Sister of a Sinner

by Lynn Shurr

  “I think I could live this way forever,” she said.

  “Not me. I miss my Bundt cake.” Tom checked Junior’s phone for bars as he did every few miles. Possibly, he had more than a desire for baked goods.

  “I have patients whose surgery has been delayed,” Connor added.

  Junior stretched out his legs and put his hands behind his head to keep them off Xochi. “I think I’m going to have to buy a boat, one with a bigger galley.” Wideout slept four but in too close a proximity for him to act on his urges now that Xochi had accepted him as her lover, only the first part of his plans for their life together. Marriage. House. Children. A fine restaurant in Chapelle.

  “I’d like that,” Xo said as if she read his thoughts, all his thoughts, not simply his immediate needs. “But I suppose we must go home sometime.”

  Junior suspected she knew what awaited. Not only Alix lurked at the dock, outdistancing everyone in the crowd with her long legs to run into Tom’ arms, but every Billodeaux who could get there to hug and kiss and carry on with Cajun excitement over their safe return.

  The Rev engulfed Connor in his huge embrace while his mother attempted to wrap her arms around them both. “Hey, I didn’t know you were that worried about getting your medical kit back. I left some of the supplies at the local clinic since they were a little low.”

  “A charitable gesture, we’ll send more if they need it, a little thank offering for your safe return,” his father answered.

  “I’ll build them an entirely new clinic and go down there once a year to see to the needs of the people on the island,” his mother vowed.

  “Not too big a sacrifice there. It’s a lovely place when no one is trying to kill a childhood friend.” Junior heard and acknowledged that Connor had accepted that he’d lost Xochi as anything more.

  Mack had deemed to return from Dallas to be among them, but appeared to remain in competition with Junior when he strolled over and said, “Wish I’d been there to shoot a few of those kidnappers. Pow! Pow!” He gave his older sister a squeeze. “Next time, call me before you take off to become heroes.”

  “No time,” Junior said, thinking he’d killed a man out of necessity and how it hadn’t felt good at all in the end.

  Unfortunately, the press and the paparazzi had gotten wind of the situation. Knox Polk, Sr. saw they kept their distance from his weeping wife with Xochi in her embrace. Junior joined his father to help force a way open to a long line of waiting vehicles, losing Xo in the process to ride with her family in the big van that had once transported the Billodeaux children and himself to school. He rode in the double cab truck with his parents, his mom alternating between Spanish and English, sharing her fears for him and Xochi, beaming at the happy outcome. When they let her down at the kitchen door of Lorena Ranch, Junior stayed in the truck as his father went to park it.

  “Dad,” he said before they got out. “I zigzagged like you said. Still, I took a bullet in the back, but I saved Xochi from a man with an automatic weapon. He got away because I couldn’t stop to make a stand. I had to go into hiding with her.”

  “That’s okay. You lived to fight another day. I’m glad of that.”

  “The FBI confiscated the guns I took. I doubt you’ll get them back.”

  “I can always buy more guns. I have my only son back. That’s what counts.”

  “I killed a Mayan priest, a shot to the center of the chest to prevent Xochi’s murder. I don’t want to kill again unless I must. I haven’t got it in me to do what you did for so many years.”

  Knox studied his son with unreadable eyes before he spoke. “I pushed you toward the service, but you have your mother’s warm heart. I hope you never have to kill again. Still, I know if you must take a stand, you will. I’m proud of you, Junior, so very proud.”

  After that statement, because his dad was Knox Polk, Sr., the older man simply got out of truck and walked to the big house beside him.

  ****

  Junior sat at the kitchen table while his mother cut a huge piece of cake and tipped it onto a plate. She set it before him. “I make Tres Leches cake for you and Xochi, no one else. You are wounded and must build your strength, hijo.”

  “I had a doctor with me. Connor patched me up and changed my dressing every day on the way home. I’ll be fine.”

  “You stay here now. Let your mama take care of you.” Corazon helped herself to cake and sat down with a cup of coffee, hands wrapped around it as if warming herself. “Miss Nell, she wants Xochi to live at the ranch now.”

