Midnight Bayou

by Nora Roberts

  standards, we tend to settle for less than what makes us happy and productive, and can shortchange the people who matter to us.”

  “When someone matters to me—and I’m careful about who does—I want the best for them. They may settle for less. But I won’t.”

  When Patrick leaned over, peered closely at Colleen’s martini, she frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to see what’s in yours that isn’t in mine.”

  It made Lena laugh, had her shoulders relaxing. “He’s an awful lot like you, isn’t he? Got his mama’s eyes though. Sees right through you. Even when you don’t want him to. He loves you both like crazy, and that says something to me. So I’m going to say something to you.”

  She leaned a little closer. “I come from plain stock. Strong, but plain. My mother, she’s a dead loss, and more of an embarrassment to me than I care to speak of. But my grandfather was a fine and decent man. My grandmama’s as good as anybody, and better than most. I run this bar because I’m good at it—and I like it—and I don’t waste my time on things I don’t like.”

  She swept her hair behind her ear, kept her gaze level on Colleen’s. “I’m selfish and I’m stubborn, and I don’t see a damn thing wrong with that. I don’t care about his money, or yours, so let’s just set that aside. He’s the best man I ever met in my life, and I’m not good enough for him. I say that knowing I’m good enough for damn near anybody, but he’s different. Turns out under that affable exterior that man’s even more stubborn than I am, and I haven’t figured out what to do about that quite yet. When I do, he’ll be the first to know. I expect he’ll fill you in on that particular outcome.

  “Now.” Unconsciously, Lena toyed with the key she wore around her neck. “Would you like another drink?”

  “We’ll just nurse these for a while,” Colleen told her.

  “Excuse me a minute. I see I have an order to fill.” She moved down the bar to where her waitress waited with an empty tray.

  “Well?” Patrick asked. “I believe she set you neatly in your place.”

  “Yes.” Well satisfied, Colleen took another sip of her martini. “She’ll do.”

  “I’m not nervous.” Pale, jittery, Remy stood in the library while Declan attached the boutonniere of lily of the valley to his friend’s tuxedo lapel.

  “Maybe if you say that another dozen times, you’ll believe it. Hold still, damn, Remy.”

  “I’m holding still.”

  “Sure, except for the mild seizure you seem to be having, you’re steady as a rock.”

  “I want to marry Effie. Want to live my life with her. This is the day we’ve both been looking forward to for months.”

  “That’s right. Today,” Declan said in sober tones, “is the first day of the rest of your life.”

  “I feel a little sick.”

  “It’s too late to puke,” Declan said cheerfully. “You’re down to the final fifteen. Want me to call your dad back in?”

  “No. No, he’ll have his hands full with Mama. How many people did you say were out there?”

  “Couple hundred last I looked, and more coming.”

  “Jesus. Jesus. Why didn’t we elope? How’s a man supposed to stand up in front of hundreds of people and change his life forever?”

  “I think the tradition started so the groom couldn’t run away. They’d go after him like a lynch mob.”

  “That sure does settle me down, cher. How about you find me a couple fingers of bourbon?”

  Declan merely strolled over to a painted cabinet and took out a bottle. “I figured you’d need a hit.” He pulled out a tin of Altoids as well. “And these. Don’t want to be breathing whiskey on the bride. She might be the one who runs.”

  Declan started to pour, but when the door opened after a cursory knock and his mother marched in, he whipped bottle and glass behind his back.

  “Don’t you both look handsome! Declan, don’t give him more than one shot of that whiskey you’ve got behind you, and make sure he chases it with mouthwash.”

  “I got Altoids.”

  “Fine.” Smiling, she walked over and fussed with Remy’s tie. “You’re nervous because this is the most important day of your life. There’d be something wrong with you if you didn’t have some shakes. I promise, they’ll go away the minute you see Effie. She looks beautiful.”

  Colleen framed Remy’s face in her hands. “I’m very proud of you.”

  “How about me?” Declan demanded. “I thought of the Altoids.”

  “I’ll get to you later. You’re marrying the woman you love,” Colleen went on. “You’re surrounded by friends and family who love you both. It’s a beautiful day, and your brother—the one of your heart—has seen to it that you have a beautiful setting. Now you take a shot of that bourbon, then take a deep breath. Then get your butt out there and get married.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I purely love you, Miss Colleen.”

  “I know it. I love you, too, but I’m not going to kiss you and smear my lipstick. One drink, Declan. This boy goes out there tipsy, I’m holding you responsible.”

  Later, Declan would think his mother was right, as usual. When he stood beside Remy, and Effie, frothy in white, stepped out on the gallery, Declan felt the nerves drain out of his friend—his brother. He saw the wide, wide grin stretch over Remy’s face, heard his soft: “That’s my girl.”

