Chapter 13
When I woke, it was bright outside. Jack was still asleep, his arms around me, squeezing me so tightly against him that it was hard to breathe. He never told me so, but sometimes I thought he had nightmares too—the kind that make you latch onto someone and not let go.
I wriggled enough that he stirred and loosened his grip.
“Good morning,” he said, his lips moving against my bare shoulder.
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
He kissed my back. “Merry Christmas, yourself.”
His hands roamed over my hips, my ribs, his fingers tracing a line along my skin. It made me want to stay in bed all morning.
“You have to stop that,” I said. “I have to start dinner.”
“It’s only eight,” he muttered, his lips tickling my skin.
“We’ve got a lot to get done by one o’clock.”
He sighed, pretending to be hurt. “I’ll be glad when the holidays are over. I miss keeping you in bed all day.”
“Hang in there, champ.” I slid out of his grasp and went into the bathroom to get ready.
~~~~
As I made my way down the hall toward the kitchen, something in the living room caught my eye. The Scrabble board was still spread out on the coffee table, along with a couple of beer bottles, my lowball glasses and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. A giant comforter was piled on the sofa, two feet sticking out from under it, propped on the arm of the couch. An arm stuck out from the other end of the pile of fabric, a hand nearly touching the floor.
Andre.
I chuckled to myself as I continued into the kitchen and started the coffee. It wasn’t all that surprising he’d ended up on my couch.
The smell of coffee roused Kate. A vent near the stove led straight up to her bedroom, so the coffee maker became an alarm clock of sorts. As the coffee finished perking, her footsteps quickened on the floorboards above. By the time it was ready, Kate sauntered into the room as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Have a nice night?” I asked.
Wearing striped pajama bottoms with an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, she glanced at me as she filled her mug. Her hair was mussed, her eyes half open.
“You must have,” I said, “judging by the fact there’s a sheriff out cold on my sofa.”
Her eyes widened, and she stopped mid-sip. “There’s a sheriff on your sofa?”
“Yes.”
“How many times have you gotten to say that in your life?”
“Something you want to tell me?”
She sipped her coffee. “Nope.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I thought he was going to leave early,” she said, “before anybody got up. Since he’s so stealthy and all.”
I shrugged. “You must have worn him out. With the Scrabble and whatnot.”
“There was no whatnot. It was late when we finished, and we were both a bit hammered.”
“It’s fine.”
“An officer of the law cannot drive around blotto.”
“I said it’s fine.” I grinned.
She winced, taking a gulp of coffee. “This isn’t awkward, is it?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
I smirked. “It’s not awkward for me.”
Jack came around the corner, his hair standing straight up.
“Hey, Kate,” he said, heading for the coffee. “I think you left something in the living room.”
Kate turned pink down to the collar of her shirt. She hardly ever blushed.
“I’m going back upstairs now,” she said, slinking out of the kitchen.
Jack grinned. “That was interesting.”
“We have T-minus five hours,” I said. “Would you go wake the sheriff? Tell him if he wants to stay all morning, he needs to get in here and help me with some casseroles.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
An hour later, the four of us were going full speed in the tiny kitchen. We’d put a green bean casserole in to bake and started some rice cooking. Andre made gravy from the turkey stock, his great-grandmother’s spicy recipe, and Kate was mixing up a chocolate pie. She’d made a chart of which dishes needed to go into the oven at what time, and buzzed like a hummingbird as she set up a “tablescape” on the dining room table.
She and Andre kept tripping over each other like dancers just a half beat off-rhythm. They stammered apologies and shared furtive glances between the chopping of tomatoes and frying of sausage.
Just before noon, Josie came by with Buck and Lucille. She’d insisted on coming early to help since I wouldn’t let her host the whole dinner at her house. Buck was doing better, but she still didn’t want to leave him for long periods of time. He could get around the house all right, but he grimaced with pain when he lifted anything, including himself. Since Josie had been handling the store, I knew she wouldn’t have time or energy to get her house ready for guests. Seeing them that day, I was glad I’d insisted they come to my house instead.
“Where’s Toph?” Jack asked Lucille. His tone was bristly.
“He’s coming a little later. He needed to pick up something.”
He gave her a hard look. “What’s he going to pick up on Christmas?”
She lowered her voice. “You know, like something to bring you for having us over. He just wanted to do something nice for y’all.”
With that, she went into the living room and helped Buck get comfortable in the recliner.
Jack stared after her, as if he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.
As much as I wished against it, this was going to be one awkward dinner.
~~~~
Josie brought a cake and a fruit salad into the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?” she asked me.
Andre, who had started icing the carrot cake across the room, held the spatula out toward Kate so she could have a taste—and then nudged it closer so it got icing on her nose. I laughed, and she smacked him on the shoulder as she dabbed at her nose. They shared a secret grin.
“Sure,” I said to Josie. “You want to make those famous biscuits of yours?”
“I’d love to,” she said, looking relieved. Josie was not a woman who liked to sit still. She liked to be helping.
