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Chapter 41
May 2005
Will parked the
BMW outside of the closed detached garage, and the pair walked
quietly through the dark towards the empty house.
"Are you sure
this is okay?" she asked.
"Lizzy, this
is my house. Of course, it's okay."
They moved over
to a door in the rear of Pemberley Plantation house, a covered
keypad installed shoulder-high next to it. Will punched in the
combination and unlocked the door with a key. He stepped aside
and gestured. "After you."
"Thanks. Have
me go inside a dark, scary house first. What a gentleman you
are!" But Lizzy entered the house in any case and walked
until the moonlight from the doorway did not illuminate any further.
"Stand still,"
Will advised. A second later, the ceiling light came on.
It took a moment
for Lizzy's eyes to adjust to the brightness, but when they did,
she beheld a modern island kitchen with gleaming stainless steel
appliances, stained cypress cabinets, and a black granite counter.
The floor was oak, with throw rugs under the sink and gas cook
top. On one wall was a Rodriguez Blue Dog painting.
"Oh - my -
god! Will! It's so beautiful!"
"Isn't it?"
he grinned. "It was the last renovation Dad had done to
the place. He loved to cook, as does Mrs. Reynolds, and he always
said if you spend so much time in the kitchen, why not make it
the most comfortable room in the house?"
Lizzy walked about
the room speechless. While it had state-of-the-art appliances,
the natural color of the wood gave it a warm, inviting feeling.
"This is the most perfect kitchen I've ever seen."
"Wanna see
the rest of the place?"
"If it's anything
like this, lead on!"
Lizzy was given
a tour of the Darcy manor. The front part of the house - front
hall, living room, and large dinning room - was very formal,
with Chippendale furniture and Oriental rugs. Lizzy could tell
at a glance these were no reproductions but the real things.
The pieces were large, but with the twelve-foot ceilings, they
did not overpower the rooms. The plaster walls were painted in
strong colors of blues, greens and yellows, with beautiful artwork
in gold colored frames. The woodwork was a gleaming white.
The centerpiece
of the living room was a large portrait of a beautiful blond
matron. The blue of her gown matched the deep color of her eyes.
A small smile played across the lips, as if the subject was amused
by the whole production of having her likeness captured on canvas.
She was regal, yet likeable, at the same time.
"My mother,"
Will said simply. "It was my dad's favorite painting."
Lizzy could feel
a lump in her throat as she gazed at the portrait, hearing the
emotion in Will's voice. In any other house, the huge, nearly
life-sized painting would be too much. But here, it fit. It belonged
on that wall.
But in the rear,
in the den and casual dining room, it was more relaxed. The carpets
were no longer formal; and the sofas and chairs, while still
of the highest quality, were built for comfort. The walls were
of darker hues, and while the trim remained white, the cabinets
and bookshelves were made of stained cypress, the same color
as the kitchen. It was a little masculine for Lizzy's taste,
but that was understandable, as it was for George Darcy's comfort.
A few objets d'art, a couple of throw pillows, and some
flowers in vases would soften the place, she considered.
She blinked back
tears as Will showed her the study. She felt that this room gave
her a glance into who George Darcy was, and she knew she would
have liked him very much, just as the portrait in the living
room made her long to have met Mrs. Darcy. Like the kitchen,
she felt this room was perfect just the way it was. It was supposed
to be Mr. Darcy's study, yet, to her eyes, it was William's
- from the oxblood leather chairs to the vast collection of books.
His taste - his character. Truly, she considered,
the son was much like the father.
He opened the French
doors and led her outside again. Live oaks formed the boarders
of the back yard, and a small pool was just off the brick patio.
Near the kitchen door was a covered outside cook station, with
a grill and bar with stools. Will and Lizzy chose to sit in chairs
near the study, the light from inside making tracks on the bricks.
Lizzy looked up
and could see the stars above the trees. A light, warm breeze
carried the scent of unknown flowers. Will reached out and took
one of her hands.
"Well? What
do you think?" he asked.
"Think? Will,
this is lovely! I had no idea what kind of place Pemberley was.
This is a paradise!"
"So, you like
it here."
"Of course,
I like it."
He paused, and she
could hear him take a breath. "Like it enough to live here?"
Lizzy couldn't answer
at first, the implications of his question rattling around her
mind. Surely, he's not asking… Is he? Is he asking me…to…?
"Will,"
she managed, "what do you mean?"
"I just want
you to know what you're getting yourself into."
"William, are
you asking me to…to marry you?"
The light from the
room behind lit half his face. The smile on it was very slight.
"Not yet - officially."
Confusion raked
her brain. "What? Then why are you bringing this up?"
