Jake was suddenly very tired. He’d spent the entire night in the lockup guarding his person from the derelicts he was rooming with, and now he could barely keep his eyes open. He nodded.
Jake was taken out a side door, ushered into a patrol car, and driven home, with the deputies reminding him they would be on his doorstep at six thirty in the morning. Jake didn’t bother to respond. He entered his house, locked the doors, and headed for the shower, where he scrubbed down no less than four times to make sure no bugs or lice were crawling over him. Then he climbed into bed and slept till almost midnight. He woke refreshed, took another long, hot shower, and went downstairs to make himself something to eat, after which he packed his things in a huge duffel and set it by the front door for his early-morning departure.
Jake spent the remaining hours in his darkened living room swilling cup after cup of coffee as he contemplated his past, the present, and what the future held for him.
Just five miles away, Angelica and Fancy Dancer started their new day as they prepared for their new twenty-four/seven, 365-day volunteer, compliments of just-retired St. Tammany Parish Judge Nathan Broussard.
Fancy Dancer was a beautiful young woman with ebony hair and liquid brown eyes. There was a tint to her skin that made the wicked scar, running from her eyebrow down the side of her cheek, stand out. Sometimes, when she had time to waste, she would apply thick theatrical makeup to cover the scar. She had a glorious smile that was capable of lighting up a room. When she was tired, which was most of the time, a decided limp could be seen in her gait. After one meeting with the graceful, beautiful young dancer, one ceased to see the scar or notice the limp. She was just Fancy. In the beginning, after the accident and all the operations, she’d tried to hide the scar by letting her hair cover it, and she’d practiced standing a certain way so people wouldn’t notice when she limped, and pity her.
That all ended when she’d become so depressed that her mother took charge, pep-talked her, and proved to her daughter that just because you’re handicapped does not mean that you can’t have a good life. So, with the money Angelica had saved from her years of performing in every major ballet venue in the world, she’d encouraged Fancy to use her accident settlement monies, which amounted to a robust sum, to buy this very piece of property and take in what they called the throwaway kids. They’d started small, with just six children, and over the past seven years that number had increased to twenty-five youngsters they loved, nurtured, and looked after.
Their only problem, aside from needing more money each year, was finding people willing to donate their time. The kids themselves helped, the older children taking the younger ones under their wing. Schedules were set up and followed. They had their own school in one of the old barns on the property. Retired seniors who had been teachers in their other lives rotated their schedules to home school the kids. While it wasn’t an elite academy, not even close, the kids were learning and doing their best in a loving environment, and what more could anyone want?
Stores and restaurants, when they found out about the foundation or saw an ad asking for donations, gave food by the bushel and carton. There were times when they had too much and times when they didn’t have enough, but somehow they managed.
There was nothing modern at all about the Dancer Foundation. More often than not the plumbing stopped working or the electricity went out. Just about everything at the foundation carried three or four layers of duct tape, which they were never without.
They had one television set because Fancy said they needed computers more than they needed to watch television. Reading was stressed, and trips to the local library were encouraged. All in all, when the authorities came by for their usual inspections, the reports were glowing and satisfying. Those same reports were always followed up with the inspector saying he or she didn’t know how the two Dancer women did it, considering their disabilities, but they were doing it. And if they overlooked the duct tape, so what?
“Mom, where are we going to put this guy when he gets here? We’re so stretched for room now, there’s just no place for him. He’s a guy, so he’s going to need some kind of space and privacy.”
Angelica, Angel to her friends, looked up at her daughter. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else since Judge Broussard called yesterday. The only thing I can think of is that we’ll get him a cot, and he’ll have to sleep in one of the schoolrooms. He can come over here to shower and shave, that kind of thing. We’ll tell him he has to get up an extra hour earlier than everyone else. We can’t be unkind to him, even though this is a punishment. And it will be nice to have a man here to help out. I’ve seen pictures of him, you know. He’s a handsome young man, he really is. He comes from serious money. Oil money,” she said in a hushed voice.
“He’s a playboy, Mom. He has a different woman on his arm every night, and he drives a fancy sports car that cost more than it takes to run this place for a whole year. I saw those same articles and pictures. Don’t go getting your hopes up that this guy is going to save our butts. We’ll probably be cracking his to get him to do some honest work. Everyone isn’t fit to take care of kids. Even we have our bad days, and we both love kids. To be honest, Mom, I’m not looking forward to our new volunteer. And he’s coming with an ankle monitor. He can’t drive for a year; they took his license. So he isn’t going to be a help to us when it comes to driving.”
“I don’t share your feelings, Fancy. I think it’s all going to work out just fine. Do you think you can give me my shot now?”
Fancy smiled. “Sure, Mom. She reached inside the refrigerator and pulled out the needle with Humira. She plunged it into the softness of her mother’s stomach, rinsed the needle, then wrapped it in a plastic grocery bag before she threw it in the trash. “It’s wearing off quicker these days, isn’t it?” she asked, concern ringing in her voice. She felt her mother’s pain each time she looked at her swollen hands and feet.
