Bayou My Love: A Novel (17 page)

He
slid his fingers along my shin, drawing a line from my knee to my toes. It
about set my skin on fire, but I tried not to let him see. I still thought it
best not to let him know how much of an effect he had on me. It was better if
he thought this was a casual fling. Better if I did too.

So
I sipped my wine, hoping he’d think the flush in my cheeks was from the Shiraz.

“You
might drive me crazy,” I said, “but I still like you.”

“Is
that right?” He finished his wine and set the empty glass on the floor.

“If
I were completely honest,” I said, sitting up straighter, “I would say it’s a
shame, this rule we have about not mixing business with pleasure.”

He
leaned closer, sliding his hand along my thigh. “It does seem to put
unnecessary stress on you.”

“I’m
beginning to think so, yes.”

“Right.
But we have this agreement.” His eyes seemed blue enough to drown in.

“We
could maybe add an amendment to this agreement.” I poured the rest of the wine
into my glass and took a sip.

“Go
on.” His other hand rested on the back of the couch.

“Here’s
my problem,” I said, sliding my fingers along his hand. “I can’t handle any
more complexity right now. And this thing with you and me, it’s all kinds of
complicated. So if there was a way to make it simple, maybe that could work.”

“And
how do you propose we make it simple?”

“It
involves another agreement.”

“I’m
listening.” A smile touched his lips as his fingers slid farther along my
thigh.

I
felt my cheeks turning red, but I went on. “We agree to keep this casual,” I
said. “No strings. No worrying about where this is headed. Just take it day by
day, moment to moment.”

He
stared at me, as if weighing the thoughts in his mind. “Keep it casual, huh?”

“I’m
not in a place for something serious,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Some days I
feel like I’m barely holding it together, and if one more thing swings out of
control, I’m going to lose it.”

He
took the glass from me and finished the last bit of wine.

“What
do you think?” I asked.

The
way he looked at me then sent a shiver down to my toes.

He
slid closer, bracing one arm behind me, cupping his hand under my cheek and
said, “I think you’re too far away, cher.” He kissed me, gently at first, then
caught my lower lip with his teeth as he wound his fingers in my hair.

Maybe
by making this casual, I could consider it resolved and focus on the house.
Sometimes you just need to feel another person. All the things that come before
and after, they don’t matter so much.

“Does
this mean you’re OK with our new terms?” I asked.

“Simple.
Casual. Got it.” He pulled me close, his hands sliding along my hips.

I
slipped my arms around him and kissed him until he groaned. The warmth of his
hands made me want the weight of his body on mine again. I didn’t care any more
about fear or regret. I just wanted to feel him.

He
stopped for an instant and gazed at me, as if trying to decide if this was some
sort of trap, if I was teasing him. I pulled him against me, kissed his neck
from his ear to his shoulder, and trembled as his scratchy cheek grazed my
skin.

As
I tugged at the buttons on his shirt, his hand caught mine, squeezing my
fingers, sending a current through my arms.

“I
like this new agreement,” I said. Forgetting my ankle, I swung my leg around
him, straddling his lap. He watched me trail my fingers along his chest, and
then he pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor.

His
breath tickled my throat as he said, “You’re about to like it a lot more,” and
kissed me deeply, sliding his hands along my back. He lay back on the couch and
pulled me on top of him.

His
fingers traced my ribs, tickling as they slid down to my hips. He pulled me
closer and kissed the hollow of my throat, drawing a line from my chin to my
breasts with the tip of his tongue.

“I
think about doing this to you all day long,” he said.

I
pinned his hands above his head. “Go on,” I said, nuzzling his ear.

He
chuckled in the way that meant he was about to do something deliciously wicked.
The warmth of his breath made me shiver as he mumbled something half in French,
and I gasped as his hand slipped inside my jeans.

I
flattened myself against him. His grip tightened, and he no longer needed to
say anything.

