Kiss Them Goodbye (33 page)

His eyes were so dark they weren’t blue anymore. “Things have changed a lot for you. Your life is going to be different. Hey—” He touched her mouth to stop her from protesting. “I know you haven’t decided what it’s all going to mean to you, but it isn’t reasonable to think you’d want to keep on hanging around with a country deputy who works a couple of jobs—and has an old man and a daughter he’s responsible for. And I wouldn’t change the last two, by the way.”

Vivian’s stomach rolled and kept on rolling, but if he
thought he’d sealed their fate—negatively—he was wrong. She was a fighter. “Instead of trying to get me to say something so you don’t have to make any decisions, why don’t you tell me what you want? If you want anything.”

He caught her by the shoulders and his fingers dug in, not that she was complaining. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“My rule is to jump in as close to the end as possible without leaving anything out.”

He bowed his head so she couldn’t see his face. “I always say you’re smart.”

The only light in the room was a table lamp with a weak bulb. Since Spike stood in front, he all but blocked it and all they had was a muted glow. Vivian couldn’t think of another body she’d rather look at. A slim man, nevertheless Spike was all muscle and the way his shoulders filled out his shirt and his torso tapered to his flat belly made a great view anytime. Since he was technically still on duty, he’d changed into a fresh uniform before leaving his place. She took hold of a button on his shirt. “What they said about the way women responded to men in uniform is so true.” Except that she responded to him whatever he wore.

“Then I’ll wear uniforms all the time,” he said. “You’re going to make me do the serious talking, aren’t you?”

“I surely am.”

“All this stuff is going to pass and there’ll be you and me left to decide where we want to go, if anywhere.”

“That’s right,” she told him, although she didn’t like the way he handled his words.

“Whatever I do, I’ve got to consider Wendy’s happiness.”

She nodded. “Yes, you do. I wouldn’t like you if you wanted it any other way.”

“You live here and I live at my place. I don’t know what you’d want to do about that.”

“You’re jumping the gun. Those things always work out. Anyway, Homer loves the business and he’d do a great job running it for you. He more or less does that now.”

His next smile was brilliant and Vivian wondered what that was about. As quickly as he showed all those white teeth, he wiped the look from his face.

“You came here to help your mother get this place off the ground. That’s going to happen. I think it’ll be the most successful hotel around.”

She shoved away a fleeting thought about Morgan trying to get rid of them. Spike would have to get accustomed to Rosebank. “I agree with you and it’s wonderful.”

“What are your plans?” Spike asked. “Once your mother doesn’t need you anymore.”

Spike could make a woman real angry. Why didn’t he just spit out what he wanted? “I like being needed,” she told him. “I guess I’ll just find someone else who could use a good partner.”

He looked at the floor. “Makes sense.”

Kicking him probably wouldn’t help, but her throat burned, and her eyes. She couldn’t do this all alone, supposing he wanted what she hoped for.

“Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I go down by the bayou,” he said. His thumb would soon be taking skin right off her knuckles. “I stand in the dark and listen. You can hear things movin’ under the water, and the rustle of the hyacinth crowding together. Some nights you smell cedar. I love that. And the mist when it breaks apart and swirls around the tree trunks in the water. There’s no other place in the world like this.”

She could see it, feel it. “No. I’ve loved it here all my life.”

“Have you?” He raised his face to study her. “But you’d rather live in the city.”

“Who says?”

He didn’t answer.

“Spike, I’m not going away anytime soon and I’ll probably never live in New Orleans again. I’ll always want to visit but I’ll make sure I can do that.”

He leaned back to get a better look at her. “Oh, God” was all he said before wrapping her in his arms and rocking her against him.

She held him tight and wished she could help him through whatever battle he fought.

“Do you think you could be happy living right here—in this area?”

She turned cold and goose bumps popped out. “Yes.”

“You don’t think you’d eventually tire of it and want to move on?”

