“Do you remember the evening we cooked hamburgers on a grill beside the lake?”
“I remember the hamburgers were too well-done.”
“I remember why.”
They had spread a blanket as close to the hyacinth-choked lake edge as they could and flopped down to watch the Canada geese fly across the sunset in their uncanny V formations. Early September in Tallahassee wasn’t cold, but the setting sun had caused a subtle change in temperature, and Justin and Bethany had huddled together in mock protest.
On three sides the cabin had been surrounded by acres of pasture and cows, and on the other side by acres of water and a small alligator on a sunken dock at the lake’s edge. The privacy had been entirely too tempting for the two lovers, who completely forgot about dinner in their enjoyment of each other.
Bethany shivered at the memory, which like all memories of Justin she had attempted to suppress. “We were oblivious to everything. I don’t think either of us ever thought beyond the moment.”
“Was that really true for you?” Justin sounded hurt. Bethany moved to see his face, but the darkness kept her from reading his expression.
“Well,” she said carefully, “I certainly never thought it would turn out like this. Did you?”
He didn’t answer directly. “How did you think it would turn out?”
“I lived in a fairy tale,” she said quietly. “I believed in happy endings.”
“What exactly did you want?”
Bethany got up and walked to the fountain, examining the widening cracks in its brick sides. “Do you realize you suffer from an occupational hazard, Justin? Do you have any idea how upsetting it is to be interrogated like a witness in one of those trials you love so much?”
“What exactly did you want?”
“You’re still doing it.” She turned to face him, arms folded against the chill of both the night and the conversation. “Why don’t you come right out and ask me what you want to know?”
“I thought I was.”
“Then you have a lot to learn about questioning witnesses, and that’s hard to believe.”
Justin watched her standing there, the moonlight throwing shadows to accent the planes and hollows of her face. Then the delicate loveliness of her features was lost as the darkness deepened and the shadows melted together into a mask. For a moment she was lost to him again.
Fear spurred him to ask the question she had sensed. “Did you love me, Bethany?”
He saw her lift her hand to run her fingers through her hair. “With all my heart, Justin,” she said finally. The shadows shifted subtly, and once again each of her features was distinct, accented by unshed tears in her eyes. “I loved you more than I had imagined possible.”
He joined her, wrapping his arms around her against the chill. She didn’t resist. They stood quietly, as if observing a prayerful moment in tribute to something that would never be the same again. No matter what happened between them now, no matter what questions still lay unanswered, the innocent simplicity of that time, of that past love, deserved remembering.
“I thought maybe I had imagined so much of what happened between us,” Justin murmured against her hair. “Memories can alter with time. It’s easy to pretend things were different from the way they really were.”
“And why does it matter now?” Bethany asked. “The present is still the same. We still have a child asleep in my bed upstairs. We still have visiting arrangements to work out.”
“Doesn’t it matter that you were in love with Abby’s father when she was conceived?” He wanted to say more, to reveal his own feelings, but he could sense the time wasn’t right.
“Being in love with you made it more special and more painful. When you left and I finally realized our fairy tale wasn’t going to end happily, I had Abby to comfort me and to remind me of you. Obviously having her also made it more difficult to forget and go on with my life.”
“I’ve never forgotten.”
His words were comforting. Bethany knew Justin was reassuring her that their weeks together had been important to him, too. How important, she didn’t want to know. . .not yet, anyhow. There was still too much between them to be confused by more intimacy.
“I’m glad. I like knowing that what we had was special for you, too.” She put her finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s time for me to go inside now.” She tried to step back, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Do you remember how we’d say goodbye in Florida?” He kissed her on the forehead, his lips making a warm circle down her cheek to her chin before he came up to her mouth. “We’d always end an evening like this.” He kissed her, pulling her closer, until he could feel her soft breasts pushing against his chest. It wasn’t enough, just as it hadn’t been enough those first weeks they had been together. He wove his fingers into her hair, tugging gently on her bottom lip with his teeth. He could feel the shudder pass through her body before she brought her hands to his chest and pushed.
“No more,” she said, freeing herself. They stood slightly apart, staring at each other.
“Let me know when you want to see Abby again,” she said, finally breaking the silence.
“Wednesday night,” he said after a brief hesitation. “I’ll pick you both up after work. Does Abby like pizza?”
“You’d better take her without me. It might be easier.”
“Bethany, please come with us.”
A familiar melting feeling began deep inside her. “I could never say no to you, could I?”
“You’re managing more nos than I want to hear. Please say yes.” He was still so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
“All right.”
She turned, and her footsteps on the stairs were the only audible sounds in the still night. She shut and locked the door, and then on an impulse, she opened one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stepped out onto the balcony. Unobserved, she watched Justin walking down Royal Street. At the point where he should disappear down the next block he turned, raising his hand in farewell.
Somehow he had known all the time that she was watching him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ABBY SAT WITH elbows propped on the table, resting her chin on folded hands. In front of her was a white ceramic vase holding four perfect pink roses. Bethany wished she could say something to help as she watched her daughter stare morosely at the flowers. But there were no words comforting enough for what Abby had to deal with.
