Broken (27 page)

"They will, Brian," Ray said with confidence.

Ray and Brian walked out together. "Are you sure about this, Ray?" ask Brian.

"Today I am," laughed Ray. "I'm not a good paper pusher, Brian, even if I decide to come back to work someday. I am, however, a damned good detective. You, on the other hand, will make a great chief of police. Congratulations, Chief Baker!"

28

Living a Lie

P
atric
k
Gautier woke as the birds chirped on the windowsill of his apartment's bedroom. He glanced down as the light-auburn hair of the woman who slept on his chest tickled slightly when she breathed. He looked at the Celtic cross that matched his own tattooed on her shoulder blade.
Has it really been two years since that cross and fireworks display flashed before my eyes?

Patrick closed his eyes and let the memories wash over him. He was only eighteen. College had seemed like Xanadu after the sadness of his mother's murder. Then that blasted plagiarism thing had shattered that illusion. His dad and his aunt had saved him. In celebration, several of his fraternity brothers had taken him to a gentlemen's club on Bourbon Street.

Many of the merchants in New Orleans were lenient about checking identification. College students brought in a lot of revenue. So, he and the guys had several rounds of drinks and watched the girls dance. There had been some really fine ladies performing, all with catchy little stage-names.

Then, the announcer had introduced a newcomer all the way from the Emerald Isle. The girl called herself Irish Spring. The wispy green frock complete with sheer gossamer wings of a fairy and the light, airy, auburn hair, crystal blue eyes, much like his own, and soft ivory skin accompanied by the lilting Celtic music had mesmerized Patrick. When the shimmering garment fell at his place at the stage and the Celtic cross and perfect breasts twirled before him, he held his breath, so captivated was he by the spell this mystical creature had cast upon him.

When the number finished and the girl knelt to retrieve her frock, their eyes met. She smiled softly and innocently before she vanished from the stage.

The guys left the club a while later, and Irish Spring waited at the bus stop for the city bus. Patrick held up a finger to the group. "I'll be right back."

"Patrick, don't go over there," warned one of his comrades.

Patrick went anyway. He introduced himself, and Irish Spring gave him a look that would have made most men turn and run. After a couple of moments of persistent talk, the girl rewarded him with a few words in an original Irish brogue before the bouncer came to her rescue and she vanished onto the bus.

A grin on his face, Patrick returned to his room and pulled out the student directory.
A student named Jenna Something-Irish. I got that much. I want the rest.

Patrick searched until he found Jenna Thornton, and he called the next day. With a wee bit of persuasion, he got a date; and then another and another.

Patrick went home for Thanksgiving, but could hardly wait to get back to New Orleans. So, when his phone rang during Larkin's annual Christmas-tree-decorating party and he answered to a tearful Jenna asking him to come back, he made an excuse about a project getting messed up and left.

Jenna met him the second he pulled into a parking place.

He pulled her into his arms. "It's all right. I'm here. Tell me what happened."

She told him a man wanting a private dance grabbed her arms and called her a number of names before the bouncer tossed him out

"Did he hurt you?"

She pulled her sweater off and when Patrick saw the bruises on her arms, anger filled him. All he wanted was to protect her.

He ran two fingers along her jawline. "I love you, Jenna. Let's elope."

"What?"

After a bit of coaxing, Jenna gave in, and eight hours later, she was Mrs. Patrick Gautier.

Patrick took Jenna to work nearly every night and was there to pick her up when she got off. On one Saturday when Jenna worked the afternoon shift, Patrick made a trip to Timeless Tattoos and got a Celtic cross tattoo just like Jenna's. The next week he took her to eat at Amile's Crawfish Emporium. Neely, Colleen, and Amile had seen him with her, and he'd had the strangest feeling he was being followed at one time.

Patrick had not taken his bride home for their first Christmas. He did not think his father could deal with that after all the other stressful things. It was enough he sprang moving off campus on Raif. He had moved in with Jenna. Patrick looked down again and grimaced.
Mom's right. I am an ass. I still hate this cheap apartment and second-hand furniture, but I won't say that to Jenna.

He had, then, decided to go to summer school, saying that he wanted to graduate early. He could not tell Raif about Jenna in addition to Trista's little surprise. Then, Raif and Neely had gotten together, and Trista had been so mean. He couldn't break the news just when Raif had some happiness. He even went for two weeks in Virginia. He couldn't believe neither Neely, Colleen, nor Amile had mentioned the girl they had seen him with. Still, he lived a lie. He even hid his wedding ring when he was around his family, but Jenna wore hers even on stage.

