Bayou Vows

by Geri Krotow

  “I think I’ll stop by The Refuge later tomorrow, if it’s okay with you.” His eyes, like Gloria’s, glowed with a sense of purpose and joy. Clearly, becoming grandparents was easier on the heart than what Jena and Brandon were experiencing.

  “You’re always welcome, of course, but you don’t have to drop in all the time, Dad. Seriously. I know you’re taking an interest in my life, and Brandon’s and Henry’s. That’s enough. You’ve got too long of a drive, anyhow.”

  “If you’re certain—”

  “I am.” She hugged them all and left, the sense of her heart being left with her nephew so strong she’d have never believed it if she hadn’t experienced it.

  “Jena, wait up.” Brandon’s plea stopped her. She turned and faced him. Brandon looked like he’d run a marathon, yet he’d spent most of the night sitting around and waiting with their parents.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s—it’s really intense, isn’t it? Having little Will come into our lives.”

  “It is. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had no idea how this would make me feel.”

  Brandon’s eyes filled with compassion. “You deserve to be happy, too, Jena.”

  Annoyance tugged at her newfound baby bliss. “What is it with you, and Mom and Dad? I know I deserve a good life. Trust me, I have it. I’m working the job I’ve always wanted, I’m settled here in NOLA for good. Sure, I have to find a more permanent place to live, but I will in time. Even Mom and Dad have finally come around to accepting reality and being better people. And now, there’s little Will, like you said. Why does everyone think I’m miserable?”

  “You almost died in Paraguay.” He lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “I don’t know what you were specifically doing there, or who you really worked for, but I got enough out of Jeb to know you were in awful shape when he got to you.”

  “And your point is?” She fought hard to keep her own self-pity and self-recriminations at bay. It’d be easy to give into the martyr narrative and take all the attention she could get from her family. But she didn’t need attention—she needed solid bonds, connections.

  What she’d thought she’d always have with Jeb. She shoved the rogue thought away, needing time alone.

  “All I’m saying is that I do hope you’re back home for good, and that you didn’t take on Dad’s project just to please him, or the family as a whole.” Brandon’s brow furrowed, and she let out a mental sigh of relief. At least Brandon wasn’t chastising her for her non-relationship with Jeb, or trying to get her to make it more, like Hudson and Gloria had.

  “Thanks, Brandon. I’m good, really. Yes, I was in a pickle at the end of my Navy time, but that’s in the past. I’m over it. And trust me, just like you never wanted to be a lawyer and follow in Dad’s footsteps, I never would have taken on The Refuge with your help if it wasn’t already my big dream.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day that you accepted anything from anyone.”

  “Whoa—it’s not a handout, Brandon. You said so yourself. You gave me the start-up funds, but I’m going to have it running on its own. That’s what Jeb’s doing for us, frankly.”

  “To be fair, I have to tell you I’ve asked him to come back to work with me. At Boats by Gus.”

  “What did he say?”

  Brandon shook his head. “I couldn’t convince him to. He’s determined to move to Atlanta. It’s an incredible job offer, and I can’t blame him. And underneath it all is the fact that he doesn’t think I’ll ever completely trust him again.”

  “Will you? Trust him?”

  “With my life. He saved yours.”

  “Yeah, he did.” She savored time with each of her brothers, but not being drawn into more of Jeb’s business. Healthy boundaries were a must if she was going to get through two more weeks with Jeb, and then see him leave. “I gotta go. Let me know if you think Sonja or Henry want more help from us sooner.”

  “Will do.” They gave one another a quick hug and Jena headed for home, where she prayed she’d be able to sleep.

  And stop thinking about Jeb.

  Chapter 10

  Monday morning Jeb arrived at The Refuge a full fifteen minutes early to find Jena already at her desk, poring over a stack of grant proposals.

  “Good morning.” He rapped on the doorframe before stepping into her office. Her face was lined with exhaustion, and the huge steaming mug of coffee on her desk underscored her need for sleep. “You look like you’ve been here for hours.”

  “‘Morning. I’ve been here for two.”

  “Congratulations on your nephew.”

  “Thank you. Brandon told you?” She ran her fingers through her hair, something she did when she was tired or stressed.

  He nodded. “Sounds like it was a long day for all of you.”

  “It was. You never came.” She made the statement sound like a question.

  “Nah. That was a real family event. I’ll meet the little dude soon enough, I’m sure.”

  “He’s a keeper.” Soft joy effused her tired features and he took a step closer.

  “Wait a minute—is the woman who said she’d never have a baby—who, in fact, detests babies—smitten?”

  “Not so fast. Of course I love him, he’s my nephew.” She stretched her neck and took a sip of her coffee. “We waited forever once I got to the hospital. While we were there, Brandon mentioned that he knew I was a mess when you found me in Asunción. Are you sure you didn’t say too much?”

  “Certain. Anyone can see the scar on your face, Jena, even with your makeup on. It’s definitely faded, but it’s still there. I didn’t share anything you asked me not to. I’ve told you that.” Exasperation that she didn’t fully trust him made him wish he’d skipped coming in to say hello, even if he did have to get the day’s list of to-dos. “Do you have anything new to add to my responsibilities this week?”

