A Perfect Mistake

by Zoe Dawson

  “Geezus.”

  “Look, we’re sorry, too. We were worried, and we came barging in here thinking something bad had happened to you. It was completely unfortunate that we saw you…oh shit. Well, you know. It’s embarrassing. For all of us, but let me just say that you have a fine ass.”

  I groaned. “It’s really not fair to tease me right now, Breebree.”

  “Hey, if she’s seen one, she’s seen all three identical asses.”

  “Yes, she said, rolling her eyes. “Definitely, jackasses. All identical.”

  I laughed and groaned again. “Shut the fuck up. It was really bad timing. She was finally talking to me. Which is all I really wanted. She took care of me. She really did, like she cared.”

  “Come on, Boonie.” Aubree said, walking over to me and taking my arm. Then she peered at me and turned to look accusingly at Booker. “Did you hit him? Verity told me that he’s been really sick. I thought you were kidding about kicking his ass.”

  “I didn’t,” Booker said bristling.

  “I hit Brax. All he did was retaliate,” I said with a shrug.

  Aubree huffed. “Right on his smart mouth, I’m assuming.”

  “That fucking huckleberry pushed the wrong Boone button.”

  Booker smirked. “Yeah, the Verity one.”

  “Sounds like you’re all a bunch of huckleberries to me. God save me from brothers,” she said.

  “You’re stuck with us now, Breebree.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said, giving first me and then Booker a soft smile.

  “Gag, mushy alert,” I said as Booker rose and helped me up, too.

  “I think you need more fluids and something to eat. Do you have any bananas?” Aubree said.

  “That’s random. Bananas?”

  “It’s part of the BRAT diet when you have an upset tummy.”

  “Geezus. Am I two years old? And, I don’t know. Brax does the shopping for me. He says I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I can’t buy cereal and milk, for chrissake.”

  #

  Verity

  The minute I walked into the house, my parents went ballistic.

  “Why didn’t you call us?!”

  “Lindsay said that Boone was ill. Did you stay there the whole night?” my momma asked.

  My daddy’s face was contorted into a mass of anger and concern. My momma was worried about my reputation. It was written all over her face. If she only knew! I felt sorry for worrying them, but something broke in me. “Yes. I did. I stayed with him. I took care of him. He had a high fever. Someone had to help him.”

  “What about his family?” my daddy snapped.

  I gave them a hard look of accusation. “Aren’t you even going to ask how he is? He’s given hours and hours of his time to all these plans for the church. Going more than that extra mile. He stopped on the road just two days ago and fixed my flat tire and helped carry in groceries, even when I was quite nasty to him. Whatever happened to mercy, Daddy? What happened to taking care of your fellow human being? Isn’t that what Jesus would do?”

  “What? You’re throwing back my sermons into my own face? This is about decorum,” he thundered. “An unattached, single girl doesn’t spend the night with a man who isn’t her husband. His family should have been notified.”

  “Daddy, there was no time to call his family. High fevers like that can make people seize. Did you want me to abandon him alone and delirious?”

  “Of course not. It’s just not right….”

  “What’s not right?! The fact that Boone’s an Outlaw? How would it look for the preacher’s daughter to even talk to him? Oh, God. It’s the end of the world! I’m so done with this.”

  I shouldn’t have sassed him. Good girls didn’t sass back. Ladies kept their opinions to themselves. But all the dictates from my upbringing couldn’t hold back the rage I had stored inside me all these years. I was constantly discounted. I had no say. I was ordered and pushed into things I didn’t want for my life.

  But it was my life. And, just like my brother Ethan, I’d had enough. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m so, so far from being a child. I’m almost twenty. I’ve lived away from home for a year. I’ve been through a lot. Don’t lecture me about Boone. He needed me, and I stayed.”

  My daddy was shocked at my outburst. But I wasn’t going to let him bowl me over and make it seem that I was inappropriate in staying and caring for Boone. I had so terribly wronged him. And then left him hanging.

