The Long Hot Summer

by Rosnau, Wendy

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Nicole frowned. “How can you answer a question you haven’t heard yet?”

  “Because I know what you’re going to ask. Johnny saw through my hoax tonight and he told you, didn’t he? I expected he would.”

  Confused, Nicole asked, “Why did you do it? Why did you pretend you were sick?”

  “I’ve sensed for two days that you haven’t been happy with my decision to bring Johnny here. I thought once you got to know him, you’d feel differently. He really is a good boy, Nicki. But it takes time to warm up to him. I was giving you that time.”

  “It’s not going to happen, Gran. I believe he’s a chameleon.”

  “Aren’t we all. It depends on the time and place and who’s standing next to us, but I believe we all are changing constantly. That boy has seen a lot, Nicki. I’m surprised he’s still in one piece.”

  “He’s not a boy,” Nicole reminded. “He’s a man. A man you haven’t seen for fifteen years.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not wrong about him, Nicki. You’ll see I’m right, once you’ve decided to give him a chance.”

  Nicole threw up her hands. “You sound just like him. ‘Give me a chance,”’ she drawled in a bad imitation of Johnny’s dark voice. “Well, I don’t trust him. Or any other man, for that matter.”

  “And why is that, dear?” Mae reached out and brushed Nicole’s bangs out of her eyes. “What has happened to make you so bitter?”

  Nicole didn’t want to discuss her reasons, but now that she’d said too much, how could she avoid it? She stood and moved to the window overlooking the backyard and a row of giant oak trees. “You were right, there was a man in L.A. His name was Chad Taylor. I fell in love, and he… He walked out on me.” She turned around. “I know I’m bitter, but it hurt.”

  Mae said nothing, as if she sensed there was something else. Nicole groaned, then relented. “You need to know something else. When I called the Pass-By Motel yesterday, it wasn’t to find out when Johnny was arriving—it was to fire him.” Before her grandmother could say anything, Nicole rushed on. “I didn’t know he was a friend of yours. I thought he was some ex-con on parole, is all. A stranger the people in town referred to as ‘bad-boy’ Bernard. You can understand how that would color my opinion, can’t you? Anyway, I apologized for that, and though I’m still not convinced he should be here, I’m prepared to go along with whatever you want. Only, I won’t be swayed into liking him. And no more surprise suppers or fake dizzy spells. Agreed?”

  A slow grin creased Mae’s soft cheeks. “You tried to fire him? And how did he take that?”

  “Actually, he told me he was nonrefundable.”

  Mae clutched her frail chest and laughed heartily. “That’s what I would have expected.”

  “It’s getting late.” Nicole moved back to the bed and kissed her grandmother on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning. And remember, no more tricks.”

  Johnny steered clear of the house on Sunday. He woke early and escaped into the bayou with his cane pole and the quart of White Horse he’d won the night before playing poker with Bick. Letting the boat take him wherever it wanted to go, he dozed until noon, then went hunting for the best fishing spot for the afternoon.

  He hadn’t eaten anything all day, so, when he started on the whiskey around supper time, it was no surprise that it hit him harder than it normally would have. But he didn’t care. If the whiskey took his mind off Nicole, it would be worth it. Then maybe tonight he could get some sleep.

  When the sun had set, and the day was almost gone, instead of heading back to the boathouse—not tired enough, or drunk enough—he thrust the pole into the black water and sent the boat deeper into the bayou. A slice of moon was all that guided him as he turned the boat into another narrow channel and slipped through a maze of live oak and tall cypress trees shrouded in thick moss. The bugs were bad, but Johnny paid them no mind as he pulled a cigarette from his T-shirt pocket.

  A clap of thunder sounded, promising a rainstorm before morning. Undaunted, Johnny shoved the pole into the water and headed north. He saw the light a moment later. At first he thought he’d gotten turned around, only he knew he hadn’t; the house on the hill was definitely the old farmhouse, and the light was coming from inside.

