Bayou, Whispers from the Past: A Novel

by Lauren Faulkenberry

  I laughed. “But I’m right here.”

  “Come away with me,” he said. “Let’s spend the night somewhere else.”

  “It’s only a few more days until we have the house to ourselves again.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I feel like I have to be on my best behavior with your friend here and with my family coming in and out all the time. I feel like a teenager trying to kiss you behind the bleachers. Let’s take off tomorrow. We can spend the night in a bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere.”

  It sounded crazy, but it was sort of romantic. I liked the idea of getting away for a little while, even twenty-four hours.

  He slid his hand beneath the water, tracing the curve of my thigh. A shiver ran along my skin. He leaned over, bracing one arm on the tub, and kissed me like he wanted to climb right into the tub with me. I ran my fingers through his hair, wondering if maybe he might, and then stopped when a ringing filled the air.

  He pulled back. “Is that your phone?”

  “It’s on the counter,” I said. “I keep it close because of Buck.”

  He plucked the phone from the counter. “I think it’s your dad.”

  I looked at the screen and sighed.

  “You want it?” He held the phone out to me.

  “No.”

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  He silenced the ringer and placed the phone back on the counter.

  “See?” he said. “One more reason to escape for a day.” He knelt beside the tub again, sliding his fingers along my arm.

  “Why don’t you get in here with me,” I suggested. I shifted my knee and sloshed a little wave of water over the edge of the tub. It splashed onto his jeans. “Oops.”

  He grinned, his eyes darker in the dim light. “I’d love to,” he said, “but Kate’s in the kitchen, and I don’t think I could keep quiet. And I know you couldn’t.”

  I splashed him again, and he caught my hand and brought it to his lips. He traced his tongue along my fingers, giving them a tiny pinch with his teeth.

  “Tell me more about this escape plan,” I said, imagining where we might stay and exactly what we might do. I could tell he was already planning wicked things to do to me, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with him so he could tick every one of those ideas off his list. Slowly.

  “What if I said I wanted to surprise you?” he said, his lips moving along my knuckles.

  “OK, then. Surprise me.”

  He leaned down to kiss me, catching my lip in his teeth. “OK, then, cher,” he whispered. “It’s a date. I’ll arrange everything. We can leave after breakfast.”

  He kissed me harder as I tugged at the buttons of his shirt. His hands slipped beneath the water, squeezing my hips, and all I wanted was to feel his hands slide over every inch of me. When I was halfway to his belt, he stood abruptly and flashed his crooked grin.

  “Hey,” I said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I have a few things to plan. And your water’s going to get cold.”

  “Maybe you need to get in and warm me up.”

  He opened the door to leave and turned back. “Tomorrow. Maybe you need to make a list of demands.”

  “Maybe I will,” I said, and turned back to my book. I heard him laughing as he shut the door.

  ~~~~

  When I climbed into bed later, I checked my phone and saw a voice message from my father. I stared at the screen as I considered my options. Finally, I pressed play, then stopped it before his voice started. At last I deleted the message without listening and curled myself against Jack, lulled by the slow thumping of his heart, a sound as predictable and soothing as falling rain.

  Chapter 10

  The bed and breakfast, to my surprise, had one room left. Most places were likely booked the whole week of Christmas, but Jack had found a nice remote place that had one night open.

  “See,” he said. “The whole state of Louisiana wanted you to take a day off.”

  “Well, this parish anyway.”

  We were only thirty miles from Bayou Sabine, but it felt like we were days away. Jack had taken back roads, on purpose I thought, to make me feel like we were farther away from the parts of our life we wanted to escape. Here in the delta country southwest of New Orleans, the land felt almost primordial, like it had just emerged from the Gulf through a violent act of nature. Verdant and lush, the trees wavered in the ocean breeze. The air was salty, filled with the twittering of birds hidden in the brush. There was something eerie about being right at sea level, knowing you could dig a hole with your boot heel and watch as ocean water filled the void. The breeze lifted my hair, and I had a flash of memory from a college architecture course, a professor who droned on about Grecian temples at Delphi, the navel of the world. Delphi was where the oracle lived, at the center of Zeus’ “Grandmother Earth.” It was a sanctuary, where you went to find wisdom and peace. Standing in the spongy soil, it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine this delta as that same hallowed ground, the point tying us to whatever force had pushed this land up from the crust of the earth.

  Out here, you could drive for five full minutes without seeing a house. The bayou was bigger, wilder, with taller grasses and louder birds. Cypress roots tangled like the tentacles of giant sea creatures, tumbling over each other in the dark water.

  The inn was an old plantation house with a wraparound porch and wood shutters. Hundred-year-old oak trees lined the path to the front of the house, one of them braced with a system of two-by-fours meant to stop the tree from splitting under the weight of its limbs. Jack and I lazed outside most of the day, wandering the grounds and lounging by the pool. It was too chilly to swim, but sunny enough to lie outside and pretend it wasn’t winter.

  Jack laughed as he caught me scribbling notes and taking close-up photos of the woodwork.

  “What?”

  “You said you’d turn your work brain off today.”

  I frowned. “I can’t help it. Look at that hand-carved molding.”

  “I know.” He exaggerated his wistful tone.

  I punched him gently on the arm. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

  He laced his fingers in mine. “You know, it’s not too late to cancel dinner. Everyone will understand.”

  “No way.”

  “They wouldn’t be disappointed.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  He brushed a lock of hair from my eyes, and I knew he didn’t quite believe that last part. But I figured it would be hard to have a melancholy day with a house full of people. I needed to have everybody over, to hear laughter and joy.

