Sandra Hill - [Jinx 03]

by Wild Jinx

  Etienne stood on the first step and stared up at him. “Who are you?”

  “John LeDeux,” he said. “And you?”

  “Etienne Arseneaux.”

  Shit! That was one thing that was going to change, and soon. His son would carry his surname, guaranteed. He was still sitting on the top step, legs spread, hands clasped together between his knees.

  Etienne sat down next to him, spread his legs, and clasped his little hands together, mimicking his posture.

  John smiled and felt his heart expand like that Grinch at the end of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Speaking of which . . . rather, thinking of which . . . he wondered if Etienne liked Dr. Seuss, or was that too young for him?

  “I know who you are.” Etienne was craning his neck to look up at him.

  “You do?” John’s thundering heart jumped up another notch. He glanced over to Celine, who could hear everything they were saying. She had a hand over her heart, wondering, like him, who had told the boy.

  “Yep. Yer a cop.”

  He let out a whooshy exhale, just realizing he’d been holding his breath. “And how do you know that, tiger?”

  “My grampa tol’ me there would be a cop here t’day. I kin spell cop. C-O-P.”

  “Wow! You must be really smart.”

  “I’m gonna be a cop someday.”

  “Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”

  “My daddy’s a cop.”

  His eyes darted to Celine.

  She shrugged.

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. And he’s brave and big and likes ta go fishin’.”

  “Your mom tell you that, too?”

  “Nope. I jist know. He’s a pirate, too. He’s gonna take me on his ship someday.”

  “A pirate and a cop, huh?”

  “Mommy’s friend David took us on a boat one time, but it weren’t a pirate ship. Jist a motor boat. But David’s cool. He bought me sparklers las’ Fourth of July.”

  John reminded himself to ask Celine about this David guy later. There might not be a fiancé, but Celine had left out the skinny on a boyfriend. Big surprise! Not the first time she’d neglected to tell him something. He put that concern aside for now and asked hesitantly, “You ever met your dad?”

  He shook his head, glancing sheepishly at his mother. “Mom doesn’t like me ta ask ’bout him,” he whispered as if it was their secret.

  His jaw tightened before he gritted out, “Did she tell you that?”

  “Nope. I jist know. She gets tears when I ask. Do you have a dog?”

  “No, but I’m thinkin’ ’bout gettin’ one.”

  “Big or little?”

  He pondered what would be the correct answer. “Big. Definitely big.”

  “Ya hafta clean up the poop if ya get a dog. Betcha a big dog makes big poop.”

  He reached over and ruffled the kid’s hair. “That’s some haircut you’ve got there, Etienne.”

  “I cut it myself.”

  “No kiddin’.”

  Etienne leaned over and whispered, “Don’t tell Mom.”

  “I won’t. She’ll never know.”

  Tante Lulu came to the screen door and said, “I’m makin’ a little lunch. It won’t be ready fer a half hour or so.”

  “I’ve gotta get outta here,” Remy added, coming out onto the porch. “I’m picking up Ronnie and Jake at the airport as soon as I get back, then bringing them here.”

  He stood, and Remy came up, pulling him into a bear hug. “Take things slow, Tee-John,” he husked into John’s ear. “It’ll all work out.”

  Luc came up to him next. “You want me to stay?”

  He thought about it and said, “No, but do some preliminary work for me. Find out what my rights are . . . that kind of thing.”

  Luc nodded. He, too, gave him a hug and promised that this whole mess would iron itself out.

  John didn’t see how.

  They all waved Remy and Luc off.

  By now Etienne had climbed a fig tree and was shaking the fruit out of one limb.

  “Would you like to go fishin’ for a while?” he asked, looking up.

  “Yeees! Catch me.”

  Before John could even register that the boy was taking a flying leap, he held him in his arms. For a second, John allowed himself the luxury of holding his son tightly, breathing in the skin of his neck with its little boy scent.

  Almost instantly, he was squirming to be let down. “Can Mom go fishin’ with us?”

