Resisting Samantha (Hope Parish Novels Book 10) (22 page)

“What do you
have on your mind?”

“Plenty, but
in the interest of keeping it cordial, I will refrain.”

He was drunk,
slurring his words. “Jake, get on with it.”

“I was going
to give the speech for this year’s Founder’s Festival,
but I’m going to pass that honor over to you.”

“No! I
wouldn’t set foot in that sham of a festival.”

“Chase, it’s
tradition, and it raises money for the town. We’re expected to
host it,” my daddy said.

“You can’t
be serious about expecting me to participate.”

“That’s
what it means to be part of this family,” Jake said with a
smirk. “Or don’t you want to fully participate in our
traditions and celebrations? You’ve been conveniently absent
for a long time.”

I looked at my daddy
and saw the resistance. He wanted me to do this.

Something clicked in
my mind, and something cold and deadly started to unfold in my gut. I
stared at my daddy, then Jake, my eyes narrowed, my gaze unwavering.
My tone deadly quiet, I said, “Nothing has really changed, has
it?”

Jake finished off
the amber liquid in his glass. “No, everything is just the
same. Like I said, you should have just stayed in the bayou.”
He slung his weight on one hip, his smile just a little nasty.

My daddy’s
face was white, and I could feel his indignation. “Chase, it’s
an honor to be asked to speak.”

“I will never
deliver a speech lauding a man who betrayed his friend. Betrayed his
descendants, was a murderer, and a thief. His statue should be razed
to the ground, and this town should change its name. Colonel
Beauregard Sutton should be forgotten, even as his ashes are now
dust.”

“What?”
my daddy roared, straightening, his pride rushing to the family’s
defense in a huff of anger. “You’re my son, and if you
want to be a part of this family, you will never bring that up
again.”

I looked at Jake,
and his self-satisfied expression made it abundantly clear. My family
wanted me back on their terms. I should have known. “I wanted
this to work, Daddy, but you won’t let go, and neither will you
Jake. You’ll choke on your own pride before you’ll face
those principles you’ve shunted to the side.”

I turned to go.

“Chase!”
my daddy bellowed, and the tone and volume of his voice brought the
women to the door. I met my momma’s stricken eyes, then my
sister’s, whose tears were already welling.

My chin came up and
I stared at him, my expression tight with defiance. “I won’t
come back on those terms. And that, for me, is final.”

“Then I guess
you’re no longer welcome here,” Jake said flatly. I
expected to see triumph written all over his face, but there was
nothing but relief. He turned away, refusing to meet my eyes and
poured another drink.

Samantha came to me
and wrapped her arm around my waist. I was thankful for her support.

Brax sauntered in
from the kitchen, took one look at River Pearl, and pulled her into
his arms, muttering, “Sonofabitch.”

That summed it up
and drove it deep. Thomas Wolfe had been right.

You couldn’t
ever
go home again.

***

I fully expected my
sister to show up—River Pearl was like a dog with a bone—or
Brax, but when my momma walked into the shop, I was blindsided.

She looked around,
her expression telling me that she approved of the place. She
appeared as put-together as ever, always in command of herself.

“I’m not
going to change my mind,” I said, my tone flat.

“I didn’t
come here to change your mind. I happen to agree with you. That dead
man has caused nothing but heartache for both the Suttons and the
Outlaws.”

That was another
shocker. For a minute I was speechless while I stared at her.

“I didn’t
come here after all this time to ask you to do what you had so
clearly rejected ten years ago. I love you, Chase. You’re my
son, and our family is so fractured. Don’t you think I know
Jake is unhappy? Don’t you think his ambush was a way to serve
his own ends?” Her tone entreating, she came forward and put
her hands on the counter, releasing a breath. “But your daddy
has come so far. He just needs to let go so our own accomplishments
and upstanding qualities shine through.”

“What do you
expect me to do?”

“Fight. I want
you to fight for this, because you’re a Sutton. Stand up for
what is right. Make the changes you think you need to make. Be
persuasive. Or just throw caution to the wind and take action.
Something, Chase. I don’t want to wait another ten years for a
second chance at having my family united.”