  And, the embarrassment of having Braxton and Booker and—oh God, Aubree—see us like that. My God, I wasn’t sure I could even look any of them in the eyes again.

  As usual, my momma didn’t say anything, but she looked at me differently, as if somehow her little girl had been replaced by a person she didn’t really know.

  “I’m really tired,” I said. “I’ve been up all night taking care of a feverish man. I’m going to sleep for a bit.”

  I left my parents gaping after me. I knew this wasn’t over. But exerting my independence was high on my list of what needed doing so I could get what I wanted out of life and leave Suttontowne behind me. I went to my room and opened my purse. I slipped the picture out and just stared at it. My heart broke all over again. I kissed it and replaced it, gently tucking it back inside my wallet.

  Grabbing my cell, I opened my window and climbed out. Like ghosts, I heard the voices of my childhood—Ethan’s boyish laugh, my own shy giggle, Daddy’s promises he would come find us and tickle us silly. My momma yelling for us to run. The memories bombarded me—good and bad.

  I walked briskly away from the house and slipped into the swamp. I had grown up here on the edge of the Atchafalaya, but had never felt a party to its secrets. The swamp was a world unto itself, ancient, mysterious, primal. I had always thought of it as alive, not just an environment. Something with a mind and eyes and a dark, shadowed soul. That impression closed in on me as I walked further and further inside the heart of the bayou.

  The deeper I went, the quieter it got. The expectant, hushed silence of the swamp.

  I walked onto a small dock made of just planks and tree branches and just sat on the edge for a moment.

  Last year I made what I had thought were solid decisions. Decided that Boone Outlaw had made a victim out of me. I had wanted to blame him. Had to blame him. Because if I hadn’t, this would all have been on me.

  As I sat there, I discovered that all the anger I felt for him was just gone. I no longer believed that he had anything to do with giving me a drug so he could take advantage of me.

  What I had seen of him revealed strong character and a good heart. The way he’d handled that little boy. The way he’d fended off that woman’s advances. The way he talked so respectfully to my daddy, gave up his time and money to make our church beautiful. A man who wanted to build us picnic tables, a barbeque and a gazebo.

  That was Boone Outlaw, and I had been so horribly wrong.

  My actions afterwards had been all my responsibility. Sure, I had been influenced by a drug that party animals took to heighten their party experience. But was that really an excuse, especially for what happened later?

  And I had to wonder who had slipped me that damn drug. Maybe Stacy could shed some light on who might have had an opening. I’d go visit her as soon as I could.

  The thing was, every time I thought about that night, what I felt was longing. Longing for how his skin had felt beneath my hands, how his mouth had tasted, how his warm, soft lips had devoured me. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to forget how it had felt to have Boone slide into me, so gently, so sweetly, like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he knew I was a virgin and he had to be careful. That he knew that I had fantasized about being with him like this, again and again. Even though he had been wasted, he was so, so gentle, like I was his dream come true.

  The X was a good excuse, and though it had been in my system, it only heightened what I already wanted. And as I watched him walk away in the rain two days ago,
angry and upset with me, I felt totally ashamed that I had allowed fear to keep me from telling him what he had every right to know. Fear that my parents would find out about what had happened. And fear that perhaps my anger should be directed at the person really responsible for everything.

  Me.

  But since I had made the decision last year to keep quiet, I was stuck with it now. And, it destroyed me all over again. Tortured me until I thought I was going to just drop dead on the spot.

  I couldn’t turn back. I couldn’t tell Boone anything about that heavy secret. It would stay buried so deep into me that it could break only my own heart, every second of every day.

  I looked down at the cell and pushed the button to turn it on. I pulled up the name with the New York area code. Pushing call, I waited until she picked up the other end of the line.

  “Hi. Do you have time to talk?”

  “Of course, Verity. Always.”

