by Dawn Atkins
“I was greedy,” Beth Ann choked out, tears streaking her cheeks. “I wanted ice cream. It was my fault. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “Of course you wanted ice cream. Your father tricked you because he knew that. It was not you. Never you.”
Her daughter searched her face, her blue eyes swimming in tears. “Do you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
Beth Ann burst into tears and threw her arms around Cara’s neck, nearly knocking her over.
Cara squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling down her own face. She had her daughter back to comfort and care for. “We’ll get past this, Beth Ann. We will. We’ll talk about it until it makes sense and then we’ll talk some more. Okay?” She leaned back to look at her daughter.
“I let Daddy find us. I lied about Serena. I didn’t warn you that he was here.”
“It’s okay. I asked a lot of you, taking you away from your friend and making you keep so many secrets. You made some mistakes, sure, but so did I.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. And I’m so proud of you for standing up to him. You were brave and confident.”
“You were, too.”
“I was. I’m proud of us both.”
“Did Grandma Price get tricked, too?”
“She did.” Cara wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive her mother for her part in this, but she was Beth Ann’s grandmother, so Cara would keep that to herself.
“Ms. Price?”
She nodded at Deputy Collins, then spoke to Beth Ann. “The police need to talk to us for a bit. Can you answer some questions?”
Beth Ann nodded. She seemed much calmer now.
“After that, we’ll go see Jonah in the hospital.”
“Then what will we do? We don’t have to move to Phoenix now, right?”
“No, we don’t. We can live where we want.” Barrett would be in prison for a very long time. She studied her daughter. “What do you think about staying with Rosie for a while longer? Maybe even go to school in New Hope.”
“Can Serena visit?”
“She can stay the rest of the summer if she wants. I’ll pay for her ticket.”
“That’s great.” Beth Ann sighed. “I can be Beth Ann again?”
“Absolutely.”
“Bunny was a dumb name.” She blew out a breath.
“Tell the police everything, Beth Ann. No more secrets.”
Her daughter nodded and Cara knew that she could finally do what she’d sworn to do three years ago—help her daughter heal.
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Cara and Beth Ann met Rosie and Evan in the hospital reception area, then rode the elevator to Jonah’s room.
He was propped up in bed, his shoulder bandaged, his arm in a sling, but he looked so good to her she wanted to throw her arms around him and cover him with kisses.
Beth Ann ran to Jonah and started to hug him.
He held up a fist. “Fist bump for now, Squirt. Until my ribs heal.”
Beth Ann gave him a careful tap.
“So cancer wasn’t hair-raising enough, you had to go get yourself shot?” Rosie said, her voice husky.
“What can I say?” Jonah said. “That’s how I roll.” He smiled crookedly. The morphine must be affecting him.
“You saved my life,” Cara said.
“I backed your play. You saved yourself.” His eyes shone with love.
That was what he’d done, she realized. He’d let her take the lead when Barrett kidnapped them. He hadn’t tried to take over. Cara stood on her own two feet, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t accept a supportive hand at her back.
“Which reminds me…grab my jeans out of that bag, would you, Squirt?” Jonah said. “In the pocket’s something that belongs to your mom.”
Beth Ann did what he asked, holding out the carved bear.
Cara took it. “I missed this,” she said, looking at him. “I missed you.”
“Me, too,” Jonah said.
“Jeez, it’s getting goopy in here,” Rosie said. “You hungry, Bunny? Let’s hit the cafeteria.”
“Call me Beth Ann,” she said solemnly. “And can I have ice cream?”
“Absolutely,” Rosie said. Cara’s heart was full to bursting.
When they were alone, she moved closer to Jonah, who gave her a goofy smile. “They give you something for the pain?”
“Oh, yeah. You might have to remind me what we said afterward.”
“Don’t you dare say you let down the people you love. You took a bullet for us. Literally. I’d say that’s taking guardian of my world too far. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d been killed.”
“Better me than either of you,” he said and she knew he meant it.
Careful not to bump any injured part, she leaned down to kiss him, breathing him in, welcoming the familiar rush of desire. She never wanted to lose it. Or this man.
When they broke apart, Jonah said, “When I was chasing after you, afraid that maniac might hurt you, I realized I couldn’t live without you, Cara. Wherever you move, I’ll be there. I’ll hook up that Airstream and drive it all the way to Canada if that’s what it takes for you to feel safe.”
“I’m not running anymore. I know you plan to move to New York, but—”
“I can work wherever I want. Wherever you are, Cara, that’s home to me. You and Beth Ann.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’d like to see Rosie through her treatments and Beth Ann through a school year. After that, how about we figure out a life that works for all of us?” Maybe she’d apply for a loan to sell her good-luck buns. Maybe they would move to Tucson so she could finish her teaching degree. Maybe they would go to New York. She was free. She could make any choice she wanted.
