Tangled Up In You (Fleur de Lis Book 1)

by A. L. Vincent

  She walked around to the sliding glass doors in the front. Noah smiled and waved her in. He was shirtless again. His dark, sleep-rumpled hair fell against his forehead. He looked utterly irresistible. She slid the door closed, and stood there, afraid to move further. She was afraid one step would lead to two, and two would lead to running her fingers through that rumpled hair.

  “You can come on in,” he said. “You wanna make yourself a cup of coffee while I shower?”

  Noah. Shower. Not only motionless, she was now speechless. She nodded.

  “Cool. I won’t be long. I’m running a little late this morning.”

  “I’ll be outside,” she said. Outside with less temptation. Outside where there was no bed in sight. Outside where she couldn’t hear the water run and have mental images that were way too tantalizing.

  “Great,” he said, disappearing into the bedroom. When he left the door open a crack, Emily shot out the doors onto the front deck. When she sat down, she realized she had not even made a cup of coffee.

  “Damn it,” she said aloud. How was she going to explain why she had no coffee when he came outside? Now what to do?

  Quietly, she slid the door back open. Sneaking in like a thief, she padded across the floor. Halfway through the room, she stopped and giggled. If asked, she would simply say she’d needed more cream. She quickly poured coffee into the mug she now considered hers. She was taking a sip when he came out of the bedroom. The cup paused at her lips.

  Sleep-rumpled Noah was half as tempting as wet, freshly showered Noah. She gulped the coffee down, wincing as it burned all the way down to her belly. Good, she thought, maybe that would kill some of the nerve endings that were reacting like crazy. At least he’d put a shirt on.

  He crossed the room and joined her in the kitchen, his presence filling it as it had in her own small kitchen. Emily took an unconscious step back. She sipped the coffee in silence, slower this time.

  “So, whaddya say? Finish this cup of coffee and head out?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “You wanna take a cup to go too? I have a couple of mugs.”

  “That sounds great,” she said.

  He grabbed two plastic travel mugs and filled them full of coffee, adding cream to hers. He handed her a mug, then grabbed a plastic bag out of the fridge and threw it in a small collapsible ice chest.

  Within a few moments they were all loaded up—dogs, ice chests, and crabbing gear. They drove to a place a few miles down the road. There were already a few people casting their nets and lines out along the piers. He pulled out the equipment and two folding chairs, and Emily followed him to a place away from the others.

  “I’ll bait the first one for ya,” he said. “Then you’re on your own.”

  “I can do that,” she said.

  He placed a piece of turkey neck on a hook on a long, thin line. He dipped it down into the water along the pylon.

  “Here ya go,” he said. “Just wait until you feel some tugging. Then slowly pull it up. If you pull too fast, they’ll let go. Then, when you get close to the waterline, I’ll grab the net.”

  “Got it,” she responded.

  It had been a long time since she had gone crabbing, but she was surprised at how much she remembered. She took the end of the line and sat Indian style on the pier. Years ago, she had learned not to dangle her feet when a hungry alligator had surfaced near her feet and nearly scared her to death.

  The sun was warm on her face. She closed her eyes and smiled. She was never going back to Eddie or Lafayette. The freedom and peace she felt the last few days was something she treasured and was not going to give up.

  She felt a tug on the line. Slowly, slowly she started pulling the rope out of the water. She laughed when she saw the crab dangling from the bait. Noah was there with the net to capture and put in the bucket. She baited her string with Noah watching. He nodded and smiled.

  He held out a net. “I’m going to go see what I can catch. Let me know when you catch more.”

  She dropped the bait down into the water and sat waiting. She could hear the splash of Noah’s net hitting the water and being pulled up again. Another tug and she snagged another crab.

  “Noah!” she called. He pulled his net out of the water and grabbed the other net. He captured the crab and threw it in with the other and with the shrimp he had netted.

