Sweetheart Reunion (18 page)

Julien ignored the little tremors of fear and regret inside his soul. He couldn’t shout out to her not to do this. He couldn’t tell her this might be her escape route right up Highway 1. He couldn’t hold her back.

So he smiled, pulled her close and held her there, his eyes closed to what might happen next. “That’s wonderful. That’s good. This is your big chance. And we both know you deserve this. I hope it works out for you.”

* * *

Alma stared down at the business card then looked back up at Julien, wondering about his reaction. He’d tempered things for her sake, but she could see the doubt and the regret in his dark eyes. He wouldn’t hold her back. She knew that. He’d let her go because he thought she deserved this more than he deserved her.

“It’s a great opportunity,” she said, hoping to reassure him. “And I’d be able to stay here in Fleur and oversee things. I could use the money. This town could use the money.”

“
Oui,
you do have to consider that. It’s great. It’s just that the timing is kind of lousy.”

He was one to talk about bad timing. “When is a good time, then, Julien? I’ve been right here, waiting for ten long years. I could have left but I didn’t.”

She saw the flash of anger in his eyes. “No, you didn’t. But you didn’t hang around for
me,
Alma. You stayed out of a sense of duty to your family. Did you ever think about me at all?”

“You know I did,” she said, her hand on his arm. “And now, Julien, we have a chance to make things right. We can do this.”

“Not if you settle for
me,
” he said, stepping back.

How could she tell him she wanted him, only him? Nothing else was that important. How could she make him see his worth?

“Julien…”

“We’ll talk more later.” He kissed her and touched a hand to her hair. “I have to get back to looking for my brother.”

They were right back where they’d started so many years ago, Alma thought after Julien stomped away. She was so concerned about him and his brother and how he’d handle things if she took this opportunity, she didn’t notice the gathering clouds or the raindrops on her face.

She wished they’d had time to really discuss this, but Julien was already backing away, jumping to the wrong conclusions. But if he had listened, if he’d given her a moment to breathe, she would have told him this was the best thing for both of them.

Because as she’d tried to explain, this would mean she’d be able to provide more for her family but also provide for her workers and this town, too. This would be the realization of one of her dreams, a solution, a blessing that could change her life.

And it
would
mean she could stay here with Julien.

Alma hurried down the tent alley, the rain hitting her and people rushing by her to find shelter, and accepted that Julien had won. He’d forced her to fall in love with him again.

But would he turn away and break her heart all over again, too?

Chapter Eighteen

J
ulien wanted to take back his less-than-lackluster reaction. He shouldn’t have gotten all hot and bothered by what Alma had told him. She had a talent for cooking and someone had finally noticed that. He should be happy for her. Instead, aggravated and worried over his little brother, he’d practically snapped at her to go ahead and take this as a sign to leave, finally leave, and he knew that had hurt her. Because he was so afraid he might lose her, it was like déjà vu all over again.

You never had her,
he reminded himself as the rain hit at him like slivers of glass. The wind picked up, causing several of the lightweight plastic chairs underneath the big tent to dance across the concrete. Anything that wasn’t held down became airborne in the heavy, straight-line wind. He watched as plastic bags, cups and small tree limbs flew by. People were huddled together, trying to keep dry. Cars and trucks filled with occupants as everyone waited out the storm.

But the rain kept falling.

Julien kept searching for Pierre, even when his heart was with Alma. He should go and apologize to her. Hurrying toward the cluster of booths, he glanced around. The kids were all gone, probably inside the church. Lightning flashed in a nasty zigzag across the sky. He looked for Alma, but she was nowhere in sight.

Should he go inside the church to find her? Maybe she’d gone back to the café. He needed to find Alma. He needed to find his brother. His mama expected him to take care of Pierre. She depended on him, looked to him as the head of their ragtag household.

Julien turned toward the docks and the marina. At least he could make sure his boats were safe, and maybe he’d find Pierre down there horsing around with his friends. But when he got down to the marina, his heart stopped cold.

The skiff was missing.

* * *

Alma watched from the café as sheets of hard rain marched across the main thoroughfare in perfect precision. The wind pushed at the rain, forcing it to drain into the nearby gutters and bayous. The whole town was a soaked mess, dark clouds crowding around where, minutes ago, people had been crowded. It looked like there wouldn’t be a street dance tonight.

“We’re running out of coffee,” Winnie said from the kitchen. “Want me to make another pot?”

Alma nodded, her mind on Julien. Was he out there somewhere searching for his brother? Pushing away the dark thoughts and the pain of his grudging resolve earlier, she went back to work. The café was crowded with people who’d managed to get out of the rain before the storm had set in. She’d fed most of them, kept their glasses and cups full of tea and coffee, and now she just wanted to go home, have a cup of tea and call it a day.