  “Ah, Ma, we both have to go back to New Orleans to straighten out a few things. Xo needs to sublet the apartment. She promised to help me pick out furniture for my condo before she starts her traiteur training.”

  His mama’s thick eyebrows raised, and her smile could have outshone the Mexican sun on a hot day in July. “Buying furniture together. That is good, next step to getting married where I come from.”

  “Maybe. I need to give her some space to pursue her goals, but yes, I think so.”

  His mother’s dark eyes suddenly streamed with tears as if her joy needed watering. She set down her coffee and leaned over her cake to embrace him again. “I am so happy, Junior.”

  No need to tell his dad the situation. His mama would fill his ears with her elation when they sat side by side in the cozy two room cottage where he’d grown up, a game of some sort on the TV, her hands busy letting out the seams and the hems of the clothes her son kept outgrowing. He and Xochi would find a house nearby and keep them in their lives.

  “Where is everyone else? Where’s Xo?”

  “Everybody, they pick up shrimp off the boats at Intracoastal City while we wait. We gonna have a big boil with the corn and the little red potatoes out of doors. Is good time for it since the campers went home this morning, and the new ones do not come until tomorrow afternoon when the maids finish the cleaning. Mr. Joe is in the pavilion getting the pots ready with all of them drinking beer, waiting for the food. Not so much work for me or Miss Nell. I make two big sheet cakes for dessert. My work, it is done. I eat with the family tonight.”

  “And Xochi?”

  “Up in her old room with her mama, Nurse Shammy, and Miss Rosemarie. They checking her body, brain, and soul, I think. Xochi, she is strong. She be all right.”

  Junior hoped so. He knew he’d have to sleep in his childhood bed this evening, no matter that it no longer fit him. Though he had the door codes, he wouldn’t be able to hear Xo’s screams if the dream woke her in the night. Nell would be the one to run to her and hold her tight until the terror passed. For a while, he’d have to live with that.

  ****

  Sitting on the bed of her childhood with its sunny yellow spread and rose-shaped cushions, Xochi faced her well-meaning interrogation squad. “I wasn’t raped, Nurse Shammy, so no need for an internal exam.”

  She wasn’t sure if the resident and somewhat elderly nurse who had taken care of the premature Billodeaux babies and seen to all the cuts and scratches a family of twelve children and the Camp Love Letter kids generated would be able to tell that she’d had sex recently and often, but regretfully, not since Cozumel. A former nun and married to Brinsley at an advanced age, what did she know about it? Still, Nurse Shammy had taken a bullet for the Billodeauxs just like Junior, and was hard to deny.

  “Let me check those toes at least.”

  “I had an orthopedic surgeon taking care of them.”

  “Exactly, a surgeon. What does Connor Bullock know about scraped toes?”

  Xochi gave up and stuck out her feet for examination. Satisfied with placing new bandages and antibiotic cream on them, Nurse Shammy gave way to Mama Nell.

  Nell had gathered her four oldest daughters around and given them the birds and bees talk at a young age, especially when Xochi developed early. This had been followed later by a more candid teen sex talk about self-respect, waiting for the right man, and taking precautions about pregnancy and STDs. The girls suspected Mama Nell had
n’t followed these rules early in her life and so knew whereof she spoke which gave her major creds.

  “Sometimes, the man who seems right won’t be. Don’t worry about that, just take care and don’t sleep around casually. Yes, sex feels good, but there is far more to it than that for women.” Sound advice from their mom, the psychologist, but all the girls left for college as virgins thanks to an overly protective father and fierce older brothers. After that, Nell did not inquire about the status of their purity and had no idea Xochi held onto hers for so long. Ironic that only Don Esteban guessed her closely held secret.

  “Do you want to talk about your ordeal, dear?” Nell sat beside Xochi on the bed and held her hand.

