by Liz Talley
He glanced back into his rearview mirror as they rounded the corner and the huge yellow ancestral pile appeared before them. This was the road that had brought him home, and behind him followed his Louisiana girl—the past he was prepared to pull into his future.
His heart swelled as he looked at the house that seemed older than even the trees. This weekend they would all be together. Della was coming tomorrow, Abram and Lou would be there Saturday morning and, of course, Nate’s family would take the walk over. They’d sit down as a family, eating, laughing and healing, trying to recapture what they’d once had many, many years ago. And Darby knew he wanted Renny with him.
She belonged with him.
He swung into the gravel parking area, halting beside a car that didn’t look like it could be Sid’s. The man had always been a Cadillac man.
“Sid drives a Civic?” Renny asked when he climbed out. She’d already emerged, carrying the bag she likely kept her camera in.
“Nah, he showed me his new Escalade when I saw him last week. Must be Della or Abram’s girlfriend.”
Renny shrugged. “Well, I don’t care who it is. I came for the pie.”
“Oh, sure you did. I know you want to maneuver me into that cloakroom under the stairs and demonstrate your talents with your—”
“Don’t go there, Dufrene,” Renny growled slamming the door. “We’re dating.”
“Whatever you say, baby.”
“Stop calling me baby.”
“Whatever you say, blackberry girl.”
Renny shot him a look that should have chastised as they climbed the steps of the wide veranda that stretched the length of the main house but didn’t. He could see the pleasure in her gaze, the softness surrounding her mouth. She loved the flirting.
Lucille met them at the door. “Well, I do declare! My sweet Renny girl!”
Renny smiled. “Hey, Lucille, you look good. Haven’t aged a bit.”
“Girl, you do lie, but I’ll pretend you don’t.” The woman who’d been the Beau Soleil housekeeper for too many years to count enveloped Renny in a hug. “Ooh, you just about gone to bone, girl. Let me get you something to eat. I done made Darby his favorite pie, but I got some chocolate-cherry cake if you want that. Picou’s in her sitting room having some tea. I’ll bring coffee and dessert to you. Sound good?”
“Whose car?” Darby asked.
Lucille peered around at him. “That’s something you got to learn for yourself. Oh, but first, Mr. Platt dropped off an envelope for you. Said it was papers you was expectin’.”
She handed him the envelope that had been sitting on the antique buffet in the hallway. “Now, you got company, so go on in.”
Her words created unease in his gut. Had Sid said something about the divorce? Or was there a whole new reason for Lucille to eyeball him?
He set the envelope back on the antique buffet and nudged Renny toward the back room. She placed her camera bag beside the envelope. “Come on.”
“Stop rushing me,” she said, lagging behind him.
Darby smiled back at her. “Lamb in the lion’s den.”
“Oh, please, your mother’s not a lamb,” she teased.
He entered the room with a grin...that quickly died.
“Well, finally. I texted you over an hour ago with no response,” his mother said as the woman opposite her rose with a brilliant smile on her face.
“Darby!” Shelby said, setting her teacup on the side table and hurrying to him. She threw herself into his arms—or rather against him—in a hug.
“Shelby?” He grabbed her elbows in an awkward hug right before her lips found his. The air sucked out of his lungs and he grappled for a grip on reality.
She dropped her arms and stepped back. “Surprise.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Well, after you canceled the interview at Daddy’s firm, I thought I better come down here. You didn’t sound like the Darby I knew. Plus, I wanted to meet your family. You’ve told me so much about them.”
A baseball bat to the head wouldn’t have surprised him more than Shelby standing in his mother’s sitting room. He blinked as the baseball bat to the head beamed up at him for another full second before lifting herself on her toes and giving him another kiss.
Renny’s shock slammed against his back.
Then he felt the crackle of her anger, monstrous and cold as a January wind.
Oh, shit.
“You have a friend with you,” Shelby said, stepping out of his arms and leaning so she could see Renny. “Hey. Didn’t mean to be rude.”
