Mimosa Grove (8 page)

He frowned. “What the hell are you saying?”

“You come to me in my sleep.” Laurel’s face flushed with embarrassment. “And then we make love. I feel you inside me, but I never hear you speak.”

Justin started to shake. “This…what we just did…we’re still dreaming…right?”

“I don’t think so.”

He touched her face, then her hair, then her face again, running the ball of his thumb down her cheek, then across her lips.

“You’re real? This is real?”

Laurel nodded.

Justin grabbed his clothes and started putting them on. The need to put something more than distance between them was suddenly uppermost. When he picked up his shirt, he paused, then turned around, staring as if he’d seen a ghost.

“You came to me,” he said. “You walked into my bedroom every night…”

Laurel picked up where he left off. “…just after I went to sleep. One moment I’d be alone in my bed, and the next thing I knew, I’d feel you pulling back the covers, then…”

Justin dropped his shirt onto the bed. “…I’d take you in my arms and…”

Laurel finished the story. “…make love to me.”

He grabbed his shirt and quickly pulled it over his head.

“I don’t know what to think. This is crazy.”

Laurel wouldn’t let herself think about how deeply the ugliness of that last word cut.

“I felt the same way last night when I saw you rescue your niece.”

He blanched. “You what?”

Laurel shrugged, then looked away, unwilling to see the disbelief on his face.

“I saw you through Rachelle’s eyes.”

“You…ah, God…so that’s how you…”

There was a long pause, but he didn’t curse, he didn’t laugh. In fact, if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn he’d just accepted her answer as gospel.

“So this isn’t a dream?”

“No.”

“And we’ve been making love to…no, dreaming of making love to each other for months?”

Laurel hesitated, then nodded.

“Jesus,” he whispered softly, then took her in his arms.

His breath was warm against her face, his grip firm yet gentle. But it was the urgency in his voice that pulled at Laurel’s conscience. What had happened between them was startling, but not out of the realm of her beliefs. It was Justin who looked as if he’d just been broadsided.

“You don’t think it’s…that I’m crazy?”

Justin didn’t realize until she spoke that he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, then cupped the side of her face.

“If it had not been for you, my sister’s little girl would have died last night. You saved her life.”

Laurel shuddered as he traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb. She couldn’t quit staring. She was tall, a little above five feet, eight inches, but she had to look up to meet his gaze. His hair was the color of a raven’s wings and just brushed the collar of his shirt. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell if they were brown or black, and his lips were wide and full. His jaw was strong. His chin had something of a stubborn curve, and now she knew the sound of his voice as he came inside her.

“I quit dreaming of you after I left D.C.,” she said, then added, “I missed you.”

Justin’s heartbeat stuttered as his mind went blank. Without asking, he knew she was referring to the fact that they’d been absent from each other’s dreams for several nights now. His ache was sudden and fierce, and while he was not a man who took foolish chances, he could no more have lied to her than he could have quit breathing.

“I missed you, too,” he said.

Laurel sighed. His voice rumbled roughly against her cheek. She knew he was rattled, but she had to give him credit for standing his ground.

“I know we’ve just met,” Laurel said.

Justin smiled. “
Chère,
what just happened between us wasn’t a meeting, it was, at the least, a revelation.”

Laurel blushed.

Justin laid his cheek against the crown of her head.

“I came to say thank you to the woman who saved Rachelle’s life. I didn’t know she would be the same woman who’s been haunting my nights.”

Laurel didn’t know if the haunting was good or bad.

“As you have mine,” she reminded him.

He put a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back until they were looking eye to eye.

“How did this happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“If I was superstitious…”

Laurel flinched. “Are you?”

He smiled, then shook his head.

“No.”

“So?”

He brushed his mouth across the surface of her lips, then broke away with a soft groan.

“So…hello, Laurel Scanlon. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Laurel smiled.

“It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh. Before I forget the real reason I came… Besides thanking you for leading me to Rachelle, my sister and her husband are having a big party Saturday night. It’s sort of a thank you to all the people who helped search. I’ve been given strict orders to tell you that you are invited. In fact…you’re to be the guest of honor. Please say you’ll come.”

Laurel was floored and made no move to hide it.

“Are you serious?”

He frowned. “Yes. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Where I came from, what I can do is not looked upon with favor.”

