I nodded. It wasn’t a paranoid request, it was a smart one, and I appreciated him for it. I leaned into his neck and took a deep breath. As usual, he smelled wonderful and being held by him had a completely calming effect on me. I instantly relaxed, and we spent the next several minutes making out like teenagers on the sofa.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Comfort food. Today called for comfort food, and I delivered it. Larry and Samantha had just been treated to Summer Chicken, which was my dad’s favorite fried chicken recipe. Potatoes, peas, and chicken were all cooked in the same skillet. The drippings were then used to make a rich sour cream and thyme sauce to pour over the entire dish. It was fattening and delicious. I made rhubarb pies for dessert.
Larry was leaning back in his chair while Mick and I cleared the table, and I knew he was debating as to whether or not he should unbutton his pants. “Oh, just get comfortable,” I told him with a laugh. He promptly undid the button, and I saw Samantha kick him under the table.
“That pie was fantastic,” she said. “Where did you get rhubarb this late in the season?”
“Mick went down to the market for me this afternoon,” I said. “I wasn’t sure what fruit I wanted, and when he called and said they had a few packages of rhubarb, I told him that would be perfect.”
“That was perfect pie alright,” Larry said rubbing his swollen belly. I laughed at him. It pleased me when my cooking turned out just right and was enjoyed.
“Well, I appreciate that you guys came over tonight,” I told them both. “I feel like a prisoner in my own home, and I really needed the diversion.”
“Dick said they’re not any closer to solving any of this than they were weeks ago,” Samantha said shaking her head.
Mick sat down with the cards and started shuffling. I refreshed everyone’s drink and sat down as well. He dealt the first hand and turned up the jack of hearts. I was flush with diamonds, so I passed on the heart, but hoped the call would come back around to me.
There was a knock at the door. I don’t know why it frightened me, but it did. I was almost fearful and looked at Mick with a slight shake of my head as if to say, “don’t answer it.”
He smiled at me, stood up, and strode over to open the door. In walked Detective Bentley. I felt the color drain from my face.
“Have a seat, Chuck,” Mick said pointing to his vacated seat at the table.
“No thanks. I won’t be long,” he said. He looked around the table, and I could tell he was weighing whether or not he should speak in front of Larry and Samantha. It seemed to dawn on him that Dick tells Larry police business anyway, so he went ahead with his comments. “We have the preliminary report from Lugnut about your car. Front and back brake lines were both tampered with. There were small punctures which allowed almost all of the fluid to leak out overnight. The brakes would have worked only for a pump or two before going out completely.”
I could feel the tears starting to well up in my eyes. “Did you tell Martin?” I asked.
“He knows,” the detective said. “And your insurance agent has been back over to talk with him, so Martin is settled down now and looking forward to putting safety glass in all of his windows.
“Why would someone mess with Susan’s brakes?” Mick asked.
Detective Bentley appeared even more tired than he did the last time he was here. “We can only surmise someone who’s heard the rumors that she’s behind the break-ins did it as revenge.” He looked to me and asked, “When are you leaving for New Orleans?”
“Day after tomorrow. Monday,” I told him.
“Good,” he said. “I think it’s a good idea for you to leave town right now. With your car at the garage, and you out of town, it might make it easier for our guys to catch the thief.”
“Do you know about the news article coming out in the paper on Monday?” Mick asked him.
“I do,” he said tiredly. “There’s nothing we can do about it. First amendment and all that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big first amendment kind of guy, but this story is going to inflame things around here, and that’s why it’ll be good for Susan to be out of town.”
Samantha nodded at me. I knew she and Larry were worried about the rumors, and they had both expressed their relief I would be gone for a while.
Detective Bentley excused himself, and Mick walked him to the door.
“Who wants more pie?” I asked as Mick came back to the table. I went to the kitchen to cut another piece. I knew I was ready for another round of comfort food.
Chapter Six
“Oh my gosh, Nate! Where are we?” I griped from the back seat.
