Low Country Dreams

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “May I be excused?” Dustin asked.

  “That was a real good dinner,” Rocky added.

  “You boys go on out and have fun,” she said, her smile wide. “But stay where you can see the lights from the house, you hear? Don’t go off deep into the swamp.”

  “We won’t,” they chorused as they ran out the door.

  Liam glanced over at Cash, and they grinned at each other. Liam figured Cash was remembering the same experiences he was. They’d done plenty of canoeing and fishing when they’d visited Sean out here as boys, just about Rocky’s and Dustin’s ages. And they hadn’t stayed where they could see the lights, but the directive did keep them closer to Ma’s place than they’d have stayed otherwise.

  Cash’s face went serious, and he put his hand over Ma’s chubby, freckled one. “You were so good to us when we were that age. Still are. I want you to know I appreciate it.”

  Liam met Pudge’s eyes. What was up with Cash? He was the least sentimental of all of them, at least normally.

  Ma just smiled and turned her hand over to squeeze Cash’s. “You’re a good boy, Cash. You might not always show it, but there’s a heart of gold in there.”

  Cash snorted. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” Then he stood. “Here’s what I think. Ma did all the cooking, and Pudge has been training that mutt of Liam’s. And I’m lazy. So I think Ma and Pudge and me should go sit outside and watch the sunset while these youngsters—” he pointed at Liam and Yasmin “—do all the cleanup.”

  Ma opened her mouth to protest, but Pudge spoke up. “Great idea.” He struggled to his feet and held out a hand to Ma. “Come on, you heard the boy.”

  Two minutes later, Liam and Yasmin were alone in the kitchen, with a tableful of dirty dishes.

  Liam found he didn’t mind at all. Even when a text from Cash pinged on his phone. You’re welcome.

  * * *

  DON’T BE AN IDIOT, Yasmin told herself as she carried dishes from the table to the old-fashioned, white ceramic kitchen sink. He brought you along because he knew he needed help with Rocky. That’s all.

  In fact, she’d been shocked when Liam had asked her if she wanted to come out to Ma Dixie’s. She’d never been, even when they’d dated; when she’d asked about it, Liam had downplayed the occasions, saying they were too casual, too country for her. She hadn’t been confident enough, then, to argue, even though she’d longed for an invitation. She had heard for years about Ma and her Friday night suppers. Liam and his brothers had spent a lot of time around here. It had defined their teenage years and had been a respite from the tough love of Liam’s foster family and the rigors of school.

  Of course, she knew Ma and Pudge from church and events in town. But to see them in their natural element, here in the bayou, to taste that traditional cooking and to hear Pudge playing his ukulele, it was frankly wonderful.

  She had been worried sick about Joe all week, ever since she’d learned that he was researching ways to disappear. Tonight, though, he was helping Miss Vi with the kids’ chess club and Yasmin could relax without worries.

  Thanks to Liam, who must have seen that she needed it.

  Being protective, helping others, that was just who Liam was. He’d do the same for anyone; it wasn’t about him inviting her out here because he had special feelings for her. That had been over long ago, if it had ever even been real. Sometimes, it didn’t feel like it had.

  Was it wrong to pretend, though? To allow the idea of doing dishes with him to make her happy?

  If this was what she got, as happiness—and she was pretty sure that this was all she’d get—she would take it.

  She carried two half-empty bowls, one in each hand, over to the kitchen counter. “Do you know where she keeps Tupperware? Or does she even have it?”

  Liam laughed. “Oh, does she ever. She never throws anything away.” He opened a cupboard that was completely full of neatly stacked plastic containers, recycled from whatever they’d originally held: Cool Whip, or lard, or sour cream.

  “Sweet.” She pulled out containers and spooned the leftover corn pudding and gumbo into them, then found space for them in Ma’s crowded fridge.

  When she turned to go for another load, he was right behind her, reaching past, his cologne smelling spicy, combined with the scent of him. Liam had the image of being a good guy, almost a Boy Scout. But there was another side to him, a dark, passionate side, and she’d had the privilege and the thrill of seeing it.

