Dwelling Place

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “And third,” Ezra added, “he doesn’t have a clue how to bake a decent apple pie.”

  “Now wait just a minute. It’s you who has no clue how to bake an apple pie.” He turned to Sophie. “I’ll be honest with you, Miss Comeaux.”

  “The world’s first honest lawyer,” Ezra interjected before giving his friend a playful shove.

  Calvin shoved back but otherwise looked completely undisturbed. “As I was saying, Ezra convinced me to accompany him despite grave reservations on my part. The real reason I’m here is to show him my pie is much better than anything he could dream up in his feeble mind.”

  Ezra doubled over with laughter. “Is that so? Well, Sophie, just so you know, my pie is an old family recipe. I think you will find it has exceptional flavor and a superior crust.” He said that last part in what she assumed was a dead-on imitation of his friend Calvin.

  “Well, why don’t we just set our pies out and let Miss Comeaux decide which is best.”

  “It’s Sophie, and no, thank you. I don’t believe I will judge these pies. Why don’t we let the guests decide?”

  “Hey, Soph, you have any more garden shears? These don’t seem to be—” Bree stopped in her tracks and broke into a grin. “Well, hello, gentlemen.”

  “Bree, this is Ezra Landry. He’s brought Calvin Dubose with him. Major Dubose, that is.

  “Gentlemen, this is Bree Jackson.”

  “You’re Bree Jackson?” Calvin’s shock was unmistakable. “You sound so different on the phone.”

  “Different from what, Counselor?” She broadened her smile. “What were you expecting? No, wait. Don’t tell me. I’m sure I would be offended.”

  Ezra’s attorney looked flustered. “Yes, well, I suppose. I should apologize.”

  “Apologies are nice, but a man who can fix garden shears is even better.” A moment later Bree had the attorney following her out the back door, shears in hand.

  “How did she do that?” Ezra walked to the window and shook his head. “That woman tamed the mighty beast in under sixty seconds. You wouldn’t believe how much he complained on the drive over here.” He turned to face her. “That’s why we got here so quickly.”

  Sophie shrugged. “Happens all the time. I think it’s one of her spiritual gifts.”

  “Interesting.” He gave her a strange look. “Something’s different. Your hair.”

  She patted her messy do and contemplated running from the room to repair the damage. To that end she took a step backward.

  “It looks. . .um, nice.” The statement seemed to cost him as he leaned back against the counter. Clapping his hands, he straightened. “So what can I do to help you with the barbecue?”

  Nice? Did he say she looked nice?

  Sophie smoothed the front of her sweater and shifted positions. Their gazes locked, and for a moment she let go of the idea that this man was her enemy in favor of seeing him as a man.

  “It’s not necessary, really.”

  He walked toward her, and her heart did a flip-flop. When he brushed past her to reach for the salad ingredients Bree had left on the table, Sophie inhaled deeply of his aftershave, then felt guilty. He is the man trying to evict you, idiot.

  “How about I make the salad?” he asked.

  “Sure. I never did learn how to do that very well.”

  “Knives?”

  She walked over to the cutlery drawer and opened it. “Which one?”

  Ezra leaned in close. “The sharpest one.”

  Again she inhaled. This time no guilt followed. The man certainly smelled nice.

  “No sharp knives in this kitchen. I’ve got little ones.” She looked up into dark eyes that were far too close for comfort. “Sorry.”

  The eyes blinked. “I think I can make do.”

  “Suit yourself.” She stepped back and reached for the boiled eggs, praying over the next words she would speak. “I’m glad you decided to come. I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable here.”

  He set the knife down and turned to face her. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  Twenty-two

  “I do mean it, Ezra.” Sophie placed the eggs on the counter and reached into the cabinet beneath it for the stockpot. She set the pot in the sink, positioning it under the faucet.

  Chloe rounded the corner and launched herself into the marine’s arms. Amanda followed suit, leaving Ezra with a seven-year-old on each arm.

