by Lynn Lorenz
»»•««
Thirty minutes later at the diner, Scott picked up his cup of coffee and looked over the rim at Billy. He’d promised to tell Billy what they were up against, and he couldn’t drag it out any longer.
Damn, this was so embarrassing.
“So you know my mom, right?” Scott started.
“Yes, sir.” Billy’s expression didn’t change one bit, and Scott liked him even more. He’d seen people’s faces flinch when talking about Mrs. Darlene Dupree.
There was no way to get around this. “She saw Jesus in the rings of that oak tree at the church.”
Billy sat back and whistled soundlessly. “Oh man.”
“Right.”
His best deputy leaned forward, his hands clasped around his coffee mug. “What’s our plan?” That’s what Scott liked about Billy; he could grasp the situation fast and take action.
“I want you to block off the parking lot. I want a man on the entrance at least during the day. No one can see it in the dark.”
“Right. I’ll make sure I schedule one of the guys, pull him off the patrol. It’ll thin us out, but until this blows over, we can deal with it without too many problems.”
“Sounds good. The festival is going to happen no matter what, but I’d really love it if we didn’t have a circus going on too.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad.” Billy looked hopeful.
“Maybe.” If his mom had anything to do with it, that was wishful thinking.
“Naw,” both men said at the same time.
They stared into their coffee mugs. Scott exhaled.
“I need to go and talk to my mother.” It was the last thing Scott wanted to do, but it had to be done. He had to nip this in the bud before every nut from the surrounding parishes showed up, wanting to worship at the tree. Damn his mom. He’d told her his department and the town couldn’t afford another disaster of her making.
The last time she’d seen Mary, the town had been inundated with pilgrims, camping on the sidewalks, urinating in the park, using up the town’s meager resources, without spending a dime.
“Guess I better head over there.”
“Sorry.” Billy just didn’t know what to say to him, and Scott knew it.
Scott stood, grabbed the bill, and headed for the counter with Billy behind him.
“Good luck, Sheriff.” Billy gave him a nod as he slid his hat back on.
“I’m going to need it.” Scott paid and then headed to his car.
Maybe he should swing past the tree and offer his own prayer.
»»•««
Scott pulled up next to his mom’s car and parked. He’d rather wrestle an alligator than confront her about her visions. The woman could be so annoying.
He glanced at the porch. As usual, the cat his mom swore she didn’t own sat on the railing, watching.
Scott got out and then went up the steps. “She’s done it again,” he told the cat as if it could understand.
Meowr, it said back. Yeah, I know, Scott translated.
He knocked on the door. His mom opened it. “Scott! What a surprise! What brings you out to the swamp? Where’s Ted?” She glanced behind him as if she expected someone to be there, then frowned. A small shot of jealousy ran through him; even if he knew being jealous of how much his mother loved Ted was just plain silly.
“At home.” He was still amazed at how his house had become their home.
The cat leaped down and moseyed over to the door, wound around Scott’s legs, and when his mom opened the screen door, it slipped inside.
“Get out!” She hissed and kicked at it. “Damn cat.”
Scott sighed. The two of them had been playing this game ever since the cat had shown up on the porch a year ago.
“We need to talk.” He took off his hat before stepping inside.
“That’s never good.” She walked to the kitchen, the cat threading between her feet, just missing tripping her. She sat and lit a cigarette. With a big exhale, she blew out a stream of gray smoke.
Scott sat and placed his hat on the table. “Mom, I saw Father Peder today.”
She winced.
“There was a small crowd at the church. I had to break it up. He told me you’d seen Jesus. In the oak tree.”
“Now, son.” She put her hand on his. “You know how I am. I’m a true believer.”
“Yes, I do. That’s all well and good.” He paused. “Mom, you can’t do this. For Father Peder’s sake, for the town’s sake, for the festival’s sake.” Scott could only imagine what Bobby would do when he found out about this.
