Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Bayou SweetheartThe Firefighter's New FamilySeason of Redemption

by Lenora Worth

“Who knows? You know women. Probably looking at our honeymoon pictures.” After a little small talk, Nick hurried away.

  Tomas wondered if he had the plague. Seemed the entire Blanchard clan and spouses were steering clear of him.

  Was Callie’s family avoiding him because she couldn’t take things any further with him? Or were they still upset about him taking over the shipyard?

  Reverend Guidry came to sit beside Tomas. “All alone tonight?”

  “You noticed?” Tomas held up his tea glass. “Just me and the other bachelors.” He motioned to the two senior men sitting down the way. They both looked to be in their eighties.

  Reverend Guidry laughed. “Give it time, Tomas. You’re young and free.”

  “Free.” Tomas glanced over at the preacher. “Free.”

  “Yep, that’s what I said.”

  “There is something to be said about having your freedom, I guess.” He was remembering what Callie had said to him, about being her own boss, about being free and independent and making her own choices.

  Was that why she was afraid to take the next step?

  He shot up out of his chair so fast, it grated across the floor and scared one of the older gentleman so much he almost dropped his fork. Tomas excused himself from the table.

  He was going to Callie’s house.

  * * *

  “Here’s a warm cloth, Callie.”

  Callie lifted her head and took the towel Brenna offered her. “Thanks.”

  “Can you make it back to bed?”

  She nodded, too zapped from throwing up to say anything. Chemo was never kind. She’d hoped this time she’d be able to tolerate it more but apparently being older didn’t make her any stronger.

  Brenna helped her into bed and pulled the chenille spread up over her. They both knew the chills would come now.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Callie said, dragging her hand down the soft blue chenille. “Go home to your new husband.”

  “I’m staying until Alma gets here,” Brenna replied. “Just rest, okay?” She adjusted the covers again. “Do you want some soup?”

  “No.” Callie closed her eyes and prayed the worst was over. But she knew this would get worse before it got better. She touched a hand to her hair. Not yet. Not yet. She dreaded that the most. Losing your hair so your body could get well didn’t seem fair. But cancer was never fair.

  She let the fatigue take over her body and tried to drift off to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about things to come.

  She thought of Tomas and the moonlight she’d seen in his eyes the night he’d held her. What a sweet memory. A memory she could hold and relive over and over. It held her, soothed her and broke her heart all at the same time.

  A cool spring wind pulled through the screen of her open bedroom window. Callie pulled the cover close and enjoyed the fresh air she always craved. A knocking sound jolted her out of her sleep. She jumped, but Brenna was right there. “Probably Alma, though for the life of me I can’t believe she’d knock. We never knock.”

  “True,” Callie whispered. They all had an open-door policy.

  So who could be knocking at her door at nine o’clock in the evening?

  * * *

  Tomas waited for the door to open, prepared to spill his words before Callie shut him out. But Callie didn’t open the door. Instead, Brenna stood there, shock and surprise coloring her face.

  “Tomas.”

  “Hi, Brenna.” He searched the room behind her. “Is Callie here?”

  Brenna came out on the porch and closed the door. “She’s asleep.”

  “This early?” Tomas could tell Brenna was hiding something. She looked as worried and guilty as a kid who’d gotten into mischief. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Fine. She’s just tired. Long day at work.”

  Tomas didn’t believe that. Callie had more energy than anyone he knew. “Okay. Well, will you tell her—”

  “Bren?”

  He heard the weak call through the open window. “Is that—”

  “I’m coming,” Brenna said. She turned back to Tomas, her hand on the open door. “I have to go. I’ll tell Callie you stopped by.”

  When a crash sounded through the house, Brenna looked panicked. “I have to go, Tomas.”

  Tomas went from concerned to let-me-in-now mode. He sprinted past Brenna and headed toward the room where he’d heard the sound.

  “Callie? It’s Tomas. Are you all right?”

  No answer.

  He hurried down the hallway and pushed at the partially open door to what he assumed was the master bedroom. “Callie, I’m coming in.”

  “No!”

  He heard the feeble cry but it was too late. He rushed into the room and found her on the floor, a broken glass that must have held water beside her. The rug was wet.

  “Callie?” He lifted her up and checked her for cuts or bruises. Shocked at how pale she looked, he turned to Brenna. “We need to call 911. She’s not well.”

  Callie rolled her head back and forth. “I’m all right. Just go, please. Brenna?” She tried to sit but seemed too weak.

  Tomas went into action, lifting her into his arms so he could get her back to the bed. “Brenna is right here,” he said, trying to comfort her. “You need a doctor.”

  Callie opened her eyes and searched the room. “Brenna?”

  “I’m here, honey.”

  Tomas saw the tears in Brenna’s eyes. “What’s wrong with her, Brenna?”

  She didn’t speak. She kept staring at Callie.

  “Brenna?” Anger clouded over his fears.

  “I’ll tell him,” Callie said. “Give us a few minutes.”

  “Are you sure?” Brenna asked, her husky whisper hard to hear.