Angel sighed. She never could fool that astute daughter of hers. “Sometimes. I’ll make the coffee, you start the cereal. Five more minutes and he should be here.”
“Oh, gee whiz, Miz Angelica, I can hardly wait for that white knight to come knocking on our door to save us two beautiful damsels. Yessiree, I can hardly wait.”
Angel laughed and pointed to the back door. “I think the white knight just arrived on his trusty, or should I say the parish’s, four-wheel steed.”
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Fancy said, her grin spreading from ear to ear. “Wait till Bobby lets all the dogs loose!”
“Oh dear, I did forget about our other housemates. Well, that’s just something else our new volunteer will have to get used to, now won’t he?”
“Yep, guess so.”
Angel didn’t miss the giggle in her daughter’s throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Fancy giggle. Or laugh, or even smile. Maybe the new volunteer could help that situation. Maybe.
Chapter 4
Jake looked over his new residence with a jaundiced eye. It was a big, sprawling house with additions going every which way. It almost looked like a puzzle with pieces missing.
“I have to officially hand you over to the ladies,” the deputy said, his tone just short of embarrassed.
“No problem,” Jake said as he craned his neck to look around. It was a nice setting, with old oak trees dripping Spanish moss. Peaceful. Restful. Here and there, he could see some grass. Just patches. The place needed Mika’s fine hand. The shrubs had been pruned at some point. Compared to a nine-by-six cell, this was definitely a better deal.
Jake hefted his two duffel bags out of the trunk and slung them over his shoulder. He wished he’d taken the time to eat something. His stomach was growling. He followed the deputy, who was ringing the doorbell. The front door was opened by a woman sitting in a wheelchair. Her voice was soft and melodious when she said, “Please, come in.”
The deputy waited until she turned her chair around, then said to Jake, “Follow me.”
In the old-fashioned kitchen, introductions were made. Jake set his duffels down and was about to shake hands with the woman in the wheelchair when he saw her swollen, disfigured hands. She smiled and said, “I’m sorry.”
The words just flew out of Jake’s mouth. “It looks painful. Is it?”
“Very,” Angelica said quietly.
“I’m Fancy, and yes, that’s my real legal name,” Fancy said, a touch of defiance ringing in her voice. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken a few more minutes with her hair and maybe used some of the concealer makeup she used for special occasions. Vanity, thy name is woman. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone so good-looking staring at her. Or at her scar. Normally, the stares didn’t bother her, but she had to fight the urge not to bring her hand up to cover the ugly blemish on her face.
The deputy handed Fancy a clipboard. “Just sign at the bottom, Ms. Dancer. It just says I am releasing Mr. St. Cloud into your custody.” He almost said he’s your problem now, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded to the two women, then turned and walked away.
The silence was awkward. And then it was pandemonium as a gaggle of kids of all ages whooped through the house. Fancy sighed. “Welcome to the Dancer Foundation, Mr. St. Cloud. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go outside and walk around until we get breakfast out of the way. I’m sorry we aren’t more prepared for you, but Judge Broussard caught us off guard yesterday. We’ve never had a live-in volunteer before so we... Just go outside. We’ll call you after breakfast.”
Jake looked at the kids who were swarming all over the place, some big, some little, some in-between. And then the dogs started barking and the cats were hissing and the kids were laughing and giggling. “If you tell me where I’m bunking, I’ll take my bags there.”
“Well, you see, Mr. St. Cloud, that’s the problem. We don’t have a place—a room for you. My mother thought... thinks you can sleep in one of the schoolrooms. We’re going to try to find you a cot, but you might have to use a sleeping bag. And, of course, there is no shower in that building, so you’ll have to do all that over here in one of our bathrooms.”
“Well now, you see, Ms. Dancer, that isn’t going to work for me. I require a certain amount of space, even if it is a small space. Nothing was said about accommodations other than that I may not use my own funds to improve their quality; therefore, I think I have the right to assume I’d get the equivalent space and bunk as I would have in a jail. So, before we go any further on this, you need to call someone, and I’ll call my lawyer. I’m sure we can come to some kind of mutual understanding.”
Fancy copped an attitude right there on the spot, her face turning beet red. “It’s not like we had anything to say on the matter, Mr. St. Cloud. You were foisted on us. We did not ask for you or your help. Meaning you specifically. Furthermore, Mr. St. Cloud, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”
Foisted? As other volunteers arrived to get the day under way, Jake bristled as he tried to control his temper. The kids were jabbering and poking each other as they jostled for the first shift at the table in the dining room. Angelica Dancer looked as if she was going to cry. Not so her daughter; Fancy Dancer looked as though she were going to chew nails and spit rust.
“Just go outside, and we’ll deal with this when breakfast is over,” Fancy said through clenched teeth.
Outside, Jake dropped his duffels on the back porch. He walked down the steps and around the yard until he found a place to sit down. A second later, his cell phone was in his hand, and he was dialing Alex Rosario’s number. Alex picked up on the third ring. “A problem already?”