  “Hey there, girls,” he said as he twirled them around before setting them back on their feet. “Wow! That was quite a greeting.”

  “We finished your present,” Chloe said. “Want me to get it?”

  “Me, too?” Amanda said.

  “Sure.” He watched them race down the hall only to return seconds later and hand him a package wrapped in brown paper that had once been a grocery bag. It was now covered in ribbons, glitter, and drawings made by both girls.

  “Open it,” Amanda said as she skittered to Sophie’s side.

  “All right, I will.”

  He pulled out a chair and settled at the dining table, placing the gift in front of him. Chloe seated herself beside him. Being careful not to tear the wrapping, he slowly revealed a brown book.

  “It’s Granny Nell’s diary,” Amanda said.

  “Her journal,” Chloe corrected. “One of them anyway. She had lots on account of she’s old, but this is the one she wanted you to have.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She told us that day on the porch,” Amanda said. “That day she went to her house for cookies and didn’t come back until Mommy found her reading her Bible to Jesus.”

  “She wasn’t reading her Bible to Jesus, Amanda. You always get that wrong. She was reading her Bible when Jesus came and took her with Him.” Chloe’s expression softened. “We didn’t go to the funeral ’cause we’re gonna see her someday in heaven.”

  “Mommy said we needed to remember her alive because the lady in the box wasn’t our Granny Nell. That was just her earth suit.” Amanda looked up at Sophie for confirmation. “Her best parts are in heaven.”

  “That’s right, baby.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “They sure are.”

  Ezra leafed through the book, then turned his attention to Sophie. “Did you know about this?”

  “We kept it a secret, even from Mommy, because it was supposed to be a surprise,” Chloe said. “Mommy only lets us keep secrets about presents. Those are good secrets so it’s okay.”

  “Sounds like your mommy is right.” He closed the cover and placed the folded wrapping paper inside. “This is very special, girls. Thank you very much.”

  Amanda crossed the kitchen to stand beside Ezra. “It was Granny Nell’s idea. She made us promise. And my mommy says you never make a promise unless you’re going to do it.”

  “Girls,” Bree called, “are you coming back out here? I need some more help.”

  The twins raced back outside, leaving Sophie with mixed emotions. All at once she wanted to smile and cry. Ezra seemed to be dealing with the same issue as he blinked hard and swiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

  “I told you when I invited you that I believed if you got to know the girls and me you would see what your grandmother meant to us. And what we meant to her. I didn’t know what the girls had planned, though, and that’s the truth.”

  Ezra’s expression went from confused to something Sophie couldn’t quite define. “So you aren’t going to try to talk me out of the lawsuit?”

  “Honestly?” Sophie hit the hot-water faucet and watched as the stockpot began to fill. “I don’t think I will have to.”

  “Oh?” He grinned and pointed outside where Bree had the stoic attorney laughing and arranging flowers in a vase. “You’re not going to sic her on me, are you? Wait. You already did.”

  “Only in self-defense, Ezra. You started it. I’m just trying to show you there’s another option.”

  He seemed to consider her statement. “That’s where we differ, Sophie.” />
  They stood there like a couple of idiots until the bell rang. “Doorbell,” Sophie said.

  “Yes,” Ezra said. “Doorbell.”

  “Would you excuse me?” Sophie grabbed the dish towel and wiped her hands.

  “Wait.”

  Ezra caught her arm as she walked past, and her unsteady heels gave way. She stumbled and fell into his arms. In a swift motion, he righted her and took a step backward. The look on his face was pure shock.

  “I’m really sorry, Sophie. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Well, isn’t this nice? I see you two are getting acquainted.” Sophie looked past Ezra to find Miss Emmeline standing in the doorway with a Bundt cake. “I hope you don’t mind. The doorbell must be broken. I let myself in.”

  “Oh, no, of course,” Sophie said.

  Ding-dong.

  Miss Emmeline grinned. “Guess the doorbell fixed itself. Why don’t I go answer it while you two go back to whatever you were doing?”

  “Actually I was making a salad,” Ezra said a bit too quickly.

