Bayou My Love: A Novel

by Faulkenberry, Lauren

  “Hey,” I said, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  I grabbed his chin in my fingers and tugged his face toward mine. His brow was furrowed, his eyes glassy. “Look at me. You’re the bravest man I know.”

  He shook his head. “Remy has every right to hate me. We got into our fair share of fights over the years. He put me in the hospital once, and I had him arrested one time, but then it died down. I figured he was getting over it.”

  He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his lips, squeezing it tight. His eyes darkened. “I’d kill him if he hurt you. And I won’t give him another chance.” He kissed my palm and said, “I won’t leave you alone again.”

  “You have to go to the police.”

  “I’ve got no proof.”

  I felt my cheeks burning. “We can’t let him get away with this. He’s got to pay for what he’s done.”

  His grip tightened. “This is my fight. Not yours. I don’t want you tangled up in this any more than you already are.”

  “You have to tell someone. He has a motive.”

  “Everybody has a motive, darlin’. If you look hard enough.”

  “So what’s the plan? Sit around and wait for him to try again?” My eyes teared up. The thought of Remy walking around free, hanging this over Jack’s head and making us both live in fear was too much for me to take.

  Jack slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

  “How?”

  “Let me worry about that. Why don’t I run you a bath?”

  I was coiled so tight, it felt like I’d burst. It would take more than a hot bath to unwind from all of this, but the gesture was sweet. I nodded, and he kissed me on the forehead.

  When I heard the water start, I finished my drink and poured another. My hands still trembled. I stared at my fingers and cursed Remy, wishing that hexes were real, that I could get something from Duchess to dole out revenge. But wasn’t a thirst for revenge how we all got here?

  In the bathroom, Jack was sitting on the edge of the old clawfoot tub, dragging his hand through the water.

  “Maybe this will help you relax,” he said, standing. “I’ll leave you be.”

  I slid my hand along his cheek. “I thought you said you wouldn’t leave me again.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes filled with hurt and longing.

  My fingers drifted down his neck, down the center of his chest, following the trail of buttons on his shirt. His body tensed as I reached his belt and pulled him closer to me.

  “I just want to forget about today,” I said. “At least for a little while.”

  His hand rested at the small of my back.

  “I know things have gotten more complicated, but can we go back to simple for a minute?” I asked, slipping my hands under his shirt.

  “A minute, huh?” He squeezed my hip.

  “A night.”

  He traced his finger over my lips and said, “You know I want you desperately, but I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

  I moved my hands into his hair and gave it a firm tug. “You’re not,” I said, staring him down. “I need you, Jack. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  He leaned down and kissed my neck. “You know I’ll do anything you ask, cher. I’ve become helpless that way.”

  “It’s too bad your aunt and uncle are downstairs.”

  “I can be quiet. Can you?” He drew me tight against him, deepening his kiss, catching my lip with his teeth.

  I pulled back to catch my breath and murmured, “Undress me.” I lowered my hands to my sides, and he stood there blinking at me.

  “I like the way my shirt looks on you,” he said, undoing the buttons. When he reached the last one, he slipped the shirt from my shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

  He slid his fingers along my collarbone, down over one breast, drawing a line to my hip. As he sank to his knees, he pulled my panties over my hips.

  My breath caught in my throat as his eyes met mine. The mingling of tenderness and wickedness in them made my chest clench. He rose to his feet, his fingers sliding up my thighs, over my ribs, pausing over my breasts. I loved watching him look at me. I’d never been comfortable naked in my whole life, but with Jack, it was different. I wanted to stand before him, unflinching, with everything bared as I soaked up his gaze.

  “You’re curvier than any man deserves,” he said, his voice husky. “I could spend all night touching you.” His hands roamed up and down my back as he spoke, leaving my skin tingling.

  My hands rested on his shoulders as he pulled me against him. “I thought I lost you tonight,” he said. “I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

  “I’m right here… All yours.”

