Robby marched around the perimeter, apparently able to see without a flashlight. "There's no cellar door here."
"It's outside." Heather lit the way down the steps. "To the right."
Robby strode ahead while Jean-Luc remained glued to her side.
The warm air felt thick and moist against her bare skin. A mosquito buzzed by her ear, and she brushed it away. "Damned bloodsucker."
"Where?" Jean-Luc raised his sword, pivoting to look around.
Heather laughed. "You're going after a mosquito with a sword? Good luck with that."
He gave her a sheepish look. "I thought you meant something a little bigger."
"Like what? A bat? I don't think we have any vampire bats in Texas."
"You never know," he muttered, then motioned toward Robby. "He's found the cellar."
Heather heard the rattle of chains. She pointed her flashlight toward the noise and spotted Robby leaning over the cellar door. "Don't tell me they locked it. The cellar's supposed to be a tornado shelter for the campers."
Robby pulled the chains away from the looped door handles. "The lock was broken." He exchanged a look with Jean-Luc.
Heather wondered if the Scotsman was being entirely honest. He must be. He couldn't be strong enough to rip open a padlock.
"Let me help." Jean-Luc heaved open one of the doors while Robby opened the other.
Heather pointed her flashlight into the gaping dark hole. Sheesh, what had possessed her to come here? "So, who wants to go into the black pit of doom first?"
"I will." Robby started down the steps, holding his claymore ready.
"Don't you need the flashlight?" Heather asked.
"I can see," Robby muttered.
She kept the light aimed into the hole. "You were right," she whispered to Jean-Luc. "I shouldn't have come."
"What about being master of your own destiny?"
"I still believe that, and I believe I can protect myself. I'm just afraid you'll be more concerned with protecting me than catching Louie."
"You are correct. That's why I brought Robby."
"I don't want to hold you back. Or endanger you."
"I'll be fine." He moved to her right with his foil in his right hand. "Stay close behind me." He started down the stairs.
She took a deep breath. You're at war with fear. She followed him down, resting a hand on his shoulder.
When he reached the bottom, he took her hand to escort her toward the center of the room. She pivoted, shooting a beam of light in a circle around the dark cellar. It fit Fidelia's description. Dark. No windows. Stone walls. A thick layer of dust on the stone floor made her nose itch. Dirt and debris were swept into small mounds along the walls.
"Check the ceiling," Jean-Luc said quietly.
The ceiling? She aimed her flashlight up. Did they really expect Louie to hang around the ceiling? That was weird.
"It's clear," Jean-Luc announced.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Great. No homicidal maniacs here."
"Nay. 'Tis safe enough." Robby circled the room. As he approached a dark corner, little scurrying feet pattered away from him.
"A rat!" Heather grabbed Jean-Luc's arm and pressed close. Her flashlight waved about wildly. He took the flashlight and located the creature. "Don't worry. It's just a mouse."
"Are you kidding? That thing is huge!"
"It's a harmless little field mouse."
"Haven't you heard? Everything is big in Texas."
"Our rats in France would laugh at your mouse." Jean-Luc looped an arm around her shoulders.
"You haven't lived until you've seen the rats of Paris."
"Oh, that's so romantic…not."
"Ah, now there's a big one with giant claws and sharp teeth." He laughed when she flung her arms around his neck. "Not."
"What?" She realized her face was pressed close to his.
"I was kidding." His arms wrapped around her. "But I can't apologize. I'm quite happy with the results."
"You rascal. You scared me." She should have swatted him, or at least pulled away from him, but it felt so good to have his strong arms around her and the solid warmth of his chest pressed against her.
He rubbed his chin against her brow. The soft scrape of whiskers was both masculine and comforting.
"I doona believe Lui was ever here," Robby announced. "As dusty as the floor is, there would be footprints."
"I agree." Jean-Luc kept his arms around Heather.
Robby muttered something under his breath. "Shall I leave ye two alone?"
Jean-Luc chuckled. "We're coming." He released Heather and handed her the flashlight. "We've done enough for tonight."
