Moonlight in Paris

by Pamela Hearon

  A flush of heat spread through Faith, but with it came an awareness of the cool dirt beneath her feet, which were firmly planted in a yard that belonged to her and her family.

  Fight it would be.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Sue. It’s me. A spider scared me.”

  “Faith?”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised, considering who she was speaking with. Nevertheless, Faith was startled to see a pair of arms snaking through the middle of the thick bushes, pushing them aside, and leaving her completely exposed to her neighbor’s gawk.

  “What in the world are you doing here at nine forty-five on Sunday morning...in your pajamas? Why aren’t you at Sunday School?”

  “Why aren’t you at Sunday School?” Oh, that was sure the perfect, snappy comeback.

  “I’m not feeling well.” Sue sniffed as if she needed to add evidence. A sneeze followed, which couldn’t have been faked.

  It ran through Faith’s thoughts that she could beg off the same way. She could say she wasn’t feeling well, which was actually the truth, and had come to Lacy’s house so Sawyer wouldn’t catch it. But, any way she tried to spin it would be a lie. And when the news broke, which it might’ve already done, she’d be caught in her lie—even if the truth was nobody’s business.

  She’d told Sawyer she didn’t care who knew. She was tired of living a lie. No use starting a new one now.

  “I’m going to live here for a while, Sue.” She didn’t have to try to keep emotion out of her voice. It was dull and lifeless with no effort needed.

  “Why? Is something wrong with your house?”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong with the house.”

  “Well, I don’t understand why y’all would move out of your house that’s only—what? Twenty years old?—into this place that obviously needs so much work. It’ll drive Sawyer crazy. He doesn’t have time now to take care of everything at the church that needs doing, much less fix this place up.”

  “Sawyer isn’t moving, Sue. Just me.”

  “What? Do you mean to tell me...?” Aghast was too light a term to describe the woman’s face. “Wait just a minute.”

  The arms jerked from the shrubs, allowing the stems to shoot back upright into their intended positions. Before Faith could get her wits about her, Sue had made her way to the end of the hedge and was coming through the gate attached to the side of the house.

  Faith met her by the Mr. Lincoln tea rose—Lacy’s favorite.

  “Do you mean to tell me you and Sawyer are separated?” Sue’s voice was a hodgepodge of emotion with shades of disbelief, incredulity, curiosity and a tinge of unchecked amusement all balled together.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Why?” Sue’s eyes narrowed and anger took top billing. “Has he been messing around on you?”

  “No.” Faith shook her head emphatically, wanting to squelch that rumor before it got wings. “Never. Sawyer’s the most loyal, trustworthy husband who ever lived. He would never even think about cheating.”

  Sue crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her bicep. “What is it then? I mean, why else do couples separate?”

  “Couples separate for a lot of reasons, Sue. Sawyer and I have some things we need to straighten out, and I needed space to think. And time alone,” she added.

  If she picked up on the hint, Sue chose to ignore it. “Well, who all knows? I mean, is he going to make a public announcement this morning at church? The congregation has the right to know if their preacher and his wife are going to get a divorce.”

  “I didn’t say anything about divorce.” Faith interlocked her fingers to keep from lashing out at the silly ninny.

  “No, of course you didn’t. But if y’all are separated, certainly divorce is a possibility. Anybody with any sense knows that.”

  Faith took a deep breath, her head filling with the scent of Lacy’s Mr. Lincolns. Her mother-in-law had lived by Sue for thirty-plus years and was one of the few people who truly cared about the woman. The thought cooled her temper and guided her words. “I pray it won’t come to that. And I don’t think it will, but whatever the outcome, Sawyer and I need the prayers of the community. And we need privacy.”

  Irritation flared in Sue’s eyes as her mouth clamped shut. At least it had stopped her from saying whatever her next comment was going to be. “Privacy isn’t something Taylor’s Grove’s very good at. We’re all family here. We care about each other.” She sneezed again, and pulled a tissue from the pocket of her khakis to wipe her nose, which was beginning to look raw.

