by June Shaw
Parked on my carport, I recalled one of the tools I had noticed in Jake’s open box. Our dad had a ball peen hammer just like it, a tool that, as a child, I had thought was adorable and liked to hold. With its small rounded head and no claws, it was one of the hammers our carpenter father hadn’t used too often. Remembrance of him and Eve’s unhappiness made tears swell inside my throat.
I entered the storeroom at the back end of my carport, fingered my father’s worn tool belt, and tied it around my waist. I’d gotten to keep most of his tools after he passed on, but had found only claw hammers. I picked one out now. Grabbing the closest nails and a couple of short two-by-fours, I angled one piece across the other, leaned them against a plastic sawhorse, and slammed the hammer with my right hand. The hit felt good.
What should have made Eve content was having Dave around. He was the man she had been searching for all along, she believed, yet he had told me he didn’t have the same interest in her. Slam. The nail went deeper. No, I didn’t want him to fall in love with her. I only wanted her out of her current dark mood. Slam. Wham.
If she and Jake got together, a new romantic relationship sprouting in her life would pull her out of any doldrums. I made sharp taps with my hammer on smaller Brad nails while I tried to conceive a plan and almost missed hearing the ring of the phone in the pocket of my slacks.
“How is she?” I believed a man asked, although I was finishing a strike against a nail. “Sunny, this is Dave,” he said, and I pulled back my hammer before letting it hit again. “She was in such a sad state that I hated to leave her that way, but she insisted I go.” Concern gripped his tone.
She always wanted Dave around, the closer the better.
“She doesn’t want me there, either.” I set the hammer down. Instead of being exciting about Dave, I remained concerned about my sister. “I think it won’t be long before she can work off the misery she’s feeling from baby withdrawal and be ready for real life again.”
“I certainly hope so.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “What are you doing?”
I glanced at my silly woodwork. “Just playing around with a hammer to get some frustration out.”
He hesitated a long minute. “You could come and play around and get more frustration out at a place I need to repair.”
His words intensified my hearing and interests. Dave said repair, one of my favorite activities. He also invited me to his place. Did live chickens have heads? “I’d love to do that.”
“Wait,” he said, making my chest deflate and my five-foot-eight height shorten. Was he going to tell me not to come? “I know you aren’t supposed to work for clients yet so I won’t be a client, but I will want to pay for your assistance.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t take your money.” I surely needed more income, but not from him.
“Here’s what we’ll do. You come and look over the old fishing camp I bought and let me know how you think I can fix it up, okay?”
“Just tell me when and where.”
Chapter 2
The next morning I drove around the block to Eve’s house to check on her. The air was still as I rang the doorbell and waited. She didn’t come to the door, so I let myself in. “Eve, it’s me.” Shivers raced around my back while I entered, a carol trying to start in my throat. I knew I feared finding someone again trying to kill her. Singing Christmas carols when I was afraid began when I was a child alone with our older sister and someone shot her, and I didn’t know what else to do while I waited for help. That affliction competed with my dyslexia for which of them often made me feel more like a rabbit that ought to burrow in a hole, although my self-worth was gradually improving.
I didn’t see her immediately but checked the alarm box inside her foyer, my own body’s alarm relaxing a pinch when I found Home glowing in green and then saw her across the way. Dave’s company had installed this system.
Instead of being dressed in a stylish pantsuit or dress, Eve still wore a lavender silk robe over her matching nightgown that was partly visible beneath the robe’s hem. Through the open doorway beyond her den, she didn’t look toward me, not even when I stepped up beside her. She stuck her brush into a can and thrust wide black strokes across those already ruining her canvas and didn’t pay attention to the black splatters on her sleeve and tie of her robe.
“That isn’t a recent lover, I hope.”
“My disposition.” She slashed at her canvas with more furious strokes.
I watched her create no pattern, but getting her annoyance out. “Anything I can do?”
For the first time since I entered her house, she turned to me. “Leave.”
My sister shooting me such an irate word and stare stopped my breath. I released it, knowing her heartbreak came elsewhere. Let me know how I can help almost came from my mouth, but she would probably just shout, so I kept the offer inside and let myself out.
Driving away, I opened my windows and sucked in fresh air, feeling a need for some. Eve would feel better soon, I told myself, my own disposition lifting once I aimed my truck at Bayou Boogie Woogie.
South Louisiana was home to a great number of these slim waterways with irregular borders. Many bayous forked off the Mississippi and split again and dumped their waters that were normally brown but sometimes green into the Gulf of Mexico. The numerous manmade canals were much straighter. All of them made fishermen happy with countless fish of all kinds. I knew where Bayou Boogie Woogie was, although I had never driven so far down the road beside it.
My breaths quickened while I motored, regular houses becoming less apparent, and I knew I was approaching his camp. Dave was the first man I believed I might truly love, although I had married once. Poor self-esteem probably made me agree to that marriage. Now I felt a mutual attraction with Dave, although he never actually said so or acted on romantic feelings during the few times I’d been around him. With Eve experiencing such unhappiness now, I would wait until she perked up before I made her aware of my interest in him. It would be cruel to do otherwise.
