Sweeter Savage Love

by Sandra Hill

He squeezed tighter and moved his fingers higher. “You don’t tell a man that you…what you said…then turn cold again. Uh-uh. Those words give a man rights.”

  He didn’t have to say the words for her to know what he meant. Her face blazed even hotter.

  “And what do you mean by ‘I love you, stupid’? What kind of declaration is that?”

  “It’s the truth. You are stupid, stupid. And I lied about the other part.” Then she gasped, “Ooooh!” His clever fingers had entered new territory. She tried discreetly to shove them away but he leaned close to whisper in her ear, thus dividing her attention between two equally sensitive zones.

  “I want you,” he breathed into her ear. “Desperately.”

  Oh, he is good. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. An image of her mother crying flitted through her mind. Thank you, God! When she opened her eyes, three sets of eyes stared at her; actually, it was probably four sets, but she wasn’t about to look at the rogue with the magic fingers.

  “Wh-what?” she stammered, realizing that someone must have asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

  “I asked you what’s wrong?” Cain said, a grin twitching at his lips. “You look like you’re in pain.”

  “What I want to know is, where is Etienne’s hand?” Abel asked.

  Etienne’s hand whisked upward, holding a linen cloth. “Just retrieving my napkin,” he said, smiling broadly.

  Yep, the man did have clever hands, and a clever tongue. In fact, he had lots of clever body parts. Too bad he’d never get to use them on her now.

  Everyone laughed, except Saralee, who didn’t understand.

  Verbena, a middle-aged black woman, was helping Blossom in the kitchen tonight. She waddled over now to hand Blossom the platter of ham and red-eye gravy, made from pan drippings and leftover coffee. Harriet had watched Saralee prepare much of the meal earlier, under Blossom’s direction. They’d worked over a potager, a tile counter with built in “stew holes” heated by charcoal burners—a forerunner of stove-top ranges. On the sideboard had already been placed small Irish potatoes and fresh vegetables, not to mention warm bread and sweet butter. A glass of lemonade or coffee was at each setting.

  Each person passed an empty plate to Blossom, who stood serving at the end of the table. When it came Etienne’s turn, she gave him a pitifully small slice of meat, even smaller than Saralee’s portion. He just raised an amused brow.

  When it was Harriet’s turn, Blossom pierced her with a withering appraisal. “I thought you was gonna help me turn this scamp around? He’s still actin’ scampy, far as I kin see.”

  “Huh?” Etienne glowered alternately at Blossom and her.

  Scampy? Yep, that about says it. But did Blossom have to announce their stupid plans to everyone?

  Saralee continued to blink with confusion.

  Cain and Abel slapped their knees and went into hysterics.

  “What you two cacklin’ about?” Blossom said as she poured out more beverages. “I declare, you two was born tired and raised lazy. When you boys gonna give me some babies to play with? Ain’t it time you stopped plowin’ every field in the parish and married up with a nice, decent wife?” Her eyes shifted craftily. “Did I tell you ’bout the new schoolmistress, Miz Ellen?”

  Cain and Abel rolled their eyes at each other.

  “She come from California to visit her auntie Verbena. She be book-smart, too. Thass why she set up the school.”

  Etienne smiled, relieved that he was no longer the object of Blossom’s attention. Then his brow creased with a frown. He was probably remembering his earlier question about who’d given permission to start up a school on his lands.

  “Doan you be givin’ me that ‘I-am-the-master’ eye, Mistuh Baptiste. Iffen you neglect yo’ duties, others got to take up the slack. By the by, Ellen be needin’ money for the school. Ain’t nearly enough books and papers fer thirty young’uns.”

  “Thirty?” he choked out.

  “She couldn’t hardly turn away those other chilluns from down the bayou what needs book-learnin’, too. Now could she?”

  Cain and Abel gave each other congratulatory grins now that the ball of Blossom’s sharp tongue had bounced to another court.

  And Saralee’s puzzled frown deepened.