  “As long as people let that care guide their actions, I can’t ask for anything more,” Faith said.

  “Yes, well...” Sue looked at her watch. “I’ll leave you alone. Give you some of that privacy you need.”

  She turned and practically sprinted from the yard, leaving Faith to wonder why Sue had bolted the way she did.

  Following a hunch, Faith went back into the house, changed out of her pajamas and took a seat in the living room next to the window.

  Just as she suspected, Sue and her husband, Ed, left their house at 10:17 a.m. Their hurried pace gave away that they were trying hard to make the ten-thirty service at Taylor’s Grove Church despite Sue’s cold and the old people she’d be putting at risk with it.

  As to what message they would hear, Faith couldn’t be sure, but somehow Sawyer would manage to bring love into it.

  She headed to the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. She would need the caffeine. When church let out, her day was going to get very busy.

  * * *

  “I’M TELLING YOU, EMMA, if I’d made a list of things to include in my most perfect day, I could check most of them off. Finding the right Jacques Martin would be the only thing without a mark in front of it.”

  Emma’s dreamy sigh came across clearly. “Mmm. I’m thrilled for you, and jealous down to my star-spangled toenails.”

  “Oh, that’s right! Tuesday’s the Fourth of July. It’s weird being in a place that doesn’t celebrate it.” That Garrett had provided her with the best fireworks she’d ever experienced ran through her mind, but she didn’t voice it. She’d gushed enough about him already. Any more and Emma would get the wrong idea.

  “But you’ll be there for Bastille Day, right? That’s sort of the same thing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be my last day here. I fly out the morning of the fifteenth.” Her gaze strayed across the terrace to Garrett’s flat, where she watched the lights wink out in Dylan’s bedroom, and followed Garrett’s progression as he appeared in the foyer, headed toward his kitchen. Her stomach knotted and she changed the subject away from her leaving. “Are you going to the cabin for the Fourth?”

  “I, uh.” Emma coughed loudly into the phone. “Sorry! Something went down the wrong way. Your parents cancelled the picnic this year.”

  “Cancelled? Why?” The July Fourth picnic at the cabin on the lake had never been cancelled. It was a tradition.

  “They’re calling for the weather to be bad.” Emma’s explanation didn’t make sense.

  “If it rains, we’ve always just moved the picnic into the cabin.”

  “But this year, there’s a chance of some really nasty weather. You know, tornadoes and stuff.”

  “Oh.” Tara wasn’t sure what “and stuff” referred to. Garrett appeared in his living room, sipping a glass of wine. He leaned over and picked something up from his coffee table, and a second later, strains of Miles Davis drifted through Tara’s open window. “Garrett is so hot, Emma. I wish you could meet him.”

  “Well, maybe some time when he’s in St. Louis, we’ll run up there and do some shopping.”

  “Yeah, maybe we’ll do that.” He disappeared into his bedroom, and Tara’s mind shifted back to the cancelled picnic. “Tornadoes and stuff, h
uh?”

  “Yeah. Hey, uh, I hate to cut this off, but my cycling group is riding the Tunnel Hill Trail today.”

  “No problem. Talk to you soon.”

  “Hope tomorrow’s even better than today for you! Bye!”

  “Bye.”

  Tara stared at the phone for a minute. Something was up about the picnic. There was an edge to Emma’s voice.

  Mama had said Dad was down. Was he so depressed they would cancel the picnic?

  She hit Trenton’s number.

  “Hey, pinky.”

  She laughed. Garrett and Dylan had been so accepting of her deformity, she’d almost forgotten about it while she’d been there. “Hey, bro. I was just talking to Emma, and she said the picnic was cancelled.”

  Trenton paused. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

  “But it’s never been cancelled before. If it stormed, we always just moved inside.”

  “Yeah, well, uh...tell me what you’ve seen since the last time we talked.”

