The Road to Bayou Bridge

by Liz Talley

  “She limps,” he whispered under his breath.

  Nate’s gaze jetted to his. “Yeah, the wreck nearly killed her, remember?”

  He shook his head. “No. I knew she broke her leg, but I didn’t know much about it. Her mother wouldn’t even let me see her and then when—” No sense in bringing up what had happened after the accident with his father. “You know, doesn’t matter anymore. I didn’t know Renny had been affected to such a degree.”

  His eyes landed on the back of the slim woman moving through the grasses in her big, ugly white boots that came to her knees. The white drape covered the rest, but there was no disguising the pronounced limp. Something jabbed at his insides. Not pity because he could never pity anything as uniquely beautiful as Renny, but something sharp and bitter. Regret. Shame. Guilt. Something. Because he’d done that to her. He’d broken the girl he’d loved. And that stung. Even if no one had allowed him to make it right all those years ago.

  Of course Renny hadn’t wanted him or his apology. That much had been made absolutely clear that damp May afternoon when he stood waiting for her in the obscene raucousness of Jackson Square and accepted there would be no more Darby and Renny.

  “Come on. Let’s set out bait. Annie said if I bring that slop in my bucket back to the house, I could sleep on the couch, and I like my bed.” Nate headed for the ATV and the rotting chicken he had been marinating in his back shed for the past week in anticipation of alligator season.

  With one last glance at the flash of white disappearing into the brush, Darby turned and followed his brother. “I’m in the mood for crawfish. Want to head over to Henderson?”

  “Nah, Annie cooked something in the Crock-Pot. Take Renny and rehash all the good ol’ days.”

  He would if he could, but he had a feeling getting Renny to go anywhere with him would be akin to Hercules facing his twelve feats. Almost impossible.

  * * *

  RENNY TRIED TO CONTROL her trembling hands, but the shaking that had originated deep inside her belly had spilled over. Even her teeth chattered—incredible since it was a blistering ninety-one degrees outside.

  Darby Dufrene.

  Here.

  In Louisiana.

  She closed her eyes, for a split second wondering if perhaps she’d fallen asleep in her office chair and had a horrible nightmare.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the rough bark on the tree dead ahead. Nope. Still at Beau Soleil.

  Could a girl ever prepare to run into her ex?

  No, not totally. But she had been remarkably calm considering her sweaty hair was plastered to her neck and she was wrapped up in a white drape like an old couch hidden beneath a drop cloth. Plus, she wore not an ounce of makeup. Yeah, not prepared, but at least she hadn’t shaken in front of him. She turned her thoughts to the task at hand. Put him out of sight. Put him out of mind.

  She placed the hat that swathed her face back on and cautiously approached the crane, trying to make her steps as level as possible even though chances were good the bird would recognize her uneven gait and feel some measure of safety.

  Up ahead L9-10 flapped its wings as it clung to the lowest branch of a scrubby tree where there wasn’t much room for a five-foot crane. The tracking device was firmly affixed and the bird looked healthy, so other than gathering some water samples and making some notes on the general area the bird inhabited, there wasn’t much left to do.

  Why are you here? she mouthed as she looked up at the bird. The crane twisted its head, the black eyes alert to Renny below her, but it didn’t do anything more than grow still. The encounter with the gator had spooked the bird, but the familiarity of the white costume had a marked effect.

  Renny glanced across the field as the ATV rattled up the embankment, carrying Darby and his brother away from the field, and the separation was enough so her hands stopped trembling and her heart stopped thumping against her rib cage.

  Dear God.

  He’d looked so good. Different but good. His bearing was exact, no longer loose and rolling, and his carriage more erect. No lazy smile, no flirty blue eyes, no privileged fraternity boy blond hair flopping over his brow. Darby Dufrene had changed...and she hadn’t expected that.

