THREE DAYS LATER, on a Friday afternoon, Liam tossed a stick across Ma Dixie’s yard and watched Rio run for it. He was thankful for the day off, for the cool dankness of the rich bayou air, the way it refrigerated the August heat. The chickadees’ fee-be, fee-be sounded from the sweet gum and cypress trees, and the earthen, leafy smell tickled his nose.
“That’s it, the dog needs to use up a little energy before we can work on training.” Pudge LeFrost sat on a wooden chair, tilted back against one of the small cottage’s stilts.
Rocky ran alongside Rio, basically chasing the stick himself. “Same principle with the boy,” Pudge added, grinning his easy grin. “Fostering kids like we do, we know to keep ’em running all day. A tired kid is a good kid.”
Liam nodded. “Thanks for taking the time to help us.”
“Ain’t me who’s got a busy day,” Pudge said. “You’re the one what’s climbing the police department’s career ladder.”
“Not real fast, these days.” Liam looked around at the rich, green world and his shoulders loosened. Here, he could be himself.
He hadn’t grown up at the cabin belonging to Ma Dixie and now to Pudge as well, but he’d spent a lot of time here. His brother Sean was the one Ma Dixie had fostered, whereas Liam had grown up with a different family in the town of Safe Haven. But Ma’s huge heart had had space for Sean’s brothers, and she’d offered an open invitation for them to visit as often as they wanted. As a result, he and Cash had spent a lot of time paddling canoes in and out of the bayou, making sure they hid from Ma the fact that they were smoking cigarettes or sneaking a few beers.
He still felt welcomed by that open invitation, which was why he’d thought of bringing Rocky and Rio out here in advance of Ma’s weekly Friday night supper. Pudge was a genius with animals—and kids—and if anyone could tame down Rio’s wildness without breaking his spirit, it was Pudge.
He’d hesitated a bit before inviting Yasmin to join him and Rocky and Rio. Seeing Buck at her house the other night had kicked up all his old jealousies. But, he’d reminded himself, she couldn’t help it that Buck was the one investigating the stranger’s death.
Now, looking back through the window, he saw Yasmin and Ma talking comfortably, standing together over the counter, chopping something. The cabin was small and cooled only with fans and swamp coolers. Yasmin had grown up in so much more affluent circumstances; he liked that she was able to spend time at Ma’s humble place and genuinely enjoy herself.
“Okay, boys, time to work.” Pudge heaved himself upright—no easy feat, considering that he weighed more than three hundred pounds—and held up a small bag that had been tucked into the pocket of his massive overalls. “This here’s the key to good training.”
“What is it?” Rocky asked.
Instead of answering, Pudge held the bag out to the boy. “Smell it.”
Rocky did, and then made a show of falling down on the ground and rolling around, gagging. “Ugh! That’s foul! What is that?”
“Gator,” Pudge said with equanimity. “Dogs like meat, and there ain’t nothing tastes so good to them as gator.”
He proceeded to teach them how to make Rio sit, stay and come when called. It was slow going; Rio was good-natured but almost completely without discipline. “What do you think?” Liam asked after about twenty minutes, feeling ashamed of his dog. “Is he a lost cause?”
“No animal’s a lost cause.” Pudge stuck a wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth. “Every dog learns at a different pace. If he’s had a bad experience, he’s not going to learn as fast. Same if he’s scared.”
He produced another bag of treats. “Tell you what. Let’s run through each of his commands again and try to have him succeed once. As soon as he does, we’ll give him a break.”
Rocky did it, calling out commands to Rio in the firm voice Pudge had suggested. Finally, Rio went through the sequence: sit-stay-come.
“And, that’s a wrap,” Pudge said, rubbing Rio behind the ears. “Go throw a couple of sticks into the water, boy. Let the dog chase it. He’ll love that.”
As the two ran away, both Liam and Pudge watched them. “Something’s happened to that boy,” Pudge remarked. “He’s in pain.”
Liam stared at the man. “What do you mean? Physical pain?”
“No. Pain right here.” Pudge gave his chest a double pat. “I can see it in his eyes. Seen it a lot, in the kids Ma fosters.” Then he looked up and his face broke into a wide smile. “Well, would you look what popped up out of the swamp.”
Liam looked in the direction Pudge was pointing. There, coming along the road, was a silver sports car, top down.
His brother Cash. The star of the show had made it after all.
