Shadows of Home: A Woman with Questions. A Man with Secrets. A Bayou without Mercy

by Deborah Epperson

  True to his word, Royce had called every night for the past eight nights. Some days, he phoned twice. Elita told him about her visit to Moccasin Bayou. He wasn’t surprised to hear the trip had provided her with no answers about her father’s death. He’d warned her it’d be a waste of time, but to his credit, he understood why she needed to make the trip.

  She mentioned she’d stopped at Tadpole Island, but omitted telling Royce about the marijuana and her mysterious stalker. That was a story best told in person. She didn’t want to waste his calls fighting over her going into the Caddo alone. Time was short and Mamaw Pearl had big ears. Nothing would please Pearl more than to hear Royce and her granddaughter arguing.

  Still thinking about Royce, Elita removed the clothespin from the corner of a sheet and found herself eyeball to eyeball with Jax Boudreaux. A short yelp escaped her lips as she stumbled backward.

  She clutched at her chest. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. “Damn, Jax. You almost scared me to death. Why did you sneak up on me like that?”

  “What’cha doin’ in the Caddo alone? I done told ya the loup-garou was watching ya.”

  Elita flipped her ponytail off her shoulder. “Was that you following me around, trying to scare me the other day?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are you sure you weren’t hiding in the bushes on Tadpole Island?” It would be a relief to find out the figure in the shadows belonged to Jax. He might be a tad delusional with his talk of a loup-garou, but she figured he was harmless.

  “Why would I hide in the bushes?” His brows knitted together to form one long, muddy-brown eyebrow that shaded dark drooping eyes. “Why’d ya go back to Tadpole Island after I done told ya not to? That’s just dang stupid, Girl.”

  She had to laugh at the baffled look on his face.

  “Gettin’ bit by a loup-garou ain’t funny. I’m tryin’ to help ya, but ya don’t listen too good.”

  Elita’s laugh simmered into a smile. Somewhere in Jax’s mixed up mind, he truly believed she was in danger. He sincerely wanted to save her from the monsters that lived in his child-like fantasies. His concern for her touched her heart.

  In an effort to reassure her misguided white knight, Elita laid her hand on his arm. “You’re right, Jax. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “You’d best be careful cause the loup-garou has his eye on ya.” He looked down at her hand. “Your hand is soft like your ma’s. I was feelin’ poorly one day and she put her hand on my forehead to see ifin I had a fever. She said I didn’t. Said I’d just got myself too hot. She gave me three big glasses of ice tea. Your ma was a good woman.”

  Elita could feel the burn of tears welling behind her eyes. “Yes, she was.”

  Madeline Dupree had a way of making everyone around her feel like they were important, feel like they mattered. Most folks either ignored Jax or shooed him away. In her mind, Elita could picture her mother giving Jax something to eat and drink and asking him about the things that interested him.

  “I’ve got a blackberry cobbler cooling on the stove, Jax. Come on in and I’ll fix you a bowl.”

  “Don’t eat blackberries. The seeds get ’tween my teeth. Your ma gave me four peach fried pies once. Peach is my favorite. Why didn’t ya make a peach cobbler?”

  “I didn’t have any peaches.”

  “You can buy good peaches at . . . .” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted to a truck pulling up in the driveway. He pivoted and without a word took off running toward the woods.

  Elita swiveled to see what had sent Jax fleeing. Uncle Matt and Luther Boudreaux got out of Luther’s truck and headed toward her.

  Luther hurried across the yard. “Was that my brother?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What the devil is he doing coming around here?”

  “We were just talking.”

  Lines raced across Luther’s forehead. “What was that halfwit telling you?”

  Elita felt a slab of tension wedge between her shoulder blades. She didn’t like Luther’s accusatory tone or his name-calling. Talk of a loup-garou would only give him more ammunition to berate his brother’s mental capabilities.

  Matt joined them. “What’s going on?”

  “That numbskull brother of mine has been bothering your niece.”

  “Jax has not!” Elita shook her finger at Luther. “And he is not a numbskull.”

