The Road to Bayou Bridge

by Liz Talley

  She spun and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.”

  “No, you don’t. Your mother does.”

  He looked big, gorgeous and determined. Her heart stutter-stepped, but she pulled her anger back into place. No longer would she take any chances on this man. Her mother had been right. Sometimes even love wasn’t enough. And deep in her bones, Renny knew Darby didn’t love her enough to make it work between them. Somehow, that had sunk into her consciousness and settled in, ready to battle her if she thought differently. Probably a defense mechanism or some weakness in her inner psyche.

  She wanted to believe differently, but... She wasn’t going to rehash her insecurities or her broken heart. She had work to do. And she needed Darby out of her world.

  “Technicality,” he said, slogging toward her in his own pair of waders. “But this is my land.”

  She didn’t say anything further, merely watched as he approached.

  “Why are you out here so early?” he asked, looking around.

  “It’s department business and doesn’t concern the landowner.” She turned away, scanning the area because she felt unsure. Maybe slightly unsafe. Darby’s charming, good ol’ boy demeanor had been replaced by the hard-nosed navy lawyer, and he looked plenty peeved. Gone was the smile, the flirty eyes, the rolling gait. In place was the hardened jaw, flinty eyes and erect posture. Here was a man who wasn’t taking crap from anyone, much less her.

  “Actually you here in this field does concern me.”

  “Fine. If you must know, the whooping crane’s tracking device came off, so now we can’t locate it. Hasn’t happened on this project yet and we were hoping to keep tabs on the birds for longer than a few months. We need the data so that we can get more funding and bring more birds down to winter.”

  “You think it left the area?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure. Could have met with a predator. In fact, I was combing the area looking for evidence of an attack.”

  “I’ll help.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not your concern.”

  “Everything about you is my concern. Legally, you’re still my wife.”

  “Technicality,” she said, echoing his words and not liking the possessive tone he’d taken.

  He nodded. “But that’s your decision, not mine.”

  Something twisted in her stomach. “Yeah, it is my decision. One that had to be made. I tired of pussyfooting around looking for a good place to land.”

  “Why are you doing this to us, Renny?”

  Doing what? Protecting herself? Trying to gain back some measure of control over her life? How was it wrong to resist throwing all she was away just on a hunch? “I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t have done in my same position, Darby.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “You have choices. You have options, options that you kept open, I might add. It was very simple for you to suggest rolling the dice on a relationship between us because if you got hurt or decided things weren’t working, you’d be on the next flight out of Bayou Bridge. Clean slate, remember? You had a job, a wife and a new life all lined up waiting on you. But me? I’d still be here. Nothing new and wonderful for me.”

  “So you storm off and end all hope of us because you’re chicken? Because you think I could cut my losses here and pick up with Shelby without a beat? That’s what you truly think of me?”

  She needed a moment to think about that accusation. He made her sound flighty and foolish for wanting to play it safe. “You’re making it sound like I’m afraid, and I am. Last time you left me behind, it hurt, and I’ve been protecting myself ever since. It may be wrong—”

  “Yeah, it is. The Renny I knew wouldn’t hide behind past mistakes. She embraced life and lived it without reservations. You’re right in saying that you’ve changed. And frankly, I don’t much like the woman you’ve become.”

  “Good. Then leave me alone.”

  “Doesn’t work like that, Renny. I’m not running from you. I’m not letting you fade back into some shadow of yourself because you might fall down and get a boo-boo.” He moved toward her, crowding her space, forcing her to look up at him. “I love you too much to just give up on you.”

  Her heart sounded in her ears and she knew that if this were a movie, this was the moment she surrendered to Darby, giving herself to him, claiming their happy ever after.

  But this wasn’t a Lifetime Original movie.

  And she wasn’t going to fall into his arms just because he’d made up his mind to love her.

  He stared at her, awaiting her answer. She stepped back from him, giving herself some space, realizing at that moment space had been what she’d been lacking all along.

  “Are you going to say anything?” he asked.

  She held up a hand and closed her eyes. “Part of me wants to jump into your arms and tell you I love you too.”

  Darby stretched his arms out and arched an eyebrow. For a moment, she almost smiled. He looked so good, freshly shaven, so solid, so delicious. But she shrugged that inclination off and shook her head. “Part of me does, but the other part needs some time.”

  “Time?”

  “You came back into my life the way you first entered it—blazing across a field, cocky and confident about what you want. You use your charm like a weapon, disarming anyone in your path. And then you push. You push and push and push past any barriers anyone throws up against you.”

  “You make me sound like the Nazis. Blitzkrieg.” His words were dry. Sarcastic.

  Renny shrugged. “Not evil, just determined. You don’t take no for an answer, and that’s how it’s always been between us. You don’t ask, you do, cajoling and applying pressure until I roll over and give in.”

  “But you benefit when you roll over and give in to me. You can’t pretend you don’t derive pleasure from—” His words sounded silky.

  “Really? We’re in the middle of a bog and your girlfriend is less than a mile that way.” She pointed toward Beau Soleil.

