Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series)

by Linda Joyce

  “All right.” Sadie sounded tentative. “I’ll go and get it myself.” The woman did an about-face like a well-trained soldier and left.

  As Branna turned, she spotted James at his desk through the sidelight window of the office. With one elbow resting on the desktop, he held the phone receiver to his ear as he talked, all the while fingering a silver object on his desk. His eyes were closed.

  She started to tap on the glass and wave, but his expression shifted to one of pain. A sharp stab hit her gut. What might she do to bring a smile to the lips that had sent tingles shooting all the way to her toes when they last touched hers?

  Chapter 18

  “Caroline, why are you calling me?” James demanded, wishing he’d never picked up the phone. Their relationship was years over, but their shared loss still connected them more than their family’s long relationship.

  “James Dallas Newbern, that gorgeous house you bought would have been ours. You haven’t invited me over. We would’ve raised our little Katie there.”

  He hated it when Caroline whined. She always used the Katie card when she wanted something. Caroline had not one nurturing bone in her body. That became crystal clear when she had demanded a full-time, live-in nanny for Katie, before the child had been born.

  “That’s the past.”

  “Only three years. Dr. Simpson says that people grieve in their own way and mine is taking longer than some, but not as long as some of his other patients.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates the weekly paycheck.” He figured the doctor would announce Caroline was healed or recovered or whatever as soon as her money ran out. He also heard the pout in her voice and could picture her stomping her foot. In the early stages of their relationship, he’d found her little pout cute. However, he’d grown to hate that about her by the time Katie was born.

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, James. After all, we were Katie’s parents.”

  It seemed so long ago, a different life. When they were a couple. A different time. He was a different man back then, and set on disproving the old saying, “You can take the man out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the man.” For the life of him now, he couldn’t remember why he thought that. There was nothing wrong with being successful, and being a country boy, too. He still wanted it all, career, family and his own home in the city, though he didn’t admit it to anyone.

  And, he’d mistakenly thought he’d have all of that when Caroline walked into his life, or rather she backed into it.

  Women drivers. He had backed out of a parking space, then she backed her car into his. It was during his college years. The campus police said they were both at fault. He’d offered to buy her a pizza to get her to drop the whole thing, there was barely a dent in either car. Her coy grins brought out the apples of her cheeks and showed off her dimples. Long curly blonde hair, crystal blue eyes. Everything to like. Their family had attended church together for years, but until then, he’d never really looked at her. That day, she batted her long lashes at him, and his hormones answered. After that, his obsession for her was beyond anything he understood.

  Looking back, if someone suggested the connection between them was the result of her being a vampire and his maker, he couldn’t argue with that. She had sucked the life out of him.

  Within a month, he’d bought a one-carat solitaire engagement ring. When he proposed, she said yes, but wanted a bigger diamond before the wedding. He promised her one as soon as he could afford it. Her mother insisted it would take a minimum of a year to plan a proper wedding, and pointedly suggested he have the new ring by then.

  The night of their engagement party, after they dined with a hundred well-wishers, he’d taken her to the river. Under the stars at the water’s edge with the soft lap of the water, they made love.

  What came next shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  Caroline waited until she was more than three months pregnant to tell him or their family. Her mother, the devout Southern Baptist, wanted to move up the wedding date, no grandchild of hers would be born out of wedlock, but Caroline’s will proved stronger. She demanded a couture gown in white and a wedding she’d always remember. She wouldn’t get married until after the baby was born.

  He always wondered if she’d done that to keep him dangling.

  The months were torturous. Caroline grew more contentious and demanding as her body changed and grew. At first, he chalked it up to hormones, pregnant women had those problems, but she acted as though she wasn’t pregnant. Whenever he tried to talk about their baby, Caroline would change the subject. She never even admitted her waist had spread. Denial. At a level he’d never seen before. Pregnancy brought out the worst in her. And, she never let him touch her again.

  Then Katie was born. Caroline wouldn’t even look at her.

  Yet, he was in love the minute the nurse put Katie in his arms. That first contact lasted a few moments, but he had bonded with her. He never wanted her to feel alone. He never wanted her to feel unloved. Never wanted her to have an apathetic mother. Maybe Caroline really couldn’t help it. According to her shrink, she was a complete narcissist. Caroline somehow misconstrued the diagnosis and considered it a high compliment.

  He and Caroline never married. Her true colors glowed during her pregnancy. He suggested counseling before they considered taking another step in the direction of marriage. Their pastor insisted on counseling, but Caroline refused.

  The worst of it was the day Katie came home from the hospital. Caroline acted as though she’d dropped a watermelon in a field and after that, it was someone else’s responsibility. Instead of a wedding, he and Caroline worked out a custody agreement with Katie living with him.

  His little Katie had almost made it to her first birthday.

  “James? Are you listening to me? James?”

  He picked up the polished silver rattle on his desk. Light glinted. A reminder of his daughter. Hard to believe Katie would have started preschool this year.

  “No, Caroline, I’m not. Not anymore.” He hung up. Katie might be gone, but he had other kids in his life. Kids with hopes and dreams. That’s what he loved about teaching. Helping others take another step on their journey.

