Bayou Born

chapter 32

Restless from laying on the couch with nothing to do, Branna tossed a blanket aside and headed for the garden, which had grown to the edge of over-grown. On Wednesday, she’d have a helper to tame the unruly weeds. Another step in building her own life. The carefree one she’d planned.

So how was it that she had nothing to do on a Friday night? That was as foreign as crossing paths with a Loup Garou, that mythical beast her Cajun relatives threatened would “git her” if she ever did anything wrong. No need for Santa and his “Naughty or Nice” list with a Loup Garou around.

The silence throughout her house rattled her nerves. She was accustomed to scents wafting from the kitchen. Greta was a fine cook, and folks vied for dinner invitations. She missed the background noise of sliding walkers and thumping canes. There was nothing quiet about G.G. Marie and Great Aunt Grace.

Usually she spent Friday evenings working—planning details of upcoming events or handling last minute must-do’s for an already-scheduled one. If not working, she played Scrabble or cards with the Old Aunts, or drove to Picayune with Greta to catch a movie. Only once in a while did she see Steven on a Friday night—his night to play poker with his old fraternity brothers.

On the rare occasion when she had time to herself, a good book and a cup of tea provided the purest pleasure.

Yet, after hours spent reading and sipping, too much pleasure all at once had overloaded her senses. She wandered the backyard searching for the right spot for stargazing. She plopped into an Adirondack chair, pulled her legs close, and looked up.

The twinkling lights that illuminated the sky made her feel closer to home. If anyone in her family gazed up at the stars right then, they’d see the same night sky and share that moment with her, though miles away. That thought comforted her.

Maybe James was looking at the stars. She could hope. And that he was thinking of her, too.

She hadn’t heard from him all day, not that he said he would call, but she’d hoped.

The house seemed empty without him. Her day seemed less bright. She enjoyed his company, even when they were verbally sparring. Something magical had happened between them the day of the storm. It had to be fate that made them cross paths like that at the bookstore. After all, he’d been avoiding her—noticeably absent at each of the organized functions up to that point.

Was their connection growing toward a relationship? That was the last thing she’d wanted when she moved to Lakeview. But now? She didn’t want to live without him.

The plan had been—career. Dating. Fun. Her job had to remain a priority. However, coming to Lakeview, she’d hoped to meet a few nice men with whom she had some shared interest. Have fun with no serious commitment.

Balancing a career and a relationship was doable. Momma was the perfect role model for work and love, but for some reason Momma had always stressed duty and honor with her, more than with Camilla and Carson. Maybe Momma took falling in love and marriage for granted. She made it all look so simple. Or maybe Momma thought Steven filled that spot in her life, therefore there was no need to focus on it any more. But of course, Momma didn’t know the truth about the man.

Branna looked skyward at a falling star that streaked in the darkness, then disappeared. She stared at the spot in the dark sky where it had last been. She didn’t want what happened to the star to happen to her relationship with James. Streak brightly, then burn out.

If the connection they shared continued to grow, would he consider leaving Lakeview for Fleur de Lis? There were jobs in Mississippi. Otherwise, what compromise could she make for her family and James?

But what did James want?

A phone ringing, a faint wail in the distance, sent her running for the house. She raced across the grass and jerked on the back door before the last ring. Breathless she said, “Hello?”

“Miss Lind, its Sadie. Have you seen the news?”

“No.”

“Dr. Newbern was shot. It’s on all the channels.”

Branna clutched the phone and grabbed the remote. The TV popped on. She flipped through the stations. “What happened?” she asked impatiently. “Crap! What station?”

“It’s on the eleven o’clock news. There was a shootout.”

Her heart stopped. “Is he alive?”

“Yes, they say he’s fine.”

“I’ve got it!” She watched a replay of the video taken by a security camera.

“It happened earlier today,” Sadie said.

“He’s alive,” Branna murmured.

“Yes. He. Is.” Sadie sounded amused.

“Ah, thanks for letting me know, Sadie.”

“I also called to check on you. Need anything?”

She started to ask if Sadie knew anyone who drove a black sedan with darkly tinted windows and who might have a reason to follow her, after all, Sadie did know everyone. But she decided against it. As quiet as the house was, if she mentioned it to Sadie, she feared the woman would return with an army for protection.

No need to make a fuss...yet. Maybe she’d never see the car again. “I’m fine. Thanks for letting me know about Dr. Newbern.”

“I figured you would want to know.”

She hung up after Sadie said good night.

“Do I call him or not?”

She paced in front of the couch. It didn’t matter if he thought her too pushy or that she was sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. If he had wanted her to know, he would have called, right? After all, he wasn’t laid up in a hospital hooked up to machines.

The image of James on his deathbed brought wetness to her eyes. Nothing bad could happen to him, she’d just found him. Just found love. Overwhelmed, she let tears fall. They flowed freely.

She’d sworn she would never cry over a man after Steven, but James wasn’t just any man. He was the dream of her heart.

No, she wouldn’t call. That would make her needy, right?

She flipped channels and caught the same taped footage on national news. She flinched as a young man fell to the ground after taking a bullet to his shoulder.

No, she wouldn’t call James.

But he’d been shot too!

She paced more, but pacing wouldn’t solve the problem. She could wear a hole in the floor while wondering about his injury. She needed to talk to him. Could he be out on a date? He’d said he made frequent runs to south Florida to deliver hay. Maybe he had someone he saw down there? A quick stab went straight to her heart. What if he wasn’t interested in a committed relationship with her? What if he only wanted casual? This was a man who “typed” everyone. Maybe he had a “like type” and a “not-so-much type.”

What if their relationship was exactly like the falling star?

The star’s fate had already been determined, but she’d be damned if she would—without a fight—allow her relationship with James to streak and flameout.

Plopping on the couch, she cradled her cell phone. Eleven p.m. What if he did have a date tonight? Then what? She’d deal with it. A phone call would take only a moment of his time. As long as she could know that he was okay, she’d handle any feelings about female competition later.

Punching in his number, she waited. He answered in two rings.

“Branna?”

Just hearing his voice over the phone allowed her to breathe deeply. “James, I don’t mean to disturb you. I won’t take but a moment of your time. I’m sure you’re—”

“It’s good to hear from you.” His voice sounded warm like whisky going down and smooth like velvet. He also sounded genuinely glad to hear from her.

“I saw the news.”

“Ah. TV.”

“Yes, the shootout made the news. I had to know that you’re okay.” Did she sound whiney? Too concerned?

“I’m doing fine, now that I’m talking to you.” Was he drinking? Or flirting? Maybe he wasn’t out on a date after all. Her imagination had worked overtime.

“I am happy to hear your fine. I won’t keep you.”

“I’m just hoisting a few brews with Bobby at our fleabag motel.”

“Have a good—”

“I’ve been thinking about you.” His voice was low and sultry. Seductive.

Quivers raced from her head to her toes. She wanted to crawl into bed with the phone and have James whisper to her all night.

“Good thoughts?” Dare she ask for the truth?

“Oh, yeah. You could say that. Miss Lind, would you go out on an official date with me tomorrow night?”

“Official?”

“This is me asking you proper for a Saturday-night date.”

Her heart pounded. Loud. The sound roared in her ears.

Hearing his voice provided great relief, however, the offer of a date made her giddy.

“Branna?”

“Yes. James.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear your dancing shoes.”