Brody crossed to the driver’s side and slid into his seat. He started the Jeep and turned to look at Lou, her tongue once again swirling around the cone.
“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned. He took the ice cream cone from her hand and tossed it out the window.
“What did you do that for?” She probably sounded like a whiny brat. But that was her ice cream for goodness sake.
“Never mind,” he ground out as he again reached over and removed her sticky hand from her lap. He clasped it loosely in his own larger hand between them on the console.
The ride home was spent in companionable silence, the havoc of the day finally taking a toll on them both. Brody stopped the Jeep and turned off the ignition He squeezed her hand tightly. “Thanks again for sitting with me,” he said gently, removing his hand from hers. Her only response was a slight nod.
They walked up the back porch steps together. He held the door for her. Sadie and Jeb were waiting up, sharing a pot of coffee at the kitchen table.
Jeb rose from his chair and turned to Brody. “How is she?” At the same time, Lou went to Sadie and walked into the old woman’s arms. The stress of the day fell from Lou’s body like the slow rain of her tears. Sadie patted her back and cooed to her like she was a child again. Jeb held out a handkerchief that was always in his back pocket. She took it and dried her eyes, thoroughly mortified to have been caught crying by Brody.
“Where’s Sarah?” she asked softly.
“She’s in our bed,” Jeb said. “Do you want me to go and get her?”
“No. I can do it. You just stay here.”
Lou walked from the kitchen to the long hallway that led to Jeb and Sadie’s apartment on the lower level. She retrieved Sarah from atop the covers on their bed. The child did not wake as she lifted her but just wrapped her legs around Lou’s waist. Lou placed her hands beneath her bottom and boosted her a little higher. Like most old homes, the stairway was centered around the kitchen so she had to walk back to where the family was seated.
Brody looked up from his coffee where he sat at the table with Jeb and Sadie and smiled softly at her as she walked by with the sleeping child tucked against her.
“’Night,” she said softly as she turned to go up the stairs.
“’Night,” he said in response.
Lou hauled the sleeping child up the stairs and entered her room. Once she was safely stowed beneath the covers, Lou kissed her forehead and walked through the bathroom that connected the two bedrooms. She typically slept with the adjoining door open so she could hear Sarah in the night.
Lou shed the worries of the day as she shed her clothes and stepped beneath the spray of the shower. The warm water washed away her worries. Her fears for Mrs. Wester began to diminish as she reminded herself that her mentor and friend was in good hands at the hospital. She lathered her hair with a lavender shampoo and washed her body with a soap that smelled vaguely the same. It was revitalizing and yet helped to relax her at the same time.
She stepped from the steaming shower onto a bath mat and rubbed the mirror clean with a towel. She dried her body with the same towel and then bent at the waist so her hair fell forward, allowing her to wrap it, turban style. She looked in the mirror and noted she looked reasonably good, even though she was still pale and tired.
She padded across the floor on bare feet and retrieved matching pajama shorts and a strappy pajama top. She unwound her hair from the towel and ran a brush through it. She looked at the hair dryer but then dismissed the idea. She decided, instead, to open the door to the portico and step out into the fresh air and let the wind blow-dry her hair.
In true antebellum style, the home had porches on both levels, and each bedroom had a separate entrance onto the porch. Outside each door sat double rocking chairs that faced the night. Lou quietly opened the door to her room and stepped out into the darkness. She chose not to turn on the porch light, preferring the glow of the moon over thousands of tiny bugs that would attack if she turned the light on. She sat down in one of the low-backed rocking chairs and hung her streaming mass of wet hair over the back so it swayed as she rocked gently. The small wind was a blessing after a hot day. The gentle motion of the rocking chair lulled her and eased some of the tension from her body. The creaking rockers on the chair sang a comforting tune. Lou closed her eyes and thought of the events of the day.
She felt like she had been rode hard and put up wet.
She had spent the day with a man who was at first accusing, then apologetic. He made her tremble, both with anger and with passion. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the feel of his mouth against hers. He must think I am such a child. He had obviously had lovers before. Any idiot could tell he had experience. Unlike her, he had probably had more lovers than he had fingers and toes. She wondered if her lack of experience was obvious. It had to be. Not once, but twice, he had thrown out the bait and she took it like a starving mouse goes for rat poison. She was her mother’s daughter after all.
That thought caused the acidic taste of bile to rise up in her throat. She swallowed it back as the ramifications of her actions hit her in full force. I behaved like my mother. She let her emotions and physical desires override her good sense and she was making a fool of herself in the process.
She ground her teeth in disgust. How could I have been so stupid? He was a man, and men only wanted one thing. They wanted to use you until they stole your soul, your pride and all your dreams. How many times have I seen my mother discarded by a man over the years? More times than she could count. She would never, ever be like that. She would let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t and would never be a whore, no matter how poor her decisions had been. She would tell him at the first opportunity.
