Under the Autumn Sky

by Liz Talley

  Lou’s plate crashed to the floor. Everyone stopped midconversation and stared. Her face flooded with color. “Oops. Sorry.”

  She bent at the same time Abram did and their heads bumped.

  “Ow,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

  “Stop doing that,” she hissed, scooping up fruit dip with a napkin and retrieving the unbroken glass catering plate that had rolled under the huge buffet.

  “I can’t help it. This isn’t fair.”

  She plopped a tart on the plate and lifted blue eyes to him. “Don’t you know life is unfair?”

  The sadness in her voice killed the flirty words on his tongue as he realized she was right. Life wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she experienced that every day since her parents had been killed? He’d heard the longing in her voice when she talked about music and her hope one day it would once again be more than a hobby, something more than playing a guitar in her bedroom every night? Lou had made sacrifices—more than he’d ever been confronted with.

  Not having her was the biggest sacrifice he’d made since he’d let Nate sit shotgun the last time they took Picou to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. Abram didn’t make concessions. He got what he wanted. Always had.

  He rose, took the plate from her, and motioned his wingman over. “Have you met Jordan Curtis?”

  His words were loud enough that everyone could hear and impersonal enough to indicate she was nothing more than the dozen other prospects’ parents.

  “Oh, no. Hello, Coach Curtis.” She held out a hand to Jordan, who shot him the look as he took it. Abram knew what the look asked. Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Yeah, I’m smitten. No, I can’t help it.

  So he’d stood there and pretended they were nothing to each other. Even as he wanted to claim her. Have her beside him. Tell the coaches, the program, the NCAA to kiss his ass.

  But he wouldn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  Doing so would mean tossing his own dreams away—and those of the boy standing next to froufrou-looking curtains talking to a quarterback prospect.

  “You coming, Dufrene?” the offensive coordinator asked, shoving a visor on his head and interrupting Abram’s thoughts. “I’m sitting in the booth tonight. Need all you guys to be my ears. Dave Wambecker will bring the heat. Always does. We’re looking at lots of different blitz packages. On our toes, fellows, on our toes.”

  And just like that, Lou faded to the back burner where she’d simmer, hotly, in his mind. Right now it was time to handle Alabama.

  “We’re ready, Coach. Always ready.”

  * * *

  WAYLON HAD SPENT the day taking in the sights and sounds of ULBR football. He could smell spicy jambalaya and seductive bourbon in the air along with a sort of buzz of expectation. They’d spent the morning doing some more touring of the campus, culminating in a tailgate with gumbo, sausage sandwiches and pulled pork. He’d looked longingly at the beers in everyone’s hands, but knew he’d have to settle for a soda, even if beer went better at a tailgate.

  A pass hung around his neck and later after the band came down the hill, they’d get to go on the field and watch the team warm up.

  The sky was clear cerulean, leaves swirling with the cool wind, the sun hot on his shoulders. A good day to watch football. An even better day to play football.

  The crowd moved around them, everyone in purple and black with the occasional red-clad fan tossing out good-natured taunts. All in good fun. All in the name of the game of the gods. Football.

  “Look at those guys.” Lori pointed at the line of students lined up to enter the stadium. Several wore purple-and-black leisure suits and one even wore a purple Batman costume. “That’s crazy dedication.”

  One of the hot girls who’d been escorting them around campus laughed. “We’re all crazy. That’s the best thing about this place. Doesn’t get any weirder or more wonderful than a Saturday night in Panther Stadium.”

  Her eyes slid to Waylon. At that moment he forgot her name. Rula? Ryan? Something like that. She smiled and gave him that “you better like all this and say so” look.

  “Cool,” he breathed and grabbed another bottle of water from the tub at his feet. He glanced at her name tag. Riley.

  “We’re about to go to the stadium,” she said, flipping her long highlighted hair over one shoulder. He caught the scent in the breeze. She smelled like Morgan and his heart squeezed. Bitch.

