Bayou Heat (25 page)

So Lana would be the one to tarry, and lose her chance at love.

“The poem’s nice, but it’s not very helpful,” Lana pointed out. “I want a name. How
will I know my future husband when I meet him?”

Theodora smiled. “No problem. Everyone who has
her fortune told by Theodora gets a souvenir. These mementos will help you recognize
the man who will make you happy.” She reached under the table and pulled out a cardboard
box that appeared to be filled with gum-machine toys and other plastic junk. She rummaged
around in it for a moment, then held out her hand toward Callie.

Callie, her expression still filled with skepticism, nonetheless reached out and accepted
Theodora’s gift. It was a plastic key chain in the shape of a cowboy boot.

Lana bit her lower lip. Did this fortune-teller, this stranger, somehow know about
Callie’s Sam, who worked at his great-uncle’s ranch?

“I’m not marrying anyone who wears cowboy boots,” Callie said, folding her arms. Theodora
merely gave her a knowing smile.

Lana actually trembled as Theodora handed her a “souvenir,” hoping to get an equally
clear directive, but it didn’t make much sense to her. It was a cheap toy policeman’s
badge.

Theodora had to search a bit longer for something to give Millicent. She finally came
up with a small bottle made of brown glass. Lana had seen such bottles in antique
shops.

As the three girls studied their gifts, Theodora quietly stood and walked to the back
of her booth.

“Hey, where’d she go?” Callie asked.

Lana pointed to the wavering curtain in the rear of the booth. “Back there.”

Callie lunged forward, with Lana hot on her heels
and Millicent close behind. Callie pulled back the curtain, but no one was there.

The girls stepped outside the booth, looked around corners, under tables. There was
no glimpse of Theodora.

“This way!” Callie suddenly said, pointing toward the back door of the gym. They all
three took off at a run in hot pursuit of the fortune-teller. But outside, again they
found no sign of her.

“I knew it,” Callie said, breathing hard. “I knew she was some kind of charlatan.”

“I didn’t think she was so bad,” Lana said. “She told our fortunes for free.”

“We’ll have to go to Mr. Stipley,” Callie said. “Something’s definitely fishy.”

They went back into the gymnasium, but almost before the door slammed behind them,
Callie skidded to a stop so suddenly that Lana ran into her, and Millicent did the
same. Lana imagined they resembled the Keystone Kops.

“Look,” Callie whispered. She pointed toward Theodora’s booth—or, rather, the place
where Theodora’s booth had stood a minute or two earlier. Now there was no sign of
red silk or glitter. A dart game occupied the space.

The three girls stared at one another, and Lana felt a prickling of fear. Her friends
had to be thinking the same thing she was—that there was no way anyone could have
moved Theodora’s booth that quickly.

“D-did we just have a group hallucination?” Millicent squeaked. Her face was downright
pasty.

Lana opened her hand. The tin policeman’s badge glittered bewitchingly at her, mute
testimony to the fact that she hadn’t dreamed her visit with Theodora. She saw that
her friends still had their prizes too.

“I’m not sure what it was,” Callie said. “But I don’t think we should tell anyone
about it.”

“Agreed,” the other two girls said together. They all clasped hands. Lana felt a shiver,
and she knew that what had just transpired would somehow prove to be very important
in her life.

Rain poured down on the windshield in murky sheets. Lana Gaston flipped the wipers
up to high, continuing her creep along the dark, narrow lane that led to St. Theresa’s
Church. She would have pulled her Mercedes onto the nearest side street to wait out
the storm, but she was already running late, and she loathed the idea of her tardiness
holding up the wedding.

“Think we’ll have a tornado?” her eight-year-old son asked hopefully, tugging at the
collar of the new button-down shirt she’d coerced him into wearing. “That would be
really cool.”

“It’s a little late in the year for tornadoes,” Lana answered. Then she smiled. Given
the turbulent relationship between the bride and groom, a tornado for their wedding
would be almost apropos.

She glanced skyward. “Just kidding,” she murmured toward heaven. “I don’t really want
a tornado.
In fact, I’d really really appreciate it if you’d let up on the rain a little so I
can make it to the church.”