In
one quick move, he rolled us over. I trembled beneath him, my skin burning
where we touched. Like a reflex, I wound my legs around him, drawing him
closer. I peeled his shirt from his body, and he leaned up for a minute and
paused, like he was deciding what to do with me. I couldn’t wait for him to
touch me again.

“Tell
me what you want,” he said.

My
fingers slid down to his belt. “I want you so bad I can hardly stand it.”

Grabbing
my hands, he inched backward so that his weight was over my hips. My skin
tingled from the warmth of his hands. His fingers roamed over my belly, found
the curves of my breasts.

He
pinned my arms by my sides and said, “Stay.” He pulled my jeans slowly down to
my knees, then over my ankles, and I sighed as he traced his tongue along the
inside of my calf, up to my thigh. “I’m going to kiss all of these freckles,”
he said, his voice gravelly. “One by one.”

I
reached for his belt, and he let me unfasten it, unzip his jeans. He wriggled
out of them slowly—his boxers too—and then kicked them out of the way. As his
lips brushed the curve of my hip, then the swell of my breast, he laid himself
on me again, and I wrapped my legs around him. I loved the way he moved his
hands so deliberately, as if committing every contour to memory.

“I
don’t usually do this sort of thing,” I said, “just for the record.”

He
slid his thumb along my collarbone as he kissed my neck, the roughness of his
cheek making me shiver. “I can’t imagine why you make an exception for me, but
you can tell me later.” And his mouth closed on my breast, as softly as rain,
his tongue flicking against my skin.

I
gasped as he slid his hand between my thighs, moving his thumb in tiny circles.
Dizzy, I closed my eyes, gripping his shoulders as if I was about to fall from
a great height.

He
paused long enough to make me ache for his touch. I’d never wanted a man’s
hands on me so badly in my life.

“You
make me crazy, you,” he whispered. “I can barely control myself.”

My
heart pounded so hard he must have felt it in his teeth.

“Then
come here,” I said, and pulled his face to mine. As I kissed him, I felt his
tongue and teeth, and wanted him to devour me, taking his time. Sliding my
hands down his back, I grasped his hips. I felt him hard against me, and I
squeezed him tighter. “Jack,” I murmured, knowing I didn’t need to say anything
more.

Hearing
his name seemed to set him on fire. He nudged my thighs farther apart, and then
was inside me with one slow, unraveling maneuver that shook me to the tips of
my toes.

I
felt him everywhere at once, within me and around me; I felt desired, protected
when his eyes locked with mine. And I imagined those eyes fixed on mine for the
rest of my days.

“Enza,”
he said, his voice low. “Tell me what you want.”

I
tugged his hair, pulling his face to mine. Bracing his hands by my shoulders,
he moved deeper—a slow, steady rhythm that made my heart pound in my ears.

I
moaned his name, despite my greatest effort not to, my lips moving against his
ear. “Jack, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

His
lips curved into a wicked smile. “Anything you say, cher.”

When
I squeezed my legs tighter around him, he gasped. It felt like tiny waves were
rippling through my body, radiating to my feet and the ends of my hair. Though
I felt him in every part of me, it didn’t seem enough. I wanted more of him and
didn’t want this moment to end. His deep, slow movements were the ones that
unraveled me, and as he looked into my eyes, he teased me, making each roll of
his hips last as long as possible. He closed his eyes, still mumbling words I
couldn’t entirely hear. I felt more alive than I ever had.

Pinpoints
of light burst around me, like a meadow full of fireflies. As he thrust harder,
sliding his rough cheek along my neck, his fingers wound in my hair, and I felt
a jolt that threatened to rupture my heart. I cried out, feeling myself tighten
around him. My voice didn’t sound like my own.

His
movements slowed, and when I opened my eyes, I saw his faint smile.

He
kissed my lips, lightly this time. I slid my hands along his arms, feeling his
muscles tense with each movement.

