by Patricia Kay
Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face because he said, “What is it?” His grip on her hand tightened.
“Oh, Jack. I was so scared…” Tears trembled in her eyes, and she had to fight against the urge to bury her face in his chest and cry out her relief.
“Nicole,” he whispered. “I’m all right.”
She nodded, sniffing. She reached for her tote bag, extracted a crumpled tissue, blew her nose.
“Now, come on, tell me about Arnold,” he said.
So she told him how the police had come and hauled Derek Arnold off, how a young officer had later come to the hospital to take her statement, how the lieutenant in charge had come still later to tell her that it looked as if Derek Arnold had really believed she was his wife.
“So Elise is definitely alive,” Jack said. He closed his eyes. “Damn. I wish I didn’t feel so tired. I’m anxious to try to locate her aunt.” He opened his eyes, looked at her. “What day is it, anyway? How much time have we lost?”
“It’s Tuesday. But quit worrying,” Nicole said. “Sleep. The only thing you need to concentrate on right now is getting stronger. Then we’ll look for Elise’s aunt.”
The following day Jack’s sister, Jenny, arrived. Nicole took one look at her—the same wonderful blue eyes, the concern and love in her worried expression—and knew she and Jenny would be friends.
And when Nicole impulsively hugged her, and Jenny, after only a moment’s hesitation, responded in kind, Nicole’s heart was almost too full to speak.,
“Jack’s told me a lot about you,” Jenny said.
“You, too,” Nicole echoed.
“I can’t get over how much you look like Elise.”
Nicole smiled.
“Is Jack going to be all right? I was so scared when you called. So afraid you weren’t telling me the whole truth.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Nicole assured her.
The two women smiled at each other, understanding without words that they each cared very much about the man in the room they were about to enter.
Nicole hung back, but she still had a clear view of Jack’s eyes when Jenny walked into the room. She saw the leap of happiness, the love and trust that was obvious in the way they held each other’s hands, the gentleness of the kiss Jenny gave him, the tender concern in her voice as they greeted each other. Seeing the way they felt about each other told Nicole a lot about Jack—that his facade of being a loner was just that—a facade. Obviously, his twin meant a lot to him, just as much as Nicole’s brothers and sister meant to her. It was also obvious that Jenny felt the same way.
For some reason, this made Nicole feel more hopeful about her own uncertain future where Jack was concerned.
That night, after a long conversation with her parents and Aimee, Nicole and Jenny ate dinner together. Jack had urged them to go. “I don’t want you two sitting around here all day and all night,” he said. Nicole had still not gone back to work, and she thanked God she had stockpiled so much vacation time. She felt a little guilty about running out on Julianne when they were so busy, but Julianne had told her not to worry about anything.
During dinner, Nicole brought Jenny completely up to date on everything she and Jack had managed to ferret out about Elise Arnold. “What is she like?” Nicole asked. “All I have is Jack’s version, but you and Elise were good friends, and you can give me a woman’s point of view.”
Jenny smiled sadly. “Elise is a special person. At least she was to me. Gentle, sweet, lovely, kind, generous. She’s the kind of person who isn’t capable of hurting anyone.” Jenny’s blue eyes darkened. “I guess that’s why it made me so angry when I realized her husband was abusing her. If anyone didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, it was Elise.”
“You cared for her very much,” Nicole said.
“Very much.” Jenny toyed with her lime sorbet, her voice reflective. “To understand our relationship, you have to understand both of us. Like Elise, I had never made friends easily. In fact, other than Jack—and I suppose you know that twins share a special bond—and Kevin, my husband, I had never really had a close friendship. I’d had what I thought were friends—girls in high school, girls in college—but not the kind of friendship where you felt safe. ” She directed her intense blue gaze on Nicole. “Do you know what I mean when I say ‘safe’?”
Nicole nodded slowly. “When you trust the other person completely...when no matter what you might tell them, they won’t judge you, and they won’t love you less. It’s when they won’t betray you.”
