Bayou My Love: A Novel Read online

“So do it. Start over.”

  I frowned. “You make it sound so easy.”

  He stripped the leaves from the stem one by one. “The only person who can make you carry all of that burden around is you. We let it go when we’re ready, though.”

  “I can’t quit. Quitting is giving up. Then he wins.”

  “Sometimes toughing it out isn’t the answer,” he said. “Sometimes cutting your losses is cutting yourself free.”

  “I just wanted to do this right,” I said. “For Vergie.”

  “You’re good at this, cher. And she would have been proud.”

  I snorted, yanking fistfuls of grass from around my hips. “This is a disaster.”

  “You were doing fine with this place. It’s not your fault some asshole set it on fire. You’re beating yourself up for nothing.”

  He lay down in the grass next to me, lacing his hands behind his head. How could he be so relaxed? I felt like I would burst apart at the seams the second I quit forcing myself to hold it together.

  But he was right.

  I couldn’t leave this house unfinished. My father was my weakness. I could see that when I talked to Jack. My father had expected me to fail, but I wouldn’t do it. Not this time.

  “I’m finishing this,” I said, my voice raspy.

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know you are.”

  After what seemed like hours, the inspector walked outside and cleared his throat. His tie was loose now, his shirt sticking to his skin. He pushed his glasses up onto his head and said, “Well, Miss Parker, the good news is that much of this can be saved. It could have been a lot worse.”

  I scrambled to my feet.

  He held his hand over his eyes to block the sun. “The bad news is, it was definitely arson, so that means more complicated paperwork. Might take longer for your insurance claim to go through.”

  I sighed, brushing myself off.

  Nick motioned for us to follow him into the house.

  Inside, he took his pen from behind his ear and pointed toward the corner—a scorched spot that had burned deeper into the floor than anywhere else. Bits of glass lay all around it, melted into pebbles. “That’s the point of origin,” he said, pointing to the black mark. “Most of the glass fragments are melted and misshapen, but a few large fragments are curved. Clearly not from the window.”

  “A Molotov cocktail,” Jack said.

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, though it wasn’t much of a surprise.

  “Usually, these things work out in your favor,” Nick said. “It just takes longer than we’d like.”

  He tucked his clipboard under his arm and stepped outside. “Good to see you again, Jack. We’ll get you a report as soon as possible, Miss Parker.”

  “Can we start the repairs?” I asked.

  He tugged at his tie. “Unfortunately, you have to wait for your insurance adjustor.”

  Jack walked Nick to his car, leaving me standing in the rubble, imagining how I might begin to make Remy pay for this. I picked up some of the biggest chunks of plaster and debris, and made a pile by the door.

  When Jack returned, he said, “You should leave that. We may need photos for evidence.”

  Tears stung my eyes again. Remy—or whoever did this—was out walking around in the summer heat, driving to work or loafing on his couch drinking a beer. Or planning his next fire. And that made me furious.

  “I have to do something,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “Listen, nobody expects you to start right back to work like nothing happened. Let’s get out of here for a while.”

  I laughed. “Now I really can’t afford to lose any more days.”

  He rested his big hands on my shoulders and turned me so he could stare me in the eye. “You need to get away from this and relax. Let me help you, OK? We’ll sit down and get a plan together. But I’m not going to let you stay here and work yourself up into a frenzy.”

  “Jack, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but—”

  “No buts. The house can wait one more day.”

  “It can’t. It’s been almost three weeks, and this is going to set me back even further.”

  I felt a surge of panic as I looked around the scorched room. There wasn’t much I could do, aside from sweep up piles of rubble. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

  He pulled me against him, holding me tight. It seemed like he was the only thing keeping me together.

  “Come on… let’s go.”

  Before I could argue, I heard footsteps on the porch. I dabbed at my eyes, figuring Nick had forgotten something, but as I stepped away from Jack, I felt my heart twist into a knot.

  A deep voice bellowed from the doorway. “Just what in the hell is going on here?”

  My heart clenched and I said, “Oh, hell.”

  Chapter 18

  I froze, not wanting to turn around. I told myself that I was imagining the voice, that I was finally cracking from this disaster. But then I heard it again.

  “Enza!” my father yelled, his voice reverberating through the house. “Why the hell aren’t you answering your phone?”

  My father stood in the doorway. He looked as if he’d just stormed out of a board meeting, wearing an expensive charcoal suit with a hideous red and purple patterned tie. He snatched his aviator shades from his face and stuffed them in his suit pocket.

  “Dad, what are you doing down here?”

  “As per our last conversation, I thought I should come see how things were going. Since I called two dozen times and left messages, to no avail, I naturally began to wonder whether you were avoiding me or had ended up in a gutter.” He gave Jack a long, disapproving look and then went on. “It seemed that if I wanted to talk to you I was going to have to come do it in person.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s only been a few days,” I said. “Batteries die. Phones get lost. I hardly think that warrants getting on a plane.”