  John’s eyes connected with Celine’s. He wanted to say no, couldn’t in the circumstances. “Sure.”

  Thus it was that John found himself fishing with his son a short time later . . . a son he hadn’t even known existed more than a day ago. And they had fun, even Celine, who laughed when she reeled in a fish the size of a minnow. Etienne was ecstatic when he caught an eel, especially when he kept waving it in his cringing mother’s face. A little devil, for sure. Etienne had been disappointed to know he couldn’t take the eel home for a pet, to go with his worm collection.

  James Arseneaux even came down to fish with them for a while, casting black looks John’s way every once in a while. John, black-looking him right back, would have liked to tell the old man what he could do with his attitude, but Arseneaux probably reacted out of fear . . . that he was going to take the boy away from them. As well he might. After a while, James went back to the cabin, where he could be seen rocking on the porch, watching them like an eagle, drinking a glass of Tante Lulu’s sweet tea.

  “Thank you,” Celine mouthed silently at one point.

  “For what?”

  “Making this easier than it could have been.”

  “I’m not done with you yet.”

  “You ever met a pirate?” Etienne asked him. He had a habit of blurting stuff out of the blue.

  “Not lately . . . although we are working on a pirate project here. The pirate Lafitte.”

  Etienne’s eyes and mouth both went wide. He couldn’t have impressed the boy more, unless he’d announced he was Johnny Depp. “Kin I help?”

  “Maybe later . . . or . . . ,” He looked at Celine, “maybe you could come back tomorrow or the next day and stay for a while.”

  “Ya mean overnight?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Yippee!”

  Celine glowered at him.

  John probably should have asked her first before mentioning it to Etienne. Big deal! He had a lot to learn about being a father, but that was her fault.

  “Who was The Feet?” Etienne wanted to know when he calmed down a bit.

  At first, John didn’t understand, but then he smiled. “You mean Lafitte. Well, he was a hero and a scoundrel. He helped the Americans during the War of 1812. But he also stole from people, although it’s been said that he only robbed the rich, and he gave lots to the poor. Besides that, he was a very handsome man, and the ladies loved him.”

  “Like Johnny Depp?”

  “Just like.”

  The kid was adorable. Smart and funny and cute as hell.

  “I was a pirate fer Halloween.”

  “Really? I was a pirate one year, too, when I was just about your size. Bet your costume was better than mine, though.”

  “It was cool, but I only had a fake sword. Mom wouldn’t let me have a real one.” He slanted his eyes at John, as if he could cajole him into buying him one.

  “Not a chance,” John said.

  Etienne’s little shoulders slumped.

  “Come eat,” Tante Lulu yelled from inside the screen door.

  Her yelling caused James to jerk up with surprise and spill some of his drink. He must have dozed off.

  The three of them were walking up the incline toward the cabin when Etienne put his hand in John’s and said, “I wish you was my daddy.”

  Chapter 17

  A chip off the ol’ block, for sure . . .

  Tante Lulu sat quietly, listening to the chatter around the table. James was also quiet, but that was probably because she�
�d given him a piece of her mind about keeping Etienne from his daddy and judging all the LeDeuxs by that bastard Valcour.

  Etienne did most of the talking, happy as a pig in a mud puddle. He was a carbon copy of his daddy, just the way Tee-John had been at that age, except for those times Valcour had gone on a rampage. Tee-John wouldn’t describe himself this way, but he was a survivor. All of them were . . . Luc, Remy, and René. Not so much Charmaine, since she was raised by her mother, though living with a stripper hadn’t been much of a life, either.

  “Why do ya call him Tee-John?” Etienne asked her.

  “’Cause he was such a little mite, like you,” she answered. “That means Little-John in Cajun French.”

  Etienne craned his neck to look up at Tee-John, who sat on his right. “Ya ain’t little no more.”

  “Nope.” Tee-John looked pole-axed at all he’d been hit with today, but he also seemed pleased to have a son. Tante Lulu had expected no less.