His Cajun accent thickened with emotion.

“Then,
chère,
I’m sorry to say you have lived among fools. Down here, we honor those touched by God.”

Touched by God?
It was all Laurel could do not to weep for joy.

“You tell your family that I would be honored to meet them and to come to their party.”

“If you would allow me, I will be your escort.”

“And you don’t think it strange that today was our first meeting, Saturday will be our first date, and we’ve been making love for months?”

He grinned. “
Chère,
not only is it strange, it’s a downright miracle. But, then, who am I to question such a heavenly gift?”

It was then that Laurel began to believe her life was truly taking a turn for the better.

J
ustin was gone by the time Marie came back from Bayou Jean. His appearance and their subsequent lovemaking had so rattled Laurel that she had abandoned her curiosity about the third floor of the mansion for a cooler day and changed the sheets on her bed instead. As she gathered up the discarded sheets to take downstairs to the laundry room, she got a whiff of Justin’s cologne. Without thinking, she buried her face in the bundle and inhaled slowly, savoring the memories and the scent of the man who’d made them with her. What had happened between them was extraordinary, even in Laurel’s life. She had no explanation for their connection, but she was guessing that since he lived near the estate she’d just inherited, it all had something to do with proximity—and, of course, fate. And while she wasn’t about to question the gift of such a man in her life, she had no intention of letting anyone else know. Thus the need for clean sheets.

After she’d put the bedclothes in the wash, she’d wandered through the downstairs, sifting through the books in the library. As she poked about, it occurred to her that there were probably books on the top shelves of the floor-to-ceiling library that hadn’t been looked at in years. She thought about exploring them and began testing the built-in ladder that ran the length of the shelves, making sure that the rungs were secure. Satisfied that they would hold her weight, she climbed partway up, then changed her mind when a spider ran out from behind a bookend, leaving minute tracks in the thick film of dust covering everything on the upper shelves.

“Eeew,” she muttered, grimacing as the oversize eight-legged critter disappeared between two books. “This place is going to get a thorough cleaning. And whether Marie likes it or not, we’re going to need some help.”

Having decided that exploration would have to wait for another day, she decided to take herself outside. Elvis was perched on the corner of the roof over the veranda. When he saw her coming, he let out an earsplitting shriek of disapproval, which sent Laurel over the edge. When she saw him flying down from the roof, she decided she’d had enough of him, too. After dealing with Elvis, she found a pair of clippers and a hoe in a shed out back and was hard at work, putting a new look to the overgrown shrubs around the front of the house, when Tula and Marie returned.

Marie’s shock at seeing Laurel in such sweaty disarray quickly turned to shame. It was her fault that the place had gone to seed, but for the past few months, it had been all she could do to get through a day taking care of Marcella’s needs. Seeing to the grooming of Mimosa Grove had been so far down on her list of things to do that she’d never gotten to it. To see Laurel doing what she should have done herself reduced her to tears.

She got out of Tula’s old truck before the engine had stopped running, waving her arms as she hurried toward the house.

“No, no, baby girl…you got no need to go and do all that. I went and found us some help just like you wanted. Tula got a grandson needin’ work. He’ll be here tomorrow to start cleanin’ up this place.”

Laurel smiled as she tossed a handful of clippings into the refuse pile and then wiped her forearm across the sweat on her forehead.

“That’s good, Mamárie, but I like doing this.” She spied a small green inchworm on the front of her shirt and flipped it off. “Except maybe for worms. I have, however, been having such a good time that I think I might have missed my calling.”

Marie looked properly horrified, while, on the other hand, Tula was grinning. It wasn’t every day that someone got the best of Marie LeFleur.

Suddenly it dawned on Marie that there was something missing in the front yard.

“Where’s Elvis?”

“In his pen,” Laurel said.

“How did you make that happen?”

Laurel’s chin jutted mutinously. “I put the fear of God into him—and a broom against the backside of his ass.”

Marie looked startled, then smiled while Tula laughed aloud.

Laurel laid her gloves on the porch steps and then went to the truck to help carry in the groceries.

Again Marie seemed bothered, and when Laurel turned around with a sack in each arm, she couldn’t hide her dismay.

“You’re the mistress of Mimosa Grove. What will people think of you actin’ like this?”