  “Not particularly after all the times I had to tell the tale to the FBI over and over again, but basically, Esteban Miro’s men kidnapped me to be a human sacrifice in the mistaken belief that an offering to the goddess Ix Chel would cure him of cancer. I saw immediately he stood at death’s door, but a man called Indio who claimed to be a Mayan priest convinced him otherwise. We believe that Indio wanted revenge against Dad for the death of his son many years ago when he went to rescue Tom. I was treated fairly well until the time of the sacrifice, then drugged and taken to a temple. Four of the best young men I know rescued me. All the others involved are dead except the man named Diaz.”

  “That must concern you.”

  “Sure, scary guy, maybe Esteban’s son, but he isn’t likely to come here with so many searching for him.”

  Nell patted her hand and let go. “Any time you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

  “Always.”

  Rosemarie Leleux, waiting at the gates of the ranch when the cortege of Billodeaux vehicles arrived leaking ice water out the backs from the sloshing coolers full of shrimp, studied Xochi’s face and especially her eyes. The traiteur claimed not to have her grandmother’s second sight, but she knew how to read people very well. Xo had seen her in action ferreting out what really bothered her clients before giving a cure.

  “A terrible event like this changes a person. You will need a new gris-gris bag to ward off the dreams. I’ll give it some thought and make one for you. In the meantime, let me seal this room from bad thoughts.”

  Rosemarie walked the four corners of the bedroom murmuring prayers and leaving small pinches of herbs in each corner. Nurse Shammy and Mama Nell might not believe in her efforts, but wouldn’t object considering that the traiteur had given Xochi rest from night terrors before and helped her cope with the auras. “There, that should do it. Stop by my place before you return to New Orleans, and I’ll have the new bag ready.”

  Xochi stood and beckoned the women to her in a group hug. “Thank all of you for taking such good care of me for most of my life. Go enjoy our welcome home party. I’ll be down as soon as I change into something less grubby than my boat clothes.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a cold beer,” Rosemarie admitted.

  “I think a stiff drink is in order. Brinsley makes a mean martini. Sometimes we have them for a nightcap,” Nurse Shammy said.

  What you didn’t know about the people who surrounded you. Finally, the dear women left her in peace. She changed into the gauzy azure skirt and a scoop-necked blouse embroidered with red and blue posies, still wearing the seashell flip-flops. As she brushed out her long curls, Xochi faced herself squarely in the mirror. No glancing aside.

  Losing her virginity had not taken away her gift of seeing auras. The pale green peridot glow of a healer still confronted her, but she had changed. Now it bore spikes of violet, Junior’s color, the color of love.

  She went downstairs and outside to run the gauntlet of family and friends. Mawmaw Nadine grasped her in an iron squeeze despite the woman’s age. “We prayed for you, my baby, we prayed day and night for your safe return.”

  “So did I. Must have worked.” Xochi searched for Junior and found him amid the men standing by the boiling pots. He stood out, big, brown, and sturdy. Now, to escape Mawmaw.

  “I see where your eyes are roving, Xochi Billodeaux. He’s a tee-tiny bit young, but a good Cat’lic boy. You got my blessing.” Within the family, Mawmaw’s opinion really counted for something. She could make a boyfriend she didn’t care for shrivel to dust and disappear with the wind using her sharp tongue and had applied her censure more than once. But, she knew Junior—and approved. Her grip loosened. “Now you go on and give him a nice big kiss for bringing you home safe with the help of Mother Mary.”

  Xochi did exactly that, declaring them a couple before the whole clan and quite a few friends. Her dad and Knox Polk shook hands, Joe with a big Cajun grin on his face and Knox with a more reserved smile, good as it could get. She and Junior might have a hard time escaping from Lorena Ranch tomorrow, but would make the effort to return to New Orleans and that condo with the great big bed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Xo and Junior rose early, but not early enough to evade a hearty breakfast prepared by Corazon, and coffee with Mama Nell and Daddy Joe. They laid out their plans to pack Xochi’s belongings and shop for furniture for Junior’s condo, promising to return in a day or so to the safety of the ranch. Junior decided to work out there before training camp started and allow Nurse Shammy to fuss over his wound, which didn’t bother him at all. Xo, however, meant to take up residence on the edge of the swamp with Nestor Leleux. She held up a hand to indicate no arguments could persuade her to change her mind.

