Cam hesitated as if he wasn't sure how to answer my question—like he'd never even thought about that before. "To tell you the truth, Alex, I don't know. I know Cole helped him find the house, but other than that, he really hasn't said much about it. I know he's not interested in making friends, and he's certainly not into hearing anyone's opinion about his parents."
"I'm not trying to talk to him about his parents," I said. "I don't care about his parents. I didn't even know about it really."
"It's best if you don't try to talk to him at all. Just forget he lives out there," Cam said. "I told Shonda and Cole told Mom the same thing."
Forgetting Jacob Fox lived a mile from my house was easier said than done. I looked him up on the internet and read some of his story. I felt awful for him. He was twenty-three when his mom went missing, and twenty-four when his dad died.
The police investigated him for months only to find that he had nothing to do with his parents' crimes. The church still shunned and rejected him in spite of his innocence, saying he should forfeit his dad's insurance policy. Jacob had gone on the record as saying he didn't really care what the church thought he should do with the money. I cringed when I read that part. I had always been non-confrontational. I hated burning bridges of any sort, and reading about his bad blood with "the church" made me feel all funny inside.
After searching the internet, I wanted to go to his house more than ever. I wanted to try to fix everything just like Cam warned me not to do. I saw Cole and Cam several times that day, but I never mentioned Jacob again. I didn't mention him because I knew if I did, they'd warn me to stay away from him, and I had already made up my mind not to.
I was going by there to welcome him to the neighborhood, that's all there was to it. Sometimes you just can't listen to your cousin when he tells you not to do something. Jacob Fox needed love just like the rest of us, and it was my duty to welcome him to the neighborhood whether he wanted me to or not.
I left New Orleans at three that afternoon headed for home. I knew Cam and Cole were staying in the city for a little while after I left. I didn't want them to catch me, so I decided to drive by Jacob's place on my way home. It was impossible to see his house from the road, but I had been to the Breaux's several times, and I knew which driveway was his.
I took off my sunglasses as I entered his property. It was a heavily wooded lot, so it was shady. The driveway curved, and once I made my way around the corner, I saw that there was a metal gate preventing me from going any further. I was relatively sure the gate and the 'no trespassing' sign that adorned it were new additions to the property.
Believe it or not, I still wasn't deterred.
Lots of people had these sorts of gates to keep out unwanted guests. I didn't consider myself unwanted, however, so I assumed it wasn't meant for me. I got out of my car to see if the gate was unlocked, but it wasn't. I could see the clearing and house in the distance, and I debated whether or not I should walk over there. I told myself I should go home and mind my own business, but my heart was heavy for Jacob Fox. I felt like I wanted to do something to help him—make him smile again.
I stared at the house for several long seconds, telling myself what a bad idea it was before deciding to head over there on foot. I naturally smiled a lot and had a knack for winning people over. I honestly didn't think I'd have any trouble with Jacob. I approached his house, feeling confident that I'd just be able to explain who I was and tell him I lived just down the street if he needed anything.
I truly felt I'd be able to win him over instantly, which was why I was shocked when a black Doberman came running at me, barking like he was about to tear me limb from limb. I was so shocked that I stopped dead in my tracks for a few seconds as I watched the dog approaching from the distance.
In those seconds, I tried to calculate how long it would take me to get inside my car. I turned to run, knowing the dog would catch up to me before I could make it to safety. I wasn't normally scared of dogs, but I was scared of this one. It was obvious by the way he ran at me that he wasn't the type of dog you try to reason with.
Somewhere in the midst of sprinting back to my car I heard a deep voice yell, "Larry!" It was difficult to think past my pounding heart and the fact that I was gasping for air as I sprinted, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that yell meant the dog was being called off. I was about ten feet from the gate when I slowed enough to take a quick glance behind me. The dog had turned and headed back toward his master who was over near the house, walking toward me. He was far enough away that I wondered how in the world I heard him call the dog. I had slowed to a walk, but now I stopped all together and stared at him for several seconds, contemplating heading back in that direction since the dog was no longer a threat.
"Keep going," Jacob yelled, gesturing with a wave of his hand for me to go away. "The Breaux's don't live here anymore."
"I wasn't looking for the Breaux's," I yelled at the top of my lungs, cupping my hand to my mouth to encourage my voice to carry.
Jacob was walking toward me slowly with the dog now by his side. "There's a sign on the gate," he said, still having to yell to be heard. "It's private property."
"I know but… I was… I'm, uh, uh, Cole and Cam are my cousins, and I… uh," I never knew it was possible to stumble over your words while yelling, but I was doing it. "I live down the street," I finally got out.
Jacob continued to walk down the driveway toward me, so I took a step toward him, thinking we'd meet in the middle. He put a hand out in my direction as soon as he saw me move. "Where are you going?" he asked, speaking loudly since there was still a good amount of space between us.
"I was coming over there to talk to you," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he hadn't cracked a smile, even now that he could see I was a young, harmless, friendly girl.
"No you're not," he said, continuing toward me slowly. "You're gonna turn around and go back the way you came."