The windows of the rented car were down, and the stifling heat and humidity were wreaking havoc on me. My hair was stuck to the back of my neck, my arms were sticking to the seat backs as I leaned my head forward into the front seat, and tiny beads of perspiration were trickling down the side of my face. Darby and Nate seemed as happy as two pigs in mud in the heat and humidity. I hated them both.
We had been on the road for an hour, and I knew we were driving away from New Orleans, especially since we had traveled over open water for at least half of the ride. Nate was still extolling the virtues of Lake Pontchartrain, but I was having none of it. “Are we almost there?” I whined louder.
Darby laughed and said, “Susan, stop. You’re going to love this place. It’s an old plantation that’s been in Nate’s family since before the Civil War. His Aunt Sony and Uncle Alfred have lived there for over 50 years, and they still take care of the house and the grounds. She said she’ll have lunch ready for us when we arrive, and you’ll feel better after you eat.”
I flopped back into the seat and felt my arms stick to the leather. I folded them across my body to keep them away from the seat. I was miserable.
Mick and I had stayed up late talking last night. He was still concerned about my coming to New Orleans without him, but we arranged for specific times to be in touch with each other, and I was relieved to see he was much calmer when we finally stopped talking and went to bed. It was another hour before we came up for air and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
The lack of sleep, the early morning flight, and now the sticky, insufferable heat was threatening to send me over the edge with crankiness.
Darby had his knees braced against the dash with a map unfolded across them. “We’re almost there,” he said. “It looks like we turn off onto Dirt Road in about three miles.”
I sat up and stuck my head through the opening between the two front seats again. “Dirt Road?” I asked. “We’re going to a plantation which just happens to be on a road called Dirt Road?” That was the last straw. Rather than to cry from frustration and crankiness, I started to giggle from the absurdity of it all. We were unnecessarily saving money by staying with Nate’s 80-something great-aunt and great-uncle for two nights, we would have the experience of staying in a historical landmark, which may or may not be four-star accommodations, and Nate would get to revisit much-loved memories – from when he was a kid.
“That’s what it says on the map,” Darby said holding it up and trying to show me. “It isn’t capitalized, it’s simply labeled dirt road.”
My giggle turned to laughter. The GPS couldn’t find the address, so we had stopped at a gas station to buy the map before leaving civilization. There hadn’t been any houses or buildings to see along the two-lane road for endless miles now, and we hadn’t passed any other vehicles.
“Slow down, Nate,” Darby said. “I think it’s just ahead on your left.”
Sure enough, an old, wooden, handmade sign with an arrow signaled the turnoff. It simply read, dirt road.
Upon seeing the sign, my laughter took a hysterical turn. It must have been contagious because Darby was soon laughing, too, and even if he was irritated with us, Nate couldn’t hold back laughter himself.
“I was a little kid when I was here,” he said defensively. “I don’t remember this being called dirt road.”
It too
k a few moments for our laughter to subside, and we all peered down the road awaiting the first glimpse of the mansion. The trees were thick on either side of the road and blocked out all but little wisps of sunlight here and there. Spanish moss hung heavily from the trees and created a creepy atmosphere as we traveled down the road. The temperature was at least 15 degrees cooler in the densely shaded area. I felt a chill run up my spine and looked around to be sure there was nothing in the backseat with me.
“I always thought of this as a lane,” Nate said. “Dad used to talk about driving back the lane to Aunt Sony’s place. It seems much farther than I remember, too, but we should come right out into a circular drive in front of the house.”
A few minutes later, the trees parted, and we did, indeed, come into a clearing which turned the road into a wide, circular driveway. Our mouths hung open in astonishment. Nate pulled in front of the house and turned off the engine. It was so quiet in the car, you could have heard a snail crawl.
I threw myself back against the seat as uncontrollable laughter once again gushed out.
“Shhh! Shhh!” Darby was shushing at me with his finger to his lips. “Susan! They’re going to hear you.”
