Getting Lucky

by Carolyn Brown

  She had filed for divorce even though a little tiny bit of her had always wondered if he was right and it had been her fault. Before the divorce was final, she, her sister, and a few friends went to Dallas for a weekend of shopping and fun. They met some college buddies who drove in from San Antonio, rented motel rooms, and shopped all day Saturday. That night they hit a singles' bar and Julie met Griffin. Only that night they weren't Julie and Griffin; they were Lucky and Red and they were both drunk by the time they staggered into her hotel room.

  He had been sitting at a table with a dozen other freshly recruited military men, all looking very hand some in BDUs, shined boots, and shaved heads. She had stumbled over his boots when she was returning from the bathroom and he caught her before she fell. She'd looked up into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.

  "Well, they don't call me Lucky for nothing," he had smiled.

  "I'm so sorry. I was clumsy and not looking where I was going," she had apologized.

  "Don't be. I saw you come in. I'm a sucker for red hair. Care to dance?"

  And so it began. An evening with too many drinks, too much laughter, and two people hailing a cab back to her motel room. She wouldn't even have known his name if she hadn't noticed it stenciled into the neck of his shirt: G. Luckadeau. What the hell kind of name was Luckadeau anyway? French? Cajun?

  "So what does the "G" stand for?" she'd asked.

  "I'm off to Iraq tomorrow morning bright and early. Just call me Lucky because that's what I am. You're my red-haired good luck charm who's going to make sure I come back in one piece. I'm calling you Red."

  What had been funny that night was awkward the next morning.

  "Good-bye, Lucky," she'd said from the bed when he left.

  "Good-bye, Red," he grinned.

  The grin hadn't changed in six years but the look in his eyes sure had. At school that morning Julie had recognized nothing but shock. His hair had grown back out and she had seen for absolute sure what gene pool Annie had dipped her head in to get her white streak, but six years had been good to Griffin Luckadeau. He was just as handsome as he'd been back then.

  When he had left that morning it was with a backward glance that said he liked what he saw and if he wasn't going to Iraq he might call her again.

  "Come home in one piece," she'd said as he had walked out the motel door.

  "I promise, I will. How can I not? I just slept with the most beautiful redhead in the whole state of Texas." He shut the door gently behind him.

  "That line is so damn corny it's funny. Besides, darlin', we didn't sleep," she had said before she'd pulled the covers over her face and gone back to sleep.

  Julie had been rudely awakened by her sister pounding on the door at fifteen minutes until eleven, rushing her around so they could make the checkout time.

  The next week Derrick called. Honey dripped from his words. He missed her. He was sorry. They shouldn't throw away a six-year marriage because of his mistake. He was willing to take full blame and it would never happen again. Please give him another chance. A dose of guilty syndrome had caused her to set aside the divorce. To celebrate, Derrick took a week off work and they'd flown to Cancun.

  "There's a sucker born every second," Julie said aloud as she kept packing Edna's clothes.

  Her thoughts went back to six weeks after she and Derrick went to Cancun. She had found out she was pregnant and although he was reserved about the news she was ecstatic. The day Julie gave birth to Annie he took one look at his daughter and ordered a DNA test.

  "I'm willing to wait for the proof, Julie, and if the child is mine I will admit I'm wrong, but she's not. I see now why you were so agreeable to take me back. I won't be home until the DNA test results come back. That will give you time to move out. I'll be filing for divorce on grounds of adultery as soon as I know for sure."

  Julie had nodded numbly. One look at the baby they pulled from her and she knew immediately who the father was: G. Luckadeau. She'd even bet dollars to donuts that had his head not been shaven slick as a baby's butt, he would have had a white streak in his dark hair. Her new baby daughter had one in the front of all that beautiful black hair, along with a dimple in her chin and big round eyes that Julie had no doubt would be crystal clear blue in a few weeks.

  DNA was just a formality. The baby did not belong to Derrick Wayne Williams, III. When Julie filled out the birth certificate, she left the father's space blank and named her daughter Annie Grace Donavan, because one thing Julie would insist on was her maiden name back. Annie was not a Williams and Julie wanted nothing from Derrick, not his property or his name.

  She never did blame Derrick. Maybe he was trying to make the marriage work and felt betrayed. Julie certainly had felt that way when she discovered the affair with his engineer. She took her baby home from the hospital, moved into the garage apartment her parents rented out for extra cash, and paid her mother to keep Annie while she taught school.

  Five years later her Aunt Flossie died and left Julie her entire estate. It wasn't millions, but it was enough to buy the Lassiter property. She folded the pink dress and packed it into the garbage sack, hoping the memories would stay in the sack and not haunt her anymore. Evidently Lucky had left a pregnant wife behind when he went to Iraq, because Lizzy and Annie were born only two days apart. They were almost the same height, the same size, and could easily pass for twins.

  Julie felt sorry for his wife. She'd been the wife; she didn't ever want to be the other woman. That must be why he pretended not to remember her that day. He sure didn't want to go home and explain that he'd just run into a drunken one-night stand and the little girl that it had produced.

