The following two weeks were uneventful.
Mo managed the Moret business as men stopped by at all times of day and night to inform him of deliveries and bring money and supplies. I tried to maintain a respectful distance while he tended to his business. But I also strained to overhear anything I could use against his father.
I was gathering information on the Moret’s bootlegging business as well as their other criminal endeavors: fencing of stolen property, blackmail of judges and police, there was even a brothel located in a very wealthy neighborhood in New Orleans. I was determined that, even if I couldn’t kill Claude Moret, if he remained in jail, I’d have enough information to bring his entire enterprise crumbling down.
Joseph continued to heal. I rationed his liquor more vigilantly. He wasn’t pleased to be denied, but soon found himself a purpose sitting outside. A shotgun—a gift that had been delivered along with groceries by members of the Moret gang— laid across his lap.
“I better not see that pointed at me,” Mo growled at Joseph the first day he’d assumed guard duty.
“Well then, don’t go givin’ me a reason to,” Joseph joked.
They’d settled into a friendly discourse, but periodically I caught sight of the defensive walls they’d erected between each other. Their distrust still lingered just below the foundation of the mutual interest they’d developed: their safety.
I ventured into Cleric’s Cove every morning because, with Morets on the run and Mo in hiding at the cabin, the people wouldn’t come to my door.
Each day, I tucked a few candies or pralines in my pocket for the children.
“Yer spoilin’ that girl,” Mo said as I walked past him one day. He’d been out on the boat fishing and was returning to the cabin with a bucket in one hand.
I peeked over the edge of the bucket and saw several fresh trout. “I don’t know who yer talkin’ about. And ye better be planning to clean those fish. Don’t ye leave them fer me to do.”
The devil’s smiled slid into place on Mo’s lips as I brushed past him.
“Tell Odi I said she’d best be listenin’ to her mére. Leonie’s got her hands full with that girl,” Mo called after me.
There was little need for me in the village that day, so I joined Leonie under the shade of a tree, and we watched the kids play. I’d spent a lot of time with her and had even come to consider her a friend. I hoped to find a subtle way to ask her more about the Morets—and Mo in particular.
“You know you ain’t got to come ev’ry day, right? If someone really needs help, someone’ll come for ya.”
“I just worry. I went from seeing several people every day to nobody coming to my door since—.” I didn’t dare continue. Even though I knew Leonie was well aware of who was likely hiding at the cabin, it seemed like a breach of trust to say the words. Also, since it was evident that Cleric’s Cove had been bought and paid for by the Morets, I didn’t want to risk word getting around that I was talking against them. It did me no good if the Morets distrusted me.
Leonie smiled and swatted at the bottom of a toddler that ran past her with an armful of leaves as if he was going to throw them at her. “You got nothin’ to be concerned about. We’re doin’ our thing and you’re doin’ yours. We been without a doctor for a long time and we managed just fine. Besides, you wasn’t brought here to tend to us.”
The acidic rise of disgust burned in my belly as I realized that Leonie was referring to Jack and his claim on me. Jack’s claim that I belonged to him.
“Of course, I was,” I tried to detract from the rumor, to reassert the validity of my presence as a nurse. “I’m a trained nurse. Mr. Moret said Cleric’s Cove was in need of a medic. That’s why I’m here.”
She laughed. “Mr. Moret? I’m sure it’s convenient that you’re a healer. That makes the story Jack tells his wife more believable than all the others.”
Shame and fury lit through me. I shot from the chair suddenly, feeling the confines of the trap I’d allowed myself to be caught up in. Without another word to Leonie, I hurried along the path through the lush vegetation, desperate to be alone with my ire and humiliation.
As I approached the cabin, Mo looked up from where he cleaned the fish just off the back porch. I stomped onto the porch and threw open the kitchen door. Joseph sat at the table, hunkered over a bowl of something. His eyes were wide as I stormed into the room.
At the sight of him, I let out a carnal yell.
All I wanted was a moment alone, and at every turn I was met with the face of a Moret. Whether by blood or business, they were all Moret.
I stormed through the cabin, throwing open the front door. I ran, bounding down the steps, to the water line and along the shore of the lake. Rocks crunched under my feet. The waves licked at my feet as they pounded along the soft soil.
My breaths grew raspy, and the air burned as my lungs drew each one in. The thundering of my heart echoed in my ears. My legs quavered, unaccustomed to the pace they kept and the unsteady terrain they fought against.