Will laced his fingers
through hers. "Elizabeth, you have to know that I love you
more than anything else in this world. You can be assured that
I want us to be together for as long as we both shall live. I
brought you here to show you what I hope - what I pray - will
one day be your home. Our home. The place I hope we raise
our children. I want you to know that I fully intend to propose
to you. Just - not right now."
Although a proposal
was the last thing on her mind, she unconsciously blurted out,
"Why not?"
"Because I'm
selfish. I'm sorry, honey, forgive me. But after all these years,
I finally have you again, and I don't want to share you with
anybody else."
"Share me?"
"Elizabeth,
for a private guy, I'm a very public man. As my girlfriend, we
still have some privacy, but once we make this love of ours official,
once we become engaged, we'll be at the mercy of others: friends,
co-workers, investors, customers, vendors. Oh, they'll mean well.
They'll only want to share in our happiness. But the only way
they can do that is through parties, and events, and dinners,
and a dozen other public ways. Our lives will not be our own
until after the wedding ceremony."
"After? You
mean they'll take over our wedding?"
"Lizzy, I've
got a lot of acquaintances and business contacts. Let
me ask you - how many people do you see at your wedding?"
"I…I haven't
really thought about that. I guess as many as were at Jane's."
"What - maybe
a hundred?" She nodded. "Sweetie, I can't get married
without inviting at least eight hundred people."
"Eight hundred!
You've got to be kidding!"
He shook his head.
"At my level, weddings are corporate affairs. If I don't
invite my entire board, my senior staff, political contacts,
business associates, and major customers, people's feelings will
get hurt. That doesn't count your family, my family, and all
of our real friends. And what about your dad's business contacts?
The EDNO people? If we can keep the guest list under a thousand,
we'll be lucky."
"A thousand
people? My family can't afford that!"
"Oh, DGS will
pick up the tab, of course."
"Of course,"
she repeated shakily.
"Not everybody
will show, but we'll still get a boatload. And those who can't
make it will feel obligated to host a party for us. We won't
have a weekend alone for six months. I just don't want to go
through that right now."
Lizzy pulled her
hand away as the impact of his words sank in. Suddenly, Will
was kneeling at her chair.
"Lizzy, please
don't doubt my love for you, my devotion to you. We will get
married, if you'll have me, I promise. We could just elope
- run away to Las Vegas - but that wouldn't be fair to our families."
He kissed her hand. "I just want to have you to myself for
a little while before we start the insanity. But if you want
to hear the words now, then I'm willing to say them."
Lizzy's head was
still spinning. It was too much, but Will's earnest gaze centered
her. She knew she didn't want to live in a circus, and if marrying
William Darcy was going to be like that, then she certainly wasn't
ready for it now. She lifted his hand and placed a soft kiss
upon it.
"I trust in
you, William. I trust in our love. I want this special time to
be just between us, too. I can wait for the words."
He kissed her lips.
"You must know that those words are in my heart, for you
own it."
"And you own
mine." Another kiss, which grew deeper and deeper. When
they broke apart, their eyes were filled with desire. He took
her hand.
"Come. We haven't
finished the tour," he said huskily.
"Upstairs?
But…I haven't anything with me."
He grinned. "Yes,
you do. I packed a bag. It's in the trunk."
She stood open-mouthed
at him.
He shrugged. "What
can I say? I'm a Boy Scout. You know - be prepared."
She laughed. "You
devil. Lead the way, lover."
~*~*~
The morning sun
in her eyes awoke Lizzy, and she carefully stretched once she
extracted herself from Will's arms. The bed in Will's old room
was only a double, much smaller than the queen in Lizzy's apartment,
much less the king in Will's condo. Yet, it suited the couple's
purpose.
She leaned over
to watch her lover sleep. Lizzy enjoyed this moment of the mornings
she shared with Will. He looked so peaceful while he rested.
The years seemed to slide off his face, and she could see again
the handsome graduate student she had fallen in love with so
many years ago.
Last night, Will
had fulfilled her needs. Now, a different need consumed her -
a need for coffee.
She carefully slipped
out of bed, unwilling to disturb him. She went into the attached
bathroom and wrapped his large robe about her nude body. Will
may have packed a bag of clothes for them, but it was still in
the trunk of the BMW. She looked in again on Will before letting
herself quietly out of the bedroom.
Lizzy padded down
the stairs toward the kitchen. Being in Pemberley on a Sunday
morning, walking naked down the stairs wrapped in Darcy's bathrobe,
gave her a chill. She wondered if the sprits of Darcy's parents
were watching her. She was glad her path didn't take her through
the living room. Passing Mrs. Darcy's portrait wearing just Will's
robe was something she didn't want to do.