Enough searching for Louie or enough hugging? She would have enjoyed a few more minutes of hugging. Or an hour or two. She followed them to the staircase and took Jean-Luc's hand to ascend the steps. The night air smelled fresh compared to the musty, dank air of the cellar.
"We'll try again tomorrow," Jean-Luc announced as he and Robby shut the cellar doors. Tomorrow? That was Sunday. "I have other plans, but we can go somewhere afterward."
"What plans?" Jean-Luc escorted her back to his car. "I cannot leave you unprotected."
"I already volunteered to help out at the fair. The church is trying to raise money for some playground equipment. I have to be there early to set up chairs and stuff. Fidelia and Bethany will be there, too."
Jean-Luc frowned. "A public place could be dangerous. Robby and I will have to come."
Robby groaned.
Heather grinned. "Great! It starts at seven. At Riverside Park."
"Fine." Jean-Luc pressed his keypad to unlock his car, then opened the door for her. "And afterward, we will continue our hunt for Lui. If you can, think of more places that fit Fidelia's description."
"Okay." She climbed into the car, and he shut the door.
She could hear Jean-Luc and Robby discussing something quietly. Probably the best strategy for keeping her and Bethany alive. She slipped her flashlight into her purse, next to the Glock. With the arrival of Jean-Luc Echarpe, her life had become much more exciting. She was not going to let Louie take her life away.
But she might just lose her heart to Jean-Luc.
The next evening, Heather was setting up chairs at Riverside Park. It had been another uneventful day with no sign of Louie. They'd gone to church in the morning, then they'd goofed off the rest of the day. Jean-Luc had promised to come soon after sunset. She'd found herself eagerly wishing for the day to pass by so she could see him again.
"Need some help with that?"
She cringed at the sound of the booming voice and prayed it was not directed at her. She glanced up. Nope, Coach Gunter was swaggering toward her. The football coach at Guadalupe High had been trying to score for more than six months. The fact that Heather hadn't let him get a first down did not deter him.
"No thank you." She turned her back to him as she unfolded a metal chair. She still had the last row to set up in front of the gazebo where the children would sing.
Coach Gunter circled in front of her so she couldn't help but see him and assumed his usual Superman pose—feet spread, hands on hips, chest thrust out. He also wore his usual attire—a sleeveless T-shirt to show off his bulging biceps, and shorts to show off his muscular calves.
Heather considered him a miniature caveman—short in stature and shorter on brains. There were eligible women in town who collected miniatures. He really should try his luck with them. Some women did ogle his manly physique, and Coach knew it. Heather could tell he expected her to stop her work and admire him, but she continued to unfold chairs and line them up. Bethany was her assistant, sitting in each chair to make sure it worked properly.
"How do you like my swim trunks?" Coach swiveled, no doubt to showcase his buns of steel.
"They're okay." Heather dragged another folding chair off the nearby stack.
"I'm doing the dunking booth," Coach continued. "You should come by later and see me all wet."<
br />
He winked.
Heather made a noncommittal, grunting sound as she snapped another chair open and placed it in line. She smiled at her daughter. "How does this one work?"
Bethany wiggled onto the chair. "It's fine, Mama." She glanced up at the coach. "I'm gonna sing tonight."
"Yeah, whatever." Coach gave her a dubious look, then his face brightened. "Hey, how'd you like to go out with your mom and me for some ice cream later tonight?"
Bethany squirmed on her chair, grinning. "I love ice cream!" She looked at her mom expectantly. Oh, foul play. Heather had just picked up another metal chair, and she contemplated whacking the coach on the head with it. But would he feel it? With her luck, he'd consider it some kind of Neanderthal foreplay.
She jerked the chair open and gave her daughter a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but
Coach should have asked me first." She straightened, glaring at the coach. "We already have plans for tonight."
He jutted out his chin. "So the rumors are true? You have a new boyfriend?"