His mother's ghostly words haunted him. He sighed and continued his trip down memory lane.

Now, Raif had a new family, and here it was Thanksgiving Day, and he was expected home. After all, it was the Gautier year to host.
What am I gonna do?
Patrick let out a long breath.

He looked again at the beautiful woman who slept in his arms—the woman who had never demanded anything from him although she had given him looks that melted his heart and pierced him to the quick.

Jenna's eyes flutter open. She gazed up at her husband. "What aire ya thinkin'?" she asked.

"It's Thanksgiving," replied Patrick.

Jenna propped her chin on her hands on Patrick's chest as she asked, "Patrick, aire ya ashamed of me? Aire ya ashamed of the way I earn money? Is that why ya've never taken me 'ome to meet yer family when me grandmother knows all aboot ya?"

"No!" answered Patrick too quickly.

"Then, I put it to ya, Patrick Gautier. Either ya take me 'ome with ya this time, or I am filin' for a divorce. I'm tired of livin' a lie."

29

Surprise Doesn't Cover It

P
atric
k
opened the front door to the Gautier house. "Hello?" he called.

In the kitchen, Neely had her hands in the stuffing mix, and Trista had just basted the turkey. "It's Patrick," squealed Trista in childlike delight. She and her brother had always been close, and she bounced on her toes at the thought of surprising him.

"Go!" laughed Neely. "He doesn't know you and Townes have six weeks here with us."

Patrick said to Jenna, "I'll run our luggage up. Everybody's in the kitchen, I'm sure. I'll be right back."

As Patrick topped the stairs, Trista pranced into the foyer where Jenna stood looking around. Jenna knew Patrick's family was wealthy, but she felt intimidated by her surroundings. Hardwood floors gleamed beneath heavy linen drapes, held back by gold filigree cords that hung from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Ceiling fans with woven bamboo blades etched with a golden band near the edge stirred the air even in late November. And this was only the entry at the base of the stairs.

"Hello," said Trista. "I'm Trista Johnson, Patrick's sister. I did hear his voice, didn't I?"

"Aye," replied Jenna. "I'm Jenna, Patrick's wife."

"Patrick's what?"

"Trista?" Patrick said from the stairs. He leapt down the stairs three at a time and engulfed his sister. "I'm so glad you're here."

Trista grabbed Patrick's left hand. He wore his wedding band. "So am I," she trilled. "Yes! Someone else for Dad to holler at."

Patrick said seriously, "I don't think Dad has ever hollered at anyone in his life."

"That's right. That would be Uncle Ray. Dad glares and speaks slowly and softly when he's totally pissed. Boy! Do you have some explaining to do!"

"You don't know the half of it. I see you've met. Trista, don't say anything. Let me do the telling."

"I wouldn't dream of spoiling this." She turned to Jenna. "Come on, sister. Let's go to the kitchen." She locked both arms around Jenna's left and dragged her away. "Dad and Townes have gone out to gather the foliage and flora Neely wants to use as decoration. All the little girls are upstairs in the girls' room. That's why the gate was at the top of the stairs, Patrick. You did close it back, right?"

"I'm not an idiot," said Patrick.

"Debatable," Trista countered. "Go find the men."

In the kitchen, Trista said, "We have an extra guest. Patrick brought this lovely lass with him. This is Jenna."

"Hello, Jenna. It's nice to meet you," said Neely, washing her hands. "I'm Neely. I saw you having dinner with Patrick once at Amile's. His café was next door to Timeless Tattoos, which was my business. Raif will be glad to know Patrick is actually involved with a woman."

Trista bit her lip not to laugh or to blurt,
Involved doesn't cover it.
She giggled and thought,
Covers?
Trista busied herself peeling boiled eggs to devil.

Jenna said sincerely, "I've seen some of yer work at Pierre's Picks. Ye're very talented."

"Oh! You're Irish. How wonderful! Are you a student at Tulane?"

"Aye. I'm studyin' photography. Maybe one day I'll 'ave a show of photographs."

"That would be excellent. Let me know whenever you have something ready. I'll talk to Pierre."

"Lately most of my photographs have been of Patrick."

"It must be love," laughed Neely.

"Aye, it is."

