The Long Hot Summer

by Rosnau, Wendy

  He saw her pull her tiny fist back. It registered what she aimed to do with it seconds before she swung at his head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve…Bernard!”

  Johnny ducked just in time, coming fully awake in an instant. “What did I do? I couldn’t have done it today because it’s—” He squinted at the clock on the wall. “Hell, it’s not even six o’clock.”

  “I know what time it is,” she snapped.

  He guessed she did. She looked bright-eyed and awake, as if she’d been up awhile. She sure looked pretty in her tight little cutoff jeans and yellow T-shirt with pink lips tattooed all over the front of it. “So, what’s got you so riled, cherie?”

  “Four green tractors. That’s what!”

  Johnny rolled off the bed, dragging the sheet with him. His sore ribs protested the quick movement, and he groaned as he straightened. “So what’s up with the tractors? I told them to stay out of the front yard. They didn’t tear something up, did they?”

  “That’s the problem. You had no business telling them anything.”

  “Sure I did,” Johnny argued. “I got the okay from Mae a couple of days ago. That’s why I went into town last night to see Virgil. I knew he would be able to help us out with a name or two. This time of year most of the crews are busy with their own crops. I thought he might be able to call in a favor for us with his brother, Martin.”

  “You cleared it with Gran?”

  “Sure. What did you think, that I’d go ahead on my own?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it last night?”

  Clutching the sheet around his waist, Johnny ran his gaze down her curvy body. “We weren’t exactly talking business last night—not doing much talking at all, if you know what I mean.”

  The look she gave him could have boiled water. “I should have expected you to gloat at some point. Well, you had your fun, last night and now this morning rubbing my nose in it. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself because it’ll be the last time you will at my expense.”

  Johnny studied her face. Now that he was awake, he noticed she didn’t look as well rested as he’d first thought. It made sense; he’d lain awake for half the night himself. He turned contrite. “Sorry, cherie. I wasn’t gloating.”

  “Save it. It’s not worth talking about.” She turned and was out the door more quickly than she’d come.

  Johnny swore, dropped the sheet and reached for his jeans. In the heat of pulling them on and shooting the zipper north, he nearly castrated himself. “Son of a—!” Barefoot, rubbing his crotch, he took the stairs three at a time.

  Just as she was about to open the outside door, he caught up with her, shot his hand past her and flattened it against the door. In her ear, he whispered, “Don’t leave mad.”

  She whirled. “Okay, I won’t leave mad. I’ll just leave.”

  “You forgot something.”

  “I didn’t forget anything.”

  “Well, I did.”

  “What? Is there something else you’ve forgotten to mention about those green monsters in the fields?”

  “No.” He paused for just a moment, then drawled, “What I forgot was this.” He lowered his head and kissed her. He didn’t give her time to protest, and he didn’t allow himself to get carried away. Once he ended the kiss, he took a step back and ran the back of his hand along her cheek. “Good morning, cherie.” Then he turned and strolled back upstairs, leaving her speechless, the taste of him on her pretty parted lips.

  “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” Nicole demanded of her grandmother. They were on the front porch, Mae tending to her prize azalea in the corner. The sun was baking the grass in the front yard and baking Nicole, too. She would have preferred to be inside in front of the fan, but she was determined to get used to the blessed heat even if it killed her. Which it no doubt would.

  “I told you, Nicki, it just slipped my mind.”

  “Nothing slips your mind, Gran, unless you want it to,” Nicole insisted. “I thought something as important as becoming a sugar plantation again would be something you’d want to share with me.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Nicki. I should have discussed it with you first. I should have explained our financial situation, too. I’m not broke, by any means, but selling the fields, or making them turn a profit, would certainly help us down the road.”

  Nicole slipped into the wicker chair next to her grandmother. “I told you I’d help. You know I’ve got money from Dad’s half of the law practice. And when I sold Mom and Dad’s house—”

  “Nonsense, Nicki. You’ll do no such thing. That money is for you and your own family. For your children’s future.”

  “I don’t plan on having any children,” Nicole blurted out, then wished she hadn’t spoke so quickly. Gran was completely taken aback.