Renny didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, after what felt like hours, she said, “Hi, I’m Renny Latioles.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Shelby Mackey, Darby’s girlfriend.”
For one brief moment, he actually thought about running out of the room like a pusillanimous dog, tail between legs, but he wasn’t sure his feet could unstick themselves from the polished floor. Didn’t matter that he’d broken things off with Shelby and had no fault in what played out. It was sheer instinct. “Well, not technically my girlfriend.”
Something flickered in Shelby’s eyes, something that scared him a little. She’d sized up the situation and perceived Renny as a threat. “Well, what do you call me then? We’ve been dating for over two months.”
What part of “cutting her loose” didn’t Shelby understand? He glanced toward his mother who looked sort of bemused, and he knew she understood what was going down on her expensive antique carpet. He also understood there were certain expectations for behavior, and he wasn’t going to embarrass Shelby. Even if he knew Renny was mad as a wet cat. Surely, Renny could see he had nothing to do with the blonde standing in the heart of Beau Soleil. “Mom, any more coffee over there?”
His mother shook her head and acted as if she hosted afternoon tea with Darby’s girlfriends, past and present, every afternoon. “Sorry, but Lucille’s making a fresh pot and bringing out some dessert.”
Shelby stepped away from him and he could see the thoughts flitting through eyes the color of a Louisiana sky. “Am I interrupting something here?”
“Of course not,” Renny said, moving forward and extending her hand. “I’m just an old friend of the Dufrene family, a biologist overseeing one of the birds inhabiting Beau Soleil property. I’m here to get some photographic evidence to support my research. Absolutely nothing interrupted.”
“Oh,” Shelby said, looking about as comfortable as someone with her dress caught in her panty hose. “Just looked like...”
“Nothing.” Renny wiggled her fingers on the extended hand. Shelby finally took her hand and gave it a shake before latching her hands behind her.
“Oh, good. For a minute there I thought—” Her words trailed off and there seemed to be little doubt about what she thought.
Darby opened his mouth to clarify the situation.
But Renny beat him to it. “You thought there was something between me and Darby?”
He closed his mouth as Shelby darted a glance his way and nodded.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Renny said, moving toward the door. “And I should be leaving you to your company.”
“Must you go?” Picou asked, patting the couch next to her, making Darby wonder if she enjoyed the evident discomfort displayed before her. Only someone as perverse as his mother would enjoy tension thicker than fog on the bayou. “Lucille’s been looking forward to visiting with you since you and Darby first reconnected.”
“No, I really—”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Lucille said, bustling into the room, carrying a tray with a carafe of coffee and several plates holding pie and cake. “I got your pie right here, missy.”
“Lucille, I have to go.”
“Oh, you can,” the housekeeper said, nodding her head emphatically. Darby noticed that the black curly wig tilted a bit as she carefully set cream and sugar on the tray sitting atop the large ottoman between the couch and extra-large stuffed chair
s. “Just as soon as you eat your pie and drink your poison.”
Renny shot him an undecipherable look. “Sounds lovely.”
But her words sounded anything but pleased. Nothing like being trapped by the niceties of life—and Lucille’s ironclad rule that once she set out pie, it got eaten.
Renny sank down next to Picou as Lucille settled her girth in the chair next to the one in which Shelby sat. The housekeeper turned and looked at Darby expectantly.
“I’ll stand,” he said, turning to pour a finger of Kentucky bourbon sitting on a silver service on the built-in cabinet. Screw coffee.
“Gonna be hard eating this here pie standing,” Lucille said, holding out a plate. If her infamous pecan pie hadn’t been so damn delicious, he might have waved it off. But it was beyond good. And Lucille had gone to extra trouble for him.
So he crossed the room and took the plate and fork. The liquor burned in his stomach, giving him a droplet of courage. Not much. But enough to attempt conversation. “So when did you arrive and why didn’t you call?”
“No need to get a hotel room,” Picou said, scooping up a slice of cherry-chocolate cake, putting it on a plate and holding it out to Shelby, who scooted over in the big stuffed chair and patted the seat next to her, inviting him to sit. He shook his head.