My heartbeats thrummed faster during the drive. Rustic unpainted cypress buildings sat up on piling or squatted all along the waterway. A couple of ancient small camps leaned toward the bayou like they were trying to decide whether to or not to slide in and swim. With my truck windows open for the unique swampy smell, I enjoyed the gumbo of scents from algae-tinted water to that of fresh crabs, which made me hungry for some. Occasional shrimp boats moored with their trawl nets raised like butterfly wings emitted the odor of shrimp peelings left out in the sun, not all that pleasant, but combining with the others to create something I could smell nowhere else, and I wanted as much of that scent as I could get.
Fewer buildings sat along this road and fewer still the number of vehicles, mostly trucks, parked around them. These were fishing camps, unlike some of the finer ones in other areas down here, although their owners enjoyed these getaway places just as much. Tall wild lavender irises, white lilies, and purple hyacinths decorated the water’s edges. In the bayou, three small turtles sunbathed on a slim branch. A snake slid through low dry grass into the brown water. Not far past it, a snowy egret searched for food. Farther along, I was thrilled to spot a roseate spoonbill that resembled a flamingo soaring over the water. A large blue heron sat on a wharf and an adolescent boy stood on a different wharf with a fishing pole bending over. I eyed the pole, wanting to know what he would bring in, but then spotted Dave’s truck. Any interest I had in that fish vanished. I pulled behind Dave’s truck on his gravel driveway, swallowed, and got out.
An electric saw whined from about seventy yards beyond, where a man on his wharf sliced through wood. Out in the water behind these camps, an alligator slid along the bayou’s surface, its heavy tail propelling it in a steady rhythm.
“It isn’t a thing of beauty, but I don’t plan to live here.” Dave stood three feet beside me, his surprising nearness making me gasp. “Oh, it’s that bad?” His hot chocolate eyes were bright beneath
his slightly longish black hair.
“No, not at all.” I’d hardly glanced at this structure he’d bought and was speaking about him, not any walls, windows, or roof.
“Look through the place before you decide that.”
Right. Check it out instead of you. “I just saw an alligator.” I pointed, and he took steps closer to the bank. We watched it slide farther away from shore.
“I heard there are a lot of others around. We’ll try to stay out of their way and hope they stay out of ours, okay?” he said.
He smiled, and I laughed. I had lived down here long enough to have seen a few gators, although not nearly as many as folks from other places seemed to believe we encountered. Many people lived down here all their lives, and the only gators they saw resided in Audubon Zoo in New Orleans. Most of us southerners still felt a small thrill of excitement and a tingle of fear when we witnessed one. Most of us, except for gator hunters, respected them and would be afraid to encounter one up close.
“You like to fish enough to want a camp?” Lots of people owned camps, but the men’s love for fishing or hunting was normally passed down from fathers, uncles, and grandfathers. Since Dave had only lived in south Louisiana a year or so, his interest in outdoor sports surprised me.
He cupped his hand below my elbow to lead me back up the drive. I tried to ignore the distracting feelings that came from his touch. Dave guided me past the stacks of two-by-fours and plywood in the carport to a door.
“I’ve only been fishing a few times with a friend who had a boat. Since I wasn’t very good at it, I made the fish happy. I thought they wouldn’t mind if I went out around them again.” He stepped closer to me as we walked to the doorway and made me happy, too.
I stopped moving and stared at him. “You’ve only fished a couple of times, and now you want a camp? Do you own a boat?”
With a laugh, he shook his head. “Not even a fishing line yet, but I’m hoping to get both of those soon. First I want a place where I can spend the night and wake up before the sun does since I was told that’s when the fish bite best.”
“Usually, but not always.” I moved away from him so I could pay attention to the structure. After all, that’s why he wanted me here. We had entered a kitchen, an old-fashioned one with a sheet vinyl floor, white freestanding stove, small white refrigerator, and scratched stainless steel sink.
“It sounds like you know a bit about catching fish. Maybe you’ll go fishing with me and give me some tips.” He stood near, his smile reeling me in.
“I’m not the best, but I have caught my share.” Pulling my interest away from romance, I touched the laminate countertop. Its sparkles of gold brought out the antique finish that lent a suggestion of real marble. “This is nice. I don’t see any cracks or chips, but I don’t know what you plan to change.”
“Probably not a whole lot right now. This was someone’s camp, and that’s all I’ll use it for. I’ll just fix up a few things gradually.” He took steps away from me and waved his hand toward the floor and the walls.
“Maybe a fishing line will come first,” I said with a grin, looking forward to going out in a boat with him and teaching him how to cast. My mind then conjured images of him and me working together to make improvements in here. We could change that vinyl floor, add a wharf in back over the water, and see what else we could do with the rest of this place. The more I imagined us as a real couple, the more I felt drawn to him—a place I should not be yet with my sister so fragile. Our other sister had been murdered. Keeping this sister on solid footing remained most important right now.