  He grabbed a binder and a pen and left his office. In the past, the first day of classes always lifted his spirits. Maybe today it would be the same. He looked around. Sadie wasn’t at her desk. Usually, he let her know where he was headed. It was odd that she wasn’t there, but maybe she slipped away to make copies or visit the ladies’ room. He scribbled a note and left it for her.

  As the class before his let out, he slipped between small groups of students. Waving to the instructor wiping the white board clean, he took the middle seat in the back row of the room and waited.

  Students’ nervous chatter came with the first day of classes. For most, his class would be their first taste of college ever. He enjoyed the newbies, though the freshman that delayed starting college until fall often appeared more attentive. Something happened between high school graduation and their first day of community college that washed away half of their arrogance. Fall-starting students seemed to embrace a fresh view of the world.

  The incoming students found seats and paid him no attention, an old man in a class of late-aged teenagers. It didn’t surprise him that not one student sat in the front row. He tracked the time on his watch since the classroom clock hung on the wall behind him. When his watched showed a minute past nine fifteen, he stood up.

  “This is Communications 101, an entry-level first-year class,” he said. All eyes turned to him. He took his time making his way to the front of the room. The thud of his boots echoed in the silence as he walked behind his desk, then paced in front of the white board. He had their attention.

  When he turned to face his audience, they looked back with surprise, curiosity, and a few challenging stares.

  “You,” he barked, pointing to a young man slumped in his seat at the end of the second row. The student popped u
pright.

  “No sleeping in my class. Please close the door.”

  The young man obeyed and hurried from his seat.

  James scrawled his name with a blue marker, along with the name of the course on the whiteboard. He tapped the board to make his point. “This is my name, Dr. James Newbern. You may call me, Dr. Newbern. If you’re not here for communications, please leave now.” Then he picked up the student roll and walked in front of his desk. Leaning against it, he crossed his booted ankles.

  “Good morning and welcome. If this is your first college class, congratulations! You’re no longer in high school. I believe you must be smart because you’ve made the decision to further your education.”

  A few students shifted and sat upright in their seats.

  “What do I expect from you? I require your best. Nothing less will get you successfully out the door at the end of this semester. I hope you find the material useful in your everyday life. Maybe even enjoyable.” Twenty-one pairs of eyes focused on him. A few other pairs looked anywhere but at him.

  “I’ll take attendance this week. I’ll know your names before the week is out. If I butcher your name when I call it the first time, correct me. I apologize in advance if I get it wrong. If you have a nickname or something else you wish to be called, if it’s publicly appropriate, I’ll be happy to oblige.” That remark triggered a few snickers and giggles, like it had every semester in the past.

  His intended his opening speech to set expectations, and hoped a bit of humor would put them at ease. For some of them, even though Lakeview was a small community college, it signified a huge accomplishment. In rural communities, some students’ families could barely afford tuition. That fact was never lost on him.

  “And since this is my class, you follow my rules. I’m a totalitarian. If you don’t know the meaning, look it up. I’m willing to listen to reason, not excuses. Answer when I call your name and let me show you to your new seat.”

  Loud groans rolled back to him.

  “What? You don’t like your first assignment? No worries, this won’t be the only seat change this semester. Change brings chaos. Chaos causes growth. You’ll sit in several seats before you’re done and get to know all of your classmates.”

  As he began to call names, he pointed each student to their new seat. Some students showed more reluctance than others.

  “Buddy Davis?” James called out.

  “Bubba.” A young tall, thin guy rose and moved into the seat where James pointed at the end of the first row. “Bubba, it is. Cheryl-Lynn Fenton? Start the next row.”

  More than halfway through the list, James called out, “Andres Parker?”

  A stout, brick-wall-type of guy near the back of the room raised his hand. “Bubba,” he said. Giggles circled the room.

  “Naw, he’s already claimed ‘Bubba.’ Give me another name or we’ll have Bubba 1 and Bubba 2. Or B1 and B2. You get the picture. It’s your nickname. You two work it out and let me know what you want to do.”

  Andres scowled. “Parker,” he growled. “You call me Parker.”

  “Okay, Parker it is.” James wrote the name on the seating chart. That was one name he’d not forget. “Now, for more alliteration. Where’s Pamela P. Preston?”

  A pretty blonde in a pink tennis outfit sat in the middle of the second row and gave a princess wave. A diamond bracelet dangled on her wrist. She stood, gathered her bag and moved as though she might be an actress making a grand stage entrance. She walked to the front of the room, where she stood next to him. She almost reached his full height of six feet. He wondered how she had decided on Lakeview for college.

  “Miss Preston, please take a seat over there.” He pointed to the third row.

  “I prefer Bubba.” She spoke with a pronounced drawl and batted her eyelashes.

  James met her gaze. “You prefer him, or to sit by him, or you prefer to be called Bubba?” The class burst into giggles. Ms. Preston wasn’t fazed.

  Buddy “Bubba” Davis, seated at the end of the first row, leaned over and pulled the desk next to him closer. He patted the seat, inviting the blonde to sit. “Why honey, you look more like a ‘Barbie’ than a ‘Bubba’ to me.”

