Storms Over Secrets

by J. A. Derouen

  “Don’t touch that. Don’t ever touch that.” Her words come out in a hiss, and it seems I’m not the only irrational one in the room.

  I hold my hands up and bow my head in apology.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. It was just sitting on top of the box and it caught my eye. No big deal, okay?”

  She drops her head and shakes it from side to side, as if she’s emptying it of less-than-pleasant thoughts. When she meets my eyes, hers are swimming in unshed tears.

  Fuck me.

  “It’s okay. Just, please…”

  I’m good with light and easy, but weepy women are my kryptonite. I’m not sure of the significance of the photo, but I’d have to be a moron to miss the signs. I need a subject change, and quick.

  “So you never said why you’re moving to Providence. New job? School?” My voice sounds unnaturally cheerful, even to my own ears.

  “Um, yeah,” she stammers as she gathers herself and places the frame in her lap. She keeps her head down while using her shirt to wipe smudges from the glass. “I’ve lived in Providence for a while now. I just got my master’s degree in counseling from Northern U. They tend to kick you out of the dorm when you’re no longer a student. I planned to share this house with my best friend, Audrey, but she found an apartment close to her office for a song. So, now it’s just me.” Her voice is gradually getting more light-hearted, and my chest loosens at the sound.

  No crying on my watch—that should be my motto.

  “And you’ve decided to stick around?”

  “My mentor through graduate school runs a clinic here in town called New Horizons Outreach Center. Have you heard of it?” I shake my head in the negative, and she shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, anyway, I’m going to be volunteering over there while I set up my counseling practice. I’m a therapist for the chronically mentally ill.”

  “I can guarantee you’ll have a booming business. Providence has more than its share of nutbags, let me tell you,” I say with a chuckle, thinking of my angry, eccentric grandpa.

  “Don’t call them nutbags. They’re people just like you,” she hisses, and her delicate fingers whiten as she grips her beloved picture frame.

  I wince at the harsh tone of her voice. Damn, I’m batting a thousand with this girl. I should cut my losses and get the hell out of here before I shove my booted foot any further down my throat.

  “They’re not just people, Tink; they’re my people. My family. I don’t mean any disrespect, I can promise you that. This is the South. We parade our crazy down the street and prop it up on the porch every Sunday for a weekly viewing. You won’t find any judgment here.”

  “Not everyone feels that way…” she whispers as she studies her painted fingernails. She sounds pensive, and way too close to the edge of sad for my liking.

  I wait until she meets my eyes before I slap my hands on my knees and stand up. “On that note, since I’m sure I’ve reached my quota of insults for the day, I’m gonna leave you to it. In my defense, I’m usually quite the charmer. I seem to be off my game today. I’ll blame it on the lack of sleep.”

  “Cain, wait, I didn’t mean to make you feel—” She starts to stand, and I stop her movement and words with my raised hand.

  “I know you didn’t. Don’t give it a second thought. It’s nice to meet you, Celia. Rent’s due by the fifth of every month,” I say with a carefree wink that I hope eases her mind.

  She offers a resolute nod and grim smile. “You, too, Cain. Thanks again.”

  How many times can you make the pretty girl cry? Nice going asshole…

  I exit Celia’s house in a hurry and hear the basketball hitting the pavement in a steady rhythm. I steel myself for the ribbing that’s sure to come.

  As I step off the porch and onto the driveway, Adam, my close friend and tenant from the house next door, throws the ball in my direction.

  I catch it without ever looking up. I played high school and college basketball for seven years. I’ll smoke Adam’s pansy ass any and every day of the week. I’ve spanned the yard and slam-dunked the ball before he can even react.

  “I didn’t know Bennett Rentals had a move-in service. Where was all this hospitality last year when I moved in?”

  “Screw you, man. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let that tiny girl move all that shit herself. And don’t think I didn’t see you drive up halfway through the process. You could have offered your services, you lazy shit.”

  I toss the ball back to him and block his shot with ease.

