Wronged (Book 1)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Chapter Nine

  Louis looked up at the house on Josephine Street and gazed at the mansion with its white columns and iron grillwork, which reminded him of Europe. He wondered again why Jean would give up Marian and all of this to live a lie with two other women? Marian was beautiful and witty and more strong-willed than any woman he’d ever met. Their verbal sparring both challenged and excited him. Even when things were tense, there was something about her that beckoned him like a siren to a sailor.

  Marian hadn’t shown up to the office today and after the way he’d left her the other night, he worried about her most of the day. Though he’d apologized that night, he felt as if she’d withdrawn to some unreachable place. On impulse today he’d bought her and the children beignets and brought her the latest financial figures. Anything to keep her trust and not arouse her suspicions during this time, while he worked to sell the business.

  The sound of a child’s laugh drifted on the breeze from the back of the big house. He walked down a flagstone path that led to a gate. A large crepe myrtle shaded him from the sun as he gazed over the top of the gate at Marian.

  The sun glimmered off her white shirtwaist as he watched her pitch a baseball to her son. The boy swung awkwardly and missed the slow pitch. The daughter he’d seen at Jean’s funeral chased after the ball, her braids swinging down her back. She scooped up the ball and threw it back to her mother.

  Marian ducked her head to keep from getting hit from the child’s throw.

  “Momma, you’re supposed to catch the ball not dodge it,” the little girl said, laughing.

  “Thank you, Renee, I’ll try to remember that,” Marian said picking up the ball. Then she gazed at her son. “Concentrate on how your coach told you to hold the bat, Philip.”

  The boy wrapped his hands around the bat and lifted it over his shoulder. “I am, but it feels funny.”

  “Give it time. It will get better,” Marian reassured the boy.

  She tossed the ball, the pitch going high and wide. Yet the boy swung, missing the ball by several inches.

  Philip picked up the baseball and glanced at it as if it were defective. He then tossed the ball back to his mother who caught it. After the child repositioned himself, Marian threw the ball again, but this time Philip stepped too close and the ball connected with his forehead, knocking the child back.

  Marian ran toward the boy, who dropped to the grass holding his head. “Oh my God, are you all right, Philip?”

  “Ouch! You hit me,” Philip said, embarrassment and hurt pride filling his voice.

  Louis pulled the gate open and walked toward the trio, wanting to make sure that Philip wasn’t hurt

  “Let me see your forehead. I didn’t throw it that hard, so you couldn’t have been hurt very bad,” Marian said, her hand brushing back the hair from his face.

  The boy scrunched up his face trying hard not to cry. “I want to quit. You can’t throw. I can’t hit. I knew it was a mistake to ask you to help me.”

  Louis tried not to laugh as Marian bent over a distraught Philip. The boy was not happy that his mother had hit him with the baseball.

  “Momma,” Renee said tugging on Marian’s skirt as she noticed him coming toward them.

  “Just a minute, Renee,” Marian replied, her hand stroking her son’s forehead. “There’s not even a bump.”

  “It’s that man,” the little girl said.

  As if she suddenly realized what Renee had said, Marian turned and glanced at Louis.

  Their gaze met and he stared into her gray eyes watching as her pupils widened slightly. She looked beautiful, mussed from playing with her children. He swallowed. Whenever she looked at him with that warm, lazy gleam, he felt the world disappearing, receding, and he wanted to block out everything but the two of them.

  “You’re fine, Philip,” she said, distracted, her eyes never wavering from Louis’s face.

  “Sorry to interrupt. You didn’t come to the office today and I was worried. I thought I would bring you the latest financial numbers along with some beignets I picked up in the marketplace.”

  She rose slowly and for a moment he wasn’t sure how she would react to his unannounced presence. He should have come through the front door, he should never have walked around to the back garden unannounced. But the sound of laughter had drawn him, lured him here, and when he’d seen her, he couldn’t turn away.

  She swiped a loose strand of silken hair away from her face. “Thank you. I’m trying to help Philip with his batting practice.”

  “She pitches like a girl,” Philip said standing and dusting off his pants, while keeping a close watch on Louis and his mother.

  Renee moved in closer to her mother, gazing at him in curiosity.