  “And I was boiling eggs.”

  The church secretary gave them an amused look. “Of course you were, my dears,” she said as she headed toward the door, giggling. “Young people these days,” she said as she opened the door and shouted a greeting.

  “That went well,” Sophie muttered as she followed Miss Emmeline to the door, kicking her dangerous heels under the sofa as she passed by.

  Soon guests filled the house and spilled into the backyard. Sophie shuffled plates of food to make room on the counter, then gave up and moved the buffet to the picnic table. Thankfully the weather was mild, just as the weatherman predicted. By the time the stars began to dot the sky and the floodlight came on, folks had settled into groups and were enjoying the evening.

  Mr. Arceneaux from the Dip Cone brought his fiddle, and the boys from Latagnier Auto were warming up to play on the makeshift stage in the corner of the yard. In all, the evening had been exhausting but wonderful.

  Sophie joined Bree and the girls at the back step and half listened as her friend entertained her daughters with stories of her childhood. “And they even made us work in the garden.”

  “Ugh. Mommy says she will do that, too, if we ever have a garden that grows something besides weeds.” Sophie looked up to see that Ezra had joined their group.

  “What’s wrong with a garden that grows weeds?” Ezra tickled Amanda, then Chloe. “I happen to think weeds are some of the more low-maintenance plants in today’s gardening world.”

  When the girls giggled, he continued. “Say, did you have any of that salad I made?”

  “Yes. Was it made from weeds?” Chloe asked before succumbing to a fit of giggles.

  “Well, as a matter of fact, it was.”

  Both girls squealed.

  “I wondered why it tasted so good,” Bree said. “You must have removed all the bitterroot. That one always ruins things. Bitterness generally does, you know.”

  He looked for a moment as though he might comment in depth. Then Ezra shook his head. “Pun intended?”

  “I’ll let you decide.” Bree grasped the twins’ hands. “Come—let’s see what we can find on the dessert table. I think Mrs. Gentry brought homemade ice cream. It’s not pistachio, but I hear it’s pretty good.”

  Sophie watched Bree lead the girls to the picnic table, then cast a glance back in her direction. She was surprised to see Ezra settle in their place.

  “I’ve been talking to Miss Emmeline, or rather she’s been talking to me.”

  She leaned forward to see his face. “About?”

  “This Founders’ Day thing. She has some ideas she wants to run past us, but first we need to discuss our plans.”

  “Ah.” Sophie studied her short nails. “But we have no plans.”

  “That’s the point. I think we should get some plans. Maybe meet and talk about it.”

  “Sure.”

  The music rose, silencing their conversation. Sophie leaned back against the rail and let the melody transport her to a time when her daddy let her dance in his arms to this very song. Eyes closed, she moved her bare feet in time with the waltz.

  When the music stopped, she opened them again and found Ezra staring at her. “Where were you just now?”

  “What?” She shook her head and straightened her posture. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you at peace.”

  Sophie pushed a tendril of hair from her eyes. “I’m not usually this stressed out.” She fixed her gaze on Ezra. “I’ve had some rather worrisome things going on. Lawsuits, evictions, and such.”

  To his credit Ezra ducked his head. “Yeah, I guess you have.”

  Several couples from the church approached in a group. “Lovely evening, Sophie. Thank you for inviting us,” one of the men said.

  “We’ll say our good nights early,” another added. “The alarm clock will be going off way too soon.”

  Ezra checked his watch after they left. “It’s only seven thirty. Even Calvin over there can make it until nine.

  “Hey, Cal, dish me up some of that homemade vanilla, would you? No frills or toppings, just the ice cream.” He nudged Sophie. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks. I’m stuffed.”

  “Suit yourself. Just one,” he called to Calvin. “The lady’s stuffed.”

  “Oh, great. Did you have to say that out loud?”

  Sophie looked past Ezra to the picnic table. Calvin had joined Bree and the girls and was currently decorating their ice cream with sprays of whipped cream from a can he held high. To the delight of the girls, he occasionally squirted a bit of the cream into their open palms.

