Sandra Hill - [Jinx]

by Pearl Jinx

  Veronica smacked his arm. “The brochure does not say that.”

  “It hinted,” he amended, smiling at her.

  God, she loved the rogue. More and more every day. “Well, the teamwork has been phenomenal.” Veronica waved an arm to indicate the various tents filling the area, all manned by project members, as well as Abbie, Mark, Mark’s fiancée Lily, the Park Service rep Dr. Claire Cassidy, Tante Lulu, Caleb’s Amish sister Lizzie, and Del Finley, a geologist. She and Jake would be handling the Jinx, Inc., table to promote the company. You never knew where the next job would come from.

  Adam had brought in the inventor of the device that hopefully added luster to cave pearls. They were setting up a demonstration under one of the tents, where the cave pearls were exhibited nicely in a big silk-lined basket. Beside Adam, under the same tent, John was guarding an exhibit of Robber Lewis’s hidden treasure, along with historical data and pieces of the broken chest, not to mention the animated video on a laptop. As they passed by, she noticed that Adam and John were exchanging insults, as usual, this time about which one of them knew more about a woman’s G-spot. The inventor guy was gaping at their exchange.

  “Hey, I could tell you about tantric sex,” Jake called out to them.

  They all stared at Jake with interest, even Caleb.

  She dropped her arm from around Jake’s waist and jabbed him with an elbow. “Behave.”

  Rubbing his elbow, he pretended to be hurt. “Maybe not.”

  In another tent, Mark, Lily, and Del had laid out numerous diagrams and photographs of the cavern and the project as it had played out. Actual tours of the cavern would not be permitted today for liability reasons.

  Brenda, who’d returned with them from Mexico, was helping Lizzie over at the music tent. There had been some arguments about what to play while the visitors strolled the grounds. Jake had wanted Sting and Police songs, his favorite. John had wanted Cajun music. Lizzie had wanted country. Famosa pitched Cuban. In the end, soft Mozart played in the background coming from several strategically placed speakers. The rental company who’d supplied the tents, tables, and chairs had also provided a mini stage and dance floor for the party tonight. Mozart would not be played then, that was for sure.

  Tante Lulu was handling the refreshments, with Brenda’s help, now that the music situation had been ironed out. They’d had to curb her enthusiasm. If she’d had her way, they would have been providing a feast for their guests. In the end, they’d settled for cheese trays, small sandwiches, and wine or soda. The old lady had been promised she could go whole hog for the feast this evening, and she’d taken them literally. A hog was roasting in one of those rental pig thingees on the other side of the house.

  Veronica was glad to see Brenda keeping herself busy. She’d been unusually quiet and rather depressed on this trip. It might have something to do with a People magazine article on her ex-husband Lance Caslow, a Nascar driver, although Brenda claimed to have no feelings for the renowned womanizer anymore. In the magazine, he’d been shown kissing some young starlet who had a thing for race car drivers. Rumors abounded about an upcoming marriage. The only remark Brenda had made about the photo, which Jake had shown her with typical male cluelessness, was, “You could fit two of her in my jeans.” Brenda had weight issues.

  When Veronica had called Jake on his insensitivity in showing Brenda that picture, he’d said, “But she says she’s over the guy.”

  Her response had been, “Sometimes men have the brains of a gnat. Just because a woman says she doesn’t care doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care.”

  “Huh?” he’d responded.

  They came to the next tent, where Abbie was showing off some copies of the Franklin journal she’d found in her attic. She’d decided to give the public only a peek at some pages, wanting to save the rest for a book Mark and Lily might want to write.

  Sharing the tent with Abbie was Claire, who was talking to Del. She wore full Lenni Lenape Indian clothing, from moccasins to feather in the headband. Before her she displayed Abbie’s collection of Native American artifacts taken from the cavern in the past, along with her own regional collection. Arrowheads, tomahawks, fetishes, and various histories of the Lenape in this area over the years, plus two large foam boards on easels showing Indian trails and Indian villages in Pennsylvania during the 1700s and 1800s.