  But why hadn’t she? It had been over ten years since they’d last seen each other. Darby had moved on to military school, the Naval Academy and law school. This was no boy slinking among the oaks with a fake ID and a naughty promise for some grown-up fun. This was a man who’d served his country, broadened his shoulders and his horizons, and maybe forgotten the Louisiana girl he’d left behind.

  Something zinged in her chest.

  Renny shook her head, furious at herself for feeling any sort of hurt or regret over the man who’d ridden away and not looked back. She didn’t need him—then or now.

  What did he have to say that was so important? It was too late for an apology, but maybe he’d truly grown up and wanted some sort of closure crap like ex-lovers demanded in all the movies.

  Fine. She’d give it to him.

  But she’d make sure she wore some lipstick and washed her hair first. No sense in looking like a backwoods coonass.

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out and looked down. Her mother. So not the person she wanted to talk to at the moment, but if she didn’t answer, Bev would call over and over again until she did. Her mother was nothing if not persistent.

  She moved away from the crane moving through the trees skirting the bayou and answered it on round two.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Darby Dufrene’s in town. Just heard it from my hairdresser, and I wanted you to know.”

  “Well, I’ll try not to tear his clothes off and impregnate myself when I see him.”

  Bev huffed. “Don’t get smart with me.”

  “I’ve already seen him, and my clothes are buttoned up tight. You can stop panicking.”

  “Where did you see him? Aren’t you still at work?”

  Renny walked to a viable spot, bent down and filled a vial with water from the flooded field. “Technically, yes. But one of our cranes got blown north and has found a home at Beau Soleil.”

  Silence sat for a moment. “Beau Soleil? You’re joking, right?”

  “I wish I were.”

  “I worry about you, you know,” her mother said, her voice slightly softer than normal. Bev Latioles made no bones about loving her daughter, even if at times that love felt like a blanket thrown over her head. Renny was always covered. In fact, Bev had even had a friend run a background check on a guy she’d dated a few years back.

  “I know, but I’m a big girl and don’t need you worrying about me. Especially about an old high school boyfriend. We were kids, Mom. He doesn’t have the same effect on me that he once did.” Renny took one last look at the bird and started making her way back the way she came, hoping that the words she’d uttered were indeed true.

  “Good because that boy was nothing but trouble, and I happen to know leopards don’t change their spots. Your father taught me that hard lesson.”

  “So you’ve said time and again, Mom.” Renny didn’t want to talk about her father. Or Darby Dufrene. Or any man for that matter.

  Not that she’d completely given up hope on finding a special someone, but her social life lay gasping for air on the side of the road. She’d been cursed in the guy department lately and had become a bit too settled in her own protective bubble of work and renovating her house.

  “You know I’m not trying to stop you from finding a good man, honey, but I don’t want you to go off track again because I know how charming Darby can be.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, okay? Darby and I are ancient history. Besides, he’s in town visiting his family.”

  “But I heard he’s out of the service and looking to join a law firm. Jackie said Helen Hammond told her that Picou said she was trying to get him to stay around here and practice. So this might not be only a visit. Just be careful around that boy. He�
��s hurt you enough, sweetheart.”

  Renny shook her head and tried to tamp down the aggravation welling inside her. Bev meant well—she always meant well—but Renny was too old to have to explain herself to her mother. “I appreciate your caring enough to call me and warn me, but the last thing I want is anything to do with Darby Dufrene. There’s nothing between us but some faded memories.”

  Renny heard her mother blow out a breath as she wove in between the trees, heading back toward the utility thruway where she’d parked her car. “Good, honey. Well, I suppose I’ll see you Sunday for my birthday? Aaron is taking us to lunch.”

  “I’ll be there.” Renny clicked off the phone and tried not to growl at the blank screen.

  Mothers.

  Did they ever let go or was hers just abnormally leechy?

  Probably just hers.