“Sounds good.” He grinned crookedly. “Really good.”
“Morphine makes you less grouchy, for sure.”
“That’s all you, Cara. You woke me up, turned on all the lights. It’s like what Rosie said to you about Eddie, that he loved her like she was worth it and after a while she felt like she was. You do that for me.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work, I think.”
“You make me want to be a better man, Cara. You make me think I can be.” His eyes shone at her, full of compassion and respect and love.
“You do the same for me. I stood up to Barrett. You helped me see I was strong and smart and—”
“Relentless. Don’t forget relentless.”
“Apparently, you won’t let me.” They grinned at each other, teasing again like every day in the café.
“Barrett’s out of my head,” Cara said. “He’s gone. So is the girl I was with him. You’re all I see, Jonah. All I want to see. And I know who I am and what I want.”
“That’s good. As long as I’m on the list of what you want.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right up there with fresh-squeezed lemonade.”
He laughed. “Ow.” He grabbed his side. “No more jokes for a while.”
“You know how that reporter kept calling us the New Hope Café? From the minute I walked through the café door, that’s how I’ve felt about it.”
“Maybe we should change the name. Rosie’s pretty hopeful herself these days.”
“You’ll have to make a new sign.”
Jonah groaned. “Here we go again.” His eyes searched hers. “I’ll likely screw up, you know—raise my voice, say the wron
g thing, let you down—but if you’ll stick with me, give me a chance, I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll do my damnedest to be the man you need me to be.”
“You already are.” Cara leaned down for another breath-stopping kiss.
“Mmm,” Jonah said in a sexy growl. “How long do you figure we have till they get back from the cafeteria?”
“Are you crazy? You’re injured.”
“No problem if you stay on top. If I recall, you do like to steer.” He gave her a slow smile.
“You’re terrible,” she said with a giddy laugh.
“Those candy hearts clumped for a reason, I guess,” Jonah said. “Right now, I feel pretty lucky.”
“You should. We got double hearts, you know.” What charm could she make that would mean you will live happily ever after?
Maybe they didn’t need a charm. Maybe they would just make it happen.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of The Road to Bayou Bridge by Liz Talley!
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CHAPTER ONE
August 2012
Naval Station, Rota, Spain
THE PAPER ACTUALLY SHOOK in Darby Dufrene’s hand—that’s how shocked he was by the document he’d discovered in a box of old papers. He’d been looking for the grief book he’d made as a small child and instead had found something that made his gut lurch against his ribs.
“Dude, come on. The driver needs to go.” Hal Severson’s voice echoed in the half-full moving truck parked below the flat Darby had shared with the rotund navy chaplain for the past several years. His roommate had waited semi-good-naturedly while Darby climbed inside to grab the book before it was shipped to Seattle, but good humor had limits.
“Just a sec,” Darby called, his eyes refusing to leave the elaborate font of the certificate he’d pulled from a clasped envelope trapped in the back of his Bayou Bridge Reveille yearbook. How in the hell had this escaped his attention? Albeit it had been buried in with some old school papers he’d tossed aside over ten years ago and vowed never to look at again, surely the state of Louisiana seal would have permeated his brain and screamed, Open me!
Yet, back then he’d been in a funk—a childish, rebellious huff of craptastic proportions. He probably hadn’t thought about much else except the pity party he’d been throwing himself.
The moving truck’s engine fired and a loud roar rumbled through the trailer, vibrating the wood floor. The driver was eager to pick up the rest of his load, presumably a navy family heading back to the States, and his patience with Darby climbing up and digging through boxes already packed was also at an end. Darby slid the certificate back into its manila envelope, tucked it into his jacket and emerged from the back end of the truck.
Hal’s red hair glinted in the sunlight spilling over the tiled roof, and his expression had evoled to exasperation. The man was hungry. Had been hungry for hours while the movers slowly packed up Darby’s personal effects and scant pieces of furniture, and no one stood between Hal and his last chance to dine in El Puerto de Santa Maria, the city near the Rota Naval Base, with his best comrade. “Let’s go already. Saucy Terese and her crustacean friends await us.”
“Not Il Caffe di Roma, Hal. I don’t want to look into that woman’s eyes and wonder if she might greet me with a filet knife.”
“You ain’t that good, brother,” Hal said in a slow Oklahoma drawl. “She’ll find someone else on which to ply her wiles when the new guy arrives.”
“You mean the new guy whose name is Angela Dillard?”
“The new JAG officer’s a girl?”
Darby smiled. “Actually she’s a woman.”
Hal jingled his keys. “Entendido.”
“Your Spanish sucks.”
“Whatever. Now get your butt in gear. There are some crabs and sherry with my name on them.”
