Once too often he’d gotten so hung up on the work he’d forgotten a message brought by his Wendy. Vivian had planned a special supper for the three of them. By the time he remembered and got back to Rosebank, a note on the kitchen counter gave instructions for reheating a plate Vivian had left in the refrigerator. He had gone to their bedroom but it was dark and Vivian didn’t answer him when he said her name. He felt unwelcome.
The next couple of nights he hadn’t been too much earlier getting home, and each time he’d slid into bed beside Vivian, hoping she would break the silence. Why should she? She’d heard every excuse in the book for being left alone.
Last night he hadn’t gone home at all. He slept at the office instead. There were clean uniforms there and he’d picked up the other things he needed.
Three times today he’d called her and three times Charlotte had picked up her daughter’s cell phone. Charlotte was “So pissed with you, Spike. Not that it’s any of my business if you choose to ruin your marriage.”
His eyes stung. He took out the pack of Marlboros he’d bought, looked at them and threw them on the chair beside his. That would really be a smart move, to take up smokes because he didn’t have what it took to figure out what the hell was happening to his life.
He’d go home and insist Vivian talk to him, dammit. She could be difficult in her own way. So he wasn’t always a saint, well, neither was she.
Giving the praying stuff a shot first couldn’t hurt—if he could figure out how to do it right.
Vivian prayed with Wendy every night before she went to sleep. He’d always avoided joining them because he felt out of place.
You dumb shit. All he would have had to do was sit beside them and listen. That would be good for Wendy and make Vivian so happy. Making her happy took so little.
He took off his Stetson and instantly realized he shouldn’t be wearing it inside a church. Even he knew that much. He held the hat between his knees and scrubbed a hand through his short hair. This had to stop. He’d turned himself into a disaster. How could he give his job what it needed if he couldn’t do right by his wife and find out what he’d done to screw up so bad? Not just the last straw over the supper, but what it was she needed from him and didn’t get.
Wendy’s mother had left him for a weight lifter who needed a woman to admire his body. Spike had tried with her but the fool woman just walked out the door one day, leaving Wendy with Homer, and never came back. And for this small mercy, he was grateful.
See, he remembered something about prayers.
No, no, no, he wasn’t going there with the guilt over why Wendy’s mother really left. She went because she was too young, too selfish and because she couldn’t control what went on in her pants. This time was different. This time he’d neglected his way right out of Vivian’s graces.
“Okay,” he muttered, bowing his head. “I’m goin’ to have to make the best of what I can manage for now. Maybe later I’ll have a word with Cyrus.” His blood ran cold at the thought.
Silence could be a prayer. He’d heard that. With an elbow on one thigh and his forehead propped on the heel of his hand, Spike listened to that silence. The candles sizzled just a little. The wind that kept flirting with the town had set up a dance with trees outside the building and branches swept the little window with the saintly type on it.
Night never could quite get the hang of quiet around here.
“I’m sorry for being a doggone fool,” he muttered. “If you gimme a hand to clean up my own mess, I’ll figure out how to do things right from now on.”
Panic grasped his throat. “Now, that wasn’t supposed to be some sort of deal. I should have said I’m going to do my best in future and it would be nice if you could help me out.”
Holy…Crying wasn’t in his bag of tricks, but the stinging in his eyes got worse. He squeezed his lids shut, bent farther forward and used his spare arm to wrap his middle tight.
Footsteps came along the side aisle toward the chapel. Spike shot to his feet and backed to the wall, his hand hovering over his gun.
“Spike. Are you here?”
Vivian had come. He turned hot, cold and hot again so fast his skin couldn’t decide if it should sweat. He found his voice. “Careful out there, Vivian. The lighting’s bad. I’ll be right there.”
“I’m already here,” she said, pushing open the gate and entering the little chapel.
Dear Lord, when had she gotten so pale? And the gray smudges beneath her very blue eyes? When had they arrived?
She’d come to tell him it was over.
“Vivian. Don’t say a word, darlin’. Please sit down. You don’t look so good and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
She did sit down and bow her head. Her straight black hair slid forward.
“Look,” he said. “I’ve been sittin’ here thinkin’ and figurin’ out just how I turned everything into such a doggone foul-up. I never meant to, Vivian, honest I didn’t.”
“Hush,” she said finally. “Are those your cigarettes?”
Lying wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Yes.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“I know.”
She looked up at him. “So why buy them?”
He drew up his shoulders. “Just one more bit of proof that I’m an ass. Other people seem to get some peace or somethin’ from them. Thought I’d try.”
“Did you?”
“Nope. Pack isn’t open. Never could inhale, anyway. The stuff always choked me. Hard to be cool with the other kids when you’re gagging your guts up.”
“Spike Devol, you are an ass.”
He opened his mouth but forgot if he’d planned to say something. Vivian never spoke to him like that—or not until now.
She let her head lean back and closed her eyes. Wind or not it was hot and air felt rationed. Her yellow sundress had a full skirt that settled around her pretty legs and distracted him. Vivian was the loveliest woman in the world and she’d settled for a small-town deputy sheriff who didn’t have the smarts to take real good care of the best thing that ever happened to him—in addition to Wendy.