“Exactly,” Jenny said. “Elise and I were like kindred spirits. We recognized the same need in each other, and although it took time, we grew closer and closer. Elise began to confide in me, but unfortunately, she needed more help than I could even begin to give her. She needed counseling, professional expertise I didn’t have, and I was afraid she’d never have the strength to break away from Derek.”
“But she did break away.”
Jenny nodded, her forehead knit in thought. “That’s the way it looks now. I just hope... you don’t think there’s any chance Derek was pretending he thought you were Elise, do you?”
“You mean to throw us off the scent, or something?”
“Yes.”
Nicole remembered the ugly fury in Derek Arnold’s voice as he screamed at Jack, the obscenities he’d spewed, the hate in his eyes when she’d come at him. “I don’t think anyone is that good an actor. No, he really believed I was his wife. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”
Jenny’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank God. I guess there was still some small part of me that was afraid to believe it. I guess all we have to do now is figure out where she is and try to get her word that Derek can no longer harm her.”
Nicole went back to work on Thursday. Jack was released from the hospital on Friday. On Saturday he insisted that he, Jenny and Nicole drive over to Abbeville to try to locate Elise Arnold’s aunt. Nicole and Jenny agreed, on the condition that Nicole would drive.
So Saturday, at noon, the three of them were in the Abbeville post office, and Nicole was sweet-talking the postmistress, a short, plump Cajun lady with salt-and-pepper hair and a missing front tooth. She was standing behind a barred window, and wearing a name tag that read: Estelle Dubois.
“Marie Sonnier?” the postmistress said. She nodded her head up and down. “Oh, mais oui, chere, I remember Marie Sonnier. But she hasn’t lived here in Abbeville for a long time, chere. No, she’s been gone at least ten years.” Nicole’s heart sank. “Oh, dear...”
“But I’ll bet Octave could tell you where she went, chere.”
“Octave?”
Estelle Dubois grinned. “Octave Arceneaux, our letter carrier.” She turned, shouted, “Octave! Octave! Come up here. A pretty girl wants to talk to you.” Her grin got wider. “Old Octave, he still likes the pretty girls!”
Jack, who was standing off to the side, chuckled. “Who doesn’t?”
Nicole gave him a mock frown, her heart giving a little blip when she saw the expression in his eyes. She hurriedly looked away. Behind her, Jenny laughed softly.
A small, skinny man who looked to be in his sixties came shuffling slowly to the window. He looked at Nicole, his dark eyes lighting up.
“This here is Nicole Cantrelle from Baton Rouge way, Octave, and she’s lookin’ to find old Marie Sonnier. I told her you pro’bly could tell her where Marie is.”
Octave nodded, his wispy hair falling across his deeply tanned face. “You a frien’ of Marie’s, chere?”
“I’m a friend of her niece’s,” Nicole answered.
“Well, ol’ Marie, she’s in a nursin’ home up in Acadia Parish.” He frowned. “Lemme see if I can remember ’xactly. She’s stayin’ in a home run by the Ursuline nuns. I believe it’s in Evangeline, or right outside Evangeline. Marie, she used to have mail forwarded to her, but these past five, six years, nothin’s come for her, so I don’t rightly remember.” He gave N
icole an apologetic look. “In fact, I don’t rightly know if old Marie is still alive. If she is, she’d be mebbee eighty-seven, eighty-eight years old.”
Nicole thanked him and thanked the postmistress. Then she and Jack and Jenny walked outside where they talked for a few minutes. “How many nursing homes can there be near Evangeline?” Jack mused.
“Let’s call Evangeline information and see,” Nicole suggested.
“Will they tell us that kind of thing?” Jenny asked.
“Let me try,” Nicole said.
They found a pay phone, and Jack and Jenny waited in the car while Nicole phoned. Five minutes later, gleeful, she rejoined them. “Success! The only nursing home around there is the Ursuline Home for Women. It’s right on Route 97.”