  He shoved thoughts of his now ex-girlfriend into the back of his mind. They were over. He’d broken up with her before leaving Bonnet Creek. No sense in thinking about her when Riley stood next to him, smiling in her tight ULBR T-shirt and body-hugging jeans. She was smoking hot and seemed willing enough. Well, at least willing to escort him around campus.

  He pushed a hand through his hair, which he’d started growing out into a shaggy cool look, and parked his hands on his hips so his shoulders looked broader. “You going out with us tonight?”

  She lifted her eyes and her mouth twitched. “I’m not sure, but I’ll give you my number so if I do we can meet up.”

  Sweet.

  Lori’s mouth opened, but he gave her a laser look that said “shut up.” She’d seen it enough to clap her trap shut and look puzzled. He hadn’t told either of his sisters he’d broken up with Morgan.

  “Cool.” He pulled out his phone and tapped in her digits. “I don’t really know the guys on the team I’m going with so it will be sweet to have a friend.”

  Her eyes turned into gray silk. “Then you should call me.”

  He hoped like hell the Panthers beat Alabama tonight, otherwise the guys assigned to him would be in crappy moods. He wanted to feel good tonight. To forget about Coach Landry, Morgan and all the shitty stuff in his life.

  He wanted to toss off the fetters. Drink a cold one and make out with Riley. He wanted to become someone else. Grab the golden ring. Or brass bell. Or whatever it was.

  He wanted to live and feel again.

  * * *

  LOU SLID INTO THE SEAT and blinked against the sunlight refracting off the metal bleachers of the end zone. Picou and Sally hadn’t made it to their seats yet which was fine by her. She needed some time to think. The day had been a whirl of breakfast, lunch and tailgate all paired with the soft sell on the ULBR athletic program. She’d hardly had time to pee.

  She glanced about the filling stadium. It was massive. The band trailed down the concrete steps heading for what she assumed was pregame. The cheerleaders gathered signs and poms, while the infamous Gridiron Girls secured capes and filed down toward the field. A black cage containing Champ the Panther started moving around the sidelines, pulled by a large truck. Everyone getting ready, including the Alabama Crimson Tide warming up on the field.

  A few choice words flew toward the opposing team, but mostly the crowd seemed to be resting, preparing much like the other parts of the whole process that was a Saturday night football game in the greatest coliseum of the South. Or that’s what one of the staff had declared a few moments ago on their tour of the athletic facility.

  Lou swiped at the sweat gathering on her brow. The breeze was cool but the sun would be an unwelcome visitor for another hour or so.

  A few members of the ULBR football team strolled out from the tunnel beneath her and she couldn’t stop herself from looking for Abram.

  Abram.

  Just the thought of him had her heart quickening. Seeing him last night, his silken words sliding over her, tangling her thoughts into a mess of want and need, had her dreams filled with sweet kisses and…sex in the bathroom? She wasn’t sure, but she’d been having sex with him somewhere, his fingers knotted in her hair, when Lori had walked in and caught them. In her dream she’d been mortified.

  But also very turned on.

  She probably needed a counselor to talk to. Her fixation with Abram and his delicious body had taken over her thoughts and dreams.

  “There you are,” Picou said, interrupting Lou’s fantasy of Abram naked. Dear Lord. She couldn’t stop the pink from
staining her cheeks. “Caught you daydreaming, didn’t we?”

  If only you knew, lady.

  “Hi,” Lou said, standing so Picou and Sally could slide by. “How is your grandmother, Sally?”

  “Remarkably better,” Sally replied, dropping her bag and program on the seat. She’d already been to the concession stand and balanced nachos in her hand. “For some reason, she feels good. Her blood pressure stabilized and she insisted on being able to go to the bingo game in the parlor of her nursing home.”

  Picou peered over at Lou. “It was a double blessing because Sally stayed the night at Beau Soleil and got to come to the game. Gives me more time to spend with her.”

  Sally’s face tightened, and oddly enough it looked like Waylon’s face when he talked about grades, recruiting or Coach Landry. Stressed.

