Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  About a mile from his cabin she realized she loved him.

  Loving Sam wasn’t wise. Perhaps it was no wiser than loving her former husband had been. Sam had never lied to her; she had known from the beginning what he wanted and what he didn’t. What she hadn’t known was how quickly she would grow to love him. She had believed she could control her feelings. She had even told Daffy as much. It was no longer a question of a short affair that might leave her emotionally bruised but still whole. She had done the unthinkable. She had kept nothing back; she had not waited to see if Sam might learn to love her, too.

  When he spoke again, the sound was a surprise. “Why don’t you go change? I’ve got to find a place for the crawfish.”

  Antoinette realized they were at the cabin. She smiled mechanically and stepped out onto the deck, going inside without a word. She pumped some water and washed up quickly, changing into khaki pants and a red knit shirt with the same lack of enthusiasm. She waited on the deck while Sam changed, and then got back into the skiff for the trip to Didi’s.

  “You’ve been very quiet. Did I talk too much?” Sam asked as he guided the skiff toward Bayou Midnight.

  “I loved it,” she said and meant it. “And I’ve loved the day.” And I’ve found I love you, she added silently. And that was the reason I was quiet.

  “Next time I’ll take you down to the marshes. We’ll get Martin’s airboat and take off at dawn.”

  She schooled herself not to respond with the surge of emotion his words invoked. Next time. “I’d like that,” she said simply. “I’d like that a lot. Just let me know in time so I can buy hip boots that fit.” She watched the waves billowing out behind them, not risking a glance at his face. If there was ambivalence there, she didn’t want to see it. She wanted only to savor the two words, “next time,” and believe in possibilities.

  Didi and Leonce’s house sat on an inlet of Bayou Midnight about half a mile from Claude’s. Antoinette could see the differences immediately. In design the house was very much like Sam’s uncle’s, but someone had painted this house white with a contrasting trim of light blue. Even from a distance Antoinette could see flowers hanging from the porch overhang and more flowers leading down a path to the water. To the side of the house was a large vegetable garden with a scarecrow whose raggedy arms were thrown open in a caricature of welcome.

  “Looks like Martin’s here, too,” Sam said as he pulled the skiff to a short dock and secured it.

  Now that they were closer, Antoinette could see Martin and Leonce standing together on the front porch. Martin was gesturing excitedly, and Leonce was standing far enough away to avoid being hit by his flailing arms. Words drifted down to the water, but the conversation was obviously in Cajun French, and once again Antoinette’s limited French vocabulary was no help. Sam, however, was frowning.

  “Would you like me to stay here?” she asked him. “Martin sounds angry, and I might be in the way.”

  “No, come on up. Martin’s excitable, that’s all. Leonce is the only person he ever lets go with. He’ll calm down as soon as he realizes we’re here.”

  Skeptical, Antoinette followed Sam, who was carrying the gunnysack of crawfish, up the path to the house. Sam had been right, however. As soon as the men caught sight of them, the conversation died.

  “I’ve got dinner here.” Sam set the sack down on the porch. “Where should I put them?”

  “Didi got the washtub ready for ’em out back,” Leonce told Sam, smiling a greeting to Antoinette at the same time. He kicked the bag with the toe of his worn boot. “Didya forget how to catch crawfish, Sam-son? Nuthin’ in here.”

  “Then I guess one of us’ll have to go hungry,” Sam said seriously, poking his cousin’s round belly. “Martin, you’re staying, too, aren’t you?”

  “Nah.” Martin turned on his heel and headed for the porch steps. He threw an unintelligible parting comment over his shoulder and headed for the water.

  “You git my apologies for Martin,” Leonce said to Antoinette. “He’s havin’ a bad time right now. He don’t mean to be rude.”

  “That’s all right,” Antoinette assured him. “I can tell he’s upset. I wasn’t taking it personally.”

  “Didi’s waitin’ inside for you. Didi,” he yelled, as if to make his point, “’Toinette’s here.”

