Nine

Cleo drew back from the window and sucked in a deep breath. Whatever happened between Uncle Joe and the Breaux fellow, neither seemed to be happy about it. She could certainly sympathize. His arrival on their doorstep hadn’t exactly filled her with joy, either.

At least he’d returned the basket.

“Clothilde Trahan, are you spying again?” Tante Flo stood at the parlor door with a frown and a dish towel. She held the basket in the crook of her elbow. “I thought you learned your lesson when that boy out there fell through the roof this afternoon.”

Cleo had told her aunt the whole story when she arrived home earlier that afternoon, even backtracking to describe the previous incident with the snake. Of course, telling Tante Flo had been easy compared to worrying about delivering the news to Uncle Joe that her snooping had almost ended in disaster—twice.

“I saw the lightning and wondered if we had a storm coming.” Cleo released the hem of the starched cotton curtain. “I didn’t know we had company.”

Her aunt set the basket on the sideboard. “So you weren’t expecting him?”

“No.”

But had she expected him? Cleo wasn’t sure how to answer.

A gentleman would have saved her the trip and the explanations. A man like she figured Theophile Breaux to be would have waited to gloat when she finally returned to the cabin to claim it.

“I thought I might find Uncle Joe alone and speak to him about what happened this afternoon before we sat down to supper. Do you think he spied me coming up the road this afternoon?”

“All I know’s if he did, he never said anything to me.” Tante Flo shrugged. “But then he’s been busy all day doing this and that. Until he came in to wash up for supper, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since lunchtime.”

“I just hope he was too busy to notice.” Cleo looked away. “If he saw me before I had a chance to brush the pine needles out of my hair, he probably thought the same thing you did.”

Tante Flo’s frown tilted into a smile as her fingers worried with the end of the dish towel. “What else is a mother to think when her girl comes home from town covered in dust and her hair all in a mess? And the basket, well, I asked myself why wasn’t it with her?”

“Yes, I know,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not your real mama, but I sure feel like it, and I don’t keep my mouth shut at times like that.”

Stepping away from the window, Cleo embraced her aunt. “I’m so glad you feel that way. I wonder if you guessed what a trouble I’d be.”

“Trouble? Nonsense. Why this old house has become a home since you came to live in it.”

Cleo shook her head. “That’s very kind, but I doubt you expected you would end up with someone so. . .well. . . curious.”

“Oh, child, you’re so like your mama at her age. So full of life and smart. Why, that girl could outthink just about anybody, then charm them into not caring. And curious? Well, you’ve not seen curiosity until you’ve seen Marie.” Tante Flo held Cleo at arm’s length and shook her head. “I miss her so, but it’s like a little bit of Marie still lives on in you. You’ve been a blessing.”

Cleo gave her a sideways look. “Even when I’m a busybody?”

Her aunt pretended to study the question with great concern. She chuckled. “When you put it that way, well. . .”

A movement outside the window reflected in the pier glass over the sideboard caught Cleo’s attention. It was Uncle Joe, and he seemed to be pacing. The murmur of his deep voice rattled the windowpane, but the words were undecipherable. The tone, however, sounded decidedly angry.

“Oh dear,” Tante Flo said softly. Her gaze met Cleo’s. “I think we ought to walk ourselves to the other side of the house and see to supper. You stir the étouffée, and I’ll mix up the hush puppies.”

Cleo snatched the basket and followed her aunt out of the parlor. An ache had begun in the pit of her stomach. No matter how good Tante Flo’s cooking was, she doubted she’d be partaking tonight.

❧

“Monsieur Trahan, if you’ll just calm down, I’m sure we—”

“Calm down?” Joe stopped his pacing and stood at the far end of the porch, hands on hips. “Calm down?”

Planting his feet firmly on the porch boards, Theo stood. “Sir, I think there’s been some misunderstanding here. I’m not sure what I’ve done to set you off but—”

“Sit down!”

Although he was the bigger of the pair and younger than Joe by a decade and a half, Theo did as he was told.

Joe began to make a path across the porch again, passing the window where Theo had spied Clothilde standing moments ago. She was gone now, or at least she had the good sense to observe from a less visible spot.

Theo turned his attention away from the house and off toward the horizon. The rain seemed to be coming in fits and starts, blowing hard, then tapering off. Right now, there was nothing but a light drizzle falling from the eaves—a good time to make a run for home.

Except that his respect for Joe Trahan wouldn’t let him move from the porch until he’d heard what Joe had to say. Judging from the way the man had taken up his pacing once more, he might be there awhile.

While he had no idea what had set Joe off, he knew better than to try and say anything to further aggravate him. One thing he knew for sure: Bringing the basket back was a mistake.

Theo leaned back and heard the chains protest and clank. His stomach growled, joining the chorus of noises. Off in the distance, a flash of lightning zigzagged through the evening sky. The fresh smell of rain teased his nose and warned him that the lull in the weather soon would end.

He’d most likely be going home tonight hungry and wet.

Finally Joe stopped short and grabbed a straight-backed chair and shoved it near the swing. He turned the chair backward and settled on the seat, resting his arms on the back. Eyes narrowed, he stared at Theo as if he expected Theo to know what had brought on his fit of anger.

“Anything you want to tell me, boy?” He shifted positions slightly but never broke his stare. “Because in my experience, a man owns up to his misdeeds up front. Now am I mistaken about judging you as a man?”

What in the world is Joe Trahan talking about?

“Sir, I’m not sure how to answer that. Is there something in particular we’re talking about? Something I’ve done that’s got you riled up?” A thought dawned, and along with it a possible explanation for Joe’s anger. “Have you been talking to Alphonse?”

The older man looked puzzled. “What does your brother have to do with this?”