  Her blood pressure shot up.

  Could he tell?

  His eyes met hers, held. Hidden messages, nonverbal ones, seemed to pass between them.

  Yeah, he could tell. No doubt about it.

  She drew in a breath. “’Scuse me,” she said, and sidled past him.

  She tried to focus on the mismatched crockery that somehow looked perfect on Ma’s rough-hewn table. Then she looked out the window, hoping the nature that surrounded them would make her feel cool and serene.

  Out in the bayou, Rocky and Dustin paddled by, Rio in the middle of their canoe, mouth lolling open. They were staying close, which was good. She wasn’t sure Rocky could swim.

  Liam was scraping dishes and then plunking them into a sinkful of soapy water. “Sorry we’re putting you to work here,” he said. “No dishwasher. It’s a big job.”

  “I’m glad to help.” She scolded herself for the fact that she sounded breathless. “Let me bring you the rest of the dishes, and then I’ll dry.”

  When she slid the last dish into the soapy water, her hands brushed against his. They were slippery with soap and the water was warm, and even that mild touch made her go soft and lazy inside. She leaned into him a little, then jerked upright, her face heating.

  She who never relaxed wanted to collapse and let a man care for her.

  He drew in a breath and took a step away, pulling out his hands. “Sorry.”

  He was protective, always had been, about anything physical. Even when they’d dated last year, he’d wanted to take care of her. He hadn’t pushed her into intimacy even though she’d known he desired her. Or at least, she thought so.

  She watched as he washed more dishes, whistling, ignoring her.

  Maybe she’d had it all wrong.

  They worked together in silence for almost an hour, getting the kitchen cleaned up and shiny, all the dishes put neatly away. She even swept the floor. But finally, it was over and there was no more to do, no more reason to be in a room alone with Liam. She sighed.

  He looked over at her. “Come sit on the porch a minute?” He nodded toward the now-deserted front porch.

  “Sure.” Pathetic how quickly she’d responded. It must be super obvious that she wanted to be with him.

  And you can’t be with him, she reminded herself. She’d made her decision about kids, and she wasn’t going to keep torturing herself with what she couldn’t have.

  She followed him out onto the moonlit porch, where an old-fashioned glider covered with flowered vinyl offered the only seating. Where could she sit, except right beside him? And it was warm—she felt very warm—but there was a cooling breeze.

  Cash had stuck his head into the kitchen half an hour ago, saying he was leaving. Rio and Dustin and Rocky were back in Dustin’s room, one of the only two rooms in the house with air-conditioning. From Ma and Pudge’s open bedroom window, they could hear the sound of a television, some sitcom with a laugh track. Apparently Ma and Pudge liked it, because their real-life chuckles sounded along with the tinny canned laughs from the show.

  He put his arm across the back of the glider. Not around her, she reminded herself. Across the back of the glider. “I used to sit out here every time I came,” Liam said. “Listen to the bayou.”

  She paid attention to the nature sounds, then: the peep-peep-peep of frogs, the call of a night owl, the splash of flopping fish, the gentle lap of
water. “I can see why you like it,” she said. “Josiah would love it here.”

  “Should I have invited him?”

  She shook her head. “Sometime, maybe. Not today.” Then her face heated. She didn’t mean to imply that they’d have a future in which he’d invite her relatives to his favorite places.

  They didn’t have that kind of future. Could never have it.

  “How’s he doing?” Liam turned a little to look at her, his knee brushing hers.

  Something about the dark night and the friendly natural sounds of the bayou gave her the desire to confide. “He’s up and down,” she said. “He likes his job at the library, and he loves teaching kids to play chess. He’s glad to be back in Safe Haven.”

  “Sounds like there’s a ‘but,’” Liam said.

  She nodded. “At times, he’s really struggling. It breaks my heart.” Her throat tightened on the last word.