“You’re tired, darlin’,” he told her quietly. “You go ahead and say whatever you feel like sayin’ to me. I deserve it.”
“You’re an ass because you make stuff up in your head and let it become true to you. Ever heard of opening up? Coming clean? Just plain laying out what’s on your mind?”
He felt a little hope but buried it at once. He knew what happened to a man who got overconfident too easily.
“What in goodness’ name made you tell Wendy you’d be home in time for the supper I told her to mention to you, then not come?”
Spike didn’t feel so good himself. He pulled a chair close to hers and sat down facing her. “Time got away from me and when I did start for home I only had to come back into town because all hell’s broken loose here. We’ve got trouble around the clock.”
“I know you have. Have you forgotten Ellie’s a friend of mine, too?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“It was so late by then. I figured you’d be asleep and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Asleep, hmm? My husband didn’t come home so I just went to sleep. I couldn’t have been wide awake and praying he’d call and tell me he was safe.”
“Ah, Vivian, don’t.”
“Do you think I didn’t hear you come to the bedroom door, open it, then go away again? What was that about?”
“I did everythin’ wrong.”
She sighed.
“Vivian!” He glanced at the black outside the window. “What are you thinkin’ of, coming here at night on your own?”
“I was thinking of looking for my husband. I haven’t really seen him for days.”
“I have called, a lot of times.” He had to put up some defense.
No, he didn’t, he just had to navigate the storm and come out with his hull in one piece.
&nbs
p; “And my mother answered. I told her to because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“But you just told me off for not callin’.”
“The first night.”
“Oh. Vivian, you shouldn’t have driven here on your own. You could have got me on my cell and I’d have been right there. Boy, would I have been there. Wendy must wonder what’s up, too.”
“Nope, she knows men can be asses, too. I love you, Spike. You’re kind. You’re the best family man a woman could hope for. And you’re sexy as hell.”
Spike stared at her through narrowed eyes.
“You don’t like me telling you those things?”
“Hell, yes. I’m just a man. I love you sayin’ those things. You couldn’t love me as much as I love you. I thought you wanted to be finished with me.”
“From a misunderstanding? Because you made a little mistake then set about making it bigger and bigger?”
He felt foolish, and so turned on he shamed himself. But she’d had that effect on him ever since they first met. “How would it be if I—”
“Just fine, Spike,” she said. “If you made a habit of making sure whether or not I’m in a teensy snit before you start wondering if you should get a lawyer, I think that would be wonderful.”
He put his hat on top of the Marlboros. “This is a bit sudden, but I’d like to kiss you, cher. If I don’t get to touch you soon I’m goin’ to dry up.”
She gave him one of her stern looks that never quite held. “Just as long as you make it an appropriate kiss for the surroundings.”
“It’ll be so appropriate,” he told her, and slipped from his chair to kneel beside her crossed legs. She smiled and no trace of the smart act remained.
He stroked her bare arms and shuddered at the feel of her. Vivian rubbed the back of a hand over his stubbly face and looked at him as if she was crazy about having her fingers scratched.
“We are never going to let this happen again,” she said, and leaned forward to run her fingers back through his hair. She held the sides of his head and touched her lips to his.
The way she made him feel had only gotten more intense. He returned the rush of small, intense kisses and inclined his head to nip at her neck and her ear. “Do you think it would be a sin to make love here?” he asked.
She waited until he raised his head to look at her. “Are you too tired for a wild night in our room?”
“It would be a sin, huh?”
“I doubt it, but with what I have in mind we could get pretty bruised up around here, Spike.”
He loved her wicked grins. “Good thinkin’. Let’s go.”
She stopped him from getting up and the wide smile disappeared. “Maybe this is better than some old special supper at Rosebank.”
“Your choice,” he said, making sure he didn’t look too pleased with himself. “I’m not sure I can wait till we get back, either.”
“Whoa, boy. See if you can get your mind off your favorite subject. How long have we been married?”
“Two years,” he said at once. “Why?”
“Don’t you think it’s about time something stuck?”
There were times when they needed an interpreter. “I think everything has stuck, Vivian. And if I can keep control of my negative imagination it’ll keep stickin’ more and more.”
“Spike, I meant isn’t it time something of you and something of me got stuck? Now, that’s a perfectly horrible way to put it. Forgive me, this is all new to me.”
Goose bumps crawled up his spine and he let her decide what to say next.
“It’s happened and I hope you’ll be as happy as I am. You did tell me it was what you wanted, it just didn’t happen right away.”
“It?” He couldn’t control his smile.
“Him or her. I’m about ten weeks pregnant.”
He cried.
“Spike? Honey?” Vivian cried right with him. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’. I’m happy is all, and blubberin’ like a kid. Thank you, thank you, Vivian.”
“Thank you. I’m so over the moon I can’t even think straight. If I could have we wouldn’t just have gone through a piece of silliness.”
He got to his feet, slammed his hat down hard on his head and lifted his wife in his arms. “I’m takin’ you home and there won’t be any wild lovin’, my girl. You’ve got to be looked after.”