What she didn’t say was “What would they think of me?” She didn’t want to be viewed as incompetent or unable to work. The fear of being turned out in favor of someone younger had been uppermost in her mind ever since Marcella’s death. And even though she and Laurel had hit it off, she didn’t want to be thought of as too old to do what needed to be done. Mimosa Grove was as much a part of her life as it had been Marcella’s. It wasn’t just a place where she worked, it was her home. The fear of having to finish out the end of her days elsewhere was horrifying.

Laurel laughed at Marie’s indignant expression.

“Oh…Mamárie, you’re asking the wrong person if you think I care what other people think. Now, get yourself in out of this heat. You can put up the groceries while I carry them in, how’s that?” She pointed at Tula, who was still sitting behind the steering wheel. “And you…Ms. Tula…you get yourself inside with Mamárie. I made some lemonade. You two go in and cool yourselves off. I’m right behind you.”

Tula slapped her leg and then rolled out from behind the wheel. She’d planned on being home in time to watch an
Oprah
rerun, but she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said.

Her gait was slow but steady as she made her way up the steps.

“Come on, Marie. Looks like we finally got ourselves a proper mistress for Mimosa Grove. She knows her own mind like I do mine, and I’m thinkin’ I might like some of that lemonade.”

Marie frowned, but secretly she was proud. Tula was right about Laurel knowing her own mind. And it had been a long time since there had been anyone at Mimosa Grove who cared about anything but the past. It would be good not to have to carry the entire burden of this place alone. Still, she didn’t want Laurel to think she could be manipulated easily.

“I’ll just be carryin’ in this little sack as I go,” Marie said, then snatched up a sack before walking past Laurel and Tula, and into the house.

“After you,” Laurel said.

Tula paused, giving Laurel a long, studied look.

Laurel felt off center, not knowing what the old woman was really thinking.

“So?” she asked.

Tula’s eyes squinted until they all but disappeared beneath the caterpillar fuzz that passed for her eyebrows.

“So…I think you gonna do. You gonna do just fine,” she said.

Laurel felt an inordinate amount of pleasure from the old woman’s simple praise.

“Thank you,” she said, then impulsively handed the two sacks she was carrying to Tula. “If you don’t mind, would you take these the rest of the way to the kitchen while I go back for the others?”

“I be proud to help out,” Tula said.

Laurel hurried back outside, anxious to get the groceries out of the heat. A few minutes later, they were in the kitchen, emptying the last sack, dividing the purchases between those that went into the pantry and the ones that needed refrigeration.

“Here, Mamárie, this is the last of the cold stuff,” Laurel said as she handed a gallon of milk to Marie.

Marie scooted a jug of orange juice to the side and set the milk onto the shelf beside it.

“Now, then,” Marie said. “Where’s my lemonade?”

“Coming up,” Laurel said as she opened a package of Oreo cookies and put some on a plate. “Who wants cookies, too?”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Tula said.

“Help yourself,” Laurel said, then began to pour the lemonade.

Marie frowned as Laurel puttered around the kitchen.

“It don’t seem right…you waitin’ on me like this,” Marie muttered.

“I do it because I want to.”

Marie’s lips pursed, but there was a smile in her eyes as she reached out and patted the back of Laurel’s hand.

“Then I thank you,” she said gently.

Tula handed Marie a cookie.

“Here, woman, put your teeth around this.”

“I might be wantin’ more than one,” Marie said.

Tula scooted the plate of cookies toward her old friend.

“Then help yourself.”

Laurel felt a sense of loss as she watched the two old friends squabbling back and forth. She sat down with her lemonade, then leaned forward, satisfied to be nothing more than an observer to their friendship.

It was Tula who first noticed Laurel’s wistful look.

“What you thinkin’ about, girl?”

“About how lucky you are to have each other as friends.”

Tula winked at Marie, then laughed.

“Shoot, honey. We aren’t friends. We don’t even like each other.”

Marie cackled. “That’s right. We don’t.”

Taken aback, Laurel didn’t know what to say. Then she caught the look that passed between them and knew they’d been teasing.

“You’re putting me on, aren’t you?” she asked.

They nodded in unison; then Marie put her hand on Laurel’s arm.

“Honey…the first thing to learn about havin’ a friend is knowin’ when to laugh.”