I drew a ragged breath through my nose, filling my burning lungs with more air and pushed on farther. It would be better to force myself to run the entirety of Lake Salvador than to let anyone see the tears of humiliation and frustration threatening to appear on a now daily basis. But I was determined to choke back those damned tears. There was no way I was going to let Claude Moret drive me into a weeping state.
I didn’t make it around the lake though. Not even close.
Exhaustion gripped me as suddenly as my fury had spurred me on. I collapsed forward, hands on my knees as I drew ragged breaths. I struggled to gain control over my breathing, pulling fresh air deeply through my nose and pushing it back out through my mouth.
After several moments, I stood, lifting my arms over my head to open up my diaphragm as I’d seen coaches teach their athletes to do. My legs tingled, and heat flooded through them as the blood was carried to muscles I rarely challenged in my daily life.
It was several minutes before my ragged breaths grew even again.
I turned to survey the distance I’d have to travel back to the cabin, certain that a long walk faced me. The cabin, though small in the distance, was still easily visible. I’d run no more than a quarter mile I guessed.
“Fer feck’s sake,” I mumbled. It was what Mum used too when she was frustrated. I kicked at the soil and began the short walk back.
I paused at the dock, looking out over the water for several minutes. I’d made a critical error in believing that Leonie might be my friend. She wasn’t a friend of mine; she was simply part of the extensive buffer around the Morets. I’d been a fool.
Is this entire plan foolish? Can I ever really destroy Claude Moret or am I just fooling myself to think I could avenge my brother?
A shudder washed over me as I looked over the rolling waves. I glanced over my left shoulder, something drawing my attention to the thick vegetation behind me.
The tree line was thick and dark with the tangled weaving of trees and shrubs left to grow wild. Though I couldn’t see anything, I had the distinct feeling that someone was undoubtedly looking back at me. I felt the burn of eyes scrutinizing my every move.
I turned my gaze back to the lake, while my attention was firmly focused on what lie behind me. My skin prickled, and my heart thrummed. I recognized the innate warning systems nature had planted deep in our most animalistic selves. I forced myself to walk slowly back toward the cabin. I even stopped to look out at the lake again and bent to picked up a feather that lay on the ground.
Mo was standing on the front porch, leaning against the door frame, when I reached it. “You alright?”
As I brushed past him into the house, I mumbled a warning. “There’s someone in the bushes.”
I paced in the front room as I waited for him.
Mo stood in the doorway for several more minutes, inspecting the surroundings from the corner of his eye as he pretended to be cleaning dirt from under his fingernails.
He finally came back into the house and closed the door behind him. Without a word to me, he went to the back door and gestured to Joseph, who was sitting guard on the back porch. Mo snapped to get Joseph’s attention. With two fingers, he pointed to his own eyes and then in the direction of the tree line where I’d sensed the presence.
He closed the door quietly and reached his hand on top of the kitchen shelves. I was surprised when he withdrew a pistol and slid it into the waist of his pants at his back.
“Who is it?” I was both frustrated and grateful about the blankets that still hung in front of the windows. They prevented anyone from peering in at us, but also prevented me from being able to look out and see anyone who might approach the cabin.
Mo pushed the blanket aside a fraction of an inch and peaked out. “I don’t know. Could be the law.”
Or? I wanted to ask.
I sat at the edge of the armchair, ready to jump up and flee at the first sign the threat had grown more certain.
Mo remained at the window. He stood still, not betraying his caution with even the movement of his own breaths. It seemed impossible that a person could stand so motionless.
When he finally eased away from the window, Mo sat across from me at the edge of the bed. “Whoever it was, I don’t think they’re there anymore.”
“But they might come back.” I realized the risk to myself no matter who it was. If I was found in hiding with the Morets, I’d be guilty of collusion. But, if it was Jack—and I realized there was a real chance that he could be in hiding just outside my door—and he suspected Mo or Joseph had tried to move in on his “claim”, I’d be in just as much, if not more, trouble.
“We have to be ready to leave. Fast,” Mo said. He stood and rummaged through the shelves in the kitchen. He returned with a burlap sack that had been full of produce. “Put a few tins of food in it. Roll up your bedding every morning and put it in here. If there’s anything you can’t live without, it’d better fit in the bag, or you need to figure how to live without it.”