  Veronica was about to join Claire and Del when she noticed the expression on Caleb’s face. He was watching Claire with what could only be described as hunger. At one time, before she and Jake had reconciled, Caleb had hit on her. It had been only a halfhearted attempt, she realized now. If he’d looked at her like that, who knew what she might have done? Well, actually, she did know. She wouldn’t have succumbed, because of Jake. Still . . .

  Jake was talking to Abbie, leaving her and Caleb alone for a minute. “So, do you and Claire have a thing going on?”

  Instead of denying it, as she’d expected, he said, “Not anymore.”

  She arched her eyebrows at him.

  “She wants to have my baby.”

  She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Is that all?”

  “No. She wants to live on a farm.”

  “Okaaay. A farm and babies. That doesn’t sound unreasonable.”

  “To me it is.”

  “Not if you love her.”

  His head swiveled so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. “Who said anything about love?”

  “I don’t know, Caleb, but take it from someone who’s been married and divorced four times. Love is everything.”

  He glared at her and walked away.

  Yep, he was in love, all right.

  Chapter 17

  Caught ya! . . .

  Claire had either been busy all morning or she was avoiding him like the plague. Probably both.

  The guests had left after a successful press conference introducing the Pearl Project and the cavern to the public. Abbie and Tante Lulu were cooking up a storm in the kitchen for tonight. Lizzie and Brenda were sorting through some CDs, preparing for the entertainment.

  LeDeux, Famosa, and Del had gone in to State College to pick up the Lousiana family members at University Park Airport. Yes, so many were coming that three vehicles were required. Plus, Del had a truck, which was needed for another of Tante Lulu’s hope chests and a bushel of crawfish.

  Ronnie and Jake were on the other side of the house, tending the roast pig. Its succulent scent, along with delicious odors coming from the kitchen, made his stomach growl with hunger. He couldn’t recall having eaten today. Too much to do.

  The caterers were removing some tents, tables, and chairs and replacing them with others. Apparently there was going to be a bayou theme to tonight’s combination birthday party, reunion celebration, and military honors. At least, he thought that was fake moss they were hanging from some of the trees. Little American flags were tucked in the table centerpieces. And oh, good Lord, there were tiny twin Amish dolls, portraying him and Jonas, he assumed, in the centerpieces. Jonas would have a fit . . . if he even showed up. Amish, and Mennonites, for that matter, didn’t like images made of themselves, whether they be photographs or dolls.

  Finally, finally, finally, he saw that Claire was alone. On the other side of the stream, by the cavern, dismantling her wigwam.

  He walked over as quietly as he could, a skill learned as part of special-forces training. He didn’t want to give her another opportunity to run off.

  “Hey, Claire,” he said.

  She jumped, almost dropping the limbs she was bundling together. “Caleb,” she acknowledged. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Silent, he began to help her, picking up the thin striplings, then rolling up some of the skins, which she’d brought with her from her home.

  “You should be proud, Caleb. The project was a huge success. You and Ronnie were great during the press conference.”

  He nodded. “I’ve missed you.”

  She closed her eyes for a seco
nd. Apparently, this was not a subject she wanted to pursue.

  Well, screw that! “Have you missed me?” Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

  “You know I have.”

  “Then why can’t we be together?”

  “For how long?”

  His face heated up. “I’ll be here another two days. Gotta tie up some loose ends. And make some plans for Lizzie.”

  “Oh? And am I a loose end?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She shook her head as if he were clueless, which he was. “I care about you, Caleb, but two days of wild monkey sex and poof! doesn’t work for me.”

  Wild monkey sex? Oh, man, she had to mention that! “You care about me? You said you loved me.”

  She put both hands on her hips. “You say that as if you like the fact that I love you.”

  He shrugged. “I’m flattered.”

  “You are such a . . . man. Go away, Caleb. Good-bye. Nice to have known you and all that.” She turned her face away from him. He suspected she had tears in her eyes she didn’t want him to see.

  “I can’t.”

  She faced him then, and yep, her eyes were glassy with tears. “Can’t what?”

  “Go away.”

  “Ever?”

  Heated face again. “No. Just not yet.”