  A look of disbelief settled on Luther’s face. “Everybody knows he ain’t right in the head. Just ask your uncle.”

  Matt skimmed his hand through his hair. “Jax has a few problems, but they’re not his fault.”

  “A few problems? My brother’s a knucklehead.”

  “Jax can’t help the way he is,” Matt said. “Don’t be so hard on him.”

  Luther shrugged. “I don’t like it when he goes around pestering folks. Pa doesn’t like it either.”

  “He wasn’t bothering me,” she repeated. “We were just talking.”

  “About what?” Luther asked. “You can’t believe a word out of his mouth.”

  Kin turning on kin didn’t set well with Elita. It went against everything in her upbringing, against everything a Dupree stood for. “If you must know, we were talking about fruit.”

  Luther frowned. ”Fruit?”

  “Yes, fruit. I offered Jax a bowl of a blackberry cobbler I made earlier, but he declined. He prefers peaches.”

  The worried look on Luther’s face ebbed. “That boy does like his peaches.” He removed a cigarette from the pocket of his Dickie shirt. “I like blackberries.” He lit his smoke, took a long drag, blew it out. “Yes sir, I’d take a blackberry cobbler over a peach cobbler any day of the week.”

  Matt and Elita traded glances. No one ever accused Luther of being subtle.

  “Would you like some cobbler, Luther?” Matt asked.

  He smiled. “If you’ve got some extra, I might eat a bite.”

  “There’s a pan cooling on the stove,” Elita said. “Help yourself.”

  Luther tapped out his cigarette, slipped the half-smoked butt back into the package. “You coming, Matt?”

  “In a minute. I need to give Elita her mail. Save some cobbler for me.”

  “Will do.” He headed for the back porch.

  Elita waited until he entered the house. “I detest the way Luther talks about his brother.”

  “He’s rough on Jax, but I know he worries about his brother too.” Matt ran his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide a yawn.

  “You look tired, Uncle Matt. Are you feeling bad?”

  “I feel okay. Having a little trouble sleeping. Too much on my mind, I guess.” He handed her a square, cream-colored envelope. “What was Jax really talking about?”

  “Just his usual warning about how I shouldn’t be going out into the Caddo alone.”

  “His usual warning?”

  Elita hadn’t planned to mention Jax’s wild story of how the loup-garou was stalking her, but since her uncle asked, she told him.

  “Jax may be right. You probably shouldn’t be taking the boat out alone.”

  “Surely, Uncle Matt, you don’t believe such things as a loup-garou really exist?”

  “I’ve heard stories about them all my life. I know a couple of smart fellows who swear the loup-garou is as real as that alligator yonder.” He pointed to the bank opposite Devin’s Cove.

  Elita was somewhat surprised to see a five foot gator soaking up the noonday sun. With its eyes closed, the alligator looked like it was sleeping. She knew it was just waiting for some curious critter to wander too close.

  She turned to her uncle. “I’ve been going into the Caddo alone since I was a kid, and I’m too old to believe in Bigfoot, werewolves, or Santa Claus.”

  Matt grinned. “You always were a stubborn little cuss.”

  “I’m not so little anymore.”

  “That’s my point. You’re a beautiful young woman now, and there’s been a lot of new people move into the area in the last
five years. There are more weekenders and campers now too. Most of them are men who supposedly come to fish, but spend most of their time drinking.” He rubbed his forehead. “I hate to think about what could happen if a couple of them came across you traipsing around some island alone.”

  Elita sighed. “You sound like Luther now.”

  “The Boudreaux’s know the Caddo better than anyone, even me. Luther keeps his ear to the ground and knows what goes on around here better than most.”

  “He keeps his ear to the ground and his mouth wide open.”

  “The man does like to gossip.” Matt pointed to the envelope. “That looks pretty fancy.”

  The name on the return address read Mrs. Virginia Reed. Elita slid a nail under the flap to open the envelope and pulled out the invitation. “I’ve been expecting this.”

  “What is it?”

