Bayou My Love: A Novel Read online

  “Somebody needs to call him out for being a jackass.”

  “That somebody doesn’t need to be you. Don’t go stirring up trouble.”

  “I’d say it’s pretty well stirred.”

  He stared at me like he might sling me over his shoulder again and lock me up in his closet. “You are one stubborn woman.”

  “I’m a big girl, Jack. You worry about you, and let me worry about me.” I turned and stalked toward the house.

  “Would you let me handle this?” he said, and muttered something that sounded vaguely French.

  “You could at least have the courtesy to curse at me in English,” I shouted over my shoulder. I could still hear him mumbling when I got up to the porch.

  ~~~~

  A little while later, Jack came back to the house. “One of the boys is coming to give me a ride to town,” he said, pulling his boots on. “My truck’s ready, and I thought I might get four Jeep-sized tires while I was out. That is, if you’d like me to worry about you for a brief moment.”

  I bit my lip to hide a smile. “Suit yourself.”

  He smiled too, just barely. “But I suppose you want to put them on yourself.”

  As badly as I wanted to stay mad at him, he sure made it hard to do.

  He glanced over at me and winked. “Maybe we could trade favors,” he added.

  Before I could answer, he turned away. A rusted-out pickup truck pulled up in the drive and blew the horn. A long tanned arm waved out the window, and Jack stood. “See you in a while, sugar. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  “That’s funny coming from you.”

  He sauntered through the grass to the truck. As soon as he climbed in, the engine roared and sputtered, and they rumbled through the cypress grove, a cloud of dust following them.

  ~~~~

  With Vergie’s room full of plaster and shingles, there was no hope of working on it. Instead I focused on the other rooms, trying to ignore the pounding of boot heels on the roof and the scream of saw blades. When I’d finally had all I could stand, I went outside and stared up at the roof. The sun was beating down, and the breeze had died. This was one of those days that made me want to lie in a tub of ice and drink spiked lemonade. I filled three glasses with ice water and took them into the yard. I didn’t know how those guys were still on the roof, since it must have felt like simmering in a giant frying pan, but there they were. Two of them were hunched over, the saw still whining. I walked to the spot just below them, stepping over the pieces of rotted lumber that had been flung from the roof. They were scattered all around, like debris from an explosion. I yelled as loud as I could, and when the saw stopped, I yelled again, flailing my arm until one of the guys waved.

  “Hey,” I called out. “How’s it going up there?”

  Randall, a friend of Jack’s from high school, walked to the eave and leaned over, cupping his hands over his mouth. “It’s fine. We’re just cutting out the bad spots now.” He’d taken his shirt off and was already red.

  “I brought y’all some water,” I shouted.

  “Thanks,” he said. “We’ll be down in a few.”

  I set the tray on the little glass-top table that was situated between two lawn chairs.

  It was nearly two. They’d said it would take a few hours, but if they were only now pulling out the rot, this was going to stretch into the next day. There was no way they’d stay up there when the afternoon heat set in.

  “This seems like more than just the corner,” I hollered, motioning to the pieces by my feet.

  “It was a little bigger than we first thought. Not to worry, though. We’ll get you straight.”

  “How big?” I asked, but his partner, Mike, started the saw up again, drowning me out. Randall waved and turned back to the hole. As I walked back to the porch, I thought of the bill doubling, tripling. The dog grunted from under the hammock, her paws over her ears.

  It seemed like every time I fixed something in the house, something bigger fell apart. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but I thought I’d been making steady progress until all of this happened. During my first walk through, I hadn’t seen structural damage or anything that indicated I’d be falling down this kind of rabbit hole. But now this house felt like it was buckling under its own weight and dragging me down with it. For the first time, I thought of calling my father and asking him to send reinforcements, or telling him to take care of it his way because I’d been too earnest. I hated the idea of confessing this to him, though, because I knew he’d already thought it. He’d humored me, sending me down to Bayou Sabine, and he was probably sitting in his office right now, waiting for my phone call. Hell, he’d probably even made a bet with the rest of the staff to see how long I could hold out down here.

  That thought alone made me want to tough it out and finish.