  He glared at me. “Are you going to tell me your battery was dead? You couldn’t go pop a quarter in a pay phone? Avoiding calls is no way to handle a business, but I think you know that. You drop off the radar, I start to think you’re doing something foolish.”

  “Nobody has pay phones any more,” I said.

  His face hardened.

  I glanced over at Jack. He had that same look on his face that he’d had when he’d slugged Remy in the bar.

  My father brushed past me and stomped into the burned room, his narrowed eyes taking in every detail, every singed surface. “Holy hell,” he said. His frown was like a scar.

  “I wasn’t avoiding you,” I said. “I actually lost my phone. I guess your messages didn’t get passed on to the new one.”

  “I’d ask how things were going, but that seems painfully evident. You neglected to mention fire damage. Anything else you left out?”

  “There wasn’t any fire damage when we talked. As usual, your timing is exceptional.”

  He stalked through the other rooms. “This is a disaster! A money pit.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I said. “It won’t take much to wrap it up.” As the words came out, I realized it sounded like a plea. It sounded ridiculously optimistic, even to my ears. But I knew I could finish it.

  My father snorted. “It won’t take much? Look around you, Enza. That’s delusional.”

  “You should have seen it before she started,” Jack said. “She’s worked a miracle on it already.”

  “And who the hell’s this?” my father asked, poking his thumb at Jack.

  Before I could answer, Jack stepped closer and extended his hand. “Jack Mayronne,” he said. I could tell from his clenched jaw that he didn’t really want to shake my father’s hand, but his politeness won out over his anger. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

  My father had a knack for making people want to leave a room just by walking into it. He t
ook Jack’s hand and gave it one hard shake, purely as a formality, and said, “You’re one of the carpenters?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” I said, before he could answer.

  Jack shot me a look.

  My father paced between us, his expensive loafers echoing on the hardwood. “When did this happen?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said.

  His eyes rested on mine. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, dear. Now how did you manage to catch this place on fire?”

  “Christ,” Jack muttered under his breath.

  My father whipped his head around. “Something you want to add, son?”

  “Jack,” I said, but he didn’t even glance at me. His eyes were steady on my father’s. This was about to get bad.

  “Your daughter was trapped in the house,” Jack said. “She could have been killed.” His eyes were bright with fury, but he kept his voice steady and low.

  “I wasn’t exactly trapped. Let’s not blow things out of proportion.”

  “Oh, right,” Jack said. “If I were going to be completely accurate, I’d tell you Enza stayed in the burning house in order to hose this room down and keep it from burning to the ground before the fire department got here.”

  My father’s jaw tightened. “I knew this place would be more trouble than it was worth.”

  “I’ll finish it,” I said. “I just may need a few extra weeks.”

  “Honey, you need to cut your losses, go back home, and let me get some folks in here that know what they’re doing.” He pulled at a piece of charred wood trim. “Or just sell it like it is and get out while we can still break even.”

  “No. I said I’d finish it, and I will.”

  “Time is money,” he said, frowning. “And this is money we don’t have.”

  “I’m not leaving.” I felt the blood rushing to my head again.

  He planted his hands on his hips, glaring at me. It took every ounce of my focus not to look away.

  “You’re impossible,” he said. “Never know when to back down.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, my voice rising. “But I’m not going to hand this over just because you came down here in your fancy suit on your big white horse.”

  I felt like screaming, but I knew he’d be hoping for that—it would be another example of how I’d lost control. So I said, “I’m not going to quit just because you said so. You gave me a job to do, and you wanted me to prove myself, and now you’re telling me to quit before I have the chance to.”

  “I’m not telling you this as your father. I’m telling you as your boss.”

  “I think you are telling me as my father. Because I’m telling you this place can be salvaged and you can still turn a profit on it—and you’re willing to throw that away. Would you do that with anybody else on your crew? You sure wouldn’t do it to Sam or Jeffrey.” I knew I was pushing him, but enough was enough. He’d taken the guys that worked for him under his wing and pretended to do the same with me—but he didn’t give me half the latitude he gave them. And he knew it.

  “This is a bad business decision,” he said. “You’re letting your pride get in the way, as usual. And I’m not losing money because of your pride.”

  “This is about finishing what I started.”

  He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head. For what seemed like forever, he didn’t say anything. Finally, he put his glasses back on and said, “You always were as stubborn as a goddamn goat.” He stepped between piles of rubble as he made his way to the door. From the porch, he turned and said, “I should just sell it as-is.”

  “You can’t,” I said, unflinching. “It’s in my name.”

  “Need I remind you who’s covering the cost of these repairs?”

  “We have an agreement. Or does that apply to everyone except me?”

  His face was twisted into a scowl, but I refused to look away. He strode out of the house and climbed into his boat of a rental car, slamming the door. When the car disappeared at the end of the driveway, I slid into a heap on the porch.

  I was furious that he would come here under the pretense of being worried about my safety. He hadn’t batted an eye when Jack told him about how I tried to fight the fire. He didn’t care about all the work I’d already done. All he saw were the flaws, how I hadn’t stayed on the schedule he’d made.

