“Good, let’s go check her room.”
They went into the small bedroom near the back of the house. The scent of Bertie was everywhere, but somehow Adi found it comforting. She walked to the tall chifforobe in the corner where Bertie had her most precious things. The top was adorned with pictures of Bertie and Adi, Bertie and her brother, and Jacques and Adi individually. The top drawer held Bertie’s nightclothes, mostly full-length silk gowns. The second drawer had as assortment of knickknacks, a St. Anthony medal, several rosaries, some memorial cards from the funerals of family and friends. A small box with mostly costume jewelry. The third drawer finally revealed Bertie’s bible. Adi knew she kept some papers folded within its pages.
She carefully lifted the book from the drawer and sat on the edge of the bed with it. T’Claude dropped down beside her. They looked at the gilded cover for a while, both lost in their thoughts.
“Bertie loved the Lord, that’s for sure,” T’Claude said.
“Yes, she did. This book meant an awful lot to her.” Adi opened the cover and found the family genealogy page covered with names dating back into the early 1800s.
“Wow, a true family bible. That’s so rare to see these days. This book was held by Bertie’s ancestors. See here, that’s her mamma’s name there. And here, at the end, that’s you.”
Adi looked at her own name carefully inscribed in Bertie’s family bible. She claimed me as her own. She felt her chest tighten as the depth of Bertie’s love became clear. Adi had always felt like Bertie was her mother of choice, but now she knew Bertie had shared that feeling. She wasn’t just being kind to Adi; she truly loved her.
Adi flipped the page, not wanting to confront the grief that this realization brought. Several papers fluttered to the floor with the quick motion. T’Claude bent to retrieve them. He opened the first and read.
“This is her will. She left her house and her share of the Pot to you, as should be. We need to give this to her lawyer for probate. And here, this is a life insurance policy.”
Adi nodded. She couldn’t talk about it. She carefully continued to turn pages in the book. Near the end of Genesis, she found a sealed envelope marked “In the event of my death.” She handed it to T’Claude without opening it. That would surely have Bertie’s directives for her service.
“I’m going to go call the lawyer. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Adi kept flipping through the well-worn book. She turned to the New Testament and found several faded newspaper clippings folded into the binding.
“Father searches for lost daughter,” the headline read. June 20, 2007. About three months after she had arrived in New Iberia. The article was about her. Had Bertie known all along who Adi had been running from? Why hadn’t she turned her over to the authorities? Adi truly owed her life to Bertie now. The other clippings were dated later, the last in February of 2010. Adi was the subject of all of them. J.B. hadn’t given up looking for her. He still owned the bait shop, but wasn’t married to her mom anymore and lived in Morgan City.
She would burn those clippings. She didn’t want anything to tie her to Nerbass. That life was a lie. Her truth was right here in New Iberia, with Bertie and T’Claude.
“You should have that bible. Bertie would want you to have it. That’s why she wrote your name in it. I’m so sorry, Adi. I know what a loss this is to you, to both of us. I’ve been there and it’s not easy, but it does get better,” T said as he walked back into the room.
“Better? I don’t know, T. I haven’t ever hurt like this before. I just want to wake up and have it all be a nightmare.”
“I know, kid. Let’s go outside and get some fresh air. We can open the envelope out there.”
“Okay.”
They went to the wide front porch and sat in the rockers. Adi looked out at the azaleas blooming in the yard and the vegetable garden with its freshly turned soil. She would put in the summer garden, just like she’d promised Bertie. She would go on living, even if it hurt. She would do it because Bertie would want her to.
“You want to open this? Or should I?” T’Claude said.
“Go ahead and do it, T.”
He ripped the seam of the envelope and pulled out a few sheets of paper. He read them aloud.