  “What the hell?” Johnny flipped the butt of his cigarette into the water, dropped the pole into the muck and turned the boat into the marshy shoreline. He climbed out of the boat, still keeping his eyes on the house through a veil of leafy oak limbs. There was no electricity at the house. Was someone inside with a flashlight? If so, why?

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching and waiting. A full minute, maybe two. He crept up the bank, but as he reached the rise, the light went out. He dropped to his knees and flattened out in the grass. It was so damn dark out, he couldn’t see three feet in front of his face. Still as the night, he waited, listening.

  Minutes ticked by slowly. Out of frustration, Johnny swore, wondering if he should rush the house and see who was inside. Another minute passed before he heard a car roar to life. He jerked to his feet, and in an instant he was running flat out. He saw headlights come alive at the end of the driveway, and he steered himself in that direction. The car was backing up onto Bayou Road, turning around. He was too far away to stop it, but too determined to give up. Cutting across the uneven yard and into an overgrown field, pumping his arms and legs, he sprinted through the field as fast as he could in hopes of cutting off the car before it reached the sharp bend on the county road.

  At the edge of the field, he jumped the ditch. He could hear the car as it downshifted to make the bend. Relieved that he had made it in time, Johnny stepped onto the dirt road, just as the car came around the corner. The headlights zeroed in on him. Any second, Johnny expected to hear the driver downshift and swerve to the side of the road. Only the car didn’t slow down. To his surprise, the driver gunned the engine, floored it, and sent the car into fourth gear.

  “Damn!” Johnny scrambled to get out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. The car clipped him high on his right leg and pitched him into the air, tossing him into the water-logged ditch.

  Then everything went black.

  Chapter 5

  The thunderstorm Sunday evening had been reduced to a misting rain by Monday morning. Nicole dashed off the porch and raced to the pickup the moment she saw it pull into the front yard. The passenger door swung open just as she reached it, and she jumped in quickly, slamming the door behind her. “Thanks, I— Oh, my God!”

  Nicole didn’t need to ask what had happened. It was all too obvious what had happened to Gran’s good boy—he’d been in a fight. “‘Just give me a chance,”’ she mimicked. “‘I don’t plan on causing any trouble,”’ she singsonged. “I can’t believe Gran can be so naive where you’re concerned.”

  He let her rant and rave for a minute, then put Henry’s old pickup in gear and headed down the road. While Nicole fumed, she chanced another look at the bruises that marred Johnny’s face. There was a cut on his chin, and a purple welt on his right cheekbone. The long gash on his arm looked nasty. The doctor who had sutured the cut had done a good job: the stitches were small and even. Once it healed, the scar left behind would be no more than a thin white line.

  As bad as his wounds looked, Nicole noticed his hair had been freshly washed and tied back. He wore a clean black T-shirt with the sleeves ripped out and another pair of beat-up jeans. He looked impossibly tough and unbelievably composed. Handsome, too, though she wasn’t willing to explore that any further than for observation’s sake.

  She wanted to ask him who the fight had been with, but she kept her curiosity to herself. Remembering what Gran had said about Farrel Craig, she wondered if Johnny had paid the man a visit. If so, she hoped Farrel Craig looked worse than Johnny. She shouldn’t care one single bit about who had come out on top, but for some unexplained reason she did. Which was just plain crazy.

  “You ask the ol
d lady about the dizzy spell she faked?”

  Nicole knew sooner or later he would get to that. She said with as little emotion as possible, “You were right. She invented it.”

  “She say why she did it?”

  Nicole glanced at him. “She thought if we shared some time, I would change my mind about what a ‘good boy’ you are.”

  The mockery in her voice made him glance her way. “But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

  Nicole pointedly eyed his bruises. “I don’t think so.”

  The lazy grin he offered her said he had expected as much.

  “If Gran wants to offer you her blind loyalty, that’s her business. But don’t expect that from me. Gran and I are not made the same way.”

  He gave her curves the same pointed assessment she had just given him, then directed his gaze back to the road. “No,” he agreed, “you certainly aren’t made the same.”