He
groaned, pressing his forehead against mine as he went rigid as stone, his
muscles quivering. Then his body relaxed, and when he fixed his eyes on mine,
he traced a finger along my cheek and said, “You are the foxiest landlady
ever.”

I
laughed as he leaned up on his elbow.

As
the muscles in his arm quaked, I traced my fingers over the feathers of the
tattooed bird.

He
stared at me for a while, then at last said, “Say something.”

I
brushed my lips over his shoulder and said, “Two rooms down, six to go, Mr.
Mayronne.”

He
laughed a raucous laugh that made me want to pull him on top of me again.

“I
like this new amendment,” I said, sliding my hand back into his hair.

He
pulled my fingers to his lips. “I like it too, darlin’. Very much.”

Chapter
13

Stories
about the arsonist had moved from the front page to the third of the local
paper, replaced by an exposé on the new candidate for governor. Today there was
just a tiny one-column report. Eight fires, and no suspects had been named. In
a photo of the most recent blaze, smoke tumbled from the windows of a
warehouse. A half a dozen firefighters were in the frame, but if one of them
was Jack, I couldn’t tell.

I
was stretched out in the hammock on the porch, watching Jack work on the Jeep.
It felt like I was living someone else’s life—I’d woken up thinking that surely
I’d dreamed everything that had happened the day before with him. But there
he’d been, tangled in the sheets next to me, his arm draped around my waist.
I’d lain there awake for another hour, listening to him breathe, not wanting to
break the spell. He hadn’t woken up until the roofers had started up the circular
saw outside.

Now,
across the yard, he was on his knees changing my tires. He’d shed his T-shirt
back on the second one. Midmorning, and it was already so hot I didn’t feel
like lifting more than a coffee mug. Learning about car maintenance wasn’t a terrible
way to start the day, I figured. I might need those skills one day, so it was
important to watch him very carefully. Especially once he’d lost the shirt.

When
Jack stood and brushed himself off, I lifted the paper again, turning a couple
of pages just so he wouldn’t think I was lazing around staring at him. In the
back section, where the classifieds were, he’d circled a half a dozen ads for
houses to rent. Skimming over the ads, I felt my chest tighten. Across the way,
he set the jack under the last tire and started cranking. I tucked the paper
under my arm, grabbed my glass of water and walked over to him.

“How
about a drink?” I asked.

He
turned and smiled. “You finally joined the living.”

“I
feel bad watching you do all the work.”

His
eyebrow arched, a definite sign that some wicked thought had passed through his
head.

“Thanks,
cher.” He took the water and sat back in the grass, wiping his hand across his
brow. He had streaks of grease across his chest, down his forearms.

“How’s
it coming?” I asked.

“She’ll
be good as new in no time. Like a pony with new shoes.”

I
sat down across from him. “I see you beat me to the morning paper.”

He
took a long drink of water and said, “How’s that?”

“You’re
checking out other houses to rent.”

He
nodded. “Time’s slipping away, cher. I’m going to be out in the cold soon.”

I
felt the stab of something like dread and tried to make my voice sound chipper.
“Found any prospects yet?”

“I
found some of the sketchiest houses in the parish, and they were still asking
too much. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I may be going to a cot in the
firehouse.” He shook his head, then said, “Unless, of course, you were to take
on the position of landlord, and keep this beautiful house for your own, and
rent it to a fine upstanding citizen who can also be persuaded to pay you in
your favorite kind of favors.”

I
liked thinking of those favors. “Jack, we’ve had this conversation.” But then I
had another thought. “We’ve never talked about you being the new owner,
though.”

“What?”

“If
you like the house so much, why don’t you buy it?”

He
shook his head. “Doubt it’ll be in my price range.”

“I
wouldn’t be so sure. I hear the seller’s quite motivated.”

He
smiled, then said, “New subject. Did you see the other news in the paper?”

“You
mean page three?”

