The Road to Bayou Bridge

by Liz Talley

  “Did you put this song in on purpose?”

  He looked over at her and grinned. “What? This song?”

  “You did.” She wagged her finger. “You know what this song is.”

  Nodding, he pulled his gaze back onto the road. “The song that was on the radio the first time I kissed you. I swear this isn’t a CD or synced to anything. It’s on the radio. Must be fate.”

  Renny folded her arms over her seat-belted chest and refused to check his claim. Even if he was lying, the ball was in her court and she wasn’t hitting it back. She had to let Darby go. Had to remember last night was a goodbye and not a hello.

  Find your will, Renny.

  Don’t fall for him, Renny.

  For God’s sake, keep your legs crossed, Renny.

  She crossed her legs and pointed out the old graveyard. “Remember when Grayson drove his grandmother’s Caddy into the Forresters’ crypt?”

  Darby laughed. “We were drinking Cisco and you were wearing that front-clasped bra we lost behind the first base dugout.”

  “That’s what you remember? My bra?”

  “I was seventeen. Sex was all I thought about. That, baseball and where the next party was.”

  “We were stupid,” she said, watching the small community of Bayou Bridge parade by. Several people glanced their way as Darby drove through town at the pace of a tortoise. Another thing about him that had changed.

  “But we were supposed to be young and dumb—it was good, clean fun,” he said, speeding up to catch a green light, then turning off onto the highway that would take them out to the land his grandfather had willed him. It had been one of their favorite places to go because of the large pond and the open pasture surrounding the water. They’d fished, skinny-dipped and made out in the back of Darby’s truck. They’d dreamed about the house they’d build there one day, complete with three kids and a dog named Barney, after their calculus teacher. “I don’t have much fun these days. Growing up kind of sucks that way.”

  Renny remained silent because he was right. Growing up did suck. Sucked up all your dreams like a Hoover, pulling them into a bag full of lint, dust and pennies. Oh, it wasn’t all sucky, but filling the mind with mortgage payments, dry cleaners and pension plans wasn’t anything near as wonderful as prom, stolen kisses and flaming Dr Peppers.

  The sun moved toward the horizon, throwing golden splendor on the trees finally cloaked in yellowing leaves and casting shadows on the buff-colored leather seats. She watched the patterns flicker on her bared thighs and tried to skirt around the memories pulling her back into the frame of mind she’d been in last night. The frame of mind that had her panties on the floor and Darby back in her bed.

  “Why are you so resistant to being with me?”

  His words might have been a gavel slamming against wood. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re all prickly and standoffish.”

  She jerked her head. “I’m in the truck with you. I had sex with you last night. What’s standoffish about that?”

  Two-mile markers whisked by before he spoke. “You may be here, but you’re guarding yourself. I thought we’d put the past behind us, that all had been forgiven, and we’d moved on to being friends again.”

  “Is it all so black-and-white with you?” she asked, trying to stay calm as Darby waded into uncharted waters. “I wish I could be so dismissive of a broken heart. Of what we did last night even. But I can’t toss everything I’ve felt these past few years away so easily. What happened to us hurt—probably my heart more than any other part of my body. Those feelings don’t magically disappear because we found out our parents lied to us. They don’t disappear because I drank too much wine, got ambushed by those love letters, and ended up with my ankles around your neck. I spent a long time resenting you and, for good reason, I don’t want to open myself up to hurt again.”

  “You think I’m going to hurt you?” His voice mimicked that gavel again, and his hands definitely tightened on the steering wheel.

  “I think you’ve always held that power over me, and I’ve worked really hard on controlling my own life.”

  He reached the turnoff and left the road that would take them beyond a patch of woods and open up into pasture holding a large pond stocked with Florida bass and memories that might better be left beneath the shimmering surface.

  Darby followed the old path down to the water and parked beneath their tree—a large sprawling oak his great-uncle had thoughtfully left standing when he’d cleared the land for the herd of longhorn cattle he’d planned on raising. The oak had remained; the cattle had long since disappeared. Darby killed the engine and turned to her. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Renny.”

  “Then don’t.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  RENNY POPPED THE TRUCK’S lock, slid out of the vehicle, and hopped onto the crunchy grass below. The fading sun glowed, making the sky orangey and the pasture smudgy as daylight said farewell, but she didn’t feel peaceful. No, inside she was a swirling mess of doubt, fear and hope...and she really didn’t want to address it at the moment. Easier to avoid.

  She walked around the front of the truck and toward the water lapping at the thick reeds. “This has always been one of the prettiest spots in the parish.”

  Darby didn’t answer because he was lowering the tailgate and pulling something from the bed. Renny returned her gaze to the pond as he thumped around. A few mallard drakes with their hens bobbed along the far side of the pond, milling around a flock of Canadian geese that honked beneath a cluster of weeping willow. The pond looked in good condition considering the late dry summer they’d had.

  “Hold this,” Darby said, poking a fishing rod toward her.

  “Fishing?” she asked, glad he’d moved on, bypassing the tension she’d felt in the cab of the truck.