  “It’s not my business, but I’ve wondered whether he’s in some kind of treatment.” Liam leaned back and looked out at the darkening water. “Is he able to get the help he needs here?”

  Yasmin drew in a breath. “I really can’t tell you his diagnosis. That’s his business to share. But you can probably make an educated guess after spending a few hours around him.”

  “Well, he hears voices and has delusions,” Liam said. “Sounds like schizophrenia.”

  Yasmin looked down at her knees and gave a tiny nod. “There are just so many prejudices about that disease,” she said. “Josiah is a good man. And yes, he has good doctors. Mostly in Charleston, since that’s where he was living when he got his diagnosis. But there are good people up here as well and they’re willing to consult with his primary doctors.”

  “Medication can help a lot, right?”

  “Yes, but only if he takes it.”

  “Is that an issue?”

  She hesitated. She longed to confide in Liam, who had such good sense and knew her family. But at the same time, he was an officer of the law. If he knew that Josiah didn’t always take his meds, what kind of conclusions might he draw?

  Better to focus on Josiah’s good side, or one of them—he had a lot. “When he takes his meds, he’s a little more, I don’t know, muted than he would normally be. But he does really well then. He’s a genius with technology. Miss Vi is thrilled to have him helping update their systems at the library.”

  “Figures,” Liam said. “He always was crazy smart.” Then he mock-punched himself in the head. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”

  “It happens.” Yasmin shifted on the glider, set it rocking with one foot and tucked the other foot up under her. “I think Joe wants to leave, move away,” she said, surprising herself. She hadn’t had anyone to talk about it with, that idea that Josiah wanted to disappear. He hadn’t been willing to discuss it with her, and she was terrified of what that might mean. Was he hiding something? Trying to escape what he’d done?

  “Seems like he shouldn’t be away from family.” Liam clasped his hands around a lifted knee. “You’re really doing a great job of helping him. It can’t be easy.”

  His praise warmed Yasmin’s heart, chipping away at the hard lump of constant criticism and self-doubt that seemed to reside there. “It’s an honor to take care of him. But yes, it can be hard sometimes. And he feels bad, like he’s a burden.”

  “I’m sorry you’re going through that.” Around them, the sound of peeping frogs got louder and louder, swelling into a chorus. The air was cooling now, a slight breeze bringing the fragrance of oleander flowers. It only seemed natural for Liam to shuffle closer on the glider. To let his arm curve around her shoulders.

  Yasmin’s breath whooshed out of her. Talking with Liam about her brother had made her feel vulnerable, but also relieved. Less alone. She remembered when she could share anything with Liam, knowing that he would always have her back. Such a wonderful feeling, especially after Josiah had stopped being able to be that rock and that support to her.

  Now, Liam turned to meet her gaze head-on. His hand rose to brush back a curl that had escaped her ponytail. “I like your hairstyle,” he said unexpectedly, his voice a tone deeper than usual. “Reminds me of the old days, when we were in school.”

  “In other words, I look like a kid?” Her words came out breathy, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  Slowly, Liam shook his head. “Oh, no, Yasmin. You don’t look like a kid at all.” His eyes flickered down to her mouth, then back to her eyes.

  Yasmin’s heart fluttered like a terrified bird. Her stomach, her chest, all that was inside her felt squeezed by warm hands, melted.

  How she wanted this. This opportunity to talk to Liam in a low, intimate voice. To share the smiles and glances of lovers. To feel that sense of promise, that there was something happy and bright in their future together.

  She tried to grasp on to the reasons why this couldn’t happen. How she didn’t dare to have children, because the risk of them developing a mental illness was so high. Not only because of Josiah, although that was the main thing, of course. But also because of her mother’s issues: anxiety at the least, possibly depression and bipolar disorder, as well.

  More conditions that had a genetic link.

  As if all of that wasn’t enough, Yasmin knew she wasn’t past the safe age herself. Women developed schizophrenia later than men in many cases. What if she got into a relationship and then started having delusions and hearing voices?

