Dwelling Place

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “Eight forty-five,” Chloe said.

  “Fifteen minutes until bedtime and you two haven’t changed into your pajamas or brushed your teeth. Guess you must not want a story tonight.”

  “But, Mommy, the part with the lion was just getting good. We have to find out what happens next,” Amanda said.

  “Then scoot, both of you,” Sophie replied. “If you can brush and change quickly enough, you just might have time.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before the girls, pajamas in hand, raced from the room toward the bathroom. Sophie listened to their chatter while she picked up the rest of the mess left on the rug. Any other time she would have made the girls do the cleaning up, but tonight she relished the simple task.

  The job complete, she set the bin back on the shelf. The water came on in the bathroom, indicating that the girls had begun to brush their teeth. In a moment they would come rushing back in to climb under the covers. A story would surely follow, even though the clock ticked dangerously toward nine.

  An extra few minutes to finish the chapter wouldn’t hurt. Besides, that gave her a few more minutes to avoid the task of looking through the photographs.

  She turned back Amanda’s lacy pink quilt and plumped up her pillow, then moved to Chloe’s bed to do the same. So alike and yet so different, Chloe’s bedcovers, a pattern of pastel squiggles and polka dots against a pink satin top, were uniquely her.

  When she lifted the covers, she saw something half hidden between the mattress and the wall. It was dark and—

  “Mommy, we’re ready,” Amanda called.

  Sophie replaced the pillow and took her spot in the rocker near the window. Reaching for the book, she watched the door as the girls filed in.

  “Ready for the rest of the chapter?” she asked.

  Not only did she finish that chapter, but she read well into the next. Only the girls’ yawns caused her to close the book and kiss them good night.

  When she returned to her room, the pile of photo albums greeted her. So did the memories.

  “Maybe I’ll tackle this tomorrow,” she whispered as she lifted the stack of albums off the bed and cradled them in her arms. “Or Monday after work. Yep, that’s probably best.”

  But as she stacked them neatly on the bedside table, she knew there would never be a good day to confront the loss of Nell Landry.

  Eighteen

  October 3

  Ezra stepped into the late-morning sunshine and inhaled deeply of the chilly air. There were worse places to be at this moment than Latagnier, Louisiana.

  Sunday morning services at Greater Latagnier Fellowship Church of Grace ended right on time during football season. According to the buzz over prechurch coffee in the fellowship hall, the Reverend Simpson achieved two things every Sunday: delivering a message that taught and touched, and ending the service in time to get home for Sunday dinner and football.

  Ezra intended to do just that—head back to Calvin’s for a foot-long hoagie and four quarters of New Orleans Saints football—just as soon as he completed his mission in the back parking lot.

  The thought of his legal file decorating the bottom of Calvin’s trash can grated on him. Why couldn’t his buddy concentrate on legal maneuvers and let him take care of surveillance and intelligence? After all, those were his specialties.

  General Scanlon said he was the best in the department. If he didn’t keep his skills sharp, he’d be lost once he returned to work.

  That is, if the general still found him useful when this situation was resolved.

  The only thing to do was resolve it quickly before he got accustomed to the desk job he was to begin next week. For a man who lived in huts and drank coffee that could double as insecticide, shuffling papers in the Fourth Marine Division’s temporary headquarters was an assignment he dreaded.

  Another reason to hurry up this process and rid the home of its current inhabitants.

  Until last night, Ezra was sure the way to get that accomplished was to pursue legal channels. Then God got hold of him as he lay on Calvin’s sleeper sofa in the converted den, and now he wasn’t sure of anything. If only his prayers could have been answered, there wouldn’t be a need for any further conversations with Sophie Comeaux.

  Checking his watch, he frowned. What was taking them so long?

  He looked toward the back entrance, a dark-paneled door set into a wall of glass and nearly hidden by the giant magnolias on either side of the walkway. The day he planted those trees with his grandfather rolled across his mind, and he smiled.