  He flashed a smile as he set a tackle box at his feet and unhooked a plastic worm from the eye on the rod he held. “I was stationed near lots of water but never took to fishing in the ocean. Many a night I lay thinking about this little patch of pasture with my pond sitting here, waiting on me.”

  She smiled, not with relief, but at the longing in his voice. He had professed he would leave his life in his home state behind, but she could hear the wistfulness in his voice. You could take the boy out of the bayou, but you couldn’t take the bayou out of the boy...or the pond.

  “Wonder if anyone comes out here anymore?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe horny kids like us.”

  His words made her sad for some reason. “Speak for yourself.”

  He squatted down and opened the box before squinting up at her. “I am, but I wasn’t the only one needing a good lay last night.”

  “Darby Dufrene.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m tired of talking about last night. I declare it ‘French’.”

  When they first started dating, Renny’s mom often stood a smidge too near the phone while they talked, stretching her ear so she could foil their nefarious plans of sneaking out. If there was something that couldn’t be spoken of, they used the class they both shared as the secret word for keeping something hush-hush.

  He chuckled. “Really? So it can’t be spoken of?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, then. French. You can pretend whatever you want, but it happened and it was gooooood.”

  “Shut up and let’s fish.” Renny bent and grabbed a lime-green speckled top water bait and expertly tied it on the line with a fisherman’s knot. “How old is this line? Don’t want it to break when I land a three-pounder.”

  He glanced at the surface of the pond. “You think we can land one that big?”

  “I think I can,” she said, heading for the place where the old pier had sunk. Had to be a nice fat bass swimming around the half-sunken structure. She let the bait fly with a precision cast right that landed exactly where the rotting wood met the water. Not two seconds later, something hit.

  “Ai-yah-yah! I got one,” she hollered, setting the hook and fighting
the pull of the line. A fish jumped, flashing silver above flying droplets before sinking beneath the surface again. She reeled fast, knowing from the weight it was a big fish.

  “Don’t stop reeling. You got him,” Darby shouted, running toward her.

  “Oh, my gosh, it’s a big one,” she shouted.

  “That’s what she said,” Darby replied, halting beside her, propping fists on his hips and watching her.

  Renny started laughing. Only Darby would throw out a double entendre while she stood in cast-off clothing fighting a bass on the end of her line. A girl could really fall in love with a guy like him.

  “That’s it. Keep it tight. Now give him slack. That’s a girl,” he said as she brought the fish to the edge of the pond.

  “You act like I don’t know how to catch a fish, Darby. You forget I won ‘big bass’ at that tournament we entered. Remember?” She reached down and jabbed her thumb into the fish’s mouth, hooking it and bringing the bass up. He was a big one, fat and white on the bottom with a nice iridescent green striping along the darker sides.

  She held the fish aloft and raised her eyebrows. “Told you I could reel one in.”

  For a moment Darby stood and stared at her, his blue eyes darker against the waning light. In them, she saw something deep and dangerous...something bordering on hope, teetering on desire, and skirting around love.

  It made her swallow. Hard.

  But then Darby pushed the kill switch on his emotions.

  “Woo, nice one. Probably a little over two pounds.” Darby took the fish from her and held it up, turning it so he could get a good look before handing it back. “I better get cooking if I’m going to prove my prowess with a rod.”

  “That’s what he said,” Renny quipped, slipping the fish back into the shallow water and watching it as it flipped its tail twice and swam away.

  Darby shook his head, a silly smile fixed into place. “I forgot.”

  Then he turned and walked back to where he’d tossed down his rod and reel, leaving her to wonder what it was exactly that he’d forgotten.

  But she kind of knew. They’d been good together in other ways besides the sheets...or in their case a lack of sheets. When you’re seventeen all that’s necessary is a little privacy and a little time. But they had been friends, too. Fishing together, hunting together, hanging out, discussing their goals, dreams and why the Atlanta Braves would win the World Series. Being together had been like plugging in the Christmas tree lights every night, giving a sort of energy, glow and rightness to the season. But that’s what it had been—a short-lived season.

  She put her thoughts back on the task at hand and, after checking her bait, she and Darby spent the next half hour bemoaning missed strikes, reeling in smaller bass and finally sinking down into the grass and sharing a beer from the cooler Darby had packed in the tool chest. Several minutes ticked by in companionable silence as the world around them settled into the inky night. Stars showed off, as a few fireflies arrived to give them competition. Cicadas chirruped and the breeze died, leaving the air hot and still.

  Darby settled back on the trunk of the old oak, brushing against her shoulder. “Been a while since I’ve enjoyed myself like that,” he said, his voice soft in the stillness.

  “Mmm,” Renny said, plucking a lanky piece of grass that brushed her shin. She supposed it had been a while for her, too. She worked all day then spent her remaining hours doing the same sort of things—laundry, restoring furniture, and avoiding any kind of activity that meant taking a risk. But the impromptu choices she’d made over the past forty-eight hours had jarred her awake to who she’d become. She liked who she was, but maybe she did need more than a cat and a steady diet of peanut butter sandwiches. At the very least, Darby’s coming home had given her better insight into that department of her life. “Me, too.”

