We went to the kitchen, and she opened a bottle of white wine. We took our glasses onto the back porch and sat in facing chairs.
"How was your week," I took a sip of my wine and stared at Marianne. She looked tired and stressed.
"Fine. I like my job. I'm usually off on Saturdays, but I went in this afternoon to get my charts done." She smiled at me and took a sip of wine.
"How are Susie and Rodney?"
"Better every day. I usually go to the hospital to see Rodney at about seven, and bring Susie home for the night. Soon she'll be able to walk here from the hospital." She slouched in her chair as though overly tired.
"I'll go get her tonight. You look tired." I sat on the edge of my seat as though I were about to stand up.
"She eats dinner with Rodney, and I fend for myself. What would you like for supper?" Marianne seemed preoccupied, her eyes at half-mast.
"What about your boyfriend, Dr. Warner? Are you still seeing him?"
"Yes. In fact, we have a date tonight." Marianne rolled her wine glass back and forth between her hands.
"Well, you go get a shower and dress for your date. I'll go to the hospital, visit with Rodney, and bring Susie home. Where's Lilly?"
"Her boyfriend came from Baton Rouge, and they went down to the World’s Fair. Have you been, yet? It's really sensational" Marianne took a sip of her wine and leaned back in her chair.
"No, I haven't had time, but I'll put it on my 'to-do' list." I smiled at her and thought I should tell her about Luke. "I met someone."
"Oh, Do tell!" She sat straight up in her chair. "Someone special?"
"It's hard to know. I've only been out with him twice, but I like him." I smiled when I thought about Luke. I told her about our dates, and how Robert said that Luke was a great guy.
"When will you see him again?" She reached over and took my hand, almost motherly.
"He'll be in Jean Ville next week for a hearing on the case. I'm going to invite him to my apartment for dinner."
"The case? What does he have to do with the case?"
"He's a prosecutor with the attorney general's office, and is in charge of the case against Thevenot and Rousseau."
"He must be smart." She looked serious. I thought about Luke and all the things he had going for him: intelligence, talent, looks, manners, pretty much everything a girl would want in a guy. The opposite of Warren Morrow. I felt my neck start to burn, and soon the warmth spread to my cheeks, and that damn blushing thing happened. Marianne started to laugh, and we both ended up in stitches.
*
Rodney looked better than I'd seen him in months. He was in a wheelchair, and I sat next to him and told him about how the case was proceeding. Then I told him about Luke. Susie was all ears, asking questions as though she were my mother and needed to screen my dates. I reminded them both that I was almost twenty-six years old, and that meant I was an adult.
"But I do appreciate that you both care so much." I looked from Susie to Rodney and smiled. "You make me feel loved."
"You… are…" Rodney said in a stutter.
"I appreciate that, brother." I hugged his neck, and he put his left arm over my shoulder and squeezed. "I want a man just like you."
Rodney and Susie both grinned.
"When are you planning to move to Baton Rouge?" Susie finally had followed me into the hall and stood facing me.
"I can move any time, but I'll need some financial help. I mean, I can't really afford an apartment."
"I'll pay for an apartment for the two of you." Susie leaned against the wall. "That sounds like the best idea."
"I've been looking, and I have a few leads. Meanwhile, if Brenda offers, and Lilly wants to stay there, she could stay with the Morrises until I find a place, buy some furniture, and get settled."
"You can have the furniture from the house on Gravier Road. Hire a mover to take it to Baton Rouge. If you move out of the garage apartment, I think I'll either sell or rent that place. Rodney and I will never live in Jean Ville.” Susie looked from me to Rodney.
“I’d like to keep the apartment through the trial, so I have a place to stay.” I looked at Susie and she nodded.
We chatted for another fifteen minutes, and I told her I'd like to take Lilly to New York during the Thanksgiving holidays.
"I think she misses Joe. She also mentioned going to see Emma." I watched Susie's face darken.
"It would be good for her to go to New York," Susie looked up, and her expression changed to something that resembled understanding. "I only wish I could take her. She's never been up there without me."