  Was he changing the subject? “What is going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the last time I told you about my sightseeing, you told me your eyes were glazing over, but tonight, you want to know all about it. What gives, Trent? I feel like I’m getting the run—”

  “You’re fading out, sis. Hello?”

  Tara checked her connection. Five bars. “Quit messing with me, Trenton. Is everyth—”

  “Hello? Hello? Sorry, sis. I think I’ve lost you.”

  “But you’re coming in loud and clear.”

  Beep. Her phone read Call Ended. She called him back immediately, but it went straight to voice mail.

  More angry now than worried, she punched Thea’s number. It rang several times before going to voice mail. Was Thea avoiding her, too?

  The air seemed hot suddenly, so she stepped out onto the terrace.

  “You’re pulling your lip. What’s wrong?” Garrett was walking toward her with a glass of wine in each hand.

  She held her phone out. “My family.”

  His chin buckled in concern. “Is somebody sick?”

  “No.” She ran her thumb and middle finger into the hair at the top of her head, and flipped the sides out of her face. “They’ve cancelled the July Fourth picnic, which has never happened before, supposedly because of weather.”

  Garrett’s shrug suggested she was overreacting. “That sounds plausible.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She stuffed her phone into the pocket of her shorts. “I’m probably just being paranoid. You were right about my dad being bothered by my looking for Jacques Martin, though. I think the whole situation’s got him depressed.”

  Garrett held out a glass of wine to her. “Well, you’re here, and the die is cast, so just roll with it.”

  “I hope I don’t read ’em and weep.”

  He grinned. “That’s poker, not craps.”

  “Oh.” She took the glass he offered and tipped it in his direction. “Then let the good times roll.” She took a sip of the tongue-pleasing, full-bodied wine. Garrett’s wines were always superb. Or maybe it was the presence of the man who flavored the drink. “Speaking of which, I thought we decided it wouldn’t be smart to spend the evening together.”

  After the afternoon’s excursion, they’d returned to their respective flats, not wanting Dylan to get ideas about their time together. She’d stayed tucked away out of sight while they played their nightly game of catch and grilled their hot dogs.

  “He’s asleep. He won’t see us together.” Garrett’s lips on hers made acquiescence much easier. With a hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the bench beside his door.

  She helped him clear away the balls and gloves that littered the seat. “What if he wakes up?”

  “He won’t. He never does. The kid’s always been a sound sleeper.”

  As soon as they sat, Garrett’s arm went around her shoulder and pulled her close. She relaxed against him, his solidness and the wine making whatever was going on at home seem very far away. “I like Henri.”

  She felt the vibration of Garrett’s chuckle against her shoulder blade. “He likes you, too, but he had a hard time understanding what you were saying.”

  She laughed. “Nobody’s ever had to translate my English into regular English before. My kids at school are going to love this story.”

  “Henri’s been a good friend. He took a liking to me as soon as we met, and he adores Dylan. I’m anxious to hear what he has to say about you tomorrow.” He let loose with a growl, and his best Henri imitation. “Mon Dieu, Garrett, theese Tara, she has the voice of the angel but the look that ees hot as hell.”

  Tara giggled and pressed her palm to her hot face. “He’s quite the lady’s man, huh?”

  “If you made that plural, you got it right. Henri can charm the clothes off a woman with the raise of an eyebrow.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “You don’t do so bad yourself with that lazy, one-sided grin.”

  “Is that right?” Garrett sounded genuinely surprised. He leaned forward and looked her in the face. “Like this?” He did an exaggerated lift to the right side of his mouth that left a goofy expression on his face.

  Tara tried to stifle her laugh, but it burst out, along with some wine-colored spit that landed on Garrett’s nose. “Ack! I’m sorry!” The apology would’ve been more effective if she’d been able to control her laughter, which she couldn’t.

  Garrett closed his eyes and wiped his sleeve down his face, and his lips relaxed into a yummy, genuine smile. “It’s okay. We’ve exchanged spit, as I recall. Along with other bodily fluids.”

