The Road to Bayou Bridge

by Liz Talley

  “You asshole,” she hissed. “You have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said, sidestepping her because she looked as if she might actually punch him.

  She turned and placed a steadying hand on the porch rail. “How could you?”

  “What?”

  “Hedge your bets like that. What kind of man does that?”

  “Now wait a minute. I haven’t been—”

  “No.” Renny whirled, eyes crackling, fists curled. “You said there wasn’t anyone, but it’s very obvious there is.”

  “I should have—”

  “Yeah, you should have, you two-timing snake.”

  He grabbed her elbow. “I’m not two-timing. Shelby and I weren’t exclusive.”

  She wrenched her elbow away from him and pushed him back. “Not exclusive? Not exclusive! Who are you?”

  He damn sure didn’t have an answer for that one. He’d been trying to figure that out ever since he’d seen Renny again. But he’d not been dishonest with her. In true Renny fashion, she overreacted.

  She advanced on him. “Don’t you dare tell me she doesn’t think you’re exclusive. No woman flies thousands of miles just to be a friend to a man.”

  “You’re not listening.”

  “Because I don’t want to hear your dumbass excuses.”

  “I think you need to calm down, Renny. This is not what it looks like. I never asked Shelby to come here, and I never lied to you.”

  Renny took a deep breath that bordered on a sob, before pressing a fist to her stomach. “You made me believe you were considering staying in Louisiana—for me.”

  “I was. I am.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. If that were true, Shelby wouldn’t be sitting in your mother’s house eating Lucille’s chocolate cake talking about how much you connected and about how funny it will be when you drive your motorcycle in the Seattle rain.”

  “Why won’t you let me say anything in my defense?”

  Renny shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Because I’m not stupid. You hedged your bets like my feelings didn’t matter—like her feelings don’t matter.” She whirled, scooped up the bag and started down the steps, her limp somehow more pronounced, or perhaps it seemed so because he knew he’d hurt her once again. “I don’t know you anymore, and that’s the problem. I relied on a memory of a boy. And you’ve grown into a man—a man who thinks it’s okay to play with women’s emotions.”

  “Wait, Renny.” He followed her. “That’s not fair. This whole last week has turned me upside down. I never expected to feel the way I do. You’re acting like I planned this, and that’s about as far from the truth as you can get.”

  She held up a hand. “I don’t have time for this. Never should have let you talk me into...into...anything I did with you.”

  “Talk you into it? I’m fairly sure you participated fully in everything we did together. I didn’t force you, Renny.”

  “No, but you pushed and pushed until I rolled over. Every time I opened the door, you were there, smiling at me, charming my socks and other unmentionables off. You’re just like your mother, you lean on people until you get what you want—or maybe manipulate is the better word.”

  He dropped the hands he’d been holding up to her. That’s what she thought? He’d forced his way back into her life? “I never tried to manipulate you, and I was always honest about my feelings.”

  “Sure. You’re confused, so you use me as your crutch, as an excuse to forget about life for a while. Picnics, fishing and takeout. I’m nothing but a holiday to you. A little mini high school reunion. A—”

  He grabbed her arm and jerked her. “Shut up and listen.”

  “Don’t—”

  “I said shut up,” he growled, anger crashing onto him. His life had been bordering on chaos for the past week and now it was full-fledged out of control. He wanted to punch something. Run until he fell over in exhaustion. Scream his frustration into the wind.

  She closed her mouth and stared at him. For a moment, neither one of them spoke.

  “Take a deep breath. You know me and you know what happened in there is not what you’re making it out to be.”

  “I don’t know anything anymore.” Renny pulled from his grasp, opened the folder and pulled the papers from the depths. Then she rifled through the bag holding her camera and withdrew a pen, clicking it and flipping up the pages until she found the signature line.

  He sank against the back door, trying to still the frustration churning within. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Renny. All I have to do is have a little talk with Shelby and all will be taken care of.”