  Jack stood with his arms crossed, his eyes on the driveway. “Hard to believe you came from that stock.”

  “Sometimes I think I’m more like him than I’d like to admit.”

  In the distance, a car horn blew. Jack shook his head. “You OK?”

  “I will be.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Now would you like to get out of here for a while?”

  What I really wanted to do was drive my fist through the wall. But the lovely arch in his eyebrows made me smile. “Yes, Mr. Mayronne, I believe I would.”

  He pulled me to my feet and said, “Good. I know just the place.”

  ~~~~

  We climbed into the Jeep, and he said, “Brenda’s has the best gator tail in the state. And the bourbon’s not bad, either.”

  I grimaced at the thought. “Do I look like a woman who eats alligator tail?”

  “It’s a delicacy,” he said, mock offended. “You can’t leave here without trying it.”

  I cringed at the thought of leaving here. Leaving Jack.

  Brenda’s didn’t look like much from the outside. Locals flocked to it, but it probably didn’t see many new faces. It was bright yellow clapboard with a wood shingled roof. An alligator skull hung over the door, a halo of flowers draped over it. I shuddered, thinking of the skull we’d found in the yard.

  As Jack held the door for me, the people inside turned to see who was coming in. Several diners sat at the bar, and some were sprinkled in booths and tables. It looked like a cross between a pancake house and a hunting lodge. The paneled walls were a jigsaw puzzle of old framed photos and road signs. Red vinyl booths sat like islands on a scuffed hardwood floor. Jack waved to a woman with red hair pulled up in a bun, and we slid into a booth. She brought two glasses of water over and said, “Hey, Jack. Saw you on the news.”

  He winced. “Hope it wasn’t for very long.”

  “I was wondering why we hadn’t seen you around here in a while. But I guess you got your hands full.” She glanced at me and half-smiled. “Hope y’all catch that arsonist soon.”

  “Brenda, this is Enza,” he said. “She’s Vergie’s granddaughter.”

  “Well, how about that. We sure miss her.” She smiled, then returned to business. “What can I get you today? Your usual?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Make it two.”

  “You gonna trust this devil to order for you, hon?” she said to me.

  “He’s a pretty good guesser,” I said, and she grinned.

  Brenda walked back to the front and yelled into the kitchen. The fry cook waved his arm at her, stubbing a cigarette out against the doorframe.

  As she came back with two beers, the bell above the door clanged, and she turned like it was a reflex. “Dammit,” she said, frowning. She plunked the beers down in front of us and strode to the counter.

  Remy ambled toward the bar and eased onto a stool at the end, leaving several empty seats between him and the nearest diner. He glanced around but didn’t seem to see us. As a young blond woman appeared to take his order, Brenda intercepted. She handed the girl a coffee pot and sent her to a booth in the back.

  Brenda sidled over to Remy herself, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked like a mother hen protecting her brood. He was grinning, holding his hands out beside him as if to surrender. Her stare didn’t seem to faze him. At last she yanked a pad out of her apron pocket and scribbled his order on it. She slapped the ticket on the ring by the window and nodded to the cook.

  Jack sipped his beer. “Some days you just can’t win.”

  I started to get up from the table, but he dropped
his hand on my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to give that cowardly son of a bitch a piece of my mind.”

  He squeezed my arm until I sat back down. “My mother used to say that if you go around doing that, you’ll soon have no brains left for yourself.”

  “How can you sit here all calm and cool, drinking a beer like nothing happened?”

  “I’d love to go bust this bottle over his head and drag him out into the swamp, but that ain’t gonna fix anything. If he’s the one behind all this, then we’ll get him. But not here.”

  I turned my wrist, trying to free myself from his grip.

  “Spook him now,” he said, “and we’ll never catch him.”

  At the bar, Remy still had his back to us. I leaned into the booth, dragging my fingernails along the vinyl seat. “So I’m supposed to smile and go on like everything’s fine.”

  “Put the bad guys at ease, and it makes them slip up.”

  I took a long drink. “Come on. Let’s go someplace else.”

  “And miss Brenda’s grilled shrimp and gator tail? No ma’am.” Jack glanced around the other tables. The place was nearly full now, the lights dim and the room buzzing with chatter. We were a good twenty feet from the bar, tucked in a corner. “I’m not letting that jackass ruin our day any more than he already has.”

  “I’m not sure I can sit in the same building with him,” I said, resting my head in my hands.

  “Just pretend he’s not here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

  “New subject,” he said. “I talked to the chief, and he said it was safe to stay in the house tonight.”

  “Did he say if we could start fixing that room?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I know some people. When we get the OK to move ahead, they’ll take care of it.”

  The way he looked at me now, I felt like an idiot for having doubted his intentions. It made me think I was becoming too cold, like my father. Here was Jack, devoting all this time and energy to helping me, and my first reaction had been to think he must have an ulterior motive. Had I really trusted Remy’s word over his? Tears welled in my eyes again, despite my greatest effort to hold them back.