  He found his own gaze traveling through the rows of people, meeting Lena’s. And you’re mine, he thought. This time around we’re going to make it work.

  So he stood in the spring garden, with the old white house rising over the green lawn, and watched his friends marry.

  When they kissed, when they turned to be announced as husband and wife, cheers rang out, so much more liberating and celebratory than the applause Declan was more accustomed to.

  He felt his own grin stretch, nearly as wide as Remy’s.

  The music started up almost immediately. Fiddles, washboards, accordions. When the photographer whittled down to just the bride and groom, Declan broke free and wove his way through the sea of people to Lena.

  She wore red. Bright, poppy red that left her back bare but for an intriguing web of thin straps. Just above her heart, she’d pinned the enamel watch and gold wings Lucian had once given Abigail.

  “I wondered if you’d ever wear it.”

  “It’s special,” she said, “so I save it for special. It was a beautiful wedding, Declan. You did a fine job getting this place ready for it. You’re a good friend.”

  “I have lots of good qualities, which makes you a very lucky woman. I’ve missed you the last couple days.”

  “We’ve both been busy.”

  “Stay tonight.” He caught her hand, seeing denial and excuses in her eyes. “Angelina, stay tonight.”

  “Maybe. You’ve got a lot of people you should be talking to.”

  “They’re all talking to each other. Where’s Miss Odette?”

  Lena scowled. “Your mother swept her off somewhere.”

  “You want me to find them, cut Miss Odette loose?”

  Pride stiffened her spine, her voice. “My grandmama can hold her own against your mama any day of the week.”

  “Oh yeah?” Amused, Declan narrowed his eyes in challenge. “If they get physical, my money’s on Colleen. She’s got a wicked left. Why don’t we get some champagne and go find them? See what round they’re in.”

  “If she hurts my grandmama’s feelings—”

  “She would never do that.” No longer amused, Declan gave her shoulders a little shake. “What do you take her for, Lena? If she went off with Miss Odette, it’s because she’d like to get to know her.”

  “I suppose that’s why she dragged your daddy into my place. So she could get to know me better.”

  “They were in your place?”

  “My bar, yeah.” Annoyed with herself for being annoyed, Lena reached out to take a flute from a waiter passing champagne. “She came in to check the place out,
and me with it. So, she got her an eyeful, and a damn good martini. And I set her straight.”

  He experienced jittery male panic at the image of the two most important females in his life squaring off. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I said what I had to say, that’s all. We understand each other fine now.”

  “Why don’t you bring me up to date so I can understand you fine, too?”

  “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “We’re going to find the time and the place.”

  Because she heard the temper in his voice, she shrugged. Then smiled and traced a finger down his cheek. “Now don’t get all riled up, cher. We got us a party here. You and me, we can fight anytime.”

  “Okay, we’ll schedule it in for a little later.” He caught her chin in his hand. “I can’t figure out who you’re selling short, Lena. Me, my family or yourself. Let me know when you’ve got the answer.”

  He bent, brushed his lips over hers. “See you later.”

  The reception moved into the ballroom, and still managed to spill onto the galleries, onto the lawn. For the first time in decades, the house filled with music and laughter. Racing children, crying babies, flirting couples and gossiping friends filled the great room, relaxed in the shade of white umbrellas at tables around the gardens or plopped down on the gallery.

  Declan liked to imagine the house absorbing all that positive energy, even into the dark corners of the rooms he’d kept locked.

  “Declan.” Effie laid a hand on his arm. “May I have this dance?”

  “Did somebody kill Remy?” He led her out on the floor. “I figure that’s the only way he’d let you more than a foot away from him.” He kissed her hand before taking her into his arms. “Can’t blame him. When you’ve got the most beautiful woman in the room, you keep her close.”

  “Oh, Declan.” She laid her cheek on his. “If I wasn’t madly in love with my husband, I’d make such a play for you.”

  “If you ever get tired of him, let me know.”

  “I want to thank you for everything you did to give me this perfect day. I know my mama, my sister and I drove you a little crazy the last couple weeks.”

  “Has it only been a couple weeks?” He laughed. “It was worth every hour I hid in closets so none of you could find me.”

  “I’m so happy. I’m so happy, and I love you. I love everybody today,” she said with a laugh. “Everyone in the world, but today, next to Remy, I love you best of all so I want you to be happy.”

  “I am.”

  “Not enough.” She turned her lips to his ear. “Declan, there’s something in this house that’s just not finished. I didn’t think I believed in that sort of thing, but . . . I feel it. Whenever I’m here, I feel it. I feel it even today.”