  Antoinette smiled at the shortened version of her name and decided she liked it. The door flew open, and Didi dashed through it, coming to an instant halt in front of Antoinette. “Gladya here. Come see my house.”

  Antoinette followed her inside for a whirlwind tour. When it was finished, she was left with an impression of comfort, creativity and warmth. Leonce’s income and Didi’s ingenuity had obviously provided them with a standard of living any middle-class American would be happy with. Didi had decorated with good taste and a flair for color. In addition, the house showed her ability as a seamstress and homemaker. Leonce’s preferences were apparent in the huge color television set in the living room and the video recorder on top of it. A satellite dish in the backyard ensured that he could get the very best reception.

  “Now we got the pot heatin’ outside,” Didi said, rubbing her hands together as the two women headed for the kitchen. “I’m gonna let the men boil the crawfish. I put everything in the water for ’em. Even Sam-son couldn’t mess it up.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Sit and talk to me.” In her usual down-to-earth fashion, Didi got right to the point. “Sam-son says you work with people who got troubles.”

  Antoinette nodded. Didi was bustling around the bright, attractive kitchen, and she looked absolutely in her glory. It was a joy to watch her while, with blond curls bouncing, she did three jobs at once and managed to carry on a conversation, too.

  “Well, Martin, he’s got troubles. And I’m the only one in this family who sees it.”

  Antoinette knew she was being drawn into a family squabble, but she wasn’t sure how to avoid it without sounding rude. “You’re worried about Martin,” she said noncommittally.

  “More than that. I think his mind’s goin’. He don’t take care of himself, don’t eat good, don’t seem to sleep. He goes out on the water, and half the time he don’t come home. Claude don’t know where he is most of the time.”

  “He is a grown man,” Antoinette pointed out gently.

  “Sure he is, but he don’t do the things grown men do. He’s got no friends, no women, no nuthin’. Just his traps and his fishin’ and his boats. He don’t talk to no one but Leonce, and then he yells. You heared him yellin’ when you come up, didn’tya?”

  “I did, Didi, but I couldn’t understand what it was about.”

  “That’s anuther thing. He don’t speak English anymore hardly. Used to when he had to. Never liked it, but he was in the army. He had to speak English then. All of us, we speak French sometimes. But Martin, he acts like he’s got a secret to keep. Don’t want anyone who don’t speak French to know it.”

  “Is it the thing about Omega Oil closing down the marshes that’s making him so angry?”

  Didi was shucking corn and washing potatoes now, and she looked up from the sink to shake her head. “Not just that. Things’re changin’. He don’t want no changes. Nuthin’ ever stays the same, though, does it? He don’t know that, might never know it. Leonce says Martin come back from Vietnam wantin’ the bayou to be just the same, like it oughta stay frozen while his world went crazy over there. Leonce says Vietnam did this to Martin. But Vietnam was a long time ago, heh?”

  “Have you talked about this to Sam?”

  “Sam-son won’t listen.” Didi momentarily stopped, turning to face Antoinette. The cessation of motion was all Antoinette needed to understand how serious Didi thought this was. “Sam-son, he’s got a blind spot about his family. He thinks the sun and moon were invented on Bayou Midnight. No one here can do wrong. He don’t see what’s happening. He loves Martin, and when Sam-son loves somebody, he loves them all the way. He’d kill for Martin
or Leonce or Claude without thinkin’ twice, and I guess he’d kill for me, too. But he won’t listen.” The string of French phrases that followed would have sounded more appropriate from Martin, but Antoinette knew they said everything about Didi’s frustration level.

  “What are you afraid might happen?” Antoinette asked, wondering if Didi thought Martin might get violent.

  “I don’t know. I guess I think Martin’s gonna go off in the swamp one day and forgit to come back.”

  Antoinette shuddered at the thought.

  “I need the stuff to put in with them crawfish,” Leonce said, wiping his feet on a mat at the back door and swinging the screen door open.