  “Looks like the lawyers have set their briefcases aside for the night.” Ezra glanced up at the moon, then back at Sophie. “Maybe we ought to set aside our differences, too. Temporarily,” he added hastily.

  “Temporarily? Like a truce?”

  He shook his head. “Actually I was thinking more like a cease-fire.”

  “Until when?”

  Ezra sighed. “That’s the funny thing about cease-fires. They can last indefinitely.”

  Twenty-three

  “Soph, can you handle things? I’m going to catch a ride with Calvin since my car’s making that funny noise again.” She paused to smile at Calvin. “Normally I would walk, but since it’s dark, Calvin would rather see me home safely.”

  Bree stood in the kitchen with a grin and a pleading look. Behind her was the formerly somber and smartly dressed Major Dubose. He now wore a broad smile and a mustard stain just below his collar.

  “Sure, go on. I’m fine. I’ve got it all under control. That’s the beauty of paper plates.”

  Ezra strolled through carrying four black garbage bags. “I’m heading for the curb. Any more trash in here?”

  Sophie handed him the bag full of soiled plates, napkins, and cups. “That’s the last of it. I’m done. The kitchen is officially closed. I’ll walk you out.”

  She trailed the pair to the porch, then leaned against the railing while Calvin opened the car door for Bree and helped her in. While Calvin trotted around to climb into the driver’s seat, Ezra walked back to the porch. He reached to shake her hand, then held it instead.

  “Tell the girls again how much I appreciate their gift, would you?”

  She forced her attention away from the feel of her hand in his. “You already did a good job of letting them know, Ezra.”

  He nodded. For a moment she thought Ezra might say more. Rather, he smiled. Still, he held tight to her hand.

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “And thank you for coming. I hope you’ve seen what you needed to see.”

  “I’ll admit it wasn’t what I expected.” Almost imperceptibly his grip tightened. “Not at all.”

  Under the porch light, his hair looked lighter, his eyes darker. His square chin still held a defiant pose, but the smile on his lips was nearly go
ne.

  “Did we disappoint you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  She plucked her hand from his grasp and wrapped her arms around her chest, taking a step back as she absorbed the news. “I’m terribly sorry, Ezra. I hoped we might have helped you to understand what life is like here in this house. What we are like.”

  He stepped toward her, hands at his side. “That’s just the problem, Sophie,” he said. “You have.”

  “Hey, Marine,” Calvin called, “time to retreat.”

  Ezra looked over his shoulder to nod. “Be right there.” When he returned his attention to Sophie, he wore a confused look. “I don’t know how you did it, but you talked me into being here tonight without saying a word. And I have to tell you: I risked losing my lawyer over this.”

  Tracing the groove on the porch railing with her forefinger, she avoided his scrutinizing gaze. “Really? How did I do that?”

  Straightening his shoulders, he leaned in her direction. “Back at church when you, well, never mind. You just did.”

  Sophie felt the oddest urge to give the man a hug. “Oh,” she gasped as good sense overtook her. “You’re forgetting the journal. I’ll go get it.”

  By the time she retrieved the journal and the two clean pie pans off the table, the urge had mostly passed and logic prevailed. Ezra Landry was her opponent in this battle to keep a roof over her girls’ heads. Sure, under other conditions, she might have given him a second glance, but even then the fact that he was a marine would have stopped her cold.

  No, she’d get over this odd attraction to him by morning. The feelings surging in her were obviously a trick of the night and a result of her long and exhausting day.

  She stepped onto the porch to find him waiting in the same spot where she left him. Wiping her free hand on the back of her jeans, she crossed the old wooden boards.

  “I found these, too,” she said as she handed him the pie pans along with the journal.

  Ezra chuckled. “Calvin and I forgot all about the competition. Guess we’ll never know whose pie was best.”

  “Guess not,” she said.

  He took a step forward and looked down into her eyes. “You liked mine best, didn’t you?”