A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  He was so stoic, I could never guess what he was thinking. I had no idea what we had been doing in his kitchen, but I was serious about him bottling those sauces. My God, the mustard was to die for, and the remoulade he’d made with those ingredients? Well, when we went back to Outlaws, I was having the crab cakes and the egg rolls. He’d told me the jezebel sauce was made with apple jelly, horseradish, and coarse black pepper, but he also had a secret ingredient for that sauce, too, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.

  He’d gotten distant then, and I guess I should have expected it. But the moments when he’d been more open and so damned sexy, especially the sound he made while I sucked the mustard off his finger. Yeah, the interlude had gotten me quite hot and bothered.

  When we stepped onto the porch, Mrs. Evangeline “Evie” Outlaw opened the door and was so startled to see us there, she almost dropped her watering can. Brax surged forward to help her, but water jostled out anyway, soaking his jeans and sneakers.

  “Braxton,” she said, clapping her hand to her chest. “You surprised me.” Then she turned to look at me and her eyebrows winged up into her hairline. “River Pearl,” she said, a bit out of breath.

  It was so easy to see where the trips had gotten their devastating good looks. His momma was only thirty-seven, but she was stunningly beautiful. Her hair, still long and dark, was pulled off her face, and her wide, spicy brown eyes rimmed with long sooty lashes were almond-shaped. Her body was toned and slim. Brax must have gotten those sharp blue eyes from his daddy. I’d never seen a picture of him. I wondered if he was as handsome.

  “Hello, Mrs. Outlaw.”

  Mutely she looked at Braxton. I was glad she didn’t seem to have any problem telling her sons apart.

  “We need to talk to you, Ma.”

  “Oh, God. What is it?” She gave me such an anxious look I realized she thought I was pregnant.

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Oh, thank God. I love being a grandma, but I need a breather between, and marriage first would be even better.”

  Braxton blanched and shuffled his feet like marrying me had been the last thing on his mind.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I adore Duel and Verity. We are so blessed. Well, come on in out of the heat.”

  We went into her neat and tidy house. She had great taste in art. I loved all the bayou watercolors. Inspired all over again, I decided I would go over to that place Maizy recommended in Lafayette.

  “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll get us some iced tea.”

  I sat on the couch, and I noticed Braxton was sprawled in a chair. He was still quiet, and I looked at him, needing a hint about what was going on now. As I did, I saw them. Pictures arrayed on a table set against the wall. Without saying anything, I rose and went over to look. There were numerous photos of the trips at various ages, looking so damn cute I smiled. But then my eyes snagged on Brody Outlaw, the trips’ daddy. For a moment it was like I was staring into Braxton’s face. He was the spitting image of his daddy and, yes, it’s where they’d gotten those heartbreaking blue eyes. I picked the picture up so I could study it closer.

  “He left when I was six.”

  His voice was so deep, vibrating with visceral anger, but his warmth surrounded me, comforting as a blanket on a cold day. I wanted to set the picture down and pull him into my arms, ease what I heard in his voice. Pain, as visceral as the anger. “He’s heartbreakingly handsome,”

  “Yes, he is,” Mrs. Outlaw said with a catch in her voice as she walked back into the living room. “He was a good man and I loved him deeply. I don’t believe what anyone says about him. The picture was taken the same year we had them.” She bit her lip and I saw the tears glisten in her eyes. I set the picture down, sorry I had upset her, shooting Braxton an apologetic look.

  He smiled and shook his head that it was okay. But I didn’t think it was.

  “Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Outlaw,” I said changing the subject as I backed away from her table of memories and took a seat back on the couch.

  “Oh, call me Evie. You’re nineteen now, a woman.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I could.”

  She smiled and handed me a glass of iced tea, then one to Brax. “Sure you can, cher.” Her Cajun accent was always slight, as if she worked to overcome it, but it had thickened now, probably because she was upset.

