by D'Ann Lindun
Now he was here? Five years too late? Her ears rang and her knees threatened to buckle. She grabbed the door for support and held on until her knuckles turned white. When Trey reached for her she shook her head. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
Jody’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She forced herself to focus on him.
“Summer? May we come in? You look a little shaky.”
“I can’t let Mama see … him.” Glancing over her shoulder she was relieved to see Mama still intent on her TV program. Apparently, she hadn’t heard the knock on the door or the subsequent conversation.
The stairs didn’t seem big enough for all of them. Jody Marvell was enormous — well over six feet tall and weighing more than two hundred pounds. He was famous in Juliet, but he seemed to disappear next to Trey. Although not as heavy, and a bit taller than Jody, Trey seemed to suck up all of her air.
Her breath rushed out of her lungs, making it hard to focus. Every cell in her body tingled with awareness of him. Telling herself he was nothing more than a memory, she tried to calm down.
He’d changed, but yet not at all. He’d always seemed so unaware of his effect on her. As a child and a teen, he’d been beautiful, but even she had no idea how stunning he would become as an adult. Wherever he’d been it had sculpted his face into defined, angular planes. His short haircut showed off dark eyes that seared her soul and a full-lipped mouth that could kiss like sin itself. And what he could do with his hands …
Summer mentally shook herself. Was she drooling? She resisted the urge to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. “What brings you out here?” she finally rasped. Her voice sounded as rough as his.
The clouds opened up and rain poured out of them but no one moved.
“It’s about your brother,” Jody responded. “He … ”
“Something’s happened to Jace?” Her breaths came in short, fast gasps. Had someone harmed him? Angola was one of the worst prisons in the country. The warden held the men’s lives in his hands like he was God. He hadn’t approved her for visitation because she complained about the conditions in which her brother was housed. She shot Trey a venomous look. The last person she wished to discuss this with was him.
“The Chief sent me out here to tell you your brother escaped from Angola today. A bus overturned carrying prisoners — Jace among them. He and another man are still on the run.” Jody wore a cop expression. Serious, subdued. He wiped his rain soaked face with one big hand. “Have you heard from him?”
She couldn’t focus on him. “No, I didn’t know. We haven’t heard … I don’t understand.”
Lightning cracked again, lighting up the three of them like scarecrows. Drenched by the downpour, Trey looked like some kind of sex god. Clothes molding to his body, outlining every impressive muscle. Even though heat shot through her like a body slam, she refused to be moved.
“Has Jace come here?” Jody pressed.
She glared at him, willing herself to stand up to his questions. “You mean my brother, the boy you both went to school with, the one you both played football with for longer than I can remember? No, I haven’t seen Jace since the day he was taken away in handcuffs.”
Trey looked at her with something like guilt or remorse flickering in his eyes. “We think Jace is probably headed this way. The Chief wanted us to check and see if Jace has come home.”
“Why should I care what the Chief wants?” She folded her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Your father doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about us. No one ought to know better than you.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. Good. Score. Trey Bouché and his incompetent father were the reason her baby brother spent the last five years behind barbed wire and brick walls with no way out but in the back of a coroner’s wagon.
“The Chief does care.” Trey looked as sick as she felt. “He’s also worried Jace may do something stupid. If you think that might happen … ”
“It won’t.” She cut him off. “I’m going inside.”
“Just a minute,” Jody insisted. “We assume Jace is headed here. Be on the alert.”
Summer’s head swam. She couldn’t focus. All she could take in was her brother somehow broke out of Angola and might show up here. And Trey was home. The combination was too much to process.
“Summer,” Trey warned, “just be careful.”
She stared at him through narrowed eyes and tight lips. “Stay out of my family’s problems. We’re none of your business.”
“I just wanted you and your mama to know about Jace so you weren’t frightened if he shows up.” He reached for her again and she dodged his hand.
“I said don’t.” Mama. What this news might do to her was unthinkable. “If I see Jace, I’ll welcome him with open arms.” She wiped the rain off her face with shaking hands and reached for the doorknob. “Please just go.”
Jody stepped off the stoop. “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch. Remember one thing, though. Aiding and abetting is a crime.”
As Trey turned to follow Jody, he paused. “If I can help–”
Summer laughed, if the noise coming out of her throat could be called laughter. It was more like a strangled gasp. The sound grated on her ears. “Help me? Or Jace? Like you helped us last time? No, thanks. I don’t think we need your kind of assistance.” She dared him to argue.
“Your brother killed a man in cold blood. I saw the evidence dripping off his hands with my own eyes. What did you want me to do?” His lips turned down and his voice went icy. “Lie?”
Yes. No. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? She wanted to rail at him, but instead she fixed a stone-cold glare on him. “All the help you can give me is to leave me and my brother alone.”
“I can’t do that.” Rain ran down his face in rivulets, but he seemed unaware of it. “I’m going to prove once and for all your brother killed Soloman. Then you’ll have to face the fact Jace is where he belongs no matter how much we both hate it.” He turned and walked away, joining Jody in the car.