Spectacularly successful, Cash had an easy personality and had always been the best-looking of the three O’Dwyer brothers. There’d even been a time when Liam had thought Yasmin preferred Cash to him.
That could happen again, since Liam and Yasmin weren’t together. Cash wouldn’t have horned in on Liam outright, but an ex was fair game.
And then Liam got a grip on himself. Jealousy and competition were something he needed to grow out of. He was genuinely proud of his brother’s success. And thankful for his generosity, which had made a huge difference to Liam at an important time.
Cash bypassed the house and came around to where Pudge and Liam were. He bent down to shake Pudge’s hand, then stood and held out an arm. “Little brother,” he said, and they man-hugged. “You chief yet?”
“No.” His answer was sharper than it had been with Pudge, but come on. Everyone kept asking him about the painful subject of his advancement—or lack thereof—at the police station. It got old.
Cash shrugged. “Being at the top can be lonely,” he said. “Being one of the players instead of the manager can be a really good thing.”
Both Pudge and Liam stared at Cash, clad in impeccably designed dress pants and a starched white shirt, sleeves neatly folded up, shoes that even Liam could tell were expensive leather, not made for bayou walking.
“Something you want to tell us?” Pudge asked.
“Like that you’ve killed off my real brother and taken over his body?” Liam joked. “You’ve always been about success.”
Cash shrugged. “It gets old,” he said, and then got very focused on his phone. An action that was probably fake, because cell reception was terrible out here.
It pulled Liam right out of his own concerns. Cash had a ton of money, a revolving door of gorgeous women and an ocean’s worth of pressure on him. And he’d grown up the same as Liam. Their abusive father and lost mother might have even affected him more, because he was old enough to remember more of the bad things.
Liam punched Cash lightly in the arm. “You need anything, you know I’ve got your back, right?”
“Thanks. I’m fine.”
When they went inside to eat, some kind of conspiracy between Pudge and Ma and Cash made Liam end up sitting right next to Yasmin, so close their shoulders touched at the small wooden table. There was seafood gumbo, and pulled pork, with sides of collards and corn bread and baked mac and cheese. After eating until they were stuffed, they all somehow found room for Ma’s peach cobbler. Cash told stories of his high-living business deals that had Rocky and Ma’s foster son wide-eyed, and Ma and Pudge shaking their heads.
Liam watched Yasmin as she dug into the food and laughed at all the right places. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her face, which gleamingly revealed how little makeup she wore. She’d pulled her long curls back into a ponytail, with some kind of braid going along one side. It made her look more like she had in school, young and innocent. For once, the tension had left her shoulders and her eyes were clear.
He was glad he’d brought her. Ma’s place was good for the soul. Yasmin carried too much and deserved a chance to kick back and relax with good people.
Only problem was, he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself, especially when she threw her head back, laughing at one of Pudge’s silly jokes. The long column of her throat seemed to beg to be kissed. When she pulled her shirt away from her chest and stomach, flapping it a little for air, he wanted to fan her, make her comfortable.
Make her happy.
And those were thoughts he didn’t need to be having. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in a relationship, and she’d dumped him for someone else, someone who was still interested if Liam could believe the evidence of his own eyes. He sucked in bayou-warm air and ate some more cobbler, trying to find another focus for his thoughts.
Ma Dixie gave it to him. “’Bout time to be thinking about school, ain’t it?” She looked from her foster son to Rocky. “What grade are you in, son? My Dustin, here, is going into sixth.” She ruffled Dustin’s hair.
And that right there was what made Ma a great foster parent. Every kid who lived here, whether for three weeks or three years, was considered wholly hers.
“When does school start?” Cash asked.
“Starts two weeks from Monday,” Pudge said. “These boys better enjoy their last couple weeks of freedom.”
“Dustin’s sisters, Desiree and DeeDee, they’re already doing cross-country camp,” Ma added. “Those girls are fast as the wind.”
“You think you’ll get involved in any sports?” Liam asked Rocky.
Rocky’s lower lip stuck out, and his body went rigid. “I ain’t goin’ to school here.”
Yasmin cleared her throat. “He’ll be starting seventh grade. What’s the school like here, Dustin?”
“I ain’t goin’,” Rocky said, louder.
Dustin ignored him and shrugged. “It’s school. But it’s not so bad. C’mon,” he added, looking at Rocky, “let’s get fishing poles and take the canoe out.”
Rocky seemed to debate whether to stay and argue with the adults or go be a kid. Being a kid won. He stood, and both boys practically ran toward the back door.