The house looked
different in the morning as the strong Louisiana sun streamed
through the windows, the gauzy sheer panels throwing off a warm
glow in the rooms. Still, it was a little other-worldly to her.
Once Lizzy reached
the kitchen, her vague feelings vanished as she enjoyed the comfort
of the room. She eyed the coffee maker, the same make and model
as in Will's condo, set by the sink. She thought for a second,
and then opened the cabinet below. Sure enough, there was a container
of ground coffee. She opened a drawer and found the filters.
She grinned. As much as Will loved to surprise her, he was so
predictable about certain things. He had set up his coffee station
in the condo exactly as it was back at Pemberley. Within minutes,
she had filled the machine with coffee and water and turned the
device on. She then continued to think over the events of the
night before.
Will as much
as proposed last night. Part of me wishes he had, but I can understand
his reasoning. Everyone would demand our attention. A secret
engagement isn't any answer. What's the use of being engaged
and not telling anybody? It wouldn't feel like a real one.
A thousand people
at a Darcy wedding. Do I want that many people? But…Will's
right. Daddy would want all his business contacts there, too.
Well, we'll worry about that when the time comes.
A chill ran through
her as she realized that the time would come - that one day she
would be Elizabeth Darcy.
As the coffee dripped,
Lizzy sat on one of the stools before the island, idly thinking
how it would be to wake up in this house every day. Surely, she
considered, the house would feel more inviting once she got used
to it. She could make this place her own. A part of her longed
to walk around, digging into every nook and cranny, discovering
all of Pemberley's delights.
Lost in her daydreaming,
she belatedly realized that the scratching noise behind her was
not the hissing of the coffee maker, but the sound of a key in
the deadbolt of the kitchen door. She whirled around just in
time to see a middle-aged African American woman in a dress and
heels enter through the now-opened door, freeze at the sight
of the woman in the kitchen, and shriek, "AHHHH!!!"
"WHO ARE YOU!?"
Lizzy screamed, as she jumped off the stool and moved so that
the island was between her and the woman.
"WHO AM I?
WHO ARE YOU?" the newcomer responded.
Holding the top
of the robe closed with one hand, Lizzy answered, "I ASKED
YOU FIRST!"
"I WORK FOR
THE PEOPLE THAT OWN THIS HOUSE! HOW DID YOU GET IN?"
"MY BOYFRIEND
LET ME IN! WILL! WILL!!"
"Your boyfriend?"
the black woman said in a lower volume. "Mr. Will? Mr. Will
is here?"
"Wait! You
said you work for him? You work for the Darcys?"
She sniffed. "I've
worked for the Darcys for twenty years, and I keep an eye on
this place. Now, what's your name?"
Before Lizzy could
answer, the thundering sound of running feet caught their attention.
A moment later, the disheveled Master of Pemberley Plantation
burst into the kitchen, wearing only his silk boxer shorts and
brandishing a golf club, ready to do battle to protect his woman.
He froze at the sight before him.
"Mrs. Reynolds!?"
he sputtered.
The two women stared
at the sight before them before dissolving into laughter. Mrs.
Reynolds leaned against the countertop, while Lizzy collapsed
over the island.
Will slowly lowered
the club. "Umm…well, I guess I ought to…"
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just get dressed
now, all right?" He backed out of the room and fled upstairs,
which triggered additional giggles from the ladies.
A moment later,
the older woman approached the younger, hand extended. "I'm
Betsy Reynolds, the housekeeper."
Lizzy shook hands.
"I'm Elizabeth Boudreaux."
"I take it
you're here with Mr. Will. I'm sorry I disturbed you, but when
I saw a strange car in the driveway, I had to check it out. I
live right next door."
"No, it's okay.
I'm just so embarrassed!"
She smiled kindly.
"Well, why don't you go up and change, and I'll fix you
a nice breakfast. Eggs and grits all right?"
Lizzy nodded and
returned upstairs. After a quick run to the car by Will to retrieve
the bag, the two of them were soon seated around the island,
enjoying scrambled eggs and stone-ground grits with their coffee.
Mrs. Reynolds declined to eat, as she had already had breakfast.
She had nothing but smiles for Lizzy. As for Will, he earned
the occasional glare.
"I was just
finishing dressing for Mass," she said, "when I looked
out my window and saw this strange car close by the garage. At
first I was going to call over, but I thought if it had turned
out to be you," she looked at Will, "I didn't want
to bother you. So, I let myself in. Scared me to death - no offense,
Miss Lizzy."
"None taken.
I was as frightened as you."
