Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  The historic river walk crowd thinned out the farther he got from the bookstore and by the time he made it to the second block, it was a less of a hectic atmosphere. The people seemed more inclined to peek at the window displays and gaze out at the river. The music was barely noticeable at that distance and he felt his shoulders start to relax. For once, he felt a little more like every other person in the city. Well, except for the dancing foam cupcake at the end of the block.

  It wasn’t really dancing, actually. More shuffling from side to side in a rhythmic manner. Not that he was such a great dancer, but this man certainly hadn’t been born with any skills. Or maybe he was hampered by the suit. Or the tights, which looked painfully small. Andy frowned, trying to decide whether he was dancing at all, or simply trying to alleviate some discomfort.

  As he reached the corner, he tripped over his own feet. He’d been so intent on the cupcake that he hadn’t noticed his shoe was untied. He knelt down to tie it, getting an up close view of the cupcake’s blue running shoes. The laces were pink and he wondered for a moment if the man had chosen the laces to match the foam frosting. He couldn’t imagine a man would bother to match the laces and mentally readjusted his idea of the human inside the suit. Looking up a little further, he could see the legs were definitely of the womanly variety. Maybe a man would carry that much padding at the thighs, but the overall shape was feminine, with small ankles and rounded calves. All the heavy men that he knew had calves like sticks. Then again, there were some older women who had straight legs, too.

  The shoes were now stationary, planted firmly on the sidewalk. Andy glanced up and saw the cupcake’s hands fisted at its hips. Or where its hips would have been, if it hadn’t been wearing a foam costume.

  He jumped up. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to… I was just looking at your… I was wondering if you were a woman.”

  The cupcake didn’t move.

  “My shoe was untied.” He pointed to his foot.

  Still no answer.

  “I was on my way to dinner.” The cupcake surely didn’t care. He started to turn away.

  One hand motioned, pointing at the front of his jacket.

  “I should have changed after work.” The cupcake was giving him style advice?

  The hand came closer, brushing at his lapels. He could see the remains of powdered sugar there.

  “That must have been from the beignets.” He brushed at the other side. “Funny. I ate those at ten this morning, saw at least twenty people today and nobody mentioned it. Or maybe they just didn’t notice.” He wasn’t sure which was worse. Paul would have said something, and Mrs. Connors, but he’d spent the day with strangers, like he usually did.

  He glanced up. “I sounded sorry for myself, didn’t I?”

  The cupcake held up her thumb and index finger about an inch a part. A little bit.

  “I’m whining about some powdered sugar and you’re stuck in one of Dante’s rings.”

  The cupcake stepped back, both hands palm outward. Woah.

  “Not that you did anything to deserve this. I’m not saying you’re trapped in the fiery tombs because of blasphemy or whatever.” He was trying to make a joke but it was coming out all wrong.

  The cupcake pointed upward.

  “Not the right ring?” He’d played the game a few times but only read the poem once. “The seventh ring has the minotaur, right?”

  The cupcake shook one hand in a “forget that” motion and pointed down.

  “Fifth? Fourth?”

  Still more pointing.

  “Third?”

  Stop.

  “The third ring was reserved for gluttons.” He started to laugh.

  The cupcake flashed a thumbs up.

  “I just read that a few days ago. They’re mute and sightless, laying out in the rain.”

  The cupcake clapped.

  “Oh, I get it.” He bent down a little. “You can’t see out of the little screen there?”

  The cupcake shook its body from side to side, like a giant head.

  “But there’s a little hole right there…” He could see some exposed skin behind the painted screen and realized how close he was. Stepping back, he said, “Not catching you at eye level, then.”

  Another shake.

  “I don’t think you’re the glutton, though. You’re a little too active. Cerberus was there, too. Maybe you’re the guard dog.”

  Her hands were back on her hips.

  “Not that you’re a dog. Not at all.” Andy felt a stab of panic. It was his first real conversation with a stranger and he’d just called her a three-headed dog. “It’s just you’re out here in front of the bakery and maybe it’s filled with gluttons and… I should stop.”

  The cupcake reached out and patted his arm. She seemed to have forgiven him.

  A little girl dressed all in pink came out of nowhere, grabbing the cupcake around the knees. The woman in the suit put out her hands for balance.

  “Mama, I want to take it home!”

  “No, Crystal, let it go.” The mother looked as if her daughter had picked up a cockroach. She reached out and tried to pry her loose. “It’s dirty. I’ll get you a real cupcake.”

  “No, I want this one!” The little girl closed her eyes and started to wail.

  “It’s not coming home with us. We don’t even have any place to put it.” The mother gripped the little girl’s arms and started to pull. After a few seconds of tugging, she looked at Andy. “Why can’t she be one of those kids that hates costumes?”

  He stepped forward, unsure how to help. He didn’t know much about kids, but he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he didn’t know these people, and therefore wasn’t at liberty to touch any of them. Just as he was considering taking out a dollar and bribing the girl, her mother managed to wrench one hand free. It came loose with a ripping sound, the toddler’s fingernails gouging holes in the cupcake’s tights. The mother swept her up and walked down the sidewalk without another word.