  “Hey, Renny, you know what you said earlier about hurting you?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, we were both victims of others’ manipulations or whatever our parents want to call it.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t change the nature of the beast. Doesn’t change the way I felt. I never want to feel that way again.”

  “I understand, but I’m not trying to hurt you...just explore what this is between us. If it’s friendship, fine, but if it can be something more, shouldn’t we find out?”

  She pulled her gaze from the glow of the new moon falling on the pond and looked at him. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I can’t help wanting to protect myself, Darby, because in a week or so, you’ll move on to Seattle or wherever you’re running off to and I’ll be left here with more memories...and bitterness.”

  “You think I’m running?”

  “What?”

  His forehead furrowed as he took his turn in studying the water before them. “Me. Running. You think that’s what I’m doing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a slight shrug. “Are you?”

  “Moving to Seattle isn’t running away from my past, it’s starting a new life. Blank slate and all that.”

  “A blank slate always sounds nice.”

  He sat still as stone for a minute. “But maybe there’s more here in Louisiana,” he said, folding his arms across his bent knees. She felt his eyes on her and hope leaped in her chest like a small bird popping onto a spring branch. If she stripped herself bare, she’d admit she wanted him to want her, to want to stay in Louisiana and build the life they’d always wanted together. But thinking that way was crazy.

  It had been only three days since she first laid eyes on him again.

  They weren’t in love.

  Hell, they were getting a divorce.

  It was ridiculous to hope for something so absolutely unlikely. She had to stop herself from turning down a dead-end street.

  “There’s always more here, Darby. It will always be your home, filled with people you loved past and present. You could live anywhere else in the world for years and years and that would still hold true. The main question is why have you always avoided coming home?”

  He didn’t say anything for a while, so she waited.

  “Because hurt lives here. You, my dad, my reputation as a loser—all those things I didn’t want to face. It was easier to stay away and build a new life, be a different man—one who didn’t drink too much, didn’t drag race or let people down. I grew up and became someone unexpected—a responsible, successful man.”

  “You projected people’s judgments onto yourself. Darby, you were a kid, even tougher, you were a Dufrene. Sure everyone knew you but they didn’t fault you for doing what you were supposed to do—act like every other teenaged boy. Let the past go. No one blames you for who you were. I don’t blame you for the accident. We both made that decision.”

  His blue eyes reflected the stars, pools of light and mystery. Darby was way more complicated than anyone had ever given him credit for. Old wounds still ailed him, and he needed healing, but she wasn’t there to be salve to his soul. She couldn’t give him all of herself, leaving her heart vulnerable. “Are you coming around because you need healing?”

  He shook his head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  She hadn’t meant to voice her doubts, but they’d tumbled out, stacking up more baggage for Darby to shoulder. But being truthful was better than sitting on her feelings.

  “I’m not using you, Renny,” he said, turning to her, dropping down a knee so he could move closer. “I can’t seem to help myself. I want to be around you. You make me feel...like I— Shit.” He struggled to his feet and walked to the edge of the lake. “I don’t know. Forget everything. I’m screwing things up and taking you along with me because you’re like a comfortable pair of pants.”

  She stiffened and alarm crept round again, clocking her on the head, reminding her this wasn’t about falling in love or starting over. It was about packing the past away, comfortable pants and all.

  He spun around. “That’s not what I meant. I mean I feel better when I’
m with you.”

  She tried to pretend his words didn’t hurt as much as they touched her. She was safety to him, whether that was a good thing or bad. “Maybe you shouldn’t use me for a crutch. Maybe you should leave me alone.”

  He stalked back toward her and lifted her beneath her arms. Her bad leg buckled and she fell into him, but that didn’t matter because he hauled her against his hard body.

  “Darby.” Her mouth fell open, which seemed to suit him fine. His lips covered hers, hard, punishing, almost desperate. His arms were steel, squeezing her tight, as his hand knotted in her hair, pulling, forcing her head back so she had no choice but to surrender to his kiss.

  And it felt good. Hot flames licked up her body, volatile and wicked. After three seconds of his mouth on hers, his left hand moved to her ass, and she knew she didn’t want him to leave her alone. In fact, she wanted him to lay her down on that half-dead grass and teach her a lesson about challenging a man who didn’t know what the hell he wanted.

  He ripped his mouth from hers. “I want you. I can’t stand knowing you’re sitting at your house away from me where I can’t see you, touch you, taste you. I want you, Renny, when I shouldn’t.”

  Her breath came in short, turned-on puffs, and she couldn’t seem to find any words to combat his admission. So she rose on tiptoe and kissed him again.

  “Oh, hell,” he groaned against her lips before dipping his head so he could turn her awkward peck into a full-fledged hot, wet kiss.

  She slid her hands up to his shoulder, brushing against his short-clipped hair and anchoring his head between her hands, and kissed him with all the pent-up frustration that had been knotting in her belly since the man had shown up.

  Finally he lifted his head and looked down at her for a few seconds before leaning his forehead against hers.

  “I want you, too, Darby, but I refuse to be hurt. Don’t ask more of me than I’m willing to give.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “You can have my body, you can have my friendship, but I won’t give you my heart. Not again, even if it wasn’t your fault. You’re leaving Louisiana, and I’m not.”