  “An invitation to a graduation party for Royce’s cousin, Susan. He called to say his aunt was inviting me.” Elita passed the invitation to her uncle.

  Matt read the card, then handed it back to her. “Sounds like a great time. You’re going, aren’t you?”

  Elita ran her finger over the raised lettering. Gold foil-lined envelope, the finest linen paper, a stamped RSVP return card, the best stationery Sutton oil money could buy. “Royce wants me to go. He said he’d try to meet me there, but I’m not sure I want to go. It’ll be mostly their family and close friends. I’d feel out of place.”

  “Nonsense. You’d fit in fine.”

  She shrugged. “Dorothea is bound to be there. I don’t relish the thought of listening to her snide remarks.”

  Matt cupped his fingers under his niece’s chin, lifted it, and forced her eyes to meet his. “You’ve been standing up to that woman since you were knee high to a crawfish. You back down from her now and I’ll disown you.”

  Elita hugged him.

  “You remember Susan, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Some. The Reeds only visited Sutton Manor on weekends and holidays, and Susan stayed in the house most of the time. The last time I saw her, she was eleven, maybe twelve. I doubt she remembers me.”

  “I bet she does.” Matt stooped to pick up a small rock. “It’s hard to believe Susan is graduating high school already. She’ll be eighteen this summer.” As he talked, he bounced the stone in his hand. “Time goes by so fast. You wake up one morning and discover everything has slipped right past you.” He hiked one knee and sent the rock flying. It slammed into a pecan tree with a loud crack.

  The tension in her uncle’s words surprised Elita. “I’ll think about going.”

  “Don’t think about it. Just go.” Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell you what, I need to go to Shreveport on business. I can drop you off at the party and Royce can bring you home.”

  “But Royce is still in Cameron. He might not make it to the party.”

  “I’ll call before I head home. If Royce doesn’t show, I’ll pick you up.” He gave her ponytail a playful tug. “You should get to know Susan. She’s family.”

  “She’s Royce’s family, not mine.”

  “That’s what I meant to say. She’s part of his family and he’s important to you. So you should go.”

  “You talked me into it.”

  “Good. I’d better go get some of that cobbler before Luther finishes it off.” Matt started for the house, but stopped. “Think about what I said about going out in the Caddo alone.”

  “I will.”

  He pointed at the alligator. “And stay away from the riverbank until that guy decides to take up residence someplace else.”

  She nodded. “Please don’t tell Luther that Jax talked about the loup-garou. He’ll just ride the poor man harder.”

  “I won’t. You coming?”

  “In a minute. Go wrestle some of that cobbler away from Luther.”

  He laughed. “You bet.”

  As she gathered the rest of the laundry, Elita’s mind replayed Jax’s warnings. She thought he was telling the truth about not being on Tadpole Island that day. So how did he know she’d been out in the Caddo? Had he seen her heading to Moccasin Bayou? Was he following her, and if so, why? She folded the last sheet and put it in the basket. Her uncle’s words and actions puzzled her too.

  Matt Dupree had a reputation of being a responsible, easy-going guy who wouldn’t talk your ear off. It was common knowledge that he was one of the best hunting and fishing guides on Caddo Lake. With his dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, and skin permanently tanned by too many hours in the Caddo sun, he might easily be pegged as being of Spanish descent. But when he spoke, his accent—Southern, with a lyrical trace of Cajun around the edges—marked him Louisiana French. A lifetime of outdoor work had kept his six-foot-one frame lean, strong, and looking years younger than his actual age of forty years. In a family where most of the men tied the knot early, Matthew Gaston Dupree was an oddity. Despite having several girlfriends over the years, he’d never married.

  It seemed important to him that she go to Susan’s party. Why? Elita wondered. If money worries were keeping him awake, why turn down folks wanting to hire him for their guide? He and everyone else seemed dead set against her going into the Caddo alone. Did her uncle know about the marijuana? If so, why hadn’t he told Sheriff Glover about it?

  Elita picked up the clothesbasket and headed to the house. She’d come home to the Caddo to find some answers. So far, all she’d found was more questions.