  He unbuttoned his shirt, saying, “Get in,” and nodded toward the tub.

  I sank into the water as he unbuckled his belt, shoving his jeans and boxers to the floor. His eyes were fixed on mine as he climbed in with me, sloshing water onto the tile.

  The water was steaming, soothing my aching neck and shoulders.

  Jack sat opposite me as he maneuvered his legs around mine. I sank deeper into the warmth as I took him in: his broad shoulders, his chiseled arms and chest. Each movement of his bicep caused the feathers of the bird to ripple.

  I wanted to catch those feathers on my tongue.

  “How’d you get so lovely?” he said. “I feel like I’ll go blind if I stare too long.”

  “Stop,” I said.

  “Don’t you know what a knockout you are?” He slipped his hand under my heel, his thumbs massaging my foot. “You could stop my heart with one look.”

  I smiled, leaning my head against the rim of the tub.

  “Mmm,” he said. “That’s the one.”

  I flicked my hand in the water, splashing him.

  “I always wanted to crawl out of my skin and into someone else’s,” I said. “I wanted to be thinner, prettier, have better hair.”

  “Good God, why?” he said. “I can’t imagine you any other way.”

  I shook my head. “That’s a long, boring story.”

  “Tell me,” he said, his fingers still sliding along the arch of my foot. “I want to know everything about you, Enza Parker.”

  I smiled, feeling my cheeks burn again. “I was a tomboy. I was invisible. Guys never liked me.”

  “I might have a thing for tomboys,” he said. “Good thing you didn’t know me when I was nineteen.”

  “I bet you were a hell raiser at nineteen.”

  “I plead the fifth,” he said, bringing my foot to his lips.

  “No fair dodging. I told you.”

  He grinned, his lips brushing against my toes. His stubbly chin tickled, but his kisses held me still. I loved the way his eyes drifted over me, as if drinking me in. I felt beautiful when he held me in his gaze, and that was something I’d rarely felt—if ever.

  “That feels incredible,” I said, and he grinned, fixing me with a sly stare.

  “Tell me something else about you,” I said.

  “Like what, cher?” His tongue was soft as a feather, tracing an achingly slow line along the arch of my foot.

  I closed my eyes. “Anything. Where you went on vacation as a kid, what your favorite movie is, the first girl you ever kissed.”

  “Orange Beach,” he said, sliding his teeth along my big toe. “Chinatown. A girl named Caroline.”

  “Tell me the wildest thing you ever did, Jack.”

  He grinned. “What if I said you?”

  I splashed him as he slid his fingers up to my knee. “Seriously,” I said. “I want to know all about you.”

  After a long pause he rested my foot on his shoulder and said, “You know, your grandmother saved me, in a way.” His fingers drifted along my calf. “I was a wreck in high school. And one day I showed up to cut her grass. I did an awful job the first few times, and then one day she brought me inside and gave me a glass of sweet tea.”

  He s
lid his thumbs behind my knees. “She said, ‘Mr. Mayronne, you’re going to have to straighten up if you want to do better than what people think you capable of.’ She had my number.”

  I nodded, thinking of those times she’d straightened me out too.

  “I started helping her around her house and supported myself during college. She always knew what folks needed to hear. She was a hell of a lady, your grandmother.”

  “What’d you study, mister cum laude?”

  He smiled. “Geology. I was a rock hound.”

  “How’d you go from rocks to fighting fires?”

  He shrugged. “I worked for the Forest Service for a couple of years. One summer when there were wildfires burning, they needed everyone they could get. You had to have a red card to help, so I took the pack test, got certified as a firefighter and did a couple of rotations in Texas.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “I liked it a lot more than geology. And I felt like I was doing something good.”

  “Do you ever miss it?”

  “Sometimes. It’s hard being gone all the time, but every once in a while I think of doing it again.”

  He slid his hand behind my knee, and I thought of him out in the wild, surrounded by flame and acres of tinder. I couldn’t imagine the fearlessness that would take.

