by Robin Caroll
“You resent that.” His muscles tensed. “You resent me.”
“No. Yes. Ugh.” She shook her head. “I did. At first. But not now.”
So that’s why she’d been so back and forth in the way she acted toward him. She didn’t like him at all. And she’d planned on using him from the get-go! Why hadn’t he seen her ploy sooner?
“Because you need me for this story, right?” Anger simmered under his skin. “A story that could make your career.”
“No. I mean, I do need you, but that’s not what I mean.”
He chose to ignore the lines of frustration digging into her face. She used him to get a story. Paying him back for winning the job she’d applied for. Stringing him along.
She’d made him care for her. Caused him to think he could fall in love with her. Foolish.
“Jackson.”
He glared into her eyes, not bothering to shield the disappointment and resentment. “What?”
“I realized something this morning.”
“Am I supposed to be enthralled by a revelation of yours?”
The hurt in her eyes stung him.
Lord, help me to forgive her as You forgive me.
She leaped from the chair. “Not that it matters, but I realized this morning that I don’t even want to be a reporter anymore.” She turned and rushed from the diner.
Running away—wasn’t that her modus operandi? The bayou, the newspaper, the sandwich shop and now?
Jackson tossed bills on the table and followed her. He caught her on the sidewalk, and grabbed her arm. “Wait, chère. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s me who should be sorry. And I am.” She lifted tear-filled eyes. “I really am sorry, Jacks.”
Her use of his nickname did the trick.
He pulled her into his arms, and lowered his lips to hers. She tasted like coffee and sugar. He deepened the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair. His heart found a new gear—warp speed.
Reluctantly, he ended the kiss, not trusting the emotional stirring in his chest.
Oh, he could get used to kissing Alyssa LeBlanc.
Very used to it, indeed.
NINETEEN
Alyssa stared into Jackson’s eyes. Their kiss left her legs feeling as liquid as CoCo’s gravy. She swayed for a moment, grateful his arms still held her. Strong, muscular arms.
She shook her head, clearing her mind. While still new at this whole personal-relationship-with-God thing, she knew the importance of keeping her thoughts pure. Very important. She let out a long breath of air. God, tell me how to act the way You want me to.
“I, uh, I’m—” His cheeks were an interesting shade of pink.
She pressed her finger against his lips. “Let’s not analyze this right now. Okay?”
He nodded, and she dropped her hand. “I really am sorry for not telling you immediately, Jackson.”
His expression remained soft. “Look, let’s take a little walk around the square. Talk a bit. The fresh air will do us both good.” He dropped his arms, but grasped one of her hands in his.
Well-built hands.
Stop it! Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
Alyssa walked along the cracked sidewalk, glee and giddiness worrying against common sense and restraint inside her.
“What’s this about you not wanting to be a reporter anymore?”
That threw cold water on her wandering thoughts.
“I did an inventory of my life this morning—where I am, what I want. I realized today I never should’ve become a reporter. I don’t like it. I fooled myself into believing I wanted it.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was an award-winning photojournalist at the Times-Picayune.” She teetered over a hole in the sidewalk, only to have Jackson grab hold of her elbow and steady her.
“And it was expected of you to follow in her footsteps?”
“No. I did that on my own. I guess because I wanted to honor her.” Or make her proud of me.
“But she was a photographer. Did you ever think of doing that?”
She laughed. “I don’t have the eye for it. Trust me, I tried.”
“No wonder you were miffed I got the job. You wanted the position because it was where your mother worked.”
“Silly, isn’t it?” Concentration became even more difficult as he rubbed his thumb along the backside of her hand.
“Actually, it makes a lot of sense. And helps me understand you a lot better.” He stopped and faced her. His movements were precise as he drew her into his arms and kissed her again.
She felt as if a feather tickled her stomach. Or a whole mass of butterflies had suddenly burst free inside her.
He pulled back, took her hand again and smiled.
His smile shook her nearly as much as his kisses.
“And in case you haven’t noticed, I really like understanding you.”
Alyssa giggled, the glee and giddiness winning the battle. “I like understanding you, too.”
They continued around the square, the morning sun shining directly on them.
“So, if you don’t want to be a reporter, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” Heat spread across her face.
“Come on, you must have an idea. Where does your passion lie?”
“I think about stories a lot.”
“Stories? You mean articles? That’s reporting, chère.” He chuckled.
“No, like fiction stories.”
“As in a novelist?”
“Yeah. Stupid, huh?”
“Not at all. Half the reporters I know have the dream of taking time off to write the great American novel.”
“I’ve got some ideas brewing around in my head.”
“Maybe you should try putting them on your laptop.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”
A comfortable hesitation followed before he spoke again. “How’s your grandmother?”
“Ornery as ever. Gotta love her.” A smile tickled her lips. “How’s the sheriff?”
“No official change.”
She caught the hope in his voice. “But unofficially?”
“One of the nurses told me that Bubba moved his feet yesterday in response to stimuli.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Well, the doctors say the reaction was just that, a physical reaction. No thought required to perform.”
“You think differently?”
