by Liz Talley
“So you’ve already said.”
“But not in the way you dress, obviously.”
Well, that sounded disapproving.
Renny glanced at what her mother wore. The silk pants alone would cost a week’s salary and the bright magenta sweater had gold grommets around the neck. She looked like Marilyn Monroe mated with a Greek bazillionaire and had a baby Bev. No, not alike in their fashion choices. At all.
She’d never thought them alike in any other way. Yet, they both seemed to have made poor choices in the romance department. And they both had overcome adversity, molding misery into success. Both of them had vested much of themselves into a career, holding their hearts back for fear of being trampled.
So, maybe her mother was right.
They were alike.
Bev picked up the conversation. “Your father always held that same power over me. He smiled and I melted like chocolate on a summer’s day. Whatever he suggested we do sounded like the best plan ever. I had no will when it came to him, and it left me in a bad place. Now I’m not saying Darby is—”
“He’s not like my father. Darby may have a smile that melts Popsicles in an Arctic storm, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a good man. He’s changed.” In some ways. In others he was still the same. Darby got what he wanted. He’d wanted her and she’d rolled over like a dog in heat.
“Says the girl still in love with him.”
The hurt of the afternoon faded and was replaced by anger. “All of this is your fault, Mother.”
“How? I told you to stay away from him.”
Renny shook her head. “No, years ago. If you wouldn’t have tried to control me, control the world around you—”
“You what? Would have become a successful biologist? Become an independent woman of means? Liked yourself?”
Renny glared at her mother. “You assume I would have been worse off than I am now. What if I were better because of him?”
“I won’t apologize for what I did years ago. I saved you.”
“Saved me? Really?” Renny shook her head. “No, you taught me not to trust a man. A whole life of ‘a man will do you wrong’ played on your stereo until I believed it. You are the reason I didn’t fight for Darby all those years ago. You made me believe he was just like Dad—that he had left me, too.”
Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin Palace Pink line. “You’re placing all the blame on my shoulders just because he didn’t fight for you. Because you didn’t fight for him.”
“We may have worked. We might be two kids into a happy marriage right now.”
“Or hating each other,” Bev said. “Which one is more likely? Sometimes you have to step in to protect people from themselves. I wish I would have had someone to stop me when it came to your father.”
“Aaron proposed, didn’t he?” Renny slammed back against the seat, changing the subject because she knew what her mother had to say about her father. Second verse same as the first. “Did you say yes?”
“I don’t wish to be married.”
“Why? You say you love Aaron. You’re happy when you’re with him. He makes you laugh, he makes you—”
“Because I don’t want to, that’s why,” her mother said, gripping the steering wheel hard, pushing her French-tipped nails into the leather. “And we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
“One and the same according to you. You don’t trust, and you’ve taught me the same. You expect to get shit on, and therefore, I’ve spent my whole life looking up and ducking under eaves.”
“Why are you making this about me?” Bev said, passing a slower car, whipping around with little regard for safety.
“Slow down.”
Her mother shook her head. “This is what you do to me. Make me so mad I can’t function.”
“I’m not trying to make you mad, but you picked me up expecting to rub salt into my wounds, wanting to wag your finger and say I told you so. It’s not what I wanted or needed to hear, but you did it anyway.”
“That was not my intent. I had no intention of berating your actions, so you can just stop painting me as the worst mother to ever breathe the air around her daughter.”
Renny took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. Pain echoed in Bev’s last statement, and the woman was right—this wasn’t about her. Much. It was more about Renny reacting to the hurt she’d been struck with back in Picou’s sitting room. She looked to strike out at someone and her mother was a safe option. Probably why she’d called Bev in the first place. “Fine. It wasn’t your intent, but it didn’t stop you from doing it.”
“It’s just I love you and I can’t stand for you to be hurt.”
“I know.”
“Maybe some of your hang-ups are my fault. I didn’t do very well after your father left, didn’t trust anyone other than myself. That led to success, but I think you’re right—it’s unhealthy to distrust people, to jump to conclusions about every man’s intentions. Look at Aaron. His have always been good.”
Renny nearly leaned over and pinched her mother to make sure the woman was real and not some alien cloaked in Bev Latioles’s clothes. Her mother admitting to being wrong? To being judgmental and untrusting? Was this possible?
“Aaron’s a good man, and he loves you.”
“And he proposed to me.”
“So you said?”
Her mother took a deep breath. “That I’d think about it.”
“That’s actually progress,” Renny said, staring out at the passing scenery.
“And Darby?”
Her mother’s question sat for a full minute like a big, fat elephant in the luxury sedan.
“I’m done with Darby,” Renny said finally.
“Are you?”
“I’ve never had the best judgment when he was around. He’s like the magic man in that Heart song. I don’t seem to have much control when he plies his charm. I had thought things could be different. We’re adults now. But Darby’s not in the place he needs to be...and I’m not sure I want to wait on him to get there. Sometimes love isn’t meant to be.”
Bev nodded. “Sometimes it’s not enough. Wasn’t for me and your father. I loved that man. Hell, if he came back crawling on his knees, I don’t trust myself not to drop to mine and meet him halfway. Some relationships, no matter what the heart wants, aren’t healthy for either person.”