  “How is it that we never met, if you were working for Vergie in high school?” I asked.

  “She knew me too well, darlin’. She knew that no matter how much I’d straightened myself out, I’d still be bad for you. I’d have been all over you like fleas on a hound.” He laughed a throaty laugh that made me want to climb in his lap. “And she wasn’t letting you near the likes of me.”

  “Come on,” I said, but the look in his eyes said it was the truth.

  “I saw you a couple times. I sometimes brought groceries over when you were practicing piano. You were banging those keys like Jerry Lee Lewis one day, and Miss Vergie caught me with my face pressed against the window. I thought she’d fire me for sure.”

  I laughed. “I’d forgotten about the piano lessons. What did she do?”

  “She just gave me that mama bear look and raised one of those penciled-on eyebrows, and I knew that was a line I dare not cross.”

  “I wish I’d met you then,” I said, trying to picture a teenage Jack.

  He grinned. “No ma’am, you do not.”

  “I’m awfully glad I met you now.”

  He eased my feet into the water, sliding his hands up to my knees. “Come here,” he said. “You’re too far away.”

  I slid to him, water sloshing over the edge of the tub. He turned me so my back was to him and pulled me against his chest, folding me in his arms.

  I wanted to stay that way all night, until the water grew cold, feeling his breath against my neck as he nuzzled me with tiny kisses, soft as rain. I sighed as his arms tightened around my waist. One hand slid beneath the water, between my thighs, and his teeth pinched my ear as he moved his fingers in tiny circles.

  “Jack,” I whispered, squeezing his thighs under the water.

  “What is it, cher? Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want.”

  I felt like I was leaving my body as he moved his fingers slowly, so deliberate in their grace. As I leaned my head back into his chest, he slid his prickly chin along my neck and closed his lips over my earlobe as he said, “Anything, cher. Anything.”

  I shut my eyes, pressing my body closer to his. “It scares me, the way I feel about you,” I whispered, placing my arm over his. I shuddered as the pressure in his fingers increased. “I don’t have the best luck with men.”

  His lips moved against my ear. “Your luck’s about to change, darlin’. Believe me.”

  And I did.

  His arm tightened across my chest. I could feel him hard, pressing against my lower back. Still he teased me, sliding one hand along the curve of my breast, his fingers pinching the nipple. I gasped as his other hand moved beneath the water, and I thought of how he’d appeared in my life in such a haphazard way. I’d never imagined meeting a man like Jack, and it saddened me to think of the little time we had left together. When the house was finished, I might never see him again.

  I pushed those thoughts aside, and told myself to relish this time we had together and stop overthinking everything. As he murmured in my ear, telling me the things he longed to do to me, I at last let myself relax in his grip, let him bring me the pleasure I’d denied myself for so long.

  He was the kind of man I’d once thought was too rare to ever find.

  He slid his fingers inside me as he nuzzled my ear, his scratchy cheek making me flinch with delight. Teasing me mercilessly with his fingers, he groaned as I ground my hips against him. With one arm still locked across my chest, he slid his legs over mine, pinning me against him.

  “You drive me crazy like this… so wild.” His teeth pinched my neck as his fingers quickened. “Come apart in my hands.”

  I dug my fingers into the hard muscle of his thighs as he began to move his thumb in tiny circles again. The more I squirmed, the tighter he held me, until my back arched and I saw tiny pinpoints of light. It was so hard not to cry out—I gasped as he held his lips against my neck, his hand stroking my thigh.

  My heart banged against my ribs, my skin tingled all over. I turned my cheek against his and whispered, “Jack, I love the way you touch me.”

