Night Magic (8 page)

*****

Paul could still feel the glow of Savannah's
touch. Still unnerved by the power of his longing for her, he could
not get to sleep. Not once in all the times he dated other women,
had his passion stirred so deeply. The combination of beauty,
courage, and sensuality in this one woman packed a mighty punch
that knocked his defenses flat. Staring into the night, he
determined to make her want him just as much.

*****

The next morning dawned brightly. As usual
for Louisiana, the late September weather remained balmy. But for
Savannah everything seemed to go wrong. She was tired and irritable
from a restless night of trying to clear her mind of Paul. The
blouse she wanted to wear had a ripped seam. The skirt she put on
missed a button at the waist. Fuming, she dug through the bottom of
her closet for the sandals she planned to wear. But they seemed to
be playing hide and seek. Finally dressed, she avoided her aunt not
wanting to answer questions about last night. She left as if in a
big hurry calling out that she would just get a donut on the way to
the shop. A huge knowing grin stretched across Tante Marie's face
as she stood at the window watching her leave. Savannah felt even
more aggravated.

At the shop, the figures she tried to double
check kept dancing around refusing to add up. Every time she
punched them into the calculator a different total flashed
annoyingly on the screen. About an hour after she had been there
her father arrived. She gave him a distracted good morning and
continued to mutter under her breath at the way everything was
going wrong.

"Cher, I been watchin' you for a while. You
got your mind elsewhere. Sure thing not on what you doin'."

"There is nothing on my mind. These invoices
are illegible and not in any order. Why you haven't fired that
bookkeeper I definitely do not know." She looked at the calculator
display hopefully then groaned at the result. Flinging several
pieces of paper to the floor she covered her face with her
hands.

"Cher, every time you try to total up the
supplies I bought for making my statues, you pick up a different
set of invoices," her father argued. "This one for instance is for
souvenirs I got at market. This pile is sales receipts for Marie's
gumbo file mix and stuff, this pile--"

"Okay, okay. I'll start over." Savannah
restacked the papers without looking her father in the eye.

At the sound of the bell she started up to
herd the early shopper away until they opened in another
hour."Poppy, you left the front door unlocked again. You have got
to be more careful. This isn't the same small town it was
twenty-five years ago."

"Hold on now. You're safe; it's only a
harmless engineer." Paul held out both arms as if to show he was
unarmed.

"Mornin', T-Paul. How you feelin' today,
man?" Antoine slapped him on the back. His grin was wide as he
glanced at Paul then at Savannah significantly.

"Pretty good, shaping up to be a beautiful
day."

"Sure enough, sure enough." Antoine took a
deep breath. His grin began to fade when he noticed that Savannah
was not sharing in their good humor. "Well. I got some... stuff to
take care of, in the stockroom. I'll be in the back, out there."
His voice trailed off as he did his best to fade into the
background.

"You okay?" Paul frowned. As he had reached
out touch Savannah's shoulder, he could fell her stiffen.

"Sure, fine." She stared straight ahead.

"Did I do something to upset you last night?
I thought, I mean we seemed to connect."

"Yeah, well maybe that's the problem. We
connected too hard and too fast."

"Listen, I don't want you to think I'm
pushing you. But with you so near, so damn fine, I just reacted."
He tried to put his arms around her but she moved away.

"I'm not looking for any kind of relationship
right now, understand? There are a lot of other things I want to
concentrate on, like my career or what's left of it. My experience
working for a big law firm left a bad taste in my mouth, but I
haven't given up on practicing law yet." Savannah could feel her
resistance slipping as she stared into those remarkable eyes. She
wanted to erase the concern in them.

"I do understand. I've got a few life issues
to resolve myself. We can take it as slow as you want. Hey, since
we got off to a bad start, let's take it from the beginning. Hi, my
name is Paul. What's yours?" He reached out his hand. Refusing to
be ignored, he grabbed hers and pumped it comically.

"Savannah, all right? Savannah." She laughed
in spite of herself. "Just don't break it, I need those you
know."

