“I can’t believe you fucking shot me!” he yelled.
“Consider that your warning shot,” a deep voice said. “Make another move, and the next one goes in your chest.”
There was splashing, more yelling that was hard to hear over my own coughs. My chest throbbed with each breath, each gasp, and as I crawled toward the bank, I felt someone pull me to my feet.
Andre.
Another officer had Toph on the bank, cuffing his hands behind his back.
Andre lifted me off my feet before I could protest, then carried me to the house and sat me down on the porch.
“You came,” I said.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t?” he asked. “Hold on,” he said, rising.
He fetched a blanket from the trunk of his cruiser, then came back and wrapped it around my shoulders. His pants were wet from his knees down, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he said.
“That you needed to get here faster.” My voice came out as a stutter.
He muttered under his breath, raking his hands through his hair. “I should arrest you.”
“Is Lucille OK?”
“A bit shaken up, but she’ll be fine soon enough.”
He sat next to me, and I watched as another deputy dragged Toph across the yard toward the other police car. I remembered the officer inside the house and felt sick.
“Someone was inside,” I said, “I didn’t get to call.”
“He’ll be OK,” Andre said, cutting me off. “Looks like Toph surprised him and knocked him out cold. Could have been a lot worse.”
I scanned the yard, but there was no sign of Lucille. I wanted to see for myself that she was all right.
“Where’s Lucille?” I asked.
“She’s inside answering a few questions. Which is what you’ll need to do too since you ignored my suggestion and wound up right here in the middle of things.”
“I had to come. I couldn’t just do nothing again.”
“That was far too risky,” he said, “and you know it.”
I frowned, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Was that you who shot Toph?”
He hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
“How could you even tell us apart in the dark? What if you’d missed?”
“I don’t miss.”
“Some risks you have to take, you mean.”
He glared at me, but the line of his jaw softened. “We can talk about it later,” he said. “After the medics check you out.”
“Yeah, I remember the drill.”
He sighed. “This is not a protocol you should be so familiar with, Enza. I don’t like the pattern that’s developing here.”
“And you think I do?”
He looked at me the same way my father did right before he called me a smart-ass. But then he placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, the way an older brother would.
“Thank you,” I said. “It seems I’m in your debt again.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “You’ll never be in my debt.”
Sirens wailed, faint at first, and then grew louder as they turned toward the canal. Andre sat by my side until the ambulance parked, and the medics flung open the doors. It was only when they held the stethoscope to my chest that he finally walked back to his car and fished a spare set of boots from the trunk. He leaned against his cruiser as he stripped off his wet shoes and socks, eyeing the medics the whole time.
~~~~
When they at last determined I could go home, I said, “Andre, I have to see her before we go.”
He nodded and took me inside the house, his arm resting lightly on my back, as if he were ready to catch me. Lucille sat at the table we’d left set up in the kitchen, another officer by her side.
“Enza!” She rushed over and threw her arms around me, squeezing me so tightly it hurt. “You saved my life,” she said, her voice shaking. “And you almost—he almost—”
“It’s OK,” I said, interrupting her. “We’re all right.”
“Only because of you,” she said. “I’m so sorry. For everything. Sorry seems like a stupid thing to say, like it isn’t enough. It could never be enough.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said.
She sniffed. “Of course it is.” Her voice cracked. “He kept calling me, but I wouldn’t talk to him. Then he used Pop’s phone to call me today. He knew that was the only way I’d answer.” Her shoulders quaked, and she steadied herself. “He said he just wanted to talk, to fix things. I said no, and then he told me he was here. He said he’d burn this place to the ground if I didn’t meet him here to talk.”
I hugged her then, holding her tight until her trembling lessened. It made me ache to think she’d put herself in danger because she thought he’d wreck a house. “You should have told someone,” I said. “I wouldn’t care if we lost the house, but we couldn’t let him hurt you.”
Her voice was muffled against my shirt. “I thought I could just talk to him and end it. He was begging me to stay with him, and I was trying to tell him it wasn’t going to work. But the more I talked, the madder he got. He started smashing things in the house, and then I ran outside, and that’s when he—that’s when you found us.”
“It’s all right.” I could feel her heart pounding as she gripped me tight, like she didn’t want to let go. “You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”
The other officer stepped over to us. “Let’s get you home, Lucille.”
She pulled away from me and nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“We’ll talk more later,” I said, and she nodded again, pulling the blanket around her shoulders as she walked out with the officer.
Once she was gone, I surveyed the damage in the kitchen. Bits of plaster littered the floor. There were holes smashed in the walls, no doubt from the sledgehammer that had been tossed to the corner of the room. The kitchen island had a crater in its marble top, and a couple of the cabinet doors were splintered.
I cringed, looking at the sledgehammer, a dent in the floor where it lay.
“Let me drive you home,” Andre said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
“I’m fine to drive,” I said, not wanting to leave my car there. I didn’t want to come back to this house that soon.