  ~~~~

  The inn’s owner had told us she served a candlelight dinner in the formal dining room. I said a silent thank you to the part of my brain that insisted I bring something nice to wear and take this rare opportunity to dress like a woman—and not look out of place doing so.

  “I’m going to hop in the shower before dinner,” I said.

  Jack folded down the corner of the newspaper he was reading. “Would you like some company?”

  I grinned, thinking that over for what felt like a full minute. “That would make us very late to dinner.”

  “You’re probably right.” He pretended to turn back to the paper as I slipped out of my clothes. “Raincheck.”

  “We can revisit that thought later.” I tousled his hair as I stepped into the bathroom.

  When I emerged, wrapped in a towel, Jack kissed me quickly on the cheek. “My turn.”

  “It’s almost seven.”

  “I’ll be fast.” The water was already running.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs, OK?”

  “Sure,” he called out, and I heard his belt buckle clatter against the floor.

  I unzipped my suitcase and pulled out the purple halter-top dress I’d bought with Kate back in the spring. She’d insisted I buy it, though it cost more than I ever spent on clothes. I didn’t ev
en spend that kind of money on my favorite cowboy boots. But Kate had said I’d soon have a reason to wear this “va-voom” dress as she called it, so I figured this was that special occasion. I owed Jack a surprise or two of my own.

  I slipped the dress on and zipped the side zipper, then leaned over and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to encourage more bounce into it. I thought briefly of those commercials I’d seen as a teenager, as women bent their heads and tried to fluff their hair up after work before a night out, as they stepped off the subway, or in the ladies’ room on a date. I hadn’t had many occasions to do such a thing, and it made me laugh doing it then.

  I quickly put on some mascara and lipstick, and stepped into my heels as I heard the shower turn off. After a couple more fluffs and squeezes, I slipped out the door and went downstairs, trying to remember how to walk gracefully in shoes that were not cowboy boots.

  The dining room was like something out of a movie. The owner, a petite woman who looked about fifty, had her blond hair up in a bun. Margie was her name, and she’d informed us earlier that the house had been in her family for five generations. Her mother had turned it into an inn, and Margie had taken over a dozen years before. She smiled as I sat down at a table set for two in the back of the dining room by the windows. From there, I’d see Jack when he entered the room.

  Margie came by and filled two water glasses. “That’s a great color for you,” she said. “Would you two care for wine this evening?”

  “Thanks—and yes, we’d love some.”

  She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. The room buzzed with the chatter of the other guests, mostly couples.

  After a while, a movement in the hallway caught my eye. When I looked up, I saw Jack paused in the doorway. When his eyes met mine and he walked toward me with his slow swagger, I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over my face.

  He was wearing the gray suit. The one he’d had on when I first saw him, when I’d had no idea how he was about to transform my life. He’d joked about wearing that suit again, after he’d learned how I’d admired the way it clung to my favorite parts of him. It was just snug enough in the shoulders and the hips for me to notice those parts now and think fondly of what I’d do with them later.

  “Well, hi there,” he said, pausing by the chair. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Nice suit.”

  He sat across from me. “Nice dress. I haven’t seen that one before.” His eyes drifted over the lines of the halter top.

  “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

  “Is that right?” He grinned his wolfish grin, and I felt myself blush.

  “Why, Miss Parker. You’re blushing.”

  “Just thinking of you, Mr. Mayronne, and the cut of that lovely suit.”

  Before I could say more, Margie was back with a bottle of red and two glasses. “I knew he wouldn’t be too long,” she said with a wink. “Good evening, Mr. Mayronne.”

  “Good evening,” he said, and I fought back a chuckle, thinking of the times I’d called him by his full name, back before we’d become so delightfully entangled.

  “I told you I’d find an occasion to wear it again,” he said, clinking his glass against mine. “If for no other reason than to let you separate me from it one button at a time.”

  He slid his knee against mine under the table, and I felt the warmth spread through my entire body. Part of me wanted to march right back up to that room and skip dinner altogether.

  “You’re staring,” I said.

  “I’m admiring. That’s not at all the same thing.” He smiled and sipped his wine. When he set the glass down, he looked serious. The color of the suit made his eyes look a deeper shade of blue.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  “I’m just awfully glad you wandered up onto my porch that hot and muggy day.”

  “That was my porch.” I took a sip of wine to hide my smile.

  “Details.” He slid his hand over mine. “I never expected someone like you to wander into my life. I just wanted to make sure you knew how happy I am that you stayed.”