“I don’t think so.”

He rocked her and rested his chin on top of her head. “It wouldn’t be easy for me to get started somewhere else.”

“You don’t want to,” she told him. “That would make it really hard. So why even think about it?”

“Because…” He held her away from him and his hands shook on her shoulders. “You know why.”

She would not do all the work. “Tell me, just in case I’ve got it wrong.”

“Because I can’t even think about not seeing you all the time. I don’t think I’ll ever be whole unless you’re where I can get to you fast.”

Spike didn’t have a silver tongue but his words brought tears rushing to her eyes.

“I have nightmares where you’re gone. You’ve left and I’m here, seeing you wherever I look, and feelin’ so empty I don’t know how to keep on livin’.”

He was developing his word skills fast, and destroy
ing her control in the process. “I wouldn’t want to open my eyes again if we made a mess of this, Spike. I mean it.”

“There you are, then.” He gave a short laugh. “I guess we understand each other.”

Taking him to that spare bedroom she’d mentioned and just lying wrapped in his arms would feel so good, but he was wrong, they weren’t “there.” “Tell me what you want,” she asked him again.

Spike said, “Oh,” and turned a shade of red under his tan. “Yeah, I should do that.”

He walked away and parted the drapes on nothing but darkness behind the building. When he turned around, he wasn’t flushed anymore. She’d never seen him look more serious.

Spike came to her rapidly and shocked her by kneeling in front of her.

“Get up,” she urged, laughing nervously. “What are you doing down there?”

Not a hint of a smile appeared. He took her hands in his and said, “I love you very much. Will you marry me? Please?”

“I will
not
cry,” she said, bending over and pressing his face to her. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Spike, I love you, too. And I love that we’re here like this. It feels wonderful.”

“Quickly?” he said.

“What?”

“Marry me quickly. I can’t wait.”

“Okay.” Her chest was about to explode with happiness. “We’ll talk to Cyrus.”

Spike looked up at her and appeared panicked. “I haven’t been inside a church in—”

“Doesn’t matter.” She hesitated. “When you were married the first time—”

“Vegas,” he said. “And you’re right. St. Cécil’s it is, but it’s got to be a real small wedding.”

“You and me, Mom, Homer, Wendy and…Well, there would be a few people there.”

“Wendy loves you,” Spike said. “I think she’ll be tickled when we tell her.”

Vivian didn’t want to break the bubble, not for a very long time, but she’d better show Spike where he could sleep and get some rest herself. They couldn’t know what tomorrow might hold. She pulled Spike to his feet and they embraced while Vivian found she couldn’t seem to concentrate on what she should do next.

Boa helped her focus by dashing into the room and threading in and out of their ankles.

“She’s all wound up,” Vivian said, reluctantly loosening her grip on Spike.

“That makes three of us.”

Boa rushed for the door again, in time to leap into Wendy’s arms. The child was wearing one of Vivian’s pajama tops with the sleeves rolled way up, and her bare arms and legs seemed fragile. Her pigtails hadn’t been taken down and odd pieces of hair stuck out. She’d put on her glasses and her eyes shone very large behind the lenses. Vivian figured if she held Boa as tightly as Wendy did, the dog would struggle away.

“Wendy,” Spike said. He put an arm around Vivian. “We’ve got something pretty exciting to tell you.”

“I know.” Wendy’s voice rose to a squeak and she kissed Boa’s head over and over. “I was sittin’ on the stairs, listenin’. I want to call Gramps and tell him I’m going to live with a dog.”

The sixth day

S
pike’s cell phone rang at 5:00 a.m.

He fumbled to grab up the thing from his pocket before it woke Vivian. Too late. She’d been asleep with her head resting on folded arms on top of the kitchen table, but by the time he got the receiver to his ear, she blinked at him with heavy eyes.

“Yeah?” he said as quietly as possible.

“It’s Cyrus.”

