Controlling Interest (30 page)

Instead he grunted and pretended to scan the ramshackle New Orleans skyline. “Yeah, and people always do exactly what you say.”

“Why are you so crabby this morning? I got Oksana to tell me Yasmine's going to Pensacola.”

Matt sighed. It wasn't her fault he was sleep deprived. On second thought, it kind of was her fault. But she didn't need to know that. “Yes, you did. You're Super Sleuth, Natalie. I salute you.” He touched his forehead with a couple of fingers.

Maybe he sounded more sarcastic than he intended. She bit her lip. The one that tasted like strawberries. “I'm sorry. I just wanted to warn you that Oksana's going to meet us in Memphis after she finishes this cruise. I'll go say goodbye to Cook.”

Matt felt it when she was gone. He looked down at the water churning under the blunt prow of the boat like chocolate milk in a blender. His thoughts tumbled just as violently.
Lord, I'm not ready. What if she's not the right one? I don't want the responsibility.

He listened, but heard nothing except the cheerful, circus-like hoot of the calliope.
Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton!
Old times there are not forgotten — Look away! Look away! Look away, Dixieland . . .

Had God looked away from him? Doubt took him by the throat. He'd put up a front of confidence for Natalie, but this case had turned out to be just as frustrating and confusing as the one involving George Field.

So they were headed for Pensacola. Fine. But Pensacola was a big place. And it was a long way off from New Orleans. After renting a car, they'd have to call somebody to take care of Natalie's Miata left in Vicksburg — probably Eddie, who was going to be none too thrilled with Matt's lack of management skills — and try to get a hold of Yasmine's family again. They weren't going to be happy either.

Lord, what a mess. And now Natalie had taken on a Russian mail-order bride as a secretary for a business that was about as stable as a house made out of popsicle sticks.

Looking out at approaching Lake Pontchartrain, Matt felt a smile tug at his mouth. Hanging out with Natalie Tubberville was anything but dull.

“I will be on my way to Mobile in thirty minutes.” Jarrar let a Wilson Air parking attendant affix a hang tag to the Lexus's rearview mirror, then handed him the keys. Not having Feroz here to handle the details of travel was inconvenient, but necessary.

Now that his business was satisfactorily concluded, and he knew where to find Yasmine, he was going to go after her himself. He knew exactly how to convince her that her best interests lay in a speedy marriage.

“I know we're in a hurry, but I've got to have some clean — ” Natalie caught herself just short of mentioning her unmentionables — “clothes.”

She stood in line with Matt at a po'boy kiosk in the New Orleans Riverwalk. The smell of fried shrimp and sourdough bread, grilled sausage and onions was turning her stomach wrong-side out. People milled around them in thick droves, accents from all parts of the country, all parts of the world. The atmosphere, even in post-Katrina non-Mardi Gras season, proclaimed the local philosophy — let the good times roll.

Natalie wished it were that simple.

Matt glanced at her as he handed a credit card to the cashier. “Hang in there, we're in the home stretch.” He took the tray with their food and headed for a table. “I'm going to find an electronics store so I can charge our cell phones. Then I'll call a rental car company, while you go buy whatever clothes you need, and we'll meet back up.”

“Okay. Did you get a hold of my dad before your phone battery went dead?”

“Yeah.” Matt's expression said Daddy had given him a hard time. “He and your mother are going after the Miata.”

Natalie stopped in the act of squirting cocktail sauce on her sandwich. “My
mother
?”

“That's what he said. Are you sure those two aren't, you know, getting a little action going again? They spend an awful lot of time together for divorced people.”

“I know.” Natalie shook her head. “I don't have the nerve to ask my mom about it. My sister thinks I'm crazy. She says they're haggling over child support issues. But you know, Nina and Nick will be out of college in a year or so, and all that will be a moot point. I wish my parents had a relationship with Christ. You can't talk to people about biblical marriage if they don't believe cohabiting is wrong.” She grimaced. “Right before you and I left for Helena, they gave me a lecture about safe sex.”

Matt choked on his po'boy, and Natalie whacked him on the back. He got control of his voice. “They seriously thought you and I — Are they
insane
?”

Natalie sighed. “That's what I'm saying. They don't think it's wrong or dangerous for two healthy unmarried people to, quote, have a good time. Just told me to be careful. It's like I'm the grownup in our family.”

He sat silent for so long she thought he wasn't going to reply. Then, “You think it's possible to be pure after you've . . . let the horse out of the barn?”

Natalie looked up from the pickle she'd been trying to spear with a plastic fork. Matt's expression was intense. He really wanted to know what she thought. “I have to believe that, Matt. I'm not saying it's easy, but I can't live in guilt the rest of my life.” She searched his eyes. “Can you?”

“I don't want to.” He pressed his lips together. “Hey, look at that hairdo.”

