Restoring Hope (7 page)

“Gettin’ your palms read, sugar?” Nic asked. There was amusement in his voice just like she knew there would be.

“Um, no, just checking out the stores in the area before heading to work.”

Hope stepped back from his touch needing to distance herself; the masculine smell of his cologne was too appealing. “It was good seeing you again. Have a good day,” Hope rushed out and then turned quickly not waiting for his reply.

Nic stood there with a confused look on his face as he watched Hope walk away from him. He didn’t need any distractions in his life, but something about the woman spoke to him, and the more he was around her, the harder it was for him to ignore her. When he turned to leave, he caught sight of a woman in the tarot card window looking in the direction Hope had just gone. Her face was full of sorrow as she watched Hope disappear down the street and then her eyes moved to his. They stood there staring at each and a small chill ran down his spine as she smiled sadly at him, nodded once and then turned from the window and left. Nic stood there a moment longer and then looked back the way Hope had gone. Making a decision, he didn’t understand, he put a nightcap at The Bayou on his agenda for the evening. He didn’t normally go to the bar on the nights his son was with him, but Nicky’s soccer practice got out later tonight, so after his daily run to Café du Monde for beignets, he intended to break his pattern.

Chapter Five

The musky, manly scent of Nic’s cologne lingered on Hope, his dark, soulful eyes rambling around in her mind’s eye. In another place, another time, if she were another person, she might have been tempted, but it was out of the question now. Heading to The Bayou early, she figured she could hang out in the break room until her shift started. The encounter with the Madame LeFarr left her shaken; exploring more shops had lost its appeal. Entering through the back, Hope headed to the break room and hung up her purse in her locker then pulled out a book she’d been trying to read; a romantic suspense with a sheriff and a reporter based out of Colorado. Why couldn’t her husband have been like the sheriff in this book? Possessive but loving, she knew this man wouldn’t lay a hand on his wife; he was a real man, one who protected the heroine and fought for her. That was what Hope had been looking for when she met him, and his possessiveness made her think he was that type of man. One who protects you, keeps you safe, and loves you unconditionally. She should have known men like that are only in romance novels.

Turning the page and laughing out loud at the ridiculous situations the heroine got herself in, she was smiling when Abby walked into the room.

“Good book?” Abby asked as she put her own purse in her locker.

“Yeah, the hero and heroine argue a lot but their conversations are hilarious.”

“Sounds good. You workin’ the floor again tonight or in the kitchen?”

“Oh, um, that was just for one night to help out, I’ll be in the kitchen tonight.”

“You got lucky last night waiting on Nic and his son. They’ve been coming here for years; easy customers and big Nic isn’t hard on the eyes, either,” she laughed. Hope nodded but didn’t reply and soon felt Abby’s eyes on her. She looked up at the woman, and it seemed like she wanted to ask her something.

“Is everything ok with you?” Abby finally blurted out.

“Sorry?”

“You just seem, I don’t know, sad.”

“Oh,” was all the reply Hope had for her. What did she say? She was sad, tired—lonely.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t pry. But, if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay. I won’t judge you; we girls have to stick together, ya know?”

“That’s sweet, but I’m fine, really. I like to keep to myself; I’m just shy.” Hope looked back at her book hoping to end the conversation, but Abby seemed inclined to talk.

“Did you like working the front of the bar last night?”

“Sure, it was different but I prefer the kitchen. Less chance of being grabbed by a man,” Hope laughed.

“You’d make more money out front. With your looks and that figure, the tips you’d make in an evening would make up the difference in pay.”

“That’s good to know, but I’m happy back here.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know, I’ll put in a good word with Rose and we can share days if you want.”

It shocked Hope that Abby would be willing to share hours with her when she probably needed them herself. She knew Abby had three kids to feed, and that was even more reason for Hope to like her and not ask for work out front. Abby needed the money more than she did.

The conversation lulled, as Abby turned to get her apron for the night, when Rose entered the break room as Hope watched Abby getting ready to go on shift. She stood there flipping through the schedule, talking to herself and shaking her head. The big woman always made Hope smile; she had a presence that brightened a room when she entered.

“We got too many on tonight. Don’t know what I was tinkin’ when I made dis’ schedule,” Rose complained. Abby turned suddenly, a huge smile on her face and jumped into the conversation.

“Hope and I can take the night off if you need to cut some people. I’d love a night off, and I already have Eric at home with the kids. What do you say Hope, wanna get a drink with me instead of working in that hot kitchen?” Before Hope could answer, Rose smiled nodding her head, agreeing with the plan.

“Sure she do, you both get outta here and have some fun while you still young.”

“Oh, that’s ok, I can just go—”

“No—” both women shouted at the same time, looking back and forth at each other. Hope could swear there was almost panic in their voice.

“But—”

“It settled it is. You and Abby will go and have a good time yes you will.”

“But—”

“Let’s blow this place, Hope, grab your purse before she changes her mind,” Abby joined in, closing her locker, her purse in hand moving towards Hope.

“But—” Hope tried to get out again, but neither would let her talk.

“While I’m tinkin’ about it, you didn’t get tipped out last night, you run off too quickly,” Rose informed Hope and then pulled out a wad of bills handing it to her. Staring at the money, she was confused, she was sure she’d gotten all her tips the night before. Turning to Rose, Hope tried to tell Rose she’d made a mistake.

“This isn’t—”

“You done good last night,
‘tite ange
, take your tips and go have fun.” Before she could protest, Abby grabbed Hope’s purse, handed it to her and started pushing her towards the door. Trying, but failing to explain she would just go home, Hope was surprised at how quickly she’d lost control. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to excuse herself from a night out on the town, but no one would listen.
How the hell did this happen
Hope wondered as she dragged her feet.