  She gestured to the papers on her desk. “I’ve started to look at the grant proposals. You’ve done a hell of a lot of work in such a short time, Jeb. Thank you.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “How much of the construction work are you still in on?”

  “Not a lot—if they need extra hands to paint or someone to sweep up, I’ll help. But I’m pretty much on the desk job now.” His desk had arrived last week, along with a computer. “I’m happy to paint my office, of course.”

  “I’d rather you stick to the grants for the short time you’re with us, and the budget breakdown. It’s worth it if the contractors are on the job an extra day or two to finish the painting. You bring in way more with your financial expertise.”

  “That’s the goal, anyhow.” He looked around her office, the fresh paint gleaming as sunlight hit it from the large window that overlooked what used to be a side garden. “We can have some shrubs installed, make your view nicer.”

  “That’s not important to me. I’m just glad to have a window. My Louisiana State job gave me a desk in a shared office with no windows. Very nineteen-seventies.”

  “I imagine a lot of your work won’t be done in here, anyway.”

  She sighed. “You’re correct. Once our clients come in, I’ll be working in the meeting rooms and the lounge.” Jena spoke about work with an air of detachment, almost distraction. Was she missing her undercover job?

  “I can’t imagine this kind of work gets your adrenaline pumping. I mean, after your last job.”

  Laser blue eyes focused on him, trying to look into his soul. “It’s not comparable. The satisfaction I get from placing someone with the right agency or job or family—that’s what keeps me coming back to social work, what attracted me to it in the first place.”

  “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “Stop saying things like that. As long as you’re working here, The Refuge’s business is your business. And when you leave, you
and I have our family bond. That doesn’t change.” Her demeanor reflected nothing less than cool professionalism, but the tone of her voice tore at his conscience. Part of him had thought Jena wanted to keep things like they were back when they’d had their whole lives in front of them. Before she’d taken the clandestine job, before the concept of a sex-only relationship entered their minds. When it’d been just Jeb and Jena, two childhood buddies who trusted one another implicitly.

  “Jeb? You’re drifting.” She turned her attention to her computer monitor.

  “Just going over my daily list, is all.” Liar. He’d never stop wondering if there’d been a point when he could have saved the relationship they’d had, the one they’d only begun to dream about. But it was fruitless—in fact, harmful—to pursue that line of thought. It’d squelch their tentative truce, and for sure destroy any chance at a friendship, no matter how platonic.

  “Why don’t we meet in the conference room this afternoon? I’ll have my dad join us on speakerphone and we’ll bring in the new social workers.”

  “Sounds good.” He knew a dismissal when he heard it. He left her office, and it wasn’t until he’d finished his third cup of morning coffee that he realized what had bothered him so much about Jena: She’d put on a good show about being a new aunt and all, but she hadn’t been able to subdue her basic sadness.

  Jena was grieving, but, for the life of him, he had no fucking clue why. Worse, she wasn’t going to share any of it with him.

  * * * *

  Jena covered her face with her hands the minute Jeb was out of her office. That had been so hard, holding back from the one she’d never had to keep anything from.

  Of course, if she’d held back that one little line of text after she’d asked him to tell her family her last wishes, they wouldn’t be tiptoeing around one another as if they were afraid of setting off a land mine.

  She’d barely slept last night, the sounds of the fetal monitor in Sonja’s delivery room echoing through her mind, images of little Will sleeping in her arms sending shocks of exultation into her heart.

  Starting a family was a very big deal. Until she’d watched her brother help his wife bring life into the world, Jena hadn’t given having a family of her own much thought. She thought maybe there was a teeny tiny possibility “someday.” Her CIA job had precluded it, as far as she was concerned. And more importantly, she’d never yearned to find the right man. The concept that the right person for her was out there, that fate would bring them together, had always been lost on her.

  Then she decided to leave the CIA. She’d known the Paraguay mission was going to be her last. It wasn’t the injuries, though they’d been extensive. It wasn’t her aging body, either. Still shy of her thirtieth birthday, she knew she had another five, ten years as a full-on case agent if she really wanted it. But the fire in her belly had petered out. At first she’d been lost without it, wondered if she was having some kind of mental breakdown. Ever since the CIA recruiter had convinced her of the impact her duty and service would have on her nation’s liberties, she’d been all about her undercover work, but her job as a social worker sustained her need to make a difference between covert operations. It had been the perfect balance for her intellect and athletic abilities.

  And then, it hadn’t. Maybe she’d seen one too many colleagues suffer at the hands of brutal enemies. Or it could have been watching her superiors call it quits, one by one, as they chose to put family before work.

  Jena didn’t have anyone but her brothers at that point, since she’d had a strained relationship with her parents for years. Her inability to be at Henry’s wedding had hurt, too.

  “Good morning, Jena.” Her father’s beaming face didn’t look a bit as tired as she felt.

  “Dad! You were taking today off, remember?”

  “Turns out becoming a grandfather is energizing. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d drive in and spend a half day here.”

