Bayou Sweetheart

“Just walk back into the house. Don’t you want to see what I’ve done with the gardens so far?”

“I know what you’ve done,” he replied, his back to her.

“How do you know?”

“I watch you sometimes.”

“I’m not so sure I like being watched. Why don’t you just come out and join me? Get involved? You could use some sunshine and fresh air.”

He whirled and stalked closer, stared at her, the look in his eyes going dark then changing, going soft. Before she knew what he was doing, he reached up and pushed her long bangs out of her eyes. Callie’s breath caught at the gentleness in his touch. It went against the grain of his hardened features.

“You have mud on your forehead,” he said, the words as soft as the night wind.

He pulled out a white handkerchief and started wiping at her brow. Callie grabbed his hand and their eyes met, and like a candle flaring in the night, something ignited between them.

“I can do that myself,” she said, too shocked to move.

“I know you can,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over her face. He held the handkerchief away then stroked it across her brow again, the crisp rasp of cotton scraping over her skin. “There.” He gave her the handkerchief then backed away, his eyes still holding hers. “I have to go.”

He turned and hurried back into the house.

And left Callie there, spellbound, as she stood caught between the lazy descending sun and the eager rising moon.

Chapter Four

“He grew up near here.”

That night at dinner, Callie recounted her talk with Tomas there on the terrace, but she left out the part about him wiping her brow and leaving his monogrammed handkerchief with her. And she left out the part about her washing the silky soft square with a gentle cleanser, her thoughts torn between returning it pressed and folded or keeping it, safe and folded away. Her whole family stared at her as if she were telling a horror story around the campfire. Except they were all out on the screened-in back porch of her papa’s house and it was a perfectly pleasant spring evening.

“Nick never mentioned that,” Brenna said, a crispy hush puppy making its way to her mouth. “But then, he doesn’t ask a lot of questions regarding Tomas, and he doesn’t gossip about his boss. It’s a company rule, so I shouldn’t have repeated what he’d already told me about Tomas having a wife who died.”

Papa frowned then scratched at his beard stubble. “Dat right dere sounds mighty suspicious to me.”

Callie felt his dark, knowing eyes on her. “He’s a decent person, Papa. He just likes his privacy. A lot.”

Brenna nodded in agreement as she chewed on the hush puppy. “That’s true. We have to respect that, whether we like it or not. Which we don’t.”

“I don’t like it, not me,” Papa said. He grabbed his glass of sweet tea and took a long sip. “Dere’s some talk around the marina about Mr. Delacorte. He’s bought up more than a house around here. Word is out that he bought the old shipyard. I hear he might shut the whole thing down. The town council will announce it this week, is what I heard. He’s up to something.”

Callie’s heart bumped against her ribs like a crab caught in a mesh trap. “Something such as?”

“Industry,” Brenna replied, clearly keeping some secrets for her soon-to-be husband, Nick, since Nick had to work late and wasn’t here to speak for himself.

“He mentioned that,” Callie replied, bobbing her head, her grilled tilapia growing cold on her plate. “Industry. That’s good, though, isn’t it?”

Alma glanced over at her husband. Julien looked from her to Callie. “It could be or it might not be, since we’ve heard he’s here to take over the shipyard and give people their walking papers.”

“Could he do that?” Callie didn’t want to see Tomas in such a light, but maybe she needed to see the truth. He wasn’t a hero from a romance novel. He was a real man with a real past and an obvious need to make money. A ruthless, secretive man. And yet, she felt obligated to defend him. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Papa shook his head. “De shipyard’s been in trouble for years now. De Dubois family still holds shares in it, but dey left it adrift long ago. Pierre’s hours have been cut. Julien had to give it up years ago and go back to fishing and hunting and taking odd jobs. We all have depended on Fleur Shipyard for a long time now, but times have changed.”

“We’re doing okay, Papa,” Alma said, smiling over at Julien. “Julien’s got orders for boats straight through till fall.”

“And Nick and Tomas are to thank for that,” Brenna said. “They’ve passed Julien’s name around enough to give him extra business. Julien, you might bring old-fashioned boat building back into fashion.”

“I can’t complain,” Julien replied, winking at his wife. Alma elbowed him and smiled. “We’re blessed.”

Callie picked up on their sly smiles and gentle touches. They sure were glowing for some reason. She supposed being married only a few months did that to people. She couldn’t remember glancing at Dewayne in that way, though. Maybe because Dewayne was never pleased with her, no matter how hard she tried to be a good wife.

