Torn Apart (4 page)

He was supposed to be getting ready for church, but he was playing Mario Kart on his DS instead of getting dressed and didn’t want to stop. He’d managed to get on his blue jeans and socks, but the red-and-blue-striped shirt Mama had laid out for him to put on was still on the bed beside him.

He glanced up at the door, then back at the game, telling himself he would finish dressing in a minute. The only witness to his dawdling at the moment was Oliver, his favorite sleeping companion, and from the permanent smile on Oliver’s face, he didn’t seem to mind the delay at all.

Katie was secretly excited to have Bobby for the weekend and refused to feel guilty that J.R. was missing out. After her breakdown, she’d consoled herself with the fact that she’d been right about Macklan Brothers. They had given him a promotion, only to fall back into their old ways and send him off on a job. If she had moved to New Orleans, then she and Bobby would be there alone this weekend.

She knew it made no sense, but it didn’t seem to matter that they were always alone in Bordelaise. Bordelaise was home. Bordelaise was safe. Bordelaise was not the city from hell.

She glanced at the clock as she put down her hairbrush. It was almost time for them to leave for church. She eyed her reflection one last time, trying to ignore the tiny frown lines between her eyebrows and at the corners of her eyes. They hadn’t been there three months ago and were the outward signs of sleepless nights spent in regret for what she’d done.

Convinced she could no more hide the lines than she could wish away the mess her life was in, she tossed the makeup sponge in the trash. Makeup couldn’t fix what was wrong with her life. That was up to her.

She glanced at the clock, slipped into white, low-heeled shoes, then smoothed her hands down the front of her white eyelet blouse, tucking it a little tighter down into the waistband of her pink linen slacks, then grabbed the matching jacket. Time to head out the door for church or she and Bobby were going to be late.

“Bobby! Are you ready?” she called.

“Almost!” he yelled, and tossed the DS aside and grabbed for his shirt.

She glanced out the window, then decided to put her umbrella in her purse, since there was a possibility of thundershowers later in the day. The eye of Hurricane Bonnie was headed for Houston, which meant it would miss Louisiana. That was good news. But the storm’s by-products could not be ignored. Strong thunderstorms would develop, along with stronger winds inland, but they should be home long before that happened.

Since they lived only two blocks from church, they often walked, especially in warm weather. She decided to walk again today, knowing it would be a good way for Bobby to use up some of his energy before they got there, where the rule of thumb was to be quiet. He was a good boy, but quiet wasn’t always on the top of his list.

Katie walked down the hall to Bobby’s room, then paused in the doorway. He was sitting on his bed, playing one of his computer games.

“Bobby, you’re still in your sock feet. Where are your good shoes?”

He laid down the DS and pointed toward the shiny brown loafers.

“But, Mama, if I wear those shoes, they’re gonna stick on the slide.”

She smiled. He had a valid point. The gym set at their church was an amazing assortment of swings, ladders, slides and tunnels, and he loved to play on it.

“Okay…but make sure you wear the tennis shoes you wear to school, not the ones you wear when Daddy takes you fishing.”

His smile, so like his father’s, pierced her heart as he bounded off the bed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and raced to the closet.

“I’m going to the kitchen to get the cake. I’ll meet you at the front door,” Katie warned.

“I’ll hurry,” Bobby said, and dived into the back of his closet in search of the shoes in question.

A few minutes later they were on the sidewalk, heading along the shady path on their way to church. The weather was warm and muggy—typical Louisiana weather for this time of year. Katie was carrying the cake she’d made for the dinner—a three-layer coconut with creamy orange filling—in her best Tupperware cake carrier.

She couldn’t help smiling at she watched Bobby bouncing along beside her, then in front of her, then off to the side to investigate interesting rocks and flowers in the yards they passed. It was like walking with a puppy off a leash.

“Look, Mama!” Bobby cried, as he pointed to a large rosebush blooming in a neighbor’s yard. “We’ve got a rosebush with flowers that color at our house in New Orleans, only bigger.”

Katie’s smile slid sideways as a bit of her good mood disappeared. She couldn’t stop the twinge of envy, knowing he had already adjusted to the fact that his parents lived in different houses. It reminded her of a dream she’d had Friday night after J.R.’s call.