  She scrawled her signature onto the papers and slapped them on his chest. “Find a witness and file the papers.”

  “Ren—”

  “No. I shouldn’t have allowed all those old feelings to spill back into my life. I knew things wouldn’t work between us.”

  “Ren.”

  “We were never meant to be, Darby. That’s the truth here. Never meant to be.”

  He clasped the papers to his chest, feeling like she’d punched him in the solar plexus. “We’ll talk after you calm down. You’ll see this was a big mistake.”

  “No, I don’t want to talk anymore.” She looked around and grimaced. “Damn it. I still have to get those freakin’ pictures.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her they had something between them worth exploring, worth fighting for, something very real, but he knew it would be a waste of air. Renny was too hurt to listen. She needed to calm down. Besides he had cleanup to do inside with Shelby and his mother.

  Shit. Things were a mess.

  And he didn’t know if all the king’s horsemen and all the king’s men could put together what had just fallen apart. Hell, he didn’t even know a king to call. Or horsemen. Or why he thought in nursery rhymes when his world crumbled around him.

  “Go back to Shelby. Go to Seattle. And forget about me.” Renny turned and started walking toward the woods that led to the abandoned rice field.

  “You don’t mean that,” he called after her.

  Her answer wasn’t verbal, but he got the message. The middle finger was universal.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, giving it a hard tug before exhaling the weight of his problems into the Louisiana humidity. Renny disappeared into the foliage just as Shelby appeared on the porch.

  Right.

  No rest for the dumbassed.

  He had another woman to deal with, and then after that, his mother would peck at him like a mockingbird after a tomcat. Then Della would come. And maybe more women wanting to rip the flesh from his bones.

  He climbed the steps, divorce papers in hand, and faced Shelby.

  Her blue eyes were a tangle of emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married? That message would have been loud and clear, Darby, and I wouldn’t have come.”

  He climbed the steps and shook his head. “I really don’t have an answer to that, Shelby.”

  Crossing her arms, she eyed him with an expression he couldn’t read. “I feel like a fool.”

  “Join the crowd.”

  “That’s comfort,” she said, her words no longer soft, no longer Shelby-like.

  “Well, it’s all I got at the moment.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RENNY STALKED THROUGH the woods with reckless disregard for her footfalls and ended up with a bone-jarring slip that left her leg in torturous pain and the top of her head feeling as if it could explode.

  “Shit.” She dragged herself a few yards and sank down on a stump covered with lichen and bright green moss, clasping her leg and trying not to cry out, but it hurt like a mother.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she said, leaning forward, begging the pain to abate. Tears already swimming in her eyes threatened to spill over, but she brushed them angrily away.

  She wouldn’t cry. About her leg. About Darby. About what a fool she’d been to hope for something that couldn’t be.

  He had a girl
friend?

  Talk about not seeing that sucker punch coming. One minute possibility skipped around her and Darby, the next she’d taken a header down concrete stairs.

  She closed her eyes as something worse than the pain in her leg slammed her.

  Sheer utter desolation.

  And the tears fell as her heart tore in two. God damn, Darby Dufrene. He had made her believe in love again even though she’d tried to shut the door against him. She hadn’t been strong enough to resist the delicious assault the man had waged on her senses. The love for him she’d buried so long ago had burst through the scars, bubbling over with sweet temptation, sweet pleasure, bitter hope.

  And he’d made her love him again.

  She opened her eyes and focused on a scarred tree lying twisted against another. Like her—damaged and twisted. All because Darby was a liar.

  Okay, he’d told her about Shelby, but he’d said they were over. If he’d been serious about staying in Bayou Bridge, serious about wanting her, that woman wouldn’t have been standing in Beau Soleil acting like she’d already picked out their wedding china. Renny hadn’t meant to spill the beans about being married to Darby, but something inside her, some devil, fought past common sense.