  Leaving, they picked up a tail of a couple of sleepy paparazzi who should have known better. The Billodeaux family had issued a statement to the press giving most of the credit to the efforts of the FBI in saving their daughter with some help from her brother, Tom, and three good friends. Intervention occurred when Xochi’s life had been threatened. Three of the four kidnappers died in the struggle. Expressions of gratitude for all who prayed for Xochi’s safe return. End of story. No mention of human sacrifice. The press should have known they would get no more from the Billodeauxs, but were undoubtedly spreading cash like chum around Cozumel hoping to lure those whose information could be bought.

  A short stop at Rosemarie’s house did result in a confrontation with two members of the yellow press who blocked their way when they exited the cottage with the statue of the Virgin Mary in her bathtub shell.

  “Move.” Junior held out both arms as if he meant to throw them to the ground. They moved, and the newly minted couple managed to escape Chapelle for the big city.

  In Xochi’s apartment, they packed her clothes and boxed her personal items. Most of the contents would remain for the next occupant to use. As it turned out, that person was Annie Billodeaux. As Junior cleared the top shelf of Xo’s closet, she stuffed clothes and shoes into garbage bags once her suitcases filled.

  “Nice that Annie is coming to live here since the Ochsner Medical Center offered her that neonatal nurse practitioner position. She told me at the shrimp boil she needed a place to live. Saves me from subletting to a stranger.”

  Junior dumped a jumble of purses and hats onto the bed. “Yeah, that’s great, but I thought the twins would never cut the cord between them, close as they are.”

  With a cock of her head, Xochi considered his statement. “Close yes, but not the same. They look very much alike but aren’t identical. Annie’s aura is green like mine. Jude burns orange. She’s always been the dominant one, leading the way, telling Annie what to do. Now, I think they’ve come to a parting place. Jude keeps climbing the nursing ladder higher and higher. Annie has found her happiness in caring for the most vulnerable of infants. She likes the peace of the nursery at night, helping the parents learn to handle their fragile babies and love them. It is time Jude and Annie went separate ways.”

  “I’d bet Jude wasn’t happy.”

  “Nope, but keeping Jude happy shouldn’t be Annie’s purpose in life.”

  “I think I found mine in making you happy.” Junior stooped to kiss her neck. “The closet is cleaned out. Anything else we need to get?”

 
“No, I won’t need much at Nestor Leleux’s place, and those things are in my big suitcase. Most of this stuff I’ll leave at the ranch.”

  “Or how about my place? I have three empty bedrooms. Heck, I have an empty living room and kitchen, too.”

  “Once you finish unpacking all that cookware, the kitchen won’t be empty.” She referred to the mountain of boxes they’d found waiting at his place ordered online or from local restaurant supply businesses. Opening them had been like Christmas, or maybe a bridal shower described it better: heavy duty pots and pans, plates thick and white with a thin blue line of a border, substantial mugs, chunky glasses, and oversized stainless steel dinnerware with a nice beaded design on the handles.

  In his defense, Junior said, “A man needs a good blender that can make both smoothies and frozen margaritas.”

  “And a deluxe food processor, a convection oven, and a toaster with six adjustable slots. I’m surprised you didn’t get a bread machine.”

  “All those other items save time, but bread should be handmade.”

  “Right. Better you than me. But okay, let’s haul my belongings to one of your bedrooms and then go furniture shopping.”

  They managed the transfer from Junior’s SUV to the condo easily enough with the help of a platform dolly supplied by Arturo the doorman to lessen the trips to and fro and his intervention with the tabloid reporters begging to speak to the pair. “Is Miss Xochi moving in should anyone ask after her?” he inquired politely. Heaven only knew how many women he’d seen staying with Sinners players.

  “No, I’m just storing her stuff for a while—but I wish she would.” If very large men could look wistful, Junior managed to do so.

  “Someday,” Xochi promised. “Now push that cart to the elevator.”