"That's much better. I meant what I said
about taking it slow. This thing is too important to rush." Paul
folded her hand in both of his as he stared into her eyes.

Her gaze traced the strong curve of his jaw,
lingered on his sensuous lips. A surge of heat began at the base of
her spine. The same heat that been so easily kindled last night.
Searching his face, calmness spread over her that no other man had
inspired. She couldn't deny that being with Paul made her feel she
had finally found her place, a place she had not even known she was
missing. This made finding it even more marvelous. As they began to
exchange mock small talk, continuing the game of a first meeting,
Antoine peeked at them. Since he didn't hear any shouting or loud
thumps, he figured Paul must be safe. He went back to sit at his
desk and began straightening up the invoices. He whistled a
sprightly Zydeco tune as he worked.

"I'll come by later at around twelve thirty.
How does lunch at Lafayette Park sound?"

"Great. I'll pick up the sandwiches from
Snooky Boo's,” Savannah said. Snooky Boo's was little more than a
one room shack that served up the best old fashion homemade
sandwiches for a song. It was at the edge of the small business
district, situated perfectly for the blue collar workers on road
crews and truck drivers.

"You got it." He waved happily as he walked
off with a new bounce in his step.

"Bye." Watching him move away, Savannah stood
on the sidewalk for several minutes enjoying the view. She sighed
deeply at the sight. As she turned to go back into the shop,
something made her look to her left. A block away, standing at the
end of the street that lead to the museum was LaShaun. Even at that
distance, Savannah could feel her malice curling out like a water
moccasin. LaShaun traced something in the air. The smile on her
face was anything but friendly. Unable to look away, Savannah's
feeling of calm drained away with each movement of her hands to be
replaced by a sense of chilly dread. Savannah wanted to back away,
to run, but something held her rooted to that spot. LaShaun nodded
as if to acknowledge her effect on Savannah, then left. Savannah
stood at the door gazing after her, rubbing the raised flesh on her
arms. Breathing shakily, she went inside.

Chapter 4

For the next three weeks, Paul was so
cheerful his partner Sam was getting really annoyed. Sam hated
small towns having grown up in one on the wrong side of the tracks
so to speak. He only visited a few times preferring to attend to
the contracts in the larger cities.

"Man, if you start whistling some corny song
I swear I'm going to throw up. There can only be one reason for
this kind of irrational behavior, a woman." Sam cocked one bushy
eyebrow at Paul's knowing laugh. "Just what I thought."

"What are you so grumpy about anyway?
Business is great, we've been having sunny weather, and you don't
have to stay here overnight if you don't want to because most of my
testing is done." Paul stretched gracefully and sunk a perfect shot
with a ball of paper in the wasted basket next to Sam's chair.

"That last part is truly cause for rejoicing.
How you stood it for six weeks is beyond me. But don't change the
subject, who is she?" Sam hooked one long denim covered leg over
the arm chair.Since they had been reviewing test result figures for
over three hours, he was more than ready for a break. The spacious
living room of the mobile home Paul had rented doubled as his
office.

"Savannah St. Julien." Paul drew the name,
savoring each syllable.

"That name sounds familiar. Hey, wait a
minute. I heard that on television. Some reporter was interviewing
a St. Julien about the plant. No, you wouldn't be that dumb."

"What are you talking about?" Paul handed him
a soft drink before taking a seat on the sofa across from him.

"You’re the opposition, buddy boy, working
for the enemy. These little numbers are going to get us in good
with a major industry and your name is going to be mud." Sam picked
up some of the reports and shook them to emphasize his point.

"We did an independent assessment that showed
the aggregate would not harm the soil if it's processed correctly,"
Paul insisted. "The soil mixture around the plant would not easily
allow contamination of ground water if a large spill should
accidentally occur..."

"Save it for your honey, man. When this baby
hits the fan, you better be wearing a flak jacket, is all I can
say." Sam waved part of the partially finished report.

"I'm not working for the enemy either." Paul
scowled into his glass. "Singleton is taking all necessary
precautions. What's more, Claude Trosclair even got him to follow
some of my suggestions to change some of their operations."