  “Do ya pee standin’ up?” Etienne asked Tee-John all of a sudden.

  Everyone about choked on their tongues, but Tee-John, bless his heart, answered straight-faced, “Mostly. How ’bout you?”

  “Me, too.”

  The things chillen came out with sometimes.

  “I want a dog.”

  “You already told me that,” Tee-John said with a smile.

  Etienne gave him that slant-eyed look again, and his mother scolded, “You’ll get a dog when I’m ready. Stop asking people for a dog.” She gave Tee-John a look that warned, Don’t you dare buy him a dog.

  Tee-John gave her a look right back that said, I will if I want to.

  “I dint ask,” Etienne argued with his mother.

  “You implied.”

  “Did not.” He looked indignant, or as indignant as a five-year-old could. “What’s implied mean anyways?”

  They all laughed.

  “Ya cain’t get a dog ’til ya learn ta treat ’em right,” James added, his rheumy eyes twinkling.

  “Graaampa, I tol’ ya, Wiener is one ugly cat. I wuz jist doin’ him a favor, paintin’ him purple.” He looked to Tante Lulu for sympathy. “Dontcha think purple is a good color fer an ugly cat?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Wiener is another name fer a too-too,” he elaborated.

  Tante Lulu’s lips twitched with humor. “I know.”

  “I would never name my dog after a too-too.”

  “I would hope not, chile.”

  Tee-John made a low choking sound, trying to stifle his laughter.

  “When’s yer birthday, honey?” Tante Lulu asked.

  “November 11. Wanna come ta my party?”

  “Are ya havin’ a party, sweetie?”

  “Prob’ly.” He eyed his mother as if daring her to disagree. “Betcha I get a dog fer my birthday.”

  They all groaned at his persistence.

  You could say he was kinda horsey . . .

  Things had gone better than Celine had expected.

  Oh, it was still a catastrophe, having John find out about Etienne, especially in this manner. But even her grandfather had told her that maybe John wasn’t too bad, even if he was Valcour LeDeux’s “stinkin’ whelp.” Now, if only the threat of a lawsuit weren’t hanging over her.

  Remy was going to bring Etienne back day after tomorrow for an overnight stay. John had promised to let him help on the Pirate Project. Celine had voiced concern that Etienne would get in the way, but Ronnie assured her it would be okay, as long as Celine or John kept an eye on him. After all, her own little girl had been on projects with her and Jake many times. They were a family-oriented bunch.

  Of course John still wasn’t talking to her, unless he had to.

  The project was going extremely well, though. Ronnie and Jake had brought back sturdy two-gallon plastic boxes to hold the gold coins . . . seven of them filled so far with antique gold coins, mostly Spanish doubloons, probably made at the end of the seventeenth century. The value had to exceed a million dollars, but their historical provenance might double that amount.

  To everyone’s surprise, Angel had been involved in construction at one time, and his talents were put to use, sketching the arena, and documenting what was found where, in what position. His drafting skills gave the drawings a precision none of them would have been able to accomplish, even with computers.

  “I heard your little boy was here today,” Grace said, taking a brief rest from the photography work she’d taken over.

  Celine saved the data she’d been inputting into the laptop, then turned to Grace.

  “Yes, and he’s John’s son, too,” she admitted, knowing they all probably knew by now anyway.

  “So I heard. How’s John taking it?”

  “As far as Etienne is concerned, great. As far as I’m concerned, not so well.”

  They both glanced over at John, who had been digging ever since they came back to the site this afternoon, probably to work off his anger. It wasn’t working. He pointedly ignored Celine, but gave Grace a little wave.

  They all looked like mud babies. What a mess! Except for John, who managed to appear handsome in mud.

  “I’ll tell you something that I told John a little while ago,” Grace said, drawing Celine out of her reverie. “When I was fifteen, before I entered the convent, I had an abortion. No, no, don’t say anything. I forgave myself a long time ago. But what John needs to know is that lots of women today, in your situation, would have had an abortion. But you didn’t. And it had to be hard.”