  There it was. One side of his mouth dropped, leaving the other raised in that look that made her insides squirm.

  His eyes locked with hers and darkened. “It didn’t work.”

  She cocked her head, holding his stare. “What didn’t work?”

  “Your clothes are still on.” He leaned forward, touching his lips to hers. She opened her mouth to him, tasting the wine that seemed to have grown sweeter on his tongue. He followed as she leaned back into the bench. They both found the side table and managed to set their glasses on it without ever breaking contact with their mouths.

  The kiss intensified when she ran her hands through his hair, pressing him close, inviting his tongue deeper. His arms encircled her with heat, on her neck, shoulder, breast. Reflexively, the small of her back came off the bench as she arched against him. He wasted no time accepting the offer, running his hand under her T-shirt and her bra, brushing her nipple with his thumb.

  She came up for air, reluctantly pulling her mouth away. He continued to kiss the side of her lips, her cheek, her jaw line, and down to her neck, still brushing her nipple, driving her insane with the light touch. She needed more. So much more.

  “We have to stop now,” she warned, “if we’re going to stop at all.”

  Garrett leaned his head back to look at her. His hand dropped from her breast, but the back of his fingers kept contact along her rib cage and stomach. “Why would we stop?”

  “Dylan.” The word came out on a gasp as he caught her other nipple between his fingers. “We don’t want him to get...oh! To get...the wrong idea.”

  “He’s sound asleep.” He kissed her eyelids tenderly. “And we could be, too, in a couple of hours.”

  Tara raised her lips to his. “Are you asking me to spend the night?”

  Garrett kissed her gently, and then backed his face away until they could actually focus on each other. His hand brushed her cheek. “I want you so badly. We can make love in my bed, and go to sleep in each other’s arms. I’ll set the alarm to wake us up and you can go back to your place before Dylan gets up. He won’t even know you stayed the night.”

  The c
hild would be in her charge all day tomorrow. If she was going to be on her best game, she needed a good rest tonight—and that wasn’t going to happen if she and Garrett stopped now. She would spend the rest of the night in turmoil, aching to have him inside her.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  He stopped to check on his son on their way to his bedroom.

  She went on ahead and was waiting, naked and more than ready, when he met up with her two minutes later.

  * * *

  “I CAN’T KEEP AVOIDING her calls, Mama. She’s going to figure out something’s up.”

  Faith had known that Thea would have the hardest time with the lie they were perpetrating on Tara. The two girls had always been close, had always shared everything. But she’d thought she could count on Trenton—Mr. I-can-keep-my-cool-in-all-situations. Apparently, he’d blown it, too—a fact that Thea had started their phone conversation with.

  “She might suspect, Thea, but she can’t know unless somebody tells her. I told her Sawyer was still having a hard time with things. Can’t you just reiterate that?” Faith rubbed her throbbing temple, certain that any more pressure in her life would cause it to rupture. She’d talked to far too many people today, trying to explain the separation Sawyer had announced from the pulpit without giving away intimate details. She didn’t need things with Tara to go awry now, too.

  Her younger daughter sounded close to tears. “I can try. But you know how she always finagles secrets out of me.”

  Faith knew all too well. Christmas presents. Surprise parties. No secret was safe if Thea got hold of it. If her oldest child had any inkling something was up, she could easily get the youngest to sing like a canary, without even having to bribe her with seed.

  “Can’t you just be too busy to talk to her?” Faith suggested.

  “And miss all the good stuff about the new guy?” Incredulity oozed over the line. “Not a chance.”

  “What new guy?” It was Faith’s turn to be incredulous. “Has Tara met somebody in Paris?”

  “Um...no. Of course not. I mean, they’re just neighbors.”

  Faith knew that once Thea started crawdadding, you were mere seconds away from getting the lowdown. She pressed in quickly, overwhelming her younger daughter with questions. “Tara’s involved with her neighbor? Dylan’s father? What’s his name? How do you know?”