Dwelling Place

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  Miss Comeaux’s voice commanded his attention. He focused on the crack in the glass above her head. “I hadn’t considered it.”

  That sounded better than the full truth. What he hadn’t considered was his ability to withstand the onslaught of memories, combined with the gathering shadows the evening would bring. He’d huddled for cover under enemy fire and felt less fear than the thought of spending a single night under Granny Nell’s roof brought.

  He’d beat it, of that Ezra was sure. Tonight, however, he’d bunk at Calvin’s place.

  Calvin’s house was closer to the base, he told himself, and easier for everyone concerned. It was also a twenty-minute drive from Latagnier and a world away from his old life.

  His stomach growled, reminding Ezra he’d passed on lunch. “I should be going,” he said.

  When he dared a look at Sophie Comeaux, he expected to see relief. Instead she surprised him with a shake of her head.

  “I’m sorry we got off to a bad start,” she said. “Under other circumstances, we might have been. . .”

  Her words tumbled into silence, but her face spoke volumes. This was not a woman used to strife. For a moment Ezra allowed himself a touch of guilt over the fact he’d brought that unwelcome element into her life.

  Then he remembered his purpose, his mission. He thrust his hand in her direction. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Comeaux.”

  She accepted his handshake, albeit with obvious reluctance. “Welcome back to Latagnier,” she said.

  Ezra looked past his hostess to the pair of pint-sized females in the doorway. One wore a woman’s apron tied up high under her arms. Upon closer inspection, he recognized Granny Nell’s handwork on the embroidered fruit decorating the hem. He should recognize the thing. He’d ironed it enough.

  “Say, that’s a nice apron you’ve got there.”

  “Miss Nell gave it to us,” the more bold of the two said.

  “I got one, too,” the other stated in a softer voice. “Want me to go get it?”

  “Sure,” Ezra said, although for the life of him, he couldn’t say why.

  What purpose did it serve to encourage conversation with the persons he would soon send packing? After all, while it might benefit him to learn more about their mother, these children wouldn’t help him in his mission at all.

  Perhaps he had inherited a bit of Granny Nell. Not only would she have encouraged discourse with the juveniles, why, she would probably have ended up sharing tea and cookies with them. But that was his granny.

  And he was not her.

  “I should go,” he said.

  “Wait,” the girl at the door said. “Amanda’s bringing her apron.” She paused. “You can’t leave until you see it.”

  Ezra glanced over at Miss Comeaux, who leaned against the porch rail with the barest hint of a smile. He returned his attention to the apron-wearing twin.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

  A moment later the other twin burst through the door, slowing her pace only when she seemed to realize she’d arrived on the porch. She took one more halting step toward Ezra, then darted for the comfort of her mother’s embrace.

  The garment was made of handkerchiefs, each sewn together to form a checkerboard of lace and embroidery. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at that?”

  The dark-haired girl peered over her shoulder. “Okay.” She turned to face him, still holding her mother’s hand. A second later she popped her two middle fingers in her mouth.

  “I used to send Granny Nell handkerchiefs from all the places I visited.” He offered the shy girl a smile. “Looks like she used them for something besides blowing her nose.”

  The comment brought a giggle, followed by a smile. The older twin stepped between them to join her sister. “Mommy washed it before she let Amanda wear it, so it’s okay.”

  “Well, I’m glad about that.” Ezra gave the Comeaux woman an amused look as he climbed the steps to kneel beside Amanda. Carefully he touched the corner of the garment that hung on the girl’s narrow waist and puddled around her bare feet.

  The detail of the tiny stitches spoke of a talent long used to create quilts and other items. The script he noticed beneath his thumb froze the breath in Ezra’s lungs.

  Looking closer, he realized the same handwriting appeared on most of the other squares. Only a few were void of the location and date.

  “Singapore,” he read. “Jakarta, Milan, Buenos Aires.”