  “You want to play?” the little girl asked. “I think brother needs someone beside Momma to throw the ball. He’s not getting any better.”

  Louis laughed at the child’s honesty.

  Marian reached down and stroked her daughter’s hair. “Renee, Mr. Fournet has other obligations. He just dropped by to give me some papers.”

  Louis winked at Renee and then returned his gaze to Marian. He’d thought of going to a club later tonight to sit and drink, listen to the music, and maybe argue politics, but he liked the idea of playing baseball. And he wasn’t ready to leave, not before he’d proven to her he was sharing information about the finances of Cuvier Shipping. Not before he had a private moment with Marian.

  “I’m not busy,” he replied, with a slight shrug. “I can’t remember the last time I played baseball, but I bet I could remember how to pitch. I’d like to play, Renee,” Louis said gazing at the child. He glanced at Marian. “If it’s all right with you.”

  “But—but don’t you have someplace you need to be?” she stuttered, her eyes wide and questioning.

  The bright afternoon sun shone on her rosy cheeks and Louis didn’t know if her blush was from the heat or the fact that he intended to stay.

  He picked up the bat and handed it to Philip, then glanced at Marian, his gaze serious. “There’s no place I’d rather spend the afternoon.”

  She closed her mouth, seeming confused.

  “Good,” Philip said. “Maybe now I’ll get some pitches I can hit.”

  Louis laid the beignets and the papers down on a bench and began to remove his coat and loosen his cravat, pulling the tie from around his neck and tossing the clothing onto the bench. He removed his cuff links and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, past his elbows.

  Louis turned his attention to Philip. “I watched you from the fence and noticed you were holding the bat too high. Here, let me show you.”

  Placing Philip’s hands in the correct position on the bat, he then arranged the child’s body in an accurate stance. “Now cock your bat back a little more like this.” Louis stepped back and examined the boy’s posture. “It’s probably not perfect, but it’s closer. It feels awkward but you’ll soon get used to it.”

  Marian still stood at the center of the yard watching him warily. He walked toward her and took the ball from her.

  “I’ll pitch. You and Renee can be outfielders,” he said with a laugh.

  “I’ve never been one to play games. I think I should sit and watch,” Marian said shaking her head.

  “Oh no. A woman like you could use a few games in her life,” he said, his voice husky and low. “Philip, don’t you think your mother and Renee should play with us?”

  “Nah, they’re girls. Baseball is for men.”

  “Spoken by a child who has yet to discover women,” he said low enough for her ears only. “No,” Louis said. “Me and Renee against you and your mother, Philip.”

  “Oh, all right, but Renee can’t hit the ball and mother can’t run,” Philip said.

  “Well then we’re even,” Philip acknowledged. Marian stood there staring at him in shock. Finally she spoke, a slight smile on her lips. “You know, you just walked in here and suddenly you’re staying and we’re playing ball. Do yo
u always take control?”

  “Every chance I get. Besides, you have to admit that you needed some help. Philip could have been seriously hurt by one of your throws. I really am doing you a favor.”

  She laughed. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  “That’s because I’m good at what I do.”

  “Humph,” she said placing both of her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to challenge you on that one, because frankly I don’t want to know what you’re good at.”

  He winked. “You’d be surprised.”

  A blush stained her cheeks as they stood staring at one another. The thought of showing her just how good he could be slammed into his gut and he had to take a relaxing breath.

  “Come on, guys, let’s play ball!” Philip yelled getting impatient with the adults.

  Renee had already taken her place in the outfield and chased a butterfly while waiting for the action to commence.

  “Do you know how to use a bat?” Louis asked Marian.

  “Only as a weapon.”

  “Hmm. That’s something to remember.”

  She laughed. “Do.”

  The afternoon felt natural, as if they did this every day. After the atmosphere of Saturday night, it felt good to once again be verbally engaged with one another. He’d missed their skirmishes today at the office.

  “Your son’s getting impatient. I’ll throw to him first and then we’ll show you how to bat.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “Me, too,” he said wondering if he could get away with wrapping his arms around her while he showed her the proper techniques of holding the bat.

  Baseball had a way of growing on a man, especially when he was going to put his arms around a tempting woman like Marian, who challenged him mentally and physically. And for this moment he refused to consider the consequences of the growing attraction he felt for her.