Broken (13 page)

"What do you want to talk about?" asked Neely, a little perturbed. She stood with the door still open several seconds before realizing Trista was not leaving. She closed the door with a deep sigh.

"How dare you come in here and insinuate yourself into my mother's place?"

"That's not the case, Trista. Your mother is dead, and I'm very sorry for that. But Raif is alive. I love him. That's all I need to say to you."

"Then, you can listen. My father can do better than a trashy, slutty tattoo artist."

Neely's eyes grew wide. "I am
not
a slut. Your father is only the second man I ever made love to of my own volition. Little girl, get a clue."

"So, at least you admit to sleeping with him."

"Yes, Raif and I have made love, but there's nothing dirty or sordid about it."

"I know somebody as young as you cannot be in love with my father. God! He's old enough to be
your
father! Is that what you're after—a sugar daddy? Dad's loaded. So, are you after his money?"

Neely shook her head incredulously. "I love Raif. I would love Raif if he were living on the streets. Your father is extraordinary. Don't you realize that? Know this, too, Trista: I am
not
looking to be your mother, but being a friend would be nice."

"So, you want to marry my dad, then?"

"If Raif proposes to me, I will say, 'Yes.'"

"Well, keep hopping in the sack and get pregnant. He'll marry you for sure then. It's the only option in his old-fashioned mind."

Tears suddenly sprang to Neely's eyes. Trista noticed. She had hit a nerve. "I would love to give Raif a child, but I can't," Neely whispered. She wiped her eyes. "I can never have children thanks to being raped by five thugs and being sexually assaulted with a foreign object. Do you know how much I envy
you
? You really need to go back to the house now before this storm gets worse. I won't leave Raif no matter what you say to me. I
love
him, Trista."

For a moment Trista was speechless. Neely had never gotten angry, but she was hurt. Being unable to have children cut her to the quick. Trista did not know about Neely's attack. No one had told her the story.

Suddenly, lightning struck a tree nearby, plunging the cottage into darkness. The clouds were so black, it felt like night.

"I need to get back to the house," Trista said.

Neely said softly, "Maybe you should stay until the storm is over."

"Why would you invite me to wait the storm out here after the things I just said to you?"

"You're Raif's daughter."

"Still, I'm going back." Trista clutched her side. "Ouch!"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm sure. Ouch! Oh, my God! Neely, help me."

"What's wrong?"

"My water broke. It's a month too early."

Neely steered Trista to the sofa. "Sit down," she instructed. "I'll call 9-1-1."

The house phone was out. Neely had no cell reception. There was no way to call for help.

Outside, lightning flashed, torrential rain fell, and a power line between the cottage and the main house snapped.

Trista looked at Neely and worried.
Oh, why was I so mean to this woman? What if she won't help me
? Trista was terrified.

Neely covered her mouth in sheer panic that she wanted to hide from the girl.
Is this my fault? All this tension with Raif. Lord, show me what to do.

Neely said gently, "Trista, lie down on the sofa. I can't get any help. We might have to do this alone. I'm gonna get towels and boil water. It's a good thing that the stove is gas."

Like the lost child she was, Trista whimpered, "Neely, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so mean."

Neely stroked Trista's hair. "Little girl, I'll take care of you. Don't worry. I don't hate you, darling. I know you've been through a lot. Trust me."

"Okay," Trista sniffled. "I want my daddy. I can't lose my daddy too."

"Oh." Tears threatened to spill from Neely's eyes. "I don't want to steal your father from you. Never. I wish I could get him, but I guess I'll have to do right now."

Neely headed to the kitchen and bathroom. She paused in the doorway. She realized the child on the couch was so angry because she was afraid of losing her father. Neely rounded up supplies she would need—the water, towels, a pair of scissors, and a chip clip that would have to suffice for clamping the umbilical cord.

The weather stayed stormy. Neely lit several hurricane lamps. Six and a half hours later, she delivered Christine Shay Johnson.

Two more hours passed before Neely was able to make a phone call.