“You girls have fun, have a drink for Maman, you hear?” Hope heard Rose say as Abby pushed her out the backdoor and into the alley.

Abby folded her arm through Hope’s and started walking them towards the street, pulling Hope with her as her feet protested. Going out on the town didn’t seem smart, but she hated to let Abby down, mothers needed a night out every once in a while, she figured. Keeping her mouth shut, Hope decided one drink wouldn’t hurt; she’d just keep her eyes peeled for anyone suspicious. Though, in the crowds of the French Quarter, she felt safe from detection.

As they headed down Frenchman’s street, they kept passing bar after bar. In no hurry to stop it seemed, Abby kept walking and talking about her kids and husband. She explained that she loved them, but they drove her nuts most days, so a night away from them would be just the ticket. What she didn’t do Hope noticed, was stop at a bar. Not knowing the area well, Hope kept quiet and kept listening, laughing and responding in the appropriate places and before she knew it, they were on Decatur Street, and Jackson Square was in view.

She’d toured the square once since arriving but hadn’t had much time to take in the area extensively. Jackson Square was a large park, known for the artist and musicians who shared their craft for tourists. Artists drew their portraits and the musicians performed for tips. It sat directly across from the historic St. Louis Cathedral, with a large statue of Andrew Jackson, the namesake for the park, in the center.

It was early evening when they arrived, and a Jazz band had set up in the center of the square next to Jackson’s statue. They were playing bluesy tunes while tourists listened, and artists drew, but Abby kept Hope walking past the park until they crossed the street and headed straight to Café du Monde. This café was renowned for their
café au lait
and its French-style beignets. With its green and white striped awning covering the patio seating, and just cattycorner from Jackson Square, it was the perfect location to people watch. When they made their way through, Hope could see it was full to the brim with customers taking a break and enjoying the heady coffee and sweet beignets.

Abby pushed through the crowds of people looking around the patio for a table. After a moment more of searching, she moved them the edge of the patio that overlooked the square and found a table close to the street. The table had a great view of the square and all the tourists milling around, allowed them to people watch while they had their coffee. Though, Hope was surprised Abby had chosen a coffee house instead of a bar, but she wasn’t going complain, this was more her speed. She didn’t need to be drinking; she needed to keep her wits about her at all times.

Once they had placed their orders, unfortunately for Hope, Abby wasted no time in grilling her for answers.

“So, tell me about yourself, Hope,” Abby asked as they waited for their coffee. Hope had rehearsed her answer thousands of times, and the story she told people to protect them and herself about her past, rolled off her tongue with practiced ease.

“I just moved here from Arkansas, recently divorced, I wanted to start over in a new city.”

“Arkansas? You don’t have an accent.”

“I’m not from there, we moved for my husband’s work.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“Here and there, I was an army brat.”

“Why didn’t you move closer to your parents?”

“My parents are deceased, car accident.” Abby’s eyes widened then she gave Hope a small sad smile, as she reached across the table and grabbed her hand. She felt bad about the deceit, but told herself it was for the best. She wouldn’t be here long, anyway.

“I’m sorry that must be hard. No kids then?”

“No, my husband was, um, sterile.”

“Well, you’re still young enough; women have babies all the time in their forties; you should find yourself a good man and have one before it’s too late.” Ignoring the knot, she always got when she thought about what she’d lost; Hope smiled and nodded in agreement. Luckily, for Hope, the coffee and fresh beignets came before Abby could dig deeper into her past.

The coffee was sublime; the beignets smothered in powdered sugar and so good, Hope thought about buying some just to have at her apartment. After consuming their treat, they moved across the street to view the artists who had set up around the outside of the square. Several were very good and one man was wasting his talent sitting there in the square. He should be painting somewhere with a setting sun and offering up his work to a gallery somewhere.

“You know, Hope, I meant what I said. If you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener,” Abby began, taking Hope by surprise.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“But you won’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied . . . Look, Rose and I have both noticed how quiet you are. We’re your friends, and I hope you know that you can trust us to keep any secrets you have.” Hope knew that Rose was worried about her, she could see it in her eyes when she caught Rose watching her, but she had no idea that Abby had noticed, as well.

“I know I don’t talk much about myself, but there really isn’t much to tell, that’s all.”

“Uh, huh. Well, keep in mind the offer is there, I mean it.”

“Okay, thanks, but I’m fine, really,” Hope replied, hoping Abby would change the subject.

As they wandered the front of the park, Abby’s attention seemed to be on the people, as if she was looking for someone. Hope was just about to ask if her husband was coming to join them when she heard the sound of a horse snorting air through its nose. She loved horses, dreamt of owning one as a little girl, but she’d never ridden. Turning, she saw a walnut colored horse and large carriage with the driver standing on the street corner. The driver offered rides around the French Quarter at a leisurely pace, the sign said, so she walked over to the horse and rubbed its nose, clucking her tongue at the horse. As she stepped down off the curb to get closer to the animal, a nearby car backfired, startling the great beast. The horse jerked its head back, knocking Hope in the chest and sending her to the ground just as the horse reared up. She threw her arms across her head to protect it; had no doubt the animal would come down on top of her. Hope heard Abby scream “Oh, my god,” just as strong arms suddenly grabbed her at the waist, pulled her off the ground and onto the sidewalk. Shaken, positive she was going to be trampled by a horse, Hope turned to say thank you and found the same dark, soulful eyes looking down on her for the second time in one day.