He slides a little closer to me and refills my wine glass. “Are you willing to share with me who this special person is?”
“Absolutely.” Not missing a beat, I reply, “Odell the janitor.”
Cal chuckles. “Odell with the one eye and hunchback? The same Odell with the stringy, greasy hair, and six teeth?”
“That’s the one. He’s so kind to me.” I playfully flutter my lashes.
Cal roars with laughter. “I hope you two will be very happy together.”
“I’ll make sure you get an invitation to the wedding.”
“I look forward to it. I’m sure your children will be handsome little boogers.”
“You know it,” I tease.
“I want to kiss you so badly,” flies from his mouth and time completely stops for me. Yes or no? Yes or no? Yes or no? Yes! I want this. I need this. I greedily reach for him and pull him close, yet he practices much more restraint than I do. He stops me, softly stroking my hair while peering deeply into my eyes. His Adam’s apple nervously bobs up and down as his thumb gently grazes my lips. “I want to remember every second of this,” he says softly. “Give me some time to take it all in.”
I’m done. No more pretending that I’m happy being a loner. No more pretending that I don’t crave companionship. He’s won me over, and even if things don’t work out between us in the long run, I know with all my heart that I want to give this a try.
He moves his face so that his nose is near my neck, and he breathes in deeply the scent of my shampoo and perfume. His cheek tenderly moves across mine until we finally connect. With a kiss more precious than anything I’ve ever experienced, his lips meld with mine.
He smiles as he pulls away. “You have no idea how many times I fought the urge to do that.”
“Well, that’s a lot of pressure. I hope it was worth the wait,” I say, a little embarrassed.
“I can’t be sure. Best try it again.” I’m still laughing as he leans forward in his chair to offer me a more playful and relaxed kiss. By the time we pack up the picnic basket, my lips are puffy from all of the unexpected attention. I’m not about to complain because it feels good being held in someone’s arms. It’s an intimacy I didn’t necessarily crave before, but I now can’t seem to get enough.
Far as I know, Mrs. Milly is still running the roads when we leave, so we pack up the car and head back to my place. George, in his usual attire, is blowing leaves off the main walkway, while Agnes observes from the window above. He doesn’t acknowledge us when we walk past him, so either he doesn’t hear us over the sound of the blower, or he’s simply ignoring us. Either scenario is fine by me.
I ask Cal if he’d like to stay for a pizza, but he politely declines the offer because he’s swamped with tests to grade, and I, above anyone, understand that predicament. Once he leaves, I still order a pizza. While waiting for the delivery person, I change into some lounge clothes, pour a glass of red wine, and pop in a movie.
A knock at the door startles me, and realizing it’s the just the pizza guy, I grab a twenty from my purse before answering the door. Imagine my astonishment to find Billy Thibodeaux, scowl and all, on my doorstep. He’s holding a pizza box and a red rose. “Looks like someone left this for you,” he says with a growing sneer. The way he says it sends shivers down my spine. Figures he’d be the delivery guy.
“Hi, Billy. Listen, did I miss something? I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done to warrant the hostility…”
“Hostility? You think this is hostile? I’m bringing you a freaking pizza that YOU ordered.”
“I didn’t mean with the pizza, I mean in general. In class, it seems…”
“It seems that you are trying to make an issue where there is none. Do you have something against me? Is it because I don’t dress like the others? Is it because I don’t kiss your ass?”
“No, not at all. Billy, I just…”
“Just do your job. Teach, grade my shit, and leave me the hell alone. That’s it. Unless you’re hitting on me?”
“No! No, I have never and will never seek a romantic relationship with a student. In fact, the rose is nice, but it’s obvious it came from over there and the owners are very strict about…”
He gives me a disgusted look before snatching the twenty out of my hand. “Like I’d give you a rose. Enjoy your pizza.” He jogs down the stairs and is gone before I can get the door closed. After locking it as an extra precaution, I can’t seem to bring myself to eat the pizza. I toss it into the garbage and heat up a TV dinner instead. The rose joins the pizza box. Thinking twice about it, I put the rose INSIDE the pizza box. I wouldn’t put it past George to dig through the garbage, and I’m not keen on finding out the consequences behind plucking a rose from the sacred garden.