Late that night, Trista was able to get a land-to-ship call to Townes, and Raif entered Trista's hospital room in distress. His daughter slept in the bed while Neely dozed in a chair. This was a sight Raif had never thought he would see.

Neely woke and came to him. She whispered, "Shh. Let her sleep. She's fine, and the baby's fine. The baby is premature and will have to stay a few days, but she's healthy. Trista talked to Townes. He won't be back for two more weeks. They named the baby."

"What do they call her?"

"Christine."

Tears dripped down Raif's cheeks. "It's a good name."

"That's not all. It's Christine Shay."

"Seriously? Your middle name?"

"Yes. Trista told me you want her to move out."

"I was angry when I said that."

"I know. Don't you dare send her away! She's scared, Raif. She's scared of losing
you
."

Her mother's voice waking her with, "Thank you," Trista moaned, "Dad?"

Raif took his daughter's hand and sat on the bed. "Yeah, baby. I got here as soon as I could."

"Neely took care of me."

"I know."

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm fine with Neely. I was wrong about her, but you're still being hypocritical. Like you said, 'Truth is truth.'"

Raif looked at Neely. "Yeah, I guess you're right, baby. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Dad, do you still want me to move out?"

"No, baby. I was angry when I said that. I'm sorry too. I'm so sorry I bruised your arm. I didn't mean to hold you so tightly. Please forgive me."

"You what?" said Neely, the shock heavy in her voice.

"Stop," said Trista. "I won't be the cause of a fight between the two of you. I know I pushed you too far, Dad. I mean, I hit you, but it's over. I forgive you. Will you forgive me for being such a monster?"

Raif pulled his daughter's head onto his shoulder. "Yes, I forgive you. I love you, Trista. I wish I could give you the world and keep you beside me as my little girl forever, but you're a grown woman now. Besides, Neely is going to need your help."

"Why?"

Raif stood and turned to Neely. He reached into his pocket. "Because I want her to marry me." He pulled out a box and opened it to show a thirteen-diamond cluster engagement ring. "I love you, Neely. You've made me live again. Will you marry me?"

Neely covered her face with her hands and cried. Raif gently pulled her hands apart. "Will you marry me?" he asked again.

Neely nodded. "Yes. A thousand times, yes."

Raif held the ring in his hand. "There are thirteen diamonds because we are both lucky thirteen's. I had it designed just for you." He slipped the ring on Neely's finger and took her face in his hands and kissed her. She slipped into a warm, safe embrace.

"Excuse me," said Trista. "May I say something?"

"Only if it's, 'Congratulations,'" Raif replied.

14

Knight Moves

E
a
u
Boueuse had been hit by a tornado. Luckily, there had been no fatalities and the damage had been minimal. When the electricity was finally restored, the doctor released Trista, but for the next week, baby Christine stayed in incubation and the new mother made trips to the hospital every two hours to feed her daughter. Neely usually drove her and the two bonded.

Once the baby came home, Trista fell to helping Neely plan a wedding. "How big do you want it?" asked Trista.

"I don't have any family and only three close friends. Like you said, I'm sort of the Bohemian type. I want something simple, but meaningful."

"Neely, I'm sorry about the things I said about you. I think I used you as a scapegoat. I was so angry about my mother that I had to lash out at someone." The girl's voice came out strangled. "I miss my mother, Neely."

Neely took Trista's hand. "I know you do. I never got to know my mother. My memories of her are just little flashes. She died of breast cancer when I was three. My dad never married again. He raised me all by himself. When I was twenty-three, he had a massive coronary and died in my arms before the ambulance could get to him. I miss my father. I will have no one's arm to be on when I walk down the aisle."

"Why don't you ask your friend, Amile? Dad says Amile and Colleen adore you. Colleen could even sit in for your mother."

"That's an excellent idea, Trista." Neely chuckled. "She did tell the doctor when she was attacked she was my grandmother. Thanks for the suggestion."

"You're welcome. Now, how many attendants do you want? Who will be your maid of honor?"

A crease crossed Neely's brow.

"What's wrong?" asked Trista.