"She'll be fine. Really, Susie, she's old enough to go alone, but I'm happy to go with her. You were close to her age when you went off to Sarah Lawrence all by yourself."
Susie didn't respond, only looked off into the distance as though remembering something unpleasant.
*
The next morning, Marianne told me that Warner had kissed her. She blushed when she said she liked it, which made me laugh.
"He took me to a restaurant in the French Quarters called Galatoire’s. It was fancy, expensive, romantic." Marianne had a faraway look in her eyes.
"How was the restaurant?"
"It was fabulous. He told me the fish was always fresh, and I told him about Catfish and how he loved to catch fish and cook them fresh. We talked about how much I miss my grandfather, and he said he'd lost his grandfather, too.” She looked at me intently. “I wonder what Catfish would think of Donato Warner.” She paused and looked at the ceiling with a faraway expression.
“Anyway, I was sort of confused by everything: the menu selections were complicated—so many different kinds of fish, sauces, sides; so he ordered for us both." Marianne laughed at herself and continued talking as though I weren't in the room. "I was also confused by him: his presence, his hands, his kindness. He held my hand on the corner of the table, and I couldn't think.
"He apologized for being a scumbag. I told him I don't have enough experience to know what a scumbag is, and I felt myself blush. 'A scumbag is someone who comes on too strong. Who takes you to dives instead of nice restaurants. Who expects you to put-out. Who moves too fast.' He squeezed my hand, and I finally looked at him.
"'Then I guess you're a scumbag,' I said and started to laugh. He sat back in his chair and laughed, too. I guess it broke through the curtain of distrust that hung between us because we actually had a great conversation after that. We talked about him, a lot. About his background, his parents, his three siblings. We talked about his ex-wife and New York and medical school. We talked about Rodney and Susie, and the unusual medical progress they are making.
"'I want what they have,' he said and looked at me intently. 'I see the way you watch them. You want that, too, right?’
"'Who doesn't? Who wouldn't want what they have?' I said. Then I told him how difficult Susie and Rodney's journey had been, and that mixed-race relationships aren't accepted down here. I wanted him to know upfront that I was afraid of what might happen if he and I dated.
"'I don't know how to say this without insulting you and your race,' he said 'But you don't look African American.' Just then, the waiter brought our food, which gave me a chance to think. I told him that I was proud of my heritage and that maybe no one would know I was black in New Orleans, but that at home, in Jean Ville, everyone knows my family and my background.
"'Okay, let's just stay out of Jean Ville,' he said and laughed, as if the solution was so simple. I said, 'My family is there. My life. My career.' I started to think about what I had in Jean Ville that would coax me back: my mom, my four sisters, my two nieces, my uncles and aunt, and their spouses and kids. Then he said, 'I don't mean to sound trite. I'm sorry. Tell me about your family. I already know and love your mom.' He put his fork down and listened, giving me his undivided attention. I told him about my aunts, uncles, and cousins, and explained how we all lived with our back porches almost touching and were i
n and out of each other's cabins day and night.
"'What about your love life?' he asked me. 'Do you have someone in Jean Ville you miss?'
"'No. I haven't…' I started to stutter, got hold of myself, and told him that I'd never had a boyfriend and had never been kissed by a guy. I looked at my plate and blushed with embarrassment. He sat back in his chair so hard it was as though he'd been punched in the gut with a cannon. Then he started to laugh and said, 'I don't want to sound like I don't believe you; but, really. I find it hard to…' His expression turned from mistrust to concern to sympathy, as though I'd missed out on something vital. Then he said, 'I mean, you're so beautiful.'
"I was embarrassed. I hung my head and dropped my chin to my chest. I heard his chair scrape the floor as he turned it towards me and said, 'You ready to go?' 'I asked, Do you mind?' I looked at him and felt hopeful, like we needed to get out of there, out of the public. I wanted some privacy. I said, ‘I mean the food is wonderful, so is the wine,' but he said, 'I'll have it packaged,' and he motioned to the waiter who silently took everything off the table and returned a few minutes later with a shopping bag. Donato paid the bill, and when we stepped outside the car was waiting. He handed the valet parker a wad of cash and opened the door, put his hand on the small of my back, and helped me into his sports car.
