The Convent Rose (The Roses) (12 page)

****

Eve picked out the tiny, pink shrimp dotting her salad and took a sip of hot tea. She broke up a quarter of hard-boiled egg with her fork and mashed it into the greens.

“Not hungry?” Sr. Helen inquired. “The salad looks delicious. Wish I could have coffee, but with my tremors, well, I am grateful for the iced tea. We must be thankful for what God gives us even though it might not be exactly what we think we need.”

“I had a late breakfast with Bodey Landrum, Evan Adams, and Renee Hayes.” Eve concentrated on demolishing another quarter of egg.

“More interesting than eating with two old nuns,” Sr. Inez commented.

“More awkward certainly—two men who have known me in the Biblical sense, and Renee who is trying to turn an old flame into a full-fledged forest fire.”

The two nuns exchanged glances while Eve kept her eyes on her food and felt her face redden.

“We’re not your confessors, Eve, but we take it that there has been a change in your relationship with Bodey Landrum.”

“I went to pray in the pine grove. Along came Bodey riding one of those paint horses he favors. He held out a hand, and I went with him—just like that.”

“It wasn’t a—rape?” Sr. Helen said in a whisper she could barely force past her vocal chords.

“Oh, no, entirely consensual. That’s how weak my character is.”

“A blue-eyed man on a paint horse would be hard to resist, not that you shouldn’t have tried,” Sr. Inez added. “Perhaps, it was meant to happen. Surely, Bodey will…”

“Do the right thing? Make an honest woman of me? Sisters, that went out in the Sixties.”

“Doing the right thing never goes out of style,” Sr. Helen said with an emphatic head bob.

“At least, I know I can resist Hardy Courville’s offer to—take care of me.”

“Hardy is married to one of our girls, Amanda Dwyer. She was a friend of his eldest sister and graduated about ten years before you. Amanda is lovely and gracious and very active in social causes, a perfect wife and mother. Whatever…”

“Would he want with me? Sex, of course, with someone new and different. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We are so looking forward to the art walk on Saturday.” Sr. Helen abruptly changed the subject.

Naturally, they wanted to leave the subject of extramarital sex behind. Eve gratefully dropped the topic as well. They were, as they had said, not her confessors.

“It will be my pleasure to take you. I need to get set up for the next class.”

As Eve collected their trays and turned away, both nuns crossed themselves and murmured a brief blessing in her direction.

“Nessy, the Art Walk is only five days away and will require a great deal of prayer and divine inspiration.”

“No need to tell me, Sister, no need at all.”

Chapter Seven

Bodey put his plans into action by eating late Wednesday night at the Rainbow Café and sitting at the bar until Eve got off work. The trouble being for the middle of a work week, the bar stayed awfully crowded. Hardy Courville nursed a bourbon, and Evan Adams sipped a good merlot right beside him. At the far end of the counter, a trucker drank coffee. Bodey wondered if he waited for Eve, too, since everyone else surely was. The men acknowledged each other, but didn’t talk.

“Last call, gentlemen. We be closing in fifteen minutes,” the black, tattooed bartender informed them.

The trucker slapped down two dollars, got up and left. Hardy threw back the remains of his drink and stood up. Evan, unrushed, continued to enjoy his wine. Bodey left his last glass of beer half full. After five minutes, he beckoned to the bartender.

“When do you figure Eve will be done for the night?” He tipped the man with a five.

“Let me jus’ check on that for you, sir.” The young man inquired in the kitchen. “Miss Eve went out the back do’ five minutes ago. She be home by now.”

The three men walked out on to the porch together. “Headin’ back to Lafayette…Red, Evan?” Bodey asked.

“Might as well. Looks like Eve doesn’t want company tonight.” Hardy got into his truck and called to Evan. “Better get my wife’s car home soon. She has some kind of committee meeting first thing in the morning. Going back to the ranch, Bodey?”

“Yep. After y’all.”

He followed the other men toward the highway, and once they were on the limited access road, he did a U-turn on the other side of the underpass and drove back into Rainbow. The lights burned in Eve’s house. She answered the door in her bare feet, a small glass of white wine in her hand. Her hair hung loose and finger-combed. Behind her, candles flickered in the tall blue holders he had purchased for her at the Rainbow Art Walk. The scent of honey filled the air, and that aroma took him right back to the wisteria-cloaked glade. Bodey didn’t want to pressure Eve, but he was feeling some himself below the belt.