Spike leaned back in his own chair on the side of the table opposite from Vivian. “D’you know what time it is?”

Cyrus cleared his throat. “I have to prepare for morning mass but I wanted to get to you and Vivian first. I’ve shirked my duty and I’ve got to fix that before I let more time pass. I know you’re at Rosebank. Homer said so before he hung up on me.”

“What’s wrong?” Spike didn’t feel tired anymore. “What’s happened?”

“I didn’t call the house phone there because I didn’t want to wake everyone.”

“Good.” He waited. Vivian sat upright pushing her hair away from her face.

“You’re with Vivian, I expect.”

Spike trapped the phone between ear and shoulder and crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Well…Yes, with Vivian. You know how much I think of both of you.”

“We think a lot of you, too.” He wasn’t going to help Cyrus out, not at this time of day.

“I’ll get right to the point, then.”

Spike waited again.

“I said, I’ll get right to the point,” Cyrus told him.

“You do that.”

“You and Vivian are special people, two of the best, and I only want what’s good for you, what will make you happy. I’m losin’ sleep over you.”

It took restraint not to point out that Spike wasn’t getting the sleep he wanted at the moment, either. “It’s nice of you to care, but there isn’t a thing for you to worry about. We’re fine.”

“Do you know the date for sure?”

Spike almost dropped the phone. “What? How do you know already?”

Cyrus sighed. “I’ve known a long time. The woman who works there, Thea, told Doll Hibbs and it eventually got back to Reb. She’s feeling as bad as I do. Each time she starts talkin’ about it to Vivian, she lets herself get distracted. We’re both embarrassed to broach the subject but we care about you and want what’s best.”

Vivian got up and stood over Spike. He didn’t blame her for being curious. “I don’t see how you and Reb could have known anything weeks ago. Or Thea. Does everyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Thea and Doll swore to keep silent.
That wasn’t easy to pull off. That only leaves Reb. Even Madge doesn’t know.”

No way was Cyrus talking about a wedding. “You’re going to have to be more direct,” Spike said. Vivian ran her fingers through his hair and he smiled reassuringly up into her anxious face.

“The baby,” Cyrus said. “Something was said at Rose-bank about Vivian’s condition and Thea overheard. Reb’s worried because she doesn’t think Vivian’s seeing a doctor and it must have happened a while back, when we didn’t realize you two had more than a casual thing going. I should have noticed how the two of you reacted to each other. Maybe I did in a way but I just can’t remember thinkin’ about it. I saw you at Jilly’s together once and you were talkin’ like you were havin’ fun. I—well, I thought that was nice, nothing more.”

Spike took the phone from his ear and looked at it, then he looked at Vivian again. “You aren’t—” He shook his head. He actually stared at her middle before coming completely to his senses. “Of course you aren’t expecting a baby. Where would he get that idea from?”

Vivian frowned, but only for an instant before she grinned and clamped both hands over her mouth.

He would never pretend to understand female reactions sometimes. Cyrus’s muffled voice could still be heard.

“Whoever gave you the idea we’re having a baby is wrong,” Spike said, speaking into the phone once more. “Absolutely wrong and it’s bizarre you ever got the idea. But you can do us a favor. Vivian and I are gettin’ married. We’d surely appreciate it if you’d make the arrangements. It needs to be as soon as possible.”

“O
zaire’s chargin’ a nickel less,” Gator Hibbs said, leaning on the lowered tailgate of the pickup where Homer was hard at work over a bubbling cauldron of crawfish.

“Guess you’d best snap up that offer then,” Homer told the man whose eyes watered in his round face from squinting up into the sun.

Gator chewed a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. From the back of a Ford 250 pickup parked beside Homer, a band Wazoo had brought in from New Orleans, “For free, ’cause we got ties,” belted out “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate.” Despite there being an hour of morning left, dancers had already made sure a large patch of grass would have to be replaced.