I hoped more than ever that Eve would come out of that gloomy state soon. I didn’t have much experience with romance, but the vibes I received from Dave’s smiles, nearness, and suggestion made me more assured that he might also be interested in me.
We walked together down a small hall. Feeling his closeness even more, I barely glanced into the two bedrooms, bath, and utility room. In the wider living area, I stopped. “I know most camps aren’t fancy, and I don’t find any real problems here. But how about if I bring Eve over to check it out with us? She might come out of her doldrums or see something I’d miss.”
He agreed, and we walked out the door to the carport.
“So you think this place has potential?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
“Sometimes I’ll want to just come out here to relax and feel the breeze and enjoy the wildlife.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
“I could do some of the fixing up myself, but I work a lot of hours and could use a few suggestions and help with implementation.”
Ideas flowed through my head for things that might improve this place. But what he wanted to use it for and all-out sprucing clashed in my mind. “A lot of decisions will depend on how much you want to spend on this project.”
“That’s something I haven’t decided on yet.”
“I’ll bring Eve over to get her suggestions.”
He smiled the intense smile that made me decide I had better get away from him. Dave pulled keys from his pocket, unclasped a link on his key ring, and pulled one key off. “Take this. That way you can bring her in even if I need to be at work.”
“I won’t come inside if you aren’t around unless we agree to do some work here. We haven’t agreed to that yet.” As tempting as it was to have a key to a place he owned, I kept my arms against my sides and my hands closed.
He worked up a slow smile. “All right. I’ll be here tomorrow after four. Maybe you can both get here then.”
“I’ll bring her.”
“Good. Now if you give me a minute to lock up, I’ll drive back to town with you.” He hustled back inside.
I didn’t need his truck on the road with mine, but somehow the image of his large midnight blue truck following mine brought comfort. He came out a couple of minutes later and walked to the driveway. Apprehension made me stand in place, feeling like a schoolgirl who wondered if we should kiss each other good-bye.
We shouldn’t, I figured, at least not now.
The whine of an electric saw made me grateful for its distraction. Dave and I glanced toward the source of its sound on the neighboring wharf and then looked at each other. I swallowed when his gaze found my lips.
“I should go.” I made myself turn away, threw myself into my truck, and started the motor.
A mirror let me see he watched, a tight smile on his face with what I felt was a knowing expression. He knew I cared about him. I didn’t want it so obvious.
* * * *
Eve wasn’t excited about checking out the building, even if it meant the man who normally thrilled her would be there. She kept making dark marks on canvas when I got back to town and told her about him wanting us there.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” I said and hoped she would let me.
There was no use trying to get her to work with me now on the remodeling job we already had going for a customer. The job was large, would pay well, and while my shoulder took whatever time it needed to heal, we were having the subcontractors and helpers we often used complete parts of it. The young couple had bought the house because they loved the location and its basic floorplan and didn’t want to start with a new one. They wanted the brick house refinished in stucco to give it a modern feel. That was possible, we’d told them. They’d asked to have the nondescript front door replaced with a wide, attractive entrance. I looked over paperwork and plans we’d agreed on so far and drove off to see how things were coming along.
The number of trucks at their place pleased me. We hadn’t had our summer rains yet, so working conditions had been good. Georgia Andrews walked out of the house with her alligator purse when I drove up.
“Hey, Sunny, I need to go, but come in for a minute and see the front door we chose.”
I exchanged greetings with workers and followed her to what would become her office. House plans, books, and magazines took up
most space on the large desk. She grabbed the magazine on top of the others and turned to the pages she had marked. “Look at this.”
“Wow, that is fabulous, Georgia.” I leaned closer to view the outstanding stained-glass double door with rounded tops. Full-length matching sidelites ran up and circled above the doors.
“I chose this one because the curves throughout it remind me of my roses.”
“Lovely.” I knew her plan was to cover much of the front yard with knockout roses she admired so much. “And are you going to use a satin nickel trim instead of black?”
“Absolutely.” She gave me a bright smile. “Now I need to go.”
“I love your choices,” I said, and she waved and rushed out. I closed her magazine and walked outside to see how the men were coming along in the garage.
“This looks like a whole new room,” I told the foreman. “Great job.”
“Yeah, the guy that bought this place loves what we got done in here. I told him don’t put his stuff in here, but he’s been doing it already. He says he feels like he has a brand-new house.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll check it out.”
“Go ahead.”
It was a garage, after all, but at first glance, didn’t look like one. While the foreman and crew continued their work, I looked closer, satisfied that Eve and I had suggested they start in here, something we had done because when we went to their current house, although it was large and in a great neighborhood, the garage was a mess. Theirs had been built for three cars, just like this one, and held their pair of top-dollar cars and his motorcycle and absolutely anything else they could jam in there. Boxes and devices and tools scattered alongside ice chests and buckets and folding chairs that jutted into a walkway. I’d bumped my leg on a barbecue pit that had been shoved right beyond a large box.