The only response she got was a rabbit darting across the road in front of her. She
slammed on the brakes. The aging Mercedes skidded on the slick pavement, performing
a perfect one-eighty while Lana struggled with the steering wheel for control.

Her efforts were useless. After what seemed like an eternity of screeching tires and
dizzying maneuvers, the car ended up nose down in a culvert, facing the wrong way.

The engine died with a groan. For several seconds all Lana could hear was the rain
pounding on her roof and her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Rob, are you okay?”

“Awesome driving, Mom.”

“Hey, we’re alive, aren’t we?” she snapped back, relief warring with frustration.
“Did you want me to run over the bunny rabbit?”

“No, I guess not. Sorry.”

She immediately regretted her temper. Rob, unfortunately, was only parroting his father,
using the tone of voice and the sarcasm Bart would have used if he were there. “No,
sweetie, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just upset about being late for Callie’s wedding.”

“Can’t you call her on the cellular?”

“The cell phone isn’t working right now,” Lana confessed. She’d had to cancel her
contract because she couldn’t afford it anymore. It seemed like lately she couldn’t
afford a whole lot, not since Bart’s child support payments had been so drastically
reduced. She
couldn’t blame him. She’d agreed to the payment schedule during their divorce. It
was just that she’d thought she would have a better job by now, and her school tuition
and books ate up a lot of her income.

“Maybe we can walk the rest of the way,” Rob suggested.

Lana appreciated the fact that her son was trying to solve the problem. “We could
if it weren’t raining so hard. I refuse to show up for Callie and Sam’s wedding looking
like a drowned rat.”

Rob sighed. “I wish you’d just let me stay at Dad’s instead of coming to this stupid
wedding.”

“We’ve been planning this for a long time,” Lana explained patiently. “Your dad has
plans this weekend, remember? It’s Charlene’s birthday.” Charlene being his former
secretary and current applicant for wife number two.

“Big deal. Why didn’t you just leave me at home with a sitter, then? I’m missing
The Simpsons
.”

“Because I wanted you with me. And Callie wanted you at her wedding. She’s just about
my best friend, you know, and she’s your friend too. She came to your birthday party
and your cello recital and your swim meets and your football games. Don’t you want
to be there on this most important day of her life?”

Rob didn’t answer, but his silence spoke quite eloquently. He’d rather be in front
of the tube, zoned out on his favorite show. Or at his father’s, where he could run
wild and do whatever he pleased, eat ice cream for dinner, and play with his expensive
toys. He’d rather
be anywhere but spending time with his boring, crabby mother.

A flash of headlights brought her back to her present dilemma. Yes! Probably someone
headed for the wedding too. She could hitch a ride and worry about the car later.
She opened her window, stuck out her red umbrella, and waved it frantically at the
approaching motorist.

The car slowed. Please let it be her knight in shining armor, she prayed, and not
some lowlife murderer-rapist-kidnapper. Not that Destiny, Texas, harbored a lot of
those, but you could never be sure. After all, only two days earlier Callie’s soon-to-be
sister-in-law had been arrested on suspicion of murder. But stuff like that didn’t
happen very often around there.

As the car pulled to the side of the road in front of her, a bank of red and blue
flashing lights burst to life. A police officer, Lana realized with a surge of relief.
Most of them were okay.

The driver’s door opened and the officer emerged, looking large and reassuring in
his blue uniform and black slicker. As he walked toward her in an easy, loose-limbed
gait, he pulled a flashlight from his belt and flipped it on.

“Cool, a cop,” was Rob’s only comment.

The man shined the flashlight beam in Lana’s face, then over the car’s interior. “Hi.
Looks like you got yourself a problem here. Anyone—” He paused and stared a moment.
“Anyone hurt?”

“N-no, we’re fine, but we’re in a real bind—” She stopped. Holy cheese, was this guy
who she thought he
was? “Sloan? Sloan Bennett! I … it is you, isn’t it?” The short hair and the uniform
had thrown her off for a moment, but she never could have forgotten the shape of his
face, those sharp cheekbones and the straight, perfect nose, the sensual lips … especially
the lips. Her face burned.

“Lana,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Lana Walsh.”