Darby tried to ignore the heat of the document pressing against his chest. Of course, it wasn’t actually hot. Just burning a hole in his stomach with horrible dread. He was an attorney and the document he carried wasn’t a prank, but he couldn’t figure out how the license had been filed. His father had virtually screamed the implausibility at him nearly eleven years ago—the day he’d shipped Darby off to Virginia—so this didn’t make sense. “Fine, but if Terese comes toward me with a blade, you must sacrifice yourself. If not, Picou will ply the sacrificial purifications of the Chickamauga on you. She’s been waiting for five years to get me back home to Beau Soleil.”
Hal rubbed his belly. “Did they perform human sacrifices?”
“Who? The Native Americans or Picou?”
“Either.”
Darby grinned. “I don’t know about the Chickamauga, but my mom will go psycho if I don’t climb off that plane.”
“Consider it done. No way I’m left to deal with your mother. She makes mine look like that woman from Leave It to Beaver.”
“Your mom is June Cleaver all the way down to the apron and heels.” Darby knew firsthand. Her weekly chocolate chips cookies had caused him to pack on a few pounds.
“I know. All women pale in comparison.” Hal opened the door of his white convertible BMW, his one prideful sin, and slid in. He perched a pair of Ray-Bans on his nose and fired the engine.
“Except our housekeeper, Lucille. Can’t wait to get my hands on her pecan pie.” Darby took one last look at his beachfront flat before sliding onto the hot leather seats of Hal’s car. He’d already shipped his motorcycle to the States weeks ago. He wanted it available when he got to Seattle and went in search of apartments, though he knew he’d likely have to sell it in favor of a respectable sedan. With all that Northwest rain, he’d have little chance to take as many mind-clearing drives as he had along the coast of Spain. Plus, Shelby hated it.
“Well, say goodbye, dude,” Hal said, sweeping one arm over the sunbaked villa where Darby had spent the past two years, before pulling away and heading toward the motorway that would take them into the city.
“Goodbye, dude,” Darby said, parroting his friend. He smiled as the wind hit his cheeks, but as soon as he remembered the document, his smile slipped away. Trouble brewed and this homecoming would be no cakewalk despite the pecan pie that waited.
“Are you sad? Thought you’d been ready to leave Rota since you got here, Louisiana boy.”
How could Darby tell him his mood wasn’t about leaving the base and his small adventure in Spain but about the marriage license he’d found in his high school trunk? He could, but there was no sense in ruining his last night with the man who’d become like a brother to him over the course of his deployment. With Hal being the base chaplain, most would think him an odd choice of roommate for a formerly degenerate bayou boy, but something about Hal clicked as soon as Darby met the man who’d been looking for a flatmate. Having Hal as a friend, guide and trusted mentor had made the move overseas tolerable. In fact, after a few months, Darby had downright enjoyed himself.
And he’d found Shelby through Hal.
And when he met the blonde teacher who taught at the American school on base, he knew he’d finally grown up, finally left
his confusion and his past behind. Here was what he’d been looking for—a beautiful woman, a promising career, if the interview went well, and a clean slate in a new place—so he’d flung the dice and shipped his things to Seattle rather than home to Bayou Bridge.
He patted the inside pocket of his jacket.
But maybe he wouldn’t be moving forward as soon as he’d planned.
Because he was fairly certain he was legally married to Renny Latioles.
* * *
RENNY LATIOLES ADJUSTED her reading glasses and stared at the computer screen. How did L9-10 get so far away from the Black Lake Reservoir? And even more disturbing, why was the damn crane on Beau Soleil property?
“She still there?” fellow biologist Carrie Dupuy asked, mindlessly sipping the bitter coffee that had been sitting in the urn all day long. Coffee stayed brewing at the Black Lake station where they worked side by side on the reintroduction of the whooping crane into South Louisiana.
“Yeah, and I don’t get it. It’s over sixty miles from the habitat you’d think she would prefer. No other crane has gone that far to the north. There isn’t a lot of marsh in that parish even with the wetlands receding.”
“It’s been well over a week, Ren. Maybe you better head up and get a visual. Make sure she’s not tangled up in something.”
“But the bird is moving around in a fairly large perimeter. If you look at this satellite map, you can see the field it’s inhabiting.” Renny dragged a finger across the screen. “Look. Woodlands, bayou and one abandoned rice field.”
Carrie frowned at the computer. “I agree. It doesn’t make sense, but obviously L9-10 has found a little slice of heaven in St. Martin Parish. Maybe this is a good thing, this adapting and surviving in an atypical area, but we need to check this out in person, and since you live up that way...”
Renny pushed back from the screen, rolling toward the filing cabinet sitting a few yards away. She grabbed a fresh logbook.
“Why not just take your computer?”
