“I’ll be there for you,” Jilly told him. “I can’t forget the way I behaved with you. I’m not even sure why I did it, except maybe I wanted to shock you out of being angry with me for no reason.”
“Like I’ve said, I have trouble with feelings. I was angry at myself, not you. And you don’t have to forget we made love—I’m not going to. Kissing you was a high, too. I can’t promise I won’t do that again.” He couldn’t promise anything and he wouldn’t tell her he wanted to make love to her again—now. “Could we have breakfast in the morning?”
“I work,” she said, wishing she could pretend he’d meant breakfast after they woke up together in the morning.
“So do I. Early.” He didn’t look forward to Homer’s wrath, or his suggestions that Guy intended to sneak off. If Homer fired him, he wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he’d better not laugh if he didn’t actually want to look for work. “I could stop by while y’all are bakin’. Coffee and the first two sweet rolls out of the oven sound good to me.”
This time she grinned. “With Joe away, Cyrus runs on his own, and now he heads right over for the first marzipan tart of the day so you’d better not be late. Why Cyrus is all muscle, I’ll never figure out. He has some sweet tooth.”
“If necessary, you and I will eat in the kitchen,” Guy said. He would have gone on, but Jilly’s phone rang and she picked up.
“Yes, Laura,” she said.
In seconds she was on her feet. “Of course. I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “I’ve got to get dressed and get to Edwards Place. Something’s happened.”
Guy got up, too. “What is it?”
She paused in the act of speeding from the room. “It’s Edith. She’s been seriously injured. They brought medical personnel in by helicopter and Laura said Edith’s going to make it. But she’s very weak and she’s asking to see me.”
“Injured how?”
“Don’t slow me down. She got cut by something and lost a lot of blood.”
8
“Come in,” Mr. Preston said, turning away as soon as he saw Jilly on the doorstep. “I could have lost her, it was that close.”
In her peripheral vision, Jilly saw Guy enter Edwards Place behind her and shut the massive front door. He’d insisted on coming with her, and even if she’d wanted to refuse, she didn’t have a car to get there on her own.
She was glad he was there.
“Laura’s in the salon. Wait with her until the doctors say Edith can have company.”
“What happened?” Jilly asked.
Preston stood still, although she felt his need to keep moving. He covered his face and held out an arm to her. “It was a stupid thing,” he said, clamping Jilly to his side when she reluctantly went to him. “She was shaving her legs and managed to cut herself really badly. If she hadn’t been found fast, she wouldn’t be with us.”
Guy sized up the other man, who had made no attempt to acknowledge him. “Good evening, Mr. Preston,” he said. He hated the way the man pressed Jilly against him. “I’m Jilly’s friend, Guy. I drove her over.”
Preston lifted his head and his gray-streaked dark hair shone. He was solid, maybe an inch under six foot, and although he had to be in his late fifties, his palpable vitality, his powerful aura, made him seem ten years younger. It didn’t hurt that his suit had been tailored to show off a hard body, or that he had the face of a man made to be on a screen.
“Who the hell are you?” he said, continuing to hold Jilly. He moved his arm down and rested his hand at her waist. The green shirt she’d changed into rode up from low-rise white pants and Preston’s fingers splayed on her bare skin.
“As I told you, I’m Jilly’s friend. Her car’s in the shop so I drove her here.” He extended a hand. “Guy Gautreaux.” And I don’t want you or any man touching her like that—unless it’s me.
“Nice of you,” Preston said, ignoring Guy’s hand. His face showed little emotion, but his eyes made up for that. Mr. Preston didn’t want a friend of Jilly’s around—particularly a male friend. “Would you mind seeing yourself out?”
Guy was still holding back the first words to his lips and deciding the safest thing to say when Jilly cut in. “Guy, I’d prefer you to wait for me,” she said. “Would that be okay?”
When she looked at him like that, with a certain intimate confidence, he wanted to get her away, alone. “You’ve got it,” he told her.
“You’ll want to stay here with your mother tonight,” Preston said, and he brushed his jaw against Jilly’s hair. “She needs you.”
