it’s all too familiar. I’m going for a drive…Because I need to.”
He turned off the phone—all the way off—and headed north. Annie wanted to know where they were going but didn’t ask.
Yellow and brown leaves fell from deciduous trees. Some caught in the windshield wipers and slapped back and forth. The rising fog layer steamed as if the rain falling from misty skies were boiling. Billowing vapor rolled from the road and coiled away between trees on either side. Patchy visibility cleared for brief moments before disappearing into ghostly clouds that took the car in a suffocating embrace.
If she asked him to slow down, or even to wait for the conditions to improve, would he turn his strange hostile voice on her, and allow his face to look as it had outside Pappy’s?
Max leaned forward slightly. His damp knuckles were white, the tendons on the backs of his hands and wrists, distended.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly and glanced at her. He heard himself swallow. “Really sorry, Annie. I don’t know what got into me, bringing you with me like this. I’m not good company.” This was probably the only appealing woman he had known who didn’t feel her own power over a man. Reticence hovered behind her eyes. Yet she was lovely, her shoulder-length hair smooth and fair, her eyes remarkable for their catlike, almost amber color and her mouth soft, full and inviting. And Annie was slim with gentle curves and long legs.
But Annie Duhon, a thoughtful, gentle woman, had a tough side. She ran Pappy’s with an ease he admired and he had witnessed how she used humor to cut through difficult encounters. Max didn’t think he would enjoy being on the wrong end of Annie’s displeasure. He smiled slightly at the thought.
“Me, I kind of like wild days like this,” Annie said, feeling silly but desperate to break the tension. Each time he glanced at her she felt as if he touched her. Her breathing grew shallower, her lungs tight.
“I can tell I’m upsetting you,” he said. “I’ll go back.”
“Don’t,” she said. “You said you needed my company. I’m here for you. If you want to talk, I’m ready to listen.” She had never been able to walk away from someone in need. Sometimes that had been a mistake but it couldn’t be with Max…could it?
“Thanks,” he said and drove on more slowly.
He thumped the steering wheel and Annie jumped. Her hands trembled and she wound them tightly together. If things did get sticky, she would find a way to bail out. She’d learned the hard way about not allowing a man to trap her where she could be overpowered.
Max wasn’t the type to overpower anyone.
She touched his arm. “It’s none of my business, but you’re worried. Is somethin’ wrong with the person you interviewed yesterday? Michele?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t, and he didn’t want to talk about it—or think about it, for God’s sake.
“Okay.” She wished she hadn’t asked.
“You’re shaking,” he said. “I’ve scared you. Dammit! This isn’t like me. Those bastards are getting what they want, they’re turning me into a madman.”
“Who?” she said automatically.
“Let it go.”
If it might not turn out to be a really bad idea, she would tell him what she thought about being a captive audience for someone in a foul temper.
“Bail,” she said, not meaning to speak aloud. She cleared her throat.
A strong hand settled over both of hers. “There’s no reason for me to bail. I’m going through a rough patch is all. And I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you like bagels?” He continued to hold her hands. “Remember a little restaurant in St. Martinville called Char’s Bagels?”
“No.” She looked around. St. Martinville? The weather, the fog, had disoriented her, if it hadn’t, she’d have asked him to go somewhere other than St. Martinville—anywhere but there. The town where she’d grown up wasn’t so far from Toussaint but she’d left a long time ago and never returned since.
“You’ll love it. Every kind of bagel and every flavor whipped cream cheese you can think of. Smoked salmon. Capers. Paper-thin onions. Great coffee.”
“New York food,” she said faintly.
“People eat bagels all over,” Max said. “Could you go to Char’s with me and eat something now?”
Her life in the town was over. The people she’d known were dead or gone—most of them. Those who remained would never recognize her after so long. Almost everything about her had changed.
She definitely wanted out of this car. “Didn’t you get lunch at Pappy’s?” What did it matter? Once she was out of the car she could take charge of herself. “Well, I’ll come. Why not. I always like pickin’ up fresh ideas.” If she made a big deal out of driving somewhere else, Max could get suspicious.
“I had a good lunch.” He couldn’t read her mood. “But I can’t remember what it was, so I’ll take more time with the bagels.”
This man was in control, always. He had never blabbered about inconsequential things—like bagels. “Lead me to Char’s,” she said.
When he glanced at her again, his eyes were narrowed and she felt him assessing her, her reactions. He suspected she was humoring him. She stared back into his eyes and felt drawn to him, even as she couldn’t put fear completely aside.
In St. Martinville, folks had said she was a bad seed, that she went after the kind of excitement that could ruin her. She had heard whisperings: “Disgustin”’ “Stay away from her and make sure your George does. She’s ruined more than one decent man.” They had no proof because there was none, but they linked her to men she’d never met and she had no defense because she had made two mistakes that turned out badly enough to trash her reputation.
Max drove into St. Martinville. The rain had cleared the streets of people on foot.
“You know your way around this town,” she said and her voice felt unused. Annie kept her face straight ahead and wished she could put her hood up again and hide inside.
“Blink and you’d miss the place,” Max said. “What’s to know? It’s a pretty town, friendly.”
She shrugged. The fog over the road had dissipated as soon as they entered the town, but the rain beat down here just as heavily as it had in Toussaint.
That’s where she should be, in Toussaint, at Pappy’s doing her job. This was out of character for her and it mustn’t happen again. “Where is this Char’s?” She didn’t recall the place.
“Close to St. Martin de Tours Church. And there’s the church now.”
The white, single-story church boasted a bell tower over the front door. A few people formed a line out front to file up steps and into the building. Visitors liked to tour the building, and a wet day was a good time to be inside. When she’d been a little girl, Annie used to creep into the Perpetual Adoration Garden. She liked to sit and stare at the statue of Evangeline, the Acadian heroine. Peace waited there,
