The Unmasking

by Emilie Richards

  Prepared for fake enthusiasm, Bethany tried to be cordial “Hello, Danielle. Please feel free to look around.” As she watched the other woman walk from wall to wall, Bethany told herself she wasn’t jealous Danielle would be spending the day with Abby and Justin.

  “You look tired.” Justin came to stand in front of her as he held his daughter in his arms.

  “I am. After Mardi Gras I’ll be able to relax, but in the meantime I’m swamped with work.”

  “Did you do all of these?” Danielle asked with surprising enthusiasm.

  “Good heavens, no.” Bethany swept her hand toward the far corner, where her feathered masks hung. “I’m the feather artist, although we have people in the city and California who supply us with some from time to time. The leather masks are done by my friend Madeline, and some of the papier-mâché and wood carvings are done by Valerie, another artist who works with us. The rest are done by local artists who sell here on consignment.”

  “I’m really impressed,” Danielle said, and Bethany was sorry she had jumped to the conclusion the other woman wouldn’t be capable of appreciating her handiwork.

  “Thank you, I’m really glad you like them.”

  “Do you need more business?”

  “Sure, we can always use sales. We advertise by word of mouth, which is cheap, but not always effective.”

  “My mother’s carnival krewe is looking for unique favors for their big spring banquet.” Danielle pointed to a simple buckram mask covered with sequins, lace and swirls of feathers. “These would be perfect. Could you handle an order for two hundred, each a little different?”

  “With enough notice.”

  The shop bell tinkled again, and Bethany waved at Lamar, who, for once, was dressed sensibly in a plain knit shirt and conservative dark pants. The shirt was pink, and instead of the emblem of an alligator, or even a crawfish, it had a cockroach going after a crumb. It was as conservative as Lamar would ever get.

  “Lamar, come meet Danielle.” Bethany waved casually at Danielle and made the introductions. Justin put Abby down, and she promptly ran to Lamar and threw her arms around his legs. It was a measure of the improved relationship between the little girl and her father that Justin didn’t bat an eye. Instead he motioned Bethany to one side as the two new acquaintances chatted, the little girl wedged between them.

  “I’ve missed not seeing you,” Justin said, his eyes warm.

  “It doesn’t look like you’ve been too lonely.”

  Justin’s face lit with a slow grin. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were. . .”

  “I’m not. Not at all.” She met his eyes with a challenge in her own, and then smiled at the laughter she saw. “Are you having as much trouble as I am figuring out what our relationship is supposed to be?”

  Justin brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering along her jaw. “Who taught you to be absolutely honest about everything you feel?”

  “I spent my childhood watching adults who were incapable of expressing a single honest emotion unless they were drunk or angry,” she said. “I decided never to be that way.”

  “It was a wise decision.” And then, in front of Lamar and Danielle, who were still having an animated conversation, judging from the speed with which Lamar’s hands flew, Justin bent and brushed a kiss against her lips. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Working,” she said softly.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  She shook her head with genuine regret. “I’m swamped. I can’t.”

  “Tomorrow at 7:00. We can take Abby to my mother’s for the evening. I want you to show me the French Quarter.”

  “You’re making this difficult.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll have to be home early enough to get some work done.”

  “Whenever you say.”

  The conversation between Danielle and Lamar was progressing at top speed. It seemed to have something to do with Lamar’s music and Danielle’s ideas for promoting their band. Far from being offended by her need to take over, Lamar seemed delighted in her interest. And Danielle seemed genuinely fascinated by the big Cajun, turning on all her baby-doll charm.

  “They’re getting along,” Justin said.

  “Lamar seems fascinated.”

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not unless she’s just playing with him.”

  “I wanna go to the zoo.” Abby had separated from the animated couple and was pulling at her father’s hand to move him toward the door.

  “Danielle, are you coming?” Justin asked.

  She turned with an expression of regret. “I’ll be right there.”

  Bethany watched as Lamar and Danielle exchanged phone numbers, and she gauged Justin’s reaction. His smile was genuine and benign. Far from being upset, Justin hardly seem to notice. Bethany kissed the green-eyed monster of jealousy goodbye as she blew a kiss to Abby, who finally succeeded in getting Danielle to follow her out the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I DON’T HAVE the time, but I’ve got to buy something to wear tonight. Nothing I own is suitable. See what I mean?” Bethany rummaged in the closet she shared with Abby and pulled a drab sweater and skirt from the back. “Remind you of Mississippi mud?”

  Madeline sat on the antique mahogany four-poster bed that was Bethany’s pride and watched her friend obsess about that night’s dinner. “I have a feeling Justin will like you in anything you wear, but when was the last time you shopped for yourself?”

  Bethany flopped down beside Madeline to finish the last sip of cinnamon-and-rosehip tea on the night table. “I’m not sure, but I think BC was tacked after the date.”

  “Buy something bright. You have the coloring to carry it off. Hot pink or maybe bright yellow.”

  “I was thinking about red.” A long time ago she had thrown away the red sundress she’d worn the afternoon Justin walked into her life. Did he remember anything about that day?