Manipulative bastard.
“I don’t want you to worry, mind,” Preston said. “I won’t let anything happen to any of my family.”
Guy couldn’t take it. “Jilly, if you want me to wait, I will. Otherwise just call when you’re ready.” If he had to watch Preston maul her much longer, he might lose it and punch the guy.
“If you can stay, I’d like it,” Jilly said. “I do need to be at the shop early.”
The woman with the explosion of red hair, the one who had turned up at the accident scene that afternoon, came into the marble-tiled hall. She leaned a shoulder against a wall and held her hands together in front of her. Once more he caught the flash of large diamonds on her fingers.
She said, “Come and sit with me,” with her violet eyes on Guy’s face. “This has been a terrible night. I’m all wrung out. Jilly, I wanted to call you earlier but Daddy wouldn’t hear of it till Edith was more stable.”
Laura wore gray sweats with pink stripes in various places. He’d bet there was a fancy workout room somewhere in the house, where the lady paid homage to her body.
Jilly wanted away from Preston. He kept his cologne light but it still sickened her. She also wished Laura weren’t turning her charm on Guy—and that he wouldn’t look her over with more than a spark of interest.
She patted a lapel on Preston’s silver-gray suit jacket and moved smoothly away from him. “Thank you for taking such good care of Edith,” she said. “Can’t I go up now?”
He let out a slow breath. “Better wait till they say it’s okay. She’s had a transfusion.”
So why isn’t the lady in a hospital? Guy thought. With a chopper on the pad in the grounds, how hard could it be to take her in where she could get any care she might need.
Preston went to Jilly again. He looked deep into her eyes and rubbed circles over her back. The man was grooming her, Guy thought, appalled. And Preston had complete confidence in himself—he thought his efforts were too subtle to be noticed.
At last the man walked toward an ornate, gilt-trimmed staircase but turned yet again to draw Jilly into his arms. He hugged her, rocked her. “You’ll learn to trust me,” he said. “Just like your mother did. She was so much like you are now when we met—beautiful enough to turn my knees to water.” He released Jilly and laughed. He laughed while he ran upstairs with the springy step of an athlete.
“He’s such a sweetie,” Laura said. “Let’s have a drink.”
She led them back the way she’d come, past ivory flocked walls heavy with paintings and lined with marble busts on plinths. Deep-piled celery-green carpet in the hall covered the floor until they reached what Preston had called “the salon.” Guy guessed that was code for “fancy room.” He’d been in plenty of those along the way and they had all been more welcoming than this crystal palace of Preston’s.
“Sit down,” Laura said, assuming the lady-of-the-manor role.
Jilly watched Guy while he passed his eyes over a vast chandelier dripping with clear prisms and too big for the room. She caught hold of his hand and pulled him over white marble tiles shot with gold veins, to soft white carpets. Later she’d tell him she also disliked the ostentatious decor at Edwards Place.
“Are you hungry, Guy—Jilly?” Laura asked. She appeared tired and marks of strain showed around her mouth. “I think I finally am. I couldn’t have eaten anything earlier. What a shock.”
“You must have felt help
less,” Jilly said.
“I did.” Laura spread her arms. “Blood everywhere and poor little Edith in the middle of it. I feel light-headed again.”
“You sit down at once,” Jilly said. “I’ll go see if I can make some sandwiches.”
Laura put her hands on her hips. “You’ll do no such thing, stepsister-in-law.” She giggled. “Is that what we are? I’ve been trying to figure it out.”
“I guess,” Jilly said. She had to look at Guy, whose expressionless face gave away how much he disliked this house and the people in it.
“Well—” Laura tapped the toe of a pink leather sneaker “—I do believe I like that idea. Now, both of you sit down here.” She stood behind a white damask couch, one of several similar pieces in the room, and patted the cushions.
Jilly felt the slightest resistance from Guy as she followed Laura’s instructions. They sat down and Laura went to a blond marquetry desk to pick up a phone and press a button on the intercom. “Pizza, please,” she said, smiling. “I know, Mrs. O, this is late, but it’s one of those evenings when you get a craving. It’s all been such a strain. There are three of us. Maybe there’s a little somethin’ sweet for after the pizza? Bye-ee.”