“I’ll keep an eye on Pop,” Lucille called over her shoulder as she headed to the TV. “Let’s see if there’s a parade on…”
At about quarter to one, the doorbell rang. Bella barked from her spot in the living room and inched toward the hallway, her head cocked. When I got to the door, I realized I still had my frilly apron on.
George stood on the doorstep, holding a casserole dish.
“Hi, George!” I said. “Merry Christmas.”
“I brought that prize-winning pie,” he said.
He hardly looked like the same man, dressed now in pressed slacks, a sweater vest and a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows. It had finally cooled off enough that it almost felt like winter.
I led him to the kitchen and introduced him to everyone, then took him into the living room where the TV was still showing parades and brass bands. He commented on the mantle, an addition to the room that Buck had made out of reclaimed beams from an old barn, and I knew they’d be fast friends.
When the doorbell rang again, Jack went to the door.
“Hey, man,” he said. “Glad you made it.”
Zane came around the corner, carrying a paper grocery bag against his chest.
“Hey, Enza,” he said. “Long time, no see.”
I hugged him, and he stiffened for a split second before relaxing. I hadn’t seen him since the summer, back when he checked me over for injuries. He was a firefighter at Jack’s station, but he was also a medic.
“I hope it’s not out of line to bring booze,” Zane said.
“Of course not,” Jack said.
“Eggnog is festive, right?” Zane said, adjusting his Clark Kent glasses. His green reindeer sweater was now retro enough to be cool again.
“
Come on,” Jack said, steering him into the kitchen. “Let’s make a test batch.”
They buzzed around me as I finished scooping the potatoes into a dish.
Andre swiped a roasted potato from the bowl. “Is that everybody?” he asked.
I nudged Lucille and whispered, “Is he coming?”
“I don’t know what’s taking him so long,” she said, avoiding Jack’s hard stare. “But don’t wait for him.”
It wasn’t until we all sat down at the table that I thought about Vergie. We were seated at the huge table in her formal dining room, a room Jack had convinced me I might enjoy using more than I anticipated. I’d never been one to throw parties, but as I sat there in the candlelight, watching everyone chat as they passed dishes of potatoes and cranberries, I thought, This is what family is supposed to be like. This is what it’s like when they don’t leave you. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had that many people in my home, but it was a feeling I didn’t want to forget.
I sat at one end of the table, Jack at the other. He winked at me, and my heart swelled. I liked the sight of him at the opposite end of the table, like he belonged there, holding things together.
~~~~
Not long after we started eating, Bella barked from under the table and ran to the front door.
I stood, and Lucille jumped up like she’d been hit with a live wire.
“Let me,” she said. When she opened the door, I heard Toph’s voice, loud and sharp, and then hers, more subdued.
I couldn’t make out the words, but she sounded irritated. Jack frowned. I shook my head ever so slightly and mouthed, “Please don’t.”
Zane glanced at Kate, seemingly enthralled with the way she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He was smitten, like every guy who drifted into Kate’s orbit.
I rose from the table and walked into the hallway. Lucille was speaking in a clipped, hushed tone. Toph frowned at her and moved to take her wrist.
When I greeted him, he withdrew his hand and turned to me, smiling a little too wide.
“Enza, so sorry I’m late.” He handed me a small brown shopping bag. “I brought you these.”
I took the bag and looked inside.
“Belgian truffles,” he said. “And my mom’s favorite Pinot.”
“Thank you, Toph.” I eased past them into the kitchen and set the bag on the table, then led them to the dining room.
“Everybody, this is Toph,” Lucille said. “Toph, you know most everybody, except Zane there, and George.” Her voice was cool and even, like everything was normal.
They each nodded at the sound of their names. Toph gave a curt nod in response. He met my gaze for a brief second and then flopped into his chair. Lucille took a long drink from her glass of tea.
Jack glared at Toph from across the table, gripping his fork so tightly it made me flinch.
I pictured him leaping from his chair like a tiger, grabbing Toph by the scruff of the neck and dragging him out into the yard. By the look on Jack’s face, he was picturing something similar.
But he wouldn’t actually make a scene in front of everyone. Would he?
Though I wasn’t a religious person, I made a silent plea that Jack would keep his promise to me.
“I’m starving,” Toph said, reaching for the nearest casserole. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He heaped a spoonful onto his plate. As we passed him each dish, he did the same, a graceless thwack echoing down the table. “And I thought Luce lived in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “I almost never found this place.”
Lucille sighed. “Well, you tracked us down,” she said.
Toph guffawed, like that was immensely funny. Then he pulled his napkin from the table and draped it in his lap with a flourish.
“This looks like a picture in a magazine,” he said to me. He’d leaned close, like he intended to whisper, but his voice boomed in my ear.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Like what’s-her-name, the one that had the show and went to jail,” he said.
“It’s a lovely spread,” George said. “It does look like a picture, Enza.”
I smiled at George, and he winked, like he thought he might defuse whatever was about to explode in our corner of the dining room.