"I bought the
car a couple of weeks ago," Will admitted. "You should
have called. What if we had been thieves?"
"I had my cell
phone," she said. "If I saw any evidence of a break-in,
I would have called 9-1-1. Why didn't you just park the car in
the garage?"
"I only remembered
to bring the remote for the gate; the one for the garage is still
sitting on the kitchen counter in New Orleans."
"Well, everything
turned out all right." She turned to Lizzy. "Mr. Will
here means well, but sometimes he doesn't think things all the
way through, bless his heart. Hmm, it's time for me to go to
Mass. It was nice meeting you, Miss Lizzy."
"I look forward
to seeing you again, Mrs. Reynolds," she said as the shook
hands. The older woman turned to Will, the question on her face.
"You WILL see
her again - bank on it," Will promised with a grin.
The housekeeper's
face was spilt by her wide smile. "Well, that is good news!
Y'all take care, now! Just leave the plates. I'll see to them
later."
With that, she let
herself out of the house. As soon as the door closed, Will picked
up the plates and carried them to the dishwasher.
At Lizzy's amused
smile, he said, "It's a game we play. She tells me NOT to
do something, and I do it anyway. Will you hand me the pans from
the stove?"
As she did so, Lizzy
stated, "Will, I'd like to go to Mass this morning."
He glanced at his
watch. "Well, we got about thirty minutes. We can make it
if one of us finishes up here while the other packs the bag."
Lizzy pushed him
away. "I've got this covered. Go get our stuff."
"On my way."
~*~*~
Two hours later,
Will's BMW was motoring down the I-10 towards the Spillway and
Kenner.
"Honey,"
Will suddenly said, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"That's an
awfully quiet nothing. What's troubling you?"
"This morning."
"Ohhh."
He was silent.
"I'm sorry
- I shouldn't have brought it up. It's just I'm mortified about
how Mrs. Reynolds found me. Don't get me wrong, I like her. But
I can tell she wasn't comfortable with…us."
Will groaned. "I
know. She's known me since I was nine years old. She's very traditional.
As far as she's concerned, we've jumped the gun. She helped raise
me after Mom died. She's like a second mother to Gina."
"That's another
thing. About Gina. You said she's coming home this week?"
"Yeah."
"How do we
handle that?"
Will glanced at
her, taking in what was unsaid. He let out a breath. "You're
right. Gina's coming home, and we're setting a bad example. So…"
his voice trailed off.
"So…what?"
she asked.
"So…do
you want us to stop sleeping together for the time being?"
"Well, definitely
no more of that at the condo. And no more over-nighters at my
place, either."
Will grunted. "I
feel like a parent already."
"Will, you
are a parent."
"Yeah."
He sighed. "All right, we'll be good, for the duration."
Lizzy bowed her
head. "Don't think this is going to be easy for me. I've
gotten used to you."
"Oh, you have?"
"Yes, I have.
It's hard for me to sleep now, without your big, noisy self parked
right next door."
"Good,"
he chuckled. "Might be best in the long run. Probably will
make this 'courtship' a lot shorter!"
She smirked at him.
"So, what are you saying? You'll miss me? Am I that irresistible?"
"Yes, you are.
Now, stop that!"
"Yes, sir,"
She smiled.
"So, where
do you want to eat?"
"How about
stopping at Popeyes?"
"Sounds good."
"So, what do
you like - breasts or thighs?"
"Lizzy! Cut
it out!"
She laughed all
the way into Kenner.
~*~*~
June 2005
The 2005 Hurricane
Season started with Tropical Storm Arlene, which developed June
8 off the coast of Honduras and ran northwards right by the tip
of Cuba into the Gulf of Mexico. It made landfall late on June
11 right where Ivan had hit the year before. With maximum winds
of around fifty miles per hour, it wasn't worse than most thunderstorms.
However, it was a pain to those who still had blue tarps on their
roofs where shingles should have been.
~*~*~
It was nighttime,
and G-Daddy was out cruising, looking to sell his rocks. Since
fleeing to the Ninth Ward, Wickham found it impossible to reestablish
his Uptown territory. The other gangs had closed the door. So
he was left pushing crack in nickel and dime bags in Gentilly,
and he was barely getting by.
Wickham parked his
car along a shadowy street, keeping a sharp lookout for both
customers and police. Every now and then, Wickham fingered his
trusty Glock, secured under the car seat. He rubbed his nose.
God, could he use a hit of powder right now! But blow was for
after work, as Wickham needed all his senses fully functioning.