  Reaching behind her, the cupcake felt around until she found the holes that stretched almost to her knees. Andy couldn’t see her face, but he could have sworn he heard a loud sigh.

  “Are you okay?”

  The cupcake flashed him a double thumbs up.

  He brushed a drop of sweat from his forehead and he couldn’t imagine how hot it was inside that costume. “Listen, I’m going to pop into the bakery. I’ll be right back.”

  The cupcake waved one hand and turned back to the corner. She was probably relieved he was leaving. What an odd job that must be, alternating between invisibility and public humiliation.

  Pushing open the glass doors of the bakery, Andy looked across the busy room, scanning the far wall for a list of desserts and drinks. Instead, there was a long glass case of treats, a cash register and a stack of menus. It was a sit down sort of place, and it reminded him how far he was from home. Standing in a long line at a deli or a coffee house, a person needed to read the menu and decide by the time they reached the counter. The air conditioning wasn’t quite up to the weather but a large fan in the corner helped move the air around a little. The little tables were decorated with silk flowers, the chairs looked a little care worn, and the checkerboard floor had seen better days. One of the overhead lights flickered at the end of the room.

  “Can I help you?”

  He turned, surprised at how quietly the waitress had snuck up on him. Her name tag said ‘Raylene’ and she looked about fifteen, but that couldn’t have been right, since she also wore a wedding band.

  “I wanted to get a cold drink for the cupcake.”

  “A cold Coke and a cupcake? Yes, sir. All our cupcakes are over here in the case. Our most popular are dark chocolate fudge buttercream and strawberry lemonade.” She moved toward the counter, pointing at them through the glass.

  “No, I meant that I’d like to buy a drink for the cupcake outside.” He glanced down at her nametag. “Raylene,” he added for good measure. He was never sure when a
person was supposed to add the “ma’am” and decided against it.

  Her blue eyes widened. “You mean Cupcake?”

  “Yes, the cupcake.” The other guests were listening intently and he heard a chuckle behind him.

  “A Coke?”

  Andy paused. He really couldn’t tell if she was taking his order or not. “Listen, the cupcake seemed hot and I wanted to get her a cold drink. If you know her, maybe you can just get whatever she prefers to drink, and I’ll take it out to her.” Again he thought of adding “ma’am” and still couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Please.”

  The waitress started to grin. “Yes, sir. Let me go get a nice cold iced tea.”

  “Thank you.” As she walked away, Andy glanced at the other patrons. An older couple nodded at him in a respectful sort of way, as if he’d proven himself by finally getting his point across.

  If Paul were here, he’d be giving him that narrow-eyed gaze that spoke of deep concern, but as crazy as it seemed, Andy felt a connection to the poor abused cupcake. Maybe it was the fact she was the only person to tip him off about the breakfast clinging to his suit, maybe it was the fact that he felt as mute as she was.

  Whatever the reason, his gut was telling him that this odd little gesture of charity toward another human being was a good step toward feeling like a person again.

  ****

  Inside the cupcake suit, Roxie was having trouble breathing slowly and calmly. He’d just been reading Dante.

  Of course he was just visiting. He probably wasn’t here for more than a day or two. Maybe even here with his wife and kids. She tried her best to reign in her imagination but she kept replaying the moment he’d knelt in front of her. He had that blonde hair- blue eye pairing she’d always thought was so handsome. The thigh-gazing was a little odd, but she believed him when he said he wasn’t trying to be creepy. He didn’t have that vibe. He had a big city, ultra-educated, well-read, too-cool-for-Natchitoches vibe. Dressed in a dark blue Brooks Brothers suit and wearing Hugo Boss dress shoes, he couldn’t have been more out of place if he’d been waving a sign.

  Waving both hands at a couple walking past, she said a small prayer of thanks that the guy hadn’t been able to see her face. She was a sweaty, disgusting mess. He never would have stopped and chatted if he’d been able to see inside. Not that her outside would win any beauty contests.

  She tried to bend backward a little so she could see through the mesh screen, craning her neck to see if he was coming back. Maybe he just thought that was a better way to end the strange little conversation, but she hoped he would come back.

  But then what? She rolled her eyes at herself. She was so desperate for any kind of interaction that didn’t involve hearing about her shortcomings or how the bakery was doing that she hoping a good-looking stranger would come back and talk to her. Or not even to her, but at her.

  She turned her back on the bakery and focused on the stream of pedestrians. She’d fought to have a voice in the world, studying hard in college and living independently in Philly. She’d had friends and a job she liked well enough. But now she was attaching a lot of importance to a few minutes of chatter and she probably wouldn’t ever cross his mind again. Maybe the sudden urge to spend a few more minutes with this guy said more about her emotional state, than anything about him.

  The faint sound of a live band echoed down the block. The Crawfish Festival was in full swing. Only a few more hours until Mamere would close the bakery and she could go home. Of course, her apartment was right above the main event area, but at least she could breathe the fresh air and watch the party from the comfort of her own living room. Maybe she’d work on her translation of the Iliad. She hadn’t looked at it in months but it sounded like a great way to unwind after the horrible day.