  “And maybe catch another peek at little Will?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. To be honest, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.” He stepped into her office and motioned at one of the chairs. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Jena appreciated any distraction from her own thoughts, even if that distraction was her father. She’d been in her own head too much lately, and her head was always a sketchy neighborhood.

  He set his coffee on her desk and sat back. “Your mom and I want to be helpful in-laws and involved grandparents, but we don’t want to be overbearing. My own parents were rather stifling.”

  “Grandma and Grandpa?” All Jena remembered about the couple, quite elderly by the time she was born, was that their house always smelled great from Grandma’s cookie baking, and the sound of Grandpa’s loud, booming laugh.

  Hudson chuckled. “Yes, indeed. They were great grandparents to you three, but they put your mother through her paces. My mother was very opinionated, and no woman was going to be good enough for her son. Once she realized your mom wasn’t going anywhere, she focused on telling her how to raise you all.”

  Jena shook her head. “I had no clue. To me, they were loving and sweet, always giving me whatever I wanted.” Her grandparents were nothing like the bigots her parents had been.

  “As they should have—it’s what grandparents do. But the other part isn’t desirable, that’s for sure.” He paused, and she sensed his discomfort.

  “Dad, don’t worry about it. Your relationship with them is only going to get better with time. Your attitudes were pretty unbearable for a long time. It doesn’t heal overnight.”

  “I appreciate that. And I have to say, it’s never fun when your kid takes you to task for your behavior, but I’m grateful for all the times you stood up to me and called me on my bullshit.” He shook his head. “I was an ass. For too long.”

  Jena loved the humble, more open-minded man who sat in front of her. But she couldn’t—and wouldn’t—defend who he’d been before, the choices he and Gloria made. Hudson had kept his law office in the city, but he didn’t do what she and her brothers thought he should—more pro bono work to help the thousands who’d lost everything to the storm.

  “We’re always learning in life, right, Dad? That’s what I’m figuring out, and I’m less than half your age.”

  “Ouch.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I deserved that. What are you learning, besides how to build a safe haven for our community?” She liked that he was taking ownership of NOLA again by using “our.”

  “I’m learning that work isn’t everything.” She’d inherited her workaholic tendencies from him.

  “You’re way ahead of the rest of the crowd then, Jena. What gives me so much joy these days is seeing that despite some of the screwed up values your mother and I could have passed on to you and your brothers, you three didn’t take on the bad stuff. You rejected any hint of thinking you were any better than others. Ever since you were a little girl you’ve never divided people into groups.”

  “That’s a credit to my generation, too, you know.” Jena knew her father was right; she’d always known her parents’ prejudices were unwarranted and wrong.

  “It is, but let me finish. Even though I could have been a better father, you still turned out pretty damned well. I’m proud of you.”

  She blinked back tears. So many times she’d have paid to have her father speak to her like this, to admit he was wrong. That was what she’d wanted as an adolescent. But now what mattered was that he’d changed and continued to work on himself.

  Maybe she could take a page from her father’s manual on how to start over.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m happy to see you and Brandon talking again, too.”

  “Don’t think Henry didn’t have his issues with me, too. I almost lost him and Sonja. And to think I’d have missed out on that little boy.” His eyes misted and she knew he was thinking of little Will.


  “You don’t have to keep beating yourself up, Dad. What have you always told me? ‘It’s okay to glance at your past, but don’t stare.’ You’ll be fine, as long as you never forget how awful you were.”

  Hudson stood and picked up his coffee cup. “That’s not bad advice.”

  “See you later, Dad.”

  “As long as it’s before noon. I want to drive back to Baton Rouge before the traffic hits.” He walked out, and it reminded her of A Christmas Carol. Her father represented her future. If she insisted on making work her number one priority, and refused to face her own shortcomings, she’d end up with a lot of career success and no family. She didn’t want to wait until she was sixty to figure out what mattered in life. Change was inevitable, and at some point the long hours would take their toll, the high from helping people wouldn’t hold the same punch.

  And unlike her father, who’d been with her mother forever, she’d have no one.

  * * * *

  Jena could tell Jeb was distracted through the entire meeting. He kept checking his phone—whether for a text or email, she didn’t know. She didn’t have to. The pain was the same. The realization that no one understood her like he did—and even he didn’t know her.

  She’d never revealed herself fully to anyone. Intimacy wasn’t in her deck of cards. Physical contact of the most intimate kind, sure. Sex for sex’s sake? No problem. Having to work side by side with another undercover agent to accomplish a mission? She’d been the first one to raise her hand.

  There was no one to blame for Jeb not knowing her better than herself. She’d built and maintained an intricate wall around her.

  “I’m not seeing how you think you’ll get all of these grants awarded in time to fund the first year of The Refuge, Jena.” Brandon frowned as he flipped through the pile of grants and looked at the spreadsheet Jeb had provided. “That’s assuming we’ll even get them. It’s all a gamble.”

  “It’s not a gamble, it’s an investment in The Refuge’s future.” She didn’t want to get into it with her brother in front of the growing staff. She, Jeb, Brandon, two new social worker hires, and a receptionist sat around the conference table that had been delivered just an hour earlier.