  “Yeah, I drove up halfway through with a truck full of groceries and two munchkins in tow,” Adam explains as he tosses his gaze over to his porch. “Those two would have added nothing but chaos to that equation."

  Lily and Gage are sitting cross-legged with a pile of Legos between them. Their heads are lowered in deep concentration, almost touching. Adam’s niece and nephew are the most adorable little people I’ve ever come across, but he’s right, they have a knack for amping up the bedlam in any situation.

  He eyes them for a moment longer, his face going soft with affection, before putting his attention back on me. Yeah, those two kids have both our numbers.

  “Besides, I didn’t want to mess up your game. You know, in case she’s digging the whole “gentle giant” thing you’ve got going on,” he says with a chuckle and a wave in my direction. He fakes right and gets past me in a weak moment. His easy lay up just spurs me on.

  “What? You think she’d dig on your emo, faux-hawk-wearing ass instead? Please, dude, no woman in her right mind would choose you over me.” I laugh as I tag him with a fake jab to the gut.

  “It’s the tats, man. Chicks dig the tats.”

  “That flowery shit going up your arm? What-the-fuck-ever.”

  “You can have this one, man. I don’t shit that close to home. It’s bad karma. You can’t hit and quit someone who lives next door, and you know that’s all I’m up for these days.”

  Adam’s a great guy and a fantastic father, but he’s not what I would call relationship material. I’ve pushed him on the subject before, and he says the only relationship that he’s focused on is with his children. Being a single dad is his top priority—as it should be.

  Lily and Gage have already experienced more than enough heartbreak in their young lives. Adam’s sister died in a horrific domestic violence incident, and the family nearly lost the twins, too. At twenty years old, Adam gained custody. I’m sure there have been trying times, but I know without a doubt he doesn’t regret a single day spent being a father to his sister’s children. The day he became a dad, dating dropped way down on the priority list.

  I get that. I respect it. I don’t know if the women he flash-fucks feel the same way, but that’s not my problem. I’d bet money Adam is upfront about his level of commitment, or lack thereof, so it’s an “Enter At Your Own Risk” type of situation.

  I toss the ball to him and slap his back as I walk away.

  “Neither of us are getting the green light from her, I can promise you that. Sweet as pie, but I’m pretty sure she’s taken.”

  “Probably for the best,” I hear him say as I sneak up on Lily and Gage for an impromptu tickle session. Their belly laughs are priceless.

  I look next door and see the girl in question leaning against the porch banister, eyes closed, head tilted toward the sun, and a pretty pink smile playing on her lips.

  Probably for the best … I’m not sure I agree with Adam this time.

  “One Sweet Love” by Sara Bareilles

  The Past

  I RUN THE cold silver chain through my fingers and smile to myself as I close the refrigerator door. I smooth my thumb over the grooves of the St. Jude medallion while making my way to the living room.

  “Grams, I found your necklace … in the fridge. How in the world did it end up there? And why do you insist on wearing this silly thing?”

  She eyes me over the top of her reading glasses and places her yarn and crochet hook in her lap. She pretends t
o be bothered by my question, but the gentle tug on the corner of her mouth gives her away.

  “I would think the fact that you found it in the refrigerator would be all the explanation you needed, sweet pea. If anyone needs prayers from the patron saint of lost causes, it’s this old geezer here.”

  I place the necklace in her outstretched hand, rolling my eyes in amusement. She puts it around her neck and taps the medal into her ample bosom, silently assuring herself it’s back where it belongs. I’ve lived with my grandmother nearly all my life, and that necklace is as permanent a fixture in her life as she is in mine. If she hadn’t adopted me when my mother, her daughter, passed away, I have no idea where I’d be today.

  “Lucas is gonna come check on you at about eight o’clock, Grams. I promise I won’t be too late.” I reach down and kiss her powder-dusted cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume. Anais Anais—it’s all she wears, and I’d know the scent anywhere. I wince at the shrill buzzing of her hearing aid, but train my face back into a smile before I rise.