  She said a foul word under her breath, then tossed the roll of skins to the ground and stomped off toward the bridge.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, following after her.

  “Home? I need to take a nap before tonight’s party.”

  “A nap sounds good to me.”

  “Give it up, Caleb. Not gonna happen.”

  Midway across the bridge, he grabbed hold of her upper arm, pulling her to a halt. “I don’t want to give it up, Claire.” He gulped, then added, “I don’t want to give you up.”

  She tilted her head in question. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just so freakin’ mixed up.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight in his embrace so she couldn’t escape. Kissing the top of her hair, he whispered, “Don’t let me go.” Yet.

  She put her arms around his waist and kissed the side of his neck. “Oh, Caleb.” He had no idea what she would have said or done next, because two people were crossing the yard, coming toward them. Amish people. People he didn’t recognize. No, wait a minute, they weren’t Amish. They must be Mennonite. Maybe friends of Jonas.

  Actually, there came Jonas, truck tires squealing, into the parking lot with his three kids. And there came Lizzie, running from the other direction, as if alarmed about something.

  The man, who was older, in his fifties or sixties, wore typical black broadcloth pants with suspenders over a lavender shirt. His white hair and beard were neatly trimmed. Beside him was a short woman, also older, whose white hair was pulled off her face into a white prayer cap. She wore a calf-length dress with short sleeves of a pale blue material with pink flowers.

  “Caleb!” the man and woman called out to him, alternately.

  Slowly, he eased himself away from Claire and began to move toward the couple. It was like a slow-motion vignette. Them moving toward each other. The buzzing in his ears. Then slow recognition.

  It was his father and mother.

  “Dat? Mam? What does this mean?”

  “Me and Mam have decided to go Mennonite.”

  “What?” WHAT?

  “We decided ta come tell ya now ’cause we can’t come to yer party later. The music and dancing and whatnot, dontcha know?” His father put an arm over his mother’s shoulder and squeezed. They both smiled at him, expectantly.

  “Is this a joke?” No. Amish didn’t joke like that.

  “A wonderful-goot adventure fer old folks like us, ain’t so, Caleb?”

  Jonas ran up, out of breath, and stood beside him and Claire. “I tried to warn you, but your cell phone wouldn’t answer,” Jonas whispered to him.

  “What do you mean? You’ve been Amish all your lives. You can’t just change now. Can you?”

  “No one’s stoppin’ us. Oh, they’ll try, but me and Mam, we decided jist what we’re gonna say.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Shun my boys, and ya shun us.” His father’s lips went rigid, but there was a sort of pleading expression in his eyes. His mother’s, too.

  “Dat . . . Mam . . . you don’t have to do this.”

  “Jah, we do,” his mother said, reaching out for him and Jonas both with a sob.

  His father put an arm around them, too. A friggin’ group hug!

  At first there was just the scent of his mother’s Ivory soap and his father’s tobacco, and the sounds of gentle sobbing. Then, with a laugh, not even caring that his eyes were wet with tears, he pulled away and asked, “What brought this on?”

  “Well, yer Claire, of course,” Dat said. “When I was fly fishin’ over at her place, she set me straight, fer sure and fer certain, she did.”

  My Claire? Dat fly fishing at Claire’s? When was this? He turned to the woman who apparently had meddled in his life once again. Not that he could blame her when the results were this good.

  But Claire was gone.

  The old lady could still shock them . . .

  John leaned back against the kitchen sliding glass door, watching his family as they surrounded Tante Lulu, everyone talking at once. There were sixteen of them, including the kids who were running around the yard.

  Two of the older kids had already been warned not to go into that cavern and try to catch the big snake. They were LeDeux kids. They probably wouldn’t listen. John was betting on a visit to the emergency room before morning.

  A couple of the kids were being helpful, though. Setting the tables for Abbie and Lizzie, who was wearing her Amish attire today, which fascinated Luc’s three little girls. “Can you twirl?” he heard one of them ask.

  “Huh?” Lizzie bent down to hear what the little girl asked.

