Bayou Born

chapter 16

A dream diffused into fractured images, and sleep slipped away. Startled awake, Branna looked around. This wasn’t in her room at Fleur de Lis. Clarity settled in when she spied the green glow of the digital clock as it shined five forty-five a.m.

“Oh,” she groaned. “Another hour...have to get up. Monday...school.”

Closing her eyes, she slowed her breath, trying to coax her body to relax and her brain to quiet. She wanted to return to luxurious sleep where worries dissolved like sugar in hot tea. While Lakeview had washed her nightly bad dreams about Steven away, maybe her anxiety over James triggered them again?

Flashes of the nightmare came back to her. She found herself on stage at the Valentine’s Day auction panicked and trying to cover her total nakedness with a large fan, one with feathers that a burlesque dancer might use. All of Bayou Petite stared at her, their jaws slack in stunned silence, while her view was of Steven’s back as he abandoned her there, totally humiliated.

For months, unpleasant dreams had exposed her lack of invincibility and opened her eyes to her own fragile vulnerability. Steven’s betrayal had crushed her confidence as easily as swatting a mosquito.

After that living nightmare, her choice to remain in Bayou Petite had locked her in a tug-o-war. Staying was a stand of defiance against him. However, staying meant she risked running into him in town and at local social functions. Unfortunately, their families traveled in the same circles, and even if they didn’t, given the size of Bayou Petite, sooner or later, they were bound to meet.

She punched her pillow and flipped on her side. So what had she done about his…his philandering? Isolated herself at Fleur de Lis for months. That made her feel like only half-a-coward, but in truth she lived like one, rarely leaving the property and always in fear of running into the man who destroyed her well-planned life. She would not allow him to shatter her family with his promiscuous feats, thus she remained silent about all of the reasons she’d broken off the engagement.

In the end, her decision to face her fears and get on with her life drove her from home. Drove her all the way to Florida.

In an hour, she needed to rise from the safety of her bed, to start her first day of teaching. However, after Saturday night, she would forever associate teaching with James. In her brain, the two were intricately linked.

Frustrated that her mind continued to roam, she planted her feet on the floor, then padded to the bathroom. Turning on the light, she stared into the mirror. “You can’t hide. You can’t leave. You’ve got to face this mess, face James.”

After squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush, she worked the brush in circles as her “good-girl” conscience berated her.

How could she have made love to him? A man assigned to oversee her transition. Maybe he had a girlfriend. In that case, he was a louse. Or maybe he had something causal...remember Sara Nell.

Branna scrubbed her teeth harder. She had always laughed at the radio preachers shouting about the demons of alcohol, but now she understood firsthand—consequences came from exercising the elbow in a bar. In fact, face-to-face with Steven again might be less uncomfortable than facing James at school.

The jitterbug that danced in her gut made her want to pack up and return to the safety of Fleur de Lis. Yet as much as that idea held an appeal, if she dragged herself home, she’d forever feel like a coward and a complete failure. Such admirable qualities for the next Keeper of Fleur de Lis. Not!

Talk about morning-after regrets.

No, she wouldn’t run. She could carry on as though nothing bothered her and reconcile that one night with James as a learning experience—one night of fun and pleasure. She, too, could act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The façade of strength was better than a no-show of fortitude.

She finished washing her face, then took a deep breath. The more she tried to shift her focus, the more her thoughts drifted to James. The man took cool tingles and ramped up them to a hot sizzle. Could the magnetic pull of attraction between them sit on simmer? It would take an ocean of self-control to keep her distance from him. The picture in her mind of James standing naked before the window in the moonlight made her dizzyingly hot. The heat of his hands on her body was more than a mere memory.

She fanned her face to cool the flush before putting on her makeup.

At least this morning she finally felt human.

Not like yesterday.

The weekend had been wild, at least measured by her standards. How did her sister and Biloxi manage to party all the time? Did a person build up endurance to liquor, loud music, and dancing? Or did a hot looking guy somehow trigger hormones that made a woman go crazy?

A chair held the clothes she laid out last night, but she went to her closet and searched for something different. A blue and white summer dress she’d picked from the Brooks Brother’s catalog last year and had never worn.

“It fits fine,” she said to her reflection in the mirror.

Partying as she had on Saturday night at Tin Lizzie would kill her before she could build up enough endurance to handle it on a once-a-week basis. How boring her life must seem to others. However, she’d take fine dining and a jazz concert over the raucous Tin Lizzie and bar food.

But as long as James danced with her, she’d probably follow him anywhere.

He’d brought her home yesterday morning, after a tall Bloody Mary with breakfast, rather than dropping her off at her car. Afterward, she slept most of the day, which helped her avoid the pounding in her head and the queasiness in her stomach. She rose once, thinking she might eat, but standing before the open refrigerator door, the idea of food made her first ever hangover worse. She worked at rehydrating—all the salt on the rim of the margarita had made her thirstier than parched cotton growing in a drought. However, after hours of sipping only water, she could pass for a bloated fish floating in the Mississippi. She switched to club soda and washed down Tylenol. That had finally stopped the throbbing in her head.

And she would do it all again because?

Being in James’ arms was like a fabulous vacation. One where she was wrapped in warm shearling before a fireplace while a blizzard blew outside, and at the same time, anticipating the thrill of racing fast to the bottom of a rollercoaster’s hill.

The idea was schoolgirl silly, but so true.

However, yesterday evening, when she was barely feeling human, James had called and announced that he headed toward her house to take her to her car. A deafening silence hung between them on the trip. They barely made polite conversation. She sensed something bubbling beneath the surface of his calm exterior. Did it have anything to do with her? She had been too embarrassed to ask.

Late last night, Steven had texted her. Wished her good luck on her first day of work. She threw the phone across the room. When would she ever get his thorn out of her side?

Branna pulled on her strappy scandals and took one last look in the mirror. She looked the part of a conservative college instructor. If she ever got a tattoo, which she wouldn’t because it would literally put G.G. Marie in her grave, it would read “stupid” on her forehead. The “good-girl” rant was back. Might as well get it all out. Take the licks now, and then try to banish the voice in her head forever.

Could she have been more predictable than getting drunk with a colleague, then falling asleep on him? To make her behavior even more egregious, she’d slept with him, a euphemism for sex, though they’d done some real sleeping, too. Yet, ever the gentleman, James had delivered her home. Walked her to the door and unlocked it after she fumbled the key. She found her bed, stumbled in that direction, and heard him close the front door. She barely remembered the sound of his car starting before he drove away.

What type had he labeled her after that?