She turned to go,
then turned back. “I know you’ve got that in you. You
always have.” She looked around the shop and smiled. “It’s
beautiful, what you’ve created here. I am so inordinately proud
of you, I could burst. Next time you’re doing some of that
redfish fishing, you bring me ten pounds.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded and
closed the door quietly behind her.

Samantha came out of
the residence and leaned both elbows on the counter. “She’s
right you know.”

I reached out and
mussed up her hair. “I know.”

She scrunched up her
face and batted my hand away. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t
know.”

SAMANTHA

I woke up with a
smile on my face, my arms around warm, firm skin. I loved this moment
before I was fully awake, the comforting feeling of being this close
to Chase. He gently caught me by the back of my head, carefully
repositioning my weight on his shoulder, flexing his fingers. I
opened my eyes to find him flat on his back with my head nestled in
the crook of his arm.

“Did I make
your arm go to sleep again?”

He smiled and pulled
me tight to him for a quick hug. “Just some pins and needles. I
can take it.”

We were in the bed
he’d helped me assemble, my bedroom now complete and simply
gorgeous. Now I just had to get the rest of the house done. Still no
dining table, and no comfy furniture to sit on. I envied his gorgeous
living room with that excellent gray couch that a body could sink
into. Not to mention the beautiful side chair with a leaf pattern of
turquoise and greens and blues I loved. And the old trunk for the
coffee table. I also adored his dining room set with the distressed,
reclaimed wood.

Evie, River Pearl,
and Chase’s mom were going to help me look for what I needed. I
hoped I could find the right pieces.

Chase’s cell
phone rang and he answered.

He sat up straight
in bed. “What the hell?!? I’m on my way.” He was
shoving back the covers and grabbing clothes.

“What’s
wrong?“

“That was
Ethan. He was going to handle the shop today and check traps for me.
All my traps have been vandalized, and someone broke into the shop
last night and trashed it. I’ve been robbed.”

A shiver went down
my spine. The feeling of being watched, the weird things that had
been happening in Imogene’s. Chase’s tires slashed, and
now this. I was worried we were dealing with a stalker who was after
both of us. But who?

“I’m
coming with you.” I threw the covers off and stepped in
something gritty. I looked down and said, “What the heck?”

Chase was almost
dressed. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s
this gritty stuff all over the floor.” I bent down and realized
I’d displaced a tin of fine, black grit.

Chase came around
the bed. “Sam, look.” He pointed at the mosquito netting
above the bed, the swath draped across the top of the structure.

“What is
that?” he said.

“It’s
the sigil. The one from my gris-gris bag.” I stepped closer to
the bed and reached out. The symbol was infused into the netting.
“AnnClaire is getting noisier.”

I reached for her
voodoo handbook and flipped to her protection spells. I found what I
wanted three pages in. Must be a spell she used often. There was a
distinct fingerprint of what look like soot on one of the pages.

Chase sat down next
to me. “What did you find?”

“Black salt. I
think that’s what’s in the tin, and she somehow burned it
into the mosquito netting.” A shiver went down my spine. “This
is what it says:”

“
During the
waning moon, I like to prepare a big batch of Voodoo Black Salt. The
Waning Moon means the moon is decreasing in size, moving from the
Full Moon towards the New Moon. This is a time to do works that
banish, release, reverse. It’s also a good time for purifying
and cleansing. Since Black Salt is used for both of these purposes, I
spend some time before the full moon to make a big batch of it.

“
This salt
protects against negative energy and removes hexes and jinxes.

“
Ingredients:
2 parts sea salt, 1 part scraping from a cast iron pot. For extra
protection, add Clary Sage oil, White Sage leaves, crushed, 1 small
Jet stone, crushed.”

I sniffed the pan of
black grit. The distinct odor of sage was present, along with a
strong scent of evergreen. That was white sage.

I looked at him.
“She’s stepping up her game.”

“She’s
worried,” he said. “I’m going to the shop.”

“I’m
coming with you.”

“I was just
about to suggest that.” He picked up the gris-gris bag and
handed it to me. “Put this on.”