  “I’m glad I stayed—and I’m glad you were too stubborn to leave.”

  “And people talk like stubbornness is a bad quality.”

  Margie came over and set two plates in front of us. “Lamb chops with mango salsa,” she said. “Fresh greens and roasted potatoes. Enjoy.”

  There was a little tower of lamb and vegetables on each plate, sauces drizzled across the white of the dish.

  “Best inn ever,” I said, and Jack grinned.

  “Glad you like it.”

  “I love it. Thanks for taking me out for the day.”

  “My pleasure.”

  We ate in silence for long enough that it started to make me nervous. I knew Jack had something on his mind, but I couldn’t figure out why he was being so secretive about it. He usually had no problem telling me what was bothering him. It wasn’t until Margie cleared our plates away that I spoke.

  “What’s going on with you?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You seem distracted.”

  He sighed, laying his napkin on the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

  “Maybe it was you who needed to get away for a day.” I was only half-joking, but he gave me a sweet smile that said I wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Margie reappeared with two crème brûlées in tiny saucers.

  “Jack.”

  He looked nervous. “I need to ask you something.”

  Margie slid two flutes of champagne in front of us without asking.

  “Thank you,” Jack said to her, and every part of my body seemed to go numb. I glanced around the room, trying to determine just how big of a scene this was going to be. My throat tightened, and I hoped I’d be able to choke out a few words without sounding like a fool, without crushing him into pieces. The room spun like a carousel, and I took a deep breath. I was not ready for this. I didn’t like big scenes, surprise proposals in front of strangers. I didn’t like to be the center of attention, and he knew all of these things.

  His eyes leveled on mine.

  I thought of bolting, running to the restroom to give him some hint that I wasn’t ready, to spare him hurt feelings, but I felt cemented to the chair.

  “I didn’t want to do this here,” he said, shaking his head. “This was supposed to be just about you and me.”

  I swallowed a mouthful of champagne with a complete lack of grace and glanced toward the doorway again.

  “But I can’t shake this thought,” he said. “I can’t think about anything else, no matter how hard I try.”

  I took another swig from my glass and willed my body to stop shaking. I loved him. What we had was exactly what I needed. I didn’t want to hurt him. Not here, not tonight. Not ever.

  He leaned forward. “Did Lucille say anything to you about Toph?”

  “What?” I said.

  “I know she’s not telling me everything. I know something messed up is going on.”

  As I looked at him, I willed my heart to get back into its normal rhythm. “That’s what you wanted to ask me?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to take you away and have you all to myself and make some time for just us.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “I’m worried about her,” he said. “I didn’t want to ruin our night. I just can’t get it off my mind. I have a seriously bad feeling about that guy.” He reached across the table and took my hand, his fingers sliding over my palm.

  I let out a heavy sigh, heavier than I’d intended. He gave me a quizzical look.

  It wasn’t my place to tell Lucille’s secrets. I knew that. But I also knew that Jack thought of her as his sister, and he was fiercely protective.

  “She didn’t tell me much,” I said. “Just that he was a jerk to people sometimes, but not to her.”

  Jack watched me as I picked at the crème brûlée.


  “She’s a smart girl,” I said. “She won’t take any shit from him.” That was mostly true, I suspected.

  He watched me carefully. “I’m not sure I believe that entirely.”

  “We all date one jackass. I’m sure she’ll come to her senses soon enough.”

  He took a sip of the champagne and eased back in his chair. “Something’s not right with him. There’s something going on that she’s not saying.”

  “You can’t make yourself sick over it. It’s her decision. You have to trust her to figure it out.”

  He said nothing, but I knew he was thinking of my bad decision. The one that had put me in the path of a dangerous man. He wouldn’t say that to me directly because he was too kind. But I knew what he was thinking. I was thinking it myself.

  Lucille might not be able to escape like I had.

  ~~~~

  Late that night, when all the other guests were likely asleep, Jack and I sat on the wraparound porch under a string of white lights that blinked like fireflies. The empty champagne bottle sat on the floor between us.

  “I think there’s a maze out back,” he said. “Want to come and get lost with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He took my hand and led me through the backyard, past the oaks with their curling limbs. The moon was high, full as a plate. I followed Jack, my heels wobbling in the soft earth. When I paused to slip them off, I leaned against his shoulder and felt his hand against the small of my back. He kissed me quick, right below my earlobe, and then led me into the maze.

  The air was beginning to cool but was still oddly warm for December. The farther we went into the maze, the warmer it felt, as if the walls had blocked the chill. The walls were boxwoods, nearly eight feet tall and dense from years of growth. They were manicured to look like real walls, with only a few rogue sprouts breaking the smoothness of the surface. I dragged my free hand along the stubbly leaves as Jack led me toward the center, winding to the left, then the right, as if he knew exactly where we were headed. The leaves were stiff and waxy, not soft as I’d imagined they’d feel beneath my fingers.

  He steered us into a narrower corridor, then turned to me. “I don’t want us to keep things from each other. I don’t like secrets.”