  The sexual implication behind his words had Nicole feeling self-conscious again. She looked out the window, glad she had picked jeans and a lightweight denim shirt to wear to town instead of cutoffs.

  “I need to stop by Tuck’s office for a few minutes. You mind if I do that first?” he asked.

  “Tuck? Who’s Tuck?”

  “Sheriff Tucker,” he explained.

  Nicole shot him a surprised look. “You’re going to see the sheriff? Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to get caught. I mean, it’s bad enough that you were fighting, but if there’s a witness who can point a finger, you can kiss your parole goodbye.”

  “Yeah, that would pretty much screw me.”

  He appeared perfectly calm. Nicole wanted to scream at him. “Does the sheriff know what happened? Did he order you to come by this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Then why, for God’s sake, are you going to see him? If he doesn’t know about the fight, he will the minute he sees you. How are you going to explain the bruises? Have you thought about that?”

  He rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “I’ll have to tell him the truth, I guess.”

  “The truth!” Nicole’s blue eyes went wide. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. The sheriff feels the same as the rest of the town does about you.”

  Just as they reached the city limits, a flash of lightning cut through the dismal, gray sky, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. Without warning, Johnny pulled the pickup off the road and parked across from Gilmore’s Gas and Go.

  “What are you doing?” Nicole asked.

  He turned slowly and slid his arm along the back of the seat to give her his undivided attention. “Just what do you think I should tell Tuck, cherie?”

  Nicole scooted closer to the door to avoid his thigh coming in contact with hers. He was staring at her boldly, taking in every detail of her face. She didn’t like it when he did that. She wet her lips, thinking. “I don’t exactly have a story in mind. Maybe you should just avoid him for a few days. Or maybe tell him you had an accident. You know, walked into a door or something.”

  “An accident?”

  Nicole narrowed her eyes, completely frustrated. “Well, say whatever you want. Say you were in the bayou biting the heads off poisonous snakes and wrestling alligators for no other reason than to count their teeth. Do you think I care what you tell him?” Unable to hold his hard gaze a moment longer, she looked away. Softer, more in control, she added, “I just don’t think the truth in this case is going to do either one of us any good. Gran’s already making another repair list for you. What about her? If you’re sent back to prison, she’ll be devastated.”

  When the silence grew, Nicole looked back and found him staring at her so intently that it made her shiver. “I thought that’s what you wanted,” he drawled. “For me to pack my bags and disappear.”

  He was backing her into a corner and trying to get her to say something she had no intention of admitting. “Stop fishing for me to say it,” she demanded. “The only reason I care one way or the other is because of Gran and because Oakhaven needs a carpenter.”

  “There are other carpenters.”

  “Well, tell that to Gran. She wants you, and I promised her I wouldn’t interfere.” Nicole didn’t want to belabor the point. Besides, they were getting away from the real issue. “It hardly seems worth it,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Was one night of raising hell worth another six months in prison? Does your freedom mean so little, then? Does Gran mean so little?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you so sure that I’m guilty?”

  “Are you going to blame this fight on someone else, too?”

  “No.”

  “Look, it doesn’t really matter what I think. Sheriff Tucker is the man you’re going to have to convince, or avoid.” Nicole shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant. “The rumor in town is that you’re a long shot, anyway.”

  “You really don’t want to know the truth, do you?” He shook his head and sighed. “Siding with the popular vote is understandable, but it’s dangerous and gutless, cherie.”

  “I’m not gutless,” Nicole exploded. “I just don’t take chances on bad investments. Like it or not, that’s what you are.”

  Without warning, he shifted into the middle of the bench seat and slid his arm along the back. He was giving her that look again, only this time it made her feel as though he were burning the clothes off her body, a thread at a time. Nicole tried to look past his battered handsome face, to ignore the heat being generated between their bodies. So much heat that the windows had completely fogged up, and the air inside the cab had turned warm and moist. Finally, he said, “What would you say if I told you I did have an accident? That there was this car and—”

  “I’d remind you that it’s not me you have to convince,” she cut in. “Save the story for the sheriff.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then returned to the wheel. He put the pickup in gear, but before he pulled back on the road, he said, “Okay. Have it your way, cherie. I’m guilty as hell.”