“Margot?” Toph said, taking another huge forkful. “Marnie?” Half of the potatoes on his fork fell back onto the plate with a splat.
Jack looked at me, taking a long drink of his wine.
“Martha!” Toph said, banging his fist on the table. “That was it.”
Lucille glared at him, then nudged him and whispered, “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?”
He paused, another forkful of potatoes inches from his face. “I just got here, babe. Can it wait a few?” He took a big bite and said, “Is there parmesan in here? These are great!”
Kate said something at the opposite end of the table, drawing attention away from him. Bless her and her art of distraction.
“Now,” Lucille said. She stood, and Toph dropped his fork with a clatter.
“Oops,” he said. “Butter fingers.”
He slid his chair back, his napkin falling to the floor as he stood. He followed Lucille down the hall into the kitchen, saying, “What’s going on? I thought you wanted me to come over.”
After a couple of minutes, I said, “Does anyone want more tea?” No one said a word, but I went to the kitchen to get the tea pitcher.
Lucille had Toph cornered by the sink, her back to me. Right as I stepped through the door, she said to him, “Are you high?”
He laughed. She blanched when she saw me.
“Just came for the tea,” I said, “Everything OK in here?” As I filled the pitcher, Toph pulled a glass from the cabinet and opened the carton of eggnog Zane had brought.
“Great,” Lucille said. “My boyfriend’s baked. I can’t believe you drove here like that.”
“Babe,” he said. “You need to relax. You want me to make you a drink?”
“No,” she said, as he reached for the rum.
He filled the lowball glass half with rum. “You need a smoke?”
As he added the eggnog, a splash of it fell from the carton and hit the counter with a plunk that seemed to echo through the room and split the air between us.
“You brought that with you?” she shrieked.
He fished in his pocket. “I might need another one myself. You’re stressing me out with all this yelling.”
“Oh my God,” Lucille said. “You’re an idiot.”
“Chill out,” he said, drawing out each syllable as if even his tongue was lazy. “How else do people get through the holidays?” He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek.
Lucille swiped the joint from his hand. He frowned, staring at his empty fingers as if he couldn’t quite calculate why there was space between them. Then he took a swig of the eggnog and groaned.
“Rude,” he said. “I told you I’d share.”
“There’s a sheriff sitting across the table from you,” Lucille said, her face reddening. “Idiot.” She shoved the joint into the pocket of her jeans.
“It’s OK,” I said to her. But what I thought was, Why didn’t you let him put it back in his pocket? If Toph carried on like this, Andre might get that opportunity to arrest him after all.
“See?” Toph said. “Not everybody gets wound super tight on the holidays, babe. I bet the sheriff likes to party too. I mean, it’s Mardi Gras every day down here, right?” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Which one is he, again?”
Lucille covered her face with her hand.
“How about some coffee?” I said to Toph. I wasn’t sure anything could straighten him out, with all the depressants teaming up in his bloodstream right now, but anything was worth a try.
“Yeah, sure. Soon as I finish my nog.” He laughed, doubled over. “What kind of word is that, anyway? Nog!”
“Maybe we should eat out on the porch,” Lucille said to me. “So we can lay low.”<
br />
He hooted with laughter, shuffling back down the hall to the dining room. I heard a clatter as he sat down, the sound of a fork dropping onto a plate, and Lucille looked like she was waiting for the earth to implode.
“I’m sorry, Enza,” she said. “I should have known this would happen when he was gone so long.”
“We’ll fix this,” I said. “Grab that ice bucket, will you?”
She followed me into the dining room and we refilled the glasses while Toph asked George what it was like to be a “ranger dude.”
Jack stood and walked over to Toph, taking the basket of biscuits with him. He set them on the table and leaned down close to Toph’s ear.
“Why don’t we go outside for a minute,” Jack suggested calmly, as if he’d just asked him to pass him the gravy.
I felt the room tilt as I watched Jack. Lucille’s eyes widened, and I prayed Jack wasn’t going to force her into a corner right here and now.
“Dude, I’m starving,” Toph said, grabbing a biscuit. “And George just got to the good part.”
Jack glanced at me, and then went back to his chair.
When I got to Jack’s end of the table, I dropped an ice cube into his glass and saw him exchange a look with Andre. There was the plink of another ice cube, and Jack turned to look at me. This is when I was certain he loved me: I knew he wanted nothing more than to drag Toph out into the yard by his ear, then drive him to the state line and leave him there. But he didn’t do it because he knew it would embarrass me in front of everyone I cared about—and he’d sworn to not make Lucille defend Toph against us.
And so Jack sat at the end of the table, still as an oak, and simply raised an eyebrow. That look meant he was waiting for me to indicate what I needed from him.
“Could you help me in the kitchen a minute?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said, his voice pleasant.
When we were out of earshot, he said, “What the hell is happening, Enza?”
“Please,” I said, touching his arm. “I know you want to pound him into a million pieces. But let’s get through dinner, and then I can ask him to leave.”
Bayou, Whispers from the Past: A Novel Page 15