“Yeah. I know God’s in control of the situation, and I have to believe He’ll bring it to closure for the best.”
The burning question nearly seared her lips. “And if He doesn’t?”
Jackson stopped and stared at her. “Huh?”
“If God doesn’t heal the sheriff, how will you feel then?”
“I’ll be sad, of course, and I wouldn’t understand, but I know it’d be part of God’s master plan.”
Wow. Unbelievable. “You’d still be of the opinion God was in control?” Memories of the anger she’d felt when her parents died assaulted her.
“Of course. Alyssa, we may never understand why things happen the way they do, may never understand this side of Paradise, but one thing we can always cling to is that God’s always in control.”
“I wish I could grasp that. I’m still mad about Momee and Papa dying.” Her heart clenched as more memories flooded.
“Here’s the thing about faith. You come to the edge of a drop-off and you know one of two things will happen—either there will be a ledge to step on, or you’ll sprout wings to fly.”
She closed her eyes, barely able to concentrate as he stroked beneath her lip. “Jacks?”
“Yeah?” His voice was husky.
“Could you find out what my mother was working on for the paper at the time of her murder?”
He dropped his hands, clenching his fists to avoid touching her.
Once again, she’d duped him. Made him think she cared wi
th how she’d returned his kisses. Made him feel as if they were connecting on a spiritual level.
Then hit him with a plea for help.
One that required the use of his job. The job she’d wanted.
Could her manner all be an act? Even saying she didn’t want to be a reporter? Man, she was good. Real good. Too good.
Alyssa blinked her eyes open. “What?”
“What’s her name?” he ground out.
“Claire LeBlanc. Jackson, what’s wrong?” She latched onto his arm.
“Nothing.” He shrugged off her touch. He couldn’t think clearly when she touched him. “Look, I have an errand I need to run. I’ll find out what I can and let you know.”
“Jacks?”
And he really couldn’t think when she called him by his nickname.
“I’ll call you.” He forced himself not to sprint the final length to his truck.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could he have believed she’d really be interested in him? She’d played him, and he’d gone right along with it. Every step of the way.
Stupid.
He slammed the truck’s door and peeled out of the parking lot. Lord, I need some help, here. He steered toward the hospital. He really needed to see Bubba, even if his friend couldn’t give him any advice.
The nurse on duty smiled as he passed her. Bubba lay still, same as usual. The beeps and hums of the machines soothed Jackson’s agitated nerves. He pulled up the chair and took his friend’s hand.
“Pard, I sure wish you could talk to me. I’m all messed up. Over a woman.” He shook his head and stared at a cracked tile of the ICU. “I don’t know how it happened, but I think I gave her my heart. And she stomped on it.”
Bubba’s hand shifted in his. Jackson loosened his grip. “Sorry, didn’t mean to squeeze so tight. I’m just so frustrated. I’ve never felt like this before.”
He took a deep breath, letting go of Bubba’s hand. Jackson rested his elbows on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. “I think I’m falling in love with her, and I don’t know how to stop it. I want to stop it. I think I do. I mean, she doesn’t really care about me, so why would I want to love a woman like that?”
Bubba gripped his arm and squeezed.
“I know, I’m just having a pity party and I need to snap—” He jerked his stare to Bubba’s face.
His friend blinked back at him.
“Bubba!” Jackson jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair, and pressed the call button over the bed. “Bubba, you’re awake. Can you hear me?”
The sheriff blinked rapidly.
A nurse rushed into the room. “What’s the mat—” She looked at Bubba. “Oh, my. I’ll get the doctor.” She hurried out.
“How do you feel?” Jackson grabbed his friend’s hand again. “Blink if you’re in pain.”
Again, Bubba blinked.
“Don’t worry about it. The nurse went to the get the doctor.” He squeezed the sheriff’s hand a little tighter. “Oh, praise God, Bubba. I’ve been praying so hard for your healing. God is so good.”
A doctor whooshed into the room, the tails of his white coat flying behind. “Please step back,” he said.
Jackson moved against the wall.
The doctor shined the light in Bubba’s eyes. “Mr. Theriot, I’m Dr. Wahl. I’m just going to look you over right quick.”
Once more Bubba blinked.
The doctor flitted over the sheriff, his hands moving. He spoke quickly and used words Jackson didn’t understand as the nurse’s pen flew over the chart.
“We’re going to take some tests. Are you comfortable? Blink once for yes.”
Bubba blinked. A definite response!
Jackson’s heart pounded harder than when he’d kissed Alyssa.
Thank You, Father. Thank You for this miracle.
“Once we affirm you’re to the next level, we’ll remove the tube from your throat. We’ll know more once the tests are concluded and we have the results. Do you understand?”
Bubba blinked once.
The doctor smiled, patted Bubba’s shoulder and motioned Jackson into the hall. The nurse lifted the phone and ordered tests.
“I’ll be right here, pard,” Jackson said before following the doctor.
“This is quite amazing,” the doctor said. “To be honest, I expected his organs to fail within the next seventy-two hours or so.”
Hope rose in Jackson’s gut. “But he’s doing well, right?”