In the dream, her mother had come and crawled in bed with her, and told her not to be afraid. Then she kept telling her to go, go, go. She didn’t need to wonder where it was her mother wanted her to go, or why she’d had the dream. The guilt she’d lived with was overwhelming. But the dream had set the wheels in motion.

She was beginning to realize she was the only one who could fix the break in her marriage, and was going to tell J.R., when she saw him again, that if he didn’t mind, she would like to see the new house. It couldn’t hurt to visit. If she was still afraid, she could always come home. She just hoped to God J.R. still wanted her there.

Bobby skipped a few yards ahead of her and pointed to another yard.

“Look, Mama. Wisteria. Your favorite. Daddy planted some of that for you last month.”

“They
are
beautiful,” Katie said, as her conscience kicked again.

J.R. was always thinking of her. Why hadn’t she been able to do the same for him? Just like that, another bit of her good mood was gone.

Bobby didn’t notice the shift in her emotions. He was too preoccupied with sharing his news.

“Yeah. And Daddy’s going to buy me a puppy. I have always wanted a puppy, haven’t I, Mama?”

Katie bit her lip to keep from crying. “Yes, you sure have.”

“It would be good to have a dog. He would keep me safe from monsters and stuff,” Bobby said, and then squatted down to examine a line of ants crossing the sidewalk a few yards ahead of her.

Katie frowned. It was the first time he’d mentioned monsters since the night he’d had that nightmare. She shifted the cake carrier to a more comfortable position, then clasped his hand as he moved back into step beside her.

“Bobby?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still have bad dreams about monsters?”

He frowned. “Sometimes.”

“Do you have them at Daddy’s house?”

“The monster doesn’t live in New Orleans. The monster lives here.”

Katie’s stomach knotted. Lord! She’d had no idea he’d been living with this fear. This was terrible! Now she felt guiltier than ever.

They paused at the intersection as a late-model blue truck drove past, then they crossed together onto the church grounds.

“Here we are,” she said brightly, as they started up the walk. “Remember. We’re staying for dinner after the services.”

“I know,” Bobby said. “That means I get to play on the slide after dinner.”

“You sure do,” she said, and then smiled at the elderly man who greeted them as they entered the church.

“Mornin’, Miz Earle…Bobby…. Ya’ll come on in outta that heat.”

Katie smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Franklin. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain,” he said, then pointed to the cake carrier. “That wouldn’t happen to be coconut cake, now, would it?”

She grinned. It was her specialty. “You know it is,” she said.

“Mmm-hmm…I’ll be havin’ me a piece of that for dessert,” he said. “See you later.”

She nodded, then walked Bobby down the hall to his classroom before dropping the cake off in the kitchen.

A short while later she slipped into a seat beside a friend and picked up a songbook. Opal Passmore, the church organist, played the first stanza of the song—a signal that the services were about to begin. People began ending their conversations and hurrying to their seats while the thick walls of the old church masked the sound of the rising wind.

As he drove past the intersection by the Methodist Church, Newt Collins could not have stopped his treacherous thoughts any more than he could have stopped breathing.

Oh, Lordy…would you looky here! There’s pretty little Bobby Earle standing on the street corner with his mama, and doesn’t he look cute? Blue jeans, and a red-and-blue-striped shirt, with his hair all combed and parted on the side. Pretty as a picture.

Newt was so excited he circled the block one more time in hopes of a second glimpse. But by the time he drove around again, they’d gone inside.

It hadn’t taken long for news to get around Bordelaise that the Earles were separated. But for Newt, the downside of that had been that the kid was no longer in town on the weekends. Newt didn’t know what had changed that had put him here today and didn’t care. So instead of going straight home as he’d planned, he drove past Pinky’s Get and Go, grabbed a cold Pepsi and a Snickers bar, and headed back toward the church.

The kids sometimes played out on the church playground after services. Might as well find a shade tree to park under to enjoy his snack. And if he happened to be parked near that playground when the kids came out, well, it was a free country. A man should be able to enjoy a snack wherever and whenever he so chose. Even when the wind began to pick up a bit, it didn’t concern him. The day was hot as hell. A good breeze was a welcome relief.