Pushing the food around with my fork, I’m more perplexed than ever as to what Billy’s problem with me could be, but I’m determined to not let it ruin my day. My thoughts drift to Cal, and my smile slowly returns. I can’t wait to be in his company again. Maybe he left the rose? No, it was a mature, fully bloomed rose from the garden, and he knows better. I chalk it up as yet another unsolved mystery before heading off to bed.
Chapter Five
Work is somewhat strange the next day. I’ve never really classified myself as distinguished, but I AM a department head. However, inside I feel like a love-sick kid instead of a professional adult. I smile whenever I think of Cal. Every time someone passes in front of my office or classroom door, I’m secretly hoping it’s him. I check my phone constantly to see if he’s messaged me. Oh, I’ve got it so bad!
As the day goes on, I get apprehensive because there hasn’t been one Cal sighting, nor a text, call, or message. I eat lunch alone in my office, and insecurities and self-doubt begin to surface. Refusing to kowtow to the negativity, I grab my things and make my way to my technical writing class. I sigh. Billy will be there, but damn it! He’s not going to intimidate me.
I walk in the room with my head held high, and with a no nonsense tone, I start barking out the requirements for the next assignment. Just as suspected, Billy’s there¸ but his face holds less malice. In fact, I believe he might be smiling. Ah, the pizza. There’s my confirmation that he did something grotesque to it. Jokes on you, buddy! I didn’t eat it. A broad grin crosses my face, too, and I’m back to answering questions and demonstrating proper formatting techniques.
Once class is over, back to my office I go, and I’m stunned when the door closes by itself behind me. Turning around as quickly as I can, Cal pulls me tightly into his arms. “I’ve been trying to get to you all day long,”
“So you’ve resorted to breaking and entering?”
“I didn’t break, I just entered.” He kisses me lightly on the lips. “How’s your day been?”
“Good, but it’s better now.”
“Because of me?” He correctly assumes.
“No, because today’s my early day, and I’m going home,” I tease.
“You love tormenting me, don’t you?”
“It is kind of fun.”
“I’ll show you fun,” he growls, hugging me tightly once again. “Question,” he says as I push him away to take a seat behind my desk.
“Okay.”
“The Bayouland Waterway Museum is having a gala to celebrate a new exhibit that will showcase the history and importance of the logging industry in this area. It’s one of those fancy things where everyone dresses up and eats finger foods while getting smashed. Interested in going with me?”
“You make is sound so spectacular, how can I possibly decline?” I say sarcastically.
“I can’t promise the event will be fun, but I’ll do my best to assure good company.”
“Sold. When is this supposed to take place?”
“Tomorrow night.”
I practically choke on the water I’m drinking. “Tomorrow?”
“Is that going to be a problem?” he questions.
“No, not at all. What time should I be ready?” I as
k in as calm a voice as possible even though I’m freaking out inside. I have to find a dress, shoes, someone to do my hair. I don’t know any hairdressers! Surely there has to be someone around here…
“It starts at seven, so six thirty?”
“I’ll be ready. I need to get going,” I say, opening my desk drawer to pull out my purse. I make quick work of packing up the things I need to bring home with me.
“What’s going on? Why the hurry?” Cal asks.
“I’m going dress shopping,” I say with a smile.
“You’ll probably need someone to keep you company.”
“Nope. I think I can handle this one solo. Besides, you have a Louisiana history class to get to. Don’t want to keep your students waiting,” I taunt, as I glide past him.
He snatches my wrist and pulls me close. “I can cancel. Students love when the professors cancel class.”