The roses had come the morning after their abortive dinner with Justin. With them had been a card to Abby from her father. The little girl was no longer outspoken in her anger, but subdued and clearly troubled. When Bethany made overtures, expressing her willingness to listen, Abby didn’t respond.
“Hey, kiddo, why don’t you go find the cat and bring him back up here.” Bethany’s neighbor, owned by Bum the cat, had conveniently gone away for a week and left Bum in their charge. As an enticement to cheer up her daughter, Bethany had been keeping Bum in their apartment, when they could find him.
Abby sighed softly, rose and trudged to the door, like a new recruit on a ten-mile hike.
Bethany listened as the plodding footsteps disappeared down the stairs. Obviously Abby was struggling to make sense of the changes in her life, and she was sure to be having ambivalent feelings. Bethany also suspected there was a healthy dose of guilt about the way she had treated her father.
“Hey, Beth.”
Lamar stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt with the logo “Let’s Fiddle A Round” and a bright-purple baseball cap, turned backward. “Where’s the p’tit zozo?”
“Didn’t you see her in the courtyard?” Bethany walked to the landing and peered over the railing. “She’s over there in the bushes on the other side of the fountain.”
“She didn’t say anything.” He plopped down on the sofa and rested his feet on the coffee table.
Bethany joined him. “She’s hardly talking to anyone right now.”
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��It will take her some time to get used to the idea of having a papa.”
Bethany had filled in Lamar on the changes in their lives during another impromptu visit. Amazingly, she found that telling the story was getting easier. Lamar reached around behind her and pulled her to rest against his large body. “And you, chère, how are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“And that means?”
“It means I’m adjusting, I guess.”
“A three-syllable word meaning nothing.” His fingers cut a quick flip in the air. At home Lamar often spoke the unique Cajun French, and out in the world an English liberally peppered with “Cajunisms” that he cultivated as part of his image. While many of his generation in Louisiana bayou country had tried to exorcise these colorful expressions, Lamar emphasized them. His very own version of sign language completed his communication skills. The French was musical; the English was passable. But the sign language was exquisite.
Bethany yanked on his beard, which was very long and easy to grab. “Know it all,” she teased.
“Arrȇté,” he said seriously. “You’re upset by all this, too.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“I’m no fool. What is it this man is doing to upset you so?”
“Don’t get that steaming Cajun blood in an uproar. Justin’s been very kind, considering everything I’ve done to him.”
“So what takes the roses from your cheeks?” Lamar ran his thumb down the side of her face.
“Hard work. I’ve been staying up late finishing masks. Mardi Gras’s only three and a half weeks away.”
“Can’t sleep, you?”
“Can’t sleep, me,” she said giving up the pretense of nonchalance.
“Maman Robicheaux has a cure for that. Come home with me for the weekend, bring the p’tit zozo and let Maman take care of you both.”
For Bethany the idea of so much bliss was tempting, and for a moment she closed her eyes to imagine it. “And I would leave your bayou fatter, rosier and probably married to one of your brothers. In fact, I would probably never leave your bayou at all.”
She could feel Lamar shrug beside her. “It could be worse, heh?”
“Much worse.” She sighed, snuggling closer. “It’s tempting, but under the circumstances I think I need to stay in town. Justin needs time with Abby now. Maybe later we can get away for a weekend.”
“Bethany?” Opening her eyes slowly she looked to the doorway, where Justin stood.
“I didn’t hear you. Come in.” She smiled in welcome, enjoying the sight of him in his crisply tailored duck pants and navy knitted shirt. Pulling away from Lamar, she got to her feet and stretched, walking to Justin to take his hand. “Come in and meet my good friend Lamar Robicheaux.”
Lamar stood, too, and the two men shook hands warily. “My pleasure,” Justin said formally.
“Also mine.”
“Sit down,” Bethany invited the two men, but Lamar shook his head. “Mais jamais. I’ve got a rehearsal. I want to spend some time with Abby before I have to go.” He raised his hand in casual farewell to Justin, pulling Bethany close for a kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to toss you over one shoulder and take you home anyway unless I see roses soon.”
After Lamar left she sat and patted the sofa beside her. “I didn’t expect you so early. When you said ‘after work,’ I was assuming you meant at least seven o’clock.”
“Well, I could see you weren’t expecting me,” he said dryly.
She looked down at her paint-spattered white overalls. “My clothes?”
“Your visitor.”
“Lamar shows up any old time he pleases. I can never tell when he’s going to come. He and Abby are an item.” She stopped at the injured expression that flitted, lightning quick, across Justin’s face. “But, then,” she said, “he has no past history to atone for. “
“Will she ever reach that point with me, I wonder.”
She patted the sofa again and faced him as he sat carefully beside her. “Did you see her before you came up? She’s in the courtyard, hiding beside the fountain.”
“I spoke to her. We’ve graduated from one-word to two-word answers.”