“Cain’t think,” Gator bellowed. “Too much goin’ on.”

“Ozaire’s undercuttin’ my price,” Homer yelled back. “You need to hotfoot it over there and get you some of his stuff.”

“Rather have yours.”

Homer tapped the price board again. “How much you want?”

“A nickel off,” Gator said.

Homer turned his back to flip crabs on the barbecue and Gator wandered away.

To help out, and stop Wendy from running all over the place announcing that Vivian and Spike were getting married, Charlotte kept cooked crawfish and crab warm on a nearby table and enjoyed the novelty of selling food on paper plates. Ozaire’s recent price cut was the second of the morning. The first had been only two cents but Homer insisted he wasn’t playing the game. He’d stand on offering the best vittles.

She surveyed the crowd and figured it had to number a couple of hundred. They’d roped off the back of the house because Spike didn’t figure they had enough people to keep a safety watch there.

With cars parked on a lot opposite Rosebank, the front grounds gave more than enough space, or so Wazoo insisted. Charlotte couldn’t see a spare inch of ground anywhere but people seemed to like it that way.

She looked past the children’s sack races run by Madge, with the aid of a clown on stilts, and saw Vivian with Spike, Cyrus, Joe Gable, and Marc and Reb Girard. They stood in the shade of some arrowwood bushes, except for Reb who sat in a lawn chair with Gaston. They all made a serious group and when Bill Green wandered up with an ice cream in hand, he soon lost his smile, too. Charlotte knew better than to try to find anything out in the middle of such chaos, but she wouldn’t relax until she understood what was going on.

Wendy had finally quieted down after talking nonstop since they’d found Spike and Vivian dozing over coffee at the kitchen table that morning. Charlotte turned to say something to the girl, only to find her fast asleep on the blanket Vivian had spread for Boa. The dog
and the child curled together in the shade of a golf umbrella.

“Hello, Charlotte.”

At the sound of her name she spun around and looked up into Gary Legrain’s face.

“I had to come,” he said. “I wanted to see how you and Vivian were getting along.”

“You left in a hurry,” she told him. His anxious eyes softened her annoyance with him. “We’ve wondered about you.”

He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and put down bills for a plate of crab. “Just realized I’m hungry,” he said, smiling slightly. “I didn’t think to eat before coming.”

Charlotte didn’t comment.

Gary put away several crabs, picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. “The will shocked me. I had to get away for a little while and I also had to take stock of the firm and what it all means. Did you hear about the Martins?”

“Spike and Vivian told me. You weren’t the only one shocked by Louis Martin’s will.”

He set down his plate and rubbed grease from his fingers. His eyes never left hers. “I know that. You understand that I don’t believe there was anything between you and Louis, don’t you?”

“Good, because there wasn’t.” She stiffened her back. “I loved my husband very much and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop missing him.”

A flurry of customers arrived and Charlotte turned her attention to them.

“I’ll take a wander around,” Gary said. “If it’s okay, I’d like us to talk some more later.”

Charlotte said, “Fine,” and watched him walk off.

“I messed up, me,” Wazoo shouted, although she also smiled widely. She wore one of her ankle-length black
lace dresses with a long mantilla of the same lace trailing from a comb atop her head. She twirled as she ran by, and her flowing clothes twisted this way and that around her legs. “Listen up, all o’ you. Wazoo forget a big event, real big. We gotta do it now.” In one arm she carried a huge bouquet of flowers she must have bought—or appropriated—from tables in the driveway where the ladies of St. Cécil’s Altar Society were selling them.

“Wazoo,” Charlotte called after her, but got no response.

Around and around Wazoo sped until she finally captured enough attention to hush the crowd a little. “Now,” she shouted. “It’s time for some ceremony. Ain’t no proper event without ceremony.”