  I sucked in a jerky breath, fighting the tears. I would get through this. I would find that place again that allowed me to breathe. I would find the strength I had forged over the past year.

  She waited for me as she always did. The quiet of the swamp bolstered me, and I started to talk. And, with a soft hush, the swamp listened to my secret, taking it into its dark, shadowed soul.

  #

  Boone

  I woke up to the unmistakable smell of my favorite dish. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming it. But when I opened my heavy, bleary eyes, it didn’t go away. A freakin’ miracle.

  I crawled slowly out of bed, the flu having a good, solid hold on me now. I had gone to the doctor and gotten diagnosed and treated for the flu, a rare occurrence in the summer. In the bathroom, I hacked and blew my nose, cursing little microscopic bugs to fucking hell.

  When I walked out of my room, I was surprised to find Brax in the kitchen, the mixer going on what smelled like…wait…garlic potatoes. Okay, this was interesting. Brax didn’t show it often, but I knew he cared about me. Most of time we just threw insults at each other, but I knew how he felt, because it was exactly how I felt. We just couldn’t get around the double whammy of the triplet thing and the brother thing.

  I shuffled through the living room and groaned as my stomach cramped up something fierce.

  Brax turned around. For a moment, he studied my face. I knew I had a shiner and a cut lip. For the first time in my life, Brax looked upset.

  “Hey, you bastard. You tryin’ to get back into my good graces?” I said, to ease the tension.

  “Yeah, you fucker,” he replied, shooting me a mocking Brax grin.

  I think we both felt a little better then.

  I inhaled and sighed out my exhale. “If I’m not mistaken, and I’m never wrong about meat loaf, you, Chef Braxton, have been cooking me a kiss ass and make up meal.”

  “Yeah, I got a kiss for you. A hot one at the end of my fist.”

  I rubbed at my sore eye. “No, thanks. I’ve been kissed enough already. I’ll pass.” I chuckled and came around the island. Then stopped dead when I saw the black guitar case that was propped at the entrance to the foyer.

  “What’s that?”

  “Geezus, you moron. It’s meat loaf, and you better get down on your knees and worship the culinary ground I walk on, because I also made you green beans, French Cajun style just like Aunt Heloise, and my melt-in-your-mouth biscuits.”

  I groaned at that. “No dessert?”

  Brax laughed. “Yes, you jerk. Strawberry shortcake. Again, your favorite.”

  “Wow, I should sock you in the jaw more often. But, huckleberry, I know what the food is, what is that guitar case?”

  Braxton turned around and walked over to the case. “It’s your fucking Christmas gift. But since I broke your excellent instrument with my ass, which I mourned in the car all the way back to Outlaws, I couldn’t leave you high and dry. I know you love to play before you go to bed.”

  A scrap of conversation came back to me. Do you cry at sappy movies? I had taken the fifth, if I remembered correctly, but there were other things that choked up a man. Brotherly love. Well, that was something that always got to me.

  He brought the case to the island and set it on top. “I’ll let you do the honors.”

  With trembling fingers I flipped up the clasps, lifting up the top of the case, and looked down at a 1964 Epiphone El Dorado FT-90. For a moment I couldn’t quite breathe. I looked at Brax and he was eyeing the beautiful instrument.

  “Where did you get this?”

  He looked at me. “You’re not going to believe it. I found it at a garage sale over in Lafayette. Couple didn’t even know what they had. Price tag was twenty bucks. Belonged to the woman’s daddy.”

  “Geezus. These usually go for about three or four thou. Did you tell them?”

  “Yeah, I’m no thief. I told them what it was worth and offered half. They were kinda blown away that I was so honest and gave it to me for that price. I thought you’d really love having an El Dorado since you’re getting into that flamenco stuff.”

  I turned to him and grabbed him by the back of the neck and pressed my forehead to his. He put his hand on my forearm and squeezed. For a moment, we just stood there and bonded.