His words brought forth another peal of laughter. I flopped over onto the seat and slapped my hand over my mouth in an effort to muffle the sound. Nate stepped out of the car and looked around.
The land may have been a plantation at one time, but this was no Tara. The house was a large, two-story, wooden structure, which had been painted many years ago in a pink color with hunter green trim. The paint was weathered, faded, and peeling. A wide, wooden staircase leading to a wrap-around porch was at the center of the building. A few trees laden with Spanish moss were close around the sides and back of the house giving it a creepy vibe like we experienced on the dirt road.
My laughter finally spent, I sat up.
“You ok now?” Darby asked with a look which implied he was partially entertained and partially disgusted.
“I think so,” I told him with a big smile. “I’ve been under so much stress lately, I think it helped to get all of that laughter out.”
“Good,” he said as he opened the door to exit the car.
I stepped out as well and turned to face Nate. I felt sorry for him. His memory wasn’t matching what he was seeing, and his disappointment was palatable. I fumbled for some words to ease his disappointment, but before I could find them, an elderly woman stepped out onto the porch.
Nate’s face lit up, and he yelled, “Aunt Sony!” as he ran up the steps and lifted the small woman into a bear hug.
“Nathaniel! Put me down,” she giggled in protest as she pushed her granny glasses back in place and smoothed her short, curly, gray hair. She was wearing a floral, cotton dress with a full apron, and she sported tennis shoes on her feet.
Nate waved a hand at Darby and me and said excitedly, “Come on up here. This is Aunt Sony!”
It warmed my heart to see his joy. Darby and I walked up the weathered steps and onto the covered porch. Nate said, “Aunt Sony, this is my friend, Darby, and this is our friend, Susan.”
She smiled sweetly and nodded to both of us. “I’m so glad you could come. Alfred and I don’t get many visitors, and it’s such a pleasure to have y’all here.” Her gaze returned to Nate, and she said, “It’s been so many years, Nathaniel. You’ve grown up into such a fine man, and you look just like your dad.”
“And you haven’t changed a bit, Aunt Sony,” Nate told her affectionately. “You’re as pretty as I remember.”
“Oh, you silly boy,” she said with another giggle. “Come on in all of you. Lunch is almost ready.”
We walked into a large, open foyer with high ceilings. A dining room with a set table was to our right, and a large open kitchen was to our left. I could see a small living room off of the kitchen, and a larger living room off of the dining room. I supposed one of them would be considered a sitting room or a parlor. A hallway directly in front of us led to a staircase. It was obvious everything in the house was old, and most of the furnishings were probably antiques. The wallpapers were outdated with large flowers and faded colors. But everything also appeared to be clean, and there was a welcomeness to the home.
“The bathroom is upstairs if you’d all like to wash up before eating,” she said as she filled a large ornate pitcher with warm water and handed it to Nate.
Nate smiled and motioned for us to follow him. Darby and I filed behind him up the wooden staircase to the second floor. Stepping onto the top landing was like stepping into a huge, open room. In the center of the room was a large, rectangular hole opening onto the hallway below. The hole had a wooden rail around it, and hardwood flooring made wide walkways around the opening. To our left were three closed doors. At the end of the room was a window opened to a view of the front yard. To our right were three more doors. Two of the doors were closed, but the center door was open, and the large bathroom could easily be seen.
There was an echo as we walked across the old, linoleum floor of the bathroom. A clawfoot bathtub was next to a window overlooking the side yard, and a toilet was affixed about two feet from the bathtub. An antique walnut washstand with an oval mirror was only a few feet from the toilet. The rest of the room was open floor space, and you could have easily held a party here with twenty of your closest friends.
I looked around and whispered to the guys, “There’s no sink.” Nate laughed and pointed to the wash basin in the stand. It matched the pitcher he was carrying. “What are we supposed to do with that?” I asked him in disbelief.