  “Red would be amazing. I’ve never seen you in red.”

  “Justin has.”

  “You’re excited about this date, aren’t you?”

  “I might as well wear a neon sign on my chest. Sometimes I think that was one of the reasons he never came back.

  “And what do you think at other times?”

  “I think he just never cared very much. That I was a diversion.”

  “If I had to make a guess, I’d say it was the former.” Madeline rose and took Bethany’s glass and her own into the kitchen. Bethany followed, watching the older woman wash and rinse the dishes.

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Well, he’s a very private person. I think you probably scared him to death. You’re so intense and open. He probably didn’t know what to do with you.”

  “All he had to do was love me. I didn’t ask for anything else.”

  “To someone like Justin, honey, that’s asking for everything.”

  Bethany knew that if Justin asked now, she would probably give him everything, but that was a burden Madeline didn’t need.

  Instead she managed a laugh. “Maybe I should pretend I’m not interested and play hard to get. I should be pretty good at it. Vanishing into thin air five years ago probably set the bar.”

  “The real question is whether you are interested, isn’t it?”

  Joking about her feelings wasn’t an art Bethany had developed. The question was one she had been living with since the day Justin stepped up to her table at the flea market. It had continued to saturate every encounter as she and Justin tried to resolve their differences. Finally, last night, when she had awakened again from the familiar abandonment dream, she knew the answer. She was still totally, completely and dangerously in love with Justin Dumontier.

  There was no point in pretending otherwise, not to Madeline. “I’m probably heading for heartbreak again.” She screwed her face into a mime-worthy contortion. “That must be a country song, and I guess I�
�m just one more in that sorority of sentimental women suffering from unrequited love.”

  “I’d love to reassure you, but it’s difficult not to remember how stricken you looked for the first year after Abby was born. You were a shadow of the teenager I had enjoyed teaching so much in high school.”

  “I moved on.”

  “I know. The experience with Justin might have tamed some of your joy of living, but you developed a quieter maturity that’s also appealing and real.”

  “Bad love affairs are a fact of life. “

  “They are, yes.”

  “But not all love affairs are bad. And things can change. People can change.”

  “And what will happen if Justin never returns your love?”

  “You don’t have to worry.” She reached over and squeezed Madeline’s hand. “I’ll never let any man shatter my life that way again.”

  “So what’s the difference?”

  “I’m stronger, more resilient—” she lifted her pointed chin a notch “—and more determined.”

  “Determined?”

  “In the next few weeks Justin Dumontier isn’t going to know what hit him. He may not recognize it yet, but that man’s about to fall hard. I don’t think I’ll come out of this fight a loser, but if I do, at least I’ll know that this time I gave it my best shot.”

  * * *

  “I DON’T SEE why I can’t go with you and Justin.” Abby sat cross-legged on the bed, watching her mother slide into the red dress she had bought that afternoon. It was such a major success on Bethany’s petite figure she was almost afraid to wear it. The silky fabric clung where it was supposed to cling and dipped provocatively where it was supposed to provoke. Since it was still early enough in the year to be chilly, Bethany had also splurged on a shawl that picked up the bright red of the dress and added subtler shades of gold and green.

  “I told you, you’re going to your grandmother’s house. She’s cooking a special meal just for you.”

  “Does she cook?”

  “Yes, and Mrs. Waters isn’t going to be there tonight, so she’s going to make everything.”

  “You and Justin don’t want me.”

  “Go wash your face and hands, kiddo. Even if you’re not happy about it, your father and I are going out by ourselves. And you will be clean before you go to your grandmother’s.”

  Fortunately the apartment was so small the little girl couldn’t delay the walk to the bathroom long enough to keep them from being ready on time. When Bethany let Justin into the courtyard, she and Abby were both waiting.

  Justin’s eyes traveled over Bethany slowly before he held out his arms to his daughter. She had chosen to carry the shawl, a rather daring decision, considering that she felt exposed in the red dress. Since the vivid coloring of her outfit required some additional color of her own to offset it, her makeup was more dramatic, too. She had fastened her shining hair back on one side with a comb, and added golden hoops in her ears. A spot check in the mirror had assured her that she looked her best. Justin’s expression assured her of the same thing.

  “You’re more beautiful than any carnival queen I’ve ever known,” he said, referring to their previous conversation.

  “What about me?” said Abby with the unmistakable ring of jealousy.

  Justin focused his gaze on his daughter and looked as if he was trying not to smile. “You are absolutely gorgeous, just the way you always are.” Bethany could tell he was pleased. The question was another sign that their daughter was beginning to care about her father.

  Abby batted her long eyelashes at her father like a soap-opera vamp. “Can I go with you and Mommy tonight, Justin?”

  Before Bethany could repeat her own decree on that subject, Justin shook his head. “Your grandmother would be too disappointed, and your mother and I need some time alone.” He glanced at Bethany, and she wondered if he was afraid she had promised the little girl she could come.

  “Abigail Justine, I already told you that,” Bethany said.