“They do, and no. Go to class.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Have fun dress shopping.” He kisses me lightly on the lips before opening the door. We walk down the hall together, and I leave him at his classroom with a wink and a quick wave before pushing through the double doors at the end of the hall. I pull my phone from my purse and search for local dress shops. There’s one on the main stretch, right next to Rich’s furniture store. Ugh. Oh well, at least I’ll be able to find it easily enough.
To my pleasant surprise, I pass two hair salons, but one is closer to the dress shop than the other, so that’s the one I wander into first. A lone young woman sits in the shop, twirling around in the salon chair, but she stops rotating as soon as I enter the door.
“Well hi there!” she excitedly exclaims before sulking back into the chair. “Wait, you’re not looking for the real estate agency, are you? Cause they moved about three months ago.”
“No,” I answer, shifting my plastic covered dress onto my other arm. “I’m new in town, and I have a gala to attend tomorrow…”
“I’ll do it!” she exclaims jumping from the chair.
“But…”
“Is that your dress? Lemme see so I can figure out what style will look best with it. I just love fixing people up for parties. Oh! It’s so gorgeous! Simple, yet elegant! I know exactly what to do! We have to start today. You need highlights to frame your face, and they’ll make your eyes pop more, too. I need to shape it up a little. Are you okay with layers?”
“But I…”
“Trust me, long layers will make a world of difference. You can hang the dress on the coat rack then have a seat in the chair.” Somewhat reluctantly, I hang the dress up, and once I turn to face her, she squeals. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so rude! Please don’t think less of me. I forgot to introduce myself! Tiffany Everett, and you are?”
“Cheyenne Douglas.”
She gasps. “Ooooo, Cheyenne! I love that name! You said you just moved here. Where did you move from?” she asks as she snaps a drape over my shoulders and gently runs her fingers through my hair. She studies it intently while waiting for an answer.
“Oklahoma.”
“Oh, I love cowboys. You have lots of cowboys in Oklahoma, don’t you?” Before I can answer, she’s moves to another topic. “So what made you move down this way? I’ve lived here all my life, so I really don’t know what it’s like to live elsewhere. I guess it’s exciting? Maybe scary? Are you married? Have kids? I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out, but it doesn’t stop me from dating around. Are you settled in yet? Where are you staying?”
She takes a breath long enough for me to answer. “The apartment behind the big blue Victorian house on…”
“Oh, my God! You couldn’t pay me enough money to stay in that place! You are so brave. Look, I get the chills just thinking about it!” She holds up her forearm so I can see the bumps that have arisen.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about…”
“The little girl’s ghost. Have you seen her? I’d absolutely die. Instant heart attack.”
I shake my head. “I’ve seen something, but I don’t think…”
“You know the story about George and Agnes, right?”
“No, and I’m not exactly sure I want…”
“Girl, let me tell you!” she exclaims as she starts smearing blue goo on portions of my hair then wraps them in little sheets of foil. “I know all of this because my momma’s cousin’s friend worked for the coroner’s office back in the day. You ever see Agnes? Probably not because she never leaves that house. Well, you know she’s all crippled up, right? Do you know how it happened? No, how could you know? You just said you hadn’t heard the story. So, George was supposed to be some sought after bachelor in town, and Agnes caught his eye. They fell in love and had a kid, a girl named Lucille. You know that back in the day they used to not have seatbelts in cars and kids just kinda sat wherever, right? Well, one night they’re coming home late, and George swerves to miss something in the road making them plow right into some trees! Agnes is all crushed up, George is banged up pretty badly, too, but five year old Lucille—poor baby doesn’t make it. I think she flew through the windshield or something like that. “
I gasp. “That’s terrible.”
“Wait, you haven’t heard the terrible part yet. Hold onto your underpants. So, George and Agnes were in the hospital for months, and the funeral home couldn’t wait that long to bury Lucille, so they had to do it without George and Agnes. Agnes never got over the loss of her daughter, much less never having the closure that comes from that final goodbye, you know? So she basically turns into this psycho zombie. She won’t sleep, she won’t eat, she won’t do anything but stare out the window to the courtyard below, calling for her Lucille.”