“Don’t you want to stay and eat your...” Yasmin looked at the two boys’ already-empty plates. “Oh.”
“Boys!” Pudge said, and there was an authority in his usually good-natured voice that made them stop instantly and turn back. “What do you say to Ma?”
“May I be excused?” Dustin asked.
“That was a real good dinner,” Rocky added.
“You boys go on out and have fun,” she said, her smile wide. “But stay where you can see the lights from the house, you hear? Don’t go off deep into the swamp.”
“We won’t,” they chorused as they ran out the door.
Liam glanced over at Cash, and they grinned at each other. Liam figured Cash was remembering the same experiences he was. They’d done plenty of canoeing and fishing when they’d visited Sean out here as boys, just about Rocky’s and Dustin’s ages. And they hadn’t stayed where they could see the lights, but the directive did keep them closer to Ma’s place than they’d have stayed otherwise.
Cash’s face went serious, and he put his hand over Ma’s chubby, freckled one. “You were so good to us when we were that age. Still are. I want you to know I appreciate it.”
Liam met Pudge’s eyes. What was up with Cash? He was the least sentimental of all of them, at least normally.
Ma just smiled and turned her hand over to squeeze Cash’s. “You’re a good boy, Cash. You might not always show it, but there’s a heart of gold in there.”
Cash snorted. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” Then he stood. “Here’s what I think. Ma did all the cooking, and Pudge has been training that mutt of Liam’s. And I’m lazy. So I think Ma and Pudge and me should go sit outside and watch the sunset while these youngsters—” he pointed at Liam and Yasmin “—do all the cleanup.”
Ma opened her mouth to protest, but Pudge spoke up. “Great idea.” He struggled to his feet and held out a hand to Ma. “Come on, you heard the boy.”
Two minutes later, Liam and Yasmin were alone in the kitchen, with a tableful of dirty dishes.
Liam found he didn’t mind at all. Even when a text from Cash pinged on his phone. You’re welcome.
DON’T BE AN IDIOT, Yasmin told herself as she carried dishes from the table to the old-fashioned, white ceramic kitchen sink. He brought you along because he knew he needed help with Rocky. That’s all.
In fact, she’d been shocked when Liam had asked her if she wanted to come out to Ma Dixie’s. She’d never been, even when they’d dated; when she’d asked about it, Liam had downplayed the occasions, saying they were too casual, too country for her. She hadn’t been confident enough, then, to argue, even though she’d longed for an invitation. She had heard for years about Ma and her Friday night suppers. Liam and his brothers had spent a lot of time around here. It had defined their teenage years and had been a respite from the tough love of Liam’s foster family and the rigors of school.
Of course, she knew Ma and Pudge from church and events in town. But to see them in their natural element, here in the bayou, to taste that traditional cooking and to hear Pudge playing his ukulele, it was frankly wonderful.
She had been worried sick about Joe all week, ever since she’d learned that he was researching ways to disappear. Tonight, though, he was helping Miss Vi with the kids’ chess club and Yasmin could relax without worries.
Thanks to Liam, who must have seen that she needed it.
Being protective, helping others, that was just who Liam was. He’d do the same for anyone; it wasn’t about him inviting her out here because he had special feelings for her. That had been over long ago, if it had ever even been real. Sometimes, it didn’t feel like it had.
Was it wrong to pretend, though? To allow the idea of doing dishes with him to make her happy?
If this was what she got, as happiness—and she was pretty sure that this was all she’d get—she would take it.
She carried two half-empty bowls, one in each hand, over to the kitchen counter. “Do you know where she keeps Tupperware? Or does she even have it?”
Liam laughed. “Oh, does she ever. She never throws anything away.” He opened a cupboard that was completely full of neatly stacked plastic containers, recycled from whatever they’d originally held: Cool Whip, or lard, or sour cream.
“Sweet.” She pulled out containers and spooned the leftover corn pudding and gumbo into them, then found space for them in Ma’s crowded fridge.
When she turned to go for another load, he was right behind her, reaching past, his cologne smelling spicy, combined with the scent of him. Liam had the image of being a good guy, almost a Boy Scout. But there was another side to him, a dark, passionate side, and she’d had the privilege and the thrill of seeing it.
Her blood pressure shot up.
Could he tell?
His eyes met hers, held. Hidden messages, nonverbal ones, seemed to pass between them.
Yeah, he could tell. No doubt about it.