Her mother’s words felt like frigid ice water down Renny’s back. She wanted to disagree. Love was supposed to conquer all. Not suffer under selfish want and need. Not smother under misdirection and misplaced intent.
Renny chewed on those thoughts as the car ate the miles of road winding through the flat wetlands. Finally, her mother pulled into a gas station.
“Will you be okay?” Bev asked as Renny grabbed her bag and opened the car door.
“Guess I’ll have to be, won’t I? Life never has stopped because a gal got her heart broke.”
Bev shook her head. “Baby, if I could stop it—”
“You would. I know. I can always count on you to shoot me straight and pick me up when I take a face plant. That’s what moms are for, right?”
“Something like that,” her mom said, shifting into Park and giving her a slight smile. “Never easy watching your child fall down.”
“I should have looked where I was headed.” Renny sighed and closed the door.
* * *
DARBY WATCHED AS A MAN with a mustache wearing too-tight jeans whirled a laughing Shelby around the dance floor at Mulates, the quintessential standby in Cajun food and fun. His mother and sister sat at the table with him, watching the blonde act like she’d been born to two-step to a Cajun zydeco band. He hadn’t realized Shelby was such a good dancer.
“She’s actually pretty nice,” Picou muttered, raising a pint of dark beer to her lips.
“You sound surprised,” Della said, eyeing Shelby.
“She is. She expected to hate Shelby,” Darby said. They’d already eaten, and afte
r moaning in delight over the red beans and rice, Shelby had declared she wanted to dance. When Darby hadn’t jumped right up and offered, she’d turned to the man at the next table and crooked a finger. That was all it took.
“I did not,” Picou said, shaking her head. “I admit to having reservations about her, but I can be wrong.”
Darby faked a heart attack, giving such a dramatic performance it caused Della to laugh until she snorted tea up her nose.
“See what you did?” His mother gave him the stink eye before thumping Della on the back.
“I’m good,” Della coughed, waving her hands.
“Actually, Shelby reminded me of you,” Darby said, hoisting his own half-filled glass and making a mocking toast. “Charming and bullheaded. Hard to admit being drawn to a woman because she’s like your mother.”
Della snorted again but, thankfully, not her iced tea. Della’s responses must have pleased Picou because she finally smiled. “Nothing wrong with wanting a woman who’s like your mother.”
“Says my mother,” Darby drawled. “Besides, Shelby and I are friends and that’s where we’ll stay. She’s not my choice.”
“Who says you get to choose?” Della asked, scooping a half-eaten hush puppy off the plate in front of her and popping it into her mouth. “Men always think they make the decision. Shelby looks capable of having who she wants. You make her sound like a booby prize.”
Darby eyed his sister. “I’d never treat her that way.”
One of the men at the next table tapped Della on the shoulder, arching a brow and jerking his head toward the dance floor. He wore a Univeristy of Louisiana–Baton Rouge Panthers shirt and Darby inferred the men were traveling to take in a Panthers game in Baton Rouge the next day.
“Sure,” she breathed, looking as if she’d rather not dance, but she rose, leaving Darby with his mother and a table full of half-empty plates.
“I can’t believe how relaxed she is,” his mother said.
“Who? Della or Shelby?”
Picou looped her long hair behind her ears. For once, his mother dressed normally. Well, normal for her—jeans and a simple blouse. “Your sister. I think she’s finally at peace with who she is.”
He watched as Della moved gracefully and competently around the dance floor, giving instruction to the man who obviously hadn’t much experience in dancing. “You may be right.”
“Now, if we could only get you in that same spot,” his mother said. “You belong here. Not in Seattle. But I want you to be happy, Darby.”
“Guess I fell right into your trap, didn’t I?”
“I never set a trap. Didn’t have to. You had things waiting here for you, and now you’re trying to use your head to make a decision that should be made by your heart.”
“I’m trying, Mom, but I wonder if I’m screwing things up. I had a plan, a good plan, to go to Seattle and start a new life. And look at Shelby.” He jabbed a finger at the woman who’d thrown herself into the dancing with a reckless abandon he’d never seen before. “She’s a great woman. I could be tossing the baby out with the bathwater all because I’ve got the hots for a woman who’s now so pissed at me she won’t speak to me.”
“Renny’s got Cajun blood in those veins. Blowing things out of proportion is in her nature, even if she’s a scientist with charts, graphs and logic. She’ll settle down. Give her time.” His mother motioned a waiter over and ordered another pint, then looked at him. “You’ll have to drive tonight.”
“I drove us here, didn’t I?”
“Well, I like to be a responsible citizen...when I can.”
He almost laughed, but the effort seemed too much. Again, he’d been flipped upside down when Shelby had shown up and Renny had blown up. All the steps he’d made toward Renny felt shaky, and since she’d not darkened his doorstep, ready to fight for him, he’d taken to doubting everything he felt.
“I want to tell you something I’ve not told a soul before,” his mother said, accepting the beer from the waiter and moving her chair closer to him.
