Under the Autumn Sky

Nate had worked with the St. Martin Parish detective unit for over ten years, and when he’d received the file on Sally Cheramie, he had known they’d finally gotten a lead on Della’s disappearance. It had almost been too much to hope for, but Nate said when he saw Sally Cheramie for the first time, he knew he’d found his sister.

Sally had her twin brother Darby’s eyes—uniquely violet-blue—and mirrored the young Picou in her wedding portraits. But physical similarities only went so far. Sally wouldn’t open up to them and the gulf between her and the family never seemed to shrink.

“I certainly wish Darby could be here,” Picou sighed, patting Sally’s hand. Sally swallowed and Abram could see she wanted to move her hand. The girl they’d once called Della was like a cat in a room of rockers when she was among the Dufrenes. “He’ll be home before too long, and he can’t wait to see you.”

Nate turned from the sideboard and glanced at his sister.

Sally tried to smile. “It’ll be nice to meet him finally. Well, I suppose it’s more like see him again. When does he resign his commission?”

She spoke with a heavy accent—a distinct dialect spoken by the people inhabiting the bayou south of Cutoff, Louisiana. With a slender frame, long dark hair and bright blue eyes, Sally drew people to her with quiet, unassuming beauty. The woman who raised her had pushed her to excel in school so she might leave the bayou and spread her wings. Sally had used the education she’d gained at ULL to become a teacher, and currently taught second grade in the school she’d once attended in Galliano. She hadn’t stretched her wings very wide, and instead clung to the community and the still-ill Enola Cheramie.

He wondered if she would ever accept being the long-lost Della Dufrene.

“Do you not remember Darby at all, Sally?” Annie asked, setting a dessert plate in front of Abram. He looked at the huge piece of cake. He’d be doing an extra mile tomorrow morning for this indulgence. He picked up the fork.

Sally frowned. “Not really, though I must have missed him when I was little. I called my blankie Dobby.”

Abram listened with half an ear after that. What lay ahead for him had his stomach twisting. He couldn’t put to bed all that had passed earlier that week—not with an early morning meeting with compliance and the director of recruiting on Monday. Afterward, he’d face Coach Holt before the man headed out to Bristol to film a commercial for ESPN. Abram didn’t want to see the disappointment in his mentor’s eyes.

After having a brush with the NCAA over the use of a shady recruiting service and allegations of “pay for players,” the powers-that-be at ULBR were gun-shy about any other incidents popping up within the program. Small things could be dealt with. They happened. But a newsworthy splash like a sex scandal would do lasting damage and jeopardize the reputation of a program, not to mention cost things like scholarships and bowl games. And all Abram had intended for himself, all his dreams of one day becoming a head coach of a Division I team, would come crashing down around him.

Abram wished it would all go away. Wished he could undo missing the damn exit and stopping for a beer. Wished he’d told Mary Belle an emphatic no when she’d asked him to pretend to be Louise’s date.

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Or at least that’s what Lucille had always told him when he wished for cookies, something fun to do or better grades on his report card.

Lucille winked at him. He’d always had a special bond with the Dufrene family housekeeper. There was a woman who “got” him. And a woman who’d fed him, counseled him and swatted him on his backside when he got too uppity.

“Abram, you’re quiet as a sinner in church tonight. Hellcat run away with your tongue?” Lucille’s gap-toothed smile prodded him to enter the fray. Hellcat was the ragged-ear tom that appeared last month yowling for a bowl of scraps and saucer of milk every night. No one seemed to own Hellcat. Couldn’t catch him long enough to mark him with ownership.

“Sorry. Lots on my mind. The job.”

“Saw the spring game. Matt Vincent has some work to do. Missed more receivers than he hit.” Nate slapped another piece of cake on his own plate. “Damn, this is better than sex, Lucille.”

Lucille looked at Annie. “You must be doing something wrong, child.”

Annie nearly choked on her coffee.

Picou laughed, Lucille cackled and even Sally looked mildly amused.

“Behave, Lucille. She hasn’t married me yet and I don’t want you scaring her off with your uncouth ways.” Nate grinned, sliding his eyes to his fiancée. She lifted an eyebrow and Abram felt the love between the two of them. Nice to see Nate happy.