  The air hung heavy with the threat of cold winter rain, and Ezra, a boy of no more than twelve or thirteen, was less than thrilled at the prospect of planting trees in the chilly semidarkness. He’d tried every way he could to get out of the job, only to find Pastor Landry determined to ignore his protests.

  Twelve magnolias had been planted that day, a direct reference, his grandfather claimed, to the twelve disciples and the twelve tribes of Israel. It took them most of the morning, but they’d placed two at every entrance to the church. The rain held off until the last shovelful of dirt had been set into place. Then, as Ezra raced behind his grandfather for the safety of the big sedan, the bottom fell out, drenching them both.

  Granny Nell said they looked like drowned rats, and she fussed over them. Ezra vaguely remembered chicken soup in a mug and hot tea with honey and lemon, along with a blanket around his shoulders and a warm stove. One thing he would never forget, though. Above all other memories, the moment stood out as the first time Ezra had felt like something other than an orphan.

  He shook off the recollection with a roll of his shoulders. No sense living in the past. His grandparents were with Jesus now; he’d never know that feeling of coming home to a warm blanket and hot tea again.

  The sound of chattering was followed in quick progression by the door opening and the girls spilling out into the fall sunshine. They wore matching dresses today, both red with little black dogs on the skirts. Only their Bibles were different, one pink and the other a bright purple, although both had what looked like a drawing tucked in between the pages.

  “Girls, slow down. Ladies do not—”

  Sophie must have seen him, for she stopped speaking and walking at the same time. She looked almost frozen in time, a vision in red who matched her daughters. While Amanda and Chloe wore little-girl dresses, Sophie was very much the grown-up in her red suit with her hair down in soft, dark curls around her shoulders.

  Seeing her from a distance in a shapeless choir robe during services gave him no hint of what to expect. Thus, the greeting he’d planned froze in his throat, a victim of surprise and. . .reluctant admiration.

  The girls skipped toward him, calling his name, while Sophie remained rooted in place beside the magnolias. Rooted. The irony of the pun made him chuckle.

  “Hello, girls.”

  Each took his hand, and they began talking at once and probably would have continued indefinitely had their mother not intervened by calling their names. At least the chaos got her moving, for she arrived in time to offer a weak smile and an even weaker greeting before ushering the twins toward a silver van parked a few spaces over.

  “Say good-bye to Mr. Landry, girls.” She glanced over her shoulder as she clicked off the alarm and caused the door to slide open. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

  Odd, but it seemed as though she couldn’t part from his company quickly enough.

  Refusing to give voice to his irritation, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What’s the hurry?” He watched her help the girls inside the vehicle. “The game doesn’t start for another half hour.”

  Sophie paused to turn and face him. “Game?”

  “Football game.” He waited for a look of understanding. Nothing. “It was a joke.”

  “Oh.” Sophie seemed to consider further conversation, then obviously thought better of it. “Well, good-bye.” With that, she disappeared around the back of the van.


  Ezra trotted after her, rounding the back bumper of the van as she reached the driver’s-side door. He paused, staying well behind the windows where the girls were watching. Unless she climbed in and threw the van into reverse, he was in no danger here. Any closer to her or the twins and he could no longer claim safety.

  Calvin was right, plain and simple. He had to keep his distance until the judge ruled.

  “Hold on. Can I talk to you a minute?” Her stare told him to hurry. “It’s about next weekend. Saturday, actually.”

  She reached for the door handle and climbed inside, then closed the door. A moment later she rolled down the window and leaned out to look in his direction. “What about Saturday?”

  Ezra took a few steps toward her and stuffed his fists into his pockets. A chill wind danced across the bare skin on the back of his neck, and he suppressed a shiver.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the twins watching him. At least the window was tinted and could not be rolled down. He expected the door to fly open any minute, however, so he inched closer to Sophie, determined to state his business and make a hasty departure.