  “No children! But children are wonderful little creatures, Nicki. They’re the future. This doesn’t sound anything like you. What’s happened to change your mind about a family? About babies?”

  “Nothing, Gran. You’re right, children are the future. And someday maybe I’ll want to settle down. I just don’t think I would be a good mother right now. Not with such a demanding career.”

  Gran looked slightly mollified. Nicole felt guilty. In truth, she would never allow herself to go through another pregnancy. She was too afraid.

  “You and Johnny didn’t say two words to each other over breakfast. Has he done something to upset you? You two aren’t fighting again, are you?”

  “He should have told me about the fields,” Nicole countered, “as you should have.”

  “I’m sorry, Nicki. I made the decision by myself, and that was wrong of me.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It was your decision to make. Only…” Nicole sighed. “I guess I just didn’t want to be the last to know.”

  “You’re right, of course. When Johnny brought it up, well, I was just so excited, I told him to see Virgil about it right away. Virgil’s brother has a plantation east of here, a very successful plantation. I knew if anyone could help us out and quickly, it would be Martin Diehl.” Mae looked satisfied. “I’m so glad Johnny’s come home. This is working perfectly. Better than I’d planned.”

  “Planned?” Nicole stiffened. “What do you mean ‘planned’?”

  “I know that look. I said I wouldn’t do anything sneaky again, and I won’t.” Mae went back to grooming the azalea. “When I said ‘planned,’ I was talking about the fields. I think this is going to be the answer to everything. I’m just surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”

  Nicole pulled into Pepper’s parking lot and climbed quickly out of her car. Already late to meet Daisi, she hurried inside wearing jeans and a funky scoop-neck ribbed tank in slate blue with two dozen tiny buttons down the front. The bar was darker than she remembered. Except for that one night weeks ago, she’d only been inside Pepper’s over the noon hour, when the sun’s rays shot through the transom over the double front doors. Gran loved the Wednesday lunch special—sausage gumbo and a slice of Bosco pie made with extra pecans and Pepper’s best whiskey. Clair had tried to duplicate the legendary pie, but she still hadn’t discovered the secret. Pepper swore he’d disclose it the minute she promised to leave Bick and marry him.

  She stood in the doorway until her eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting. When she spied Daisi at the half-circle bar, talking to her brother, Woody, Nicole started toward them.

  The talk in town was that Woody had a terrible crush on her. He looked up, and when their eyes met, Nicole smiled. She seated herself on a red leather barstool next to Daisi. “Hi,” she said, when Daisi spun around.

  “You made it. Great!” Daisi glanced at her brother. “See, I told you she’d come.” She looked at Nicole. “Didn’t I tell you he was cute?”

  “Oh, hell, Daisi,” Woody grumbled, blushing red. “Shut up.”

  Nicole let her gaze travel the length of Daisi’s brother. Yes, he was cute; he had a nice set of dimples, a
nd kind eyes the color of caramel pie. His attractive long blond curls had been bleached from working outdoors in the hot sun, and it accented his tanned cheeks. His body was a working man’s body, lean and muscular. The package was fine, more than fine. Still…

  She blinked away the vision of Johnny Bernard’s face. All day she’d felt depressed, as if she’d lost her best friend. Which was ridiculous—friends didn’t purposely keep things from one another. And that’s what Johnny had done by not including her in Gran’s decision to go back into business.

  “Nicki?”

  Nicole blinked, then said, “Sorry I’m late.”

  “That’s okay. Woody thought you weren’t goin’ to show. But I told him you were the type to keep your word.”

  “I lost track of time,” Nicole explained. “I started cleaning out the attic. I’ve decided to turn it into my painting studio.”

  “I’ll have to come see.” Daisi gestured toward her brother. “Woody will bring me sometime, okay?”

  “Sure,” Nicole said.

  Just then Toby Potter, the local loudmouth, walked by and gave Nicole a long, interested look, then a playful wink. “You better watch yourself tonight, gal. Farrel had all the fun last time, but tonight me and the boys won’t be sittin’ back watchin’.” He glanced at his competition. “I see old Woodrow here’s got the same thing in mind. There’s likely gonna be some scrappin’ goin’ on to see who wins the first dance.”