"I can't have two matrons of honor. My best friend, Esther, had me as her maid of honor. I can't have her and you."

"No, no," said Trista with a firm headshake. "Esther will be your matron of honor. I'm the wedding planner. I'm gonna make sure everything goes off without a hitch." She stuck out her lower lip. "Maybe I can live my wedding in yours. I didn't really get to have what I would have wanted—my own fault, I know."

Neely shook her head. "Then, Esther's all I want. I'll let you plan away, but don't wear yourself out."

"You got it. Simple will make Dad happy. Although everything he has or does is of the highest quality, he's not flamboyant." She waved the pen she was using around in circles. "Like, he drives a beautiful midnight blue Lexus loaded to the hilt, but he would never zip around in a Ferrari. That would be Uncle Ray. He even has an antique Ferrari Testarossa in his collection. That's not Dad. Take this house for example; it's elegant, but not ostentatious. Now, I just wonder if Dad will ask Uncle Ray to be his best man again."

Neely sat beside Trista on the bed. "What kind of wedding did Raif and Chris have?"

"It was small and informal, held in Meemaw and Papaw's flower garden at the gazebo."

"Well, I would like to have mine in the church."

"That's cool. Evening?"

"Afternoon, four, with a small sit-down dinner reception. Amile can cater it."

"That's a great idea. Where?"

"How about here at the house."

"Good again. How about your dress?"

Neely opened her sketch pad. "I drew this."

"Oh, I love it. That dressmaker Dad knows in New Orleans can whip this out in no time."

"You mean Avril DuLac?"

"Yes, that's her name. How about Esther's dress?"

"I drew it too. I'd like this one in pink. What do you think?"

"It'll blend well with the church colors. Yes. Of course, the men have to wear tuxes."

"Black, no tails."

"Of course not, not for the afternoon, but I just love the dresses.” She picked up the sketch pad made from hemp and looked at the designs more closely. "They are so you. A long Bohemian skirt with a peasant blouse just fits you. What material?"

"Cotton with satin ribbons."

Trista made notes in a notebook. "Perfect. Sandals?"

"If it weren't December, I'd say yes. What do you think about slipper type pumps?"

"Perfect. You're gonna be so beautiful." Trista reached out and touched Neely's hair. "Your hair is naturally this blonde, isn't it?"

"Yes. I've never colored it."

"Don't. Wear it down. Put flowers in your hair."

"Raif likes it down."

"I knew he would. I think if there had been one thing Dad would've changed about Mom, it would've been for her to let her hair go long, but she liked it short. She thought it was more professional, and it didn't get in her way. Dad loved her the way she was. Now, flowers."

"Lilies."

"Okay. Can we mix in some crimson roses? They will look great with the pink dress and the church colors."

"Rosebuds."

"That's good. Now, music. I'm sure Dupree will be happy to sing at your wedding."

"Really?"

Trista gave a little snort. "Absolutely. It's sort of his job in this family. I'll arrange it if you want."

"Please do, and I'll arrange the reception with Amile. Is that everything?"

"Not quite. We need a photographer."

"This is starting to get expensive."

"Dad can afford it." The baby stirred. Trista handed Neely the pad and pen to keep writing and picked up Christine to nurse her.

"I'm supposed to pay for the wedding," Neely said.

"You can forget that." She sat in the rocking chair beside the bed with the baby cradled against her breast. "You're doing something small and intimate, but Dad would pay for it if you wanted twenty attendants and to have it at St. Louis's in New Orleans. That's the way he is. It makes him happy, so let him do it."

"I really love him, Trista. I'm not after his money."

"I know that. It shows in your eyes. When did you fall in love with Dad?"

"You'll laugh."

"No, I won't," she assured.

"The day he got his tattoos. He was only a fantasy. I never thought I'd actually have a chance to be with him. He loved your mother so, but I held him up as the standard of the man I was looking for. I thought he was absolutely perfect."

"Neely, about having kids with Dad."

Neely laid the notebook to the side. "You know I can't."

"Maybe you'll get a miracle. Pray about it, but you could adopt a child. I'm sure Dad will agree. After all,
he
was adopted."