“At this time, I know you are all being silly fools, crying and all of that, but don’t be sad for me. I’m going home, and it’s about time. I’m not in that empty shell you got there. I’m up here dancing and singing with my mamma and other folks I love. Don’t waste your time being sad for me. You all have things to do in that world. That’s why you’re there. Be sure and do them. Don’t be stuck. Let life take a hold of you and fly free.
Now, when y’all start thinking about how to send me off, here’s what I want. I want my pastor to get all fired up about the joys awaiting in the afterlife. There needs to be singing and dancing, lots of dancing. Don’t be burying my leftovers, now. Just fire me into nice clean ashes and send me off. You know where, Adi. Smile for me, laugh for me, and be happy. I know I am.”
Adi had to smile as she listened to T read. She could hear Bertie, and nothing in the note surprised her. She knew just the place Bertie wanted her ashes scattered. The Atchafalaya Basin, where she liked to canoe. She had shown Bertie the pictures she took there and knew it had been Bertie’s wish to be able to share that with Adi, but she’d sworn she wouldn’t get in some creaky little boat. This way, whenever Adi went to the Basin, Bertie would be waiting for her. She took to heart the message of Bertie’s note. To live free, not to be stuck. That was meant for her. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would do her best.
“That’s just like Bertie. Make us feel silly for missing her. She would do that. Are you going to be okay with a happy celebration? I mean, if you need it to be more solemn, I’m sure Bertie wouldn’t mind.”
“No. It has to be just the way she wanted. It’s better that way. It will help me break out of this funk. She always did know exactly what was good for me.”
“Okay then. I’ll call Reverend Peters and set up a memorial for her. Can you take the will and stuff to the lawyer? He said he’d wait at the office for one of us.”
“Yeah. I can do that. Thanks.”
“Good. I better go on down to the Pot and see if Jose has things under control. I hired a cook off Greg Landry, over at Iberia Kitchen. He should be ready to start today. Just someone to help keep things going.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you did that. I don’t know when I’ll be able to go back to work. I’m afraid I’ll hear her falling every time I’m in the kitchen.”
“That’s understandable. You take whatever time you need. We’ll be okay until you’re up to it again. What ever happened with that reporter?”
Adi hadn’t thought about Griffith since they’d turned off the machines. What had happened to her? She’d mentioned something in her voice mail about where she was going, but Adi couldn’t remember where it was.
“She’s still around somewhere, I think. I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon.” The thought of being held by her caused an ache in Adi’s soul. If she was still around, maybe they could fix things.
“Good, then. We’re going to need all the good publicity we can get with a new cook and no Bertie.”
“I think I have her phone number inside. I’ll call her when I get back from the lawyer and see what’s up.”
“I’d appreciate that. And hey, it matters to you too. You’re a partner in the business now. Regardless of when you come back to work, you profit if the Pot profits.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
After T’Claude left, Adi hit the shower and drove down to deliver the will and insurance to Bertie’s lawyer. She still felt numb and had flashes of grief, but she reminded herself of Bertie’s parting message in the letter, and it helped. Healing would come with time.
She thought about the last time she had seen Griffith. The walk on the coulee the evening of Bertie’s stroke. How she’d reacted and h
ow she’d told Griffith to get away from her. Had Griffith even heard her voice message apologizing? What if she hadn’t? What if she had no plans to return to New Iberia and had already gone back to California to write her article? Adi couldn’t blame her if she’d chosen to leave town. And that also meant she didn’t have to explain her past.
Fresh pain tore at her as she thought of never seeing Griffith again. Never stealing kisses from her on a moonlit night. She shook it off. No sense worrying about something you can’t control. She pulled out her phone and called her.
After six rings, the voice mail answered and she had to leave yet another message. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe Griffith was avoiding her calls. She could spend all day worrying, but it wouldn’t help a darn thing. Griffith would call her back, or she wouldn’t. Adi had done all she could. Time to move on.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Griffith hadn’t had any luck at Eloise Nerbass’s house. Apparently, the woman wasn’t in town. Just when she had paid her motel bill and was pulling out of the parking lot to head back to New Iberia, Randy Pecot called, letting her know that J.B. Nerbass had been delayed in Mexico and wouldn’t return until after his China trip.