  “Yessirree, Miz Ellen be in Houma today…”

  And the ball was back in the black men’s laps. Abel’s eyes crossed and Cain looked as if he’d swallowed a whole lemon, not a sip of lemonade.

  “…but she be back tomorrow. You boys stay put and ol’ Blossom gonna find you a lady for a wife, not one of them fanfoots with big bosoms and city ways.”

  “What’s wrong with big bosoms?” Cain asked innocently as he wiped his plate clean with a second slice of bread.

  “I like the city,” Abel added. “So don’t be pushin’ any country maid in my face. Besides, I got my standards.”

  Blossom harrumphed and focused her attention on Cain. “And what you mean by neglectin’ all these sick people hereabouts? Lordy, we gots ailin’ black folks comin’ here from every plantation in the lowlands lookin’ for the swamp doctor. You gots responsibilities, boy.”

  Abel put his face in his hands, sensing he was next.

  “And Abel…Lord-a-mercy!…you still playin’ that low-down devil music? I never did hear of a grown man what wanted to devote his life to such lust-provokin’ trash.”

  “Can I have another helping, Blossom?” Etienne held out his empty plate, batting his puppy dog eyes at the old cook. Cain and Abel exhaled thankfully at his interruption.

  Blossom couldn’t resist Etienne, and this time the plate was piled high, with a slice of tipsy cake added for good measure.

  He winked at Blossom, and she harrumphed again, walking away pleased.

  When the meal was finally over, with intermittent casual conversation about the plantation and work to be done during the few days they’d be here, Saralee squirmed. “Can…can I…be…be ex-ex-excused?” she stuttered in a shaky voice.

  “No,” Etienne said firmly.

  Saralee’s blue eyes shot wide and a visible shiver passed over her thin body.

  “Etienne!” Harriet and Cain and Abel turned on the brute with indignation.

  He ignored their scorn. Pulling a worn photograph out of his pocket, Etienne laid it on the table.

  Harriet’s heart started beating so fast she could barely breathe. Cain and Abel tensed.

  Etienne studied the photograph, then glanced over at Saralee, then back to the sepia-toned picture. Gulping, he fought for words. “Saralee, someone gave me hell…I mean, a lecture today. She said I was blind. That I couldn’t see what stared me in the face.”

  The little girl made a squeaking sound and put the fingertips of one hand to her quivering mouth. Abel patted her on the shoulder, murmuring, “It’s gonna be all right, baby.”

  “Well, Saralee, I’m stubborn, but I’m not stupid.” He gave Harriet a look at that last word, then went on, addressing Saralee. “I’m your father. You’re my daughter.”

  “Hallelujah!” Blossom exclaimed in the background. Cain and Abel glowed with happiness. Saralee looked as if Etienne had just handed her the moon. Harriet was weeping.

  I’m a goner, Harriet thought as I love you, stupid echoed through her mind.

  “I don’t know that it makes any difference,” he went on, “but…that’s all I wanted to say.” Etienne shocked everyone by standing abruptly then and walking stiffly toward the back door.

  Wasn’t he going to hug his daughter? Or talk to her? Make up for lost years? Plan their future? The jerk! Where was her tape recorder? She saw a new chapter brewing: “Dumb Things Men Do to Their Children.”

  Boy, oh boy, did Etienne need one of her therapy sessions.

  Boy, oh boy, did she need one of her therapy sessions.

  At the last minute, Etienne turned and sent Harriet a smoldering “man-look.”

  Uh-oh!

  He pointed a finger at her and smiled grimly. “
You and I have unfinished business, darlin’.”

  They probably heard the thumping of her heart all the way to New Orleans.

  And Harriet decided on the title for the last chapter of her book: “I Love You, Stupid.”

  Harriet caught up with Etienne a short time later as he stomped down a narrow path to the bayou stream. More than once, a branch or prickly bush hit her in the face. She didn’t know if it was an accident, or if Etienne had heard her coming and was deliberately impeding her progress.

  Talk about going back to nature. This whole area could use a good industrial-size weed-zapper, or a bulldozer. “Where’s a machete when a girl needs one?” Harriet mumbled.