  “Saturday is. . .well, it might be a problem.”

  There, he’d said it. At least he’d said part of it. Surely the woman understood he was trying to bow out gracefully.

  One look at her told him she did not.

  She climbed out and pointed to the sidewalk, then headed in that direction. Ezra followed at a safe distance. Stopping just short of the curb, Sophie turned around and waited for him to catch up. She seemed to think he had something to say, for she only stood there.

  “Yeah, so Saturday,” he began, unsure of where the sentence would lead. “I, um, well, my lawyer says. . .”

  The wind kicked up and tossed a strand of hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear and gave him a sideways glance. “The major doesn’t want you to be there? Fraternizing with the enemy or something like that?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, something like that. How did you know?”

  “Simple,” she said with a shrug. “Mine thinks the same thing. Told me I couldn’t sign anything, not even a paper napkin.”

  “I see.” Was that a hint of amusement in her eyes? Interesting. “Yeah, mine said the same thing. Well, nothing about a paper napkin, but I don’t think he has a clue about napkins.”

  They shared a chuckle, which felt strange and yet nice. Ezra tried to keep his mind on the battle, keep his wits sharp and at the ready, but all he could think of was how lovely Sophie Comeaux looked in red.

  And how under other circumstances, he might have found more than a passing interest in spending time with her.

  “Mommy, I’m getting cold,” Chloe called.

  “Me, too,” Amanda echoed.

  “Coming, girls. Why don’t you shut the doors and warm up a bit?” She gave Ezra a pleading look and took a step toward the van. “Sorry, I really need to go.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He stuffed his fists in his pockets and caught a deep breath of cold air, then let it out slowly. “Look—it’s not you, okay?”

  Sophie froze and turned around slowly. “What are you talking about?”

  “The house. The lawsuit. You know, the. . .”

  Dark eyes glared at him. “The For Sale sign? The eviction notice? The summons for court?”

  “Yeah,” was all he could say as he looked away. Odd, but shame burned in his gut.

  He heard her take a step toward him on the crunchy gravel and looked her way. She held her arms across her chest as if protecting her heart.

  “Well, if it’s not me, then who or what is it, Ezra?”

  Cringing, he searched for an answer.

  “Oh, there you are, dears.”

  Ezra looked past Sophie to see Miss Emmeline Trahan heading their way. Great. Get out now, or you’ll miss the first quarter.

  “Afternoon, Miss Trahan,” he said. “I was just leaving.”

  Miss Trahan picked up her pace. “Oh no, you can’t leave yet. We now have a quorum, and there are decisions to be made.”

  Nineteen

  “Decisions?” Sophie shook her head. “Miss Emmeline, what are you talking about?”

  The church secretary fanned her ample bosom with a lace-trimmed hankie that looked remarkably like the ones Granny Nell carried. She gave Ezra a smile, then turned to Sophie.

  “The founders’ festival, of course. Now I see you’ve got the twins in the car, so what do you say about coming back inside where it’s warm and reconvening this meeting in the fellowship hall? Last night’s Warner-Wiggins wedding party left a fridge full of goodies. I’m sure we could make a delicious meal from what’s there.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Ezra said. “I kind of need to get back on the road.”

  “I understand completely, young man,” she said. “I’m a Saints fan myself. Would it help if I told you there’s a television set in the pastor’s study? I’ll have you home by halftime.”

  “Hold on. I’m still confused.” Sophie shook her head. “Miss Emmeline, what are you talking about?”

  “Why, Nell’s program, of course. You said you needed help.”

  “Yes,” Sophie said, “but what does he have to do with it?”

  “He’s your help, dear.” She chuckled. “Isn’t that just a hoot? Who knew I could convince Nell’s only living relative to participate? I am very grateful, Major Landry.”

  “Just Ezra,” he said, “and you didn’t tell me she would be part of this.”

  “Oh my, didn’t I?” Miss Emmeline shook her head. “Well now, how could I have let that tidbit slip?”