Ozaire marched forward with the megaphone he’d been using to hawk his wares and delivered a ringing announcement. “Listen up. This is me, Ozaire Dupre. I got the best crawfish and crabs around. Cheapest, too. Now give your attention to Miz Wazoo who’s tryin’ to have a ceremony.” He handed the megaphone to her.

“Thank you, Ozaire.”

Charlotte put her fingers in her ears to lessen the blast.

“It’s late, but not too late. We’re gonna have us the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Gimme a drumroll.”

The drummer on the back of the Ford obligingly started a rumbling.

“Swamp Doggies.” Wazoo pointed to the regular band from Pappy’s Dancehall. “You play…that thing they do for the Pres-i-dent. Not too loud.”

“Pomp and Circumstance,” zydeco style, had men snatching off their baseball caps and slapping them over their hearts.

Charlotte noted that the dour gathering near the arrowwood bushes was actually smiling, and she smiled with them. Only Wazoo could create this kind of scene.

A huge circle of foam-topped water rose from the dunk tank. The tank was Joe Gable’s contribution to the fun, even though he had Wally running it for him. Shrieks followed, ruining Wazoo’s setup. She marched to the tank herself and laughter broke out when people saw it was Wally in the water.

Wazoo chided him loudly but he protested for everyone to hear, “I was just checkin’ it out, Wazoo. It doesn’t fall easy enough so I was fixin’ it.”

“The ribbon,” Wazoo cried, giving Wally another scowl before she returned to the clearing she’d made in the crowd. One man held the end of a bolt of wide ribbon while Thea, looking bashful, pushed a sturdy stick through the middle of the reel and walked backward to unwind a long band of yellow satin.

“Now,” Wazoo cried. “Dr. Link and Mrs. Hurst will do the honors.”

Morgan, with Susan on his arm, came forward and took an impressively large pair of scissors from Wazoo. Charlotte couldn’t help admiring the couple for the handsome picture they made. Susan wore all white and her diamond earrings sparkled in the sunlight. She looked pretty and young, and healthy. Morgan’s relaxed stance and the way he looked at his wife made him more appealing than he’d ever seemed to Charlotte before.

“Say somethin’ real meaningful,” Wazoo said. She gave Susan the bouquet of flowers.

Morgan opened the scissors and said, “May each of us get what we deserve. I declare this fete open.” And he cut the ribbon.

Spike and Cyrus stood on either side of Vivian. She caught each one of them by an upper arm and pulled until they bent close to listen to her.

“Did you see that?” she asked.

Both men said, “Yes,” and she joined them in whispering, “Left-handed.”

“I think I almost forgot about it,” Vivian continued.

“Doesn’t have to mean a thing,” Cyrus pointed out. “Many people are left-handed.”

“But many people aren’t left-handed and adept with blades,” Vivian said.

Shadow hid much of Spike’s face. “I don’t think the Martin boys hired Morgan Link to kill Louis, do you?”

“If they hired anyone at all,” Vivian said, and when Spike looked at her she saw nothing too reassuring in his expression.

Spike filled the others in on Vivian’s observation and all faces became grave. “I thought Bonine was going to be here,” Marc Girard said. “Not that I expect any help from that quarter.”

Joe pushed his hands deep in his pockets. “That man’s a dud. It’s like he’s deliberately brushed two killings under the rug. He needs to be held accountable.”

Spike and Vivian glanced at each other.

“You think something’s going to happen today?” Reb made an automatic sweep of the grounds. “I don’t think it will. Too public.”

“I don’t think anything else will happen at all,” Bill said. “Ever. I think the killings were professional. Someone wanted Louis dead and poor old Gil got in the way. Now it’s over.”

Cyrus nodded agreement but Spike said, “If you remember, Vivian and I made an unscheduled landing in Bayou Lafourche. That had to be a warning, didn’t it? For us to quit stickin’ our noses into things. And that was after Louis died.”

“I don’t know.” Bill narrowed his eyes. “You may have something there. When do you think you’ll hear more from your Iberia source?”