  Woody gave the truck driver with the shaggy red beard a nasty look. “Go cool off, Toby. Miss Nicki’s dance card is full up tonight.” He glanced back at Nicole to see if he’d overstepped his bounds.

  Nicole nodded, then smiled. At the moment she would have agreed to just about anything Woody suggested. Toby Potter looked as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks, and the toothpick he was chewing on was as black as the grease under his fingernails.

  “Well, Woodrow,” Toby was saying, “I’ll fight ya for that dance card. Your call—fists or something more meaningful?”

  Nicole’s eyes widened. Oh, God, she thought, Toby outweighed Woody by at least fifty pounds. And what did he mean by ‘something more meaningful’?

  “You boys can discuss this without us girls,” Daisi said, dismissing Toby as if he weren’t even there. “My back’s achin’, and I need a comfortable chair to sit in.” She reached out, grabbed Nicole’s arm and hauled her off the stool. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s find a table. Pepper, bring me somethin’ pretty. Somethin’ sweet—no liquor for me. Nicki, what do you want, wine?”

  “No! I mean, not tonight. I’ll have the same as you.”

  “Make that two pink lemonades, Pepper,” Daisi hollered.

  Pepper had a towel moving on the bar in time to the music playing on the jukebox and a fat black cigar poking from between his fleshy lips. He never looked up from polishing the bar, but he called back, “It’s comin’ up, darlin’.”

  “Hey, Pepper, I’m empty,” a man yelled from the other end of the bar. “Stop trying to spit shine that old thing and tend to your customers.”

  “Hold your horses, and say ‘whoa,”’ Pepper called back. “Ladies come first around here. I’ll bother with you soon as I get them settled.” He served Nicole and Daisi their drinks moments later. “Here ya go,” he said, setting down the drinks. “My specialty. I call it Sunrise on the Bayou.”

  It looked too pretty to drink, Nicole thought, the glass tall and narrow, a slice of lemon and a slice of orange stacked on a plastic stick topped off with a cherry.

  “You need anythin’ else, you just give Pepper a holler. I’ll be listenin’ for them sweet voices.”

  After Pepper stuffed himself back behind the bar, Daisi said, “Lucas Pelot’s band is playin’ later. You ever hear them?”

  “No,” Nicole admitted, pushing the fruit stick aside and taking a sip of her drink.

  “They’re really somethin’. Lucas can finger that accordion of his better than anyone I know,” Daisi boasted.

  They were seated at a table just on the outside edge of the dance floor—the floor Nicole recalled being whirled around just two weeks earlier in Farrel’s arms. She had been hoping Farrel wasn’t here tonight, but she glanced around and, to her disappointment, noticed him standing at the end of the bar with a drink in his hand. When their eyes met, he lifted his glass and smiled. Nicole didn’t reciprocate. She had no intention of furthering a friendship with a man who could be party to a gang beating such as the one he and his friends had given Johnny.

  He had called her twice, so Clair had said, leaving messages both times for her to call him back. But Nicole had ignored the requests.

  “So, how are things?” Daisi asked. “I haven’t seen you in days.”

  Daisi’s question forced Nicole to focus her attention back on her new friend. “Like I said, I’ve been working in the attic, and I’ve been sketching, too. There’s a gallery owner in New Orleans who is interested in my work.”

  “I bet the sketches are wonderful.”

  Nicole hadn’t told Daisi anything about the past year in L.A. She hadn’t told anyone, actually. She’d wanted to, and she really felt that Daisi would be the one to understand. Only, with Daisi being pregnant, Nicole thought it would be too awkward, the part about the baby. And Daisi just might start worrying about her own pregnancy. Nicole didn’t want that. The truth was, having babies was as natural as breathing. Just because it hadn’t been for her didn’t mean Daisi wouldn’t enjoy the wonders of motherhood.

  “How are you feeling?” she forced herself to ask. “Is the baby moving? She’s fine, isn’t she?”