  Didi silently handed him the basket she had just filled with corn and potatoes, and a previously prepared basin overflowing with bulbs of garlic, onions and big chunks of sausage.

  “At least there’ll be something to eat,” Leonce teased good-naturedly. “The crawfish them two caught wouldn’t fill one belly.”

  “Especially your belly,” Didi retorted, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Didn’t see you out crawfishin’ today, Leonce.”

  “Martin went. Got about two hundred pounds, but the man he sells to said the price dropped. Martin opened the sacks and dumped them on his feet.” Leonce tried to laugh, but the sound showed his discomfort with what his brother had done.

  Didi caught Antoinette’s eye and shook her head. “That don’t make no sense. Nuthin’ he does makes good sense anymore.”

  “Don’t go fillin’ ’Toinette’s head with junk about Martin. He’s a good man, different from most, but good. And he’s my brother,” Leonce said with an edge to his words that Antoinette couldn’t miss.

  “Crawfish are boilin’,” Didi reminded him, no apology in her voice.

  They ate outside near the water’s edge on a picnic table covered with newspaper. The crawfish more than lived up to Antoinette’s expectations, and even though Leonce continued to tease Sam about how few there were, there were still pounds left over when they had all eaten their fill.

  The crawfish shells were thrown into the water, and a giant bass came to the surface to snap one between his powerful jaws. “That one, I hope he likes red pepper,” Didi said with her tinkling giggle.

  The conversation was pleasant. Didi seemed satisfied to have talked over her concerns with Antoinette, even though Antoinette had offered little in the way of guidance. Only once during the meal did she try to broach the subject of Martin to Sam, and when his reaction was similar to Leonce’s, she just shrugged, agreeably changing the subject. Antoinette could see that, as worried as Didi was about Martin, she had realized there was little more that she could do than worry.

  When it was time to go, the two women hugged goodbye, exchanging phone numbers and promises to keep in touch. Antoinette was still smiling when they took the skiff back to Claude’s and traded it for Sam’s canoe. The paddle back to his cabin was done in the glow of a subtle sunset and in silence. The sounds of a bayou evening serenaded them all the way home.

  Much later, Antoinette lay in Sam’s arms and listened to the deep bellow of a bull alligator somewhere outside the porch windows. She was satiated in every way and completely content except for the knowledge that tomorrow meant going back to the city and an uncertain relationship with the man beside her.

  “I feel like I’ve been here for years,” she said, unwilling to let Sam fall asleep while she lay awake listening to the night.

  “Anxious to get back?”

  “Not at all. Let’s both call in and say we contracted swamp fever. Then we can stay another week or two.”

  Sam smiled in the darkness, aware that she was only half teasing. “You could move down here and start a practice. Gator psychologist.”

  “I might even find a person or two who could use my services.” She had said the words lightly, but the image of Martin was between them both as soon as she had finished speaking.

  “I gather Didi talked to you.”

  Sam hadn’t moved away, but Antoinette felt him stiffen. “She did. She doesn’t feel like she has any place to turn, and I was a handy listening ear.”

  “She thinks Martin’s crazy.”

  “She’s worried about him, Sam. And I think she has reason to be.”

  “You don’t know Martin. Just because he’s not like everyone else, you think he should change. Not everyone needs what Didi and Leonce have. Martin doesn’t….”

  And you don’t. Antoinette silently finished the sentence for him. She hesitated to voice her fears, aware just how delicate this subject was, but in good conscience she couldn’t stay silent. “It’s not a question of everyone needing to conform. I appreciate the differences in people—that’s what makes the world such a wonderful place to live. But, Sam, Martin is more than just a nonconformist. He’s angry, his temper is difficult if not impossible to control.”

  “You can tell that after seeing the man exactly twice?”

  Sam’s sarcasm sliced right through her, but she continued in spite of it. “Of course I couldn’t. I’m using what Didi told me tonight. Obviously I can’t do anything for him. I’m not trying to recruit another client. I just think that someday in the future you might regret not listening to Didi.”