  He blinked. “Sorry. She’s not my girlfriend. Besides, she flew out this morning. And there’s always fire between us no matter where we are.”

  She pressed her lips together and gave him her own eyebrow arch. “Sure. We’re tip-top full-on passion, but here’s the deal, you don’t get to decide. I do.”

  “Decide what?”

  “Decide whether or not we go forward. You want me? Great. You love me? Spectacular. But maybe I don’t want you.”

  For a moment his sharky-attorney facade cracked, but he pulled it right back in place. “So you don’t want me? You don’t feel anything toward me but what, pity?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Do I love you? Probably. I don’t think I ever stopped, but the chief question that’s been floating around since I climbed into your pickup truck twelve years ago—are you good for me?”

  He opened his mouth just as she jabbed a finger at him. He closed it.

  “I decide.”

  “You decide,” he stated, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. She realized not many people ever told Darby Dufrene no. He probably didn’t understand the concept, but at that moment she wanted him to give her space and not force a decision about their future.

  “And honestly, the way I feel right now, you should forget about good ol’ comfy pants Renny Latioles. I don’t want to be your consolation prize or your safety net. I don’t want to be your faithful companion who will heel when you tell her to heel, or fetch when you tell her to fetch or sit—” Renny sighed. “That’s it. Done. You can go now and stop bulldozing yourself into my life like you know what’s best for me. Because you don’t.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I mean. For once in my life, Darby, let me decide who I will love without coercion. Without using those damn blue eyes and your sneaky sexy smile to color my judgment.”

  “God, Renny.” He stepped back with his hands turned out. No longer d
id he have that hard lawyerly look. He looked like she’d conked him in the head with a crowbar. Like he’d never imagined Renny Latioles would tell him no.

  “Right now I can’t have you in my life. Not until I’m sure of a few things, and one of those things is who I need to be. Two people in a relationship should be equals. I’ve never had that with you because you never let me choose you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. We’ve always been good together. We’ve—”

  “But always on your terms. You made all the decisions. You chose me, like you graced me with good fortune. And for the past week, it’s felt the same. You strung me along all week, pushing past my armor, worming your way back into my heart, and then a girlfriend shows up. I felt like I was on The Bachelor. I thought maybe Picou had a hot tub installed out back.”

  “You make me sound dastardly for falling back in love with you. Like I did it to complicate your life. I didn’t want to love you again.”

  Renny closed her eyes. A full ten seconds ticked by before she opened her eyes and took him in again. “Right now, I can’t choose you, Darby. You have to give me room to breathe. Room to make decisions about what is right for me. It may sound foolish to you, but that’s where I am. If we enter a relationship, it’s going to be that fresh, clean slate you wanted—a new start between two adults who choose each other. Not some polluted dirty-laundry relationship where you run roughshod over me. You may choose me, Darby, but I’m not choosing you. Not now.”

  He looked shell-shocked. “I don’t get it.”

  “Well, give yourself time to think about it. Maybe with some distance and some intentional thought, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “So this is it? You’re telling me to get lost?”

  “Maybe getting lost is not a bad thing. Maybe you don’t have to hop on a road, determined to walk it no matter the consequences. Perhaps you should let go and just be.”

  Darby propped his hands on his hips and glanced at the world breathing around him. Birds swooped and squirrels scrabbled up and down the bark of the trees behind him. Life went on even if she’d released him back into the wide world—hopefully with a different outlook on their relationship, or lack of one at the moment. “Guess there’s not much left to say, Renny, other than I wish you luck in finding the whooping crane.” His blue eyes were so sad that her heart wavered, but she smacked it back in line. She had to get herself straight, examine her priorities and make the best choice for her life, which meant she needed Darby to leave.

  At least for a little while.

  They both needed space.

  She was sure her brown eyes mirrored his. “Me, too.”

  And then Darby walked out of her life again—a week after he’d walked back into it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  One month later

  DARBY WATCHED THE STREETCAR toodle by from the window of the bar on St. Charles Street as he took another sip of scotch and soda. Didn’t really taste good, but he figured he needed nerves of steel for what he was about to face.

  Just as he’d done nearly eleven years ago this upcoming spring, he’d placed his future in Renny’s hands. Just like she wanted.

  Last time he hadn’t fared so well. He’d waited for over three hours before allowing hope to slip away on a rare breeze blowing through the heart of the French Quarter. He’d walked down Decatur, ignoring the people calling out for him to come in for fluorescent shots of potent crap and the titillating beads and shirts hanging in the shop windows. He’d passed by the French Market with its piles of Creole tomatoes and shiny silver bracelets and walked until he was in a rough neighborhood. He’d turned around, walked back to the Quarter, strolled into a random bar and drank until he’d puked in a back alley. No, it had not ended well.

  And he had no clue if this go-around would be much better.

  But he’d had to try.

  He’d left it up to her.

  When he’d walked away from her that warm September day, he felt like someone had pulled a rug out from under him and left him on his ass.

  Renny had told him to get lost.

  Take a hike.