Wickham was just
finishing his latest transaction with a gap-toothed, bling-covered,
crack-headed white kid when he noticed a van with its lights
off slowing down right in front of him. Alarm bells went off
and Wickham ducked just as the side door of the van slid open
and a pair of guns started blazing. Amazingly, the gang-bangers
caused only minimum damage to his dear black Camero, several
rounds going right through the open side windows, while three
other bullets slammed into the rear panel. The crack-head customer
shouted a curse and sprinted away.
The van gunned the
engine and pulled away. But Wickham wasn't sure that they wouldn't
circle back to inspect the carnage. He threw the black two-door
into gear and burned rubber in the opposite direction. A glance
in the rear-view mirror showed the van hitting the brakes and
turning around to pursue.
Wickham made for
the I-610, hitting the on-ramp at eighty. The van must have been
modified, because it was right behind him and gaining. The two
dashed westward on the interstate highway at almost one hundred
miles per hour, Wickham swerving as he could see one gang member
leaning out of the van, trying to get a bead on him.
Out of the corner
of his eye, Wickham saw he was gaining fast on a slow-moving
tractor-trailer truck. Desperately he tried to avoid the obstacle
and just missed kissing the truck's rear bumper. The van wasn't
so lucky, and the impact flipped the vehicle on its side, right
on top of the passenger. The eighteen-wheeler hit the brakes,
its tires smoking.
Wickham didn't wait
around to gloat and dashed towards the I-10 interchange. He only
slowed down to a reasonable seventy-five once he got past the
railroad underpass. Ten minutes later, he was taking the Elysian
Fields Avenue exit and made his way to his hidey-hole.
G-Daddy's current
crib was a raised bungalow on a quiet lane. He triggered the
electric garage door and drove directly off the street. He made
sure the door closed before getting out of the Camero. Only then
did Wickham allow himself to react to what almost happened. He
was breathing hard, and his legs were unsteady. He thought he
might get sick. Collecting his Glock, money, and product, Wickham
made his way shakily up the stairs into the main floor. He tossed
the items onto the coffee table and collapsed on the couch.
Opening a fridge
that contained a coupe of soft drinks, some half-eaten pizza,
and a case of beer, Wickham grabbed a brew and returned to the
sofa. Beside the five-piece dining set, it was the only place
to sit in the house. His bed was in the master bedroom, and the
equipment to make meth was in the spare bedroom. Wickham drank
his beer, but it didn't help. He was still too agitated from
the encounter. He needed to take the edge off. He needed some
blow.
His mind made up,
he jumped up from the sofa and crossed over to a locked closet.
Undoing the deadbolt, he opened the door and removed a black
case. He moved to the dining table, and after sitting down, opened
the case. From it he extracted a mirror, a razor blade, and a
small glass vial, filled with a white powder. He poured a small
amount onto the surface of the mirror lying on the table, and
then he ran the razor expertly through the cocaine. Once he had
the drug cut and shaped into a proper line, he pulled his key
chain from his pocket. Attached to it was a small tube, which
he used to snort the cocaine.
Wickham held his
head back, allowing the last grams of the drug to seep into his
nasal passages. He quickly returned the paraphernalia to the
case and closed the box. He then stumbled over to the couch and
threw himself down upon it, allowing the euphoria to kick in.
For the next twenty
minutes, Greg Wickham was the King of New Orleans.
~*~*~
Captain Fitzwilliam
heard about the incident on the 610 as soon as he got to work.
Apparently, there was a running gun battle late last night, ending
with a fatal collision with a semi. One person dead, one injured.
The driver of the truck, who wasn't hurt, claimed he saw a third
man, African American like the other two, climb out of the overturned
van and escape down an exit ramp. An all points bulletin was
out for a black two-door that was seen fleeing the area at a
high rate of speed. Unfortunately, the make and model of the
car was undetermined, as was the description of the driver.
Fitz suspected they
were drug dealers fighting over turf. There had been a rash of
incidents like this over the last six months, but this was the
first fatality. The only way to get control over it was to increase
patrols on the interstate. Unlike the rest of the region, the
interstates in Orleans Parish were policed by the NOPD rather
than the State Police. This arrangement made the politicians
in the Criminal and Civil Court happy, as the city would keep
all the traffic fines and court costs. But it put a great strain
upon the police force.
Fitz was in a tough
spot. To beef up patrols on the 610, which cut right across the
3rd District, he would have to pull people off other areas. There
were only so many officers to go around. The NOPD was undermanned;
Fitz knew that the 3rd could use at least three dozen more people.
Of course, it
would be easier to recruit them if the city would drop the residency
rule, he thought. Forcing
NOPD officers to live in the city might sound like a good idea,
but in reality, it was a disaster. Police officers like sending
their kids to good schools as well as anybody else.