"We didn't talk as he drove towards Metairie. He turned down a narrow road near Jules Avenue, and before long, we were on the levee, watching tugboats push barges up and down the wide Mississippi River. He reached in the bag and pulled out the bottle of wine and two clear plastic glasses the waiter had packed. He handed me a glass and filled it, then filled his own. 'Here's to honesty,' he said, and tipped his glass against mine and took a sip. He never took his eyes off me. 'I'll go first,' he took another sip. 'I want to kiss you. I've never kissed someone who hasn't been kissed, so I guess I'll teach you how to kiss, you can teach me how slow to go.' He laughed and touched the side of my face.
"I said, 'Now? I mean, are you going to me kiss now?' I felt afraid and pressured. He started to laugh and said, 'This may be more difficult than I thought. First, you don't announce that there will be kissing. It just happens because you both want it to happen.' He was still laughing. I felt like I was twelve years old again, having feelings stirring inside but not knowing what to do with them.
"He took my hand and pulled it to his lips and kissed my palm. It sent chills up my arms to my neck, and I felt heat start on my chest and climb upward onto my face. Then he let go of my hand and got out of the car. At first, I just sat there and wondered what he was doing, then he opened the door on my side and reached for my hand. He pulled me out of the car, and I stood facing him. I could taste his breath and smell the starch in his dress shirt. He put his arms around me, over my shoulders, and when he pulled me to him, my arms went around his waist under his sports coat. At first, I gasped, then tried to relax. I could hear his heartbeat, tha-thump, tha-thump. He rested his face on the top of my head, and we stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms. When I felt him lift his head off mine, I looked up, and my chin was under his. He bent his head and kissed me.
"'You're a natural,' he said, and whispered into my mouth. I felt his hardness against the lower part of my belly, and it frightened me. I pulled away and took a breath. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I can't help my reaction. I'm really attracted to you. I felt tears gather behind my eyelids because I remembered the only other time I'd felt a man's genitals press against me. I started to shake, and he pulled me close to him in a way that I couldn't feel his crotch. He pushed my head against his chest and stroked my hair with one hand. I was crying, I must have been heaving, because he tightened his grip and rubbed my back and said, 'It's okay. Whatever happened to you in the past is over. I'll protect you."'
"He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to me, but didn't release me when he said, 'We can take it as slow as you like. I'm in no hurry.'
"He helped me clean the mascara off my face, then we tried to get the spots off his shirt and laughed at the mess I'd caused. We got back in the car and finished our wine, talked about Susie and Rodney, and laughed a little." Marianne took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. She finally looked at me, and her expression said that she'd forgotten I was there.
"Susie said that's what Josh Ryan told her, 'We can take it slow, I'm in no hurry.' She said you can trust a man who has that kind of patience." I put my hand on Marianne's, and she smiled as though those words answered her questions about Dr. Warner.
Chapter Eleven
***
Revenge
IT WAS A busy weekend in New Orleans. Rodney was moved to the inpatient Rehab floor so that he could focus on speech, occupational, and physical therapy. He still had trouble forming words, and he couldn't walk, at all. He was finally able to feed himself, although it took him an hour to eat a meal. Susie's patience was endless, as she would eat her meals with him and take slow, small bites so that they finished at the same time.
Susie insisted on being with Rodney every minute during the weekend, because the staff was off, and that's when she could be his personal therapist, working with him on his speech by giving him reading assignments that increased his ability to say words and identify sentences. She also worked with him on eye-hand coordination, throwing a beach ball to him, helping him to hold a pencil and make scribbles on paper, setting a table with plates and utensils, and insisting that he identify the fork, knife, and spoon, then reach out to grab one of them, and hold them correctly in his left hand. We were all glad Rodney was left-handed since his right arm was still stiff and weak from the bullet that went all the way through it and tore muscles, ligaments, and nerves.