“He looks better than we could ever have expected. We’ll run several tests and know more definitely then.”
“But he’s awake. That’s the main thing.”
“It’s difficult to say, Mr. Devereaux. We’ll need to see if he has any brain damage or swelling on the brain. His organs took a major hit in the assault and were put on a machine to make them work. We can’t be sure what lasting damage will remain until we get the test results back.”
No, God remained in control of this. Just like Jackson had told Alyssa.
“I understand what you’re telling me, Dr. Wahl, but I know he’s gonna be just fine.”
The doctor finally smiled. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because God’s holding Bubba in the palm of His hands. He is, after all, the Great Physician, and He’s still on the throne.”
TWENTY
“You’ll never believe it, Al.” CoCo rushed into Alyssa’s bedroom, her face flushed.
Alyssa set down the Bible. After Jackson had left her so abruptly, she’d had the strongest urge to read some Scripture. She’d changed into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt before diving into reading. “What?”
“The sheriff. He’s come out of the coma!” Her sister danced across the floor. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Incredulity mixed with the desire to believe filled Alyssa. “When? How?”
“God’s miracle. His healing touch. Our prayers have been answered.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A nurse called Luc while I was at his house and told him. Said that Jackson had been visiting, talking to the sheriff, when suddenly he grabbed Jackson’s arm.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is amazing. The doctors told Jackson they didn’t have much hope, since he’d been in a coma for so long.”
“I know. It’s all God, Al. He’s so amazing.”
Alyssa pushed to her feet, hesitated, then dropped back into the desk’s chair. “I’m at a loss as to what we should do.”
“Praise God, that’s what we do.” CoCo laughed. “Luc rushed to the hospital. He said he’d call later and let me know the details.”
She caught her sister’s happiness, laughing. “This is great news. We’ll know who assaulted him.”
CoCo froze, the smile falling from her face. “Oh, my. I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“What if his attackers find out he’s out of a coma?”
The same thought had crossed Alyssa’s mind, along with her suspicion of Martin Gocheaux’s involvement in the crime. His own deputy. If the nurse called Luc, she’d surely called the police. Putting the sheriff in danger.
Alyssa jumped to her feet. “We’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“We need to make sure they post an officer at the sheriff’s door. Not anyone with the local department, but one of those FBI agents.” Alyssa rushed down the stairs and grabbed her keys. “Deputy Gocheaux might be involved.”
“Should we call the hospital?”
“Get in. We’ll call from the cell.”
Alyssa stepped on the accelerator, spinning out of the driveway. Gravel pinged against the back bumper. CoCo jabbed the numbers on her cell phone. She let out a growl. “It’s busy.” She pushed the Redial button, then slammed the phone into the console. “Still busy. Does Jackson have any proof yet?”
Why did her sister assume Jackson would be the one securing proof and not her? Alyssa pushed down her inferiority complex, refusing to lose focus. A
s she steered the Honda toward the hospital, she relayed all she and Jackson had figured out.
CoCo shook her head. “And that’s not enough to take to the FBI?”
“Not yet. It’s all falling together in our minds, but we can’t make the physical connection.”
“You know, Felicia’s fiancé works on the dock. Maybe you could talk to him and see what he knows.”
Alyssa whipped into the parking lot, her mind stuttering. Jackson had said the sheriff set him up with someone working on the dock already. Someone who vouched for Jackson. Someone the sheriff apparently trusted. Could Luc’s future brother-in-law be the one?
They rushed into the hospital’s main entrance, passed the nurses’ station and slipped into the elevator. Alyssa jabbed the button for the fourth floor. “What I still can’t connect is if they are moving drugs, why didn’t the DEA unit with the dog find them?”
“That is odd. Maybe they aren’t smuggling drugs at all.”
The elevator door opened and they turned down the hall.
“What else could it be? That money dropped has to be payment for something.” Alyssa marched past the ICU waiting room.
“I’m working on trying to figure that out. Unless it’s a new street drug the DEA hasn’t made public yet. Takes time to train their dogs to pick up the new substances.”
A nurse stopped them.
“We’re here to see Sheriff Theriot,” Alyssa said.
“I’m sorry. He’s having tests conducted. No one is allowed inside right now.”
“Is there a guard outside his room?” Alyssa blurted out.
The nurse flashed a look of pure annoyance. “That’s really of no concern to you.”
“CoCo.”
They turned to see Jackson and Luc striding down the hall toward them.
Alyssa’s heartbeat hitched as the men drew closer. Her tongue suddenly felt as crisp as the garlic bread she’d burned.
Luc draped an arm over CoCo’s shoulder. “He’s awake and alert. They’re running tests now. Isn’t it a miracle right from God’s finger?”
Jackson didn’t speak, just pinned Alyssa to the spot with his stare.
The stare that probed deep into her spirit.
She dropped her gaze to the floor and studied her shoes. She slowly took in her attire. Faded jeans and a large shirt. For a moment, panic pounded. She looked like the hillbillies she despised. But then she realized she didn’t care what she wore or how she appeared. Right here, right now, none of that mattered.