  CHAPTER 13

  Elita parked herself on a bench beneath an arbor laden with vines of Confederate jasmine. The party had started at four in the afternoon. It was now after eight and Royce still hadn’t arrived. She’d spent much of the four hours sauntering through the lovely gardens surrounding the late nineteenth century country estate.

  It felt good to sit down, felt even better to slip off her heels. The invitation had described the party as a barbeque. Casual dress, bring your bathing suit, towels will be provided. Even so, Elita decided to wear a green, A-line sleeveless dress, open-toed taupe heels, and her dark curls in a French twist. It proved to be a good decision.

  She defined casual wear as shorts, jeans, and pullover tops. For the Reed’s, casual apparently meant designer pantsuits for the women, sport coats and slacks for the men.

  Elita plucked one of the white, star-shaped flowers and inhaled its sweet perfume. The five acres surrounding the Reed’s refurbished Victorian home bloomed with every classic Southern flower imaginable, from the arching limbs of the magnolia trees that welcomed you onto the property, to the purple wisteria dangling like clusters of grapes from the arms of the giant oaks lining the riverbank. Scarlet azaleas circled the house’s foundation, while fragrant bushes of gardenias and roses of various colors beckoned guests to inhale their intoxicating scents. Blue French hydrangeas snuggled against the black wrought-iron fence.

  She leaned against the back of the bench and closed her eyes. The food had been scrumptious, the people friendly, and the hostess gracious to a fault. Elita had even managed to steer clear of Dorothea. Still, she felt disappointed because of Royce’s failure to appear.

  “There you are. Virginia has been looking for you.” Darwin Reed sat down on the bench beside Elita. “What are you doing out here alone? Most of the young people are in the pool.”

  “I’m not really in the mood for swimming.”

  “You’re not having a good time, are you?” he asked.

  “I’ve had a lovely time. Your house is beautiful and your gardens are magnificent.”

  “Thank you. Yellow roses are Virginia’s favorite, but I adore the hydrangeas. Just by adjusting the soil chemistry, I can change the colors of the flowers.’’ He sighed deeply. “Too bad it isn’t that easy to change the hearts and minds of some people.”

  His last statement surprised Elita. Who was he talking about? She studied the impeccably dressed Darwin Reed and decided to shift their conversation to a lighter topic. “The tiny white lights and paper lanterns strung through the tree
s look so festive.”

  “I told Virginia the paper lanterns would look marvelous.”

  “Are y’all talking about me?” Virginia walked up to them, crossed her arms. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

  He stood. “Of course not. Elita and I were discussing the garden lights.”

  “You did your usual fantastic job, Darwin,” Virginia said. “Susan is thrilled.”

  “That’s all that matters to me.” He turned to Elita. “You and Susan should spend more time together. I think you could become great friends.”

  “I’d like that, and I’m sure Royce would too.”

  “I’d better go check on our guests.” He headed back up the path to the house.

  Virginia Reed sat down beside her. “Did you get enough to eat, Elita?”

  “Too much. It was all delicious.”

  Virginia patted Elita’s hand. “I’m sorry Royce hasn’t got in yet. He called to say he’d see you at the brunch for sure.”

  “Brunch?”

  “I’m hosting a family brunch here tomorrow for Susan. It’ll be Darwin’s parents, Dorothea, Cliff, Royce, you, and us.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I couldn’t intrude on your family.”

  “You wouldn’t be intruding. Besides, I think of you as family.”

  Elita’s hand went to her throat. “You do? Why?”

  Virginia laughed softly. “Because my favorite nephew is crazy about you, and if I show up tomorrow without you, he’ll be disappointed.” She leaned in close. “I don’t like to disappoint the people I love. Do you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then it’s settled. I booked a room for you at my favorite hotel and packed an overnight bag with everything you’ll need for tonight and in the morning.” She stood. “You and Susan are about the same size. I bought her the cutest peach-colored sundress that she has never worn. I’ll send it along in case you want something to change into.”

  Stunned, Elita shook her head in amazement.

  “Virginia? Where are you?” a woman called.