“I’m taking you home,” Andre said. “A deputy will bring your car over.”
Before I could say anything more, he ushered me back outside and into the cruiser. I sat quietly in the front seat next to him, shivering as I felt the cold of the water wash over me again. It was a feeling that wouldn’t soon dissipate. There was the bite of the cold, the roaring in my ears as my head went under and my heart thrummed, and I couldn’t help but think of my mother and wonder if she’d felt the same sting of the cold, the same pressure when she went below the surface.
I didn’t want to think of her feeling panic and fear in her last moments.
Now, the silence was almost too much to stand. Andre sat still as a stone next to me, not speaking. He was still pissed at me—I could tell from the tense line of his shoulders, the way he avoided speaking all together. I’d have rather he fussed at me and chided me for my cavalier problem-solving methods, but he sat staring straight ahead in the darkness, occasionally glancing over when I shifted in my seat, or when my wet clothes squeaked against the upholstery.
At last I said, “Andre, can I ask you something?”
“You may.” His voice was flat, the way it was with the guys he put in handcuffs.
“If I was able to get a copy of the police report from when my mother was found, would you look at it for me?”
After a long pause, he said, “What would I be looking for?”
“I just want to know if her death was really an accident.”
Another long pause. A heavy breath.
“You might see more than I would see in it,” I said.
“You think your mother was the victim of foul play?” His voice was softer now.
“I think it’s all very strange,” I told him. “Vergie thought it might have been suicide.”
He knitted his brow, and he glanced at me before turning back to the road.
“Would you do that for me?” I was starting to shake again, but it was hard to say if it was from the cold or something else.
He braked hard and cursed as a brown blur streaked through the headlights. A second deer dashed across the road just a few yards ahead of us, its white tail flashing, impossibly bright in the darkness. Andre’s arm had shot out in front of me in that way that is a reflex for some drivers. He was slow to pick up speed again, no doubt searching for the doe’s companions that might be right behind her. He placed his hand back on the steering wheel, but still my heart hammered in my chest.
I thought that was the end of it, that he was pretending I hadn’t asked him and put him in an awkward position, but after a couple more miles he said, “I’ll take a look at it for you, but I’m not sure I can give you the answers you’re looking for.”
The flatness of his voice was gone, the bristle replaced by something like concern.
~~~~
When I got home, Kate’s car was gone. In its place was Jack’s truck. I felt sick. I didn’t want to see him right now, didn’t want to fight. I wanted to curl up in my bed and forget about the last few hours.
I turned to Andre, and he just shrugged.
“You might want to stay here a minute,” I said.
He knitted his brow.
“I may need to evict my tenant,” I said, pulling the blanket around me. I was still cold, soaked to the skin. Now the blanket was heavy with water too.
“What’s that now?”
“Jack didn’t tell you?”
Based on his expression, Jack obviously hadn’t talked to Andre about our fight, my leaving, and my kicking him out. I couldn’t believe that no one seemed to know—Lucille, Buck, Josie and Andre all acted like everything was perfectly normal. Aside from the Toph incident and my near drowning in the canal.
“Please,” I said. “I can’t deal with him on top of everything else.”
Andre stared past me toward the house.
“And where’s Kate?” I asked. “Did she stay over at Josie’s?” I fished around in my pockets for my phone, but then remembered I’d dropped it somewhere in the yard at the canal house. A shudder rippled over my skin as I remembered Toph tackling me, the phone flying from my hand. It still felt like some horrible nightmare. Not like something that had happened a couple of hours before.
“We’ll head over there before we go back to the station,” he said. “If she’s there I’ll have her call you on the land line.”
A set of headlights appeared behind us. Frankie, the deputy, was rumbling down the drive in my Jeep. He parked it under the oak tree near where we sat and climbed out.
“She probably didn’t want to sit here alone worrying about you,” Andre said. “I’m sure she’s still at Josie’s.”
I climbed out of the car as Frankie strode toward us. He nodded at me, and I said, “Wait just a few minutes, will you?”
Andre half smiled, shaking his head. “If you’re not back out here in five minutes, I’ll assume everything is fine.”
I shot him a look. “Thanks for the blanket. And for dragging me out of the water.”
“Any time.” He paused then, and his voice lowered. “But let’s do try to make this the last time, OK, darlin’? I prefer my friends stay out of peril.”
Friend. I bit my lip to hide a smile as he leveled a big-brother stare at me.
I slipped past Frankie and trudged to the porch, dreading what would happen inside.
~~~~
On my slow walk, I imagined the following scenarios:
Jack sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed, halfway through a beer and ready to scream at me for walking out and then scaring him to pieces, refusing to answer his phone calls.
Jack stomping through the house, collecting the last of his belongings, angry that it took him longer than expected, which led to my path crossing with his one last awkward time, then brushing past me as he threw his last pair of boots into a box under his arm, desperately avoiding any communication whatsoever.