She followed his gaze to a street musician putting together a saxophone a few yards away in front of an airbrush T-shirt shop. The guy's long dreadlocks, twisted with shells and yarn, flopped around as he bent to open the case and throw in a couple of dollar bills as seed money.

“Wonder if he's any good.” Evidently the heart-to-heart was over. She sighed and stuck the pickle in her mouth, puckering at the sour taste.

Laissez les bons temps rouler.

I – 10 through Louisiana was patchy, and huge stretches through Mississippi were under construction. Matt let Natalie drive to Mobile while he spent the time making phone calls. Cole McGaughan was the first person on his list. Turned out the McGaughans were home from Montgomery on sabbatical, so Cole insisted Matt and Natalie stop off at their home.

Located in midtown Mobile, it was a quiet old neighborhood, many of the houses marked by historical plaques beside the doors. The unpretentious brick bungalow had a small yard dwarfed by a huge oak dripping with Spanish moss, a couple of pecan trees, and a magnolia in full bloom. The grass was a blinding emerald green. Matt told Natalie to park on the street; they waved at a lady watering her flowers next door as they got out of the car.

Matt hadn't seen his friends in several months; Laurel came to the door at his knock, and he grabbed her up in a bear hug.

“Hey, watch it, you'll squish the bambino,” Cole protested from behind her. He gently nudged his wife aside and shook hands with Matt, giving him a whack on the shoulder. “Welcome back to the Coast. Is this Natalie?”

Matt watched Cole take in Natalie's smiling face. Instinctive recognition, incipient friendship. He relaxed. Laurel ushered in the guests with her usual graciousness. The judge was, as always, glowing with natural beauty, but the bulge in the front of her maternity top gave her a sort of sleepy earthiness that rather took Matt aback. The dark red hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her strong-boned face devoid of makeup.

“Sorry for the way I look.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just woke up from a nap. The baby saps all my extra energy.” She laid a hand on her belly.

Natalie looked fascinated. “We shouldn't have barged in on you, but Matt said — ”

“Matt knows I'd take his arm off if he passed through here without stopping.” Cole grinned at his friend.

“What is that noise?” Matt looked around. “Sounds like wolves have surrounded the house.”

“Oh, that's just Colonel,” said Laurel, gesturing for everybody to sit down. “We put him outside, not knowing if Natalie's afraid of dogs, and he's mad because Charles Wallace — that's our cat, Natalie — got to stay in.”

“I love dogs!” Natalie sat beside Matt on the sofa.

He shook his head. “Colonel's not a dog, he's an animated pogo stick.”

Laurel laughed. “Come outside, Natalie, and I'll introduce you while the men catch up. We can grab a glass of iced tea on the way through the kitchen.”

Natalie bounced off the sofa. “Sounds great.”

As the women left the room, Matt stretched out his legs, while Cole propped his feet on a floral ottoman. After a few minutes discussing the Patel case and catching up on the baseball playoffs, Cole went for the jugular.

“So tell me about Natalie.”

Matt tried for nonchalant. “She's a nice kid.”

Cole snorted. “Yeah, yeah. You just spent a week on the road together. Went to jail for her. Took a senior citizen cruise with her. She's not your usual play-toy. What's the story?”

Matt crumbled. He leaned his forearms on his knees and studied his fingers. “Man, I don't know. You never know what's going to come out of her mouth. She's already said the ‘L' word.”

Cole blinked. “To you?”

“Yes, to me!” He looked at Cole from under his brows and found his friend grinning. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, no. I just figured if that ever happened, you'd be on a plane to the next state. I take it you didn't say it back.”

“Of course I didn't. She took me completely off guard. By the time I got my tongue unglued from the roof of my mouth, she was on her feet shouting at me.” Matt ran a hand around the back of his neck and shuddered. “It was awful.”

“I bet.” Cole was laughing now. “You unmitigated goober.”

“And the course of true love went so smoothly for you two. As I recall, you couldn't even get a legitimate annulment.”

“Well, it all turned out okay in the end.” Cole fingered his wedding ring. Sympathy softened his expression. “It's worth the hassle, man.”

“Is it really?” Matt ducked his head. “That's what worries me. I'm pretty happy right now. Why should I take on a complicated relationship?”

Cole shook his head. “Only you know the answer to that question. I'd say don't get married unless you can't imagine life without her. I'll be praying for you.”

“I'd appreciate it.” Matt sighed. “And while you're at it, remember the Patel thing. The thought of Natalie involved with terrorists scares the bejeebers out of me.”

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Y
asmine could have found a faster way to get to Pensacola, but a more entertaining cultural experience than traveling with Curtis and Jewel Hardy would be hard to imagine. Rural Mississippi and Alabama came alive with tales of Indian uprisings (Jewel explained that this did not mean immigrants from Bombay), battles between Damyankees and Brave Confederates, and the social habits of reclusive writers. Curtis insisted on stopping at every flea market and estate sale along every county road, in a quest for weapons and tools. Jewel was into produce and flowers.