Jack looked at his map. “It looks like it might take us about an hour to get there.”
“Could we have some lunch first?” Nicole said. Her stomach had growled twice in the past ten minutes.
“Hey, you’re the driver,” he countered, eyes twinkling.
Nicole’s silly heart gave another lurch. Oh, she was in a bad way if she couldn’t even have a normal conversation or exchange a look with him without having that lovesick feeling sweep over her.
They ate lunch at a roadside cafe. Jenny and Nicole opted for spicy bowls of gumbo, but Jack insisted on red beans and rice. The waitress, a pretty girl with red hair and freckles, said, “I know you’re a tourist.”
“How do you know?” Jack said, winking at Nicole.
“Red beans and rice is what the natives eat on Mondays,” the waitress said. “Not Saturdays.”
After the waitress left, Nicole explained. “For Cajun women, red beans could be put on in the morning, simmer all day while they did the laundry, then be a good, filling meal to give their families that night. And even though modern-day Cajun women no longer stay at home and do their wash on Mondays, the tradition is so ingrained that all true-blue Cajuns, and most of the rest of the population of Louisiana, still have red beans and rice on Mondays.”
“I could get to like it here,” Jack said, giving her a charged look.
There was that hollowed-out feeling again. Nicole shook it off. She’d better get used to him not being around, because her gut told her the closer they got to Marie Sonnier, the closer they got to Jack’s leaving.
They found the Ursuline Home for Women easily, although getting there wasn’t as simple as they thought it was going to be. Unfortunately, they had to take secondary roads most of the way, and they got caught behind several big open trucks loaded with sugar cane. Not only did they have to drive slowly until they could get around the trucks, but the roads were sticky with residue from fallen cane that had gotten smashed under the tires of passing cars.
So it was nearly three o’clock when they reached the large plantation-like setting of the nursing home. They drove through iron gates and up a driveway shaded by chinaberry trees wearing their brilliant yellow autumn foliage. It was a tranquil, lovely setting, and Nicole thought it might not be so bad to be old and sick if you could look out over this vista.
They parked Nicole’s car and walked up the broad front steps to the veranda. There were several old women wrapped in lap robes sitting on chairs in the afternoon sunshine. There was one attendant who nodded to them as they walked by.
“Let me do the talking,” Jack said as they entered the front door.
Nicole and Jenny exchanged glances. Jenny smiled, and Nicole smiled back. She knew Jack needed to feel he was once more in control. Ever since his injury, he’d been chomping at the bit. She wondered what he’d be like if he ever got really sick and incapacitated. His impatience and inability to remain inactive for long drove home the knowledge that Jack needed adventure, excitement, and most of all—challenge.
The two women hung back as Jack talked to the young woman sitting behind the reception desk. Nicole idly wondered if the woman was a nun. She was dressed in a plain blue skirt and white blouse and wore no makeup. Most telling of all, she didn’t preen the way most women did around a man as attractive as Jack. Yes, she must be a nun.
Jack smiled, and the woman stood. She walked briskly down the corridor and disappeared into a room at the end. Jack turned to Nicole and Jenny. He beckoned them forward. “She says Marie Sonnier is here,” he murmured as they approached. “But she has to check and see if it’s okay for us to talk with her.”
They waited a few minutes, and Nicole could see by the gleam in Jack’s eyes that he was excited. Like a hunter spying his prey, she thought. Jenny, however, looked apprehensive.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Nicole asked softly.
Jenny gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know it’s silly, but for some reason, I’m scared.” She closed her eyes briefly, then said, “I’m praying we’ll get some information about Elise. I just want to know she’s all right.”
A few seconds later, the young receptionist returned. She turned kind green eyes on them. “Mother Clothilde said you may speak with Miss Marie, but only for a few moments. She’s very old, you know, and she’s nearly blind.”