Lou ran her fingers through her hair once more, feeling the silken threads fall between her fingers. Her hair was nearly as dry as her mouth. She rose quickly from the rocking chair and spun, opening the door to her room and letting it close not too gently behind her.
Lou crawled between the sheets with renewed determination, knowing she had to either put her foot down tomorrow or steer clear of one Dr. Broden James Wester, III.
****
Brody sat in the dark outside his own room, enjoying the peaceful evening as he tried to tidy the thoughts that ran through his mind. He tried to wade through the grief that accompanied the thoughts of his mother and her condition.
He sat in the shadows, chewing his fingernails, and was startled when he heard the sound of the door down from his opening. Lou stepped into the moonlight. She was wearing close fitting shorts and a small top that was so tight he could see her breasts jiggle slightly when she walked. They were obviously unbound but were still pert and full, her nipples pushing against the fabric in the gentle breeze.
He felt himself harden at the thought of her. Good God! He was acting like a kid with no self-control again. He could tell right off the bat Lou wasn’t as experienced as he thought when he first met her, even though she had a daughter. Her inexperienced lips meeting his told him, plain as day, about her and her hesitation. If she had known how she looked eating that ice cream cone and interpreted his thoughts, she would have run for the hills.
If the cop hadn’t shown up when he did, he would probably have stripped her right there on the table. He smiled at the thought of the cop calling them kids. He did feel like a kid again when he was with Lou, like the world was new and he wanted to explore all of it.
Her devotion to his family was unwavering. She would be at Western Skies long after he was gone. She didn’t seem to be a one-night stand kind of girl, so the best thing he could do was keep his hands to himself and try to be friends with her—nothing more.
The scent of lavender tickled his nose as she lifted her hair over the back of the rocking chair. Her pose went from relaxed to rigid. He watched the expression change on her face as she rocked on the porch. He didn’t understand the play of emotion that crossed her face but could tell she wasn’t pleased just by
the tension in her body. He was about to make his presence known and come out of the darkness to see what the problem was when she rose quickly from her rocker and stomped into the house.
The door slammed behind her.
What on earth had caused that?
Chapter Four
Chubby fingers clawed at the windowsill as banging hands slapped the front door. “We know you’re in there, Lou! We know you have it. We want to talk to you.” The banging stopped briefly and a new voice rang out—quiet, yet clear. The voice belonged to Mrs. Downy, the old lady who lived next door. “Lou, Honey, its Mrs. Downy. Why don’t you just open the door for these nice gentlemen so they can get what you owe them, dear? They have been waiting for a long time…”
The voice faded away and was replaced by angry bursts and deep, guttural curses. The walls of the trailer shook as the hands beat against the rickety frame. A baby cried in a bassinet in the corner of the room. Lou grabbed the baby from the bassinet and crawled from the carpet of the living room to the cold linoleum floor of the kitchen. She climbed into the lowest set of kitchen cabinets and closed the door behind her. She placed a finger in the baby’s mouth to keep her quiet. The baby suckled gently on her finger. She rocked her body back and forth. Was it more to comfort her or the baby? She wasn’t sure.
The door splintered as the assailants finally found their way into the home. Heavy footfalls pounded through the rooms as they ran from one end of the mobile home to the other, opening doors as they walked through the house. They stopped and looked under beds and in closets. She heard them walk into the kitchen. Her heart started to race. She jumped as the first cabinet door opened. Her startled movement scared the baby clutched against her breast, and the baby let out a pitiful wail.
The door to the cabinet where she was hiding opened slowly. The kind, old face of Mrs. Downy peered into the darkness. Before Lou’s very eyes, the kindly expression that was normally on the old woman’s face changed to one of anger and hatred. The voice still belonged to Mrs. Downy but the face wasn’t the same. “Just give them what they came for child,” she chided as she reached out and grabbed the baby from Lou’s arms with surprising agility. Lou held frantically to the child, trying to regain her grip but she was unable to hold on. A scream ripped from her throat as she realized she had failed to protect the baby.
“No! No! Nooooooooo!” she screamed.
Lou sat up straight in bed, sweat pouring from her body. Her hair was plastered to her face and sweat ran down her skin in rivulets. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would jump out of her chest. She scanned the room, looked through the open doorway into Sarah’s room and verified the sleeping child was still tucked safely in bed. One day, the dreams would stop, wouldn’t they?
****
The door to her room flew open with such force that it hit the wall with a thud. Brody stood in the threshold, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He held a baseball bat in his hand. Lou’s eyes raised and met his.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” asked Brody breathlessly, his eyes taking in the quiet state of the room where Lou had been sleeping. “Why did you scream?”
“I don’t know,” Lou stammered, clutching the comforter in front of her soaking wet body. “What did you hear?”