Picou continued. “How long do you think you’ll stay, dear?”
“I have a room at a bed-and-breakfast in town.” Shelby gave Picou a plaintive smile before turning to Darby. “I just arrived today. I did call yesterday, but you must not have gotten the message.”
Or not even checked his voice mails, something he always did religiously, but his mind had been preoccupied with Renny, dating and sending out résumés to firms in Baton Rouge and Lafayette.
“So I said to myself, ‘You’re missing your man and you’ve always wanted to go to Louisiana, so do it.’ So here I am.” The smile Shelby gave him looked practiced. She knew he wasn’t happy about her being here, but she wasn’t going to let on. Shelby was more of a fighter than he’d given her credit for.
He glanced to where Picou sat observing the conversation like a hawk atop a line. Next to her, Renny sat stony and grave, trying for nonchalance and failing epically.
“I’ve heard so many stories about Bayou Bridge, and I’m dying to see your old stomping grounds. You told me if I ever came down you’d take me to eat crawfish, see some plantations and go fishing out on your pond. I’ve never been fishing before but I’m game for anything,” Shelby said, taking a bite of cake and nodding at Lucille. “This is wonderful.”
Darby wanted to sink through the floor. Guilt burned a hole in his stomach, and he looked around for the closest way to escape. He was certain he could break the nearby window if he threw his full weight into it.
“It’s full of bass,” Renny said, her voice very calm and intentional. “In fact, you can usually nab one on the first cast, but be careful—there are snakes out there.”
Her eyes found their target. Him. “Big, fat snakes in the grass.”
Something socked him in the chest. It wasn’t just Renny’s anger but what sat beneath the surface—the hurt. He wanted to hit his knees and crawl to her, to explain to her Shelby had made assumptions, that he wasn’t a snake...but he knew his pleas would fall to the wayside. She was mad.
“Really? Snakes? Sounds a bit much for me.” Shelby gave a dainty shiver. “I’ve never seen a snake in the wild—only behind glass at the Woodland Park zoo where I volunteered in high school. I once helped out with a boa constrictor named Tina.”
“Interesting,” Picou murmured, lifting what he was sure was an empty cup to her lips. “Boas eat their prey whole.”
For a moment the only sound in the room was the clink of the fork against the china.
“So, how did you two meet?” Renny said, accepting a piece of pie from Lucille.
Darby swallowed hard, and it had nothing to do with the pie turning to ash on his tongue.
His mother grabbed a piece of cake, took a huge bite and chewed, watching a real life soap opera play out. “Yes, do tell.”
Shelby’s cheeks pinked a little as she spread a cloth napkin in her lap. “We met at an event at the officer’s club. I taught at the base school—Algebra II and trigonometry—and his roommate Hal invited me to the event. Darby and I started talking and we just talked all night. After that, we started hanging out, having coffee, dinner, a couple of rides through the countryside on his motorcycle.”
“You have a motorcycle?” Renny asked, looking as if she choked on the pie.
“A Ducati,” Shelby said with a wry laugh. “I want to see him make that work in Seattle. It rains way too often to consider a motorcycle a reliable mode of transportation.”
Picou raised her eyebrows. “Darby always loved going fast. Anything dangerous and he’d sign up for it. Gave me all this silver hair.”
“Really? Doesn’t sound like the Darby I know. He’s always been so reliable and sensible. The navy must have made him more discerning.” With that statement, Shelby’s gaze slid to Renny.
Again, the room fell silent, so silent Darby could hear the ticks on the grandfather clock just outside the room in the hallway.
“I think we got a ghost out there in them woods,” Lucille said, pointing toward the back of the house.
“What?” Picou said, her gaze following the direction in which Lucille pointed.
“A ghost. I’ve been seeing something white fluttering out in the woods. Saw it once a week ago Tuesday, and then I saw it again yesterday morning. Early.”