  And then there was Jack. If I gave up, he’d be out on his ass. I needed to hold up my end of this arrangement just as much as he did. I wanted him to stay, and as long as the house needed work, he would. I just needed to make myself a little less crazy about him, because that was the fastest way to complicate things.

  ~~~~

  Just after four, the roofers started loading up the truck. Wayne came to the porch, where I sat sanding banister rails.

  “Miss Parker, we’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “It won’t take too much extra time to fix that mishap. We found a couple more weak spots, but we’ll have her fixed in no time.”

  “But tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “We’ve got another job starting Monday. I want to get you finished up before that one starts.”

  I thanked him. Working on Sunday was completely unheard of.

  “Mike got that bedroom all cleaned up,” he said. “Most of it anyway.”

  “I really appreciate it,” I said, still a bit dumbstruck. These guys must have owed Jack big time. I made a mental note to thank Jack properly. What exactly that would entail, I wasn’t quite sure.

  Mike, who looked all of nineteen, approached, carrying something under his arm. “You know this was back there?” he asked. He held out his tanned arms, holding what appeared to be an alligator skull.

  “Mike!” Wayne scolded. “What have I told you about snooping in people’s yards?”

  “You going to tell me that was in the roof?” I said, and the older man laughed.

  “No, it was out back,” Mike said. “Half-buried. I saw a jawbone sticking out and got a little curious—I sort of collect skulls and things.”

  Wayne shrugged as if to say, Kids these days.

  I turned it over in my hands. Green and red dots were painted around the eye sockets, faded but still visible. It looked like something had been carved in the snout, but I couldn’t make out anything legible.

  “You want to keep it?” Mike asked. “You mind if I take it?”

  “Mike,” Wayne said. “What did I tell you about bumming things off people?”

  “I guess the dog dragged it up,” I said, eyeing the skull. “But let me hang on to it for the time being.”

  Mike’s brow furrowed.

  “Son, you got a hundred of those things,” Wayne said. “Where would you put one more?” He rolled his eyes and gave me a smile. “See you in the morning,” he said, steering Mike away.

  I turned the skull over in my hands, staring at the empty sockets, the ragged teeth. Bits of dirt clung to it, though it looked bright enough to have been bleached. I shivered, thinking of the animal it had belonged to and the last place I had seen one like this.

  It had been resting on a shelf in Duchess’ voodoo shop.

  Chapter 12

  I was in Vergie’s room, sweeping bits of plaster and tar into piles when I heard Jack open the front door. I’d worked myself into a frenzy by then, worrying about that stupid skull and how it ended up in the yard. When Jack called my name I was already coming down the stairs, stuffing it into a duffle bag.

  “I need a favor,” I said, rushing past him to the door.

  “S
o you want those tires on?” Holding a jack and a wrench by his sides, he looked like the poster boy for Triple-A roadside assistance. “I figure it’s probably my fault, so—”

  I slung the bag over my shoulder and said, “There’s no time.”

  “Say what?”

  “I need you to take me somewhere.” I pulled on his arm, but he didn’t budge.

  “It won’t take but a little while to put them on,” he said.

  “We have to go now.” I pried the wrench and the jack from his hands. “She won’t be there much longer.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Who won’t be there? What’s going on?”

  “Come on,” I said, hooking my arm in his. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “Darlin’, what’s got into you?”

  “Give me your keys,” I commanded. If he moved any slower, I’d have to dig them out of his pocket myself. An enjoyable task, I thought.

  Focus, Enza.

  “Look,” he said, “if you’re thinking of going out looking for Remy, you can forget it. I don’t know what you’re—”

  “I’m not going after Remy, you big lug nut. I have to see Duchess. Now will you please just come on?”

  “Who?”

  I tugged on his arm until he started walking.

  He muttered under his breath as I ran along ahead of him and climbed into the truck.

  He slid into the driver’s side with what had to be a deliberate ease meant to teach me some sort of lesson regarding patience. Nobody moved in a hurry down here, especially when you asked them to.

  Turning the key slowly, he asked, “And where to, ma’am?” drawing out every syllable.

  “Don’t make me regret letting you drive,” I said. “The faster you hit the highway, the faster I’ll explain.”

  He smirked as the gravel churned beneath us. “Oh, sure,” he said. “Now you want to move fast.”

  ~~~~

  He shook his head each time he looked at me, but he drove down into the Quarter anyway.

  “You’re cracked,” he said.

  “There was a skull lying in the yard. We need help.”

  “One of us does,” he said flatly.

  When we got out of the car, he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder, still frowning. As I led him around the corner to the little yellow building, he said, “You don’t actually think this is going to help, do you?”

  “How do you explain the sudden influx of crazy?” I hissed. “The house is falling down around us, and it was fine when I got here. Now I’ve got gris-gris and skulls and dolls and all kinds of weird shit turning up in the yard—and all hell breaks loose! You, Remy, the house, Miranda. How the hell else do you explain it?”

  He eyed the duffle bag. “This is nonsense. Skulls and dried flowers do not make a house fall apart. Rot and hurricanes do.”

  “You have to admit, this is a strange conjunction of events.”

  “Welcome to the bayou, cher. That’s our whole history in a nutshell.”

  I shoved the door open, and the bell clanged overhead.

  Jack shook his head as I parted a beaded curtain and the strings flopped back in his face. The beads tangled around his neck, and he swatted them like gnats.

  “Good grief.” He scanned the rows of potions and the baskets full of dolls, then picked up a chicken foot and waved it at me as he spoke. “You seem like such a rational gal, and then you drag me to a place like this. Talk about a strange conjunction.”

  “Shhh… Have some respect.”

  He paused, running his finger along an alligator skin that was hanging by a row of shelves. “It’s your money, darlin’.”

  I went to the back of the shop, carrying the alligator skull in the crook of my arm.

  “We’re about to close,” Duchess said, her voice trailing out from the back room. “Come back in the morning.”

  “It’s me again,” I said, peering in the back. “It’s kind of an emergency.”

  Duchess looked up from her work table, staring at me over the rim of her glasses. “Oh, Lord. Thought that gris-gris would’ve lasted longer than this.”

