the hall to the kitchen. His footsteps rang hollowly on the hardwood floor. The house had taken on the empty feeling houses always got when there was no one living in them.

“Because that’s exactly what I’d be asking myself if I was in your shoes.”

“You believe I shouldn’t have let Dana go with her mother, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer him right away. She pulled a small can of coffee out of the cupboard, opened it and sniffed the contents. “Still good.” She ran water into the coffeemaker and spooned coffee into the basket. When the dark liquid began to run into the carafe, she turned and faced him, her hands braced on the counter on either side of her. “Do you believe Dana’s at risk of being harmed in some way when she’s with Casey Jo?”

“At risk of having her little heart broken, maybe,” he said, searching inwardly for telltale signs of doubt. He met Sophie’s questioning gaze head-on. “But she’s not in any physical danger. Casey Jo’s selfish and immature, but she’s not a fool. She’ll take care of Dana. I wouldn’t have let her go otherwise.”

Sophie took a mug from the cupboard, rinsed it in the sink and waited until enough coffee had filled the carafe. She poured a cup for Alain and handed it to him. “But you do have fears she might not bring her back. Am I mistaken there?”

“I think about that happening every time the woman comes to town. I think most single parents do from time to time.”

“Why did you let her go with her mother, then?”

He wrapped his hand around the thick mug, and took a sip of strong, hot coffee before he replied. He was too restless to sit. So was Sophie, evidently. She remained standing, her back to the counter while he considered his answer. “I guess I let her go because I’m tired of always being the bad guy. And Casey Jo isn’t some kind of monster. She’s just thoughtless and immature. And maybe, deep down, I hoped she would give Dana the time of her life so she’d have some good memories to fall back on when the next disappointment comes. Because there will be more disappointments. Casey Jo’s not ever going to grow up.”

“You really believe that?”

He studied the coffee that remained in his mug. “I haven’t seen much improvement in the five years we’ve been apart. So, no, I’m not too hopeful.”

“Now you’ve got to convince Guy you made the right decision.”

He set the half-empty mug on the table. “That’s not going to be easy. He doesn’t have any of those happy memories to fall back on himself.”

S
OPHIE LOOKED OUT
the window of Past Perfect at the pouring rain. The clouds had rolled in on Thursday afternoon and by midnight she had heard the drumbeat of raindrops on the roof of La Petite Maison. Now it was Friday afternoon and it was still raining. And not just in Indigo. The low-pressure system extended all across the Gulf States and into Florida. It was beginning to look like this would be the wettest winter in southwest Louisiana in almost a century.

Dana would need her bright red Winnie the Pooh raincoat at Disney World because it was going to rain in Orlando, too. Sophie had checked the weather maps on her laptop when she got up that morning.

“Anything else you want me to do before I leave, Miss Sophie?” Guy asked. She hadn’t met a male yet, old or young, in Indigo who didn’t address her in that charmingly old-fashioned manner. She was beginning to not only get used to it, but enjoy it.

“I think that’s all for today, Guy. Thanks for the help.” He was wearing a shiny black windbreaker over an Indigo High sweatshirt and would probably be soaked by the time he got home. She wondered if she should offer him a ride but decided against it. He played football in the rain; he could walk the four blocks to his grandmother’s house in the same conditions.

Sophie tucked the lopsided frog into a corner of the armoire shelf where she’d arranged the other stuffed animals and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “What do you think, Guy?” she asked, spreading her hands. “I gather there’s a group of people who collect them. But I haven’t been able to find any documentation of who these were ordered for so I’m putting them out here. Dana told me my godmother sometimes displayed them here. Maybe I can find their intended owners this way.”

“Looks good,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t find the bear.”

“That’s okay. It will turn up.” But she was beginning to wonder. They’d swept out all the dust bunnies from under the seats in the auditorium, upended drawers and shone flashlights in all the dark corners, but the bear hadn’t turned up. Was it possible someone had stolen the toy? She thought that unlikely; there had been no signs of a breakin, and no customers since her godmother died, so shoplifting seemed unlikely. But still, the price had been so ridiculously high.

She really ought to call Alain’s mother and inform her of the loss. She was Sophie’s only real contact with the woman who had made the animals.

“If that’s all, I’ll be taking off,” Guy said.

“Have you heard from Dana?” she asked. She had resisted the temptation to quiz him so far, but now her resolve failed. She hadn’t yet seen Alain that day and she was anxious for news of Dana. Alain had told her yesterday, when they crossed paths in the General Store, that Casey Jo and Dana had spent the night before near Tallahassee. He figured they would be in Orlando by early afternoon. It was now a little after four.

“Not today.” Guy’s dark, angled brows pulled together in a frown just as Alain’s did when he was worried. She wanted a son with those same dark brows and strong nose. Thoughts like that made her anxious to return to Houston. She needed to step back and take stock of her life before she did something she might regret for the rest of her days.