  "Momma, can I bring the kittens inside?" Annie whispered.

  Julie jumped. "You scared me," she said.

  "It's hot out there and there's a spider on the back porch and I know the kittens are afraid of it. Can I bring them in the house?"

  She nodded. "We'll have to make a litter pan in case they need to go when they are visiting you in the house. I'll find an old pan and put some gravel from the driveway in it. You go bring them into your room and I'll turn on the air conditioner in there. And I'll take care of that spider on my way to the driveway."

  "You are the best momma in the whole world," Annie beamed. "But you know what? I wish Lizzy was my sister, then I'd have a real person to play with instead of the kittens, and we could play with them together. I bet she'd like yellow kittens, Momma, I just know it."

  "I've been thinking some about that little girl, Annie. Some folks say that everybody has a double. Do you know what that means?"

  Annie shook her head.

  "It means somewhere in the world there is a little girl who looks so much like you that it was like you were looking in the mirror if you looked at her. I think Lizzy is your double."

  Annie hung her head. "Can she be my sister if I wish real, real hard?"

  "I don't think so. Now you go get your baby kittens and I'll get them a potty box."

  "And some milk in a bowl for snack time?" Annie pushed.

  Julie smiled. "Yes, but just a tiny bit. Their momma is still feeding them and her milk is better than the kind we buy in a jug. It's special just for them."

  A while later Julie hauled the garbage bag out to the storage shed and brought in a box marked "Julie's Stuff" on the side. She organized as she unpacked. Shirts. Slacks. Jeans. Dress clothes. Looking at her closet she felt peace. She'd made the right decision when she bought the place. She was home.

  Griffin Luckadeau could just stay out of her way and she'd do her best to grant him the same favor.

  Chapter 2

  THE SAINT JO METHODIST CHURCH WAS LOCATED ON Boggess Street, which was also Highway 677 from Saint Jo up to Illinois Bend. It was an old, red brick, two-story church with two entrances at the front, a peaked roof over part of it, and a corner that looked as if kids had been playing with LEGO blocks, built a square piece three stories high, and glued it to one side.

  It was considerabl
y smaller than the church Julie and Annie had attended with her parents in Jefferson, but she wanted a small place where she and Annie could put down roots with no history. Annie was dressed in a powder blue dress with white lace trim around the neck and hemline. Her long black hair with the white streak had been pulled back into a ponytail with a blue ribbon around the base. Julie had chosen a floral tiered skirt, predominantly mint green with splashes of bright pink and yellow, and a yellow tank top with lace trim around the neck. She wore white sandals and spent extra time that morning taming her red curls with mousse and lots of patience.

  She held Annie's hand and they walked through the doors in time for the first hymn. They stopped at a pew about halfway up the aisle that had enough space at the end for them to sit comfortably. An older lady scooted over to give them a little more room and then stared at Annie as if she were seeing a ghost.

  The music director gave out the hymn. Julie picked up a song book from the back of the pew in front of her and held it so Annie could see. She couldn't read yet but she did try on the hymns she'd heard most often. Announcements were made: two babies were born that week.

  A grin tickled the corners of Julie's mouth. People had sex in Saint Jo in spite of the name of the town, which suggested that only the pure and holy lived there. Mrs. Smith died and the funeral lunch would be in the fellowship hall Tuesday. Anyone interested in bringing food should contact Mamie Pickett over at Miss Molly's Shoppe. A potluck dinner was planned on Friday for the senior citizens Sunday school class.

  Julie recognized the name: Mamie Pickett. She was the realtor Julie had dealt with when she bought the Lassiter place. She was still thinking about Mamie when the preacher began his sermon. She had barely settled into listening mode when Annie tugged on her arm. She looked down to see her daughter with the biggest smile on her face and her small finger pointing straight ahead.

  Julie whispered behind her hand into her daughter's ears. "Annie, don't point at the preacher. It's rude and it will make him nervous."

  "Look," Annie squirmed and kept pointing.

  Julie finally looked where she was pointing. Griffin Luckadeau sat right there not three feet from her in the next pew. God must carry a grudge for a long time. She'd expected bad things to happen after Derrick divorced her, but life had gone on the same as always. Now, when she thought she'd been forgiven, she was being punished.

  Lizzy had turned around on her knees in the pew right in front of them and was smiling at Annie. When her father touched her arm and said something to her, she flipped around, but all through the sermon she and Annie both wiggled at the same speed—which was a little faster than if they'd had ants in their pants but not quite enough to rub the velvet off the pew cushions.

  Julie checked her watch every thirty seconds. The thirty-minute sermon lasted three days past eternity, and she didn't have the foggiest notion of what the preacher said. He could have been advocating burning in hell for one-night stands or asking for donations to build a new barn for an elder member of the church for all she knew when he finished his sermon. Julie couldn't keep her mind or thoughts from the Luckadeau man sitting in front of her. She studied the shape of his head and resisted the urge to brush a lock of hair from his shirt collar. She got angry all over again for her decision to move to Saint Jo without at least checking the phone book for the Luckadeau name.