  The class roared with laughter.

  James managed to keep a straight face. “Miss Preston, do you have a nickname you’d like me to use?”

  She lowered her eyelids until they were half closed, and then she purred, “Barbie will do just fine.”

  This group would make for an interesting six weeks. Good thing, because he hadn’t planned on teaching summer school, but thanks to Dr. Brown’s mentoring assignment and the hiring of Miss Lind, if he had to show up four days a week, this class would make it worth the while.

  He finished checking the student roll, then said, “Now that I have your names, including Bubba’s and Barbie’s, let’s get down to business. Each of you will stand and gives us a speech. At least one minute long. I’ll time you. Tell us where you’re from and what you want to do when you graduate from this place.”

  He coached a few of his shyer students through their impromptu speech. A few he had to reign in, though he managed that with nothing more than a stern glare. He was pleased when the students needed no encouragement from him to applaud for their classmates.

  “Next item, here’s the syllabus. Pass it around.” He handed off the stack of paper to Barbie. “This is a new communications class. There will be several projects, speeches, presentations, and a couple of short papers. This class moves quickly with only six weeks to cover what is usually done in fifteen or sixteen. You cannot afford to fall behind. Class participation is part of your grade and I guarantee, I’ll call on each one of you at least once in every class. Read chapter one for Wednesday.” Murmurs filtered back to him along with the sound of rustling paper.

  “Individual speeches, group speeches, methods of electronic communication...” Bubba read aloud. “A pantomime presentation? What the heck is that?”

  With an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, James stretched out his arms, palms up, then put an index finger to his lips. Next he turned, then lifted his foot knee-high and stepped an exaggerated step, each step taking him closer to the door. Soundlessly, he pointed to the hall. He gestured with his hands, encouraging his students to leave.

  Barbie took the hint first. She picked up the paper from her desk, her tote bag, and gathered her purse. Laughing, her classmates lined up as if following a mother duck. James waved goodbye as each student crossed the threshold. He grinned until he looked from the doorway into the hall where Branna stood.

  “Of course,” she said. “Laughter would be coming from Dr. Newbern’s class. He would be that type of teacher.”

  He considered a snappy retort, but she was gone. “Miss Lind, you are an irritating, but unforgettably-hot-type,” he sighed, remembering the heat of her kisses. Obviously, when it came to her, he’d thrown all professionalism out the window.

  There was nothing left to do but go for it.

  Chapter 19

  Branna gave three light raps on the closed door. She hadn’t intended to kick a man when he was down. Their exchange in the hall bothered her, and she needed to clear the air.

  “Enter.”

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  “No, come on in. What’s up?” His mouth curled into a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “You look like you could use a friend. I was only teasing a few minutes ago in the hall.”

  When she sat in the chair next to his desk, a silver rattle with a pink bow tied around the handle caught her eye. That was the object she saw him with before. Was there a connection to the person on the phone and the rattle? Did James have a child? Maybe a niece or nephew?

  A second of panic hit her. Surely, he didn’t have a wife. No, if he were married, the honorable Dr. James Newbern wouldn’t have been out with her, let alone done everything else they’d shared. He wouldn’t cheat on a woman. He wasn’t Steven.

  “Really? A frie
nd?”

  “My first class is starting in ten minutes, but how about lunch when it’s over?” Maybe she could cheer him up. Maybe she’d regale him with funny stories about Fleur de Lis, which could make him smile and ward off the homesickness hanging in her heart.

  Bang!

  The glass doors to the office suite rattled as if someone shoved them open so hard the handles had hit the wall. The vibration reverberated through room. Immediately, James rose, and she followed him out of his office.

  In the lobby, Sadie struggled with a huge vase, the size of an urn, filled with red and pink long stemmed roses in a mass with white Baby’s Breath. With one hand, Sadie tried to maneuver paperwork out of the way on the top of her desk. She clutched the vase close to her chest, trying to keep it balanced. James rushed to help. He grabbed the vase and lifted it out of the way. With a quick flourish, Sadie shoved everything on her desktop to one side.

  “Miss Lind, aren’t the flowers beautiful. Did you two have a fight?”

  Branna looked at James. “No. Why?”

  “Then why wouldn’t you want these lovely flowers from your fiancé?”

  Confusion flashed across James’ face. His eyebrows rose, silently asking the unspoken question.

  Why did he always think the worst of her?

  “I do not have a fiancé. I am not engaged. See—” She held up her ring-less left hand and wiggled her fingers as evidence of the truth. “No ring. I’m not engaged.”

  Sadie’s doubtful frown focused on James then back at her. “Miss Lind, I don’t think I mixed up the details. Steven definitely said he was engaged to you.”

  “Oh see. The optimal word in that sentence is was. As in, ‘not any more’ for seven-plus months. I will never marry that man.”

  “Well, Steven told me—”

  “Sadie, believe me when I tell you, you can’t believe what he says. I learned that the hard way.”

  Sadie shrugged. Her brow creased in doubt.

  Branna tried to hold on to calm. Would she ever escape the tentacles of Steven’s charm? Her immunity to him had finally reached maximum capacity. What he did or didn’t do, didn’t matter one wit to her.