  He could feel the tremor move through her, rubbed his hand over her back to soothe it away. “You shouldn’t think about it today. You shouldn’t worry today.”

  “I’m worried for you. Something . . . it isn’t finished. Part of it, somehow part of it’s my fault.”

  “Yours?” He eased her back now so he could see her face, then circled her toward one of the corners. “What do you mean?”

  “I wish I knew what I meant. I only know what I feel. Something I did, or didn’t do for you. It doesn’t make a bit of sense, but it’s such a strong feeling. The feeling that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. I guess I’m a little afraid something bad’s going to happen again if it’s not all made right. So, well, as silly as this sounds, I just want to tell you I’m sorry, so awfully sorry for letting you down however I did.”

  “It’s all right.” He touched his lips to her forehead. “You couldn’t know. Whatever it was, if it was, you couldn’t know. And sweetheart, this isn’t a day for looking back. It’s all about tomorrow now.”

  “You’re right. Just . . . just be careful,” she said as Remy walked up and gave Declan a mock punch.

  “That’s my wife you’re holding, cher. You go get your own girl.”

  “Good idea.”

  He hunted up Lena, found her in a clutch of people. The red of her dress was like a sleek tongue of flame over her dusky skin. He imagined his reaction to it, to her, transmitted clearly enough as he saw that knowing and essentially female look come into her eyes as he stepped toward her.

  He turned slightly and held out a hand to her grandmother. “Miss Odette, would you dance with me?”

  “Day hasn’t come when I’ll turn down a dance with a handsome man.”

  “You look wonderful,” he told her when they took the floor.

  “Weddings make me feel young. I had a nice talk with your mama.”

  “Did you?”

  “You’re wondering,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll tell you we got on just fine. And she seemed pleased when I told her I saw how you’d been raised up right the first time I met you. She paid me back the compliment by saying the same about my Lena. Then we chatted about things women often chat about at weddings, which would likely bore you—except to say we agreed what a handsome young man you are. And handsome young men should find more reasons to wear tuxedos.”

  “I could become a maître d’. But they get better tips when they have a snooty accent, and I’m not sure I could pull that part off.”

  “Then I’ll just have to wait until your own wedding to see you all slicked up again.”

  “Yeah.” He looked over her head, but Lena had moved on. “This one’s working out pretty well anyway. I was a little panicked that the storm last night would screw things up.”

  “Storm? Cher, we didn’t have a storm last night.”

  “Sure we did. A mean one. Don’t tell me you slept through it.”

  “I was up till midnight.” She watched his face now. “Finishing the hem on this dress. Then I was up again ’round four when Rufus decided he needed to go outside. I saw lights on over here then. Wondered what you were doing up at that hour. Night was clear as a bell, Declan.”

  “I . . . I must’ve dreamed about a storm. Pre-wedding stress.” But he hadn’t been up at four. Hadn’t been up at all, as far as he knew, after midnight—when he’d walked through the house to turn off all the lights before going to bed.

  Dreams, he thought. Wind and rain, the flash of lightning. The yellow flames of the fire in the grate. Pain, sweat, thirst. Blood.

  Women’s hands, women’s voices—Effie’s?—giving comfort, giving encouragement.

  He remembered it now, clearly, and stopped dead in the middle of the dance.

  He’d had a baby. He’d gone through childbirth.

  Good God.

  “Cher? Declan? You come on outside.” Gently, Odette guided him off the floor. “You need some air.”

  “Yeah. Southern ladies are big on swooning, right?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind.” He was mortified, he was awed, at what had happened to him inside his own dream. Inside, he supposed, his own memories.

  “Go on back in,” he told her. “I’m just going to take a walk, clear my head.”

  “What did you remember?”

  “A miracle,” he murmured. “Remind me to buy my mother a really great present. I don’t know how the hell you women get through it once. She did it four times. Amazing,” he mumbled, and headed down the steps. “Fucking amazing.”

  He walked all the way around the house, then slipped back in for a tall glass of icy water. He used it to wash down three extra-strength aspirin in hopes of cutting back on the vicious headache that had come on the moment he’d remembered the dream.

  He could hear the music spilling down the steps from the ballroom. He could feel the vibrations on the ceiling from where dozens of feet danced.

  He had to get back up, perform his duties as best man and host. All he wanted to do was fall facedown on the bed, close his eyes, and slide into oblivion.

  “Declan.” Lena came in through the gallery doors, then shut them behind her. “What’s the matter
?”

  “Nothing. Just a headache.”

  “You’ve been gone nearly an hour. People are asking about you.”

  “I’m coming up.” But he sat on the side of the bed. “In a minute.”

  She crossed to him. “Is it bad?”

  “I’ve had worse.”