“He wants to help with your story, though, and he’d be happy to fly you down to Mexico City to interview him. He’ll fit you in between business meetings. Shall I book you a flight?”
“Mexico City? I’m not sure if I can do that. Can I get back to you in an hour?”
“Of course. I know it’s last minute, but that’s how J.B. is. When he decides he wants to do something, he makes it happen. If you’ll just confirm with me by four this afternoon, I can get you on a flight this evening,” Randy said.
“Okay, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.” She was both anxious and excited. She knew there was a story here, one that would see her star rising again in print journalism. The worry was over how Adi would react. I don’t want to hurt her, and this is going to hurt, if I’m on the right track. She’s not going to accept that I went to meet with him and didn’t mention it to her. I have to talk to her before I go through with this. The fact that she was willing to discuss it with Adi told her more about how she felt than she’d realized. She never asked permission from anyone, ever. But Adi’s feelings, and safety, mattered more than her career ever would. She drove back up the coast to New Iberia. Hopefully, she’d be able to talk to Adi before she grabbed her bags from the hotel. When she arrived at the Pot it was still deserted. Why had they closed down? She drove to Bertie’s, dread building. The house was empty as well. Where is everyone? She called Adi’s cell again, but there was no answer and the message box was full. She called T’Claude and had the same result. This isn’t good. What could possibly have happened? She glanced at her watch. Three fifty. She had to decide what to do.
If something had happened to Adi, she was sure Bertie or T would have called. Maybe they were avoiding her because of her article, or because of her fight with Adi. But that didn’t make sense, as it wouldn’t be a reason to shut down the Boiling Pot. She didn’t know if she should stay and figure this out or take Nerbass up on his offer. She sighed and considered the options. Whatever was going on here, she wasn’t a part of it. But she was a part of the story, Adi’s story, which included Nerbass. She needed to follow her instincts and get to the root of Nerbass’s business dealings. This could help Adi in the end. There wouldn’t be another chance like this one.
She would be back in a few days and she could find out what had happened then. I wish I could see her before I go. I don’t want to lose her. She called Randy and confirmed her trip details, then packed her bags and headed to New Orleans. Then she called a friend in LA and let her know she was meeting a contact in Mexico. If she suddenly disappeared, she wanted someone to know where to start looking.
She arrived in Mexico City, more anxious than she had been in New Iberia. Something was wrong. Something big. She could feel it. She tried calling all the numbers again as soon as she was off the plane but had no luck. There was a driver holding a sign with her name on it as she exited customs. He whisked her away to five-star hotel and spa. A hotel representative greeted her personally and showed her to her room. The whole time, she wondered if Adi was okay and what was going on in New Iberia.
“Mr. Nerbass has instructed us that anything you desire is to be added to his bill. Please feel free to enjoy all we have to offer. If you need anything at all, here is my personal number. Don’t hesitate to call me. Enjoy your stay,” she said. She handed Griff an embossed card and left her to unwind.
She’d been told Nerbass would call her when he was ready for their meeting. She tried to relax and gather her thoughts, but her head and her heart hadn’t made the trip. They were back in Louisiana. Why can’t I get in touch with anyone? Does Adi even know I’ve tried to reach her?
She was playing the waiting game with Nerbass, and she didn’t like it. She had to pull it together so when she finally did get an opportunity to talk with him she wouldn’t give anything away. He couldn’t connect her to Adi. She’d made sure of it, and she’d rehearsed her story to sound as plausible as possible. By the second day of waiting, her nerves were beginning to fray. Her concern over Adi and the others was growing exponentially, and the urge to leave was strong. But this was important. She needed to find out who he was, behind the flashy veneer. She was certain he was the source of Adi’s fear, and she couldn’t free her without the facts. I have to stick it out. He’s scheduled to leave for Beijing in the morning. Whether he calls today or not, tonight I’m on a plane back to New Orleans.