“Yeah, and as my parole officer, I want you to take care of it. Like now, before this gets out of hand. Otherwise, I’ll just go to jail. At least I’ll have a bunk, a sink, and a toilet.”
“Calm down and tell me what happened.” Jake rattled off his explanation.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. You knew this wasn’t going to be the Ritz.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it was going to be cave living, either. I have rights. I want a damn bed and a bathroom. I don’t mind sharing, either. And don’t tell me to suck it up.”
“For whatever it’s worth, I agree with you, Jake. I’ll see what I can do. As a last resort, I might have to go to the newspaper. Are you okay with that?”
Was he? Yes, he was okay with it. Right was right, fair was fair. “Do whatever you have to do.”
As long as he had his cell phone out, he might as well follow through on his promise to call his father. Jonah St. Cloud picked up on the first ring. Jake got right to it. “What is it you wanted from me? I’m sure you have figured out by now that I’m not in a position to help anyone at the moment. But I said I would call, so I’m calling.”
“You’re a damn fool, Jake. I could have gotten you off. Just the way those two old fools Estes and Elroy could have gotten you off. And look what it got you.”
“I noticed you didn’t include Alex Rosario in your little speech. It’s about accountability. I was guilty, and so I have to pay for what I did. I’m okay with it. Why can’t you be okay with it? It’s over and done with, so let’s get on with it. What do you want from me?”
“We’re having some problems on the rigs. A few spills that we contained. We have some kind of bacteria out there.” He went on to talk about the water-injection systems, but Jake was only half listening. “I know you worked on that when you were in Saudi Arabia. I’ve been trying to call that guy you worked with, but he isn’t returning my calls. I wanted you to get in touch with him. You said he was a good friend, a mentor to you. If we have another spill, it could be disastrous.”
“Okay, I can do that. His field of expertise is bioremediation. If he can’t help you, he can turn you on to someone who can. Does that conclude our business?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Jake blinked when he realized that his father had broken the connection. He shrugged; he’d done what he promised—he’d called. He had to get in touch with Tom Searles and ask him to call Jonah St. Cloud. In the end, he decided to send Tom a text rather than make a phone call. With that done, he had fulfilled his end of the bargain.
With nothing else to do, Jake sat and twiddled his fingers as he wondered how his day was going to go, since he’d gone all snarly back there in the kitchen. He looked over at what once had been a side yard but was now a parking lot of sorts. It was lined with cars. Volunteers. He mopped at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It was going to be another sweltering day. Strange for September, he thought. He thought of other Septembers in the course of his life. The one that really stood out in his mind was his first year at LSU, after his mother’s death. The reason it stood out was that he couldn’t remember it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was sick and tired of all the trips down memory lane. The past was past, and you couldn’t undo it. Let it go and move on. Easier said than done.
Jake was shaken from his somber thoughts when he saw a small boy with golden curls and two missing front teeth running toward him. “Hey, Mr. Man, Miss Fancy said for me to bring you to come to the kitchen.” He held his hand out to Jake, and Jake took it.
“What’s your name?” Jake asked.
“Charlie.”
“Okay, Charlie, let’s not keep Miss Fancy waiting.” They walked around the side of the house to the back porch, where Fancy Dancer was waiting for him. A peek inside the kitchen door confirmed that there was no room in the kitchen for an extra person.
Fancy took the lead. “I don’t think, Mr. St. Cloud, that you are a suitable fit for us. I called the courthouse, explained our dilemma, and they’re going to be sending an investigator over shortly. So, until he or she gets here, feel free to do whatever you want
. Just don’t get in the way of the volunteers.”
Jake had a dozen snappy comebacks on his tongue, but instead of voicing them, just shrugged and walked back to where he had been sitting when young Charlie found him.
Fancy watched him go. She’d expected a few sharp-tongued retorts and was almost disappointed that she wasn’t going to get the chance to debate those retorts. Like I really need a good-looking playboy who thinks he is God’s gift to women under my feet all day long. On the other hand, I’ve always loved a challenge. Well, too late now.
Shortly before noon, a cavalcade of cars swerved into the parking area; some double-parked, others just parked anywhere. Jake missed the arrival because he had dozed off on the bench he was sitting on. He woke when he heard the furious shouting coming from the kitchen. He got up and ambled his way toward the back porch.
There was enough noise to rival that of a three-ring circus. He sat down on the steps and propped his elbows on his knees and listened.
“A court order is a court order.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s a good fit or not. You signed off on it.”
“If there’s no room, there’s no room. I can’t conjure something out of thin air.”
“Then let the county fund a hotel room at night for him.”
“He can’t drive. Someone would have to take him there, then pick him up in the morning. This is way outside what we agreed to.”
“There’s no room in the budget for a year’s worth of hotel rooms.”
“It would take months to rescind the court order. The order stays in place.”
“But I told you . . .”
“I don’t care. You signed off on it. If you break the order, you will be in contempt, which in turn could lead to jail time.”
“You want a full-court press on this, you got it. Where’s that going to leave you and your foundation? Bad press for a place like this won’t be good. You’ll come across as two bitter women fighting the St. Cloud media machine.”
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