The closer he came, the more menacing he looked. He was more broad chested than he seemed in his pictures, and he moved toward me with a long, athletic stride. It was impossible to appreciate his all-American handsomeness because his face was set into an impassive scowl. He pointed toward me in a frustrated manner.
"Go on," he said. "I don't want any of what you're selling."
Despite the fact that he was a sizeable person and that he was approaching me with a somewhat aggressive demeanor, I just stood there and stared at him. He was only about thirty feet away when he gestured with a finger in the air.
"Turn around and go back the way you came," he repeated, more slowly this time so I could understand him.
He had brown hair, but I could see, even from a distance, that his eyes were light.
"Can you not understand what I'm saying?" he asked, looking at me like something must be wrong with me. "You should learn how to read signs and stay off of private property. You could have gotten yourself hurt."
"You mean by him?" I asked, gesturing to the dog, who was perfectly calm, walking by his master's side.
"Yes, by him," Jacob said. He stopped walking and stood there as if waiting for me to turn around and go to my car.
"I just came by to tell you I'm Cam and Cole's cousin," I said. I gestured to my left. "I live four doors down this way."
"You already said all that, and I don't really care." he said in the most matter of fact tone I had ever heard anyone use.
I was wrong to think I could win him over. He wanted me gone, and apparently, there was nothing I could do about that.
Chapter 3
I had my feelings so hurt about it that I did something I never do. I drove straight to Ty's so I could complain to Shonda. He had been rude to her, too, and I needed the satisfaction of knowing I wasn't the only one.
Shonda worked behind the bar, so she saw me right when I walked in. There were five barstools along the counter, and I sat on one of them.
"What are you doing?" she asked, knowing it wasn't one of my nor
mal times to show up.
She wiped the countertop in front of me even though it was perfectly clean. It was a habit she had so that she could get close and whisper things to me. She did it even if she didn't have anything important to whisper, like "We're gettin' those crawfish boudin balls you like back for Lent," or some other random piece of information like that. She liked to wipe the counter as she talked to me, and she did it again this time.
I really did debate whether or not I should say anything to her, but my feelings were so hurt from the rejection that the first thing out of my mouth was, "I just rode over to the Breaux's old place."
Her eyes were huge when her head popped up to look at me. "To Jacob's?" she whispered, looking around us as if I was about to tell her the juiciest piece of gossip that had ever been told. "Did you get to talk to him? Was he there?"
I nodded with a stunned wide-eyed expression that let her know I was traumatized by the encounter.
"I told you," she whispered, reaching out to push my shoulder from across the bar. "He's mean. He's mean, isn't he? Was he mean to you?"
I shook my head dazedly as I remembered the encounter. "He wasn't nice, I'll tell you that."
"I told you," she whispered, shaking her head about what a crying shame it was that he had such a bad attitude.
I started to tell her more about my experience, but I decided not to. It was bad enough that I felt the need to go over there and vent to her in the first place.
"He'd be good looking if he wasn't so mean," she said.
"He's got a lot going on," I said, feeling the urge to defend him again. "I shouldn't have gone over there unexpected."
"I can't believe he was mean to you," she said, shaking her head as she wiped the place next to mine. "That makes me hate him even more."
"You shouldn't hate him in the first place," I said. "And he wasn't mean… he was just adamant that he didn’t want anyone trespassing."
"Did you show up with an angry mob with pitchforks?" she asked.
I let out a giggle at the idea. "No," I said.
"You went over there by yourself and he ran you off?"
"He wasn't mean about it or anything," I said, suddenly feeling like I wanted to backpedal and get myself out of this conversation. "He probably couldn’t even really see me," I said. "He just yelled at me that there was a sign and I should use it. I shouldn't have gone around the gate."
"He has a gate?" she asked.
"It's just to block the driveway," I said. "All I had to do was walk right around it."
She busted out laughing at that. " You mean to tell me you walked around a gate and went onto his property?"
"Yeah," I said.
She laughed again. "Why in the world would you do something like that when I told you he was mean? You're lucky you didn't get attacked by dogs. Caleb said he thought Jacob had dogs."
"What's Caleb know?" I asked since the Caleb she was referring to was a teenage kid who had no ties to Cole or Jacob whatsoever.
Shonda shrugged. "You know how kids are," she said. "They've been over by his land on their four-wheelers, I'm sure."
"They need to leave him alone," I said. "He's just a guy who wants some peace and quiet."
"Then why'd you go out there?" she asked, finally putting the towel away. "Just to tell him I was his neighbor," I said. "You know, introduce myself in case he ever needed anything."
Even as I said it, I knew it was ridiculous for me to tell Shonda to leave him alone when all I wanted to do was go back over there. I knew his hostility had nothing to do with me, but I hated hostility in any way, shape, or form, and I didn't feel settled with the way he kicked me off of his property.
Shonda went to help some customers, and I sat there thinking about it. I racked my brain, trying to remember if anyone in my life had ever been so rude to me. I had come across some characters and some people who were less than agreeable, but I honestly couldn't recall a time when someone had been so unreasonable. I just couldn’t reason with him. I remember the look on his face when he was telling me to leave. His jaw was set, and he glared at me with an impassive stare. I had never experienced someone being so unfriendly.