“Susan, haven’t you ever used a wash bowl before?” Darby asked with a laugh.
“No. Do we all share the same water?” I asked with my eyes wide.
“That’s the idea,” Nate said with a chuckle, “but you can go first. Stand over here, and let me pour water over your hands. You can wash your face and hands pretty easily.”
Nate slowly poured water into my cupped hands, and I worked quickly to wash the dust and sweat from my face and hands with a bar of soap from a small dish. Darby handed a towel to me from the bottom of the stand and asked, “Don’t you go camping?”
“No!” I told him while drying off and rubbing the damp towel across the back of my neck. “I hate camping. My idea of camping is to stay in the lodge at a nice campground.”
“Susan, you’re such a tomboy, I can’t believe you don’t like to camp,” Darby said laughing.
Nate poured the rest of the water into the basin, and both guys stripped off their shirts and practically took a bath in the small bowl. They shared the water as they splashed it over their faces, necks, arms, hands, and torsos. There was something sexy about watching the two good-looking guys wash up. I almost started laughing again, but was able to restrain myself and hoped my wildly fluctuating emotions would come under control after eating lunch.
Shirts back on, Darby used his towel to mop up the water-splattered floor, and the three of us filed back down the stairs to the kitchen where Aunt Sony ushered us into the dining room. An elderly man, whom we hadn’t seen before, and whom I assumed to be Uncle Alfred, was already seated. He smiled a bright smile as we walked in and moved to the chairs around the table.
“Nathaniel, my boy, it’s good to see you again,” he said in a weak but cheerful voice.
Nate walked over and leaned down to give the man a hug. “It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Alfred. I’ve missed you and Aunt Sony.”
Nate introduced us to his uncle, and Aunt Sony said, “Everyone have a seat. Let’s eat while the food’s hot.”
The table was loaded down with Cajun catfish, fried chicken, red beans and rice, grits, fried green tomatoes, corn relish, figs, and freshly baked bread. It smelled heavenly, and my mouth was watering as I slid into my seat.
Nate and his Aunt did most of the talking over the delicious meal. There were many stories told of the antics of Nate and his cousins as they played throughout the house and around the property. Darby and I
laughed out loud several times as Aunt Sony told stories with as much expression as Nate did.
A sublime, warm, cherry-pecan bread pudding was served for dessert. Afterward, I knew how Larry felt two nights ago, and I wanted to unbutton the button on my cotton capris.
Uncle Alfred retired to a chair in the small living room off of the kitchen to tune the radio to the afternoon baseball game. The rest of us cleared the table. Darby and I started hand washing and drying the dishes while encouraging Nate and his aunt to go sit down and visit. After a few protestations, they gave in and went out onto the porch.
“Well, Susan, what do you think? It’s not as bad as you first thought, is it?” Darby asked.
“No, it’s actually kind of wonderful here, isn’t it?” I said with a big smile. “Nate’s aunt and uncle are nice, and I wish we had more time to spend with them this week. Isn’t Aunt Sony a hoot? She tells stories every bit as good as Nate.”
“I know,” he said shaking his head and chuckling.
We finished up the dishes, put away everything we could without being snoopy, and headed out to join Nate and his aunt.
Darby and I pulled wicker rocking chairs from one end of the porch down to the other where Nate and Aunt Sony were sitting together on a wicker loveseat. It was hot and sticky outside, but it wasn’t bothering me like it had on the drive in.
After visiting for about an hour, Darby and Nate decided to go for a walk. I was concerned to see them head off in the direction of the forest, but Aunt Sony assured me there was a path to a pond and Nate knew where he was going.
She looked at me with a sly grin and asked, “Are the two boys living together now?”
My eyes went wide, and I didn’t know what to say. What had Nate told her about Darby? I didn’t want to say anything if the guys wanted to be discreet, and I didn’t know if she was fishing for information. I started to fumble for some words, but Aunt Sony looked intently at me and said, “You do know they’re gay, don’t you?”
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