You’re free from all of that, she reminded herself. Callie wasn’t the kind to give up, but she never wanted to be married again if it meant she couldn’t be the person God had made her to be. If she couldn’t dig in the garden or dance in the rain or sing at church or tease her sisters or eat pie just because she loved it, if she couldn’t feel free and clear and covered in the love of Christ, she didn’t want to be married. Ever. Again.

So being infatuated with a brooding, uptight, closemouthed man wasn’t such a hot idea right now.

But Tomas Delacorte did present such an interesting challenge. She liked it when people smiled. Liked being in a happy environment. She wanted to make Tomas smile. That would be her downfall if she wasn’t careful.

“We’re all blessed,” Papa said, bringing Callie back to the real world. “Dat’s all fine and dandy.” He pushed away from the table and started taking dishes inside to the kitchen through the open French doors. “I just wonder what the man’s up to, is all. Why all the hush, hush. I’m sure gonna be at dat council meeting dis week, I can tell you.”

“We’ll all be there,” Callie retorted, caught between loyalty to her town and a need to protect the man who’d offered her a lot of money to redesign his estate grounds. But she’d never been overly impressed with money, except for survival purposes. These feelings had to do with something more, as if God were nudging her to stand by Tomas. “We can hear the truth there.” She turned to Brenna. “Nick will be there, right?”

“Yes.” Brenna got up and followed their papa. “He’s involved in remodeling and renovating any properties Tomas might acquire, so he’ll be there. He has to be there.”

Was Brenna trying to protect her fiancé? Callie had a lot of questions. They all did. But in her heart, she believed Tomas couldn’t be as ruthless and uncaring as her papa might think. He’d thought the same about Julien and Nick, too. Papa just wanted to protect his daughters. And especially her, since he’d never approved of Dewayne. Of course, her ex-husband had never liked her papa very much, either. They’d often argued about her tight-knit family interfering in their lives.

But Papa had been right about Dewayne, she reminded herself. After Papa and Julien headed to the big den across from the kitchen and dining room to watch the evening news, Callie helped her sisters finish cleaning the kitchen.

Through the open screened window, the night sang a lullaby to her. Frogs croaked in a shrill chorus, a mourning dove cooed in a lonely response, a splash sounded in the water and somewhere high in the ancient live oaks, squirrels chased each other. Callie identified with each of these sounds, these reminders of God’s amazing world. The outside world. Her world.

She stood at the sink, staring out at the black waters running down beyond the house, her mind on the man who’d come into her life and now had a spot in her thoughts. Maybe even a spot in her heart. But she had plenty of room in there.

Alma came over to stand by her. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”

“What’s to figure out?” Callie replied. “I’m doing yard work for a strange man. That’s what I need to remember. The rest doesn’t concern me unless it affects all of us.”

Alma gave her a thoughtful glance. “But...you’re obviously smitten with Tomas, aren’t you?”

Callie laughed. “I’m smitten with the idea of a mysterious man coming to Fleur and moving into the house I’ve loved all of my life. I’m smitten with the chance to redo those gardens around that house, just the way I’ve dreamed of doing for most of my life. Beyond that, I can see reality. And we both know reality is a lot harder to do than a fairy tale.”

Alma held a hand on Callie’s arm, silent for a minute. Then Brenna walked up and put a hand on her other arm. “We want you to be happy again,” Alma said, her tone low and sure. “That doesn’t mean you have to settle for a man who’s handsome, rich, mysterious and single. Not at all.”

“Yes.” Brenna leaned up and gave Callie a quick kiss. “I mean no. No, not at all.”

Callie smiled at their pointed teasing. “I am happy,” she replied. “I have no complaints. I’m alive. I get a second chance. Life is good.” She gently nudged her sisters away. “Don’t feel sorry for me, and don’t try to force me onto Tomas Delacorte. I’m thankful. So thankful that I’m living and breathing.”

“We are glad for that,” Alma said. “So glad.”

Her sisters stared at her then glanced at each other. While Callie stood there, ashamed that she hadn’t been completely honest with them, and wondered what it would be like to finally be content and happy and in love one more time. She’d survived cancer and was close to her five-year anniversary. She thanked God every day for that.

But she mourned every day for the loss of her marriage. She’d missed a chance to be a mother, to have a family.