  And Jeannette, Luc’s youngest, spun around, making the hem of her skirt twirl.

  Lizzie laughed and tried, but her skirt had no twirl at all. The three little girls frowned with disappointment. Apparently twirling was a requisite for a cool girl’s clothing.

  “I’ve got some news for everybody.” This was Charmaine speaking from her perch on her husband Rusty’s lap. She was all dolled up in her usual big black Texas hair, a red skirt so short she about gave Caleb’s father a heart attack when they’d arrived, a tank top that spelled out in sequins, “Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow,” in line with her hair salons, and red high-heeled stiletto sandals. Bimbo to the max and proud of it, that was their Charmaine. Not that her husband minded. Even after three years of marriage, Rusty was crazy in love with his ditzy wife.

  “Is it ’bout those couples’ massage tables?” Tante Lulu asked, sipping at a glass of sweet tea.

  “Oh, you heard about that? Tee-John, you have a big mouth.”

  “Hey, who said it was me?”

  “I told her,” Luc admitted.

  “Anyhow, back to my news,” Charmaine said. “Me and Rusty are gonna have a baby.”

  The women—Sylvie, Rachel, and Val—all screamed with glee and rushed over to hug Charmaine, practically knocking her off Rusty’s lap. The men all offered congratulations to the proud, red-faced papa-to-be. Tante Lulu grinned smugly as if she already knew.

  It was good news. He knew for a fact that Charmaine and Rusty had been trying for more than a year. God bless the fun of trying, had been his opinion.

  “I brought your heart medicine,” Luc said then, which immediately quieted the whole patio. “And I had a long talk with Doc Pitrey.”

  Tante Lulu glared at Luc. “The doc ain’t ’lowed ta talk ’bout me. I know all ’bout the privacy laws.”

  “Well, apparently those laws haven’t made it down to Loo-zee-anna yet.” Luc was a lawyer. He ought to know. “Doc Pitrey said you don’t have a heart problem, that the pills are for indigestion.”

  “Heart, gas, wh
ass the difference?”

  “Big difference, auntie,” John chimed in. “You scared the bejesus out of me and Luc when ya said ya needed heart medicine. Could it be ya were tryin’ to trick us inta somethin’?”

  “Who? Me?” His aunt actually had the nerve to appear affronted at the suggestion. Then she jumped to another subject. “Did anyone check on my garden this week?”

  “I did.” Rachel, who was married to his half brother Remy, waved her hand. “You have an awful lot of ripe tomatoes. I put most of them in the fridge. And okra. Lordy, Lordy!” She rolled her eyes.

  “Thass good. I already put half of that basket ya brought into the gumbo fer t’night.” For emphasis, she walked over and gave the giant kettle a few stirs before replacing the lid. It smelled like home. Well, Tante Lulu’s home. His home with his notorious father smelled more like booze. Not that he was living at home these days.

  It would be good to go back to the bayou. He’d found over the years that he could stand only so much of the North before he missed the Southern dialect, Southern food, and yep, Southern belles. He would miss Jinx, though, once he started police work. A new phase of his life.

  Just then Ronnie and Jake came up, holding hands. They’d gone for a walk to work off the heavy lunch they’d had after the big to-do this morning. Following them were Peach and Famosa.

  “You wanted to talk to us about a business proposition?” Ronnie said to Tante Lulu.

  All eyes turned on their unpredictable aunt.

  This was a surprise. What was she up to now? As one, he and his half brothers, half sister, and the in-laws said, “Uh-oh!”

  “Shush!” Tante Lulu said to them. “Sit down, sit down. Have some tea.”

  When they were all settled, she said to Ronnie and Jake, “I wanta hire ya fer a treasure hunt down in Loo-zee-anna.”

  “Whaaat?” some of them, himself included, exclaimed. The others just dropped their jaws with surprise.

  Except for Caleb. “What kind of treasure hunt?”

  Was he taking his ditzy aunt seriously? Mon Dieu!

  “Jean Lafitte’s buried treasure.” Tante Lulu folded her arms over her chest and smiled as if she’d just announced she’d found the pirate’s treasure in her own back yard.