Once they were gone, she collapsed on the step in the soaking rain. Her body shook with shock.
Jace free.
Trey back.
She didn’t know which one was more upsetting. One was almost as crazy as the other. Jace escaped from behind the fences of the most notorious prison in Louisiana, the country. After five long years of silence, Trey showed up on her doorstep as if it were yesterday. Offering his help, even. The nerve. Why did her traitorous heart beat just a little faster at the thought of him back in Juliet?
Mama opened the door. “Why are you out in the rain? It’s almost nine and our TV program is about to start.”
Remorse gripped Summer as she looked up into her mother’s scarred face. Even though she had done nothing wrong, she felt terrible every time she made her mother worry or become nervous. The weight wore heavy on her shoulders at times. She stood. “I’m sorry, Mama. I lost track of time.”
She hated lying to her mother, but she hated the consequences of telling her the truth even more. She stood, stepped inside and closed the door.
Mama instantly locked it. “I don’t like you out in the rain.” Her gaze darted around the familiar room. “I’m afraid of what could happen.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I promise. Let’s get a drink of water so you can take your medicine.” With a firm, gentle grasp, Summer herded Mama through the spotless front room, into the kitchen. The dishes were done, the floor swept clean. Mama’s problem — agoraphobia — kept her locked prisoner inside. With little to do, she kept the house immaculate. Summer sighed deeply. She longed for the old days when Mama laughed and played freely. At times, she even left the dinner dishes on the table and raced outside with her children to catch lightning bugs in canning jars or go down to the creek to fish for crawdads.
Keeping
her head turned away in case Mama could read her face, Summer filled a glass with water and unscrewed the cap on the medicine bottle.
“What’s going on?” Mama plucked at the sleeve of Summer’s wet shirt.
“Nothing.” She kept her gaze down. It wouldn’t do to frighten her. “Why do you think something’s the matter?”
Mama peered over Summer’s shoulder into the dark window. “I thought I heard a car drive up a few minutes ago. It’s got me rattled.” With each word her voice raised a notch. “Who came here?”
“Nobody for you to worry about.” Reluctantly, she turned and faced her mother. The signs of an oncoming fit were apparent. Mama’s face tightened, her lips pinched, her eyes squinted tight. Fear had taken control. “Mama, please calm down. I stayed outside a little longer than I meant to is all.”
The worry didn’t fade from her eyes, but her tone lowered. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like it when you’re out on a night like this.”
“I know,” Summer murmured. When Mama got upset, the best thing to do was stay as calm as possible. “But nothing happened. See? I’m just a little damp.”
She never lied to her mother, but in the space of two minutes she’d told three whoppers. She couldn’t continue this charade. “Mama, sit down, please.”
“What is it?” She perched on the edge of a chair, wringing her hands.
“Jody Marvell came out here tonight.” Mama wasn’t going to take this well. There was no easy way around it either. Summer dragged in a deep breath. “He was with Trey Bouché.”
Instantly, wounded disbelief clouded Mama’s eyes. Summer rushed on. “They came to tell us something. You need to hear it, too.”
“No.” She shook her head from side to side and clutched it with both hands. “You can’t mean it. Not a Bouché. You know what they have done to this family. To Jace. To me.”
Summer knelt beside Mama, pulling her hands into her own. Then she pleaded on deaf ears. “Trey isn’t the Chief … ” They never, ever spoke of the past. Or of the people who changed their lives forever. All dead subjects. Speaking their names now was a sacrilege.
Mama stumbled to her feet, knocked over her chair, and rushed out of the room with her hands over her ears, howling like a wounded animal.
Summer ran after her and found Mama facedown across her bed, shoulders heaving.
“No, no, no.”
Sinking down on the bed, Summer stroked her mama’s back with gentle strokes and murmured soft words of comfort.
Finally, Mama rolled over. Her scarred face twisted grotesquely — her mouth an angry slash, eyes swollen and tear-stained, and hair splayed wildly about her head. She looked like she belonged in an asylum.
No. Mama’s mind was sick, but she wasn’t crazy.
Summer feared telling her the rest of it. That Jace escaped. If Mama caught even a glimmer of the truth — that Chief Samuel Bouché was once again going to arrest her son, her mind might permanently snap.
Summer wasn’t so sure she might not have a breakdown herself.
Chapter Three
Summer worried about Mama all night.
If Jace showed up out of the blue, she’d likely flip out. But if he didn’t come back, and she got her hopes up for nothing, that could also destroy her. With her stomach in knots, Summer decided to tell Mama the truth.
When she came downstairs, she appeared normal–as normal as she could be anyway. Her hair was done in a French twist and she wore a flowery dress and sandals. “Mornin’, darlin’.”
“Good morning, Mama.” Summer poured them each a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair. Her nerves played cat and mouse. “Please sit down. I need to talk to you.”
Her blue eyes clouded. “No more talk of that … family.”