  I was suddenly very curious about Brax’s Cajun relatives and Mrs. Outlaw’s family.

  She took the third glass off the pretty tray she had set on the coffee table and took up a chair across from me. “What brings you here, River Pearl?”

  I looked at Brax, but he returned my gaze with one saying this was your bright idea. You handle it.

  “Well, Mrs. Outlaw, as you know, my family always delivers a speech at Founder’s Day every year. This year I’ve been tasked with it.”

  “Okay,” she said, still apparently confused about how she or Brax might fit into my family festival.

  “I..ah….want to write about the Colonel and…” I cleared my throat “…Duel Outlaw.”

  She dropped the glass of tea right onto her bright rug. “Oh, shoot,” she said and jumped and ran into the kitchen. When she got back with a towel, she dropped to her hands and knees and soaked up the spill, her dark hair falling over her shoulder.

  She sat back, took a breath, and gave Brax a sharp look. He shrugged. Then she looked at me. She rose and walked back to the kitchen. When she came back, she sat down on the couch, still looking shocked.

  “River Pearl,” she said. “Why would you want to dredge up such a terrible time? That event has destroyed my family, made my boys pariahs in their own town. We have been and still are outcasts. I can’t say it thrills me to learn you plan to remind people who Duel was.”

  “Here’s the thing, Mrs. Out…Evie. I think there’s more to the story. The story about my ancestor and yours. The Suttons and the Outlaws seem to be…connected. I found some old journals the Colonel wrote, and they’re full of information about Duel. He fought in the war and he was a medic. I looked up a lot of information about the war, finding it fascinating. My ancestor had nothing but glowing things to say about Duel. There’s a story there, and I want to explore it and maybe introduce him to Suttontowne.”

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Really, no one cares about him or who he was.”

  “I’m aware of that, but it’s important to me. Brax said you had a lot of mementos from Duel in your attic. Would you mind if I looked through them and borrowed what I need for the speech? I would return everything.”

  Mrs. Outlaw sat there, her eyes a swirl of emotion, anguish and…fear. She glanced at Braxton. “What do you have to say about this? Do your brothers know?”

  “I say if she wants to waste her time and breath on a speech no one is going to give a damn about, let her. I told her I would help her, Ma. She wants to write about their friendship. It’s up to her to talk to Book and Boone.”

  “All right, go and pull the stairs down from the attic. Let us know when you’re done.”

  Brax stood up and gave me a sorry look.

  I stood and faced Mrs. Outlaw.

  “What are you playing at, missy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Braxton was occupied. We could hear banging.

  “My son Braxton may not show it, but he’s just as sensitive as my other boys. Only it’s more heartbreaking because he never lets it out. Never. I don’t want you hurting him with some scheme.”

  “I would never hurt him, Evie. I promise. I just want…I just want to know who Duel was and more about what happened. To be frank, I’m sick of this whole hate-the-Outlaws thing. I have nothing but affection and…admiration for the way Booker, Boone and Braxton have made something out of their lives in a town full of people who’ve always been against them. I swear my intentions are pure.”

  Her features softened. “I’ve always spoken my mind, but thank you for being honest with me.
May I see the speech before you present it?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right, you have my permission to take what you need. But these were my husband’s things, and I’m very protective of them. It’s all I have left of him. Please be careful with them.”

  “I will take extremely good care of them. I promise.”

  She nodded.

  “Ma? Ready.”

  “Go on, then.”

  Impulsively I hugged her. “Thank you so much. This means a great deal to me.”

  She hugged me back, and when Braxton’s impatient face materialized around the corner, his expression went tender when he saw us.

  He stared at me intensely for a minute before he moved out of the way. I grasped the side of the wooden attic stairs and climbed up. It wasn’t the usual musty, dusty attic. The room opened up into a large space with a number of leather trunks up against the wall, along with a number of brown boxes. The attic was air-conditioned, too, as comfortable up here as it was downstairs. I stepped onto the nicest wooden floor I’d ever seen in an attic.