  Finally the preacher asked Griffin Luckadeau to give the benediction as he tip-toed down the aisle to the door to greet the people as they left.

  Julie fidgeted while he prayed. Evidently, he had come home from Iraq and gotten saved, sanctified, and dehorned because the man she'd slept with didn't appear to be so big on prayers. There was no getting around it, under it, or through it—she'd have to see Griffin six days a week whether she liked it or not. Or she'd have to find a different church, and explaining to her Methodist minister father why she'd changed her faith would be more diffi cult than biting the bullet and staying right there.

  Annie waved at Lizzy the minute the prayer ended. Lizzy's smile covered half her face, her blue eyes danced, and the dimple in her chin deepened. She tugged on her father's arm but he was in conversation with a man to his left.

  Julie grabbed Annie's hand, moved toward the front door, and every few seconds glanced over her shoulder to see if he was looking her way. She shook the preacher's hand and told him she'd enjoyed the sermon and was out the door long before Griffin ever finished his conversation.

  "Momma I want to go to Sunday school next week so I can play with Lizzy, and maybe I can sit with her next week and ain't that wonderful?" Annie prattled on without coming up for air. "Can we Momma please sit with her and her daddy next Sunday? I can't wait to see her in school and tell her we can sit together in church and maybe we'll be together in the Sunday school." Annie bounced in the pickup seat.

  Julie put her off with a wave of her hand and let her keep right on chattering about Lizzy.

  Griffin kept talking, blocking Lizzy's way into the aisle with his tall, strong body and his back to Julie. Finally, he stopped talking and looked down at Lizzy, who was fidgeting.

  "Daddy she was here right here behind me in the church with me, and Miss Julie was there and she has red hair and when I go to school I'm going to tell her to come to Sunday school next week and we can sit together in church." Lizzy talked nonstop all the way to the church doors.

  "What are you talking about?" Griffin asked. The hair on his neck stood up and itched. His pulse picked up speed just thinking about the new teacher. Why in the devil did she show up at his church?

  "I'm talkin' about Annie! She was behind us. I turned around in the seat and she looked at me and she smiled and hurry Daddy she's getting in that blue truck with her momma and maybe we can take them home with us for dinner today." Lizzy talked fast and furious, gesturing toward the truck the whole time.

  Griffin looked up in time to see the schoolteacher helping her daughter into an older model Ford truck. The sun bounced off the white streak in Annie's hair. Julie looked beautiful in her Sunday dress and sandals with the sun throwing highlights in her hair. He had a strange notion that involved running his hands through her hair, maybe even tilting that pert little chin back for a kiss. He shook his head violently to erase the image. He didn't know that woman and couldn't even figure out what game she had up her sleeve. Kissing her was out of the question. Besides, Rachel would go up in flames.

  The preacher called out to him, "Griffin, I didn't know you had relatives in the area. That child has to be a Luckadeau. I didn't know they were your relatives until they were already gone. I'd have visited a little longer."

  "Don't worry about it," Griffin said. It was a lot easier said than done. He'd spent a whole week worrying about it.

  "Relatives? Does that mean kinfolks like Jane and Slade and Milli and Katy Scarlett, does that mean that little girl is my kinfolks?" Lizzy asked on the way to the truck.

  "I'm not sure what it means but we're going home. Nana Rita will have dinner ready and she made banana pudding this morning." Griffin tried to steer the conver sation away from the mystery surrounding the new schoolteacher.

  It didn't work. Lizzy talked non-stop all the way to the ranch about nothing else but Annie Donavan.

  Julie made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. She'd set a quart of frozen peaches out to thaw that morning before they'd gone to church and had looked forward to them right up until the time she realized Griffin was sitting in front of her. Seeing him there had just flat killed her appetite.

  It seemed strange to think of him with a name. He'd always been G. Luckadeau when she had let him into her memories.

  Annie rattled on and on while she ate all her soup and sandwich, asked for more, and polished off the last half of her mother's. Julie managed a few bites, but she might as well have been eating a sawdust sandwich. The peaches didn't even look good to her. They'd barely finished lunch and were thinking about cleaning out Annie's closet when the knock came to the front do
or.

  Julie jumped. She was not prepared for the show down, but if Griffin wanted a fight then she wasn't running from it, either. She would tell him exactly what she thought and without a single stutter.

  She took a deep breath and slung the door open to find Mamie Pickett standing there with an apple pie in her hands.

  "Welcome to our neck of the woods in Montague County," she smiled brightly. "Did I come at a bad time? You look like you saw a ghost."

  "No, not at all. Please come in. Thank you for the pie. Bring it into the kitchen. Drag up a chair. I'll make us a glass of tea and we'll share the pie," Julie said.

  Mamie followed Julie into the kitchen, set the pie on the table, and smiled at Annie. "Well, hello. You would be Annie? I'm Mamie Pickett, the lady who sold your mother this place. Think we could be friends?"