“I do notice her looking out of the window a lot.”
“Girl, I still ain’t got to the worst part! She made that man dig her up and bring her home, oh yes she did! He snuck into the graveyard with a shovel and reburied the child in the rose garden! Of course the police found out and arrested him, but it was a while before they figured out where the body was so they could put her back at the cemetery. They cemented the grave and did some other stuff so George could never do it again.”
A shiver runs through me when I think back to the oddities I’ve been shrugging off nothing. I don’t believe in ghosts. It’s just another one of those spooky stories that the people from the area obviously love to tell. Cal has a ghost story, Mrs. Milly has a ghost story, there were multiple ghost stories told while we were in New Orleans. It must be a Louisiana thing. That’s what I keep telling myself in an effort to remain calm.
“I find it odd that George and Agnes didn’t face more severe consequences for their actions,” I say with a tone meant to show my disbelief.
“Oh, they were pretty severe! George served time, and Agnes was sent to a psychiatric hospital out of town. She got those electroshock treatments and everything. George brought her home three years later, and no one’s seen her out and about since. She hides behind the curtain, desperately searching for her long lost daughter. George feeds her, dresses her, takes care of the house. He’s a nice man, really. Kinda talks gruff, but has a good heart, ya know? He only did what he thought would help his wife stop grieving so hard. Can’t say that I blame the man, but ewwww… Digging up a corpse is beyond my boundaries, I don’t care how much I love a person.”
I’m set to freak out at any moment, but thankfully, the rest of Tiffany’s conversation is geared towards much lighter topics. However, I still can’t get the image of the little girl out of my mind. It’s all a crazy coincidence, and I refuse to ponder it any longer. I turn my attention to tracking Tiffany’s progress with my transformation.
Satisfied with the end results of my cut and highlights, I agree to meet Tiffany the following day so she can style my hair for the event. I give her a generous tip then leave for my apartment, but not before running into Richie from the furniture store.
“Well, hello there,” he says, his eyes brimming with lust.
“Hi, Rich
ie. Bye Richie,” I say, trying to push past him. He reaches for me, but I’m able to move back before he can touch me. He holds up his hands in a surrender position. “I come on too strong sometimes, I get that. No problem. Look, my hands are up here. I just want to talk for a minute, if that’s okay.”
I sigh. “I suppose. What is it?” I shift the dress so it drapes over my arm instead of holding it over my shoulder.
“Dinner—you still opposed?”
“Richie, it’s not that I’m opposed; it’s that I’m sort of seeing someone…”
He sets his jaw. “I see. Well, maybe you can keep me in mind if things don’t work out for you and your guy?”
“I’ll do that,” I say, opening my car door. “Take care, Richie. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Oh, I will,” he says, tugging on his belt to adjust his pants before going into the store. I fight the urge to gag but give in to the urge to get the hell out of there, so I put the car into reverse and head away from town.
As I pull into the driveway, the story I’d been told runs through my head. I’ll never see the place in the same light again, especially knowing that a child had once been buried underneath my bedroom window. Again, I give myself a quick pep talk about not necessarily believing the story yet because there honestly was no proof it actually happened. It’s a story told to me by a hairdresser who heard it from some distant source. Common sense wins out even though there’s still a slight pang of fear in the pit of my stomach. I march up the stairs and settle in for the night. Thankfully, no one scratches at my window, no knocks come from the door, no little girls play in the courtyard, but Agnes does remain in that window, just like she does every other night. At least that’s where she is when I go to bed that night.
Chapter Six
I barely recognize myself while I gaze at my reflection. Since I usually prefer a natural look, Tiffany insisted on doing my makeup, in addition to my hair. I was hesitant, but now I’m grateful I let her do it. My dress is very simple, a black number with lace cap sleeves, a boat neck, and plunging V back. A black satin ribbon serves as a sash for the slim-fitting dress, while the floor-length skirt puffs slightly in the back around the knee area.
Broken Bayou Page 6