  It was clear Evie took her care of her husband’s keepsakes seriously.

  “She’s pretty fanatic about this stuff. I told you she keeps it nice.”

  I approached one of the trunks and looked at the label. Dress Uniforms.

  My breath caught. Uniforms?

  I opened the bin and my breath rushed out. Pristine, authentic Confederate uniforms were neatly folded in the trunk. I turned to look at Braxton. “This is amazing. These are Confederate uniforms, from…from the War Between the States!”

  “Yup.”

  “Duel Outlaw was a second lieutenant in the war. He was also a medic. Did you know that?”

  Braxton shrugged, looking bored. “I don’t know much about him. Never really wanted to. He was the person responsible for the reputation that has followed us for more than one hundred and fifty years.”

  “Do you understand what these would go for?”

  “My ma didn’t care about the money. It’s my daddy’s legacy and she couldn’t part with it. She worked two jobs instead of selling one item. We never went hungry. She did, though. But we never did.”

  “Oh, Brax.” I covered my face and burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. It was all so heartbreaking. It melted my heart and made me love all of them even more.

  “River,” he said with anguish, and I felt him kneel down and, after a moment’s hesitation, he pulled me into his arms. I nestled against him, my heart so full for the love Mrs. Outlaw had for her husband and children, a love so strong and true she preserved these in pristine, beautiful condition when it would have been easier to sell them.

  He held me so sweetly while my heart turned over and over for him, and for his family. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in his heavenly scent. His hand delved into my hair and he caressed my scalp in a way he meant to be soothing. I only cried harder. He pulled me tighter and started murmuring to me in French. It was such a beautiful language. I wondered what he was saying.

  Then he switched back to English. “It’s all right,” he said. “It’s only old stuff.”

  I tipped my head back to look up at him, and he smiled, a smile I felt to the marrow of my bones. He wiped at my tears with his thumb.

  “It’s historical stuff,” I argued, my throat thick.

  He brushed damp hair off my teary cheek and bent down, kissing my face. I reached up and delved my fingers into his thick, dark hair. The strands were like silk against my skin. His stubble was dark, texturing his jaw, making him even sexier. He had been clean-shaven this morning, probably for my hoity-toity luncheon…and my heart turned over again at what he’d done for me this very morning. And I’d thanked just about everyone but him.

  “Thank you,” I said, and he shrugged.

  “My arms were just hanging around with nothing to do.”

  “No, not for comforting me, sugar, for the luncheon.”

  “I didn’t do it for those ladies, or for that pinhead of a manager, or even for Boone and Booker. Surely you know. I did it for you, River. Only for you.”

  “I know, and I was such a bitch, and I’m sorry about that, too. The food was amazing and the presentation as beautiful as any I’ve seen in New York. Sorry I was sassy.”

  “I like your sass. A lot.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.” He closed his eyes as I sifted his hair through my fingers. “Good, because I expect there will be more where you’re concerned.”

  He laughed, and it was rich, and it did something to my insides. I couldn’t recall ever hearing him really laugh before.

  He took a breath and said, his voice muted, “You are so beautiful, River.”

  His face came closer to mine. He held my gaze, his eyes so, so blue, intense and mesmerizing. “I want to…”

  His cell phone went off and I wanted to weep. He stilled as if it was more of a wake-up call, and my disappointment was bitter.

  He swore grim and low, and let me go. Pulling out the phone he looked at the caller and swore again. “What is it?”

  “What the fuck is going on!”

  “Booker, calm down.”

  “My tripdar is driving me up the wall. Are you okay?”

  I could hear him shouting.

  “I’m fine.” Braxton sighed heavily.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Ma’s.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, too. We’re all fucking fine.”

  “No you’re not. I can hear it in your voice. What are you doing?”