They followed the receptionist down the hall, where she turned left and led them into another wing. Soon she pushed open a door and said, “Miss Marie. Some visitors for you.” A very frail, very wrinkled old woman sat in a wheelchair in front of a large window that overlooked the back of the property. Sunshine poured through the window and illuminated her face, which was feathered with hundreds of fine lines. Cloudy brown eyes turned in their direction, but Nicole could see that they were unfocused. “Visitors? Who are they?” she said in a shaky, high voice.
Jack spoke. “My name is Jack Forrester, Miss Sonnier. I work as an investigative journalist for World Press. My sister and I are friends of your great-niece, Elise Arnold. We’ve been looking for her for a long time, and our search brought us here to you.”
“Come here, come here,” the old woman said. “I can’t see very well, you know.” She made a sound like a snort. “I’m nearly ninety years old. I should be dead, but I’m not. People shouldn’t live to be ninety years old.”
Jack walked forward, followed by Nicole and Jenny. “Come closer,” Marie insisted, frowning. “I want to touch you. Give me your hand.”
Jack, with an amused backward glance at Jenny and Nicole, did as he was told. He held out his right hand and grasped Marie’s gnarled fingers. She laid her other hand on top of his and rubbed it. “Tell me what you want with my great-niece,” she ordered.
Nicole thought the old woman had a lot of spunk left in her for someone her age.
“My sister and I want to make sure she’s safe. We also want to let her know her husband will never be able to hurt her again.”
“Why not?” the old woman demanded.
Nicole stifled a giggle. She liked Marie Sonnier.
“Who’s that?” Marie turned her head in Nicole’s direction.
Jack shrugged. He motioned for Jenny and Nicole to come closer. “This is my sister, Jenny Wharton.”
“Hello, Miss Sonnier,” Jenny murmured.
“Speak up. Speak up!”
Jenny grinned. “I said hello, Miss Sonnier.”
Marie insisted on going through the hand-holding ritual once more. “Now who’s the other woman with you?” Nicole stepped forward. “I’m Nicole Cantrelle.”
“Cantrelle!” Marie’s eyes widened, and she peered forward.
“Yes. And I think Elise is my cousin.”
“Give me your hand,” Marie ordered. Nicole put her right hand out. When the old woman grasped her hand, Nicole had the oddest sensation, almost as if there were a silent communication between them. When Marie let her hand go, Nicole felt a sharp sense of loss.
“Lucy? Lucy? Are you still there?” Marie said.
The young receptionist, whom Nicole had forgotten about, walked into the room from her position by the open door. “I’m here, Miss Marie.”
“Make him show you some identification. I want to know these peopl
e are who they say they are.”
Jack pulled out his I.D., and Jenny reached inside her purse. Nicole did the same, handing Lucy her driver’s license. Lucy verified their identification.
Marie nodded, eyes narrowed. For long moments she remained still, lost in thought. The silence stretched. Faint noises, indicative of the nursing home’s routine, drifted into the room as they all waited.
“You’ll find her in Abbeville,” she finally said.
Jack and Jenny and Nicole all looked at one another. Abbeville. They’d just come from Abbeville. “Where?” Nicole and Jack said in unison.
“She’s living with the daughter of an old friend of mine— Cleoma Guidry. She’s going by the name of Elise Guidry.”
“Where do the Guidrys live?” Jack asked.
Marie closed her eyes, leaned her head against the back of the wheelchair. “Cleoma owns an antique shop. Only one in town. Ask anybody.”
“She’s very tired,” Lucy said. “You’d better go now.” Jack nodded. “Thank you, Miss Sonnier. Thank you very much.”
The old lady’s eyes fluttered open. “Goodbye. God bless you.”
Excitement gripped the three of them as they drove back to Abbeville, following the same painstakingly slow roads.
“The antique shop will be closed for the night,” Jack said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“But how many Guidrys can live in Abbeville?” Jenny said.
“Only about fifty or sixty,” Nicole said.
Jack laughed. “So it might be a long night.”
It was dark by the time they drove into the small town. As they drove down the main street, Jenny said, “Look! There’s the shop!”