  “I’m glad you both made it,” Lou said, sitting back down. “I’ve been surrounded by guys all afternoon, and Lori left me to go sit with her BFF. She’s spending the night at her friend’s grandparents’ town house, so I’m totally on my own.”

  “Not anymore.” Picou grinned and snagged one of Sally’s nachos. “We’ll keep you company.”

  Sally nodded and moved her nachos out of Picou’s reach. It made Lou want to laugh because she could remember very well hating when her own mother scooped bites off her place without asking.

  “This is my first ULBR game at the stadium. One time we drove to Shreveport when my parents were still alive to see the Panthers play in a bowl game, but from what I hear it’s not the same.” Lou looked around. Definitely not the same.

  Picou looked longingly at Sally’s nachos. “It’s not. This place gets about as raucous as a liquored-up honky-tonk. Come to think of it, it is a liquored-up honky-tonk.”

  The older woman wore a bright purple shirt with an ULBR Panther blingy pin fastened to the shoulder. She also wore huge platter earrings with a picture of a panther on each one, which nestled in platinum hair that hung long and straight past her thin shoulders. Her black jeans were tight, and Lou noted there was a good reason Coach Holt had made his way over when the woman beckoned that day at camp.

  Picou stood, inserted two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

  Lou’s gaze jerked to the field as the Panthers jogged on for pregame warm-up. The crowd went nuts. Her eyes immediately sought Abram, but she didn’t see him. She did see Waylon in a tight-knit group of recruits moving as a unit onto the sidelines. Walking beside her brother was a cutie in jeans and an ULBR T-shirt. The wattage in the girl’s smile as she looked up at Waylon could have powered one of the huge halogen stadium lights. Her brother looked receptive.

  Interesting. That might explain why Morgan hadn’t been around lately.

  “I don’t see Abram,” Picou said, turning and sitting down. Neither Lou nor Sally had stood when the team ran onto the field, but most of the stadium had. The whole event reminded Lou of the stories of gladiators she’d read growing up. How different was this from the Colosseum? It would be the same roar of a hungry crowd, the clashing of bodies, and a fight till the death, or at least till the clock ran out. Even the panther in the cage moving around the stadium harkened age-old primeval stirrings of savagery—and every one present loved it.

  “There he is.” Sally pointed, licking cheese off her finger before popping another nacho in her mouth.

  Sure enough Abram walked beside another coach toward the sideline. His stride was casual, but Lou saw tension in the way he held his shoulders. Like the beast in the cage, Abram seemed primed to unleash. Odd, but she’d never thought about the coach’s mindset leading up to a game. Abram looked as focused as any kid out on the field.

  Then somehow his eyes found hers.

  She felt heat blanket her, and like the anticipation of the crowd surrounding her, Lou’s insides began to hum. She smiled at him. Damn, she was glad he’d scored seats near the field for her and his family. Nice perk.

  “Hmm,” Sally said with a knowing grin.

  Lou jerked her gaze to Sally. “What?”

  “I’m beginning to see everything clearly now,” Abram’s sister responded, with a little self-satisfied bob of her head.

  Lou frowned. “Nothing’s cloudy.”

  Picou turned around. “What are y’all jabbering about? Get on your feet. They’re about to do the coin toss.”

  Sally shrugged and stood, looking back at her. Lou felt dread uncoil in her stomach. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see what she felt for Abram, especially someone in his family.

  But there was no time to dwell on what she wanted people to see or not see.

  The Panthers took the field and for the first half, Lou allowed herself to be sucked into the magic that was an ULBR football game on a Louisiana Saturday night. By the end of the half, the Panthers were up by only three points.

  As she watched Abram jog off the field, hunger hit her like a linebacker. She couldn’t have Abram, but she could head to the concession stand for some peanuts and a Coke. Hopefully filling herself up with food instead of what she really wanted wouldn’t lead to a weight problem. She could foresee herself in Overeaters Anonymous. “I couldn’t have the man, so I turned to Krispy Kremes to fill my need.”

  She slid by the other ladies and walked quickly down the steps. She didn’t beat the crowd, but she refused to be beat back from this small desire.