  “None of your goddamned business, Booker! Chill out and take a pill for kee-rist’s sake.” Then he disconnected. He sighed heavily and covered his face. “Between Boone and Booker, I think I’m going insane.”

  He rolled his head toward me. I hadn’t moved, just watching him interact with Booker made me get the full feeling in my chest all over again.

  “He cares. That’s all.”

  “I effing know that.” He reached out and brushed his fingers down my cheek. “I’m going to have to go. I’ve got to get back to the bar.”

  The twist of disappoint got sharper. He was bailing.

  “But I wanted dinner.”

  “I know. Come by later. My ma will drop you home. I hope you find what you need.”

  He rose and walked over to the ladder. As he descended, he stopped. “Let me know when you get to Outlaws. I’ll eat with you.”

  It was pathetic how hope blossomed in my chest. “You will?”

  “Yeah.” He flashed me a lopsided grin. “I will.”

  Then he disappeared.

  I re-folded the uniform coat and settled it back into the trunk. It made me sad to know none of the Outlaw trips wanted to know about their relative. All I ever heard about was how my relative had built this town. I knew all about the Colonel, but my curiosity increased when I read about both men in his journal and saw these mementos of Duel. He was a man with a life, and I wanted to explore his life. I wonder if Mrs. Outlaw had read them. I left the trunks and walked over to the metal shelving, reaching for one of the boxes labeled letters, trying to keep my heart from racing, thinking about the concession from Brax. That grin and those eyes. What a lethal combination.

  I set the box on my lap and opened the lid, reaching in carefully to pull out the letters. They had been removed from their envelopes and separated into archival folders. They began in the summer of 1850, and were addressed to Amy Pierpont in Lafayette. Love letters from Duel. I settled down to read, and as I moved from one letter to the next, Duel began to take shape. Seems Amy was a debutante, like me, from a wealthy family, and Duel was twenty years old. He was new to Lafayette and worked as a waiter in an upscale restaurant, where he’d seen Amy dining with her family. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with her, but since he wasn’t part of her social milieu, he’d written her letters.

  September 12, 1850

  Miss Amy,

  Yesterday I was stunned to find
a wonderful angel sitting in my section of Seeger’s with beautiful blue eyes and pink lips minus the wings. I was enchanted when I saw you. Am enchanted still. I have no hope of even speaking with you but I had to write and let you know.

  Sincerely,

  Duel Outlaw

  September 13, 1850

  Mr. Outlaw,

  How kind of you to mention to me that I have caught your particular attention. I am intrigued and very flattered, sir. I will declare that I am not ignorant of who you are. Did you not see me glancing your way? You have a very pleasing countenance, sir. But if you don’t initiate a conversation, there is little chance that I could respond.

  Miss Amy Pierpont

  That little vixen knew what she was about and the next few letters confirmed that she had her own crush on Duel.

  October 1, 1850

  Miss Amy,

  I know that I am forbidden to write you, but I cannot stop myself. Your daddy was quite clear I was to stay away from you and never contact you again.

  Sincerely,

  Duel Outlaw

  But our interlude in the back garden of Seeger’s had fired my blood and I cannot get you out of my head. Please consent to meet me back there after the dinner rush tonight. I must see you.

  I continued to read loving the intrigue and the clandestine love affair. Glancing at my watch, an hour had passed while I pored over the first stack of letters. I rose and selected the box marked letters, the one marked journals, and a third one marked ledgers. I made my way down the ladder balancing the shoe-box size containers.

  I sealed up the attic and walked into the living room to find Mrs. Outlaw doing yoga in front of the beautiful window overlooking the bayou.

  “Mrs. Out…Evie. I’m done for now. I’ve borrowed a few things and will handle them very carefully. Brax said you would be willing to drive me home.”

  “I’d be happy to give you a lift, cher.”

  “Thank you.”

  As we drove up to my home, my Uncle Winchester, my daddy’s younger brother, was just heading up the steps to go into the house. I squealed when I saw him and Evie smiled.