“I was waitin’ for you. So were the others.”

“I’m not in the mood to be someone’s trophy tonight. My feet hurt, and I need to unwind.”

“I know something we could do that would get you off your feet.”

“Bodey—not in the mood. Can’t you understand that?”

“Not what I had in mind. Come outside. The bugs ain’t bad, and the night is beautiful.”

Reluctantly, she stepped into a pair of slides and came out. Bodey led her to his truck where he took a thick blanket from behind the seat and spread it out in the truck bed. He lifted Eve over the tailgate. “Lie down. Here, rest up against my shoulder and look at the stars. There’s Orion with his sword pointing right at Taurus, the bull. He’ll soon be gone below the horizon. Last chance for Orion.”

“He’s one of my favorites, too. I miss him when he’s not in the night sky. My dad used to point that constellation out to me when we went night sailing. He named his boat after me, the Princess Eve.”

“I recall that. Tough losing your father so young.”

“Something you don’t know—I broke up my parents’ marriage. I wanted to see that boat so badly after he said he’d painted my name on the bow. I was around ten at the time. Daddy always went away weekends to work on that boat. I nagged my mother to take me out to the marina. Finally, she gave in, even though she didn’t like to sail, hated being on the water, said it ruined her skin. The Princess Eve was docked in a private slip way on the end. Even before we got there, we could hear the music and the laughter. He had women on the boat, three topless women slicked up with body oil and sunbathing on the deck. Daddy was below entertaining a fourth. After that, Mother said she couldn’t pretend they had a marriage anymore. The end.”

“Kids aren’t to blame when a marriage fails, Eve. You know that.” Bodey placed a few tender kisses on her forehead, down her cheeks. “Heck, I don’t even know my real daddy’s name. At least, you knew your father loved you.”

“What does that old song say—two lost souls on the highway to hell?”

“I think that last word should be heaven,” Bodey insisted. He turned on his side and kissed her deeply, doing the tongue play for all he was worth. He stroked the breast Red had touched as if he were trying to erase Courville’s fingerprints.

Eve wanted to go with him all the way to that cocoon of pleasure they had experienced before, but she put an end to it when they paused for air.

“I can’t, Bodey. I need to go in.” She got out of the truck and paused long enough at the edge of the lattice to wish him a good night.

Good night, sure. He had a long, painful ride back to the ranch.

****

Thursday evening, Bodey didn’t bother to wait at the bar. He sat in his truck out back and called to Eve when she exited from the kitchen. Rebuffed last night, his rivals hadn’t shown up. Bodey Landrum got ready to make his move.

She came over to his window and looked up as she leaned against the door. “I don’t think this is such a good idea, Bodey, your being here again tonight.”

“Come sit with me. I just want to talk. If you feel uncomfortable, the kitchen staff is still in there cleanin’ up. You can go back inside any time you want.”

“Last night, you were a stargazer. What are you tonight—cowboy philosopher?” Eve quipped, but she walked around the truck and climbed up into the cab.

Bodey had the radio turned low, but tuned into a station that claimed to be playing music for late night lovers. Not a very romantic setting out here by the dumpster, but Eve didn’t seem inclined to invite him home or go anywhere else with him. He took a deep breath.

“I know you think we’re too different to get along, but just consider for a minute. We have lots in common. We love horses and strawberries—and art. Yes, we both love art. Hell, we even have the same favorite constellation. And if you weren’t fakin’ it, we’re sexually compatible, real compatible.”

Eve’s eyes widened under the glare of the security light shining through the windshield. “Faking it! You thought I faked it?”

“No! That came out all wrong. Some women do, but just forget I said it. What’s most important is both of us are alone in the world. We’d be great together as a couple.”

“Before you go any further, try to remember we’ve only known each other about three weeks.”

“That’s not true. We’ve known each other since we were high school age.”

“We spoke once years ago, and that didn’t go so well. You never tried to reach me again.”

“I’ll admit I got sidetracked with Renee, but you were always there in the back of my mind, waiting for the when the time came to settle down, my pure white convent rose.”

“Hardly that! You never gave me a thought until you came into the café on your birthday. Confess.”

“But I recognized you right away. Look, my folks, Big Ben and Bets, knew each other a few hours, and they went off and got married. Worked out fine for them.”

“So you’re saying I remind you of your mother.”

