“Yep,” she says, totally throwing me. It never occurred to me that my own sisters might know where she is.
“Where is she?” I demand, standing and grabbing for my keys.
“I’m not telling.”
“Excuse me?”
She clears her throat at the sound of my voice. “She’s safe, Dec, but she’s hurt, and she just needs some time to think.”
“I’ve given her two fucking days,” I growl. “I’m tired, worried, and I need to see her.”
“And you will,” Charly says. “I’ll call you in the morning and let you know where you can find her. But for tonight, she needs to be left alone.”
“Fuck that, Charly. This is all way more dramatic than it needs to be.”
“For you,” she says. “You can be the knight on the white horse tomorrow. She just wants to be left alone for today.”
I sigh and sit back down, scrubbing my hand over my face. Christ, I can’t sleep without her.
“This isn’t fair, Charly.”
“Neither was not speaking to her for days, then going out with another woman,” she says. “I love you, and you will always have my loyalty, but the woman meant for you wants one more night to think, and you’re going to give it to her.”
“Does she hate me?” I whisper.
“She’s so in love with you she’s stupid with it,” she says. “I think you’ll figure it all out, and one more night won’t kill you.”
“Thank you for being there for her.” I love that my sisters like Callie. It’s important to me that they do. Because they’re going to have her in their lives for a very long time.
“I like her,” she says simply. “We all do.”
“I do too.”
“All I’ll say is this: when you do talk to her tomorrow, really listen to her. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Chapter Eighteen
Two Days Earlier…
~Callie~
I can’t believe he walked away. I mean, he didn’t even say anything; he just walked away.
I’m lying in bed the next morning. Actually, I think it’s almost afternoon now, and I just keep replaying the last twenty-four hours in my head, over and over again.
It’s beginning to feel like it didn’t really happen to me, and instead it was a bad movie.
But it did happen. Declan blew me off, and then went out with someone else, and instead of talking to me about it, he walked away.
Un-fucking-believable.
“Cal?” Adam says from the other side of the door, knocking softly. “Are you awake?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Declan’s sisters to leave on my way out,” he says and walks away.
Damn it.
I peel the covers back and wince when I see the outfit of leggings and an old, stained cami, and then decide, who cares? I’m sure they own the same outfit.
They’re women, after all.
I walk out to the kitchen, and there they are, looking way too much like their damn brother.
“Hi, guys.”
“Hey, Callie.” Charly raises a brow and looks me up and down, then grins. “I have the same outfit.”
“It’s the standard girl outfit,” Van says, nodding. “So, I talked to my brother this morning, and—”
“I don’t want to know,” I say immediately, holding up a hand, already on the verge of tears. “I can’t do this.”
And now the tears do come, and I hate it.
“Ah, honey,” Charly says as I pace away and wipe furiously at the tears on my cheeks.
“I just can’t.” I take a deep breath. “I love him, but damn it, it’s been a shitty week, and I don’t want to talk about him. Just thinking about him hurts.”
“He’s a moron,” Van says, shaking her head, and I just nod in agreement.
“You know what you need?” Charly asks.
“A lobotomy so I can forget how great we had it for a little while? Because it was so great.” I hate myself for falling apart like this. I sit on the couch and hang my head in my hands, just crying. “He was so sweet and I miss him, you guys. I miss his hands, and I miss the way he wouldn’t touch me when I was sleeping so I didn’t get too hot.”
“Wow, I love it when a guy does that,” Charly says.
“I just can’t get the image of him with that woman out of my head,” I continue. “I mean, he hadn’t even broken up with me yet before he moved on.”
“What if I told you that it’s not what you think?” Van asks. “And that he loves you, too.”
“I’d say I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I just don’t know. I thought I knew him, and then he just… threw me. So frankly, I don’t know what I want. I have a lot on my plate right now, and I just feel overwhelmed. I definitely don’t want him to see me like this.”
“No,” Charly agrees. “I think I have a good idea. You should get away, even if it’s just for a couple of days. Take some time to think. Think about what you want, for you. Then come back and have it out with Declan.”
“I don’t think he’ll want to wait that long to talk to you,” Van says.
“Well, it’s not all up to him, is it?” I reply. “I wanted to see him all week, and he blew me off. So he can wait.”
“Atta girl,” Charly says.
“But I don’t really have anywhere to go,” I add.
“We do,” Van says. “I’ll call Gabby. You should go to the inn for a couple days. It’s quiet there, and it’s out of the city.”
“You guys do remember that it’s your brother that is no longer my boyfriend, and that the thinking I have to do involves whether or not I want to even see his face again?”
“I wonder whether I ever want to see his face again all the time,” Charly says, waving me off.
“We love Declan, Callie,” Van adds, “but I really think he’s messed up here. I like you. I want you two to work it out because I think you’re really good for him. But whether you end up together or not, you’re our friend, and we’d make the same offer to any other friend that we care about.”
“What she said,” Charly says.
God, I’m an emotional mess. What did I do to deserve these sweet women? I bite my lip, but can’t stop the tears from flowing as I simply nod and then say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Go pack a bag.”