She drew in a breath. “’Scuse me,” she said, and sidled past him.
She tried to focus on the mismatched crockery that somehow looked perfect on Ma’s rough-hewn table. Then she looked out the window, hoping the nature that surrounded them would make her feel cool and serene.
Out in the bayou, Rocky and Dustin paddled by, Rio in the middle of their canoe, mouth lolling open. They were staying close, which was good. She wasn’t sure Rocky could swim.
Liam was scraping dishes and then plunking them into a sinkful of soapy water. “Sorry we’re putting you to work here,” he said. “No dishwasher. It’s a big job.”
“I’m glad to help.” She scolded herself for the fact that she sounded breathless. “Let me bring you the rest of the dishes, and then I’ll dry.”
When she slid the last dish into the soapy water, her hands brushed against his. They were slippery with soap and the water was warm, and even that mild touch made her go soft and lazy inside. She leaned into him a little, then jerked upright, her face heating.
She who never relaxed wanted to collapse and let a man care for her.
He drew in a breath and took a step away, pulling out his hands. “Sorry.”
He was protective, always had been, about anything physical. Even when they’d dated last year, he’d wanted to take care of her. He hadn’t pushed her into intimacy even though she’d known he desired her. Or at least, she thought so.
She watched as he washed more dishes, whistling, ignoring her.
Maybe she’d had it all wrong.
They worked together in silence for almost an hour, getting the kitchen cleaned up and shiny, all the dishes put neatly away. She even swept the floor. But finally, it was over and there was no more to do, no more reason to be in a room alone with Liam. She sighed.
He looked over at her. “Come sit on the porch a minute?” He nodded toward the now-deserted front porch.
“Sure.” Pathetic how quickly she’d responded. It must be super obvious that she wanted to be with him.
And you can’t be with him, she reminded herself. She’d made her decision about kids, and she wasn’t going to keep torturing herself with what she couldn’t have.
She followed him out onto the moonlit porch, where an old-fashioned glider covered with flowered vinyl offered the only seating. Where could she sit, except right beside him? And it was warm—she felt very warm—but there was a cooling breeze.
Cash had stuck his head into the kitchen half an hour ago, saying he was leaving. Rio and Dustin and Rocky were back in Dustin’s room, one of the only two rooms in the house with air-conditioning. From Ma and Pudge’s open bedroom window, they could hear the sound of a television, some sitcom with a laugh track. Apparently Ma and Pudge liked it, because their real-life chuckles sounded along with the tinny canned laughs from the show.
He put his arm across the back of the glider. Not around her, she reminded herself. Across the back of the glider. “I used to sit out here every time I came,” Liam said. “Listen to the bayou.”
She paid attention to the nature sounds, then: the peep-peep-peep of frogs, the call of a night owl, the splash of flopping fish, the gentle lap of water. “I can see why you like it,” she said. “Josiah would love it here.”
“Should I have invited him?”
She shook her head. “Sometime, maybe. Not today.” Then her face heated. She didn’t mean to imply that they’d have a future in which he’d invite her relatives to his favorite places.
They didn’t have that kind of future. Could never have it.
“How’s he doing?” Liam turned a little to look at her, his knee brushing hers.
Something about the dark night and the friendly natural sounds of the bayou gave her the desire to confide. “He’s up and down,” she said. “He likes his job at the library, and he loves teaching kids to play chess. He’s glad to be back in Safe Haven.”
“Sounds like there’s a ‘but,’” Liam said.
She nodded. “At times, he’s really struggling. It breaks my heart.” Her throat tightened on the last word.
“It’s not my business, but I’ve wondered whether he’s in some kind of treatment.” Liam leaned back and looked out at the darkening water. “Is he able to get the help he needs here?”
Yasmin drew in a breath. “I really can’t tell you his diagnosis. That’s his business to share. But you can probably make an educated guess after spending a few hours around him.”
“Well, he hears voices and has delusions,” Liam said. “Sounds like schizophrenia.”
Yasmin looked down at her knees and gave a tiny nod. “There are just so many prejudices about that disease,” she said. “Josiah is a good man. And yes, he has good doctors. Mostly in Charleston, since that’s where he was living when he got his diagnosis. But there are good people up here as well and they’re willing to consult with his primary doctors.”
“Medication can help a lot, right?”
“Yes, but only if he takes it.”
“Is that an issue?”