"I'll think about it. For the moment, I just want to be his wife."

"Okay. Let's review our list." Neely leaned against the head board and smiled at the new mother and her baby. She passed the pad to Trista.

Trista looked over the list. "Clothes—check; attendants—check when Dad tells us who he wants; place—check; time—check; flowers—check; reception—check; music—check; photographer—I know a good one, so photographer—check. Invitations?"

"Raif said to give him the information and a list, and he'll have them printed and get his executive assistant to address and mail them."

"Good enough, so invitations—check. Showers—I'll take care of that."

"I really don't need a shower. We have all the stuff we can use in a house."

"Then, it'll be a lingerie shower. I insist."

"Okay. It'll be fun."

Trista took the plans and ran. Townes got home just in time for the normal Thanksgiving hoopla. His first stop was a long kiss with his wife who giggled like a little girl when it was over. Then he held his daughter. "Oh, my God," he whispered.

Trista put her hand on his shoulder. He leaned his head onto hers. "We made this beautiful little person. I do love you, Trista. Christine was not an accident—she was a blessing."

"I love you too." She kissed her husband and Christine whined. Trista laughed. "I have to take her now."

"Okay. I'm going to run see my folks. I'll be back in an hour. Think we can get your soon-to-be stepmother to babysit for a couple of hours so we can have dinner out?"

"I think Dad would love to, and Neely—yeah, she's really kinda cool."

Townes would be home for six weeks, until the week after New Year's. Then, he would be stationed in Norfolk, Virginia, and Trista would be going with him. Now that Trista had bonded with Neely, she hated to leave, but she planned a memorable wedding shower and wedding before time for her to leave.

One day, Neely burst into the house in a panic calling, "Trista!"

"What?" asked Trista coming down the stairs.

"We forgot wedding gifts. I don't know what to give Raif. I'm sure he'll go crazy with diamonds or something. What do I do?" She pointed outside. "He's building a studio for me but insists it's not my gift. He just says the guest house is for guests, so he won't convert it."

"Paint something just for him."

"You think?"

"He will
love
it. He already has your unicorn in his office. Paint something for his home office—maybe Pegasus in flight—a black Pegasus with blue eyes, like Dad is taking flight. I really have no idea what he's getting you. He's being very secretive. It must be big. Get to painting, woman. You only have two weeks."

Neely and Raif's wedding day, the day after Christmas, came threatening a deluge, but nothing could dampen their spirits. Raif asked Patrick to be his best man because he wanted all his children to be involved.

Esther happily served as her friend's matron of honor, but they had to adapt her dress a bit for her protruding abdomen. Neely was both happy and sad that her best friend was expecting a child. The sadness stemmed from her desire to have a baby of her own. Nonetheless, even that melancholy could not overpower the joy she felt at becoming Raiford Gautier's wife.

Neely wore her simple cotton and satin-ribboned Bohemian skirt with a peasant blouse and flowers in her long flowing hair.

Amile Barbeau joyfully laid Neely's hand in Raif's as if she were his own daughter and took a seat beside Colleen DuPin. Sitting in the spot reserved for the mother of the bride, she grinned as if she had a secret.

Dupree gladly sang, but he twisted Lindsay's arm into singing with him. Knowing Neely liked old tunes, he chose Journey's "Open Arms" for his solo, Roberta Flack's "The First Time ever I Saw Your Face" for Lindsay's solo to fit her low contralto voice, and Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack's "Tonight I Celebrate My Love for You" as their duet.

Neely turned a rapturous face to Raif's adoring eyes as they exchanged vows. Reverend Paxton used a simple ceremony to fit the gentle spirits of the two he joined.

"Raiford Lance Gautier, do you take this woman to be your wife?"

"I do," replied Raif.

"Then, repeat after me. 'I, Raif, take thee, Neely, to be my wife.'"

Raif repeated vows he never thought he'd ever utter to another woman.

"'I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.'"

"I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life."

Reverend Paxton turned his attention to Neely. "Neely Shay Rivers, do you take this man to be your husband?"