I gathered a can of pears, one of tuna, and a can of beans and slipped them into the sack. I rolled a clean change of clothes and my shawl together and pushed them deep into the bag. With my bedroll, I wasn’t certain I could possibly fit—or carry—another item.
Hours later, I remembered the one thing I couldn’t bear to leave behind. I reached into the back corner of the wardrobe and under the cloche hat I’d relegated to the deep recesses of the cabinet. The chain was cool and light as my fingers pinched it and pulled it into my palm. I looked around the corner as I withdrew it. Mo was at the back door talking softly to Joseph.
I quickly slipped the chain around my neck, my thumb fumbling with the latch several times before I was able to get it hooked securely. I slipped the locket into neckline of my dress.
Darkness engulfed the cabin as the sun set. There hadn’t been any other indications of anyone watching, but our nerves remained keenly attuned to any change or sense of danger. Joseph even abstained from his evening ‘medicinals’ after supper.
“I think I’ll stay out on the back porch and keep an eye out tonight.” He took the shotgun and used a light blanket to pad the chair before settling in.
“Can I get you anything?” I felt guilty, but much more comfortable, knowing that Joseph would be sitting watch through the night.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. This ain’t my first night shift.”
When I returned to the front room, I found Mo slipping the clean bedding from the wardrobe onto the bed. “You may as well get a good night’s sleep.”
I smiled and stepped past the freshly made bed to pull the blanket back and steal a look through the window. “I don’t see how that’s possible. Every nerve in my body is jumping. Every time I hear a sound I’m certain someone is about to burst through the door.”
Mo stepped behind me and took my wrist gently, causing me to let the blanket fall back across the window. His breath tickled my neck as he said, “I told ya I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”
I turned my head toward him, looking up into his eyes. Everything he said was in earnest. Mo believed he could protect me, he had no doubt that he’d do whatever it took.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “You have to trust me, Deirdre.”
He looked intensely into my eyes as he stepped back and pulled me gently by my wrist.
Mo led me across the small room, his gaze never leaving my own. He stopped at the bed and pulled me closer, his free hand slipping to my waist, pulling me in front of him.
My hip brushed against him and a fevered explosion burst through the rest of my body. My chest constricted against my lungs, making each breath harder to draw, but breathing was the furthest impulse from my mind as I looked up into Mo’s eyes.
My lips parted of their own accord, drawing in a soft gasp at the rush of feelings flooding my body.
Mo’s hands, gentle and warm against my waist, moved to my hips, his thumbs sliding softly into place where my hip bones protruded. He pressed softly against my hips, causing my knees to buckle against the pressure of the bed behind them.
He reached for my elbows, so that I eased onto the bed. As he leaned closer, his cheek brushing against my own, he whispered in my ear, “You need to sleep.”
The anticipation that had been burgeoning in my body was gone in an instant. What a fool I am. Had I really so misunderstood Mo? I’d been a slave to my foolish body and had completely misread him.
As he pulled away, I felt Mo pause. It was only a second. Maybe two. The pressure of his cheek against mine increased slightly. And just before he slid away, I was certain I felt the subtle warmth of Mo’s lips brushing against my cheek.
I laid back and pulled the sheet into a ball across my chest, certain that if he looked, Mo would see the thundering of my heart against the walls of my chest.
He retrieved his bedroll and went into the kitchen to turn out the flame. I heard the rustling as he prepared to lay out his bedding in there.
“Mo?” I called to him across the darkened room.
“Yeah?”
“I’d feel safer if ye were in here with me.” I wasn’t scared. I wanted Mo as close to me as possible. And for one night, I just wanted to dwell in that desire. I wanted him to be in the same room with me. I thought of the night we’d slept head to head on the kitchen floor. How I’d awoken with my hand wrapped in Mo’s. That was what I actually wanted, but I’d settle for feeling his presence as near as possible.
“Okay,” he said.
His bare feet scuffed as he padded into the room, and a low whine of friction echoed as he dragged the armchair across the floor. The air changed when he settled in beside the bed. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw his outline as he sat in the chair.
“I’m right beside you,” he said.
“Thank you,” I whispered. In the safety of the darkness I stared at his shadowed figure.
He leaned his head back against the chair. His breathing was even and steady. My own breath adopted the rhythm of Mo’s as I lay there listening to him.