It was no secret
that the New Orleans Public Schools were the worst in the state.
It wasn't lack of money; the New Orleans School Board spent more
per student than any other district in Louisiana. However, excluding
the magnet schools like Ben Franklin, the facilities were nearly
Third World. The waste was horrendous. There was very little
discipline in the hallways - it was a controlled riot. And unlike
Fitz's day, when the children of police officers were virtually
untouchable in school, today's cop kids had targets on them.
Many tried to send
their children to parochial schools. Scholarships and aid were
available. Fitz and Olivia were embarrassed to admit that his
parents were helping to send their daughter to Catholic school.
This wouldn't be necessary if cops could live in St. Bernard,
Plaquemines, or St. Charles. Jefferson schools were nothing to
write home about, but at least the kids wouldn't be beat up.
And St. Tammany's were the best in the state.
Fitz needed more
people. The police chief was trying, but the mayor took a hands-off
position on the issue, and the City Council refused to reconsider
it.
Sighing, Fitz pulled
out the duty roster and began making the changes he would propose
to the precinct captain.
~*~*~
The bonding rituals
of men are fairly obvious. They generally include some sort of
physical exertion, humor, or lack of comfort. Alcohol is usually
involved. As the Southern comic, Jeff Foxworthy, once put it,
men "want to have a beer and want to see something naked."
Women shake their heads at the antics, as it appears to their
eyes that their men had regressed to their boyhoods. And they
would not be far wrong.
For women, the ritual
is more subtle. Shared experiences and shared thoughts are essential.
And there is something buried deep in the DNA. As men are hunters
by nature, women are gatherers. Modern American society has evolved
to pander to a woman's need to gather. It's called a shopping
mall.
Thus, a couple of
weeks after Gina Darcy's return from college in Alabama for the
summer, there was no question that she would try to become more
closely acquainted with her brother's girlfriend over an afternoon
of power shopping at Metairie's Lakeside Shopping Center, the
region's most popular mall.
After hitting Mignon
Faget, Enzo Angiolini, Disney Store, Nine West, Coach, Victoria's
Secret, and bebe - just for laughs - Gina and Lizzy took a break
at the Lakeside Café du Monde.
When most people
think of New Orleans coffee, especially the dark, sweetly-bitter,
and rich coffee-and-chicory, they think of the famous Café
du Monde, a rightly glorified coffee and doughnut stand at the
foot of Jackson Square in the heart of the French Quarter. It
was almost a requirement for tourists that visit New Orleans
to wait in line for the opportunity to drink a streaming cup
of cafe au lait and wolf down a beignet, a square French
doughnut covered in powdered sugar, in a large, covered sidewalk
café, served by Vietnamese waiters. And it should be.
There was nothing more that was New Orleans than sitting with
that special person at a table at Café du Monde late at
night, having your coffee and beignets, while the lonely sound
of a jazz saxophone drifted over the Square like fog over the
river.
But the popularity
of the place, along with the competition offered by a certain
Northwest coffee franchise that shall remain nameless, convinced
the owners to expand the number of locations. The experiment
of opening a Café du Monde in Lakeside proved the idea
was a good one, and the company established five more locations
in the region.
Gina and Lizzy relaxed
as their coffee and beignets arrived. There was only one way
to order coffee at Café du Monde: cafe au lait
- half chicory coffee cut with an equal amount of steaming milk.
The coffee without the milk is undrinkable. The beignets were
served with powdered sugar covering them, three to an order.
The girls grinned as they bit into the fried pastries, as there
is a technique to eat the thing without choking on the sugar.
Lifelong residents of the area, the two women were experts on
eating beignets and enjoyed their treats without incident.
"I'm glad we
could do this," offered Gina as she set down her coffee.
"I've been dying to get to know you since the ball."
Lizzy smiled, but
she was still a little anxious over the outing. She had no idea
if Gina knew what had happened at Tulane.
"Forgive me,
I don't wanna embarrass you, but I have to tell you that I've
never seen Will so happy. I think you've been really good for
him."
Lizzy laughed nervously.
"Well, Gina, I'm afraid you have succeeded in embarrassing
me, but thank you. Your brother is a special person to me. I
think you're giving me more credit than I deserve."
"I don't think
so. He's been so…not Will since Daddy died. You've
brought him back to life." She reached out her hand to take
hers. "That means everything to me."
Lizzy blushed. "He's
told me how close you two are."
"Well, all
I've been hearing about for the last three months is 'Lizzy this'
and 'Lizzy that.'"
"You're kidding."