She felt bad about the way she’d left things with Adi. She had every intention of talking out their disagreement, but her sense that meeting with Nerbass would give her a big break was overwhelming, and she didn’t want to miss her chance. And knowing she could help Adi, even if nothing more ever happened between them, made her determined to figure it all out. The past two days had given her ample time to evaluate Adi’s reaction and her own defensive stance on editorial control. Realistically, the situation with Adi was nothing like the one with Tabitha. No one was at risk except Adi and those she loved. There weren’t life savings involved, nor was she a criminal. At least, she didn’t think she was. In fact, her deceptiveness over her past was most likely purely protective. The locals she had talked with certainly made it sound as though J.B. Nerbass was a dangerous man.
Adi made her feel things. Things that went deeper than ever before. The way Adi’s smile made her tense inside and flush with warmth. The tingle that rippled down her body when they touched. Feelings she’d turned off after Tabitha. It was more than just a passing attraction, and Adi was worth the risk of being in a dangerous situation in a foreign country. It was theoretically possible Nerbass wasn’t the connection to Adi after all. Can I live with it, if I never really know where she comes from? The truth surprised her. She could. And she could write her piece for Dawn completely confident that nothing could arise from it that would harm her or the magazine. She trusted Adi fully. The question of whether or not Adi would trust her, knowing that she’d invaded her past even though she’d asked her not to, was another question. One she’d deal with as soon as she got back.
She looked down at her phone to check the time. Ten forty. She needed to book a flight back to New Orleans. She would be back in New Iberia before another day passed.
As she was gathering her things to pack, her phone rang and she was asked to meet Nerbass in one of the hotel conference rooms in an hour. She was glad the trip wouldn’t prove fruitless, but was nervous about the meeting. She let ideas flow as she showered and dressed. She wore her Armani suit, knowing that looking as sharp as possible with the corporate set paid dividends. The conference room door was guarded by a tall hulking fellow in an equally fashionable suit.
“Ms. McNaulty?”
She nodded.
“He’s waiting for you inside.” He held the door for her.
Nerbass looked slightly older but no less impressive tha
n the photos she had seen in the Morgan City headquarters. His dark hair, silver at the temples, was slicked back. He rose gracefully from a couch and held out a hand in greeting. His smile was warm, but his dark eyes were cold. He was shorter than she’d imagined, but trim and athletic. His hand was smooth and well manicured. He exuded confidence, but Griff found something about him repugnant. That’s because you have a broader view of him. Keep it cool. Be yourself.
“Ms. McNaulty. Thank you for taking me up on my offer of travel. I find it so very difficult to squeeze in time at home these days. Come, won’t you sit down?”
“Mr. Nerbass. Thank you, I will.”
“Would you care for anything to drink? Cocktail? Bottled water? No?”
“Thank you, I’m fine.”
“Wonderful.” He sat across from her, his hands folded in his lap, his head tilted slightly. “Randy tells me you’re writing about how losing a child affects a parent. Is that an apt description?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I find we focus so much on the devastating reality of loss that we overlook how it can change a person in a positive way. I’ve come across a number of stories where parents have made positive changes to the world because of that loss. Your story particularly intrigues me, especially as your business success came about after your daughter disappeared, and how you’ve made certain decisions in her honor.”
“And why does my story resonate with you? What is the goal of your article going to be? Am I going to be a beacon for other parents experiencing loss?”
Griff couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but she continued with a smile. “That’s a part of it, but there’s more. How would it affect you if your daughter returned after all these years? What would change? Would you accept her and welcome her back into your life? I know you’ve never given up on finding her. I know about the reward. Some of the families I’ve spoken to said they wouldn’t know what to do, or if it would change the things they were doing. What would you do if you found out she was still alive?”
Bitter Root Page 19