  “She? I didn’t say it was a she.” Daisi laughed. “I told the doctor I didn’t want to know.” She sobered, glanced at her blooming stomach. “Is it the way I’m carryin’ it? Have you heard somethin’ I should know?”

  “No.” Nicole felt a little foolish. “I’m sorry, it was just a slip. I think of all babies as girls.”

  Daisi relaxed. “Don’t let Mel hear you say that, ’cause he wants a boy.”

  Woody suddenly appeared. “Lucas just finished warm-in’ up.” He set his bottle of beer on the table. “You still willin’ to dance with me, Nicole?”

  The band started things off with a traditional Cajun song called “Jolie Blonde.” At Daisi’s encouragement, Nicole took Woody’s hand and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

  A night of dancing was just what she needed, Nicole decided as she settled herself in Woody’s capable arms. Only, this time she was going to stay away from the wine—and Farrel Craig.

  From his booth on the far side of the bar, Johnny watched Woody Lavel tripping over his grin as he swept Nicole onto the dance floor for the sixth time. He wished to hell he hadn’t seen her come in. And he wished to hell that after he had, he’d left Virgil to his own demise and gotten out of here. But he hadn’t. And now it was too late; he wasn’t going anywhere. Not with the way Woody was feeling more confident with every song. And with Farrel, leaning on the end of the bar and eyeing Nicole the way he was.

  “She sure is perdy.” Virgil glanced at the dance floor. “Why don’tcha ask her to dance? Yo’ want ta. I can see de way ya look at her, boy.”

  “I don’t dance,” Johnny drawled. But he did want to hold her close, only not here. Not in a crowded room full of people. He wanted to go somewhere private with her, somewhere he could have her all to himself.

  “Well, maybe it’s time ta learn,” Virgil was saying. “Woodrow’s gettin’ de cream tonight. Yo’ okay with dat?”

  Johnny glanced at his friend. “Shut up, old man.”

  “Doan take my head off ’cause yo’ doan know how ta dance. No point. ’Tain’t my fault.”

  Woody’s hand captured her small waist and drew her closer. Johnny’s chest constricted, as he remembered how it felt being that close to her, touching her, loving her.

  “Doan tink she’d mind, do yo’? Thought Mae said yo’ two were—”

  “Shut up, Virg.”

  Lucas Pelot’s band hit
the last chord on a hip-swinging tune and immediately went into an up-close, touchy-feely ballad. Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny saw Farrel slide off his stool. Virgil saw it, too.

  “Now doan go feedin’ trouble with stupidity,” Virgil warned. “Tuck’ll toss yo’ in de slammer if’n yo’ get crazy.”

  Johnny watched warily as Farrel shouldered his way through the crowd and tapped Woody on the back. The younger man turned to see who was intruding on his party, and when he realized who it was, his face fell. He wanted to argue with Farrel, but in the end he backed off, and Farrel slipped in to take his place.

  Johnny could see Nicole’s body tense from across the room. And he would have come to her rescue if he hadn’t known her as well as he did. She looked fragile, vulnerable as hell, but she was made tougher than anyone knew. If she didn’t want to dance with Farrel, she’d say so.

  He got to his feet. “I’m going home, Virg. Thanks again for getting Martin to turn the fields over.”

  “Does dat mean yo’ll be stayin’ ta run things for Mae? Folks tink dat’s jus what it means. Down at Red’s dere takin’ bets yo’ be movin’ back ta de farm soon.”

  “Don’t waste your money on that bet, Virg.” Johnny started for the door. He was almost there when he heard her above the music and the laughing crowd. “I said I don’t want to dance with you. Now let go.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw her struggling against Farrel’s hold. He wasn’t aware of it at the time, but suddenly he’d changed directions. A number of dancing couples saw him and scrambled back to their seats. The music stopped, a violin chord dying slowly.

  Johnny recognized Nicole’s fighting stance from that morning. Quickly he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him, just as she was about to drive her fist into Farrel’s surprised face. “Easy, cherie,” he drawled in her ear. “He’s been known to hit back. Even women.”