When Laura put the phone down, Jilly smiled at her. For the first time she felt some warmth toward the other woman.
Guy caught sight of gold ribbon tucked into the folds of looped-and-fluffed floor-to-ceiling draperies—white naturally. At least with everything the same color he guessed they didn’t have to worry about stuff clashing. What he’d expected was a display of antiques; after all, that was Preston’s specialty.
Guy put his booted feet on the edge of a glass-topped table covered with crystal and porcelain. He smiled a little at his dusty toes. Sometimes the devil got into him.
Jilly gave his hand a hard squeeze and sent him a ferocious stare.
He sighed and put his feet on the floor again.
“Edith really did almost die,” Laura said. “It was terrible. I’d already gone to sleep and it was the thuds and then all the running footsteps that woke me. Caruthers saved her. He charged in there and applied pressure or whatever to the bleeding and he shouted for me. I wouldn’t have known how to help if he hadn’t been there.”
“Where did she cut herself?” Guy asked. “She must have got a vein.”
“I had to call Daddy. He went mad, I can tell you. Then, before you could think straight, he’d flown down here with an entire medical team and they went to work on her. She’s lost a lot of blood, but I suppose the transfusion will help with that.”
Jilly hadn’t missed the way Laura had avoided Guy’s question. “So you were there,” she said.
“I sure was. And I stayed there holdin’ her hand while Caruthers worked over her. I had no idea just how capable that man is.”
“Did she slice the back of her knee?” Guy suggested. “Or a vein in her groin?”
Laura checked her watch. “No,” she said. “They think the razor bounced and caught her across the inside of her left arm. I’ve never seen anything like it. All that shiny blood on those white covers of Edith’s. I kept on talkin’ to her, tellin’ her to stay with me. I kissed her cheek and begged her not to leave me.” Tears welled in her remarkable eyes. “Edith’s the closest to a mother I’ve ever had.”
A young, blond man built like a middleweight boxer came into the room with a tray. Guy could smell cooked onion and garlic from where he was.
“Mrs. O said to tell you she heated these leftovers in the microwave—just to tide you over. She’s making fresh.” He slid plates and napkins on the table, put the tray down in front of Guy and Jilly and made for the door again.
“Thank you, Michael,” Laura said as he disappeared. She had a slightly different kind of smile on her face and Guy decided she liked Michael.
“Leftovers,” Laura said, drawing her lips back from her lovely teeth. “Not very hospitable, but I suppose Mrs. O’s right. They’ll tide us over.”
The front doorbell rang, followed by the sound of voices in the vestibule, mostly excited voices.
Michael returned with a man and a woman in tow.
“That’s Ken and Jolene Pratt,” Jilly murmured. “They’re the ones who live in a trailer on a piece of St. Cécil land. They grow produce to sell. Some folks say Cyrus shouldn’t have them there, but you know how he is. If anyone says a negative word he tells them the Pratts tithe. Which means they do.”
Guy bit into a piece of pizza and said, “Mmm.” He thought about cooked chicken innards and put the pizza down while he watched with interest as Michael tried to apologize for letting the couple in. At the same time the two of them talked very fast about how they’d only come to pay respects to Mrs. Edith and they’d leave as soon as they’d seen her.
Guy realized he hadn’t considered that they might have been the ones who put dinner in his car. They were allegedly the most sought-after voodoo merchants in town.
“Thank you, Michael,” Laura said. “Are you the people who sell flowers to Mrs. Preston?”
“That would be us,” the woman said. She slid her eyes toward Guy and Jilly and said, “I’ve seen both of you but you wouldn’t know us. Ken and Jolene Pratt. Father Cyrus is so kind to us, letting us put the trailer on church land.”
Ken did a lot of nodding. The pair wore jeans and T-shirts and had similar, long, angular faces. They wore their dark brown hair pulled back into rubber bands at the nape and both looked at the world with large, darting, light-colored eyes.