“She’s probably having too much fun,” Sophie said, knowing how lame the platitude sounded. She hoped she was right, though. Hoped that Dana was, this very moment, whirling around in a giant teacup, squealing with delight.

“She was still supposed to call me. I gave her my old phone so she’d have one of her own.”

“Maybe she lost it. Or forgot to charge the battery. She’s only seven,” Sophie reminded him gently.

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe something’s wrong.” He set his jaw and jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “My dad thinks Dana will be okay with her but I’m not so sure.” The deliberate omission of his mother’s name wasn’t lost on Sophie.

She hesitated before asking any more questions. She wasn’t certain how far into his confidence Guy would take her. Or how far she should try to probe. Did her renewed love for Alain entitle her to counsel his son? She decided to take it one question at a time, relying on her own good judgment to warn her when to back off. “Did anything like that ever happen when you were with your mother?”

He gave her a long, considering look, then nodded. “She took me to the mall one day when I was little. And when I got tired she set me down on a bench and left me there. For hours it seemed, while she went off looking for new shoes. I had to go to the bathroom really bad and I started to cry. Finally a security guy came over and asked me what was wrong. I was afraid to tell him. I was so dumb I thought I would get in trouble, not her. He was going to take me to the mall office and page her, except I thought it must be a jail. I really started to wail. You could hear me all over the mall. Just then, she came back.”

“Did you tell your father about it?”

“No. She cried and cried and said she was sorry and that it would make Dad mad at both of us if I told him about it. For a long time I thought the whole thing
was
my fault. I don’t want my sister feeling like that.”

“I can understand why you wouldn’t. I wish you’d tell your father what happened. It would make it easier for him to understand where you’re coming from.”

“I suppose,” he admitted grudgingly.

“He might have changed his mind if he’d known she left you alone like that,” she added gently.
So far, so good,
she thought. She hadn’t said anything yet to send him stomping off into the rain.

“Yeah, I thought of that, too.” He yanked up the zipper of his windbreaker. “But it’s too late now. Look. I gotta go. I’ll be back in the morning with Antoine to hang the reopening banner.” Amelia Prejean had agreed to start work on Monday. Sophie would plan some sort of back-in-business celebration for later, when the weather was better, but for now she just wanted to get the cash flow moving again. There were bills to be paid.

Guy pulled open the door of the opera house and the smell of rain swirled in on the wet air. Sophie had told herself she was only a sounding board for him, not a mentor, not a
parent
. But she couldn’t stop herself from offering her opinion. “Guy,” she called as he stepped outside. He looked back at her, pulling up the hood of his windbreaker. “Try not to worry too much about Dana. Remember, your dad has good instincts. He wouldn’t have let her go with your mother otherwise.”

He gave a curt nod, acknowledging her words, and loped off into the rain.

F
OR A FEW DAYS
it had seemed as if spring wasn’t too far away. But it had been an illusion. The wind was cold and wet as Alain got out of the Explorer and mounted the porch of Maude’s little house. Lights were burning in the living-room window and in the kitchen.

He rang the bell, watching as Sophie’s willowy figure came toward him, hips swaying gently, her silhouette frosted by the etched-glass door, just as his breath was frosted by the cold.

“Alain,” she said, her smile warming him from the inside out. “Come in out of the rain.”

“Thanks.” He stepped directly into the fussy, crowded living room. He lifted his head, sniffed appreciatively. The slightly musty, unlived-in smell was gone, replaced by…chocolate chip cookies.

Sophie’s smile turned into a grin. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not cookies. It’s a candle. I brought it over from the shop.”

“Too bad. I could use a couple of warm chocolate chip cookies.”

“That hard a day?” she asked, concern darkening her eyes. Was he just imagining it or was she holding herself aloof from him, withdrawing slightly? He couldn’t blame her if she started having second thoughts about getting involved again, especially after Casey Jo had barged back into their lives.

“I’ve had better. Three fender benders and two vandalism complaints out on the River Road. Probably the same kids spray-painting gang signs on outbuildings.”

“Gang signs?” She looked incredulous. “Gangs in Indigo?”

“The kids pick up on the signs and the colors, stuff like that, but they don’t have one damn inkling of what it truly signifies. I’ve got a good idea who it is. I’ll talk to their parents tomorrow, see if we can work some kind of deal with the barn owners and keep them out of court.” They weren’t bad kids and there was no reason in his mind to hang a juvenile rap around their necks.

“In other words you’ve been out in the rain all day.”

“Most of it,” he agreed.

“I don’t have any chocolate chip cookies but I do have oyster stew from the Blue Moon and a loaf of Loretta’s fruit-and-spice bread that’s a meal in itself. There’s plenty. We can share.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.” More than like, he thought to himself. It was his idea of heaven. Sophie bustling about in the kitchen, handing him bowls and plates from the cupboard to set the table; the smell of coffee brewing as the rainy darkness pressing against the windows was kept at bay by the warmth of her voice and the brightness of her smile. “You’ve been spending a lot of time here the last couple of days.”