"Nope,"
she laughed. "Will's got it bad!" At Lizzy's intensified
blush, she added, "I feel I can tell you this because I've
seen you with him. You feel the same way, I can tell. You're
so good together. I'm so happy Will found someone as nice and
good as you are."
Lizzy looked away,
feeling unworthy of the girl's praise. She deserved to know the
truth. "Uhh…Gina, you know I knew Will back in college…"
"I know. Oh!
You mean the newspaper thing."
Lizzy's mouth dropped
open. "You know about that?"
"I remember
reading the article and the brouhaha that followed. I have to
admit I didn't like you too much, then. But Daddy showed me the
retraction when it came out. He didn't say much, except for telling
me that when somebody does something wrong, they shouldn't cover
it up. Make it right and take the consequences."
"Your father
forgave me." It was not a question.
"That's the
way he was. Tough as nails, but always willing to give somebody
a second chance."
Lizzy wiped away
a tear in her eye. "I wish I'd gotten to know him."
"But you do.
Will's so much like him in so many ways."
"And you forgave
me without even knowing me."
"Well, it wasn't
that soon." She grimaced. "But later, I learned that
I can screw up, too. It taught me a hard lesson." She stopped,
and Lizzy could tell she was thinking. "Lizzy, since I know
about that article, you ought to know what I did. That's only
fair."
"Gina, you
don't have to…"
"But I want
to tell you. It was while I was in high school, my senior year,
in fact. Will was finishing up his stint in the London office,
so I was living with a companion, Mrs. Annesley, in the condo.
I thought I was like so grown up and didn't need to listen to
anybody. I met this guy at a football game, an older guy, and
he was telling me like how beautiful and sophisticated I was.
Really feeding me a line, you know? I was SO stupid. I thought
I was a woman instead of a foolish little schoolgirl. He started
hanging around, showing up when I got out of school. We fooled
around a little, but nothing serious. Don't know how long it
would have stayed that way, though, 'cause he started getting
a bit forceful, you know what I mean? Lucky for me, Will came
home from England a few weeks early and surprised me at school.
The guy - Greg was his name - beat it outta there.
"That night,
my cousin, Richard in the police department, came over to the
condo, and he and Will told me everything about Greg. Turns out
he was like this real bad man who had threatened Will before."
She sighed. "Will was so worried and so hurt. He had to
get a bodyguard for me and everything. I felt so bad about letting
Will down. He tried to tell me that it wasn't my fault - that
it was Greg's - but I still took it out on myself. That's when
he showed me your letter."
Lizzy's hands went
involuntarily to her mouth. "Oh my god. He showed you that?"
Gina grew alarmed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be upset."
"No! Gina,
I'm not upset. I'm just very surprised that Will would do that."
"He wanted
to prove to me what kind of guy Greg really was - how he deceives
and hurts people." She looked Lizzy in the eye. "That
was the day I forgave you. We were both Greg's victims."
Lizzy was slightly
stunned. She knew Will had read the letter and had forgiven her,
but she wasn't sure when. This put a date on it. Some time
before Gina got involved with Wickham. Over three years ago?
That long. God, have we wasted time.
Gina continued.
"I think I even started liking you, then. I certainly admired
how you took responsibility for your mistakes. It taught me a
lot. Besides, who am I to cast aspersions on anybody when I was
almost as bad?"
Lizzy looked intently
at the young woman who would probably be her sister-in-law. This
was no time for secrets. "Gina, I have to tell you a couple
of things, and I hope I don't upset you. Will told me a little
about what happened…about Wickham."
Gina gasped.
Lizzy spoke quickly.
"The reason he told me is that my family's another victim
of Wickham's, only worse. My little sister, Lydia, ran off with
him last year."
"Oh my god."
"She left him,
thankfully, but she vanished after that. We don't know where
she is now."
"Do you think
something happened to her?"
"We hope not.
The last time she called, she said she couldn't come home again.
She felt she didn't deserve to. We're afraid she's left the state."
She looked at her companion. "I told you this because I
don't want you ever to feel in any way responsible for what Greg
Wickham tried to do. The man is a menace, and we're well rid
of him."
"Yes. Cousin
Richard is looking for him, and I wouldn't want to be in his
shoes when he finally catches up with him."
"From what
Will's told me of Richard, I can believe that." She took
a breath. "Gina, both you and I have made mistakes, but
we've both made amends. The past is the past. It does us no good
to dwell upon it."
Gina grinned. "How
about dwelling on shoes?"
Lizzy laughed. "All
right, now you're talking! Dillard's awaits - let's go!"