“I didn’t do anything!” she insisted. “Father told me to keep a lid on it, and I promised I would.”
“Then how did those people know about it?” Scott ground his teeth, trying to control his anger.
She frowned. Took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled. “Muriel.”
“Who?”
“Muriel. From the church store. She was there when I saw Jesus.”
“You didn’t see Jesus.” He gave her a hard look.
“Did too!” She slapped the table. Okay, no way to reason with her there. He’d have to try another tack.
“So, Muriel was there?”
“Well, no. Not all the time. Father Peder sent her inside while he talked to me. Do you think she could have—”
Scott groaned. “Muriel.”
“That woman! She never could keep a secret. I’ll just bet she’d spread it all over the four parishes before nightfall.” She cut off at the look on Scott’s face.
“Maman,” he warned. “You’re not helping.”
She put her head down on the table, her cigarette still burning between her fingers. “I’m sorry, cher,” she whispered as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
He stared at her. He couldn’t blame her, not really. Maybe he’d been too hard on her, but he knew what she was like. The voodoo spells, the meddling in everyone’s love life.
Still, she’d done it all in good faith and with the best of intentions.
And her faith was what made her who she was.
And she was his maman. She’d raised him, alone, since his father’s death when he was just a kid.
He leaned over and patted her back. “Mom, it’s okay. We’ll handle this.”
She looked up, her eyes watery. “You’re sure?”
“Mais oui, Maman.” He slipped into the Cajun French she’d raised him on.
Scott rose and picked up his hat. “I gotta go now. How about breakfast tomorrow?” He wanted her to know things between them were the same.
She nodded, ground out her cigarette in the ashtray, and followed him to the door.
He opened it, turned, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
“Okay, cher.” The screen door closed.
He gave her a final wave as she stood there, watching him leave. The black cat sat next to her, licking its paw.
Chapter Eleven
Mark stumbled through the woods, running as if something was chasing him. Bobby followed, shouting, but a fierce wind stripped his words away. Mark’s flight took him deeper, past the point where solid ground and oak trees gave way to cypress and bog.
Bobby’s low growl rumbled in his throat, giving a warning to all others that this prey was his and no one else’s.
In the darkness he heard a splash, then a scream that set his hair on end, followed by the howling of wolves.
“Mark!” he shouted and sat bolt upright in bed.
Bobby blinked, chest heaving as he came fully awake. He was in his bed. It had been a dream. Only a dream.
He sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. The strange gnawing in his belly didn’t stop. He was awake, and the dream over.
Even after he showered, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to get to Mark. That Mark needed him. His mate needed him.
»»•««
Bobby slammed the phone down. “Merde!” The band he’d booked for the opening night
of the festival had just canceled. He had one week to find another, and he’d already booked most of the bands in the area to play on Saturday and Sunday.
He clicked on the Internet symbol on the club’s computer and then searched for another band. Deep in the heart of Cajun country he should be able to find a dozen bands, but he wanted good groups, well-known ones to bring in the people.
Bobby knew he should have called that band from New Orleans. They were a household name, but he’d have to pay for their hotel and travel expenses, if they were even available at this late date. He clicked open the spreadsheet of the festival’s finances to see if he could scrape together the money for them.
The door opened, and Scott walked in.
“Hey, Sheriff!” Bobby called out as he leaned back in his chair, grateful for the break.
“Don’t look so happy,” Scott warned. The man’s expression was stone-cold serious.
“What happened?” Bobby braced himself for bad news, his mind going straight to one of the pack members being hurt, and since most were cops or firefighters, it would be the most likely scenario.
“My mother.” Scott slumped into the chair in front of Bobby’s desk, which was really Scott’s desk when there was pack business. He took off his hat and tossed it onto the desk and then ran his hands through his short-cropped hair.