  He plopped down beside her as she baited the string again. They were quiet. Emily would bring up the crabs, and he would net them.

  They fished in silence until Noah went back to netting shrimp. Emily kept snagging crabs. Before long, they would have enough to boil.

  The sun was now right above them. Emily pulled the sleeves of her t-shirt up to try to tan zombie white skin. She checked the phone for the time. It had to be getting close to noon. They had been here for almost five hours now. She yawned. A nap would be incredible right now. Leaning back, she closed her eyes.

  ***

  She was at the inn. Noah was beside her. He reached out and pulled her closer into his arms. His chin rested on the top of her head. She was wrapped up tight in his arms until he turned her around. He kissed her forehead. He kissed her cheek. He kissed her nose. He leaned in to kiss her mouth.

  “Hold on there, sister.” It was Eddie. He was sitting beside her now. “What do you think you’re doing? You think you can just go off and leave me and everything is just going to work out for you?”

  Emily said nothing and Noah pulled away.

  “He’s too good for you, you know. You can’t even think he’d stay with you for long. You’re a mess. Just like me. We belong together.”

  Emily turned and Noah was gone.

  ***

  Something tickled her nose. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to swat it away. Opening her eyes, she saw Noah dangling a piece of grass from his fingers. He’d been tickling her face with it.

  “Sweet dreams?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said, remembering the dream about Eddie. She could do without those kinds of dreams.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  “Actually, I am,” she said. “I think I could use a nice long walk along the beach and a nap. And I still need to settle in. I can’t stand living out of a suitcase.”

  “Gotcha. We’ll get you home.” He helped her to her feet. “We’ll do something with these crab and shrimp later. I’ll clean them up tonight, and we can decide tomorrow. What do you think?”

  “I think that sounds great.”

  ***

  Emily could see the rain approaching across the gulf through the pale beige curtains. She loved this view. Anytime she wanted, she could open the curtains and stare out at the water. The mid-morning sky was gray, the sun nonexistent. The waves were even gray. It was a bleary morning.

  Emily sat on the bed cross-legged. She was thankful that she had brought the bright pink fuzzy cotton Betty Boop pajamas. They fit her mood this morning even though the stormy weather outside didn’t. Inside, she was content, almost happy.

  A suitcase lay open on the floor, along with the few other items she’d grabbed. She had thrown a quilt, a dog-eared, stained cookbook, and the laptop in the car before grabbing Oscar.

  She had left so many things behind. A bookcase full of treasured books. The photo albums on the coffee table. Maybe she’d go back for them. A few summers ago, she had scanned all the photos and saved them onto the laptop. If she never got the albums back, she could always reprint the pictures. An extensive music collection was on the laptop too. Pop songs with catchy sing-along lyrics streamed from the computer’s weak speakers. Every now and then, she caught herself singing along while she unpacked. The stay may be temporary, but she still wanted to make it feel like home. Her home.

  Emily grabbed the red, white, and blue quilt laying on top of the huge, beaten-up suitcase first. After her parents had passed, Grams had taken material from their favorite clothes and quilted Emily this blanket. After years of washing, drying, and cove
ring Emily in comfort, it was faded and even worn out in some spots.

  Emily folded it again gently. Where should she put it? Not on the bed. The quilt was wearing out. Time had done enough damage. Maybe the foot of the bed, just to drape the end? No. Oscar tended to jump up there during storms. The plain wooden headboard? Perfect. She folded the quilt in half and gently draped it over the top.

  Another of Gram’s favorite bible verses was quilted at the bottom, floating above the small pile of pillows.

  And now these three remain faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.

  1 Corinthians 13:13

  It reminded her that she was loved, no matter what. She hadn’t always had faith or hope, but her family had loved her. And here was proof. She touched the soft, worn fabric and smiled.

  The various shades of blue denim were from her dad’s jeans. An oilfield worker and fisherman, he had lived in beat up blue jeans. No fancy work clothes for him. White cotton from t-shirts dotted with oil smudges were from him as well.