  “Thank you. This is…means…it’s the best.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said as we pulled away from each other, avoiding eye contact. “Now I’m stuck with finding you something else spectacular for Christmas.”

  “This is more than enough. I never thought I would own anything like this.”

  “No, actually, it’s not. Look, sometimes I’m a sarcastic SOB. I shouldn’t have said that about Holy Mary.”

  “Yeah, well, now you know that I don’t like it.”

  “Got that,” he rubbed at his own bruised jaw. “Doesn’t mean I won’t spout off again,” he warned. “She’s a whole hell of a lot more trouble than Aubree Walker could ever think to be. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  I nodded.

  “Of course you do. We’re the fucking Outlaws. We can’t do anything easy.”

  There wasn’t a thing that was easy about Verity and the way she’d left me hanging. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked, Boone. When the fuck had she seen me naked, and what the fuck had we been doing?

  “And, don’t fucking scare me like that again, Boonie. Or I will kick your ass.”

  I shifted. “I’m sorry, Brax.”

  He punched me in the arm. “Nice right hook, by the way. All that lifting gives you quite a punch, huckleberry.”

  “Well, then next time you’ll be forewarned.”

  “Right, then I’ll fight dirty.”

  I shoved him. “Let’s eat. My kiss ass and make up meal is getting cold.”

  “Shit! My biscuits!”

  #

  Boone

  Later that day, too sick to do anything else, I went into my office and tried to make sense of all my paperwork.

  “Where you at?” Remy called.

  Remy Beaupre is one of my Cajun cousins on my ma’s side of the family. Remy’s ma and mine are sisters.

  “Office. Grab me some water.”

  My Aunt Heloise and Uncle Otis had been a big help when my daddy left my ma with triplets to raise and no support. I’d never forget the times we spent with my pistol of an aunt and my musically talented uncle. He taught me to play the guitar and Brax the fiddle. All of us used to play together in big family jam sessions. It had been a blast.

  Remy was the oldest of my cousins. Same coloring as us Outlaws. Dark hair, blue eyes. But he had a slight Cajun accent and he was bigger, took after my bear of an uncle.

  He threw me the water and I caught it. My headache hadn’t abated, and I figured I was going to have to break down and take something for it any minute now.

  “Coonass.”

  “What are you doing here this early in the morning?”

  “I had an errand to run over in this neck of the woods and I wanted to see you anyway.”


  “About what?”

  He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled. “I got a job for you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. My boss is looking to re-landscape the whole place. I showed him some of your work and he’s blown away. He wants to talk to you.”

  My cousin worked for Eula Downs, a racetrack outside of the small town of Petit Libellule in Cajun Country. It sported a racetrack, hotel and casino. My cousin started there when he was in high school and now had worked his way up to assistant manager. At only twenty-three, he was pulling in a nice salary, and without a college education.

  I downed the bottle of water.

  “Fuck me. That sounds like a great opportunity, but hell, I’d have to grow my business.”

  He came into the room and pushed papers off a chair near the desk and sat down. “It includes a contract for maintenance.”

  I leaned back in the chair. “No shit. I have a small crew that does a few places, but nothing like the Downs.”

  “Well, here’s his card. Just give him a call and set something up.”

  I took the business card and looked down at it. “Does he understand how young I am? I’ve had some push-back about that. I’m turning twenty next month, though.”

  “I told him, so he knows. Hell, they gave me a chance, and now they tell me they couldn’t do without me.” He laughed. “Hey, do you have a suit?”

  “Fuck, no. I dig in the dirt, huckleberry, and it’s murder on the knees.”

  He punched me in the shoulder. “You dumbass. Get yourself a suit for the business meeting. This is the big time, and it’ll be great publicity for you.”

  “I really appreciate the work, Remy. Thanks.”

  “Anything for my cousin. Tell Book and Brax hey from Cajun Country.”

  I was a little blown away by the offer, but would have to wait till I got my brain back to make the call. I muddled through the paperwork for another half an hour, then got tired of it.