“Darlene? What’s she up to?” Bobby knew Scott’s mother well. Scott’s father, Justin, had been Bobby’s best friend, and he and Bobby’s older brother, John, had grown up together. Bobby winced at the memory of his lost brother but pushed it aside. Bobby had been best man at Darlene and Justin’s wedding, and when Justin died, Bobby had stepped in as a father figure for Scott.
Oh, yeah, he knew all about Darlene. The woman was a handful, and frankly, he suspected she had powers no one wanted to believe she really had, even if they acted as if she did have them.
“She saw Jesus in the oak tree at the Catholic church.” Scott didn’t have to explain which tree; Bobby had been going to St. Jerome Catholic Church his entire life. He’d climbed that old oak as a kid, right along with Scott’s dad.
Bobby blew out his breath. “That’s not good. Who’d she tell?”
“She hasn’t told anyone. Father Peder made her promise, but Muriel, the lady who runs the store, was there, and it looks like she’s been blabbing.”
Bobby groaned. “And?” He knew there had to be more.
“I drove by today, and there was already a small crowd. I had to move them along.”
“You remember last time, right? You’re going to have to get on top of this before it gets out of control, son.” Good thing Scott had never resented Bobby giving him advice about the job. As former sheriff, Bobby had about twenty-five years of experience to draw on, and Scott had always appreciated it.
“How could I forget? I’ve talked to Mom, and she swears she won’t say a word about it. Now I’m on my way to speak to Muriel and see if I can’t put my finger in the dike and stop the flow.”
“It’s probably too late.” Bobby shrugged. “Might as well prepare for it.” He chuckled.
Scott smirked. “Don’t laugh at me, old man. Did you forget the festival is on church grounds and that damn tree is sitting right in the middle of it?”
Bobby cursed and put his face in his hands. This was bad. So bad.
“If this gets out of hand, it could ruin the festival.” He thought of all the money they’d have to pay out if the festival had to be canceled. For the bands, they wouldn’t have to pay the full contract price, just the deposits, he thought, but he’d have to check on the contracts. But the carnival rides? He made a note to check those out also.
“Look, I’m going to do my damnedest to keep that from happening, but I just wanted you to know.” Scott’s expression said, Glad it’s you and not me.
“I know you will, Scott.” Bobby nodded. “If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sheriff.” Scott stood.
“Hey, how’s Ted?” Bobby asked.
“Great. He’s painting. Only comes out of his studio for meals and se—” Scott cut himself off.
Bobby laughed. “TMI!”
“Sorry.”
“I saw Billy and Peter the other night at the diner. Billy’s got his hands full with that little one.” Bobby winked.
“I know. Love. Go figure.” Scott grinned.
“The wolf wants what the wolf wants,” Bobby quoted.
“It sure as hell does.” And with that, Scott left.
Bobby frowned as he thought about what to do next. He grabbed his cell phone from his hip and flipped through the contacts until he found the number he needed, then hit it.
“Hello?”
“Ted, it’s Bobby Cotteau.”
“Oh. Hi, Bobby.” Ted’s voice grew cautious. He and Bobby hadn’t really spoken much, and never alone.
“Can I come by? I need to talk to someone.” He did, and Ted was the only gay man he felt he could speak to without it being weird.
“Uh, sure. When?”
“If it’s no trouble, how about in an hour?”
“No trouble, Bobby. Come on out.”
“Thanks. See you then.” Bobby disconnected.
He didn’t know what talking to Ted would do, but he needed someone’s opinion. Needed someone to tell him he hadn’t screwed up with Mark and blown the best thing he might have had in his life and his only hope for…survival?
Bobby just didn’t think that was what Ted would tell him.
He sat back and stared through the office door to the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the outer meeting room.
He had a bad feeling his life was about to take a drastic turn and not for the better.
»»•««
Bobby edged his truck over to the side of Ted’s SUV and then parked. He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror and ran his hand through his hair. Why the hell was he so nervous? Talking to Ted was far better than talking to Scott or Billy or even Peter. Ted had been around the block a few times, sexually and relationship-wise. And of the other gay men he knew, he knew Ted the least.