  The white flannel fabric with red roses was from her mother’s favorite robe. An avid gardener with a spectacular green thumb, her mother had surrounded herself with flowers of all shades, sizes, and scents. Gardenias had been a favorite, and the smell always reminded Emily of her mother. She should plant some gardenias in Grams’ garden if there weren’t any there already.

  What would her parents think of the mess her life had become? Her dad would find a way to make it better with a joke. Laughter, for him, had always been the best medicine. Emily hoped that the brown eyes she’d inherited would echo his one day. His laugh-lined eyes were a testament to a life well lived and enjoyed.

  Her brown hair had come from her mother. How many times had Emily come home to find her working in the garden? With dirty smudges on her face? Enjoying the feel of the dirt under her hands—she had never been one to use gloves.

  That quilt meant home. And now, this was home. For however long she needed to stay. Emily climbed back into the bed to watch the water. There wasn’t much else to do. There was a small television in the living room that caught a few local channels. It wasn’t much, but Emily had never been one to watch television anyway. She loved all the cooking shows, but couldn’t catch any on that TV. Lost in thought, she’d rather listen to music this afternoon anyway.

  Two days ago, she’d been stuck, and now she was free. She flexed her legs out, glorying in the space. It was her bed. Her house. She could run around naked if she wanted. She could listen to cheesy love songs. She could sing at the top of her lungs. She could pull a Risky Business and sing old rock in a t-shirt and socks. She could do anything she wanted.

  She giggled.

  Oscar looked up from his makeshift bed, as if confused by the laughter. Lord knew there hadn’t been much to laugh about in the past few months.

  For the first time, she was free to do whatever she wanted.

  Freedom.

  “I could get used to this,” she said, climbing out of the bed. She took off at a jog, and slid through the living room in socks, true Risky Business style.

  Chapter Six

  The rain was still lightly falling as Emily pulled up to Gram and Pops’. The grey background only added to the sadness of the house. A light drizzle seeped down the broken windows and onto the chipped paint.

  She grabbed the spare key that lay under the smooth round rock in the front flowerbed. With shaking hands, she unlocked the front door and slowly opened it. The hinges squeaked in protest.

  The sheets Emily had covered the furniture with were still mostly in place, but dotted with brown spots. Bits of now beige ceiling plaster littered the floor where the roof had leaked. Several brown circles dotted the ceiling. Rafters peeked through small holes.

  Emily walked through the living room. After Grams died, she had come down, packed up most of the important pictures and items into plastic tubs, and put them in the attic. Would they be okay?

  The kitchen was next. She closed her eyes and pushed open the door.

  “Thank God,” she said, looking around. The kitchen had suffered little rain damage. All the windows were intact, and the ceiling was in good shape. This room had weathered well.

  Emily roamed through the kitchen. The sounds of shoes hitting the hardwood floor echoed through a room that had hardly ever been silent. The red pepper accents she and Grams had painted on the white cabinets when she’d been accepted to the University of Louisiana-Lafayette had faded some, but not much. They had fared better than the matching curtains. The sun had bleached the bright red to a dull orange.

  The cast iron pot used to make so many gumbos was still sitting on the stove. Emily was saddened at the amount of rust it had accumulated. It would need to be cleaned and seasoned again. But Emily was glad she had left it, at least it was here and not in Lafayette.

  Emily walked past the farmhouse style sink where Noah and Pops would clean the day’s shrimp after a day of fun in the sun. Noah and Pops would clean the shrimp, and then she and Grams would cook an etouffee, a sauce piquant, or a gumbo. Sometimes, Grams and Pops would invite the neighbors over, and they’d tell jokes and visit well into the night.

  The layer of dust on the small kitchen island reminded Emily of rolling out homemade biscuits. To smell that smell one more time. Every Sunday morning after mass, Grams had made homemade biscuits and gravy, sausage, and hash browns for breakfast. What she would give to spend one more morning in this kitchen with them. Emily’s eyes watered.