  Callie nodded. “Go.”

  Her sister left the room but kept the door open.

  Tomas turned back to Callie, touched her damp forehead, saw the gray pallor that colored her usually rosy face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, even though he’d pretty much figured things out. Even while his brain refused to accept what his eyes could see. “Callie?”

  She stared up at him with lackluster eyes. “My cancer is back. I...I didn’t want you to know.”

  Tomas’s world tilted. The darkened room seemed to stifle him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But now, now he understood why she’d turned away from him. Now everything made perfect sense. He had to swallow, had to inhale. Touching a hand to her face, he stroked her hot cheek over and over, until he felt her teardrops on his fingers. And then she took his hand, held it tight there against her skin. For a moment, her eyes met his, clear and precise and relieved.

  “Callie?”

  The moment faded and so did the hope in her eyes.

  “Leave,” she said, pushing his hand away. “Just go. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Callie?” He swallowed, pulled her up into his arms. “I can’t leave. I can’t. Let me help you.”

  “No,” she said, rolling herself into a tight little ball. “No. It’s just the chemo. Bad week. I’ll be better soon. Go.”

  He heard Brenna. “Tomas, you need to leave, okay?”

  He shook his head, turned back to Callie. “Callie,” he whispered. “Callie.” He kissed her cheek, tasted the salt of her tears, and after a few silent minutes, got up and left the room, his heart shattering with each step.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Callie sat at her kitchen table a few days later. It was early morning. She loved watching the sun come up over the bayou. The golden pink rays stretched across the dark water like an arm reaching out to hug someone.

  She thought of how Tomas had held her the other night, his fingers stroking her skin. When she’d f
irst woken up the next morning, she’d thought she’d dreamed the whole thing.

  But Brenna had reminded her that it had been real.

  “He was stunned,” Brenna told her the next day. “I don’t know how to describe it.” She’d taken Callie’s hand in hers. “I think the man cares, Callie. A lot. He sat in your living room until well past midnight. After I explained things to him, he sat so silent and still. He looked crushed. He didn’t want to leave.”

  But Alma and Brenna had finally told him to go home.

  And he’d told them he’d be back.

  But that had been days ago. Had he changed his mind after realizing what was happening? After understanding what had become her reality? She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to put Tomas through this. She wouldn’t put him through this.

  Callie shifted, sipped the soothing hot cinnamon-and-ginger tea Alma had brought over with some freshly baked blueberry scones. Glancing over the weekly Fleur News, she kept the beautiful world just outside her door in her periphery as she read the latest news she’d been missing. At least she was feeling better today. So much better that she intended to go in to work at the nursery for the first time in four days. Now that everyone knew her cancer had returned, she had nothing to hide.

  Now that Tomas knew, she had to face him and get on with her life. Without him.

  But he was everywhere, including in the weekly newspaper. A long feature article about the Fleur Shipyard caught her attention. Funny, but she’d forgotten that the Dubois family owned the shipyard. Or had, before Tomas had bought them out.

  Or forced them out, according to the rumors.

  The article went on to say that the last remaining Dubois was in an assisted-living home in New Orleans, but there were relatives scattered here and there all over the country. It appeared that Tomas Delacorte had found most of them and had bought up their shares, one by one.

  Callie figured that was the way huge business contracts happened. Tomas must have worked many long hours to find all those people. Which made her believe he really wanted that shipyard. But why? The man was already rich. Maybe he just liked to stay busy and productive. Or maybe he enjoyed shutting things down so he could rebuild them from scratch.

  And maybe she needed to stay away from articles about him.

  When a truck pulled up to the garden lot across the road, she stood and took notice, hoping to get her mind back on her own business. The entire church had taken up the cause for her community garden, but the volunteers usually didn’t show up this early in the day. It was barely past six in the morning.

  She didn’t recognize the truck, so she watched, curious to see who climbed out of the bright blue vehicle. But when the driver finally stepped down and shut the door, she let out a little gasp of surprise.

  Tomas Delacorte. In a dark T-shirt, jeans and heavy work boots. He went to the back of the truck and took out a garden hoe and clippers and some other tools. Had he come to work on her garden?

  He glanced over toward her house and Callie ducked back out of the big bay window in her dining room. Taking another sip of tea, she was glad this was a good week. She felt almost human this morning. And she had already decided to venture out after her tea and scones.

  She hurried to her bedroom and rushed to get dressed. She wanted to help Tomas with that garden.

  * * *

  Tomas turned away from the little white house down the street. He knew she was in there, resting, maybe watching. Brenna had grudgingly kept him informed.

  “She has good days and bad days, Tomas. Just give her some time. One thing I can tell you about Callie. She moves to the beat of a different drummer. When she wants to come back out, she will.”

  He’d tried to reason with stubborn Brenna. “I can help her. I can sit with her and make sure she gets to her treatments in New Orleans.”

  Brenna had thanked him and smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And maybe out of pity for him, she’d added, “In fact, I’ll put you on the list for backup on the days we might all be busy.”