  Etienne halted and she almost ran into his back. “A machete?” He propped his hands on his hips. “I’ve tolerated way too much abuse from you, sweetheart. Whacks over the head with a satchel and an oar. Dunking in a stream. But I draw the line at being a chopping block for your machete.”

  “Don’t be silly—”

  “I warned you about calling me silly.”

  “Don’t be irrational then. I merely wanted a machete to cut down some of this jungle.”

  “Lady, I do not need you to raze my jungle. And I most definitely do not want to see a sharp weapon in your hands. When, or if, this land gets cleared, it will be by me and no one else.” He jabbed a forefinger at her. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “And stop following me.” He walked away.

  “Then stand still.”

  “No. If I stand still, I’ll remember that I’m harder than a poker,” he said over his shoulder. “And it’s not my own fire I’ve a mind to stoke.”

  She gasped. Damn, but this guy had a knack for making her feel like a quivering virgin, over and over. Hey, that might make a good title for a book. Rediscovering Your Virginity.

  “Why do dumb men think sex is like air?” she twittered nervously, trying for a counterdefensive.

  A small twitch near his right eye was his only reaction.

  “It’s no big thing till they aren’t getting any.”

  “Merde!” he muttered under his breath.

  Harriet couldn’t see Etienne’s face as she stumbled to keep up with his wide strides, but she was pretty sure he was angry. And he had a right to be. He’d been through a lot today. And most of his pain and confusion had been brought on by her. He had to be confused by his relationship with Saralee. “Seriously, I need to talk to you,” she tried again.

  “Seriously, you’ve talked enough.”

  “Etienne, it’s about Saralee. You can’t just—”

  “Aaarrgh!” He stopped and pressed his forehead against a tree, breathing deeply. When he finally looked at her again, his eyes were dark and stormy. “Are you still here? Sacrebleu! Don’t push me any further, Harriet. I acknowledged my daughter. Isn’t that sufficient for you?”

  “No,” she said weakly. Her first inclination was to back down. Accepting paternity for Saralee was a major breakthrough for Etienne, especially after all these years. She would like to leave him alone to digest all the new feelings that must be assailing him. But she had Saralee to consider, as well. And the little girl needed her father now. “You can’t just tell a child that you’re her father. You need to be a father, as well.”

  “Stop meddling in my life.”

  Etienne was walking again, and she skipped to keep pace with him. The path had widened and veered off to the right, following the natural contours of the stream.

  “I only want to help. And I’m qualified to assist in a crisis like this. Are you listening to me, Etienne? This is my life work—counseling dysfunctional families. Today you had a breakthrough, but now the real work begins. Any man can father a child, but it takes a real man to be a father.”

  Etienne’s shoulders slumped. “I have no idea in the world how to be a father.”

  Harriet brightened. “See, I can help you there.”

  Etienne shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually confided in her.

  “First off, you have to be there physically for Saralee. That means staying in one place, or taking her with you. No more abandoning her to other people, like Blossom.”

  He let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’m leaving in a few days.”

  “I know, I know, but there’s got to be a way around that. How about taking Saralee with us?”

  “Us? No, no, no! You are not going anywhere. And I certainly wouldn’t endanger a child on a mission such as this.”

  She tapped her chin thoughtfully with a forefinger. “Well, maybe you could send her to California to stay with her grandparents—your father and stepmother—until…” Her voice trailed off when she saw the rigid set of his jaw and the red fury flushing his cheeks. “Then again, maybe not.”

  “Don’t you ever…ever…mention my father again. If you do, I swear, I really will strangle you.”

  “I just want you to form a plan for dealing with a difficult situation.”

  “I don’t like plans,” he grumbled. “Day by day is as much as I can handle right now.”

  Harriet wept silent tears at the bleakness of his tone. “Etienne, you were in prison for several years. Incarceration forces a man to change his normal habits in order to survive. You conditioned yourself to live only for the moment, to give up your dreams.”

  “What do you know about prison life?” he said with a snarl.