  Johnny stepped inside the police station and tried not to think about the iron cell down the hall. He’d taken Nicole to the drugstore, then dropped her off at the bakery. She told him she was going to be at least a half hour due to the fact that Clair’s daughter-in-law, Dory, worked there, and she liked to talk. That had suited him fine—the police station was just around the corner, and he didn’t need more than thirty minutes of Tuck’s time.

  Johnny heard the noisy air-conditioning unit knocking in the window, and realized it had weathered the last fifteen years, as had the creaking wood floors and the dingy gray walls. It seemed nothing had changed in Common.

  Well, almost nothing. For years Millie Tisdale had been Tuck’s secretary. Now the woman behind the scarred oak desk was Daisi Lavel. She had been a few years younger than him in school, but he still remembered her as the redhead who liked to flirt with him when no one was looking.

  She didn’t acknowledge him, even though Johnny was sure she had heard the door open. Preoccupied with applying nail polish to nails that were too long to be much good for typing with any speed or accuracy, she had her lips pursed and her eyes glued on her task.

  Johnny moved closer to the desk. “Steady as she goes, Daisi.”

  A glop of polish landed on her cuticle, and her head flew up, ready to chastise the person responsible. Her intention died the instant she recognized who was standing in front of her desk. “Johnny Bernard. My God, you look… You look like your daddy.”

  “That’s what I hear.” Johnny grinned. “How are you, Daisi?”

  “I’m fine, but I see black and blue are still your two favorite colors. After all this time I would have thought you’d have smartened up.”

  “Slow learner, I guess.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s it. School came easy, as I recall. And physically—” Her eyes drifted over his body with female appreciation. “You look like you could really do a number on somebody if you wanted to,
so what’s the problem?”

  Johnny chuckled. “I don’t have any problem, Miss Lavel.”

  “It’s Daisi Buillard now.” She leaned back and rubbed her swollen belly. “I married Melvin. You remember him, don’t you? The cute one in the family. We’re havin’ our second in three months. Got a little girl, named Sally. She’ll be two this fall. You got any kids?”

  “No.”

  “You sure? A handsome devil like you?”

  “No, I don’t have any kids.” He gestured to the growing puddle on her nail. “Sorry about that.”

  Daisi reached for a tissue and wiped the glob off her nail. “No biggie.”

  “I came to see Tuck.” Johnny glanced down the hall. “Is he in?”

  “Oh, he’s in, all right. But he ain’t smilin’. Hasn’t been since he found out you were comin’ back here for the summer. He still hates your guts, you know. But then, I’d hate you, too, if you busted all the windows in my house and stole my dog.”

  “I suppose I did get a little carried away the night before I left town.”

  “A little?” Daisi rolled her big brown eyes. “I’d say sprayin’ red paint on half the businesses on Main Street and settin’ fire to that dead oak in the center of town was more than just a little carried away.”

  Humbled by the magnitude of what he’d done, Johnny had the decency to flush. “You wanna tell him I’m here?”

  One of Daisi’s fingers pointed to a metal box tented with old mail. “The intercom broke a couple months ago.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Why don’t you just go on back and surprise him. It’ll serve him right for chewin’ off one of my ears already this mornin’ for not makin’ his coffee strong enough.”

  The phone rang. “Dang.” Daisi waved Johnny down the hall. “Good luck. And if I hear any gunshots, I’ll remember to duck.”

  Johnny ambled down the hall. When he came to Sheriff Tucker’s office he stopped, his hand poised on the doorknob. He’d gone over what had happened on Bayou Road a dozen times since last night. He figured it had been Farrel behind the wheel. He hadn’t seen him, and he couldn’t make out the car, but his gut told him it had to be his old enemy, Farrel.