  The irony of each mission to these places and the others represented on the apron was that along with the serious nature of his trips he’d always managed to make a side trip to some shop where a handkerchief might be found. Sometimes he mailed them back to Latagnier individually, while other times, when safety and national security warranted, he might send four or five in a single package.

  The edge of the apron slipped from Ezra’s hands as the girl shifted positions to look up at her mother. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry, Amanda,” the other twin said. “You just had cookies.”

  Both girls covered their mouths with their hands, eyes wide. Their mother’s smile went south, turning into a quick frown. “Cookies?”

  “Just one,” Amanda said.

  “Well, I just had one,” the other stated, her hands on her hips. “Amanda tried to have two, but I stopped her.”

  “She broke the cookie jar.”

  “You made me.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  The words were out before Ezra realized he’d spoken them. When three sets of female eyes stared in his direction, he knew he’d either have to elaborate or excuse himself and head for the car.

  Thirteen

  It only took a second for Ezra to make his decision. “If I remember right, Granny Nell had a cookie jar sitting on top of her refrigerator.”

  “So only the grown-ups can reach it,” the older twin said.

  Ezra rose and straightened the crease on his jeans. “Why don’t I go get the cookie jar before I leave?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he bolted over to the other side of the porch and fitted the well-worn key into the lock. He was thankful it turned the first time he tried.

  Ignoring the assault of memories, Ezra crossed the room to retrieve the cookie jar. The apple-shaped bin looked as if it had been freshly dusted. He turned to glance around the neat kitchen. It, too, looked as if Granny Nell had only recently performed her weekly cleaning routine.

  “I try to keep things the way she left them.”

  Ezra looked toward the direction of the sound and found Sophie Comeaux standing in the doorway.

  “It’s the least I can do to honor my memory of her.”

  He managed a nod. Cradling the jar, he placed his hand over the stem-shaped lid and prepared to cross the minefield of his own memories. Somehow he made it, pressing past the framed pictures of his high school graduation and induction into the Marine Corps and the afghan she knitted the winter he suffered from the flu.

  At the door, Ezra thrust the jar into Sophie’s hands and took a step backward. An awkward silence fell between them until he caught hold of his senses and stepped toward the yard and the rental car waiting at the curb. He’d almost made it to the vehicle, keys in hand, when the childish voice called.

  “Wait, Mr. Landry. You can’t leave yet.”

  He did an about-face in the middle of the street to see the twins standing on the sidewalk. “Stay for supper,” the bold one said. “On account of I want to know where the empty squares on Amanda’s apron came from.”

  “Yeah, please,” Amanda said.

  What could it hurt? Just a few minutes to sit and write a couple of city names on a kid’s treasured possession.

  It sounded like such a harmless way to pass a half hour. He joined them for dinner, and the thirty minutes stretched to a full hour. After that came a steady diet of stories about Granny Nell, and one hour became two.

  Most of the tales were told by the girls, their
mother strangely silent as she went about the business of serving up grilled-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Ezra listened with what came close to contentment, soaking up the stories that filled the gaps since his last visit.

  The girls spoke of Nell as if she were still with them, an absent neighbor rather than a woman gone on to her reward. Somehow the feeling caught hold, and before long Ezra allowed it to sink in.

  He’d headed for the door with an excuse of an early wake-up call when the reality of the situation caught up with him. Tonight he’d spent one of the best evenings in recent memory with three females who would soon be homeless due to his actions. Suddenly the gift of the cookie jar didn’t seem quite so magnanimous.

  “Thank you for the hospitality,” he said as he averted his gaze from his hostess.

  The girls had finished washing the plates and were busy giggling behind the closed doors of their room. “Thank you for the jar. I’ll be sure to return it to Nell’s place as soon as I get a new one.”

  “No need,” he said hastily. “I’m sure my grandmother would have wanted you to have it.”

  He pressed past her to step into the slightly cooler evening air. Sucking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly. Only the feeling of being watched alerted him to the fact the woman stood behind him. Steeling himself, Ezra turned to face her.