"Does she know about your relationship to the
Trosclair family?" Sam squinted at him.

"Of course not. There's no need for her to
know." Paul shifted uneasily, his voice defensive."Oh-oh." Sam
pursed his lips.

"Don't give me that look." Paul's irritation
came from knowing what Sam was thinking. Exactly the nagging worry
he tried to suppress.

"Let's hope it doesn't come out." Sam leaned
back.

"Nobody knows who I am, and this happened
years ago. There's no way it could."

"Not tempted to tell cousin Quentin who you
are and rock his little privileged world?"

"It would almost be worth it to see the look
on his face, but no. I remember the look on my father's face when I
read Monmon Marguerite's diary to him. He was trembling. The last
thing he wants is for this to be known. Papa's health isn't good
and getting him upset could send him back to the hospital."

"Yeah, and what about grandpa. He exploited
your grandmother and went on his merry way." Sam seemed as angry as
Paul should have been.

"That's the way I felt, too. But we're
talking over fifty years ago in a small southern town. Mixed
couples didn't march down the aisle, man. She just fell in love
with the wrong guy at the wrong time, in the wrong place."

"This is incredible. Listen to yourself
making excuses for him."

"Okay, so he didn't have the guts to buck
generations of convention or risk his social standing, not to
mention inheritance. How many would? Could you?"

"If I truly loved her, yeah, you damn right I
could."

"Real easy to say. We don't know what it's
like to be in their skin, raised a certain way. It would mean
giving up everything you have, including your family." Paul crossed
the room and began arranging the files on his desk.

"He's got you fooled man. Claude Trosclair is
one those southern aristocrats that sees having a black mistress as
his right."

"You haven't met him. Besides, the way my
grandmother's diary reads they had a real love affair going,
poetry, flowers, the whole nine yards. And she knew only too well
that it would have to stay that way for both their sakes."

"If you say so. I just hope you know what
you're doing here. Things are getting real complicated."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Paul
asked.

"We get this contract, and you tell me your
family secret." Sam ticked off fingers counting.

"You're my best friend and partner; I felt
you had a right to know."

"Then you date and dump, of all people, Marie
Leveau.""Her name is LaShaun Rousselle, she works at the museum
which happens to have a voodoo exhibit, and our parting was
cordial."

"Uh-huh, just don't eat anything with red
gravy from her. Then you fall hard for Ms. Greenpeace. When I was
teasing you about how you needed to lighten up and get a life, I
didn't mean all in one day, my brother."

"It's cool. Don't worry about it, alright."
Paul rubbed his face with both hands.

"If you say so. I gotta get going." Sam
raised his eyebrows and shook his head. He paused and turned back.
"Call me if you need anything." He extended his hand.

"You bet." Paul gripped his hand hard for
several seconds before letting go. After Sam left, Paul was more
subdued. So lost in joy that he and Savannah were moving towards
one another, Paul had not allowed himself to think about the
complications. Complications that could spell disaster. Paul could
still see Savannah's lovely face smiling with pleasure. Closing his
eyes, he could almost smell warm scent of her skin. Her affect on
him was not to be denied. Opening his eyes again, Paul faced the
growing fear that he could lose this woman who had become so
precious to him.

*****

Now the days were much shorter, and
temperature became frosty several times as cold fronts moved
through. But in typical sub-tropical fashion, it could be forty
degrees in the morning and seventy degrees by noon as the south
Louisiana sunshine spread across the country side. The next five
weeks were a whirlwind of activity for Savannah. She was busy
helping her father get ready for the Christmas season. Close to
Thanksgiving, business at the gift shopping really began to pick
up. Keeping merchandise in stock was important. Strangely, she had
not missed practicing law or even given thought to reviving the
career for which she had worked so hard. Managing the shop had come
easily to her. She had made changes that increased the profit
margin. With her customary zeal to do anything she did right, she
had studied everything she could find about how to operate a retail
business or gift shop. At her suggestion, they were now doing gift
baskets. Stuffed with Tante Marie's famous pralines and handmade
crafts, they became an instant hit.