  “I’m perfectly capable of giving my own insulin shots, Celia Marie Lemaire. You can tell Lucas to keep his bee-hind at home. Besides, he should be going with you to this party. What type of boyfriend is he, letting my only granddaughter go out unescorted?” she rants, jabbing her crochet hook in my direction and setting her jaw.

  “Calm down, Grams. I’m going with Audrey and a few other friends. It’s a girls’ night … no boys allowed. Besides, Lucas doesn’t want to go to high school parties now that he’s a college boy. He’s got better things to do, I’m sure.”

  “Exactly, he’s got much better things to do than poke me,” she says, pursing her lips. She closes her eyes for a moment, slowly opens them, and smiles as she takes in my appearance. I smooth my linen skirt, straighten my spine, and pull my shoulders back. “You look beautiful. To have the privilege of watching you become the stunning young woman standing before me? Well, there’s no greater gift in this world. Which is exactly why Lucas shouldn’t let you out of his sight. This old lady can take care of herself.” Her voice turns up at the end, as if she knows she’s wasting her time but refuses to give up the good fight.

  I shake my head as I gather my purse and keys. “He’s got nothing to worry about. You know that, Grams.”

  Lucas Landry gave me my first kiss in fourth grade behind the concession stand at the community ballpark. There have been thousands of kisses between us since that day, and I have every intention of kissing that boy every day for the rest of my life. This world is clouded with uncertainty, but Lucas is the one thing in my life I never question.

  “I certainly do, Celia. That boy eases my mind when I think of leaving you all alone in this life. Lucas will take care of my sweet girl when I’m gone, just as you’ll take care of him.” Even from across the room, I see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes, just as she grabs her hook and yarn, refocusing on her crochet. She clears her throat and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, never meeting my eyes. “Be careful tonight, sweet pea. You and Audrey look after each other, ya hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Love you, Grams,” I call out as I head out the front door, trying to push the unwelcome thoughts of one day being without her out of my mind. I breathe in a gulp of the muggy evening air, already feeling the beads of sweat collecting at the bend of my elbows. Louisiana weather is nothing if not humid.

  My eyes focus on the two-story house across the street, and my lips curve into a smile when I see the navy blue drapes pull back from the second-story bedroom.

  Lucas.

  I hurry down the driveway and across the street, praying Audrey isn’t quite ready to leave yet. She primps with the best of them, so the odds are in my favor. I want to steal a few precious moments with her brother … my boyfriend. But if Audrey thinks for one second Lucas is encroaching on our girls’ night, she’ll rip me out of his arms without a second’s thought. Fights between her and Lucas can get … sticky for me. I try my best to be Switzerland in all Landry household disputes.

  Before my foot breeches the first step onto the front porch, an eager hand clutches my arm and jerks me to the side of the house. An excited giggle escapes my lips as I struggle to regain my footing. Lucas rights me with firm fingers digging into my waist. He buries his head in my neck and inhales.

  “Hmmmm, sunshine,” he says with a smile in his voice.

  What girls’ night?

  He breaks away and peppers my neck with open-mouthed kisses. “I knew the second you opened the front door, Audrey would steal you away. I want a few minutes with my girl.”

  His breath tickles my ear in the most delicious way, and I turn my head to give him better access.

  “You know, you could meet us there … it’s not Audrey’s party or anything. She can’t uninvite you,” I whisper, wishing I could stay tucked inside Lucas’s arms for eternity.

  He breaks away as his thumbs brush my cheeks. His eyes soften, and his lips turn into a slight frown. “Those parties are always so loud, Celia—everyone bumping into each other, spilling their drinks, starting fights. It’s just not my thing.”

  “What about me? Am I your ‘thing’ anymore?” I ask with a pout.

  He squeezes my neck and searches my eyes. “Are you my thing? Fuck, Celia, you’re my everything. You know that.”

  “Lucas, you think you’re so slick, but I saw you grab Celia to maul her behind the house! It’s girls’ night. No boys, and especially no YOU!”

  I can’t see Audrey, but I’m sure her hands are fisted on her hips and she’s shooting daggers in our direction. I sneak a peek around the corner of the house and jump back, flinching at the sight of my infuriated best friend.