  The hum of the ATV broke her from thoughts of being smothered to thoughts of the very man her mother had warned her about moments ago. The man her mother loved to hate almost as much as Renny’s own father. She’d never understood why her mother had hung on so long to her anger at both, especially since Bev seemed relatively happy with her boyfriend, Aaron, a passive, bald chiropractor she’d met a few years ago.

  But Bev didn’t have to worry about Renny.

  She wanted nothing to do with Darby.

  No ties bound them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “YOU DIDN’T BOTHER TO mention Renny Latioles was out on the land today,” Darby said as he poured a glass of ice-cold milk into one of the tall tumblers that had occupied the kitchen for as long as he could remember.

  “No, I didn’t,” Picou said, stirring something on the huge Viking stove. It smelled like feet, but Darby wasn’t going to say as much. Maybe he’d head over to the house Nate and Annie had built a mere mile away and check out Annie’s Crock-Pot dinner.

  He took a sip. “Why?”

  His mother shrugged. “No real reason. Figured it wouldn’t really make a difference, though I suppose I should have told her you and your brother were out toting guns. Oversight on my part.”

  Darby narrowed his eyes at her erect form, covered from head to toe in black spandex. A long silver braid parted her shoulder blades, the only color on a palette of black. Odd choice in outfit even for his kooky mother, but her clothes didn’t matter. Only the fact she’d already started manipulating situations for her own reasons. What they were, he couldn’t guess.

  “Yeah. So, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “About Seattle.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it, Darby.”

  “I know you don’t, but it’s where I’ll be calling home for the near future.”

  The spoon clinked against the pot. She turned and met his gaze with eyes the same color as his own. “Why would you want to live there? It rains all the time. How is that interesting?”

  “I’m not concerned with interesting. I’m ready to start a new chapter in my life and that city fits the bill, and besides, I told you I met somebody. Right now it’s not serious, but if things go as planned, I’m thinking she’s the one.”

  Picou snorted. “The one? How long have you known her? Two months? That’s not nearly long enough to know the color of her toothbrush much less if you’ll suit for the rest of your life.”

  “It’s blue, and I haven’t made any decisions regarding Shelby, but you’re the only parent I have, so I’d appreciate some support.” He wasn’t going to tell her the only reason he knew Shelby’s toothbrush was blue was because he’d watched her pick it out at the commissary. He and Shelby hadn’t been intimate yet because he didn’t want to rush their relationship. They’d both agreed to allow things to build as they got to know each other better.

  His mother looked away, spun and turned down the fire under the saucepan. “That figures.”

  “What?”

  “Blue toothbrush. Sounds boring.”

  He almost laughed. “Mom, come on. You haven’t even met her and you’re writing her off. Besides, Nate only knew Annie for three weeks before he promised happily ever after.”

  “You’re not your brother, and I’m not writing her off. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely. I just can’t imagine you living on the West Coast. This place has always been such a part of you. Never figured you wouldn’t come home once you were done roaming.”

  “I’m home now, and there are these things called airplanes. You climb inside, buckle up and they get you where you need to go pretty quickly.”

  His mother frowned. “And cost an arm and a leg. I happen to be fond of my appendages.”

  Darby closed his eyes for a moment. Dealing with his mother had never been easy. They brushed against each other like earth along a fault line. Many said their butting heads were a result of being too much alike, but Darby knew it was because his mother tried to control every aspect of life surrounding her, including his own. Only he and his siblings saw it. Everyone else thought her harmless and loving.

  Picou had been avoiding the topic of his heading to Seattle since he’d arrived home a day before. Any time he mentioned his intent of interviewing for the position with Mackey and Associates, she snorted, sniffed or blatantly ignored him. At times she resembled his boyhood pony Marigold, but somehow he doubted feeding her an apple would appease her.

  She turned back around to face him, her face softening into the woman who’d wiped his brow when he’d vomited or blown on his boo-boos after applying antiseptic. “I understand it’s your life to live, sweetheart, but I think you should give considerable thought before making such a drastic decision. You haven’t been home in years. The distance has distorted your image of this place.”