Sometimes this town was a little too small. Heather glanced at the sun skimming along the tops of the trees. In less than an hour, Jean-Luc would arrive. "I have some friends coming later."
"Yeah, right," Coach muttered. "You don't know what you're missing." He stalked away. With a sigh, Heather grabbed another chair. Only three more to set up. The fair started in five minutes. There was already a line of people at the ticket booth.
"Don't you like him, Mama?" Bethany asked quietly.
"Coach?" Heather positioned the chair next to her daughter. "He never did help me with the chairs, did he?"
"I'm helping you." Bethany climbed onto the one she'd just set up.
"Yep, you're doing quality control. And doing a great job." Heather retrieved another chair from the stack.
Bethany scrunched up her little nose as if in deep thought. "He thinks he's pretty."
The coach? Heather laughed as she opened the chair. "I think you're right. You're a smart cookie."
Bethany shrugged like it was a given. "I like Emma."
"So do I." Heather picked up the last chair.
"Will she see me sing?"
"I believe so." Heather opened the last chair and sat next to her daughter.
"I like the man who talks funny, too."
Heather's heart did a little flip. "Mr. Echarpe?" She'd tried hard not to think about him all day, but he'd still crept into her thoughts a dozen times. Per hour.
Bethany crossed her little legs, mimicking an adult, then folded her arms and rested her chin on one palm. She tapped her chin with a finger. It was her serious thinking pose. Heather considered it adorable, and it always made her want to drag her daughter into her arms for a big hug. She refrained, however, since she knew she should encourage her daughter to think for herself. She glanced at the sun once more, trying to estimate how long it would take to set. And how long before she'd see Jean-Luc.
"Mr. Sharp doesn't know he's pretty," Bethany announced. "But he is."
Heather's mouth dropped open. Good Lord, she'd given birth to a genius. "I think you're brilliant."
"I'm hungry. Can I have some cotton candy? I want the pink one."
"We can do that. After supper." Heather glanced at the gazebo. "Look. Miss Cindy wants you up there."
Bethany squirmed off her chair and ran toward the gazebo where all the preschoolers were gathering. One of the teachers, Miss Cindy, proceeded to arrange them into two rows, the taller children in the back.
Heather rubbed her neck. The physical labor, Texas heat, and lack of sleep were catching up with her. At least once the sun set, the temperature would fall a few degrees. Jean-Luc was smart to wait.
There he was again, in her thoughts. She'd tossed and turned for an hour last night before sleep had finally overtaken her. She'd been tempted to go downstairs and keep him company all night.
God knew there was still a lot she needed to learn about him. She'd shared her life story with him, but he'd shared very little with her.
What was he doing in Schnitzelberg, Texas, when the fashion world was centered in Paris? What was the real story behind Louie? Was she really in as much danger as Jean-Luc claimed? In spite of all her questions, she was drawn to him. Her heart raced whenever she looked into his sky-blue eyes. And she wanted his arms around her again.
But she'd known him only two nights. It was dangerous to fall for a man so fast. It should be dangerous, but it felt wonderful and exciting. Even more reason for her to keep her guard up.
She'd survived too much upheaval in her life to screw it up now. Her first priority should be to maintain a calm, loving environment for her daughter.
Fidelia plopped down beside her and set her purse in her lap. In honor of the festive occasion, she'd worn her bright red skirt with gold spangles. "Those silly old church ladies. I offered to do a fortune-telling booth, but they turned up their snooty noses and said it was too pagan for a church function."
Heather winced. "I'm sorry." No doubt one of those church ladies was Cody's mother. Mother Westfield had already informed Heather that she was abusing Bethany by allowing a gypsy woman to live in her house.
When it came to her daughter's safety, Heather was more concerned with Fidelia's gun-toting habits than her card reading. She glanced at the infamous purse. "Are you packing?"
"Only the Glock. I cut back." Fidelia hung her head. "I felt kinda bad about the squirrel."
Heather patted her arm. "I was relieved to have your gun with me last night."