  “I want you to know something, Mr. Landry.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the same no-nonsense look she’d given the girls before sending them to their room to prepare for bath time. “I appreciate the time you spent tonight with the girls. You were patient and kind and dealt with their questions well beyond the time when I could have handled them. You reminded the girls of Nell tonight both in your stories and in your manner. For that I am very appreciative.”

  Opening his mouth to respond, Ezra thought better of it and clamped his lips shut.

  “But there’s one thing I want you to understand. While I respect the fact that we share a deep love for Nell Landry, I must remind you that I do not share your opinion on what she intended to do with this house. In my opinion, your grandmother was crystal clear in her desire to give the girls and me a permanent home here.”

  Ezra whirled on his heels and strode toward the car, then threw open the door. Even from this distance, he could see the determination on the woman’s face.

  “We agree on one other thing, Miss Comeaux.” He leaned against the roof of the car, a tight grip on his keys. “The idea of my grandmother giving you and the girls half her home is merely your opinion. But the courts rely on facts and not opinions. I am, however, willing to allow you one month in which to vacate.”

  “I don’t need a month, sir. The answer is no.”

  What? Did she not realize what a generous offer he’d just made?

  He decided to make one more attempt. “Miss Comeaux, if you change your mind, you can find me through my attorney. His name is on the papers you received.”

  “I’m all too familiar with your attorney, Major Landry. And in the future I suggest that you speak to me through my—”

  “Major Landry?” Little Amanda stood beside her mother. “Do you go to our church?”

  Did he? At one time he could have answered with a resounding yes. Now, well, what church did he attend? “Yes,” he finally said, “I’ll be there on Sunday. Why?”

  She looked up at her mother before scampering down the porch steps toward him. Just short of the curb, she stopped. “Would you come home with us after church?”

  “Why?” was the nicest response he could come up with.

  For the answer, she came all the way toward him and wrapped her tiny hand in his. Something about the gesture made him believe this shy little girl did not befriend just anyone.

  “Because me and Chloe have a present for you.”

  Ezra knelt to meet her eye-to-eye. “Honey, you don’t have to give me a present.”

  “Yes, I do.” Her face turned solemn. “Miss Nell said so.”

  “Amanda.” Her mother’s voice held a warning tone as she strode over to kneel beside the child. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mommy, I can’t tell you now.” She looked up at Ezra, then back at Sophie. “Miss Nell made me promise it was a surprise—only Chloe and me kinda spilled water on it so now it has to dry.”

  “Spilled it on what?”

  “On the secret.”

  Ezra nodded as if he understood, which he didn’t. But then he’d never been one to contemplate the complexities of the female mind for long. He found it left him with a headache.

  Sophie Comeaux gave him a look that would freeze hot cider. A second later she managed a sweet smile in her daughter’s direction. “Well, sweetheart, Mr. Landry is a busy man. Can we bring the secret to church and give it to him there?”

  The girl seemed to consider the idea for a moment. “I suppose so.” Reluctance showed on Amanda’s face and couldn’t be missed in her voice. “But do we hafta? I like him.” She glanced in his direction and offered Ezra a gap-toothed smile. “He’s funny like Miss Nell.”

  Sophie stood to offer Ezra a frustrated look. “I suppose we will see you on Sunday then. I usually park behind the choir entrance, so let’s meet there after services.”

  It didn’t take an expert to know this female was not thrilled with the idea of seeing him again. Maybe he’d make it easy on the kid and tell her mama he’d accept whatever she had for him by mail. Better yet, through his attorney.

  He intended to say just that. Somehow, though, when he looked down into the little girl’s wide brown eyes, he heard himself say, “See you Sunday then.”

  Fourteen

  October 2

  With the girls’ soccer practice going on nearby, Sophie leaned back against the park bench and held up her thumb and forefinger. “I tell you, Bree—I felt this big.”

  “Why?”