“I wish it were easier for both of you. Abby’s had a hard few days. How about you?”
The look he gave her spoke clearly of his need to unburden himself. “It hasn’t been easy.”
She waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. Even if Justin wanted to talk about his feelings, his natural reticence was making him wary. Finally sensing that “it hasn’t been easy” was as close to a revelation as she was going to get, she stood.
“I’ve got to change. Would you mind waiting while I take a quick shower?”
“Go ahead.” He stood and restlessly began to pace the limited floor space.
Justin was clearly a man who needed something to do. “Would you like to see where I make my masks first?”
“All right.”
She opened the door to her workroom and turned on the light, beckoning for him to follow. Her work table was cluttered with supplies. Feathers hung in long streamers from hooks on the wall, and masks of every shape and size covered one side of the room.
Justin whistled softly. “I’m in a museum. I didn’t expect you to have so many on hand.”
“Some were commissioned and haven’t yet been delivered. Some will be in a show two weeks after Mardi Gras. And some I just haven’t been able to part with. Like this one.”
She held up a creation of snow-white feathers on a base that resembled the head of an owl. The small, soft feathers covering the form graduated to larger ones sweeping in arcs over the side, floppy plumes outlined with shining crystals. More crystals lined the mask’s edges and the slanted peeping eye holes.
“Someday when somebody comes to me and says they want to be a snow queen for Mardi Gras, I’ll have the perfect mask. Maybe by then I’ll be tired of it and willing to sell.”
He ran his fingers down the feathered streamers. “I’ll bet this inventory cost a pretty penny.”
“I’ve got thousands invested in feathers alone. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so enthralled by plumage. If I liked papier-mâché the way Valerie does, I’d just need grocery bags, paint and glue. Can you imagine the thrill for an ordinary paper bag when its turned into a mask? It’s amazing the wonders Mardi Gras can launch.”
As she turned to leave him Justin was busy examining more. “Will you check on Abby while I’m showering? With the gate closed she can’t wander off, but I’d feel better if you’d look out occasionally.”
Engrossed in his investigation he nodded.
Once she was under the steaming water she realized she would have to put on her dirty overalls to get back into her bedroom or wear a smile and a bath towel. Lathering generously with soap from a French Quarter parfumeur, she reluctantly finished her shower and dried herself with a small hand towel. Cracking the door, she peered out, satisfying herself Justin was still in her workroom. She wrapped the dry bath towel around her, tucking it in tightly over her breasts, and stepped out of the bathroom.
A door slammed, and startled, she jumped. “You scared me to death, Justin,” she said, turning to find him watching her just a few steps from her workroom.
“Sorry about the door. You surprised me, too.”
She looked down at her scanty attire and felt a blush starting at the tips of her bare toes. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said, heading toward the bedroom.
“Wait.”
In the split second that she hesitated, Justin crossed the room to put his hands on her shoulders. He didn’t say a word.
She was too old to play the virginal ingénue. She looked up and held his gaze. “For the record I wasn’t trying to display my wares.”
His hands moved slowly up her neck, cupping the sides of her face as his thumbs stroked the skin under her chin. Then with his fingertips he explored the back of her neck, resting at the slight hollow space below her hairline.
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He finally spoke. “I could never find this before. It was always hidden by all that glorious hair.”
The moment was too sexually charged, and sadly her voice wasn’t quite steady. “Just one of many changes,” she warned.
“I like the change,” he said slowly, as if he had to consider carefully. “Your hair is so beautiful, but your neck is lovely, too. Maybe it was a shame to hide it.”
His fingertips continued their search. At the base of her neck they fanned out to lightly stroke the pliable skin of her shoulders. A quicksilver shiver whirled through her body and communicated itself to Justin’s wandering fingers. “Are you cold?” he asked with a smile.
“Yes, I’ve got to get dressed.”
He continued as if her words had never been spoken. “Your body has changed. You’re rounder, softer now. You were lovely then. You’re lovelier now.”
She could pull away or she could take this risk. She waited, but with caution, for whatever the next moment would bring.
His hands went to her back, holding her fast as he moved closer to her. “You smell like magnolias,” he whispered in her ear as his lips began to tease her earlobe. “Exactly like magnolias.”
She could feel his hand gliding between her damp skin and the rough terry cloth of the bath towel, following the curve of her spine. A flame was kindling inside her, and that secret—or perhaps not so secret—fire both warmed and worried her.
“No one else feels like you do.” His lips were burning a trail to hers, and she heard herself sigh in something too much like anticipation.
“Mommy!” Abby’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs. “Bum won’t come.”
Bethany abruptly stepped backward, grasping the bath towel as Justin dropped his hands. She raised her eyes to his again, but whatever he’d felt was carefully hidden. She wasn’t surprised. As always she was left to imagine the possibilities.
“Would you please tell her to come up and change. I’ll be out in a minute.” Without waiting to see if he could actually corral his daughter, Bethany left for the bedroom and closed the door behind her.
The Unmasking Page 10