There was something about baring your soul to a stranger that was easier than doing it with a friend. At least he felt that way. He figured that was why people talked to shrinks.
He got out of the truck and walked up to the house. Originally, it had been a single floor elevated on stilts to avoid any flooding, but since Ted had moved in with Scott, they’d closed in the ground floor and used it as Ted’s painting studio.
Bobby knocked on the door.
“Hello! I’m up here.” Ted leaned over the upper balcony and waved to him.
Bobby nodded. “Scott said you were painting. Just figured you’d be down here.” He walked around to the stairs leading up and started to climb them.
Ted waited at the top, a beer in each hand. “I was, but I took a break. Figured you might need a beer.”
“Or two.” Bobby smiled as he reached the porch and took the bottle of beer Ted held out for him. “Thanks.”
Ted motioned to the narrow porch and the two chairs sitting there. “Here fine?”
“Sure.” Bobby sat and looked out into the woods. “Nice view.”
“It is. I’ve painted it enough times in the last six months.” Ted chuckled. “I know you didn’t come here to talk about my painting.”
“No, I didn’t.” Bobby swallowed down a mouthful of beer.
“In fact, I wondered how long it would take you to show up on my doorstep.” Ted winked at him.
“Huh?”
Ted leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Christ, man. You’re what, fifty? And you’re gay and just being allowed to act on that.” Ted shook his head. “I know I’d be messed up and needing to talk to someone.”
Bobby let his head fall back and looked up into the sunlight filtering through the large oaks. “Yeah. Well.” He took another sip. “I do need to talk.”
“Shoot. Anything you say is
between us.” Ted gave him a look that said he meant it, and Bobby believed him.
“So, you know, I’m gay.” Bobby cleared his throat. “But I was mated and married to a woman. My wife was wonderful and she was my mate and I loved her.”
Ted nodded.
“But she’s dead. And for the first two years I just grieved, I suppose, but mostly I was frightened.” Bobby picked at the label on the bottle.
“I get that.” Ted took another sip, but didn’t say anything more. In a way, it encouraged Bobby to keep talking.
“I wondered if I’d ever find another mate. It scared me. I don’t want another mate, not if it’s another woman.” Bobby exhaled. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved my wife. Adored her. I never strayed. Well, you know that’s sort of moot. Once we’re mated it’s over for us. No one but our mates.” He shrugged.
Ted grinned. “One of the best things about werewolves, if you ask me. I never have to worry about Scott.”
“Exactly. Only I was scared I would find another woman. My wolf claimed a woman once. He’d do it again, right?”
“Maybe.” Ted put his bottle down on the table between the chairs. “Look. I don’t know how all this werewolf shit works. Scott was straight until he met me and discovered his wolf was gay. I’ve always been gay. But you’re sort of the opposite of Scott. Maybe this time, it’ll be a guy.”
“Funny you should say that.” Bobby looked at his hands. “I met someone. A guy. And I think he’s my mate.” He put his face in his hands to hide what he knew must be showing on his face.
“That’s great!”
“Yeah. You’d think.” Bobby pulled his hands away and leaned back.
“You picked him up? At a bar? Here?” With each question Ted’s voice rose higher.
“Yeah. I picked him up, or really he picked me up. At a bar in Lake Charles. At one of the casinos. We’ve spent a couple of weekends together.” Bobby picked up his beer and finished it off.
“Okay. So, what’s the problem?”
“I was so stupid, man. We agreed no names. So I don’t know his name. Well, I know his first name. At least I think it’s his real name. But not his last name.” Bobby groaned.
“Oh. Crap.” Ted groaned.
Bobby shot to his feet as he slammed his hands down onto the porch railing. “Fuck! How could I have been so stupid? I let him go. I let him walk away.”