Mollie glanced at the front door then looked over at Alma. The girl was sullen and sad, obviously worried about Pierre. But Mollie was made of strong stuff. She went about her job and stayed to herself.

Callie came in the back door, her umbrella dripping. “Have you seen Papa, Alma?”

Alma turned, her still-wet sneakers squeaking. “Not since this morning when he helped me move chairs. I thought he was going down to the marina to hang out with the other fishermen.”

Callie’s frown created a mark between her wide eyes. “No one’s seen him for a while now. Most of them are inside out of the rain now, but Papa isn’t at any of his usual hangouts.”

“Have you called him?” Alma grabbed her phone out of her pocket. “No messages.”

Callie came to stand close. “He’s not answering his phone. I’m getting a little worried.”

Alma glanced out into the rain. “You’d think he’d come here to wait out the storm.”

She hit her father’s number and waited for him to answer. Then she shook her head. “That’s strange. It didn’t even go to voice mail. It didn’t really do anything. I didn’t hear a ring.”

Callie pushed at her wet hair. “Something isn’t right.”

Alma didn’t want to panic, but she was already worried about Julien. Now her father, too.

Then she went cold, her heart thumping. She grabbed Callie’s arm. “They were going out in the skiff. Papa and Julien.”

Callie cast a worried gaze out the window. “They wouldn’t go out in this.”

“But Julien might have gone out before the storm. We had a discussion and he walked away. I don’t know where he went. What if he took Papa out?”

Callie shook her head. “Julien would know better.”

Alma had to agree with that. Then her stomach went as cold as the rest of her. “But Pierre…he’s been missing all afternoon. Callie, what if
he
took Papa out on the skiff?”

Mollie’s head came up and she dropped the handful of utensils she’d been putting away. “I haven’t seen Pierre since we had our fight this morning.”

Both sisters grabbed raincoats and headed for the door. Alma shouted to Winnie, “We’ve got to find Papa. Hold down the fort.”

“I’ll be here,” Winnie said, worry heavy in her words. “We’ll all be praying.”

* * *

He needed to pray like he’d never prayed before.

Julien stood underneath an awning at the marina, his whole body shaking with a worrisome fear that only reminded him of the day his daddy had gone missing.

Tebow ran up to him. “Got your message. You think Pierre took the skiff?”

“I don’t know, but he’s been missing for hours. Somebody had to see him leave.”

Tebow squinted toward the black heavens. “Bad time to be out on that water, bro.”

“I know.” Julien tried Pierre’s phone again. No answer. “We have to go look for him. Can you help me round up some boats?”

“I’m on it,” Tebow said, his phone near his ear. “I’ll call my cousin Pee-Bob. He’s good at tracking people.”

Julien didn’t want to know how Pee-Bob tracked people in the rain. He just wanted to find his brother safe.

Tebow went around talking to several people who’d just arrived back at the marina.

Finally, he came back to shake his head at Julien.

“He took the skiff, Jule. And Alma’s daddy was with him.” Tebow’s solemn scowl told the tale. “The old-timers said your brother was upset. Mr. Blanchard tried to calm him down. Pierre went out onto the dock and hopped in the skiff. Mr. Blanchard got in, too. Wouldn’t bulge. They took off just before the storm hit.”

Julien’s stomach roiled and kicked. This was not good, not good at all. His brother had taken the skiff out into the storm. And Ramon Blanchard had been in the boat with him. Why would Mr. Blanchard get in a boat when he knew a storm was coming? Something wasn’t right here.

He had to go and find them. Lifting the collar on the poncho he’d grabbed from inside the marina office, he headed toward the marina manager’s boat. They’d have to alert the Coast Guard, too.

“Julien?”

He heard someone calling his name then turned to see Alma running toward him, Callie behind her. She took one look at his face and crumbled against her sister. “No. Julien, no.”

Julien rushed to her, grabbed her close. “Look, they’re both experienced boaters,
chère
. We don’t know anything yet. They’re probably high and dry. I’m going to find them. You know I’ll find them.”

Her eyes burned an angry, worried blue. “But Pierre was drinking. He could be even drunker than he was this morning.”

“I understand that,” Julien said, his prayers stuck in a revolving cycle. “We have to pray he wasn’t. We have to pray they pulled up under a tree or made it to solid ground before the storm hit.”

“Papa wanted to take that new boat out into the big water,” Callie shouted over the thunder and wind. “What if he asked Pierre to do that?”

Julien had already wondered about that based on what some of the marina workers had heard. “I don’t know. We have people who saw both of them get in the boat. I need to get out and look for them.”