Charly’s already dialing the phone. “Hey Gab, we’re sending Callie to you. Declan’s being a man.”
***
Van was right; it’s very quiet at the inn. I’ve been here for two days. I’ll go home later today, and I’ve loved every minute that I’ve been here.
“Your cinnamon rolls are the best, Gabby,” I say as I watch her knead the dough for the delicious pastries for the next morning.
“Thanks,” she says with a smile. “It’s my mama’s recipe, and it’s usually a big hit.”
“I think I’ve gained ten pounds in the past two days, just from eating too many,” I reply, patting my belly.
“I don’t see any pounds on you, but it does look like a few might have been lifted off your shoulders,” Gabby says and sets the bowl of dough aside to rise, as my phone begins to ring incessantly, just like it did yesterday.
“I had to turn this damn phone off yesterday, and it looks like the same thing’s going to have to happen today.” I glare down at Declan’s name as another text comes in. Without saying a word, Gabby reaches over and takes it from me, then sets it in the fridge.
“Trust me,” she says. “It works.”
“It stops ringing when it’s cold?” I ask.
“No, you can’t hear it when it’s in the fridge,” she replies with a laugh. “Just don’t forget that it’s in there. I’ve done that. Not a good idea.”
I laugh and shrug. Hey, I could use a couple of quiet hours, without the ringing phone in my hand.
“Where’s the baby?” I ask, itching to get my hands on her again. She’s such a sweet little thing, and she smells so good.
&nb
sp; “Mama took her last night,” Gabby says with a sigh. “Sam was off to school this morning, and I had two whole hours alone with my husband. It was bliss. But I miss the little stinker. Mama should be back with her soon. You’re sure good with babies.”
“I love babies,” I reply and grin. “I know, I don’t look like the type.”
“Why? Because you’re a strong woman who dresses like a badass? Seems to me you’d be a great mother and wonderful role model for any child.”
I blink at her and have to swallow hard. “Thank you.”
“How are you feeling?” she asks kindly.
“I’m… better.”
“Come to any conclusions?” She grabs two oatmeal raisin cookies and passes one to me.
“I guess I can’t really make any decisions without talking to him,” I reply and bite into the cookie as she nods in agreement.
“Probably a good idea,” she replies. “I tried to figure out my situation with Rhys without Rhys, and boy, did he ever put me in my place when he got his hands on me." She smiles smugly. “I guess that if a decision is being made that involves another person, they should be in on that decision too.”
“I agree, but he’s the one who shut me out last week.”
“Daddy always said, two wrongs just means that you’re both stupid.” She laughs. “He was a blunt man.”
“Sounds like it.” I sigh and take another cookie when she offers it. Yep, I’m going to need some serious time in the gym when I leave here. “Maybe he’s right.”
“He usually was, much to my chagrin.” We both look out the window above the sink when we hear a car pull up. “There’s Mama now.”
“I’ll be sure to say hello to her before she leaves. But in the meantime I’m going to enjoy my last couple of hours here and take a walk.”
“Have you seen the old slave quarters out back?” Gabby asks. “Rhys and I also added a confederate army camp site out back too, where we think the original site was.”
“The confederates camped here?” I ask, amazed.
“They camped just about everywhere along the Mississippi,” she replies with a nod. “Best I could tell, from old diaries that the women kept, we got it right. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a hardship to watch Rhys work with his shirt off, digging some holes and setting up the tents.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t a horrible thing to watch.” I laugh. “I love that you’re still so much in love.”
“It’s only been a year. And honestly, I fall more in love with him every day. I know, it sounds corny, but I can’t help it.”
“It doesn’t sound corny. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Okay, I’m going to wander out there, then through the garden.”
“Perfect day for it. Fall’s settling in.”
I nod, wave, and while chewing on the last of my cookie, I wander out back, down a path that leads me through several huge old oaks, like the ones out in front of the house. There are several small cabins lined up that Gabby has preserved in their original conditions, with genuine artifacts that were found around the grounds where the cabins originally stood. Plexiglas covers the windows and doors, so guests can look in without disturbing anything.
Plaques stand near each cabin, describing what slave life was like here on the plantation two hundred years ago. She’s included photocopies of original sales receipts when her ancestor bought or sold each slave. The documentation is striking and amazing.
How incredible is it that all of this was preserved and saved all of this time? It’s a true treasure for the family. How would it feel to belong to a history as vast and as old as this one? To know that no matter where you end up in the world, this is where you belong?
And maybe that’s what I’ve needed to figure out all along: where I belong. Because I’m just not sure. I never have felt like I truly belonged anywhere. I left New Orleans as soon as I could, but Denver wasn’t home any more than Louisiana was. And now that I’ve been back for a while, I thought that I was starting to feel like this is home, but I’m not sure. I still feel restless.
I wander through it all, soaking in the history, picturing how it must have looked then. When I find myself near the rose garden, I hear footsteps behind me and turn to find Declan’s mama coming out to join me.