  Satisfied Justin tickled Abby under the chin. “Your grandmother’s making red beans and rice with sausage, just for you.”

  “Hot sausage?”

  Justin nodded.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll go. I like hot sausage.”

  “You’re raising a native, Bethany,” Justin said as the three of them walked toward his car.

  “You say that like you’re concerned, native.”

  The drive to St. Charles was short and lively, with a securely belted Abby still managing to bounce on the seat behind them. For once Mrs. Dumontier was the picture of a storybook grandmother, with an apron and a trace of flour on her nose. Abby immediately forgot to look disgruntled, and ran off through the big house with her proud grandmother close behind.

  Justin turned the car back toward the Quarter, and they parked on a quiet side street just off Royal. Taking Bethany’s hand, they strolled leisurely toward Antoine’s, which he had selected. Rain had fallen earlier in the afternoon, and the setting sun exposed puddles of water in the nooks and crannies of the old buildings, like the sparkle of a thousand diamonds. Bethany squeezed Justin’s hand in appreciation. When they reached the restaurant they bypassed the line standing in the street, to be ushered in immediately by the maître d’.

  As they made their way to a table she examined the gracious old rooms with delight. Their waiter seated them in one of the interior dining rooms, and she wasn’t sure what was more exquisite, the dark wood, perfectly muted lighting or what was obviously exquisite service. This was historic Antoine’s, where secrets had been told, business had been conducted, presidents had dined, and promises had been sealed for more than a century and a half.

  “I’ve never been here,” she said, although she suspected he already knew.

  Justin had chosen to sit beside her, adding the correct touch of intimacy. “I thought you were going to give me a French Quarter tour, not vice versa.”

  “My tour wouldn’t cost a thing,” she joked, “and it’s strictly a daytime affair. I hardly venture out at nighttime.”

  “How do you spend your evenings?” he asked, looking up from the wine list.

  “Like most single parents. I take care of Abby. Or I work. Occasionally Madeline relieves me and I go out to dinner with friends or over to the club where Lamar plays.’’

  “Abby really destroyed your freedom, didn’t she?” He was looking down again, and Bethany couldn’t discern what, if anything, lay behind the question.

  “Everything in life’s a trade-off. How could I wish she hadn’t been born?”

  “It sounds like having any personal life has been difficult.” The tone was again noncommittal.

  “Personal life?”

  This time he met her eyes. “It sounds like it’s been difficult to have a relationship.”

  Hedging, she said, “Well, Abby hasn’t made it easy.”

  Their waiter reappeared to take their order for drinks. Justin ordered a California Cabernet for himself, but Bethany asked for sparkling water.

  She remembered enough French from college to decipher most of the elaborate menu they were given, but the choices were too varied to make an easy decision. She set it on the table. “I’ll never decide, and you’ve been here before so you know what they do best. How would you like to order for us? I like everything.”

  They chatted about their days until drinks arrived. Then, in flawless French, Justin ordered a full array from the menu, choosing a variety of well-known and more obscure dishes. He included Oysters Rockefeller, originally Antoine’s own creation, and enough other seafood dishes, including alligator soup with sherry, to make the meal a New Orleans feast. “Is someone else joining us?” Bethany asked after their waiter disappeared.

  “Not unless you invited them.” Casually he took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “It may sound like a lot of food, but I seem to remember you could eat any two-hundred-pound athlete under the table.”

  Every place his fingers touched had a l
ife of its own. The years of separation had done nothing to her basic feelings of love and desire for this man. No one had ever affected her the way he did, and whether it was a good thing or not, she knew that no one else ever would.

  “Is something wrong? Am I hurting you?”

  She realized she had been staring, entranced, at their entwined fingers. “No,” she said softly. “The only time you ever hurt me was when you stopped touching me.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.” Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed each fingertip in a public demonstration of emotion that confounded her. Never in those weeks long ago when they had been together almost constantly had he shown his desire for her in front of others. Except for the time he had kissed her under the mimosa tree on the Florida State campus, he had never done anything more erotic in public than hold her hand.

  She shivered as he kissed the sensitive skin of her palm before he lowered their hands, still linked, to the table. “I believe you. I never thought you set out to hurt me. In your way, I think you tried to let me down easily. We never talked about commitment. I had no reason to expect anything permanent. I was so naive.”

  “Innocent would be a better word. Beautiful, desirable, incredibly warm, you were everything any man could want.”

  His voice was low, and the faint accent she always found so charming became stronger as he spoke. “I’d never met anybody like you, Bethany. You were like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. At first I thought my fascination would wear off after we spent more time together. Instead it increased. With you I felt so vulnerable. For the first time I knew what it must be like to be bewitched.”

  Justin was getting closer to his reason for behaving as he had. Bethany could feel her heart beating unevenly. Hearing his explanation wasn’t going to be easy. In fact now she wondered if she had left Tallahassee without telling him about the pregnancy because she had been terrified to hear what he really felt.

  “You don’t have to go on, Justin. It was a long time ago,” she said, at the same time she berated herself for her lack of courage.