“That’s silly,” Darby said, wondering if he should kiss the housekeeper now or later for changing the subject to something more benign than dating Shelby and how much he’d changed over the years.
“Maybe something blowing around? Plastic bags sometimes catch in the wind. They’ve scared me before.” Renny set the half-eaten pie on the tray and folded her napkin.
“There are spirits all in these woods,” his mother said, sipping her tea, a thoughtful wrinkle marring the smoothness of her forehead. “Lucille knows what I’m talking about.”
“I sure do,” Lucille said, nodding her head, “but this one don’t seem like no regular spirit. It’s got business, it does.”
“There are regular spirits?” Shelby looked a bit frightened, or put out. He didn’t know her well enough to make that judgment. Three weeks of the two months they’d been “dating” had been spent with her in Seattle and him in Spain.
“Of course,” Picou said as if she were discussing everyday subjects like gardening or doing the crossword puzzle. “But they don’t manifest themselves so obviously. I agree with Renny. You’re probably seeing things.”
“Mmm,” Lucille said, not looking the least convinced. “Strange goings-ons around here is all I’m saying. Keep having things go missing from the fridge, lots of knocking around at all hours of the morning, and specters out roaming.”
Shelby’s eyes were the size of a half-dollar and Darby could see her mind turning around the superstitious claims of the housekeeper. He looked at Renny. Her gaze bored into his, sparking with anger and maybe the desire to shoot him. “Uh, well, I’ll keep an eye out, Lucille. Maybe we’ll get to the bottom of these mysteries.”
“Or maybe she’s dreaming all this,” his mother said, waving a dismissive hand. “Who would like more coffee? Just picked up this chicory blend from a specialty shop in New Orleans a few weeks ago. Isn’t it good?”
“Why aren’t you drinking it?” Renny asked, standing and smoothing her pants against her thighs.
“I don’t drink coffee. Keeps me awake all night.”
“Then you should go look for that ghost,” Lucille said, wagging a finger. “’Cause I ain’t dreamed up nothing.”
“I’m going now,” Renny said, moving around the back of her chair. “Thanks for the pie and coffee.”
Lucille looked down at the plate. “You didn’t finish it.”
“Trying to watch my figure.”
>
“Leave that to the boys, my dear,” Picou said.
Renny tried out a smile but didn’t quite succeed.
Shelby set her cup down. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Renna. A friend of Darby’s is always a friend of mine. Hope I get to see you again before we leave.”
“We?” Picou repeated, cocking her head.
Shelby’s face pinked again as she stood. “Just slipped out.”
Everyone seemed to process that info. Darby felt something hot and hard sink in his belly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Past and future on opposite sides with him straddling the center. Wasn’t a good place to be.
Renny smiled and walked toward Shelby, putting out both hands to pull her into a hug. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Shelby. We’re practically family.”
Her gaze met his again and he got the message. He was toast.
“Oh,” Shelby said, awkwardly returning the hug. “That’s a wonderful way of putting it.”
“Yes, it is, and so true considering you’re dating my husband.” Renny released her, turned around and walked out of the room.
His mother gasped, Lucille groaned and Shelby’s hands dropped almost in sync with her jaw.
“Wha—what?” Shelby stammered.
“Shit.” Darby set the empty plate on the end table with a clatter.
His mother looked confused for only a moment before dawning registered. Then her mouth curved into a smile. “You mean that marriage was legal? Is that why you’ve been so secretive?”
He shoved his hands through his hair. “I haven’t been...well, I have, but it’s complicated.”
“You’re married?” Shelby walked over and jerked his arm, her blue eyes pooling with hurt even though her words sounded incredulous—and maybe angry.
“That’s complicated, too, Shelby, but right now I really need to talk to Renny.”
He didn’t wait for a reply because the slamming of the front door had rattled the crystal in the chandelier. As he walked from the room, he said a prayer.
The prayer was short mostly because Renny turned on him as he stepped onto the porch. Her camera bag sat on the top step and she held the envelope in her hand. She pointed a corner of it at him.