“This is about our family.” Summer waited until her mother was seated. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself. “I have some bad news.” Mama’s eyes began to cloud and Summer blurted out the rest. “Jace escaped from prison yesterday.”
For a moment, Mama didn’t react. Then her eyes brightened. “My boy is out of that horrible place?”
Summer reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Yes, but not legally. Apparently, he was on a bus transporting prisoners and it overturned. Two men escaped, Jace is one of them.”
Mama gave a small cry and twisted her fingers together until they turned white. “Oh, my Lord. What’s going to happen to him?”
Summer circled the table and folded her mother in her arms. Her body shook with uncontrollable tremors. “I don’t know, Mama. The police think he’s going to come home.”
“I hope he does,” she sobbed. “I’d give anything to see him.”
“Mama, that isn’t likely to happen.” Summer patted Mama’s back until she calmed. After a few minutes her tears dried, but her body still shook. Summer reluctantly released her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” She wiped her face with a corner of her apron. She looked around. “Oh, heavens. I have so much to do. Cleaning, cooking. Yes, cooking. I’ll make stuffed pork chops, my boy’s favorite. Oh, and an apple-cinnamon cake with vanilla ice cream. He loves that.”
Summer’s heart lurched. She chose her words carefully. “Jace can’t stay here. You understand, right?”
Mama’s lips tightened, making her scar stand out in stark relief against her pale face. “He can if no one knows.”
Summer stood up. She’d have to make Mama understand later. “I have to go to work. I’ll call you as soon as I have a break. Love you.”
“Love you, sugar.” Mama got up and began rummaging through a drawer. “Where’d I leave my recipe for orange-cranberry glaze?” Her mind was on her meal preparations and Summer let it go. If she pressed the issue, Mama might have another fit. Better to leave her halfway happy in her own world.
Summer got ready to leave, still troubled. If Jace came back, he would probably wait for dark. She’d be home by then. A regular client had an appointment at ten and Summer couldn’t just not show up. During high school, she had taken enough courses at the vocational school to certify as a hairdresser. Luckily, she’d found a job at a salon. Doing hair wasn’t her dream job, but at least she could keep her mother at home.
Living in Juliet was hard, but nowhere else would be any easier.
• • •
Summer’s old car sputtered to a stop in front of the Curl Up and Dye. As she turned it off, the beast backfired loud enough to send the robins in a nearby tree off in flight. One of these days, the Escort was just going to croak on the spot, forcing Summer to walk or peddle her old bike to work. She couldn’t afford a new vehicle right now. As she gathered her bag from the backseat, a shadow fell across her window. She looked up, startled. Galen Franks stood there smirking at her with his gap-tooth grin.
“Mornin’, Miss Summer.” He leaned over and she tried not to gag at his awful odor.
“Hello, Galen.”
Already running late, she didn’t have time to chat today. He waited for her outside the shop nearly every morning, and she usually took a minute or two to visit with him. Weighing well over three hundred pounds, he rarely wore a shirt and the sides of his grease stained overalls gaped open. They had gone to school together and she always tried to be kind to him. Others often weren’t. They made fun of him because he weighed a lot and he wasn’t overly bright.
He moved in front of her, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “I can fix it.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll take it over to the mechanic later.” She slowed, not completely halting. She didn’t want to be beholden to him, and besides she couldn’t pay him anything right now.
“Your car is going to die.” His little pig eyes and down turned lips looked as solemn as if he were headed to a funeral. “You will be stranded. That’s dangerous.”
She hesitated for a moment; hand on the doorknob. Rick over at the local garage was reasonable and did a good job, but he was out of her budget. Galen fixed cars, but most people didn’t trust him because he was a little slow-minded. “Could you do it today? Repair this old thing in one day, I mean?”
He nodded, pumping his head like a piston. “Yeah. I can do it.”
“Well, all right then.” She opened the door. “Thank you, Galen.”
His head continued to bob. “I can do it.”
“I’m sure you can.” Praying she was right, she hustled inside.
As she dashed through the salon’s door, Glory Lavery looked up from her station with a frown. “You’re late.”
“I know, I know.” Summer hung her purse on the coat stand behind the door. “Sorry.”
“Lucky for you, Mrs. Simpson cancelled.” Glory took a bobby pin out of her mouth and placed it in the thinning hair of Viola Krebbs. “Said she’s not feeling well.”
“Oh my. I’ll have to call her,” Viola said. “Did Evelyn say what was wrong?”
“No, ma’am.” Glory shook her head slightly and her short, spiked hair danced like a cockscomb. The color and style was similar to a male bird’s, but her short, plump body reminded Summer more of a little red hen.
Summer owed Glory a great deal. She moved to Juliet after Mama’s rape and Jace’s trial and if she heard about the whole nasty scandal, she didn’t pry. When Summer couldn’t find a job, Glory gave her one.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Simpson isn’t feeling well. I could sure use the money, but it doesn’t hurt my feelings to have a few minutes to catch my breath. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Summer checked her supplies. Everything looked good to go.