Nate looked back at Abram, refusing to let him fade into the background. When it came to his family Abram had always liked the background. If he stayed quiet long enough, sometimes they forgot about him. Suited a lone wolf like him just fine. Or at least most of the time. “So, what’s up with Vincent?”

Abram shrugged. “Ask Monty. He’s the quarterback coach.”

“Yeah, I’ll get him on the horn. I have him on speed dial,” Nate drawled as Annie elbowed him. “Aren’t you an offensive coach? Shouldn’t you know?”

“You didn’t hear? I’m the water boy.”

“Come on, boys, let’s not start,” Picou warned, her fork clattering on the china.

Abram snapped his mouth closed and tried to figure some way to get out of there early. His mother was to open gifts after dinner. Abram never knew what to give her, so he’d purchased a gift certificate from a Baton Rouge salon. Standard son gift—not creative, but useful.

“When are we opening gifts?” Annie asked, nudging Nate again. His soon-to-be sister-in-law was perky, fit and pretty with brown curly hair and clear gray eyes. She was a former FBI agent and had met Nate while on an assignment in Bayou Bridge. Five months ago, after finding Della, they’d formed a partnership in a private investigations firm specializing in unsolved murders. Using grants and Nate’s savings, they’d hit the ground running, solving a case in Alexandria that had put them in the spotlight and brought more business their way.

Annie had been good for his brother if the smiles were any indication. Before Annie, Nate had rarely smiled. After Annie, he sometimes resembled a blooming idiot.

“Let’s go into Picou’s sitting room,” Lucille suggested, scooting her chair back and grunting as she rose. “You come on with me, Miss Sally girl. I found something of yours the other day when I was cleaning out the cabinets in there.”

Lucille didn’t wait on Sally. She waddled out and expected everyone to follow. Like sheep they moved their chairs back.

“Hold on,” Nate mumbled, shoving the last bite into his mouth.

The sitting room was like every room in the house, filled with posh antiques that had been well used. The fabrics on the chairs and window had been expensive and well maintained, if not out of style by fifteen or twenty years. Family pictures squatted between costly oils and original sculptures. The carpet on the floor was a threadbare Aubusson.

Sally perched on the end of the couch, holding a worn-out-looking pacifier, presumably Lucille’s great find. She picked up a gift wrapped in floral paper with a large fluffy-looking bow. “This is from me.”

Picou sat in her normal overstuffed armchair and took the gift. Love shone in her eyes when she looked at Sally. “It’s wrapped so pretty.”

Sally rubbed the material of her skirt between her fingers and gave up a smile.

Picou opened the gift while everyone found a comfortable spot. His mother lifted the lid. “Oh, my.”

“What is it?” Lucille craned her head, and Abram noticed her wig was on crooked.

“Look.” Picou picked up a small painted canvas and held it aloft. It portrayed a sunset on the swamps and was rather well done. His mother looked at Sally. “Did you do this?”

Sally nodded. “I dabble around with painting every once and while. I thought it suited you.”

Picou wiped tears from her cheeks with hands that bore more rings than necessary. His mother liked drama, wearing caftans, crazy feathers and ribbons in her soft gray hair and ornamenting herself like a palm reader at the state fair. She should have looked ridiculous. Okay, sometimes she did look a bit kooky, but it suited her. “Thank you, dear. I shall always treasure it.”

Sally kept fiddling with her hem but managed another smile.

Annie handed Picou another small gift. “From us.”

Abram could tell it was a gift certificate. He hoped they hadn’t bought one to a spa. Rain on his parade, and all that. Nate constantly one-upped him on gift-giving.

Picou pulled the red ribbon from the polka-dotted box. “This will make a good hair bow.” She tucked it beneath her thigh.

Abram felt excitement radiating off Nate and Annie as Picou lifted the lid. Maybe they’d gotten her a trip? If they did, he’d be pissed. He’d once mentioned sending her on a cruise, and Nate had freaked over the expense. If Nate went and trumped everyone with a trip somewhere, he’d—

“A grandmother’s brag book?” His mother’s eyebrows knitted together as she lifted the pink-and-blue photo book from the tissue paper. She flipped the book open and stared at a grainy-looking black picture. Two or three seconds tripped by.

“Oh, my God!” Picou reared back against the chair, her eyes wide, her mouth open. “Is that—is that—”

Annie started giggling and Nate just smiled.