  “I wasn’t sure what to get you.”

  She turned at the sound of his voice. Through the vent, she could see a large drink cradled in a pair of masculine hands. He’d come back. And he’d brought her sweet tea.

  “Raylene said this was what you usually drink.”

  She reached out and took the cup, feeling the slick of condensation against the cold plastic. She hadn’t realized how really thirsty she was and now it felt as if every cell in her body focused on the drink in her hands. Bringing it up toward the vent, she tried to get the straw into the hole, but it was like threading a needle in the dark.

  “Here, let me.” He poked the straw through the little hole, just an inch or two, which she thought was very wise since he had no idea what was behind that screen. For all he knew, he could be jabbing her in the eye.

  The bright pink straw was near her chin and Roxie bent her head, fighting a sudden fear that this straw wouldn’t be long enough. Sucking in the ice cold tea, she wondered if she would remember this moment forever, the moment a handsome stranger came out of nowhere to offer her refreshment after a long, horrible day. If it were a fairy tale, then he would be the journeying knight and she’d be the captive maiden. But it was more like something out of the old myths, where a traveler did a good deed for a helpless, trapped animal and won a boon in return. If only she had a boon to offer.

  “And now I really am like Virgil, except I’m poking a straw in there instead of stuffing mud into Cerberus’ three mouths.”

  Roxie choked on a mouthful of tea, inhaling it right into her wind pipe. Her coughing echoed inside the cone-shaped helmet.

  “Are you okay? Maybe that wasn’t the best comparison.” His voice was tinged with laughter. “I just have Dante on the brain.”

  She lifted one hand, palm up.

  “Why? Oh, it’s sort of a long story. I’m reading through the classics, looking for something really different and creative that I can turn into something new and creative.”

  Maybe he was a writer and was going to rewrite the Greek myths, like Rick Riordan had for the Percy Jackson series. But then of course, it had already been done. He must be looking for something older to recycle for the next generation. Her mind raced with the possibilities.

  “I should go. I’m supposed to meet friends at the Crawfish Festival.” He hadn’t stepped away, but she saw his body shift and knew it was only a few seconds before he was gone forever.

  She reached out and took his hand. His fingers tightened around hers.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. His tone wasn’t the cheerful “don’t worry about it” sort of acknowledgment, but a heartfelt response to her touch.

  He released her hand and walked away.

  Roxie watched him until he was out of sight.

  She’d never believed in love at first sight. It was simply a potent combination of hormones, pheromones, physical attractiveness, and opportunity. Nobody fell in love with someone who wasn’t clearly available and equally interested in them. Instant love was what a person said when they didn’t want to admit what was really at the root of the emotion.

  That’s what Roxie had believed until that moment. Now everything she’d known about love vanished. In its place was a powerful certainty that this man, this kind stranger who quoted Dante and gave drink to the thirsty, had captured her heart.

  Chapter Four

  “There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.”

  ― Homer, The Odyssey

  Andy stood in his bedroom and stared at the closet. Paul had a collection of gaming T-shirts but it was a running joke that Andy had twenty gray T-shirts and always bought the same kind of jeans. When he wasn’t at work, he didn’t want to think about what to wear. It had been one more way to streamline his busy life, but now a closet full of all one color looked sort of depressing.

  He slipped a shirt over his head and considered a whether to bring a hoodie. He’d tried running in the morning and it was hot. He’d switched to afternoon and it was hotter. Maybe he should go running right before bed because now the evening air was cool and carried the promise of a breeze. That l
ittle breath of air wasn’t anything close to New York City in the fall but it would be easier to sleep when it wasn’t ninety degrees at midnight.

  Paul and Alice would be arriving at any moment. Usually at this point in the outing, Andy had a knot in his gut and wondered how he could fake some sudden illness. He’d always been extroverted, preferring to be around people than to be alone, but now he couldn’t seem to find his niche. Now that Paul was happily married, Andy felt like a lone wolf. It hadn’t been as obvious back in New York City but now he realized how much he’d come to rely on Paul. As an overly-tall geek who had a passion for gaming, he’d thought it had been hard to meet women before. It was nothing compared to his life now that he’d lost his wing man and moved to a tiny Southern town.

  As much as he dreaded it, he needed to get out of the apartment tonight. The living room still looked inviting, with its stack of prototype games and large screens, and the zydeco music filtering in through the window still sounded more like noise than music, but the idea of roaming around in the crowd sounded better than hanging out with his own guilt.

  He’d called Mark as soon as he’d arrived home and the sound of his brother’s voice haunted him. The palpable sadness traveled across the miles and burrowed into his heart. It twisted in his gut as he dropped his keys into his pocket. He’d wondered if his brother missed him. He clearly did, and the knowledge weighed heavily on Andy as he slumped into the chair by the fireplace, waiting to go out to the party. He’d never wanted freedom from his responsibilities, never once dreamed of living an existence that didn’t include Mark. It was forced on him now and all he could taste was regret.