  The only comfort Renny could take was the utter shock on Shelby’s face.

  A sob rose in her throat but she choked it down.

  Darby wasn’t worth it.

  At that moment she hated him as much as she loved him.

  Which was intensely.

  Finally, after she’d sat through her pity party long enough, she wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and stood. Her leg hurt like a son of a bitch, but she managed to walk toward the area where the bird who’d started all this in the first place foraged through Beau Soleil land.

  If it hadn’t been for L9-10, she wouldn’t have seen Darby.

  But that wasn’t true.

  He would have found her if only because he needed a divorce. Well, that was done. She’d waived her right to be served and the petition would be filed. She wouldn’t have to see Darby again. She could move on.

  She crashed through the foliage and emerged in the clearing before remembering she hadn’t brought her costume.

  Great.

  That’s exactly why she didn’t want drama in her life. Not now. Not when countless government agencies were depending on her to keep a clear mind and elevate the survival of the whooping crane above silly things like bass fishing, eating bourbon pecan pie or having amazing sex. More important things hung over her, so there was no time to be distracted or wallow in pity for her poor choices over the past couple of days.

  Still, she couldn’t do her work without the costume, not unless she wanted to spook the crane. But then again, maybe it was time for the bird to move on and seek another habitat—so Renny didn’t have to come back to Beau Soleil. Maybe it was a godsend she didn’t have the white draping and hat.

  Renny stepped out, pulled the camera from the bag hanging at her side and scanned the area. The crane wasn’t in sight. But that was fine. She didn’t need to see the bird to get what she needed. A few clicks later, she had covered the habitat, documenting the area visually so she could add the photos to the reports citing the water levels, vegetation and pH levels.

  She dumped the camera into the bag and started back, not even setting an eye on the bird who stalked Dufrene land, crunching through the underbrush of the woods, seeking the trail that would take her back to Beau Soleil, back toward the man who she could cheerfully strangle, his overbearing mother and the girl who’d flown across the country to claim him.

  As she pushed through a tangled knot of withering vines, a flash of color caught her eye. Renny pulled back camouflaged netting and spied the plastic storage container Picou had had with her in the cart a few days ago. It had been hidden well, but the vine Renny had yanked had jerked off part of the netting.

  Her heart was broken, but her mind still worked.

  So why was Picou hiding something out in the woods?

  Renny knew she wasn’t to interfere in a property owner’s affairs not relating to the species being observed, but something niggled in Renny’s mind and before she could think any better of it, she stomped over to the container and popped the lid off.

  Inside lay a white sheet and a puppet—the kind used by wildlife biologists to feed the cranes when they were young. Beside the puppet lay a homemade version of her own headgear and an empty bag of grapes, the withered brown stems stark evidence of an old woman’s meddling.

  Insult to injury. Anger flooded her.

  How dare Picou Dufrene screw with Renny’s mission.

  Darby’s mother was the reason L9-10 wouldn’t leave Beau Soleil. The old bat was feeding the bird a most favored treat—grapes—in effort to keep it on the land. Picou jeopardized an entire project because she believed in some hocus-pocus hoo-ha about a “great bird.” And she’d gone to a lot of trouble, obviously learning about the cranes, how they were raised, fed and approached by biologists.

  Renny should go to Beau Soleil and demand answers. After all, Picou had virtually sabotaged Renny’s work. But the thought of charging up the steps on her aching leg and facing Darby with his sophisticated blonde girlfriend made vomit rise in her throat. She’d deal with Picou later. Maybe she’d send agents to her door and arrest her for...something.

  Renny closed the box, not bothering to disturb the contents any more than needed. It was evidence to be used against the woman—if Renny wanted to prosecute her.

  If she could.

  Jeez, wasn’t life grand? Peachy keen? A bowl of cherries and every other stupid cheerful euphemism for happiness?

  She wanted out of there.