  Sent him packing.

  And don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out, buster.

  It had seemed inconceivable she didn’t want him. She loved him. He could see it in her eyes; in fact, she’d said as much herself. But then she’d also implied he wasn’t good for her, another tidbit he couldn’t wrap his mind around.

  Pissed him off well and good.

  He’d spent much of the weekend faking happiness, then on Sunday, he’d climbed into his little rental car, cranked up the volume on some random metal music, and done his damnedest to slake his anger on the looping curves and straightaways of the Louisiana back roads. He hadn’t driven that fast since the wreck, but he didn’t care. Fury burned inside him.

  How dare she?

  He’d finally thought he’d found his way in life then Renny nailed up a Bridge Out Ahead sign and blew up the damn road in front of him.

  She would decide?

  Not we?

  Anger lashed him and he muttered all sorts of dirty words about women, Louisiana and his own dumbassery for coming home.

  When the anger faded, the pain began.

  Something tore inside him, rattling around his chest, out of control. Maybe that something was also armed with razor blades, because his heart felt sliced to ribbons. If he coughed, he might have spit out blood. That’s what it felt like. After a near miss with a speed limit sign, Darby had pulled the car over, banged his head on the steering wheel and pretended the moistness on his face was sweat from the abnormally hot day.

  God damn it all. It hurt. Again.

  Renny had torn him to shreds.

  And he hadn’t seen it coming.

  Because he’d never intended to fall back in love with her.

  Once he’d driven back to Beau Soleil, he’d calmed down and entered some sort of acceptance phase. Fine. He’d go to Seattle. It was a big town and even if he had no future with Shelby, there were other women. Other women who weren’t complicated and wanted some simplicity in a relationship. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t bother with a woman for a while. He had a career to launch. Just like before, he would throw himself into work and allow time to heal his wounds.

  But as he’d climbed the front porch of the place where he’d grown into an almost man, greeted by his smiling sister and one of Picou’s famous pralines—the best thing his mom made in the kitchen—he realized he didn’t want to leave Louisiana.

  Renny had dumped him, but with reluctance. In fact, it seemed as if she’d pushed him away because she thought it was the right thing to do—not because she’d rejected him.

  So he’d sunk into the rocker beside his sister with a big sigh.

  “Well, that says a lot,” Della said, drawing her long legs up and clasping them with her bare arms.

  “Yeah, sums up my life for the last week.”

  “Never easy coming home, is it?”

  He watched the wind catch the leaves on the oak trees sprawling lazily in front of the house, bordering the broad expanse of still green grass. “You would know.”

  “Abram and Lou left earlier. Abram wants you to call him about whatever y’all talked about. He said you’d know. I, for one, didn’t bother asking. Our mother, however, pinned Abram down like a linebacker and dropped water on his forehead for a whole hour.”

  Darby managed a smile but said nothing.

  “Don’t worry. He didn’t cave. So whatever he’s cooking up for you is still a mysterious secret.” Della stretched her hands out and wiggled her fingers.

  “It’s about a job in Baton Rouge. He has a lot of connections in that area, so I thought I’d look around for a firm that might need an attorney specializing in International law.”

  “Wow, so when Shelby left, she really left.” She pushed her hair back. “You’re not moving to Seattle?”

  “I don’t think so. I thought I’d be happy the
re, and who knows, maybe I would have, but I don’t think it’s the place for me. Coming home made me realize that.”

  “So you’re going to live here? In Bayou Bridge.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know yet, but I want to be closer than Washington State. What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Are you staying in Galliano?”

  She stared out at the yard, popped another praline in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I love my little town and the school where I teach, but one of Grandmère’s greatest wishes for me was I explore the world and not relegate myself to, as she put it, ‘this backwater hellhole.’ Enola started fishing when she was twelve years old, had her first baby at sixteen, and never saw beyond Lafayette. I think she only went to New Orleans once. Wanderlust was hidden beneath that tough bayou skin.”

  “So you want to travel?”

  “Did you like living abroad?”

  He shrugged. “In a way. I’ve never been one much for dragging a suitcase behind me. I’ve lived on the East Coast and overseas. Guess I got my fill—it’s the main reason I left the navy. I wanted to put down roots somewhere.”

  “I talked to Shelby and she gave me some info on the teacher program she was part of. I may do some checking around on that, but I have time. I’ll stay in Galliano to finish out the year. I still have loose ends to tie up with the Cheramie homestead. Grandmère willed it to me, and somehow that doesn’t seem right. I have uncles and cousins who are blood relation who didn’t get squat from Enola. Of course, some of them don’t deserve squat. Just many decisions to make.”

  “But you will stay part of this family?”

  “I changed my driver’s license to my legal name.”

  He jerked his eyes toward her. “Big step.”

  “But it’s time. I’m not Sally Cheramie. She was my great-aunt, a baby Enola lost when Sally was but a year old. She gave me her daughter’s name and social security number, but she couldn’t make me the daughter she’d lost because I already had a mama. I was already Della Dufrene, even when I didn’t want to be.”