Trista was about to burst. She was exceedingly grateful when the doorbell rang. It was Ray, Larkin, Christopher, Courtney, Cherie, Albert, and Dorothy. Trista introduced Jenna as Patrick's surprise and by first name only.

Everyone was warm and cordial. Ray said, "Well, it's about time Patrick brought you here."

"Excuse me?" said Jenna.

"I confess I knew Patrick had a female roommate because I had him watched before Lloyd Palermo was arrested."

"Ah," said Jenna. "Patrick said once 'e thought 'e was bein' followed. 'E was a bit apprehensive."

"I left him a voicemail, but I bet he never checked it."

"It's all roight. Ya were protectin' 'im."

"I think it's wonderful," said Larkin. Then, she joked, "Finally, another redhead for the family besides Cherie and me."

"Aye," agreed Jenna with a delightful smile.

Patrick, Raif, and Townes came in with the wildflowers Neely wanted and the ladies arranged them. Trista introduced Jenna in the same manner to her father and her husband. Raif said, "I was worried Patrick might never meet a woman, but I can see he has very good taste. He inherited that from me."

Jenna blushed but laughed. Raif made eye contact with Ray who mouthed, "The roommate."

By six o'clock, the house was jammed. Neely had arranged tables in the large open sun room so that everyone would be together to eat. She had the children's table for Cherie, Lydia, Leah, Roxanne, who wanted to change tables, Lucy, Marley, and Tate Blackwell. Ashton, Lacey, and Christine had to have high chairs close to their mothers. There were the young adult tables for Patrick, and now Jenna, Parker and Sheena, Trista and Townes, Courtney, Kyle, Kimberly, Tasha and Wesley Johnson, and Brian Baker's three children and their significant others. She had the adult table for Ray and Larkin; Terry and Carol Johnson; Brian and Olivia Baker; Saul and Deanna Blackwell; Amile Barbeau and his wife Francine who was pregnant for their first time at forty; Wylie and Esther Combs who came in for the occasion and had a chair for their baby, Forrest; Dupree and Lindsay, Miss Maxine Carmichael, who had been Parker Reynolds's one good foster parent and who Ray had tracked down and befriended, and Raif and her. Last, she had the wisdom table for Albert and Dorothy Reynolds; Walter and Audrey Betram; Auggie and Rona Fairchild; Estelle Funchess, Dupree's mother; Colleen DuPin; and Mother Superior Mary Alex Samuels who they had insisted join the family.

Jenna whispered, "Aire ya sure, Patrick, this isn't an Irish family?"

"No, this is Cajun."

As was the custom, the host had to tell what he was thankful for, make a toast, and say a prayer. Raif stood. "First, I'm thankful I have a big house. If this family keeps growing, we'll need two turkeys."

"We already do. I brought a fried one this time," heckled Ray.

Raif dipped his head. "Thank you, my brother, for your gift of foresight. Last year I was thankful for my fiancée. This year I'm thankful for my wife, Neely. She brings me joy with every moment. I'm thankful that the evil that has stalked this family has finally been put to rest, but I continue to pray for justice. I'm thankful for the friends and family I already had, but this year I am exceedingly thankful for three new daughters, Lydia, Leah, and Lacey."

Raising his left hand like a school boy Patrick thought,
I can't believe nobody but Trista noticed the wedding band.

"Patrick, would you like to say something?" asked Raif playfully.

Patrick stood and made eye contact with his father. "
Four
new daughters, although Jenna's not exactly new. I know Trista has introduced her to everybody, but she didn't introduce her properly since I told her to let me do the telling. Jenna and I are married and have been for two years." Patrick exhaled before he fainted.

Raif set his wine glass on the table. "Excuse me?" His brow creased. "Perhaps, I misunderstood you. Married for how long?"

"Two years."

Raif took several breaths. He glared at Patrick just as Trista had predicted. Then, he spoke slowly and softly. "Patrick Louis Gautier, how
could
you have kept that beautiful lady a secret for two years? How could
she
have let you get away with that?
Why
are you telling us now?"

"She threatened to divorce me."

"Good. For. Her. Patrick, in the garden.
Now
."

Raif started out the sliding door and paused. "Ray, would you bless the food so everyone can eat before the meal gets cold, please?"

"That's what microwaves are for. We don't eat without the host," answered Ray.

Raif nodded and gave Patrick the come-hither finger. Patrick followed his father. His mother's voice rang in his ears. "Surprise doesn't cover this."