I took Lilly shopping for winter clothes suitable for a college girl, and I spoke to Luke's landlord about a rental house in Baton Rouge. He told me he had one that would be available the first of December and I could see it the next time I was in town.
I left for Jean Ville at about ten o'clock Monday morning and stopped to see my dad before I got to my garage apartment. He was in the kitchen making a sandwich, and he looked better than I'd seen him in a long time.
"You're up and moving around, Daddy. That's good." I kissed him on the cheek and poured myself a glass of tea from the pitcher on the counter. We sat at the kitchen table and talked while he ate his sandwich. I didn't bring up the case, nor did he.
Daddy said that his physical therapist had been coming three times a week and took him outside to walk around the block.
"I feel like I'm getting my strength back." His tone was upbeat and positive, and it made me happy. "His name is Lyle. He explained that the more I move, the more energy I'll have. The less I move, the less energy. I'd never thought about it that way."
"I'm glad to see you doing so well, Daddy."
"Where have you been, little girl?" He had called me 'little girl' since I was a baby, and he called Susie, 'pretty girl.' Neither she nor I cared what he called us as long as he didn't get violent. He'd been physically abusive with Susie from as far back as I could remember, but he'd never hit me.
When I left my dad's house, I drove by James's office on my way to the bank to cash a check. I could have sworn the old blue truck I'd seen at the church and again at James's house was parked in his parking lot. I backed up and pulled in so I could read the license plate: 37L402. Wow. I wondered who might be driving it, since Rousseau and Thevenot were in jail.
*
Luke called Monday afternoon and said that he'd be in Jean Ville the next evening because the judge had scheduled a hearing for Wednesday morning. "I was wondering whether you'd be free for dinner, although I'm not familiar with the restaurant scene in Jean Ville."
"There are one or two worth trying, but why don't you come to my place and we can grill steaks." I didn't tell him that I was afraid to be seen in public with him. Small-town gossip and Warren on the loose, so to speak.
"That would be great. Can I bring a
nything?" He sounded excited.
"Just yourself," I said, and laughed.
After we hung up, I drove to the grocery store to buy steaks and potatoes to cook the next night, and I picked up the local newspaper, called the Toussaint Journal. When I got home, I unpacked my car, stored the groceries, and put a load of clothes to wash. I poured myself a glass of tea and sat down with the newspaper.
The mug shots of Thevenot and Rousseau were plastered across the front page. The caption read: Shooting suspects released from jail. The article said that the defense fund at the Confederate Bank had raised more than $100,000—enough to post their bail. I read and re-read the article. Then I picked up the phone and called the attorney general's office in Baton Rouge.
When the robot answered, I dialed 3-2-3. The phone rang five times, and I was about to hang up when Luke answered.
"Did you know Thevenot and Rousseau were bailed out?" I was angry.
"Yes. I heard about it this morning." He was out of breath.
"Aren't you afraid of what they might do to get back at me, at you, and maybe others?"
"I hadn't thought about that." He let out a heavy breath, and I heard his chair creak. "We took it as a positive thing because we can follow them and see who their contacts are."
"I hope you have them followed 24-7. They are in Jean Ville. So am I!" I hoped he understood that I was afraid of them, but since I hadn't told him about the note on my windshield, he probably hadn’t put two-and-two together.
I didn't mention that I'd seen the blue truck at James's office, but it occurred to me that if investigators were tailing Rousseau and Thevenot, they'd see it there. I felt I needed to warn James, but I was torn between my loyalty to my brother and my feelings for Luke.
"Okay. See you tomorrow night." I hung up and paced my living room and kitchen, and tried to figure out how to handle the fact that I had insider's knowledge that could affect my brother. What was his affiliation with the two guys who shot Rodney? Then I remembered that one of James's partners represented Thevenot, so it would be logical for the truck to be at his office. I breathed a sigh of relief and decided to treat the investigation the way I treated gossip: zip the lips.
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