“I don’t need to be carried.” Vivian poked him hard. “Try that nonsense on me and I’ll make you suffer. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m healthy as a horse, Reb says so. I asked all kinds of questions and she said—well, she told me there’s no reason not to do whatever we like however we like it.”
“You asked Reb about that?” He wouldn’t know how to face the woman.
“She’s a doctor.”
“Mmm. Off we go.”
He carried her from the chapel and along the side aisle.
A tall figure emerged from the vestibule. At least Homer knew enough to get the hat off his head. “You two through with this lovers’ spat or whatever you call it when you’re already married?”
“Homer? What are you doin’ here? Interferin’ as usual?”
“I brought your wife because I knew you wouldn’t want her to come alone. Now I’m leavin’. Can you be trusted not to mess up again?”
“Guess we won’t tell you the news, then,” Spike said.
Homer stuck out his chin. “What news?” Creases from a lifetime of hard work in the elements crazed his face. But he was still a handsome son of a gun and tough as tacks—in most respects.
Spike pretended to consider whether or not to answer his father.
“You’re going to be a grandfather again,” Vivian said, and gave Spike a poke.
“Well,” Homer said. “I’ll be an alligator’s bellyache. If that don’t beat all.”
20
Dancing in the shop might not be appropriate but Ellie couldn’t make herself ask Wazoo to stop.
“If I could be anythin’ in this world, what would I be?” Wazoo sang, gyrating between mostly empty tables in the café. “Why, I’d be a dog, that’s what I’d be. A good man’s dog and feel his hands on me.”
Ellie caught Paul Nelson’s eye and they shared a grin. He tapped the table to Wazoo’s beat.
It was the first light moment since Joe left that morning, whistling, his briefcase in one hand and a scrambled egg sandwich in the other. He had relaxed. As the days passed since that creature broke her windows, they all had. They thought the threat was under control. She put a hand to her throat and had an urge to scream. Nothing was under control and that man was out there waiting for another chance at her. All any of them had, Joe, Cyrus, Spike and Guy, was a notion they liked the sound of: Charles Penn only wanted to terrify her.
They had no proof.
If there was someone feeding Penn information about her movements, who was it, and why?
“You okay?”
Ellie jumped. Paul had come to the counter without her noticing that he’d moved at all. She said, “Fine. Just wondering if we’re in for a big storm. It’s barely past lunchtime but it’s getting dark already.”
“It’s the sky,” he said. “Looks like it’s trying to fall down on us.”
He’d brought his coffee mug with him and Ellie topped it up before he returned to his table. He had come in for lunch each day since she had reopened. The laptop he brought with him didn’t get much use and she had a feeling Paul might be doing his bit to keep an eye on her—otherwise he’d be working at Rosebank or at All Tarted Up. Jilly had confided to Ellie that Paul’s deadline on one of his travel books was tight and he didn’t have a lot of spare time.
His concern was welcome.
Jim Wade had been absent for a couple of days but he’d come in today talking about his client’s growing interest in buying property in or around Toussaint. He, too, smiled while he watched Wazoo’s dramatic performance. There was no denying that the woman could sing and dance.
; She paused, arms outflung. “Anybody need anythin’? Nope? Well, if I could be anything in this world…” She’d piled her heavy black hair on top of her head and secured it with a comb decorated with pink rosebuds and crystals. A gray, floaty dress was a complete break with her habit of wearing black and mostly lace at all times.
“That’s enough entertainment for one mornin’,” she said, bowing gracefully in response to a small but enthusiastic show of applause. “With Ellie’s blessin’, I’m holdin’ a clinic upstairs today. If you know anyone with animal problems, sad critters, mad critters, mean critters, psycho critters…suicidal dogs or snakes, gators with attitude, cats with complexes, well then you just get ‘em right on in here to Wazoo, who sees everythin’ and knows how to cure all them woes.”
“You should get your hands on that Boa of Vivian Devol’s,” Paul said. “That’s one mixed-up little piece of dog nuisance.” He had pulled his chair awkwardly close to the table to accommodate a stranger who sat behind him, a man who had his own chair all the way into Paul’s space.
One of the many things Ellie loved about people in Louisiana was the way they put themselves out to be agreeable, most of the time. Not that Paul was Louisianan.
“All Boa needs is respect,” Wazoo said. “Little Chihuahua like that spends her life fightin’ the bad mouthin’.”
Ellie left the counter and went to the sitting area at the far end of the book stacks where four ladies quietly conducted their reading group. “Everyone happy?” she asked. “Can I bring more coffee or something to eat? Jilly sent over a plantain pie that smells to die for.”
The ladies shifted in their chairs and cast long glances at one another. “How about we have ourselves a piece of that before we leave?” Min Boyer suggested to her friends, who muttered what a great idea that was.
Ellie caught some not-too-subtle motions and realized all of them held their books closed on their laps and mostly obscured by clasped hands. “What do you think of your book this month?” she said.
“Hah.” Wazoo arrived. “They hidin’ what they got there. Min had me place the order when you were off. They’re Sonja Elliot fans now.”
Now You See Him Page 17