Darby quirked a brow. “Is it another ghost story?”
“In a way.”
The song ended, but neither Della nor Shelby came back to the table. Perhaps they’d sensed his mother’s wishes. Or maybe his frown kept them on the floor for another riotous stomping of the boards.
His mother didn’t speak for a moment. Instead she seemed to be gathering her thoughts, preparing herself. “When I was a girl, at the end of my freshman year of college, I fell in love.”
“I know the story.”
“It wasn’t with your father.”
He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the scarred table. “Not Dad?”
“No. I went home on semester break with my roommate, Patty Greer, to her family home in Monroe. She was such a fun girl with the prettiest teeth. Of course, her daddy was a dentist so that explained her beautiful smile. So, anyway, she had an older brother, Gerald, who went to school on the East Coast. He was home on break, too, and the moment I saw him, I fell for him. He was not classically handsome like your father, but more of a rough-around-the-edges Humphrey Bogart sort, and for a whole week, we acted like lovesick fools. In fact, poor Patty got put out with me because I spent every waking second with her brother instead of her. She’d planned several outings, but I skipped them all. Ran wild with that boy all over Ouachita Parish. We went skinny-dipping, visited juke joints and drove all the way to Jackson, Mississippi, to see some drag races.”
“This explains a lot, Mom.”
His mother laughed, and in that instant he saw the heart of that eighteen-year-old girl. “Okay, you got your wild streak from me. Your father wouldn’t have been caught dead naked in a fishing hole.”
She took another sip of the beer. “And I loved Gerald. Thought I’d found everything love was supposed to be right in those green eyes. At the end of the week, it came time for me to come back to Beau Soleil for Christmas, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to come home. But my daddy drove up in his new big-fin Caddy and loaded my suitcase in his trunk. I made up a story about leaving something behind and ran around the back of the house to where Gerald sat in his convertible waiting for me to elope with him.”
She paused dramatically.
“But I couldn’t do it.”
For a moment, Picou closed her eyes as if the light in the restaurant was too much for her. But he knew it wasn’t the light, it was the memories that overwhelmed her. Finally, she opened them, and inside he could see the regret and the sheen of tears.
“I wasn’t strong enough to go against my daddy, to leave all I knew behind for Gerald. Just like I wasn’t strong enough to go against your daddy. Not fighting for myself, my wants and needs, is something I’ve hated in myself for a long time. It’s why I have claimed myself these past years since your father died. I’m never going back to being someone who lives to please others and not herself.”
He’d never thought about his mother and the choices she’d faced in life. For some reason, children rarely saw their parents as anything other than the role they’d forced them into the day they drew their first breath.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter now,” his mother said, staring at the bottom of her empty glass. “My life has been very, very good, but I always had this piece of me that regretted not jumping in Gerald’s car and following my heart.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Because I got a little taste of what you’re feeling that day as I stood on a concrete paver on the side of that farmhouse staring at Gerald waiting for me. It was a moment I will never forget. I chose to follow my head, and do what I thought everyone expected of me. To do what was reasonable.”
She moved even closer, taking his hand. “Darby, everyone says you’re most like me, and I guess you are. Whatever direction you go, sweetheart, I’ll stand by you. But I want you to know it’s okay to follow your heart. There are no guarantees in life, but it’s not much fun living wi
th regret.”
He curled his fingers around hers. “So you wish you would have gone with Gerald?”
“If I had gone with him, there would be no Nate, Abram, Della and Darby, so, no. I can’t regret the life I’ve made, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish sometimes I would’ve chosen love over duty. Passion over principle.”
She released his hand, shoved her chair back and tugged him by his elbow. “Enough talk of choices. I want to dance. The good Lord knows I don’t have many more years left to cut a rug, so indulge me.”
“I’m not great at dancing, so—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Darby, you don’t learn how to live by watching. You learn how to live by doing. Let’s go.”
So he did, wondering how his mother always knew how to unstick him. Her words were like aloe vera on a burn—soothing and certain to bring relief. He needed to spend time analyzing his mother’s words, but not now. Sometimes life called for doing—even if a guy may end up looking a fool.
Which he most certainly would on the dance floor of Mulates.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RENNY STARED AT THE TRACKING band in her hand.
Damn it all to hell.
L9-10 was off the radar. Carrie had called her that morning and insisted she head out to Beau Soleil and check on the whooper. L9-10 had been stationary for over twenty-four hours—which wasn’t good. Renny had planned on calling in sick because sappy movies and macaroni and cheese sounded like balm for her heart, but as the project manager she had no choice but to hitch up her pants, slide into her rubber galoshes and head to the battlefield.
She pocketed the expensive tracking device and looked for evidence of a struggle. She didn’t see any scattered feathers lying snowy against the dank grass, so she started around the perimeter of the area, resigned to taking the time necessary to find the bird.
Was Picou still feeding the crane?
If so, the older woman could give her the particulars on when she’d last seen the bird, but Renny could think of nothing worse than going to Beau Soleil and seeking out Picou.
“Renny?”
Darby’s voice jarred her from her deep thoughts and brought her back to full-fledged heartbreak.