~*~*~
In the evening,
the ladies, well provisioned to meet the fashion requirements
of another season, returned to the Warehouse District condo,
finding Will well into preparing a dinner of grilled streaks,
asparagus and baked potatoes. Within a half-hour, the three were
enjoying the meal with a sassy little Shiraz Will had found at
Martin Wine Cellar. The ladies volunteered to clear the table
as Will set up the DVD selection of the night, Bridget Jones'
Diary.
It was not the first
time they had seen the comedy, and after Bridget's adventure
on the fire pole, Gina excused herself to retire to her bedroom
and chat online. Will and Lizzy got comfortable, Will lying on
his back with Lizzy draped over him. It was a mistake, as it
turned out. Both were committed to their decision to remain chaste
in the condo for the duration, but Lizzy's lush form was having
the expected effect on Will's body. That she was nibbling on
his ear didn't help matters.
"Lizzy…stop
that…" Will moaned.
"What if I
don't want to?" she whispered suggestively. The fine dinner
of protein and wine, on top of the emotional conversation with
Gina, was breaking down her resolve. She was feeling a need that
only her sweet William could fill. She extended her tongue to
lightly lick his neck.
That did it. She
soon found herself beneath her lover as he amorously assaulted
her lips, his arms holding her tight. She arched into him, feeling
the strength of his desire, the blood rushing through her, when
he broke away slightly.
"William…?"
He was panting.
"Damn, Lizzy, you make it hard to keep a promise,"
he said. "But, promise you I did, so we're gonna behave
ourselves."
As the haze of passion
began to fade, Lizzy was torn between thankfulness for Will's
iron-hard control and regret that her gnawing need was unfulfilled.
Her better side won out, and she rewarded her man with a light
kiss. "Thank goodness one of us can keep us in line. I don't
want to shock Gina."
He grinned. "That
makes two of us. Don't worry - it won't be forever."
His comment brought
to her mind the strange impasse their relationship had come to.
Stronger than dating, yet not quite engaged. She understood his
reasoning, but she didn't have to like it.
"C'mon, upsy-daisy."
He pulled her into a sitting position beside him.
"I was comfortable,"
she grumbled.
"Maybe, but
too damn temping," he said before lightly blowing in her
ear.
"Will! You
KNOW what that does to me!"
"So, we're
even," he laughed, "But I promise you one day that
we will enjoy this couch thoroughly."
"I'm going
to hold you to that, mister."
His eyes were very
dark. "And you know I keep my promises."
Lizzy thought she
could not love him more than she did, yet every time he did that
- proving his character and his devotion - her love for him grew
stronger. How is that possible? And yet, I can't help it.
"Yes, Will, I know you do."
The pair settled
down to watch the rest of the movie. By the time the final credits
rolled, Elizabeth was sound asleep, leaning on Will's arm. He
didn't have the heart to wake her up so that she could leave,
so he carefully picked her up in his arms and gently carried
her into his bedroom. She had already kicked off her shoes in
the den, so he placed her onto his bed and pulled the comforter
over her. He retrieved his favorite pillow and returned to the
den to sack out on the couch.
Will slept peacefully,
knowing he had provided for and protected those he loved for
another day.
~*~*~
Gina was the first
to awaken, and she was half-way into the den before she realized
that her brother was sleeping on the couch - again. She smiled
to herself, knowing that Elizabeth had to be in Will's bedroom,
just like last week.
She padded to the
kitchen to fire up the coffeemaker, an event that was sure to
awaken the other inhabitants of the condo.
~*~*~
The United States
is a lucky accident because of a huge body of water to its south.
The Gulf of Mexico juts in westward from the Atlantic Ocean and
Caribbean Sea. The enormous, warm, relatively shallow sea is
the reason America is the bread basket of the world. Weather
systems moving in from the Pacific lose their rain climbing over
the mountains of the west. They recharge themselves by drawing
the moisture from the Gulf and depositing the resulting rain
onto the vast, rolling land of the Great Plains and Midwest,
nourishing the wheat, corn, soybeans, and other grains necessary
to feed the planet. Without the Gulf of Mexico, the central part
of America would be a dry wasteland.
There is a cost
to this bounty. The same characteristics that make the Gulf so
valuable to America's Heartland make it ideal for the development
and substantiation of tropical weather systems. Also, this is
the area where the air currents switch from west-to-east to east-to-west.
It pulls these systems into the coastal areas. This is why the
Caribbean Islands, Mexico, and the United States are struck by
more tropical storms than anywhere else. If one lives in Florida,
Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, or the Carolinas,
it is not a matter of if you're going to be hit by a hurricane,
but when. Some sort of storm will hit you every three
years, or so.
Fortunately, the
vast majority of these storms are relatively benign. But sometimes,
when conditions are ripe, monsters are born.
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