She hesitated. She longed to confide in Liam, who had such good sense and knew her family. But at the same time, he was an officer of the law. If he knew that Josiah didn’t always take his meds, what kind of conclusions might he draw?
Better to focus on Josiah’s good side, or one of them—he had a lot. “When he takes his meds, he’s a little more, I don’t know, muted than he would normally be. But he does really well then. He’s a genius with technology. Miss Vi is thrilled to have him helping update their systems at the library.”
“Figures,” Liam said. “He always was crazy smart.” Then he mock-punched himself in the head. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“It happens.” Yasmin shifted on the glider, set it rocking with one foot and tucked the other foot up under her. “I think Joe wants to leave, move away,” she said, surprising herself. She hadn’t had anyone to talk about it with, that idea that Josiah wanted to disappear. He hadn’t been willing to discuss it with her, and she was terrified of what that might mean. Was he hiding something? Trying to escape what he’d done?
“Seems like he shouldn’t be away from family.” Liam clasped his hands around a lifted knee. “You’re really doing a great job of helping him. It can’t be easy.”
His praise warmed Yasmin’s heart, chipping away at the hard lump of constant criticism and self-doubt that seemed to reside there. “It’s an honor to take care of him. But yes, it can be hard sometimes. And he feels bad, like he’s a burden.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through that.” Around them, the sound of peeping frogs got louder and louder, swelling into a chorus. The air was cooling now, a slight breeze bringing the fragrance of oleander flowers. It only seemed natural for Liam to shuffle closer on the glider. To let his arm curve around her shoulders.
Yasmin’s breath whooshed out of her. Talking with Liam about her brother had made her feel vulnerable, but also relieved. Less alone. She remembered when she could share anything with Liam, knowing that he would always have her back. Such a wonderful feeling, especially after Josiah had stopped being able to be that rock and that support to her.
Now, Liam turned to meet her gaze head-on. His hand rose to brush back a curl that had escaped her ponytail. “I like your hairstyle,” he said unexpectedly, his voice a tone deeper than usual. “Reminds me of the old days, when we were in school.”
“In other words, I look like a kid?” Her words came out breathy, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Slowly, Liam shook his head. “Oh, no, Yasmin. You don’t look like a kid at all.” His eyes flickered down to her mouth, then back to her eyes.
Yasmin’s heart fluttered like a terrified bird. Her stomach, her chest, all that was inside her felt squeezed by warm hands, melted.
How she wanted this. This opportunity to talk to Liam in a low, intimate voice. To share the smiles and glances of lovers. To feel that sense of promise, that there was something happy and bright in their future together.
She tried to grasp on to the reasons why this couldn’t happen. How she didn’t dare to have children, because the risk of them developing a mental illness was so high. Not only because of Josiah, although that was the main thing, of course. But also because of her mother’s issues: anxiety at the least, possibly depression and bipolar disorder, as well.
More conditions that had a genetic link.
As if all of that wasn’t enough, Yasmin knew she wasn’t past the safe age herself. Women developed schizophrenia later than men in many cases. What if she got into a relationship and then started having delusions and hearing voices?
It was hard enough taking care of her brother, her blood relative. She owed him and bore the burden gladly. But she couldn’t expect a romantic partner to do the same for her, wouldn’t want someone to.
Wouldn’t want Liam to. He had so much promise, and he had already suffered so much in life. He didn’t need a girlfriend with mental health issues. That just wouldn’t be fair to him.
“Hey,” he said. He stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes, his own blue eyes concerned. “What sinkhole are you going down? You look like you just saw six ghosts.”
“Maybe I did.” Not the kind of ghosts he meant, but ghosts of a possible future.
If she let things go where they were headed right now, if she let him kiss her, she wasn’t sure she would have the strength to push him away again. Doing it once had nearly killed her. Maybe she could be strong enough, but only if she put an end to this before getting closer. “I think we should go.”
His head tilted to one side, his eyes steady on her. “Do you really think so?”
She hesitated, clung for just a moment to the possibility of not being the responsible one, the caretaker, the one who took charge of things and tried to make everything work out. She could let herself do what she wanted to do every now and then, couldn’t she? She could be spontaneous, go with her emotions, her heart.
But no. Her duty was clear. Her life was about taking care of her family, not about indulging in something pleasurable for now, but ultimately dangerous to someone she cared about. Liam was too good of a man, had suffered too many of life’s blows already, to be shackled with Yasmin’s issues. “Yes,” she said firmly. “I really think so.”