  “I brought you here to meet my family, not to criticize them or me.”

  Brick by brick the defenses were going back up. Antoinette was only surprised that for almost two days Sam had been open with her. She regretted the loss of it with all her heart.

  “If I hadn’t told you I was worried about Martin, what else would you have found to hold against me?” she asked, pulling herself out of his arms. The bed, which had been the perfect size, now seemed much too small.

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Antoinette.”

  “I’m not going to do anything,” she promised, “because it’s perfectly apparent to me that anything I do or say is going to be used against me.”

  “Then be quiet and go to sleep.”

  She tried, holding back the tears that the most vulnerable part of her wanted to cry. They were both very still, not touching at all. Antoinette listened to the crickets and the frogs for long minutes. She jerked upright suddenly when the bull alligator bellowed again.

  “Damn it!” Sam swore.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It startled me.”

  “I’m not swearing at you. Come here.”

  She felt his arms pull her down, and in a moment she was on top of him. The night was cloudy, and without the moon to illuminate the room, she could barely make out his features.

  “Are you a good enough psychologist to see that Martin and I aren’t much different?” he asked. “When you criticize him, you’re criticizing me, too. When it comes right down to it, I feel the same way about my life as Martin feels about his. We’re both happy. We don’t need anyone interfering.”

  It was time to stop beating around the bush. Antoinette knew exactly what he was talking about. It had been between them since the beginning of the conversation, since the beginning of their relationship.

  “Are you happy?” She lifted herself on her elbows and framed his face with her hands. “Did you invite me here to show me how little you need my interference in your life? Because if you did, I misunderstood. Give us a chance, Sam. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not asking for all your free time. Just don’t let a distorted fantasy of what a good cop is interfere with something very special.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that I might know what I need better than you do? You and Didi are sisters under the skin, aren’t you?”

  “Every time I’ve trusted your feelings, you’ve come back to me. If you were so sure, you wouldn’t have asked me to come this weekend. If you were so sure, you wouldn’t have talked about taking me down to the marshes next time you come here.” She put an end to the conversation by molding her mouth to his. His hands tangled roughly in her hair, and it was clear he was angry.

  Antoinette knew that anger could be a p
owerful aphrodisiac. The bodies that had been so well sated responded to their argument with a new level of need. Tongue met tongue, hands traveled roughly over opposing bodies, and when Sam finally thrust into her, she was more than ready.

  She fell asleep, half on top of him. It was a position she wouldn’t have allowed herself if she’d been awake enough to consider it. It was possessive, intimate and loving, all the things Sam didn’t want.

  He lay awake after her breathing had slowed and deepened, wondering why she felt so right lying there.

  Chapter 12

  Dawn hadn’t arrived when Antoinette heard Sam’s movements in the next room. It was raining, a soft, formless rain that met the mists and joined them in a seemingly impenetrable cloud of moisture. She swung her legs over the bed and stood, dreading the canoe trip back to Claude’s to get Sam’s car, dreading the day.

  Sam was standing at the sink shaving. She lingered in the doorway watching the wonderfully male ritual, but she denied herself the pleasure of walking across the room to wrap her arms around his waist for an early-morning hug. Their weekend was over. In a few short hours she would be back at work and so would he. She knew Sam well enough to know that there would be no sharing, no humor today. She knew him well enough to know that if she touched him, he wouldn’t respond the way she wanted. Instead, she murmured a good-morning greeting, although she was sure Sam already knew she was there, and went to her suitcase to get her hairbrush.

  Twenty minutes later they were in the canoe, covered with rain slickers that had seen better days. The cabin disappeared when they were no more than thirty feet from it, like Brigadoon melting back into the mists. The swamp was foreboding in the darkness without even the faintest light from the moon to show them the way. Sam guided by instinct until the glow of predawn, which was just discernible through the rain, began to light the sky.