  As Lou headed back toward the ramp, peanuts and soda in hand, Sally passed her, cell phone to her ear, a grim expression on her face. She didn’t acknowledge Lou, but instead strode to the stairwell and leaned against the rough plaster, shaking her head and firing off one comment after the other into the phone.

  Lou knew it was none of her business, but something was evidently wrong so she hung out near the ramp waiting for Sally to finish her conversation. When Sally dropped the phone from her ear, Lou knew it had to be really bad news.

  “Sally?”

  Abram’s sister stiffened, her gaze finding Lou. She didn’t say anything for a moment, then she beckoned her over.

  “You okay?” Lou asked, tucking the peanuts into the crook of her arm and placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder.

  “No, not really. It’s my grandmere.” Her voice broke as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Suddenly she crashed. They don’t expect her to last through the night.”

  “No,” Lou murmured.

  “Oh, God,” Sally said, pressing her fingers into her eyes. “I thought she was better. Why did I come here?”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Lou said, awkwardly patting her back. “What can I do?”

  “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get to Houma as soon as I can.” Sally glanced about. “I rode with Picou, and I don’t have my car.”

  “Let me get her.”

  “No!” Sally’s hand snatched Lou’s arm as she turned. “No, I can’t deal with her right now. I—I—”

  “But she’s your mother.”

  “No, she isn’t. I mean, she is, but not really.”

  Lou shook her head. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I know it sounds horrible, but I can’t help it. I’m a fish out of water in that family. I may be that little girl who was stolen away, but I’m not Della. I can’t go back and make up for what they lost. I can’t. Especially right now. I’m Sally Cheramie and my grandmother is dying. That’s the most important thing. So don’t say anything. Please.”

  “I’ve had just about enough of this, Sally.” Picou’s voice came from over Lou’s shoulder.

  Sally flinched as she met her mother’s gaze but said nothing more.

  “You may not want to accept who you are, but you are my daughter, and I will damn well take you to Enola. Now, here’s your purse. The director of the nursing home left a message on my phone when you didn’t answer yours in the first quarter. I told her we’d be there within a couple of hours. Let’s go.” Picou shoved the purse at her daughter.

  “Why would they call you? They don’t even know you or about all this in my life.” Sally glan
ced about the now-thinning crowd as if looking for help. Or a way to disappear.

  Lou heard the crowd roar and knew the third quarter had started.

  “Your grandmother figured it out several months ago. Somehow she got my name. We’ve spoken several times.”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me? You knew she was sick and couldn’t handle knowing I’m not truly her granddaughter. That was mine to tell.” Sally’s voice rose and a few people craned their heads, pausing to see what was going down in the middle of Panther Stadium.

  “Enola called me. We both agreed it would be best to give you time. She wanted to tell you she knew. She said you were tough—she’d raised you that way—but I wouldn’t let her. I wanted you to have control, wanted you to decide when the time was right.”

  Lou started to step back and fade into the background. This didn’t concern her, and she had no right standing around listening in on such a personal conversation, but Sally’s hand clamped down on her arm.

  “I can’t believe this. You run roughshod over everyone,” Sally said, shaking her head and taking her purse from her mother’s outstretched hand. “You know, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this now. I need to go to Houma.”

  “So let’s go,” Picou said, gesturing toward the open stairwell to their right. “And so you know, Sally, you’re tougher than what you portray. Enola only refined the steel in you. The Laborde women don’t give up, and I won’t give up, either. I gave you life, and I love you. One day you will know that.”

  Sally closed her eyes and sighed. “Just take me to my grandmere.”

  Picou nodded. “That I can do.”

  Sally walked toward the stairs, not bothering to look back. Lou didn’t say a thing because she thought she might call her a not so nice name. She understood circumstances had been tough on Sally, but they’d been equally tough on the woman standing beside her, not quite defeated but not quite so full of starch.

  Picou looked at her. “Will you tell Abram what happened?”

  “Of course,” Lou said, glancing at the empty stairwell Sally had disappeared down. “Is there anything I can do for you?”