  It was hard enough taking care of her brother, her blood relative. She owed him and bore the burden gladly. But she couldn’t expect a romantic partner to do the same for her, wouldn’t want someone to.

  Wouldn’t want Liam to. He had so much promise, and he had already suffered so much in life. He didn’t need a girlfriend with mental health issues. That just wouldn’t be fair to him.

  “Hey,” he said. He stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes, his own blue eyes concerned. “What sinkhole are you going down? You look like you just saw six ghosts.”

  “Maybe I did.” Not the kind of ghosts he meant, but ghosts of a possible future.

  If she let things go where they were headed right now, if she let him kiss her, she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to push him away again. Doing it once had nearly killed her. Maybe she could be strong enough, but only if she put an end to this before getting closer. “I think we should go.”

  His head tilted to one side, his eyes steady on her. “Do you really think so?”

  She hesitated, clung for just a moment to the possibility of not being the responsible one, the caretaker, the one who took charge of things and tried to make everything work out. She could let herself do what she wanted to do every now and then, couldn’t she? She could be spontaneous, go with her emotions, her heart.

  But no. Her duty was clear. Her life was about taking care of her family, not about indulging in something pleasurable for now, but ultimately dangerous to someone she cared about. Liam was too good of a man, had suffered too many of life’s blows already, to be shackled with Yasmin’s issues. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I really think so.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  SATURDAY MORNING, LIAM drove around Safe Haven almost appreciating the day shift. It was 10:00 a.m. and when he stopped his car near the water, he could hear Rip Martin’s harmonica playing a wild, sad tune. The man was walking along the boardwalk, probably looking for a spot to set up his bucket and try to get the tourists to give him some pity money. No permit, of course. But Liam hated to cite him. His music added to the good feel of the town.

  So did the raucous, staccato sound of the seagulls, rising in intensity. He looked down the boardwalk and saw the cause: a little girl and her parents had stepped outside of Biddie’s Bed and Breakfast and were throwing bread to them. They must be inlanders, unaware that their simple action would bring a cast of thousands and their accompanying mess. Biddie hurried
out to warn them, wearing a big old-fashioned apron, spatula in hand. Liam smiled at the sight, but he was glad. Wouldn’t want the kid to have a seagull-related trauma.

  The water lapped against the dock pilings and the salt-fishy smell of the docks grounded him. He’d spent way too much time thinking about Yasmin and how she had started to let him kiss her, then pulled back, last night at Ma Dixie’s.

  Why did she always pull back, when he was pretty sure she was as attracted to him as he was to her? Was she still not ready for a serious relationship, the excuse she’d given before?

  A call came in on his handheld and he turned it down to hear better over the static. It was Willa Jean, their dispatcher. “Robbery in progress. 10-14.”

  “10-14?” He couldn’t have heard that right. Citizen holding suspect? On a Saturday morning?

  He jogged back to the cruiser and climbed in, listening. Perp was described as a teenager, Caucasian, about five foot seven...brown hair... Liam got a sinking feeling. He knew a kid of that description.

  He hit the lights and sped through town, peripherally noting a couple of dog walkers, people coming out of the grocery store, Rita and Jimmy arguing outside the diner.

  Could Rocky really be stealing from the only exclusive men’s store in Safe Haven? And why?

  He got to Mitchell’s Men’s Shop, walked in and froze. There was Mitch, weapon pulled, holding it on Rocky, who was literally quaking with fear. The sight was incongruous in the midst of neat rows of folded sweaters on glossy wooden tables and a couple of serious-looking mannequins in golf attire.

  “Okay, Mitch, I’ll take it from here,” Liam said.

  “You won’t let him get away?” Mitch, dressed in an impeccable white shirt and dark trousers, every hair in place, nonetheless had sweat beaded on his forehead and was breathing hard.

  “Nope. You can put the gun away.”

  Mitch did, slowly enough to make it clear he was reluctant.

  Liam’s shoulders loosened. “Thanks. Now, what’s this all about?”