  “I’ve read plenty. Oh, don’t get your hackles up. There are some things a person can learn without the actual experience.”

  “Please, God, not another lecture.”

  “For example, it’s a standard characteristic of prison inmates to hide their feelings and wants because exposure could bring out more cruelty from the guards. In essence, the prisoner deadens a part of himself in order to survive.” She could see that Etienne’s interest was caught, even if he wouldn’t admit it. “I don’t have to have been there to know that you’ve been hiding your emotions for so long you can’t let loose. Now…well, now you have to let down your guard. Give yourself the freedom to map out a future.”

  “Harriet, do you have an opinion on everything?” He smiled when he asked the question, which meant he wasn’t totally upset at her advice.

  She shrugged. “Probably.”

  “And where do you fit into all these plans?” he asked, giving her a measuring assessment.

  “Well, I don’t,” she stammered. Okay, so we’re back to the “I love you, stupid” bit again. He must think I have big plans for him myself. Marriage, and all that. Hah! “I expect to be around here…in the past, I mean…two months max. But in the meantime, I’m at your disposal.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Not in that way. Listen, can we just forget what I, uh, said up there earlier?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He grinned, obviously aware of her discomfort. “No woman has ever told me ‘I love you, stupid.’ I think the words will be emblazoned in my memory forever.”

  Great! “Back to the subject at hand. While I’m here, I can give you and Saralee my undivided professional attention. And I won’t charge a cent.” She beamed at him.

  “Hah! That’s probably because we’ll end up playing leading roles in one of your upcoming books.”

  She blushed guiltily.

  Raking the fingers of both hands through his hair, he glared at her. “Putting money into this plantation would be like spitting in the wind.”

  “Only if you spit in the wrong direction.”

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  “You have a roadblock for everything. Oh, Etienne, this isn’t about money and you know it.”

  “Yes, it most definitely is. I might as well tell you…one of my reasons for being involved in this assignment for President Grant is that I’ll finally get a large sum in back pay and commissions. If I decide to come back to Bayou Noir, I would need all those funds, and more, just to get the sugar operation restarted. Without those f
unds, it would be impossible.”

  “Well, perhaps the separation would be okay as long as you promise Saralee that you’ll be coming back soon. To stay.”

  He scowled at her. “Don’t try to back me into a corner, Harriet. I’m not making any promises to anyone.”

  Harriet sighed. Lord, he was a hard nut to crack. And she’d never expected him to make her any promises. That was a misunderstanding she’d have to clear up later. “The most important thing is to show Saralee how much you love her.”

  “Love her? I don’t even know her.” He was gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

  “This is good, this is good. Verbalize your feelings. Release the rage. Once you get all your emotions out in the open, we can come up with some solutions. Mirroring sessions, hypnotherapy, Rorschach tests, subliminal conditioning, age regression.” Harriet couldn’t wait to begin.

  Etienne gaped at her with horror. “Harriet, I have a powerful headache. I’ve listened to more of your prattling today than any man deserves. Have mercy.” He picked up a dead limb, only an inch or two in diameter and six feet long. Using it to rake an arc in front of him, he plodded into the underbrush.

  “Why are you waving that stick around?”

  “To ward off snakes.”

  Yech!

  “Don’t ever go outside the house without wearing shoes,” he warned conversationally, as if they hadn’t just been having a serious discussion, “and I’d suggest you ask Blossom to find you some leather brogues. A cottonmouth could slip its fangs into those slippers of yours quicker’n a blink.”

  Great! I needed to know that my feet are snake bait. “Where are we going? Wouldn’t we be more comfy discussing this back at the house?” She watched where she placed her slippers more carefully now and, as a result, got another branch in her face. Probably poison oak.

  “We aren’t going anywhere. And we aren’t discussing anything more tonight.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m going on a snake hunt. Betcha I catch at least…fifty.”

  Harriet stopped in her tracks. “A snake hunt?” she squeaked. “Whatever for?”

  Etienne chuckled as he continued strolling on ahead. The creep!