  More than you could imagine. Tears welled in Celine’s eyes. “What did he say to that?”

  Grace laughed. “What you’d expect. Four letters, and it didn’t spell ‘good.’ Honey, it’s the failure to tell him that has him so upset, not Etienne himself. He’ll get over it.”

  “Ya think?”

  Grace laughed again. “Eventually.”

  It was Ronnie who commiserated with her then. Squeezing her shoulder, she sat down beside her on a folding camp chair. “Been able to get anything done with all you’ve been hit with today?”

  “Actually, work helps to get my mind off . . . things.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Even though it’s not accepted procedure, I’ve decided to pass my articles by you before publication. For accuracy and respect for privacy issues. I want you to be able to trust me.” Since trust seemed to be lacking from another quarter.

  “I’ll tell the gang. I know they’ve felt uncomfortable about what you might disclose about their private lives.”

  “Especially John.”

  “Especially John,” Ronnie agreed. “Keep this in mind, John is a good guy. He’ll do the right thing.”

  That’s what scared Celine. “What is the right thing?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “I just meant that he’s not going to do anything that would hurt you or your son.”

  “Maybe not Etienne, but . . . ”

  “Take it from someone who’s been married and divorced to the same man four times. This is only a speed bump in your love life.”

  “Oh, we aren’t in love, or anything even close. In fact, look closely, and you’ll see pure hundred proof hatred shooting out of John’s eyes right now.”

  “You know what they say about that fine line between love and hate.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like Tante Lulu.”

  Ronnie laughed. “Bet she’s planning the wedding already.”

  “She would like to, but I told her, and John told her, that it isn’t going to happen.”

  “That’s not going to stop her.”

  Celine groaned.

  Jake, Angel, Adam, and even Caleb came up to offer their opinions and advice to her, too. All of it pretty much the same thing. Hold on, things would work out.

  The question was: What did things “working out” mean?

  Finally, John strode up to her and demanded, “So, is everyone tellin’ you that you’re Mother Teresa and I’m a horse’s ass?”

>   She blinked with surprise. “Whaaat?”

  “You heard me. I’ve seen everyone comin’ up to you, all sweet-like, pattin’ your shoulder, givin’ you hugs, then turnin’ to glare at me.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re the one who’s glaring.”

  He was standing, hands on hips, while she sat . . . a domineering position. “Meet me downstream from the cabin after dinner. We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You can’t be that dumb.” With those insulting words, he turned away from her and was heading back to dig some more.

  “By the way, John,” she called to his back. “You are a horse’s ass.”

  He wasn’t ready to make nice . . .

  John wished he’d been able to go off by himself after his son left this afternoon, but work had called, especially when Ronnie and Jake arrived.

  As a result, he’d felt as if he were walking a gauntlet of questions, congratulations, sympathy, advice, and all around intrusiveness from the project members. And he hadn’t had a chance to vent his spleen with Celine yet . . . not fully.

  If he had his druthers . . . a Tante Lulu word, for sure . . . he would be off drinking himself into a knee-walking stupor. Unfortunately, there was no strong booze here. And he’d never been that much into drinking his pain away.

  Famosa had shocked the hell out of him by confiding, “I had a kid once.”

  “What?” he’d practically squawked. “What do you mean . . . had?”

  “I got this girl pregnant when I was in college . . . like you. But unlike you, Molly told me right away.”

  “Oh, please, don’t start bein’ nice to me, Famosa. I don’t think I could take it.”

  Ignoring him, although he’d probably have liked to flick him the bird, Famosa had continued, “Know what I did?”

  “I don’t want to know. Go away.”

  “I slapped five hundred dollars in her hand and said it wasn’t my problem.”

  “Is this supposed to have some relevance to me?”

  “Shut up, redneck, and listen for once. I assumed she had gotten rid of the kid. Hell, I probably just didn’t want to know. A few years ago, I ran into Molly . . . a heart surgeon now at Johns Hopkins. Turns out she had the baby . . . a girl . . . with spina bifida.”