  The bedrooms were next. Emily barely looked at the living room as she crossed it, walking down the hallway to the back of the house where the bedrooms and bathrooms were. She entered her grandparents’ room first. Emily hadn’t touched this room when she had come down here after the funeral. It had been too much to handle.

  An old quilt still lay on the bed. Emily walked over to it and picked up a pillow. She raised it to her face, hoping to get a whiff of Grams’ floral perfume. She laid it down sadly. The scent had faded long ago.

  Emily sat down on the bed and eyed the items on the nightstand. She picked up a picture from her twenty-first birthday. Grams and Pops had driven up to Lafayette and they had celebrated with mimosas at Blue Dog’s Sunday brunch. She laid the picture down, feeling the pain of heavy grief.

  Grams’ rosary lay beside the picture. It was still in the small clear plastic container with the Virgin Mary on the lid. Emily twisted off the lid and raised it to her nose. She smiled at the sweet smell of roses. She took the chain of small reddish-brown beads out, resting the cold metal crucifix in her hands. How long had it been since she had said the rosary? Sat in church? Prayed? Too long, Emily thought. She curled the rosary back up and put it back, sliding the container into the pocket of the hooded jacket.

  The closet door stood open. Grams and Pops’ clothes still hung where they had left them. What would she do with them? Emily thought of the blanket she had hung up that morning. Maybe make a quilt. Glinda would know how and have any supplies needed to get started. Glinda would help. Maybe they’d make two. One for Emily and one for Glinda.

  Emily ran her hand along the bed again and then pushed herself up. Her old room was next.

  She pushed the door open and smiled. Grams had left everything just as it had been when she had gone away to college. Posters of long-haired eighties singers blowing kisses from neon colored backgrounds had once adorned these walls. Emily shook her head. How many crushes had she had on those rock and roll stars?

  She crossed over to the desk and looked at the pictures tacked above it. High school pictures. Oh dear God, that hair! A slight mistake at the hairdresser had dyed her hair platinum blonde instead of the frosted look that was so popular at the time. But Grams had comforted her as she cried and cried. Said she was beautiful no matter what. When she got to school the next day, instead of the expected snickers, everyone had loved it. Emily smiled—only in the ’80s would white hair be that cool.

  Then there was the picture of her and Noah. Pops
had taken the picture after a fishing trip. She was about thirteen then, thin as a rail, and tanned a golden brown by the summer sun that matched the highlights in her brown hair. She was holding a red snapper that was almost as big as she. She had teased Noah relentlessly that day, as it had been Emily that caught the biggest fish.

  “Emily?” She jumped at the sound. Noah was in the doorway.

  She gestured to the picture. “Remember this?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I remember. You were quite annoying that day.”

  She laughed at that. “I’m sure I was.”

  “Man, that was a long time ago,” Noah said. “You ready to take a look around?”

  Later, after completing the walk-through, Emily walked with Noah out the front door and onto the porch.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks, Em. Mostly cosmetic. No structural damage that I can see. Some elbow grease and you’ll be back in this house in no time.”

  He eyed the broken chain on the porch swing.

  “Remember that?” he asked.

  She blushed and smiled. How could she forget her first kiss?

  “Of course.”

  “Hang on. I think I may have some stuff in my truck to fix this,” he said, and bounded off the porch to the truck. He came back with a toolbox and a few feet of small chain.

  Emily watched as he set about fixing the swing. His movements were swift and sure, and in no time, the swing was rocking slowly.

  “Come see,” he said. “Give it a try.”

  She crossed over and gingerly sat on the swing.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  She relaxed on the swing, rocking it back and forth with her feet.

  “Good job.”

  He sat down on the swing beside her. “See, good as new.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “How much do you think it will cost?”

  “The swing?” he asked. “That’s nothing.”