“Hello, Mrs. Boudreaux,” I say with a smile.
“Oh, you can call me Mama,” she says with a chuckle. “Just about everyone does.”
“Thank you,” I reply as she takes my hand and walks beside me. Mama is a petite woman, like Gabby, with salt and pepper hair that she keeps in a short cut. Her makeup is perfectly done, and despite being easily in her sixties, she’s in excellent shape.
I like her.
“It’s a nice day for a walk,” she says and takes a deep breath. “The air always was fresher out here.”
“It’s a beautiful place,” I agree with a nod. “I’ve enjoyed being here.”
“It’s a good thinking spot,” she says. “And I expect you’ve had some thinkin’ to do.”
“I have.”
“Sometimes you can do too much thinkin’,” she says as we make our way through the garden and over a beautiful stone bridge that carries us over a creek. “You’ll just think your way into circles.”
“I might have done some of that too,” I reply with a laugh. We fall into an easy silence. I can tell that she wants to ask me questions, but she doesn’t push. Instead she points out places in the trees where her boys built tree houses in the summer, and where her husband proposed to her.
“He proposed out here?” I ask.
“He did. He courted me for a few months, and talked me into taking a drive out here to his family’s summer home. Walked me through the gardens, like we are now, although Gabby’s really brought them back to life. And then we sat under that magnolia tree and had a picnic lunch, and he asked me to marry him.”
“That’s sweet,” I murmur, picturing a younger woman sitting under the tree with her handsome man, him slipping a ring on her finger.
We walk just a bit farther, and we’re at the entrance to a cemetery, and I can’t help but feel sudden guilt. I haven’t been to either of my parents' graves.
And right now, in this moment with Declan’s sweet mother, I miss my own mama, and I wonder what advice she would give me about Declan and this whole mess.
“You can talk to me, you know,” Mama says as she sits on a bench, under an oak tree, and pats the seat beside her.
“Oh, I don’t know where to start.”
“I always find that the beginning is as good a place as any,” she says with a kind smile, and I find myself suddenly spilling all of it to her, about how Declan and I first met, how he would walk me to my car after work, helping him with his house, all the way through until this week and how confused I am.
She sits patiently, listening, nodding, and when I’m finished and wiping tears from my cheeks, she simply reaches over and grabs my hand in hers and squeezes gently, three times.
And that only makes me cry more.
“What?”
“Declan squeezes my hand like that.”
She smiles. “How lovely. Ask him what it means sometime.”
“It means something?”
“Just ask him.” She sighs. “Oh, you poor sweet child. My Declan is a smart man. I think that out of all of our children, he’s the most like his father.” She points to a headstone, and I’m surprised to find that we’re sitting right in front of Declan’s father’s grave.
Beauregard Francois Boudreaux
1947 ~ 2012
Beloved Husband & Father
I’ve adjusted my sails.
“I’ve adjusted my sails,” I read softly. “Declan told me once that I’ve adjusted mine.”
“We’re always adjusting our sails,” Mama says with a smile. “My Beauregard was a very smart man. He had a cunning business sense, and our Beau and Eli both inherited that love of business, carrying on an empire that was once just a very profitable business. B
ut my husband wanted more than that. He wanted to take the family business and make it more. You see, my husband was also a dreamer, and that’s what I see in my Declan. I see a very smart man who is also a dreamer. That’s the artist in him.
“That boy could pick up an instrument, spend ten minutes tinkering with it, and before you knew it, he was playing it like he’d been taking lessons for years.”
“Declan’s never had lessons?” I ask, surprised.
“No, ma’am. It’s a God-given gift, the way he can hear the music in his head. We knew early on that the family business wasn’t meant for Declan, and that was just fine with his father.”
“Your husband sounds wonderful,” I tell her, almost envious that she had such a solid, dependable man in her life.
“He was wonderful. And there were plenty of days that I wanted to hit him with the cast iron skillet I fry chicken in.”
She laughs when I stare at her with surprised eyes.
“Oh, honey, no marriage is easy. We had more than forty wonderful years together. But any relationship is work. And one important thing that I finally learned, after a few very frustrating years, is no one can read minds.”
I frown and stare ahead, reading over and over again, I’ve adjusted my sails.
“I had to learn to talk to my husband, to tell him what I needed. And with time, he learned the same. He was a smart man, but he was still a man, and men have that pride gene that seems to make us women madder than a honey badger.”
“Yes, they do have that gene.”
“But we have the he should know what I’m thinking gene that just confuses the dickens out of them.”
Is that what I’ve done?
“I don’t know what’s happening between you and my boy, but I want to tell you that the first time he brought you out here to dinner, and I saw the two of you together, I saw a connection there that just doesn’t happen every day. I’ve known about Declan’s reputation, and as his mother, it didn’t necessarily make me proud. But when he looked at you, it reminded me of the way his father looked at me. And I can tell you, the Boudreaux men, when they love, they love. It’s black and white for them. There is no grey area.
“And it’s the best thing that will ever happen to you.”
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