  “I mean, we talk about turning the other cheek and heaping burning coals on the enemy’s head with our kindnesses, and I tried. But when I looked at the man who is trying to take my home away from me, I. . .” She paused to take a deep breath. “I’m ashamed to say I didn’t handle the situation very well.”

  She studied the box on the bench between them. A dozen juice boxes and a container of orange slices made for a colorful display, one the soccer players would demolish once their practice ended.

  “You fed the man, Soph. I don’t know if I would have let him in the house.” Bree rubbed her hands over her arms and shivered. “What time is it?”

  Sophie checked her watch. “Quarter to ten. Why?”

  Bree groaned. “How do you do it? It’s Saturday morning and freezing cold. Why can’t your girls watch cartoons until noon like proper young ladies?” When Sophie frowned, Bree held up her hands. “I’m only kidding. Auntie Bree is thrilled to go with you to soccer practice. I love those girls. Still, wasn’t it like a hundred degrees yesterday?”

  She glanced over at Bree’s lime green nylon jogging suit and matching sneakers with fur-trimmed socks, an outfit more at home in the mall than out at the soccer fields. A half-dozen silver bangles, designer sunglasses, and a pair of stylish pearl earrings completed the ensemble. Beneath the thin jacket, a white T-shirt was emblazoned with Jog written in green glitter.

  In comparison, Sophie’s Audubon Zoo sweatshirt, faded jeans, and well-worn running shoes were warm and comfortable. Like as not, Bree would be calling for cold meds before sun-down. In the meantime, though, her friend looked fabulous.

  “We had a blue norther, Bree, which you would have heard about had you been watching the news instead of the fashion channel.” Sophie followed Bree’s gaze and chuckled. “And as for coming to watch the girls, I’m thinking you wouldn’t mind going out with their coach either.”

  “Point number one, I don’t watch the fashion channel, dear. I make fashion, not follow it. You ought to know that by now.” She offered a broad smile and a flick of her wrist. The bangles jingled as they caught the light.

  “Yes
, you’ve got me there. I will concede that point, Counselor. Now, about the coach?”

  Bree cast a glance over to where the lone adult male on the field was putting ten girls through dribbling practice. “I barely noticed that handsome, single, godly deputy sheriff who always sits in front of me at Sunday services. I only have eyes for the girls.” She pointed to the field where Amanda and Chloe were racing along with the other girls. “Speaking of the twins, how did they handle your visitor? Did they know who he was?”

  “Yes, they knew,” she said. “And they were great.” Sophie sighed. “In fact, Amanda asked him to come back on Sunday.”

  Bree leaned back and shook her head. “He’s coming back to your house? You’re kidding?”

  “I didn’t say he was coming. I said Amanda invited him. I told him where I parked my car and said we would meet him after church.” At Bree’s confused look, she continued. “The girls have a gift for him. Something Nell wanted him to have.” Sophie sighed. “When I asked what that was, the girls said it was a secret. Honestly, I don’t like it, but I have to let them do this. It seems to be really important to them.”

  “A gift?” She shook her head. “For the man who’s trying to kick you and the girls to the curb? Oh, I have a gift for him all right.” Bree met her stare. “Seriously, Soph. What was he like? I’m asking as your attorney now, not just as your friend.”

  “He was. . . What do I say to describe a man bent on sending me out on my ear?”

  “Forget character sketches, Soph. Tell me your impression of the man. Was he sleazy, nice, mean, sneaky, what?”

  “He was nice to the girls, and I suppose one could argue he was nice to me. After all, he did offer me a great deal.”

  “Yeah,” Bree said. “A month’s free rent before eviction. Gotcha. What else do you recall about him?”

  A chill wind slithered past, and Sophie suppressed a shiver. “I don’t know, Bree. Does it matter?”

  “It matters.” Bree touched her arm. “Ideally I would like to get a feeling for what he’s like. I want to know what he thinks, what he believes, and anything else that will give me insight into what his side might throw at us in trial.”