She had a million things she wanted to ask him—like how had he ended up a cop, of
all things? Had he gone to college? Did he still ride a motorcycle? Was he married?
And where the heck had he disappeared to after graduation? She’d seen him around that
summer, once at the gas station, once at the grocery store, although she was pretty
sure he hadn’t spotted her. Both times she’d tried to gather up the courage to approach
him, wanting to explain. But both times she’d realized she didn’t have the words to
explain because she didn’t understand it herself—the consuming need she had for him,
tempered by a fear she couldn’t put a name to.

So she’d bided her time, thinking she would have another chance, that at some other
time and place she would be more … prepared. Then there’d been that gossip about him
and Nicole Johnson, and he’d simply vanished.

She realized she was no more prepared now than she’d ever been. “Listen,” she said
a little breathlessly, “I’m late for Callie Calloway’s wedding, and I’m a bridesmaid,
and I have to get to the church right away.”

“I was going there myself, to handle the parking lot traffic. I’ll give you a lift,”
he offered, but not eagerly. Like maybe he knew he had to because he was a cop, but
otherwise he wouldn’t think twice about letting her drown.

“Thanks.” He didn’t have to ask her again. Right then she needed a knight in shining
armor, and she couldn’t be picky about who that knight was. She turned to Rob. “You’ll
have to get out on my side, sweetie, or you’ll end up falling in the ditch.”

Lana opened her door, hiked up her long velvet skirt, and warily allowed Sloan to
assist her out of the awkwardly angled car and under his umbrella. His hand was strong
on her upper arm, and she felt the burn of his touch long after he’d released her.
“C’mon, Rob, get under the umbrella.”

Rob scrambled out after her, his wide eyes riveted on the policeman’s uniform. “Is
that a real gun?”

“Sure is,” Sloan replied, suddenly sounding much less harsh. He opened the back door
of the squad car. Rob dived in and Lana followed, relieved that she’d gotten only
a little damp.

“Do you need anything from the car?” Sloan asked.

“Oh, my shoes!” She looked down at the Loafers, which she’d elected to wear instead
of the custom-dyed peau de soie pumps when she’d seen the rain. “They’re on the floor
in the backseat.” She handed him the keys.

“Mom, do you think he’d let me ride in front?” Rob asked excitedly, peering over the
front seat at the impressive array of electronics attached to the dash.

“Just stay put for now, please?” she said wearily. “It’s only five minutes to the
church.”

Rob flopped back down in the seat, his arms crossed, a mutinous expression on his
face. “You never want me to have any fun.”

“I love for you to have fun,” Lana said. “But we’re late and in a hurry, and we don’t
really have time to worry about having fun.” Because if they did, truth be known,
she
would like to ride up front with Sloan. And she’d be far more interested in the man
than in his machines.

Sloan opened the front door and slid behind the wheel. He took off his hat and shook
the water from it. “Callie and Sam picked a heckuva day to get married.”

“That’s what they get for not having a nice long engagement and marrying in the spring,”
Lana replied, thinking that her mother, Ann Imogene Slocum Walsh, God rest her soul,
would have plenty to say about Callie’s whirlwind wedding plans. She would probably
be placing bets with her society friends as to when the baby would be born.

“They couldn’t afford to wait,” Sloan said, a note of censure in his voice. “Sam has
to get back to his ranch. He can’t stay down here forever courting Callie like she
was some Southern belle. And they want to be togeth—”

“Hey, I wasn’t criticizing. I’m thrilled they’re tying the knot so quickly. I thought
they should’ve gotten married years ago.” Sheesh. How had she pushed his button?

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You know them well, then?” Lana went on, undaunted. Despite her supposedly genteel
upbringing, she’d never been easily offended. People said and did things for all sorts
of reasons. She would assume Sloan didn’t intend any kind of personal attack.

“I don’t know them socially, exactly,” Sloan said. “Callie was assisting with a police
investigation, so we’ve been talking a lot the last few weeks. I guess she’s let a
few things drop about her wedding plans.”

“She’s probably told you more than she told me. I haven’t been able to get hold of
her at all. I knew she was involved somehow in Tamra Sanger’s arrest, but she hasn’t
had time to give me any details, and the newspaper certainly hasn’t done much of a
job of covering the story other than wringing sensational headlines out of the few
crumbs they have.”