“This
arsonist is making us look like idiots,” he said. “How is it possible this guy
keeps slipping through our fingers?” He turned back to the Jeep, twisting the
lug nuts off. “They had a press conference yesterday and gave us about ten
minutes’ warning. We were babbling like shorebirds in front of half the town.
We’ll be punchlines by sundown.”

He
glanced at his watch as he wiped his hands on an old rag. “I’ve got to get to
the station in a little while. Have to do a two-day shift.”

“Maybe
those tires will still be working when you get back.”

His
eyebrow arched. “You see anybody skulking around here with a screwdriver, you
have my permission to shoot them.”

“Will
do.”

He
pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “Call me at the station
if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

“You
mean like if any more skulls show up in the yard?”

He
frowned. “I’m serious. The number’s programmed in there.” He whistled as if
calling for a cab. The dog crawled out from the shade of the cypresses and
trotted over to us, her tail wagging. When she sat at Jack’s feet, he knelt
down and scratched her ears. He muttered to her in patois, phrases I could only
half understand.

The
dog barked.

“I
hope you told her to go dig up my phone.”

“I
told her to watch out for you,” he said. He stepped over to me and kissed me
lightly on the lips.

“Really?”
I said. “That’s all I get?”

He
grinned, sliding his fingers down my neck, his other hand drifting along the
small of my back. “Any more and I won’t be able to tear myself away. If I’ve
got to suffer for a couple of days, so do you.” He pecked my lip, catching it
lightly in his teeth. “The best things are worth waiting for,” he said, his
lips moving against my ear. “Didn’t you learn that yet?” He swatted me on the behind
and walked back to the house.

~~~~

I
spent the rest of the day on the porch, working on the old banister rails. Pale
and crackled, they looked as spindly as fish bones. The house was coming
together on the inside, but from the outside, it still looked brittle, like it
might collapse if you stared at it too hard. Scraping the old paint off was
soothing—like shedding an old skin, making way for something stronger. The
roofers worked above me, their hammers pounding like a giant metronome,
counting down the days, the hours I had left to finish the house. I hadn’t
talked to my father since the dog ran away with the phone, and he was likely
itching for an update.

I
wasn’t too upset that the phone was submerged in the swamp.

When
the afternoon sun had moved to the far corner of the sky, the roofers climbed
down, their shirts wrapped around their heads. Though they were already deeply
tanned, their backs and shoulders were red.

“I
think we’ve got you all fixed up,” Wayne said, climbing down the ladder. “She ought
to make it another ten years or more.”

“Perfect,”
I said.

Randall
appeared with three plastic cups I’d brought out earlier. “Thanks for the
water,” he said, raking a hand through his damp dark hair. “We went through
ours fast.” He had a warm smile, like Jack.

“This
is my least favorite part,” Wayne said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He
lit it with a match and said, “I’ll go get the bill while the boys pack up.”

“If
I’d been on the roof all day, that would be my favorite part,” I said.

He
took a long drag on the cigarette. He couldn’t have been more than ten years
older than me, but he already had deep-set wrinkles around his eyes, no doubt
from baking in the sun. “This is usually the time when folks cuss me to pieces—when
I’m driving away.”

I
took the cups to the kitchen while the roofers loaded their gear into the
pickup. The two younger men climbed in the back and popped a couple of beers
while Wayne pulled a shirt on and strolled over to the porch to bring me the
bill.

The
rot had cost much more than I’d planned for, but it seemed fair. Especially
since they’d stayed through the hottest part of the day to finish on time. When
Wayne fell through the roof, I thought for sure the bill would double, if not
triple, but Jack must have worked a little magic on them after all. Maybe there
was something to be said for knowing a fella who was in the boys’ club.

“Thanks
for doing it so quickly,” I said, writing him the check.

“No
problem. A friend of Jack’s is a friend of mine.”

He
tucked the check in his back pocket and touched the brim of his hat. “You call
if you should need anything else,” he said, and strode back to the truck.

I
walked to the back of the house and stared up at the roof. The sun was just
sinking below the roofline, making it difficult to examine the work, but I
could see that the new patches of shingles had blended nicely. As I picked up a
few stray pieces in the yard, the dog came around the corner of the house and
let out a half-hearted bark. She stared off into the swamp, and when I followed
her gaze, I saw movement down in the cypress grove. At first I thought it was a
trick of the sunlight, but then I noticed a shape that looked like a person. A
person who was skulking.

I
took a few steps toward the tree line. Shadows from the cypress limbs moved on
the ground like serpents. The way the light played on the bark made it
impossible to tell what was real and what was not.

Then
the figure dashed out from the brush and slipped into the cover of trees. There
was no mistaking the silhouette this time—tall, lanky and two-legged.

“Hey!”
I yelled. The head turned in my direction for a split second, and then the
figure was gone. The dog bolted to the grove, barking as her feet thudded in
the grass. I followed, not thinking of who I might find when I caught up with
her. My ankle throbbed after a few steps, but still I ran. It could have been a
teenager or someone out fishing in the creek, but I had a feeling it was more
sinister than that. Pain shot through my foot with every step, and finally I stopped
a few yards short of the tree line. Whoever it was had vanished into the swamp.

The
dog’s barking was fainter now. There were tracks in the mud, big holes where
feet had sunk down deep. I hopped from one patch of weeds to another to keep my
own feet from sinking. I whistled for the dog but didn’t see her. The forest
was swallowing the last bits of the afternoon, the insects already humming as
the fading light lured them out. Calling once more for the dog, I turned and
limped back to the house, wishing I didn’t have to spend the night there alone.

Inside,
I ran myself a hot bath and dialed the station using Jack’s cell phone. Then I
hung up. I leaned back against the tile, thinking of how adamant he’d been. I
dialed again, and when he answered, I told him about the roof being finished.
Then I told him about the person in the swamp.

“I’m
coming back. I’ll get one of the guys to cover for me.”

“You
don’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

He
insisted, stubborn as a goat. But I knew he needed the money.

“Really,”
I said. “I’ll be OK.”

There
was a long pause. Then muttering that was half French.

“Please
promise me you’ll stay inside,” he said finally. “Do not go outside again.”

“Fine.”

“I
mean it, Enza. Promise me.”

“OK,
OK. I promise.”

“Call
the police if you see anything else.” The chill in his tone made me shiver in
the warm water.