Fidelia nodded. "If that Louie shows up, I'll blow his head off. Don't care if I go to prison for it, either. You were kind enough to give me a home, even after I failed your mama." Her eyes glimmered with tears.
Heather turned to face her old friend. "You didn't fail my mother. You tried your best to warn her."
"If I'd kept my mouth shut, both your parents might still be alive. Maybe those church ladies are right. Maybe I'm no good."
"I won't let you say that! My mother paid for your services, and she would have pestered you to kingdom come for your advice. You know that. It was impossible to tell my mother no."
Fidelia sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I'll do anything to protect you and the baby girl. I owe you that much."
"You don't owe me anything. You were always there for me. Like a second mother." Heather laughed to keep her own tears at bay. "But a lot more fun than my real mother."
Fidelia nodded. "She was a strong-willed woman."
"Stubborn and fearful," Heather corrected her. "I'm not living with fear anymore. I don't want you to, either."
Fidelia patted her purse. "I've got my courage right here."
"You've got courage inside you. And you're a good person. If I wasn't a hundred percent sure of that, I wouldn't trust you to take care of my daughter."
Fidelia blinked away her tears, then assumed her tough face. "I checked out the crowd and the surroundings like you asked. No strangers with white hair and a cane."
"Good. Thank you." Heather glanced at the sun. About thirty minutes to go before Jean-Luc arrived. "Did you have any dreams last night?"
"I did have a strange one. I think it was Juan, but it was hard to tell. He looked like a guy from that movie you watch so much. Pride and something."
"Pride and Prejudice? He looked like a Regency guy?"
Fidelia narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. "I think so, but only for a second. Then he looked like…George Washington, but fancier."
"That's weird."
"Si. And then he looked like—I don't know. He had on tights and funny shorts that filled out like balloons."
"Like a Renaissance man?"
Fidelia shrugged. "I don't know what it means."
Heather took a deep breath. She'd dismissed her immortal theory as too bizarre, but now she wondered.
Fidelia watched her closely. "You have an idea?"
"It's too strange."
"You're talking to me, honey. Nothing
's too strange."
"I think Jean might be…different somehow."
Fidelia laughed. "He's a hell of a lot different from any men in this town. But he might be just right for you."
"I mean really different."
"You mean in a supernatural way?" Fidelia tilted her head, considering it. "That could be."
"You could believe that?"
"I've told you a million times. There are many things we do not know. That doesn't make them not true."
An immortal man? If Jean-Luc was one, then Louie was one, too, and they were locked in a struggle that had gone on for centuries. In spite of the heat, Heather shivered.
"Mama! Aunt Fee!" Bethany ran up to them. "Did you see me on the stage?"
"We sure did." Heather pulled her onto her lap. "You looked fabulous."
"Will you sit on the front row to watch me sing?"
"Of course." Heather adjusted the barrette in her daughter's hair. It was topped with a blue grosgrain ribbon bow to match Bethany's blue sundress.
"I'm hungry."
Heather smiled. "You're always hungry."
"I checked out the booths," Fidelia said. "We have our choice of German sausage on a stick or a hot dog."
Great. Heather grimaced. Pork or pork.
"I want a hot dog!" Bethany jumped off her mother's lap. "With lots of ketchup."
A mental picture flashed through Heather's mind as they strolled toward the hot dog booth—Bethany on stage with her blue sundress and a giant ketchup stain down the front. "Let's go easy on the ketchup."
"You should try a foot-long," Fidelia told her.
"I'm not that hungry."
"Honey, who's talking about food?" Fidelia winked.
With a snort, Heather shook her head.
"You should try one with some nice French buns."
Heather laughed. "Yeah, I've been carb-free for too long."
"Look! A Care Bear!" Bethany pointed at a huge yellow bear on display at a game booth. "Can I have that one?"
"I can try." Heather pulled a wad of dollar bills from her jeans pocket. She purchased five balls for five dollars. Four times she managed to hit the stack of milk bottles, but they never fell.
The Undead Next Door las-4 Page 10
