Sweetheart Reunion. Lenora Worth

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СКАЧАТЬ to sabotage any chance of happiness. He’d lost the love of his life on the night he’d planned to ask her to marry him.

       She’d never forgiven him.

       And she never would.

       Didn’t matter much, since he could never forgive himself either. Didn’t matter much that he’d stopped drinking for good last year, but he was too ashamed to tell her that and beg her to take him back. His Alma hadn’t gone off to find fame and fortune in some big, lonely city. She’d stayed here to help her family. But she still managed to mostly ignore him. While he came in here every day and smiled at her and tried to forget what they’d once had. Maybe that was his penance.

       For that reason, Julien had to pretend he didn’t care. Had to pretend he was so over Alma Blanchard. These past few months had been hard on his family. He was tired of pretending. But a man could hope, oui? A man could learn from his mistakes and try to piece his life back together, one day at a time. Only now, his little brother seemed to be heading down that same slippery slope. The very thing that had brought Julien’s drinking to a skidding halt has caused his brother to take it up right where Julien left off. Their papa had died. Were the LeBlanc men cursed to be self-destructive? Maybe that was why Julien had needed to see Alma’s face this morning. He needed a bit of hope.

       “Did you hear me?”

       Julien glanced over at Tebow. His friend had that look on his face again. That smug look that told Julien he couldn’t fool a man who’d known him since they’d both been in diapers.

       “Your heart is showing, mon ami,” Tebow said on a low breath. “’Cause you’re wearing it on your sleeve again.”

       “Shut up,” Julien growled, his appetite sated. “Let’s get out of here.”

       “Testy this morning,” Tebow said before lopping his worn LSU baseball cap back onto his head. “What, she put you in your place again?”

       Julien ignored his friend’s ribbing, choosing instead to focus on paying his check. And leaving a big tip. Alma worked hard, cooked the best food in the world and tried to hold her family together. He knew what she’d sacrificed to stay here in Fleur, knew all about her dreams to go to cooking school and become a chef in New Orleans. Or maybe Atlanta. Or had it been New York? Didn’t matter now.

       He knew what she’d given up all those years ago when, right after he’d broken her heart, her mama had come down with breast cancer and fought it for two years. But she’d never recovered. Healed, but not in this life.

       He knew.

       And he ached for Alma each and every day. Which was why he always started his day right here in the café.

       Just to be near her.

       He knew. But if he didn’t do something and do it soon, she’d never know that he still loved her.

      * * *

       “I’m starving.”

       Alma laughed at her older sister Callie’s antics, shaking her head as Callie fell across the counter. “Okay, I can take a hint. Let me grab us a couple of sandwiches. You want chicken salad or marinated shrimp?”

       “Chicken salad,” Callie replied, waving her hands in the air. “And some of those good sweet potato fries. Wanna eat out on the back deck?”

       Alma glanced outside. The lunch crowd had died down and the place was quiet, the dark paneled walls and cool hardwood giving it a coziness that made her want to take a long nap. But she didn’t have time to nap during the day. And she rarely slept at night.

       “I think outside. Tea or coffee?” she called to her golden-haired sister.

       “Hmm. Spiced tea. It’s getting to be that time of year, you know.”

       “Spiced tea it is,” Alma called over her shoulder. “Go find a table in the shade. I’ll bring it out.”

       Callie spun on the old black vinyl stool then stood to stretch, her worn cotton button-up shirt as deep blue as her expressive eyes. She looked so much like their mother—all gold and sunshine and fiery—but delicate. Callie had survived her own breast cancer scare only to lose her husband. The man couldn’t deal with the sickness, so he’d left. Yeah, Callie survived all right, with a broken heart.

       Alma didn’t intend to ever let that happen to her. Better to focus on work and family, especially on their daddy, Ramon. He’d taken Mama’s death hard. They all had. But Ramon Blanchard was never the same after Lila passed away. Alma and Callie kept tabs on him, and their other sister, Brenna, away in Baton Rouge, called him just about every day.

       Bringing a tray full of food with her, Alma hit her hip against the old screen door to the covered back porch of the café. The porch, decorated with old car tags and folksy plaques with Cajun sayings and normally full of customers, was mostly quiet during the afternoon hours. Only a few people were left eating a late lunch, then things would start all over again with the second shift and the supper crowd.

       “Busy day?” Alma asked after she placed their food on the table and sat down on one of the old high-backed wooden chairs.

       Callie nodded, chewing the sandwich Alma had made with fresh sourdough bread. “With this weather, everyone is ready to get back to gardening. Seems to be picking up.”

       “That’s good. It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

       Alma glanced over next door to where her sister spent most of her time. Callie’s Corner Nursery did a big business year-round. When she wasn’t busy helping customers plant their gardens or redo their landscaping for spring and summer, Callie turned to fall plants and pumpkins, then selling Christmas trees and designing beautiful natural door wreaths during the winter. Her sister worked as hard as Alma did, but they had different talents and passions. Callie was good with her hands and growing things, while Alma loved to cook and bake. Brenna was the civilized, artistic sister. And the one who’d managed to move away.

       “Talk to Papa today?” Callie asked between nibbles of sweet potato fries.

       “Early this morning, just briefly,” Alma responded. “He sounded okay. Had a group of lawyers from up in Shreveport down for some deep sea fishing. Should be back by now, though.” She glanced at her watch, wondering if Papa would come by for supper tonight.

       Callie tapped a finger on the wooden table. “He’ll be okay. He always enjoys taking the boat out.”

       “I worry about him,” Alma said. “I know you do, too.”

       Callie nabbed another fry. “Yes, but what can we do? Nothing will mend his broken heart.”

       “No, nothing.”

       Alma looked out at the bank that fell away from the steps leading down to the bayou. Large live oaks dripping with gray moss shaded the tin-roofed porch. A mockingbird chirped and fussed in one of the live oak’s branches. Out near the shallows, palmetto palms and rhododendrons languished on the black, decay-filled earth. Somewhere off in the bushes, a frog croaked a repetitive song. An old log jutting out into the water held two turtles that seemed to be enjoying the warm, filtered sun dappling the dark water.

       “What are you thinking?” Callie asked, her blue eyes as deep as the gulf СКАЧАТЬ