“I’m going with you,” Alma said, rushing past him.

“No,
chère, non
.” He wouldn’t take that risk. “You can’t do that. You need to go back to the café. I’m gonna call some of the other fisherman and boaters. They know these waters. We’ll alert the Coast Guard, too. We’ll find them.”

She shook her head. “Julien, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? You’d tell me if anything bad had happened?”

“I’d tell you,
oui.
” He motioned to Callie. “Take her back to the café and wait there. I’ll call as soon as I hear anything.”

Callie bobbed her head. “Any distress signals?”

“Nothing yet.”

They stared each other down. Julien knew what Alma’s sister was thinking, but he couldn’t voice it. He couldn’t even think it.

“I’ll find them,” he said to Alma. “I promise.”

She twisted from her sister and ran to him. “Please, Julien. Please.” Then she gave him a look that tore at him with the same intensity as the rain hitting them.

He kissed her and turned to hurry to the boat Tebow and the marina boss had readied for him. When he turned back, Alma was standing in the rain watching him, her tears mingling with the storm’s fury.

The sight broke Julien in half.

He headed out into the dark waters and prayed he’d find his brother and her father alive and well. Because if he didn’t, they’d never recover from this. No one would recover from this.

* * *

Alma stared at the iris on the counter. It was blooming. She’d need either to plant it or store it until the fall. She wanted to plant it. She wanted it to bloom and spread and grow in her garden. She wanted summer and sunshine and laughter.

She wanted her papa.

She wanted Pierre to be okay.

She wanted Julien.

She couldn’t take her eyes away from that iris.

“C’mon, honey. Sit down.”

Alma shook her head, ignored Winnie’s hand on her arm.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. It’s been hours. Where are they, Winnie?”

“I don’t know,
chère,
” Winnie said on a whisper. “The Coast Guard is out there. Our men are out there. They’ll find them. We have to believe that.”

Outside, thunder boomed an ugly, loud answer. Lightning crashed and sizzled. The wind moaned its displeasure and its despair.

Callie walked up, her hair tugged into a lopsided coil on top of her head. “Alma, Julien’s mama is here. Her sister brought her. She…she wanted to see you.”

Alma’s throat filled with a lump of regret and longing. She whirled to see Virginia LeBlanc slowly making her way toward the long counter. “Mrs. LeBlanc…”

Virginia tugged Alma into her arms and whispered words to her, sweet words as old as time in the Cajun French they both knew so well. “We need to pray together, belle. My
bébés
are out there, my
bébés
. Your papa, he’s a strong, good man. Your Julien, he loves you so much. Did he tell you that?”

Alma had been so strong, so quiet up until that moment. But the tears began to flow and then she couldn’t stop them. She cried and cried, there on Virginia LeBlanc’s strong, motherly shoulder. She didn’t realize how long she’d held these feelings deep inside. Her tears raged like the rain that kept coming outside, her heart crashed and danced like the lightning that crackled through the trees. The grief over losing her mother mingled with the hurt and confusion of losing Julien. What if he didn’t come back to her? What if she never saw her sweet papa again? What if Mrs. Laborde lost colorful, crazy Tebow? What if Virginia lost both her sons? How could she live with that?

“I love him, too,” she finally said. “I love Julien but I didn’t tell him that. We had a misunderstanding. I should have told him.”

“It’s okay,
chère,
” Mrs. LeBlanc said on a soothing coo. “It’s all okay. He knows you love him. He knows.”

When she finally looked up, the restaurant was empty except for Callie, Winnie, Mollie, Mrs. LeBlanc’s sister and Reverend Guidry.

“Let me take y’all to Alma’s house, honey,” Callie finally said. “We’ll wait there, okay?”

Alma nodded, drained and exhausted. She might be able to make it through this long, dark night if she had her sister nearby. And Virginia LeBlanc. Mrs. LeBlanc was so strong, so forgiving. Why hadn’t Alma been the same?

Mollie walked up to Alma, her apron in her hand. “Can I come and sit with y’all, just for a little while?”

“Of course, honey.” She stood on wobbly legs and nodded. Then she turned and grabbed her iris. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Callie said, her own eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “Okay.”

The little group locked up the restaurant and moved to Alma’s house. Callie and Winnie pulled out blankets and towels to make everyone cozy. Mollie made a pot of tea. The rain kept coming, its intensity sometimes making it hard to speak. The water pounded on the tin roof and sloshed off the awnings and gutters. Great dark puddles covered the yard and the streets. The bayou crept closer and closer to the floating dock and the shallow shores.

Each time a clap of thunder hit, Alma got a horrible image of an empty skiff tossing in the deep waters just off the sound.