Then Tula added, “And knowin’ they’re there when you need a good cry.”

“I’ve never had a friend like that,” Laurel said.

Tula took a cookie from the package and handed it to Laurel.

“Here’s the way I see it. Marie, here, is gettin’ old.”

“So are you,” Marie muttered.

“True enough,” Tula answered. “Anyway…as I was sayin’…it seems to me that we’re in dire need of another friend to take Marcella’s place. One of these days, one of us is gonna pass just like she did, and if we don’t have a backup, we’re gonna be all alone.”

Laurel nodded, because right then, speaking aloud would have been impossible without crying.

Marie winked at Tula, then picked up where she’d left off.

“It’s a serious thing…bein’ a friend,” she said. “You have to love without judgment, and you don’t offer an opinion unless it’s asked for. But you do have to be there whenever the need arises. Think you can handle that?”

Laurel took a deep breath, then nodded.

“Then that’s that,” Tula said, and lifted her glass of lemonade. “Friends forever.”

The glasses of lemonade were lifted off the table, clinked gently one to the other, then the women holding them drank to the foundation of the bond that had just been laid.

Laurel thought of Justin, of what had passed between them and what had yet to occur. Back in D.C., she’d had no one, yet her world had been continuously expanding since she’d set foot in Bayou Jean. She looked at their faces, open and waiting. She’d shared laughter and food. Was it possible that having friends could be this simple?

“Now that you’re my friends, I have something to tell you.”

The two old women leaned forward, subconsciously drawing closer.

“I’m going to a party Saturday night with Justin Bouvier. You need to tell me what to wear.”

“Party? Justin Bouvier? When did all this happen?”

Marie shot three questions at her before Laurel could answer one.

“When he came over to thank me for my help last night, he said his sister’s family is having a big party Saturday night to thank everyone who helped with the search.”

The frown on Marie’s face lifted somewhat, but Laurel could still hear her mumbling beneath her voice about social etiquette and doing things right. Before Laurel could justify herself, someone started knocking on the front door.

More than ready to reestablish her position as the woman in charge, Marie jumped up from her seat.

“I’ll be gettin’ that,” she said, and strode out of the room.

Laurel smiled as she watched her go. If the simple statement about attending a party got her on edge, she could only imagine what she would think if she knew what had gone on upstairs. And that thought reminded her that she had yet to put the sheets in the dryer.

“Tula, I need to put a load of clothes in the dryer. Help yourself to some more lemonade. I’ll be right back.”

“Take you time,
bébé,
” Tula said, and palmed another cookie.

A few moments later, Laurel was setting the timer when she heard Marie calling her name.

“Just a minute,” she said. “I’m in the laundry room.”

She punched the start button on the dryer and then headed back into the kitchen. As she started down the hall, she could tell that whoever had been at the door was now in the kitchen.

“What’s—”

It was as far as she got before she lost her train of thought. All six feet plus of the man she’d just been naked with was standing beside Marie, but looking at Laurel as if he might eat her alive. Laurel was caught off guard by his reappearance. The look on his face wasn’t helping. His gaze was fixed, his posture stiff. She couldn’t imagine what had brought him back.

“Justin! It’s nice to see you again, but I didn’t expect another visit so soon. Did you forget something?”

He took a deep breath and then reached for her.

“After I left here, I drove into Bayou Jean, deposited some money in the bank, bought groceries and then started home. The closer I got, the more confused I became. The road still made that S curve just outside of town. Mose Reynolds’ vegetable stand was still in the same place. I waved at him just like I do every time I pass by. The sun was beaming on the hood of my truck just enough that when I headed west, it ricocheted into my eyes…and I began to doubt what I was seeing…and what I’d seen.”

When his hand brushed the side of her face, Laurel froze. She was afraid to look at Marie or Tula. Then he spoke, and she found she could not look away.

“I had to know,” he said softly.

“Know what?” she asked.

“If you were still here…if you were still real.”

Laurel smiled. “So is the consensus in?”

Justin leaned forward, kissing the smile she was still wearing and satisfying himself that he hadn’t lost his mind after all.

Marie’s shocked hiss complemented Tula’s throaty chuckle. Laurel was too stunned to react one way or the other.

Suddenly remembering they were not alone, Justin reluctantly let her go.