“Well, I just thought that maybe he. . .that is, considering I am supposed to be able to. . .” As Joe’s confusion became more apparent, Theo stopped talking altogether. “Never mind.”

Perhaps that secret was still safe. If so, then what was the trouble?

Joe made a slashing motion through the damp air with his hand. “Let’s get right to it, young man. You got a problem with plain talk?”

Theo sat up a little straighter and squared his shoulders. “No, sir. In fact, I prefer it.”

“Good.” Joe grabbed the back of the chair with both hands, turning his knuckles white. He lowered his gaze and seemed to be studying the floor. “This isn’t a conversation I ever hoped to have.”

Theo’s stomach complained again, and a gust of wind blew cold raindrops down his back. “Whatever it is, I’d appreciate if you’d get on with that plain talk.”

Joe nodded and looked up. “That I will.” He let out a long breath. “This is in regard to my niece, Clothilde.”

Good. Finally a topic he could warm to.

Joe must have heard his pesky niece was snooping around the cabin today. Serves her right to suffer her uncle’s ire. The only puzzle was why Joe seemed to be taking out a share of that irritation on him.

He pointed his finger at Theo. “Unless you can give me a good reason why my niece came home this afternoon with her clothes in a mess and her hair full of dust and pine needles, the next man you’ll be talking plain with is going to be the reverend.”

Theo opened his mouth to say something—anything—in his defense. Instead of allowing him to speak the words that would get him out of this mess, his mouth went dry and refused to work.

“Say something, Theophile Breaux, before I get my shotgun and loosen your jaw.”

“Go ahead and tell him, young man.”

He looked past Joe to where Clothilde’s aunt stood at the front door. Again he failed to force words of innocence from his mouth.

She strolled across the porch to rest her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Joe, the funniest thing happened today out at the cabin.” Meeting Theo’s gaze, she nodded. “Don’t be afraid to tell him about that hole in the roof my niece caused you to make. I got a good laugh out of the story when Cleo told me this afternoon.”

Theo nodded. “Yes, well, you see, I was patching the roof over on the north side.”

“That weak spot over the parlor?” Joe asked.

“Oui.” Theo paused to swallow hard, praying the words wouldn’t leave him again. “I was leaning over to make sure those nails were in straight when I spied a flash of yellow over to the east in the thicket.”

“Clothilde,” Joe said under his breath.

“Yes, sir, it was. I figured her for just hiding out and watching a spell, but she surprised me.”

“I whistled.” Clothilde stood at the door, leaning against the frame. “Well, I did,” she said when her aunt and uncle turned to face her.

“So you didn’t know she was underfoot?” Joe asked.

“No, sir. Before I knew what happened, there she stood at the bottom of the ladder, talking to me as if I’d seen her walk up.” He continued to stare past the Trahans to their niece, eyes narrowed. “Which I didn’t.”

“I made plenty of noise. I didn’t want him to think I was spying.” She stared right back at him. “I thought you heard me.”

“I was hammering.” While he had heard whistling, he had no recollection of thinking it might be the Trahan girl.

Clothilde toyed with the end of her braid. “Not constantly.”

“Enough for any normal person to know a man was working.” Theo felt his blood begin to boil. “Last thing I expected was for you to change your mind about never seeing me again and pay me a visit while you were out on your stroll.”

“I wasn’t out for a stroll. I went to town on an errand.”

“Which you failed to complete until I brought the basket back.” Theo stood. “For all the grief it’s caused me, I should have waited for you to come and get the stupid basket.”

Joe rose and pushed the chair away. “I believe I’ve heard enough.” He took his wife by the hand. “Why I thought there were shenanigans between these two is beyond me. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more mismatched pair.”

Flo offered a smile before she headed for the door. Joe disappeared inside, leaving Theo alone with Clothilde Trahan. At that moment, he decided taking his chances with the storm brewing on the other side of the porch rail was preferable to staying and risking another five minutes with the female tornado.

“Theo,” Joe called. “Come on in here and get yourself some supper. I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

Theo looked up at Clothilde. The object of his thoughts stood arrow straight with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. He felt about as welcome as that big cottonmouth.

“Merci beaucoup, sir, but I believe I’ll just go on home.”

Joe appeared in the doorway and pointed at Clothilde. “Get on in there and set this young man a plate. It’s the least you can do, considering you nearly killed him this afternoon.” As Cleo pressed past to disappear inside, Joe turned his attention to Theo. “Good thing my mother’s bed never got moved out of the parlor after she passed on.”

“You knew I fell through the roof?”

“Boy, that much was obvious.” Joe shook his head. “What I didn’t know was what part my niece played in the whole mess and where she was when you landed on the mattress.” He paused. “Or where she ended up afterward.”

Theo let out a pent-up breath and smiled. “I’m sure you can see you have nothing to worry about when it comes to your niece and me.”

The older man gave him a level stare. “I see nothing of the sort. Watch yourself with that girl, or next time your fall won’t be off a ladder.”

❧

Only later, across the kitchen table from Clothilde Trahan, after spending several hours sharing a meal and conversation, did Theo realize what her uncle had meant. By then, it was too late.

He’d fallen hard for Clothilde Trahan—and this time it had nothing to do with a hole in the roof.

The realization hit him somewhere between the shrimp étouffée and hush puppies and the sweet cake gateau de sirop. He’d been minding his own business, sipping chicory coffee and listening to Joe and his wife finish each other’s sentences and laugh at each other’s silly jokes, when he felt the wall around his heart begin to crack.

I want what they have. He suppressed a groan as he snuck a peek across the table at Clothilde Trahan. And I want it with her.

She smiled, first at her aunt and uncle and then at him. He tried and failed to return the gesture.

Lord, please take this feeling away. You and I have a deal, and it doesn’t include Clothilde Trahan.

Until He did, Theo knew he’d just have to stay out of her way.