“Chase.”

“Come on. It
can’t hurt. She’s obviously worried about you. I’d
feel better if you wore it.”

“All right.”
I slipped the cord over my head and dropped it beneath my shirt.

When we got inside
the shop, the carnage was heartbreaking. Everything had been pulled
out of the cooler—bait, fish, crabs, crawfish—and thrown
around the floor, glass cases had been smashed, all the clothing torn
to shreds, costly fishing poles broken in half, the fishing line
snarled and tangled around lures and tackle. The register tray was
open and empty.

The gris-gris bag
heated for a moment, warm against my skin. I covered it with my hand,
but I felt nothing against my palm. It must have been my imagination.

Ethan stood beside
Chase, looking sick. “I found it this way. The door was wide
open.” He set his hand on Chase’s shoulder. He nodded
toward me in greeting. “Miz Wharton.” He held out his
hand, “Ethan Fairchild.”

I’d only seen
a picture of Ethan before he went into the Marines. Verity shared it
one day over a piece of pie, back before she’d been dating
Boone. At the time, she seemed like the weight of the world had been
on her shoulders, but I now knew it had been because she had to give
up her child, a child fathered by Boone. I immediately thought about
the day Scott was born, and the memory wrenched at my soul, squeezing
my heart.

“Samantha,
please. Nice to finally meet you. Saw you a few times in Imogene’s.”

He hadn’t
changed, except for being taller and broader through the shoulders
and wider across the chest —okay
really
broad, and
really
wide. His hair was very dark, black as jet. He still had that intense
gaze, and a face made up of angles, not curves, his eyes an
intelligent, piercing blue. He also had a close-cropped beard and
mustache that added to his dark good looks.

In that picture he’d
looked cute. Well, cute didn’t begin to encompass the man he’d
become. Handsome wasn’t the right word, either, not if it
conjured up images of the pretty-faced, square-jawed men plastered
all over Pinterest. Ethan Fairchild was not pretty. He was striking,
serious even when he smiled, and looked like he could easily break
someone in half.

Chase had charisma
in spades, and he was handsome, gorgeous, his face beautifully put
together, but in contrast, Ethan had animal magnetism, along with an
air of danger. I would say it was his military training, but the bad
boy vibe I got off his picture had only increased tenfold since he’d
grown into a man. I got the same vibe off Chase’s also very
striking brother Jake. But Ethan was more centered, with a balance
that put me at ease, where Jake was off-balance with more of a lost
vibe to him.

“Oh, I’ve
been in more than a few times. Your food is out of this world,”
Ethan said, reaching out to shake my hand, his smile broadening.

I responded
automatically, and when our hands clasped, I felt not only his warmth
and strength, but his subtle awareness of me as a woman. It was in
the ease of his grip, the light pressure of his fingers, and the
unspoken appreciation in his eyes. As a greeting, it was both
unnerving and charming, and I got the impression that I was very much
in the company of a gentleman—and a maverick.

Chase was viewing
the mess, looking shell-shocked. I wrapped my arm around his waist.

“The plane and
the boats?” he asked.

That piercing gaze
intensified along with the danger. “He sank them. If I had been
here…”

“I wouldn’t
want you to put your life in danger, Ethan.”

Ethan’s strong
jaw flexed. “I can take care of myself.”

“All this can
be replaced. You can’t. I have insurance.”

“I’m
sorry, Chase,” he said, looking it. “The residence is
fine. Looks like he tried to break in, but something must have
spooked him, because nothing’s disturbed.”

“Can you help
me pick up this mess?” Ethan nodded. “There are trash
bags behind the counter.”

I grabbed a broom to
sweep up the glass.

“Looks like
you’ve had some trouble, here Chase,” Sheriff Mike
Dalton, Aubree’s stepfather, she was married to Booker Outlaw,
said as he picked his way across the floor. “Anyone hurt?”

“No, thank
God,” Chase said.

“Well, let me
get your report and we’ll start working on this.” He
tipped his hat. “Miz Wharton, you going to have any more of
that pecan pie?”