  “Gotta go.” I shrug with a wince and laugh.

  I walk away, holding Lucas’s hand until the very last second, turning to catch one last look at those gentle brown eyes that own me. When I look up to face my accuser, my very irritated best friend, I startle at the sight of her mother leaning against the doorframe.

  “Hi, Mrs. Cindy. I didn’t see you there,” I say, with a shaky voice and flushed cheeks.

  “Celia, it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” she replies with a smile. Mrs. Cindy leans out of the doorway and cranes her neck. “You can come out now, Lucas. It’s safe to say you’ve been caught.”

  Lucas slinks out of hiding, having the good sense to look sheepish as he passes Audrey with an apologetic shrug. While he gets a chuckle from his mom and me, Audrey growls as he passes.

  “Grams all set up for tonight, Celia?” Mrs. Cindy asks, ever the diplomat, trying to divert Audrey’s attention to a less infuriating topic.

  “Yes, ma’am, Lucas has it covered,” I answer as I pass through the doorway and into the foyer.

  The Landrys are much more than neighbors. They’ve become part of our family. Grams and I can both be stubborn, refusing the help of others, but this generous family doesn’t take no for an answer, and I couldn’t be more grateful. Whether Lucas is helping with Grams’s meds, or Mr. Gene is deciphering insurance and medical bills, or Mrs. Cindy is inviting us to dinner, this family comes through for us every single time.

  “I’m glad Lucas can help. Now, I need you to keep my rambunctious daughter out of trouble tonight. You think you can do that? I know it’s an arduous task…”

  “Mom, I’m perfectly capable of staying out of trouble,” Audrey explains as she pulls me by the hand and up the stairs to her room. She stops short and a smile plays on her lips. “Well, most of the time, at least.”

  “Audrey Grace,” Mrs. Cindy starts, but Audrey raises her hand in protest.

  “I promise, Mom. Best behavior, I swear,” she says with a solemn expression. As quickly as it comes, her serious demeanor washes away, and she pulls me into her room and slams the door.

  “You. You’re already on my shit list, little lady,” she says as she points at me with squinted eyes.

  I hold up my hands in protest and laugh. “I was taken against my will. Kidna
pped, really.”

  “Yeah, Celia, you looked all broken up about it.” Audrey holds her expression of mock anger. “That’s one Lucas-inspired strike against you tonight, and believe me, I’m keeping score.”

  I cover my mouth to suppress a giggle, and I see the faintest hint of amusement in Audrey’s eyes. She tries to play tough, but she’s the biggest pushover when it comes to me.

  “And what happens if I strike out?” I taunt and cross my arms over my chest for effect.

  “Oh, you don’t want to know, missy!” she exclaims, chuckling despite herself.

  Audrey turns and flips her curtain of straight black hair over her shoulder. She picks up a leather skirt off the bed and tips her head in concentration. At first glance, I thought it was leather, but now I’m not so sure. Plastic? Rubber?

  “On to more important things,” she says, “Does this skirt say ‘come hither’ or ‘come visit me on my corner’?”

  I burst out laughing and rip the offensive garment from her grasp. “Corner, definitely!”

  “Hmmm, back to the drawing board,” she complains as she opens her closet door.

  Let the endless primping begin…

  After an eternity of heels, lip gloss, and liquid eyeliner, Audrey grabs her clutch off the dresser and gives me a once-over.

  “All good?” she asks, and I nod in agreement. “Let’s rock this bitch.”

  She turns the knob, and I touch her elbow to stop her forward movement.

  “Wait for me downstairs?” I ask. I see her hackles raising before my eyes. “I’ll only be a minute, Audrey. I just want to say goodbye, okay?”

  She groans and shakes her head. “Ugh, fine, but I’m timing your ass. He’s probably buried in numbers and equations, anyway. He won’t even hear you.”

  I smile in thanks as she places her clutch under her arm and bounds down the stairs. She’s not wrong. My Lucas tends to get lost in his work, but I admire that about him. Physics is way out of my realm of understanding, but it just clicks for him.