  He folded his arms over my chest and said, “I could touch you every day of my life, and it still wouldn’t be enough for me.”

  ~~~~

  I woke up gasping. My throat felt like it had been squeezed shut, and my skin tingled as if singed by fire. In the dream I was back in the house, the room bright orange, the flames rippling over the walls and ceiling. But this time, there was no door. The orange washed over me in waves. All around, the beams creaked, the plaster crackled, the glass shattered.

  Jack sat up and slipped his arms around me. “Hey, it’s OK, darlin’, you’re safe.” His lips brushed my ear as he held me to his chest.

  My heart pounded so hard against my skin that it hurt. When I closed my eyes, I still saw smoke and flames.

  “It’s all right,” he said, stroking my arm. “I’m here.”

  I took a deep breath, hoping to drive away the smoke that lingered. “I was in the house but couldn’t get out. Couldn’t find you.”

  He lay back, pulling me toward him.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said. He draped one arm over my hip, sliding his fingers in a tiny soothing arc.

  For the moment, I did feel safe. Even though my house had nearly burned down around me, there was no other place I’d rather be. There was no other person I’d rather be tangled up with.

  Outside, the swamp pulsed with the thrumming of katydids and night birds. Jack’s breaths came slow and even, and soon my chest rose and fell with his, relaxing under the weight of his arms. I knew then that I didn’t want to rush through the rest of the repairs.

  I didn’t want to leave Bayou Sabine.

  I didn’t want to leave Jack.

  Chapter 17

  Mid-morning, we went back to Vergie’s. My stomach twisted up like a pretzel as we parked in the yard. The back of the house was still covered in ash, but the dog was stretched out on the porch like it was just another day.

  “You still want to tell me this place isn’t cursed?” I said.

  “It’s got nothing to do with curses,” Jack said.

  Curses might be easier to deal with.

  “When’s that inspector supposed to be here?” he added.

  I lifted his wrist to look at his watch. “Right about now.” I climbed out of the Jeep and walked to the porch. Jack had a distant look in his eyes, scanning the edge of the tree line.

  Inside, the living room was blackened from floor to ceiling. Bits of the hardwood floors and painted walls just barely peeked through the char. Holes from the firefighters’ axes gaped like wounds. It was much worse than it had seemed last night. The door fra
mes in the hall and kitchen were blackened, the ceiling charred. It would take weeks to repair this damage—if it could be salvaged at all.

  Now I saw why Jack had been so angry when he’d found me with the hose. I was shocked the whole house hadn’t gone up like kindling. I fought back tears as the door opened.

  Jack entered with a man wearing a shirt and tie with jeans. The man was already sweating, his cuffs rolled to his elbows. His bald head was pink with sunburn.

  “Miss Parker,” he said, shaking my hand. “I’m Nick Jacobs. Sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” He looked over my shoulder, already assessing the room.

  A surge of nausea hit me, and I thought for sure I’d vomit right on his shoes. Jack gave me a concerned look as I excused myself and returned to the porch.

  Outside, I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. It seemed my breathing was the only thing I could control. Stumbling down the walk, I sank to my knees and then lay back in the grass, imagining how it might feel if the ground ripped open and covered me. Overhead, clouds floated like cotton balls on a pale sky.

  After a few minutes, I heard Jack’s boots thumping on the porch, scuffing in the grass as they came nearer. He sat next to me, but for a long while he said nothing.

  “Just when I think it can’t get any worse,” I said, “it always does.”

  “We’ll fix this,” he said.

  I scowled. “Part of me wants to pack up and leave. Get in the car and drive.”

  He plucked a weed from between his feet, twirling it in his fingers as he stared out over the yard.

  “My father would love that, though. He’d love to rub my nose in this for the next decade.”

  “You worry too much about what your father thinks.”

  That’s when the tears started. The ugly tears that come with the angry cry that comes when you finally see the truth you’ve been avoiding.

  I couldn’t hold back any more.

  Jack stared across the yard, chewing his lip.

  Men never understand the angry cry.

  “I don’t know why I care so much what he thinks. Sometimes I wish I could leave everything behind—my job, my home—and start over with no father to impress.”