J.R. was at the helipad, waiting for the second helicopter to arrive. The hurricane had not shifted course, which meant the rig had to be evacuated. One chopper had already come and gone, taking the crew from day shift and their chief, Charlie Watts. J.R. had stayed behind with the men from the night shift.

The wind was rising hourly, and he was starting to worry. If the chopper didn’t come soon, they would be stranded, and he was sick and tired of playing nursemaid to Stanton Blalock and doing his work while the other man lay in his bunk or hung out in the mess room, eating and playing cards.

Blalock felt no shame for what he’d done and blamed the accident that had sent the welder to the hospital on faulty equipment. Even worse, a few of his buddies had chosen to back up the lies, which was causing a division in the ranks. There were the “feel sorry for Blalock” crowd, and the “feed Blalock to the fishes” crowd. A time or two, it had taken all of J.R.’s people skills to keep the two factions from an all-out brawl. All he wanted was to get the sorry bastard to dry land, and then get in his truck and go home.

The wind was stronger than ever now, which tied the knot in his belly even tighter. In the back of his mind, he already knew the chopper pilot wouldn’t fly in this weather, but until he got the news firsthand, he could still hope.

Just as he started to turn around, Blalock walked up behind him and punched him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Earle! What’s up with the ride? When are we gettin’ off this damned barge?”

J.R. gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to punch Blalock back, only harder—and in the face.

“We’ll leave when the chopper gets here, and then only if it gets in far enough ahead of the storm,” J.R. snapped; then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Blalock’s face.

The son of a bitch was high again. But how? J.R. had dumped what he thought was Blalock’s stash. Obviously he hadn’t found everything. Blalock’s pupils were dilated, and his body was tense.

“Damn it, Blalock! You’re high again. What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“I’m not,” Stanton muttered.

“And I’m not stupid! Just get the hell out of my sight.”

The other man was cursing beneath his breath as he stumbled back toward his sleeping quarters.

Suddenly a strong gust of wind swept across the landing pad—strong enough that Stanton grabbed hold of a railing to steady his footing, while J.R. ducked his head and leaned into the wind. Stanton cursed.

“Hey, Earle! I’m goin’ to the head!” Stanton yelled. “If the chopper gets here before I get back, don’t leave without me.”

Like that would happen, J.R. thought, and glanced back at Stanton as he walked away, just to make sure he was going where he said he was.

At that moment it dawned on him that this was Sunday. His gut knotted. Katie and Bobby would be in church. He couldn’t help but picture her sitting alone on the pew where they used to sit together, then wondered who, if anyone, sat beside her now.

It was difficult to accept that he’d been the one who’d chosen to separate the family. He’d been so sure she would come around. It was ironic that he’d finally gotten the job of his dreams and a house to come home to every night, and he was still alone.

Suddenly his hard hat flew off his head. He turned to grab it, but he was too late as it went rolling along the landing pad, then banged against the railing. He glanced up at the sky again, then ran to retrieve his hat. Once he caught it, he headed for the office on the run. Inside, he reached for his cell phone. He had a feeling the pilot and chopper had already been diverted, but he needed to confirm. He punched in the numbers to the home office, then waited for an answer.

“Macklan Brothers. How may I help you?”

“Angela, it’s J.R. I’m still out on the rig. What’s the status of the chopper?”

“Hang on a sec and let me check.”

The receptionist put him on hold, but only for a few moments, and then his boss came on the line.

“J.R. You still there?” Brent Macklan asked.

He sighed. Where else would he be? The gulf made a damned good moat.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“The pilot who was en route to pick you up has gone off the radar. They think he went down in the gulf. I’m sorry as I can be, but I don’t dare try to get another chopper out in this weather.”

“Oh, my God,” J.R. mumbled. “Was McCoy the pilot?”

“Yes.”

J.R. felt sick. He and Hank McCoy had gone to work for Macklan Brothers the same year.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” he said.

“How’s the weather out there?” Brent asked.