  He blinked. “Mom, I’m not moving back to Bayou Bridge. I’m not moving into Beau Soleil. I’m nearly thirty years old, and I’ve been on my own for a long time now. I can’t go back in time.”

  “I know how old you are, and I’m not pulling out your old Star Wars sheets to put on your bed. All I’m asking, even if it sounds unreasonable, is for you to spend some time thinking about what moving to Seattle to pursue a career and wife there means in the long run.” He could see his mother tried to say the right things, the things he wanted to hear, but he knew her. On the surface she said one thing, but underneath she plotted something quite different. She wanted her baby home. She wanted him to be part of the family—a family that was finally complete with the discovery of his twin sister, Della.

  Everyone but he and Picou had believed Della to be dead. Picou proclaimed some spiritual knowledge about her children, but Darby had known. Like in his bones. When he was young, he’d dream about his sister, wake crying, asking why no one would go and get her.

  And he’d been right.

  Della had been living two hours southeast of Beau Soleil in the backwaters off Bayou Lafourche, raised by a tough old bayou woman named Enola Cheramie. Even Enola hadn’t known the girl she called Sally was the long-lost Della, for the child had been hidden there by her kidnapper, Enola’s grandson, whose body had been discovered in the waters not far from Bayou Bridge. That Della had been found was a fluke, one started when Sally discovered by accident that she wasn’t related to Enola. One thing led to another and her file had landed on Nate’s desk. His older brother said it had taken one glance to know the young teacher was a Dufrene—Della had looked almost exactly like the young Picou Dufrene in the wedding photograph sitting in the formal living room.

  So, yeah, Picou wanted to gather her brood together so she might tend them all without any interference from a husband whose will was as strong as hers. But like Martin, she’d had a hand in making Darby feel as he did. Picou had not made waves when his father sent him away. She couldn’t undo what she’d done easily.

  Picou wanted him to live the life she’d built in her head for him—living down the street, eating at her dinner table every Sunday, fishing with his brothers, basically just being at hand. But Darby had not been part of life at Beau Soleil for
some time. He didn’t feel comfortable here, didn’t know what doors stuck or where Lucille hid the cookies she baked. Even hunting with Nate that afternoon had felt forced.

  Darby sighed. “I’m considering all things, Mom, but I can’t imagine a life here in Bayou Bridge. If I stayed in Louisiana, I’d be looking at New Orleans or Baton Rouge. I’m different now, and I won’t go back to being the boy I was.”

  “Whoever said you were so awful as a child? I hope the past is not keeping you away from the present,” she said, her voice soft as the velvet hanging in the windows in the front parlor.

  “Seriously? You and Dad sent me away. Remember?”

  His mother shook her head as tears gathered in her eyes. “To grow up, not become like—”

  “That’s what I did,” he interrupted. “I grew up and I became a man who recognizes responsibility and doesn’t shirk it. A man who doesn’t want to come back to a place that is finished for him. I like where I’m headed.”

  Picou bit her lip and said nothing.

  He didn’t understand why his mother was so disappointed. His parents had sent him away, hoping military school would break him. It had. Broken him down then built him up. The navy had taken over and done the rest, and he’d emerged a skilled, reliable attorney and naval officer. “I’m here, aren’t I? This was what you wanted—for me to come home, meet Della, and sew things up for the family. But I’m not staying.”

  Picou stared at him for a full minute before shaking her head. “I don’t expect you to fix anything, Darby. I only wanted you to meet your sister and help her if you can. Just be part of this family, and don’t be afraid of finding a piece of the boy you left behind. You don’t have to live here, but you shouldn’t close your mind off and dust your hands of who you are.”

  Darby shrugged. “I’ll try.”

  He didn’t want to admit part of that boy he’d left behind had showed up that afternoon at first sight of Renny. Sheer lust had lurched through his body, stirring him, waking him, making him want to do irrational things.