  “I might need something stronger,” I said, laying the skull on the table.

  There was a clatter in the front room, and I winced, following Duchess’ gaze as she leaned past the doorframe to peer into the store. She frowned and turned back to me.

  “Sorry,” Jack said, catching a bottle just as it wobbled on the shelf. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away.

  Duchess raised an eyebrow and said, “So this is the fella, then?”

  I nodded.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Duchess looked back at the skull. “This ain’t good. Ain’t good at all.” She pushed her chair back and hoisted herself up. Her bright green dress billowed as she sashayed into the front of the store. Squeezing past Jack, she paused, looking him up and down. “Mmm-hmm,” she said, then continued to the front door. She flipped the lock and turned the sign in the window to Closed. “This is gonna take a while, sugar,” she said to Jack. “Try not to break anything.”

  He smiled. “Yes ma’am.”

  She raised one eyebrow, as if she’d seen the kind of damage that sort of smile could do a hundred times over.

  “Come on, child,” she said to me. “Let’s have a look at that thing.”

  Duchess sat stone faced while I told her about the slashed tires, the way the house seemed to be falling apart more every day. I felt like I was talking to a shrink, spilling all the details about Jack’s fight with Remy, the rash of fires, the sudden appearance of Miranda. I wasn’t holding back any more.

  “Sorry,” I said. “That’s probably way more than you wanted to know.”

  “Now, you wouldn’t go to a doctor and only tell them about one of your ten symptoms, would you?” She leaned back in her chair and pushed her glasses up into her hair. “You got to tell me everything. And believe me, it ain’t nothing I haven’t heard already.”

  “This just turned up today,” I said, pointing to the skull. “At my house. Where Jack lives too.”

  Duchess picked it up and handled it for a good long while. She was so quiet that she made me nervous. Nothing good ever comes of people being that quiet. The only other sound was Jack’s boot heels thumping along the floorboards in the other room.

  Finally, Duchess sat the skull on the table between us. “Somebody’s got it in for a body in that house, big time,” she said. “Maybe you. Maybe the fella.” She paused. “Maybe both.”

  I glanced at the skull. “What do you think?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t say. But this is bad business right here. Somebody wants one of y’all to suffer.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Well, lucky for you, this ain’t the first time I’ve seen somebody this riled up.”

  There was another crash out front, followed by a flurry of French curses. The big orange cat bolted into the office, his ears flattened.

  Duchess raised two fingers to her temple and sighed. “How ’bout you go keep an eye on that bull you brought in here and I’ll get something ready for you.”

  I thanked her and parted the beaded curtain.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Duchess said.

  ~~~~

  It was dusk when we left the shop.

  “I still can’t believe you bought all that,” Jack said, his eyes shifting from the road to the bag in my lap. “But I suppose it’s good of you to support small businesses.”

  “We need all the help we can get.”

  I unzipped the duffle bag and took out the skull. Duchess had painted a different pattern on it with red and orange paint, then stuffed bundles of dried flowers in the sockets. It reminded me of skulls decorated for the Mexican Day of the Dead, how the blend of bright colors and flowers turned the ghoulish into something beautiful. Duchess said this would reverse the original spell brought on by the skull.

  “Would you put that thing away?” Jack said. “It’s giving me the creeps.”

  I held it out to
him, wiggling the jaw.

  He shivered, turning back to the road. “Lord, have mercy.”

  “You heard what she said. We both have to believe in it to keep the house safe.”

  “You can believe enough for the both of us.”

  “Jack, you can’t deny there’s something weird going on around here.”

  “Weird, yes. Voodoo, no.”

  “Would it hurt to give this a try?”

  He downshifted as we entered the cypress grove, his knuckles white in the moonlight. “I don’t like to see you taken advantage of.”

  His eyes met mine for a second before resting on the road. I shoved the skull into the bag and leaned back against the seat.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let that bastard within a mile of you.”

  “Who? Remy? You think he did this?”

  “He likes to screw with people. And he’s got it in for me, but he won’t lay a finger on you. I’ll see to that.”

  All this time, I’d been convinced it was just Miranda, lovesick and broken-hearted. But to think of Remy skulking around the house, trying to sabotage Jack—that was enough to ensure I never slept again. Miranda might want Jack back, but I didn’t think she’d really do us any harm.

  Remy was a different story entirely. There was no denying the hatred I’d seen in his eyes when he’d stared Jack down at the bar. The thought of him behind all of this made my stomach twist in on itself. He’d use this as a distraction for something else—I was sure of it. And it made me sick to think of what that something else might be.

  ~~~~

  Back at Vergie’s, Jack wandered into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. “Have a drink with me, jolie? Help chase those bad spirits away.”

  “Sure.” I pulled my boots off, wincing as pain shot through my ankle. It had swelled again, aching after having walked on it so long.

  He handed me a glass and took a long swallow from his, nodding toward the cabinets strewn across the floor. “I’ll take care of those tomorrow. They should be dry by now.” He turned the radio on, and the room filled with a scratchy blues song, the whine of washboards and steel guitars.