~~~~

Even
though I knew it would keep me up all night, I searched the Internet for
anything related to voodoo. By dark, I’d combed through dozens of websites,
scrolling through shopping lists for spells, instructions for incantations, and
a variety of price lists for anything from simple consultations to all out
lay-the-whammy-on-you rituals. Most sites were clamoring for business from the
lovesick and the frightened. But every once in a while I came across one that
wasn’t meant for amateurs, or vengeful lovers, or people looking to get even. A
few offered some history of voodoo and explained what some of the things that
had turned up in the yard might mean. This also gave me the chance to check
facts against what Duchess had told me. So far, she was right in line with the
more reputable online practitioners, which was equal parts reassuring and
unsettling. Yeah, she seemed to be the real deal—but who wanted these things to
be real?

There
was a thump on the porch, and my whole body jerked. When it happened again, I
realized it was the dog. She pawed at the screen door, banging it against the
frame.

“For
heaven’s sake, dog,” I said, trudging to the door. “You nearly scared the life
out of me.”

She
peered through the screen, tongue lolling. When I didn’t unlatch it fast enough,
she pushed the door again.

“I’m
coming already.” I opened the door, and she bounded inside, skidding on the
floor as she ran into the living room and dove onto the couch.

“You’d
better enjoy your last few days of this,” I said.

As
I walked back into the kitchen, I heard Jack’s phone vibrating on the counter.
Pulling a beer out of the fridge, I ignored it, but then it went off again.
After it buzzed a third time, I thought it might be Jack trying to call me.