Voodoo or not, Wazoo didn’t have to fear for her reputation as the wackiest woman in town. These people were ordinary, except for their childlike, luminous eyes. Each of them held large bouquets of mixed flowers and Jolene had a plastic bag filled with lumpy shapes.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to see Mrs. Preston this evening,” Laura said. She appeared uncomfortable and Jilly liked her for not just brushing these people off. “She’s lost a lot of blood and we’re told she’ll take a few days to get her strength back.”
They looked at each other. “I told you,” Ken said. “It’s a blessing we came.”
Jilly’s skin tightened and she felt cold. “What are you talking about?”
Two pairs of disconcerting eyes turned on her. “Nothing, really,” Jolene said. “Mrs. Edith’s been a friend to us and we want to be near her when she’s in need, that’s all.”
Guy startled Jilly by holding the back of her neck and rubbing with his fingertips.
“She loves your flowers,” Laura said, not looking herself at all. “And she says how kind you are.” She closed her mouth and her expression suggested she couldn’t believe what she’d just said.
Jolene and Ken smiled. “You don’t know how much it means to us to hear you say that,” Ken said. “We’ve been more peaceful living here than anywhere else. Could you ask Mrs. Edith if we can go to her?”
“Yes,” Jolene said. Her voice was small and thin. “We really mustn’t delay. Do you know if she had been drinking?”
A small noise escaped Laura.
Jolene flew to her and patted her arms. “No, no, you must not be distressed. Many people take a drink in the evening. We counted it into our calculations, but we are also prepared in case she did not.”
Guy held Jilly’s wrist and squeezed to stop her from saying anything.
Again the bell rang from the hall and shortly Cyrus appeared.
Ken said, “Thank you for coming so quickly, Father.” The man actually grinned. “Madge said she’d get our message to you. She agreed that there’s nothing wrong with covering all our bases. Do you know Mrs. Edith?”
“Yes,” he said shortly, with a questioning rise of the brows at Guy and Jilly. “Mrs. Preston comes to mass. The late mass, not the early one like you. She comes to your stall when she leaves—or so she tells me.”
Jilly felt like crying. Her emotions felt stripped. She hadn’t known her mother attended mass. How like Cyrus not to mention a thing about it before.
&
nbsp; “Father,” Jolene said, “Ken and I feel it’s a matter of life and death for us to see her now. She was already anemic and now she’s lost a lot of blood. We brought something to help her.”
Cyrus bowed his head and shrugged. The two walked to him and he held their shoulders. “Not everyone understands or accepts natural medicine,” he said. “The man who let me in said the doctors are with her now. She’s had a transfusion. We would have to get their permission before intruding.”
“It’s important!” Jolene’s eyes shone. “Tell him, Ken. We can help her.”
“How did you know she was anemic?” Laura asked in a breathy voice.
Jolene shrugged. “We’ve studied these things. We can tell. And we don’t use anything that isn’t natural, Mrs. Laura, so you don’t have to worry.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Mrs. Edith loves you. She talks about you.”
Laura subsided to a couch and sat, doubled over. “It’s all too much,” she said.
“She loves you, too, Miss Jilly,” Jolene went on. “She’s never been so happy as she is knowing you’re safe and well.”
“Even if she did—”
“You make her happy,” Jolene added quickly, cutting off Ken.
“I’ll go up and see how things are,” Laura said, and left the room abruptly.
“You must have sold a lot of produce this week,” Cyrus said to the Pratts. “The collection box had to be emptied earlier today.”
“We’re not happy about what’s happened to Mrs. Edith,” Ken said, shifting the topic. “There are a lot of elements shifting in Toussaint—and beyond. It could be that all we can do here is keep watch until the source of evil is brought to justice.”
Cyrus crossed his arms. “We talked about tolerance,” he told them. “But we also agreed that meant we must be careful about forcing our beliefs on others. Sometimes you can frighten people by saying things they don’t understand.”
“Sorry,” Jolene said promptly. “Let’s sit down and wait, Ken.” When he joined her she looked at him and said, “It’s not getting better, is it,” and put a hand over her mouth.
A Grave Mistake Page 8