I was embarrassed and humbled as I sat there, dazedly watching people come and go at Ty's. I recognized most everyone, and I smiled and greeted several people as I sat there, but my thoughts kept going back to the encounter with Jacob. I felt like I could see the underlying goodness, softness, in his eyes, and I couldn’t get my mind off of reaching that part of him.
"It's none of my business," I said out loud since I was frustrated with myself for thinking about it so much.
"What'd you say, honey?" Shonda asked with a big swipe of the towel across the counter.
"Nothing," I said. "I was just talking to myself."
"He bought some boudin when he was here," she said.
"Who?"
"Jacob," she said, as if it was obvious who "he" was.
Part of me regretted it even bringing it up to Shonda because now she thought he meant more to me than he really did. Now she was giving me random bits of information about him as if I really cared.
Okay, so maybe I did care a little. Maybe I was glad she told me what he ordered. Maybe boudin was powerful enough to help us call a truce. Mama always said the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Not that I was trying to access Jacob's heart, necessarily, I just had a severe aversion to leaving things the way they were with him throwing me off of his property.
"I'll take some food for the road, Shonda," I said, after I sat there for a few more minutes.
"What'll it be?" she asked from over her shoulder.
"Two links of smoked boudin, two boudin balls and a pepperjack boudin ball." I paused, but then added, "And a pistolette, and a link of deer sausage."
"Goodness gracious, are you going to your cousin's or something?"
"I might," I said, not wanting to fully lie.
Shonda packed my order, and ten minutes later, I was passing my own driveway, headed toward the one place in the world where I was specifically unwelcome. I pulled up to his gate, and sat there for a minute, contemplating my next move. I could see his house in the distance, but there was no movement outside, aside from a few chickens on the far side of the clearing. I wanted to call his phone and warn him that I was there so he wouldn't sic his dog on me, but obviously, I had no way to get in touch with him other than to walk up his driveway just like I had done an hour before.
I always carried mace in my purse. I hated the thought of spraying that poor dog, but if it came down to it, I wanted to have the option to defend myself.
I unsnapped the top of the mace and put the nozzle into the open-and-ready position before stashing it in the front pocket of my jeans. I dug in the bag of food until I found the link of deer sausage, which I planned on feeding to the dog as a bribe. If my plan A of sausage didn't work, I had the bottle of mace ready to go for plan B.
I rolled up the paper bag full of food as I balanced the deer sausage in one hand. It was the end of summer, and I was already starting to sweat from the heat and most of all, my nerves. I closed the car door with my hip and did a quick inventory, making sure I had everything—food, keys, phone, mace… check.
I took a deep breath before heading around the gate once again. I had never been so nervous in my whole life. I wondered what would happen—how I would feel if this attempt didn't work. I found myself feeling frustrated at the thought, like maybe we would just have to kick this guy out of Louisiana if he was so unreasonable.
Just as I was having that thought, I heard rustling toward my left, and looked up to find Larry barreling toward me. He gave a loud bark, which caused me to jump back, clutching the paper bag full of food to my chest.
"The sausage," I whispered as a reminder to myself. I put the bag on the ground between my feet. With my left hand, I held out the link of deer sausage. I stretched my arm as far as it could go, hoping to stop the dog as far from me as possible. I held it like it was
a sword, praying the smell would hypnotize him. I grabbed the mace out of my pocket as my backup plan. I aimed it right at the approaching dog and kept my right index finger securely on the button, ready to shoot any second.
His black, muscular figure ran toward me, and I did my best to judge his intentions. He was such an intimidating looking dog that my hunch was I'd be stuck spraying him with mace in the very near future. I flinched and cringed and made all sorts of terrified expressions as I watched him bound toward me.
He gave one loud bark as he came near, which caused me to shrink back and yelp. In spite of my fear, I kept my left arm extended with the sausage in front of me like a weapon. To my utter amazement, my plan worked. The dog stopped in front of me, and put his nose to the tip of the sausage. He sniffed the sausage for a second before glancing up at me. I kept my finger on the mace button just in case.
"Larry, heel," I heard a voice say from behind the dog.
I had been so preoccupied with Larry that I hadn't even noticed his owner approaching. I looked up to find that Jacob was closer to me this time than he had been before—maybe only ten or fifteen feet were separating us this time. I stood up straight when I saw him, dropping the sausage to my side instead of holding it out in front of me.
"It's just deer sausage," I said, noticing him looking at me like I was crazy. I lifted up the bottle of mace. "I wasn't planning on spraying him or anything. I, I just didn't want him to bite me." I held up the sausage. "It's just deer sausage from Ty's. I figured one or the other would deter him."
"And what, may I ask, does it take to deter you?" he asked.
I let out a laugh when he said it, but he just stood there staring at me like it was an honest question. "Seriously?" I asked, unable to believe he could be this impossible a second time. Couldn’t he see that I was harmless?
"Does it seem like I'm joking?" he asked with a completely straight face.
I regarded him with an injured expression. "I brought food over here," I said.
Loved Bayou (Martin Family Book 1) Page 2