Jack smashing my china with a sledgehammer, having moved on after splintering the bathroom tile, the banister rails, and everything else we’d repaired together, then leaving a few well-placed holes in the walls of the living room, where we had once pressed our bodies against wet buttercream-colored paint as we struggled to strip off our clothes and get as close as we possibly could.
None of those three possibilities seemed outrageous at this particular moment. My mind still swirled with fragments of images—some real, some imagined—and right now it was hard to separate the two.
I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob, listening for any indication of the breaking of things, even though I’d never known Jack to have such a tantrum. Hearing no noise, I turned the knob and stepped inside.
What I found was this: Jack sitting on the couch watching a late-night talk show, eating cereal out of a mixing bowl. When I walked into the living room, he paused, the spoon hovering by his lips. His eyebrow arched, and he dropped the spoon into the bowl.
“What on earth are you doing here?” I said.
He stood and closed the space between us in three giant strides. I stood rooted to the floor, bracing myself for whatever was about to happen. His arms wound around me and crushed me against his chest so hard that I gasped for breath. My chest ached. My arms were out to my sides, fixed there in Jack’s grip. I coughed, and he let me go, but only long enough to slide his hands up my arms, over my shoulders, across my cheeks.
“You’re soaked to the bone,” he said. “You’ll have pneumonia.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Come on.” He pulled me toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you in some dry clothes.”
“I need a shower first. I’m covered in swamp.”
He tossed the blanket into the chair and pulled one of his warmest winter shirts from the closet. When he turned back to me, he slipped my soggy shirt over my head. I opened my mouth to protest, but he gently put my arms through the sleeves of his chambray shirt and buttoned it. He unfastened my jeans and tugged them to my ankles, kneeling as he pulled them over my feet. I held onto his shoulder, stepping out of them.
“Wait,” I said. “Tell me why you’re here.”
He looked at me blankly. “Where did you expect me to be? Josie told me what happened. Andre’s damned deputy stopped me half a mile from the canal house and told me he’d lock me up if I didn’t turn around. I almost tried to get past him anyway, but he said they’d bring you here. So I came back.”
He pulled me into the bathroom and started to run a bath. Then he stood staring at me, holding my face in his hands. Still I shivered, mostly from the cold.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the house to see you.” He grabbed me again, folding me in his arms. His hands were warm against my back, and I started to relax. His lips moved against my ear as he said, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“But why are you here at all? I thought you’d be long gone after Kate and I left.”
He pulled away from me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Why would you think that?”
“I told you to leave. I said I wanted you gone.” My throat tightened around the words. “I thought after what happened with Lucille—”
He furrowed his brow. “You thought I’d just take off and never come back?”
I did. It was the way most people left me.
My mouth opened, but no words came out.
“We had a fight, cher. It happens. That doesn’t mean we’re finished.” He paused, his voice softening. “Unless you want us to be finished. Is that what you want?”
“No,” I said. “But after what you said that night, I thought you were leaving me.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry I got so angry at you. I know you were ju
st doing what you thought was right.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but he placed his fingers on my lips.
“You were being a good friend to Lucy,” he said. “I can appreciate that. I understand why you thought you couldn’t tell me.” He stroked my hair and leaned his chin against my forehead. “But tonight,” he said. “I nearly lost it when they told me what you’d done. You can’t do that kind of stuff, cher.”
“The police were taking too long,” I said.
He squeezed me tighter. “I couldn’t bear it if something had happened to you because of Lucy.”
“It wouldn’t have been her fault,” I said. “And I couldn’t sit around and wait for whatever was going to happen to happen. She’s your family.”
He pried himself off me, his hands squeezing my shoulders. He fixed his eyes on mine and said, “You’re my family, cher. Don’t you see that?”
I tightened my arms around his waist. “I needed to hear you say it.”
He sat me down on the edge of the tub and took my hands in his. “I don’t want us to fight like that again. I don’t want us to walk out on each other angry.”
I nodded. “I don’t want us to have secrets from each other either.”
“Agreed,” he said.
“I’m sorry I ignored your calls.”
He smiled. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I knew I’d made a mistake the second you and Kate went down the driveway.”
“I’m glad you stayed.”
“I’ll always stay,” he said.
“Promise?”
“As long as you want me to.”
I peeled his shirt off me and stepped into the tub, easing my body into the steaming water.
“You coming in?” I asked him.
He leaned over and kissed me, his hand warming my cheek. “Wash the swamp off, and I’ll be waiting for you.”
I splashed him, and he smiled, then kissed me on the forehead.
When I finally got out of the bath, I climbed into bed, where Jack lay reading a book about home repairs. He laid the book on the table and pulled me against him, under the warmth of the covers. With his arms folded over my chest, he held me until all of the cold left my body, and I drifted into sleep.
Bayou, Whispers from the Past: A Novel Page 23