  Tomas felt helpless, shocked, shattered. But he realized the Blanchard sisters were a proud lot and that they’d drop everything to help Callie. They took care of their own. He was an outsider, an interloper, but he wanted to be a part of that tight-knit family. He wanted to help the woman he’d fallen in love with. Whenever he thought of Callie dancing in the rain and then remembered her suffering, he wanted to scream and fight someone. It wasn’t fair. It was never fair.

  Margie and Eunice had commiserated with him at breakfast on Monday morning. “They announced it in church Sunday and asked for prayers,” Margie said. “We plan to do a fund-raiser for her. You know the cost of all of this is ridiculous. She has a little insurance, but...”

  Eunice finished up there. “We hear last time her whole family pitched in and helped with the cost. The whole town helped as much as possible. Everyone loves Callie.”

  Tomas could understand that concept. But he knew better than to offer to cover the cost of her medical bills without waiting to talk to her family about how to make that happen. So he did the next best thing. He intended to cover all the good deeds she did for this community. He intended to pitch in wherever he was needed. Because that’s what Callie would do.

  And besides, hard work kept his mind off the question that hung like a black cloud over his head.

  Would she make it this time?

  He understood why she’d shut down her feelings for him. She had a bigger battle to fight now. And while it stung that she didn’t think he could handle that battle, he planned to show her that he could take whatever the future had to dish out.

  He intended to prove that to Callie, somehow.

  Tomas looked at the fresh green shoots sprouting through the earth in straight, symmetric lines and picked a row. Then he started hoeing the weeds and tilling the soil. He wanted to see this garden grow and mature and he wanted Callie to be here when they harvested the first crops.

  After a few minutes, two more volunteers showed up. Bob, with Margie and Eunice, came next. Then two more and then another and another. People started showing up, and with a nod and very few words, went to work on what was now being called Callie’s Garden.

  Tomas finished the row of butter beans and turned to start on the okra when he looked up and saw Callie slowly making her way across the street. She wore her big floppy straw hat and a button-down shirt over khaki pants. Beautiful as always.

  Without thinking, he dropped his hoe and headed over to meet her.

  “Hello,” he said. He took her by the elbow and watched for traffic. Her arm felt fragile and delicate to his touch. Had she lost weight? “How are you?” he asked, praying for good news.

  “Not so bad today.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry I scared you the other night. I somehow managed to knock the water glass off the nightstand. Dizziness does that to a person.”

  “You don’t owe me any apologies,” Tomas replied, a simmering anger hidden underneath his relief at seeing her.

  He wouldn’t be selfish by fussing at her because she’d kept this from him. But he could be disappointed.

  Callie turned to him when they’d made it across to the garden. “But I do owe you an explanation. Maybe we can sit down and talk later?”

  “Of course.” He guided her to a bench centered underneath a towering live oak.

  “I don’t want to sit and watch,” she said, tugging away to greet people. “I want to help plant.”

  “But you’re—”

  “Not an invalid,” she retorted as she pulled heavy work gloves out of her pocket. “I’ll let you know if I get tired, I promise.”

  “Okay.” Tomas wasn’t sure how to deal with a sick Callie. She’d always been so vibrant and full of gusto. Seeing her this way—pale and gaunt, with dark circles underneath her eyes—
made him want to hold her tight and never let her go. But he knew he had to tread lightly here. He didn’t want to patronize her. Callie wouldn’t like that. And yet, he didn’t want her to overexert herself, either.

  “Do you need some water?” he asked.

  “No.” She smiled and waved to several other people. “I need to get down on my knees and play in the dirt.”

  Tomas smiled at that. “Okay. The cherry tomato plants need clearing and pruning, according to Bob. The weeds are sprouting all around them.”

  Callie nodded and made her way toward where they’d planted the tomatoes. “I’ll get right on it.”

  Tomas watched her then glanced around to notice that others were doing the same. No wonder she hadn’t wanted anyone to know about her cancer. People treated you differently when you had a deadly disease. He could see that in the way people either avoided looking at her or asked her intimate questions that bordered on being rude. But he left her to her own devices for the rest of the morning. Every now and then he’d stop what he was doing and find her down one of the rows. She’d look up and smile at him, the not-so-fragile patient reassuring the broken grown man.

  As long as he had her where he could watch over her, Tomas might just make it through this.

  * * *

  By eleven o’clock, Callie’s strength was beginning to wane. She slowly made her way over to the bench and took a seat. The cool morning breeze had turned into a sunny hot wind. She was perspiring and she felt light-headed, but she was also content and thankful.

  “Hi.”

  She turned to find Tomas there with a bottle of water. She took it and drank deeply, enjoying the coolness of the liquid on her throat. “Sit with me,” she suggested, moving over.

  Tomas sat and drank from his own half-full bottle. “I think we’re done for today. The garden looks good.”

  “You had a lot of helpers,” Callie replied. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “They came to help you, not me.”

  She wished this confident man could see that he mattered, to her and to this town. “But you took the first step. Or rather, grabbed the first hoe.”