  It took longer than normal to get back to the plantation house, mostly because her leg throbbed. She emerged off the path into the gravel driveway and was nearly mowed down by a late-model navy Lincoln Continental.

  “Hey.” Lucille’s voice penetrated the fog of self-loathing that swirled around her. “What you still doing out here?”

  She lifted the camera bag. “My job.”

  Lucille studied her for a full minute. Renny really wanted to be alone, but it felt rude to tell the woman who’d baked her lemon cookies to get lost.

  “You ought not get too far down the road, baby. Outta sight is outta mind,” Lucille said, jabbing her finger at her.

  “I gather you’re talking about more than walking over to my car?”

  “You gather right.”

  “No offense, Ms. Lucille, but what you’re talking about can’t happen because Darby and I are water under the bridge. Darby doesn’t know what he wants in life, and I don’t feel like being a casualty of his confusion. I’ve been there and done that ten years ago.”

  “Mmm-mmm-mmm.” Lucille tsked, shaking her head. “I guess I never saw you as someone who’d just give up.”

  “Give up what? There’s nothing to give up. Darby has a plan and it doesn’t include Louisiana or me. The sooner everyone accepts that, the easier it will be.”

  “You’ve changed, but I’m still betting on the girl who used to climb that tree outside that window just so she could spend an extra hour with her boyfriend. You was a determined child, and you loved that boy.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  Lucille smiled and lifted her eyebrows. “Well, as they say the heart don’t lie.”

  “I thought it was the hips,” Renny quipped, starting toward her car.

  Lucille’s car crept right beside her. “They don’t lie either, and my old eyes might be failing me in reading the good book, but they ain’t missed what I seen when you two first come in the house today. Like peas and carrots again. That’s what I do know.”

  “I hate peas and carrots,” Renny responded, kicking a stone into the brush.

  Lucille’s cackle was the last thing she heard as the Dufrene housekeeper drove away with a wave.

  “Nosy old woman.”

  Renny climbed into her car, stashed her
camera and made like a cockroach when the lights came on. She ran for her hidey-hole, speeding down the road festooned with golden patterns of soft sunlight.

  On the surface, it was a calm fall day.

  But inside, Renny’s heart ached, her stomach knotted and her brain juggled all the happenings of the day.

  “Things really can’t get any worse,” she said out loud as she turned onto the highway and headed toward her house. And that’s when her car died.

  “What the hell?” She steered to the shoulder of highway. The car came to a halt in a lonely stretch on the highway as her gaze landed on the gas gauge.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she screamed at the big E her needle had dipped past. The irony didn’t escape her. After watching Shelby slobber all over Darby, eating pie that should have been golden but tasted like cardboard and signing the waiver for her divorce, she’d flippin’ run out of gas.

  Yeah, she knew what rock bottom felt like.

  Renny leaned her head against the steering wheel and refused to lose it again.

  Instead she picked up her phone and dialed the one person she knew she could count on—even if it meant hearing I told you so.

  Yep. Rock frickin’ bottom.

  * * *

  “SO I CALLED THE AIRPORT and can’t get a flight out until Friday evening,” Shelby said as she passed the hot water corn bread to his mother without taking any. Darby knew Shelby was very particular about her food, electing to eat mostly organic with very little red meat. When Lucille had gotten back from town with groceries, she’d fried deer steak, pairing it with rice and gravy and purple hull peas cooked in salted pork. It was very Southern and a gift from the housekeeper who’d known his favorite foods since he’d first gnawed on a teething biscuit.

  “You’re welcome to stay with us until then. No need to keep your room at the bed-and-breakfast,” Picou said, setting the platter in the center of the table.

  “Actually, I’d be more comfortable staying in town, though I do appreciate the invitation to dinner.” Shelby set her fork down and straightened the napkin in her lap.

  He knew she was uncomfortable, but didn’t know how to make her feel any better about the situation. Even after their earlier conversation, things felt strained and he doubted it would ever be any better.