  His tone told her Ezra was just as unhappy about the arrangement as she. Funny, Miss Emmeline didn’t seem to understand at all. At least her expression never gave it away if she did. Surely she’d heard about the trouble between them.

  Emmeline linked arms with Sophie, then reached for Ezra’s hand. “Come—let’s focus on what’s important here. Family.”

  “All right,” Ezra said. “I’m willing to honor my grandmother any way I can. Why don’t the two of you make all the decisions, then just let me know what to do?”

  “Mommy,” Chloe called, “I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah,” Amanda added, “we’re turning into popsicles.”

  “Coming, girls.” Sophie shrugged. “I really need to leave now, but how about you two make the decisions and let me know what my part is?” She turned her attention to Ezra. “After all, the major here is family.”

  “Yes, but you were family to Nell, as well,” Miss Emmeline said. “I recall on many occasions how Nell would go on and on about how blessed she was to have you and the girls right next door in case she needed something. Said it made her feel like she had a family again.”

  Ezra’s face paled, but he said nothing.

  “And those girls, Ezra—I must tell you I hadn’t seen Nell so excited about young people under her roof since you came to live with her and the reverend. Oh, how I remember that day.” She touched Sophie’s sleeve. “You should have seen him. He’s clean-cut now, but back then he had hair down to here.”

  She pointed to her shoulders. Sophie laughed at the thought of Ezra Landry with anything other than a regulation marine cut.

  “She’s exaggerating,” Ezra said.

  “I’m being generous, Ezra Landry, and I’ve got the pictures to prove it. Would you like me to go home and find them?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said softly. “You can just leave them there.”

  “Anyway,” Miss Emmeline continued, “he might have been a bit of a rebel, but he was the spitting image of his daddy, Nell’s baby brother, and she felt like he was an answer to prayer when the reverend found him in the state orphans home.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Ezra said.

  Sophie swung her gaze to the marine, who looked as if he’d been blindsided.

  “Yes, dear. Of course. But then I don’t suppose you could have known that our whole Sunday school class had been praying for you since
before you were born. After your daddy took sick and your mama died, why, we were just about out of our minds with worry.”

  This news seemed to glance off him like an arrow off armor. He took a half step back, releasing himself from Miss Emmeline’s grip. Was she mistaken, or did she see a shimmer of tears in his eyes?

  “Ezra comes from bayou people, Sophie. Nell’s family goes way back in the history of Latagnier. Her daddy was a preacher here, and so was her granddaddy before him. Married half the parish, the Reverend Broussard did, and probably buried just as many before his untimely passing. Lost him to the flu, we did, and his wife, too. Poor soul had just delivered Ezra’s daddy. He was a late-in-life baby, you know. For years we thought Nell was to be an only child.”

  “That’s so sad. What happened to Nell and the baby?”

  “Oh, Nell must have been fifteen at the time, maybe a bit older. Practically of marrying age, I remember that. We all wanted to take them in, but Nell’s grandmother on her mama’s side insisted on moving them to Dallas, after she sold everything they owned and put it in her own bank account. Next thing we knew, both of ’em were at the Buckner Home and their grandmother was living in Highland Park in a brand-new home.”

  “No wonder Nell had such a heart for orphans.”

  “Oh, indeed.” Miss Emmeline smiled. “Soon as she was old enough, Nell took little Robbie and moved back here. Went to work cleaning the church and ended up marrying the pastor. She used to joke that the only reason the reverend proposed was to save the cleaning fees and make the church budget balance.”

  This time Ezra chuckled. “That sounds like Granny Nell.”

  “He was a good man, Rev. Landry, and a fine preacher. Quite a bit older than Nell, he was, but he adored that woman. He did many good things for the church, too. Planted those magnolias for one. You helped him with that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly.

  “And Ezra’s daddy, he was a good man, too. He just came back from the war with a nervous condition, that’s all.”