A ball hit Cyrus in the middle and he trapped it
against him, looking around for the culprit. Wearing a pleased expression, Madge jogged toward them. Cyrus lobbed the ball back and she caught it.

“To be honest,” Spike said, “I may never hear another word.”

“Shit,” Bill said with a lot of feeling, then, “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to be,” Reb told him. “This whole thing stinks.”

Snickers apparently went over her head. “I’ve got to run out,” Bill said. “Believe it or not I’ve got a couple coming in to look at that old theater. And before you ask what they think they want it for—they’re talking about renovation and in time, putting on productions. I think they’ll take one look at the place and take off running so I shouldn’t be long. I’ll be ready for a cold beer when I get back.”

They shouted after him, promising to drink every drop before he could get any. Vivian saw Gary Legrain walking straight toward them and said, “Gary’s back,” under her breath.

“Nice of him,” Spike said.

Grinning, Gary strolled up to them and said, “Hi. Some do going on here.”

He got polite responses and stood among them as if he’d never left Rosebank without a word to anyone.

From close range, Madge sent the red ball back to Cyrus with enough force to buy her a solid “oomph.” She followed it almost at once and he took her head in the crook of his arm while she yelped for mercy. He deposited her on the ground and went to his haunches beside her. “Wicked deeds never pay,” he told her, keeping a hand on her neck. “Do you promise to reform?”

Spike and Vivian blocked the two of them from the others who couldn’t have seen how the smile faded from Madge’s lips and longing entered her dark eyes.
Cyrus touched her hair, smoothed it lightly and jumped up, helping Madge to join him. “You did hear these two are getting married, didn’t you?” he asked her.

Vivian winced.

“No,” Madge said, smiling again. “I’ve been running the children’s races. Nobody told me anything. Congratulations.”

“And,” Vivian said softly, “we’ve been able to put Cyrus’s mind at rest about my fictitious pregnancy.”

Madge stopped in the act of brushing grass clippings from her jeans. “Huh?”

Vivian winked at her. “Thea overheard some remark that made her think I was pregnant. She told Doll, who told Reb, who went to Cyrus for advice on how to help me.”

“Oo, ya ya. That would be the remark I made to get you away from Bonine that day?”

“Uh-huh.”

In barely more than a whisper, Madge said to Cyrus, “If you’d said something to me, the way you used to, I’d have explained.” She looked at her watch. “Excuse me. Time for the egg-and-spoon race.”

Vivian and Spike were silent, watching Madge walk away and trying not to let Cyrus know they saw his confusion. Confusion and something close to anger. Vivian promised herself she’d push hard to have Madge move into Rosebank, then hope she could do something to help, like introduce Madge to a man who was both nice and available.

The egg-and-spoon race soon had them laughing. One toddler boy wrapped both pudgy hands around his egg and the bowl of a spoon and trotted toward the finish line with a huge pucker between his fair eyebrows. While turmoil raged around him and the field became steadily smaller, he kept on moving until he crossed the line first. He formed his own cheering squad but his parents and
others were quick to join in, at which point the remaining contestants quit. Madge pronounced little Kirby the winner and the crowd laughed but demanded another race.

“That boy will go far,” Joe said amid murmurs of agreement.

“Spike.”

Ellie Byron had walked behind them and she tapped Spike’s shoulder. When he turned to smile at her she said, “Would Vivian excuse you if I had you come with me for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Vivian said. “Did you bruise your forehead?” There were purplish marks there.

Ellie touched them and grimaced. “So silly,” she said. “A book fell on me in the shop.”

“Why don’t we take Vivian with us?” Spike said. “We haven’t had a chance to tell you our news.”

“No,” Ellie said. Her breathing was obvious and shallow. “This won’t take long, Spike. Please.”

Vivian swallowed. Something about Ellie frightened her. She gave Spike a little push. “Go on. I’ll be here when you get back.”