“No way! You’re nothing alike. Dammit, woman, you are makin’ this harder than it should be. The only thing you got in common with my mama is that I love you both.”

Now he had gone too far, too fast, but a beautiful smile blossomed on Eve’s face. He could see it clearly in the glare of that star-eating security light.

“Bodey, Bodey. What am I going to do with you?” Eve took his face in her hands and kissed him so hard he thought he’d cut his lip on a tooth.

“Well now, you could…”

“Don’t ruin this by suggesting I be your sex slave or some other nonsense.”

“Would you be my wife, Eve?” Bodey thought he could have hit her with a two by four and gotten the same stunned expression.

“I said no nonsense. Three weeks Bodey, we’ve known each other three weeks and had sex one time. You’ve led an exciting life and probably slept with a thousand women. How could you possibly want to marry a quiet, thirtyish woman like me? You’d be bored with me the first year—just like my father was with my mother.”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve slept with thousands, maybe more than a hundred—but a gentleman don’t keep count. I was just stayin’ in practice until I found the right one, and I knew who she was that first night I saw you in the restaurant.”

“Bodey Landrum, rodeo star, and me. It’s simply impossible!” Eve moved fast then, getting out of the truck, slamming the door, and taking off in her own car as if some serial rapist chased her tail.

As humiliating experiences went, this soared right up there with the time early in his career when a bull ripped his jeans clear through the bicycle pants he used to keep his goodies in place and left him standing bare butt naked in front of the crowd. The only difference was the bull had left him with his balls intact and only a gash on his buttocks. This hurt a lot more. What had he done then? Walked away with a swagger and got ready for the next event that would win him the prize.

The next event, as Bodey saw it, was the Lafayette Art Walk. He knew Eve would be in the city all day Saturday hanging the exhibit in the lobby of Courville Construction Company’s new building. Hardy and that snake, Evan, would be lurking around for sure, but he didn’t want to crowd Eve at this point. He’d let her completely alone Friday and wouldn’t set eyes on her again until he showed up for the unveiling of
Progress
.

Chapter Eight

The doors to the Courville Construction Company lobby remained locked with the refreshments and the rest of the art stowed inside. This guaranteed the crowd would stay in the small plaza for the unveiling of
Progress
, currently covered with a tarp attached to one of Hardy’s cranes. Talk about overkill, Bodey thought. They could have gotten a model in a bikini to whip off the covering at the right moment. Only Red would use a crane as tall as his new three story building to remove a tarp.

Bodey searched for Eve’s face in the group of art lovers and people who owed Hardy Courville their attention. She must be inside with all the others things Red was setting aside until he’d done his speech. The proud patron of the arts stepped up to the microphone and mumbled, “Is it on?”

Red began his spiel. “Welcome, Art Walkers. Today, we not only open the doors to the new headquarters of Courville Construction, second and third floors available for rent, but also proudly add our contribution to the cityscape. When I saw the work of Evan Adams on a business trip to San Francisco, I knew I had to bring his talent to Louisiana and show one of his marvelous installments.”

Standing to Hardy’s left the artist winced, then smiled as his patron turned toward him. Except for the festive addition of a Celtic cross worthy of the Archbishop of Dublin, Evan had dressed for the occasion in his usual crow black. Bodey felt glad he had dressed down in a new pair of his trademark jeans, a white T-shirt worn under a tan western shirt, all tucked in and belted with one of his prize buckles, and a simple necklace made of elk bone beads. He was presenting a clear choice here for Eve—a real man or some effete, self-absorbed art snob. Having left his hat at home, Bodey did feel a little naked but glad he had worn his most comfortable boots because it looked like a long evening, especially if Hardy didn’t stop shooting off his mouth fairly soon.

As the sun set, Red Courville made a grand gesture toward the sculpture and the crane operator, right on cue, tugged his big-knobbed levers and raised the tarp. Bodey scratched his head.
Progress
looked like an aluminum rocket ship, maybe a sleek, art deco sort of rocket ship, but still some kind of rocket. The audience clapped politely. Hardy pressed a button on the base. The spaceship began to move on its springy narrow mount, thrusting forward, sinking back, thrusting forward through a shining metal oval—not a rocket ship in Bodey’s mind anymore, but a giant aluminum penis heading toward a climax. Some people giggled, but most of the onlookers seemed to be hypnotized by the motion of the projectile through the ring. Their eyes widened. Their mouths fell half open.