Brody sighed with relief and visibly relaxed. “I heard you screaming like someone was trying to kill you.” Brody jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to find Sadie standing behind him, wearing a robe and slippers and her hair bound for sleeping. Jeb was directly behind her, dressed in lounge pants and a T-shirt. His feet were bare. “It’s all right, Jeb. I think she had a bad dream.” Sadie bustled by him, pushing him out of the doorway.
“You two can go on back to bed, now,” she mumbled as she closed the door in their faces.
“But…” Brody stammered as the door was about to close.
She spoke through the crack in the door. “I’ll take care of this, Brody. Take yourself off to bed, now.”
“Come on, boy.” Jeb placed a playful arm around Brody’s shoulders. “Since we’re both up, I’ll treat you to a cup of coffee downstairs. You had better put some clothes on first, though.” Jeb snickered and shook his head. A bat in his hand with him in his underwear. He’d blasted into the room like a naked avenger. He needed clothes. And coffee sounded good, too.
Jeb and Brody sat in companionable silence at the kitchen table until Sadie joined them thirty minutes later. “Is she okay, Sadie?” Brody asked, his eyebrows crunched together with concern.
“She’s taking a shower, now. Poor thing was wringing wet with sweat.” Sadie’s eyes met Jeb’s over the table. If Brody didn’t know her so well, he wouldn’t have seen the concern etched in her brows.
“Been a long time since she’s woken up like that,” Jeb said to Sadie with a sigh.
“Wait,” Brody broke in. “She’s done that before?” Surely it didn’t happen often. It was terrifying.
“When she first came here, she woke up like that every night. Then the dreams started to get fewer and farther between until they stopped completely. She hasn’t had one in years,” Sadie clucked.
“What are they about?” Brody asked.
Sadie started to speak and Jeb cut her off. “That’s her business, Brody. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.” Sadie nodded in agreement.
John walked into the room, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he tried to wake. “What’s all the ruckus?” he asked around the yawn that filled his mouth.
“Lou had a nightmare,” Brody announced. If no one else wanted to talk about it, perhaps John would.
John came instantly awake. “She hasn’t had one of those in a long time. Did it wake Sarah up?”
“That child could sleep through a hurricane, John,” Sadie replied with a slight chuckle.
“Was the dream as bad as they used to be?” John asked.
“Yeah. But she’s fine now. You can go back to bed,” said Jeb. He touched Sadie gently on the elbow to urge her back to bed as well.
Realizing no information would be forthcoming, Brody broke from the group surrounding the kitchen table and climbed the stairs back up to his bedroom. He passed by Lou’s room and noticed the door was still slightly ajar. He tapped softly, calling out, “Lou?” He received no response.
He opened the door a few inches and peeked through the crack he had made. “Lou?” he called out again. Still no response.
Brody pushed the door wide open before he heard the creak of the rocking chair outside her room. Brody tiptoed through the room and opened the door to the porch slowly.
“Lou?” he called again, quietly.
Lou jumped as though someone had grabbed her. She was sitting in the dark in the rocking chair, much like before. Her long dark hair was hung over the back of the rocking chair, swaying in the breeze. She wore a fresh pair of pajamas, again a strappy pajama top and matching shorts. She sat forward quickly and was momentarily startled until she looked up and saw Brody standing in the doorway. Then she relaxed considerably, leaning back against the chair and wiping her wet hair from her eyes. “Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey, yourself. Are you okay?” Brody asked gently, sitting down in the rocking chair beside hers.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She dismissed his fear with a gentle wave in his direction. “Thanks for coming to my rescue with the baseball bat.” She chuckled.
Her laughter lightened the mood considerably. He shrugged his shoulders. “It sounded like someone was trying to kill you. I had to do something.”
“Next time, you might want to remember to put on some clothes before you go saving lives,” said Lou, cutting her dark eyes in his direction. Brody could see the shine of her white teeth glowing in the dark, evidence of a smile.
Brody grunted. “You should be happy I wasn’t sleeping naked.”
Lou’s grin got bigger. “If that’s how you normally sleep, I’ll consider myself warned and will try to keep my screams to myself.” She put on a mock-offen
ded look.
“Do you have nightmares like that a lot?” he asked gently.
“Is this Dr. Wester asking me or is this Brody?” she asked with a smirk on her face, one eyebrow raised.
“Both,” was his only response.
Lou took a deep breath. “I used to have them all the time. I haven’t had one in a really long time. I don’t know if it was the stress of your mom being in the hospital or something else causing it. Let’s both hope that was the last one for a while.”
“I can give you something to help you sleep if you need it,” Brody said. He didn’t like to use medication to ease fears, and he had a sneaking suspicion that’s what this was about.
“No!” Lou snapped, sitting forward in her chair. Then she sighed heavily and replied, “I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t take drugs. I can get through this without any medication. But thanks for the offer.”
Escaping the Past (Wester Farms) Page 6