She looked around the kitchen at the country blue-and-rose wallpaper and the brick-patterned linoleum that was at least twenty years out of date, the appliances that were a decade older than that, the shelves of knickknacks and salt-and-pepper shakers, and nodded. “I know I have. It’s time for me to start going through Maude’s things here. At first it made me too sad to think of, so I stayed away. Lately, though…” She shrugged and looked down at her plate, not meeting his eyes. “It’s beginning to feel like home—” She broke off and then corrected herself. “I mean, it feels like Maude’s home again, not just an empty house.”

“I noticed that, too, when I came in. Maybe it was the candle.”

She looked up and smiled. “And the soup. Sit down. Eat while it’s hot.” She was quiet a moment as he took off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair.

“Look at you,” she said, laughing. “You’re out of uniform.”

He glanced down at his jeans and dark-gray chamois shirt. “I do occasionally wear civvies.”

“I was beginning to wonder,” she said, still smiling. She motioned to a chair. “Sit.” When he was seated she asked, “Have you heard from Dana today? I asked Guy earlier but he said no.”

“Nothing,” he said curtly.

“They’re probably having too much fun to stop and phone home.” Her smile remained in place but she couldn’t mask the concern in her voice.

“It’s raining there, too.”

“I know.”

“Guy’s worried about Dana,” she said, setting a bowl of steaming soup in front of him.

“I spoke to him a little while ago.” Alain picked up his spoon. It was old-fashioned silver, heavy and ornate, made to fit a man’s hand. “I know he has a lot of issues with his mother, but he’s really got himself tied into a knot over this Disney trip.” He looked across the table at Sophie as she sat down with her own bowl of soup. “It’s not the first time I’ve allowed Casey Jo to have custody of Dana for a day or two. But it is the farthest away she’s ever taken her. God help me, I hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

“So does Guy,” Sophie said, buttering a slice of the fragrant spice bread before handing it to him. “Did he tell you why he’s so worried about Casey Jo taking Dana this time?”

“Not really,” Alain confessed. “I’ve got the feeling there’s more to it than he’s telling me, but he won’t give me any details.” She was looking down at her soup, spoon poised. “Sophie, did he tell you why he’s so angry?”

She didn’t answer him, or look up from her plate for a long moment. “Yes,” she said, finally meeting his eyes, her blue-gray gaze troubled. “But I don’t know if I should pass on what he said.”

“You have to tell me, Sophie. What happened? Did Casey Jo hurt him?” She had never been abusive to the kid. Thoughtless and careless, yes. But she had never hurt them. Or had she? Alain’s blood ran cold in his veins. “Did she hurt him, Sophie? I have to know.”

“Not physically,” Sophie said quickly, holding up her hand as though cautioning him to rein in his stampeding thoughts. “But she left him alone in a mall when he was very small. Long enough, evidently, to frighten him so badly he’s never forgotten it. He’s afraid something like that will happen to Dana, too.”

Alain wanted to slam the spoon down on the table, or throw the soup across the room, anything to relieve the surge of anger and guilt that shot into his veins. “I never knew. He never told me.” His mind raced back to the years he and Casey Jo had been together in New Orleans when Guy was very small. “I was working double shifts on the New Orleans PD then. I was gone a lot. If he remembers that one incident, there were probably others. How the hell could I have been so blind?”

“You weren’t blind,” Sophie said, reaching out to cover the fist he’d made around his spoon with her warm, comforting fingers. “You just said you were working double shifts. You were gone most of the time, trying to make a better life for your wife and child. You couldn’t have known what she was doing with Guy every hour of the day.”

“She was neglecting him even then and I should have recognized it. Damn. That makes me as bad a parent as she is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said sharply. She withdrew her hand. “All right. Maybe you should have recognized the signs with Guy, and maybe not. Maybe it did only happen once. You need to ask him.”

“That’s not going to do me any good tonight.”

“No, but it will in the future. Did you have any suspicion she was neglecting Dana?”

“No,” he said flatly. “She didn’t stick around long enough after Dana was born to neglect her. She was an accident, my sweet baby. Our final attempt at a reconciliation. It didn’t last long enough for me even to suspect Casey Jo was pregnant. We never shared a bed again, even though it was another two years before she took off for good.”

He rested his elbows on the table and covered his left fist with his right hand. He felt the chill as the warmth of her fingers faded from his skin. He looked at her, expecting to see the same loathing in her expression he was feeling for himself at the moment. Instead he saw compassion and something more underlying the blue of her eyes, like smoke swirling in the twilight sky. Something deeper, richer than empathy for his pain. Was it love, or only a reflection of what he felt for her?