Sweetheart Reunion. Lenora Worth

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СКАЧАТЬ “Oui, and you spend them mostly right here.”

       “How do you know what I do?” Alma asked, her deep-blue eyes crashing like an angry ocean.

       “I see you most every day so it’s kinda hard to miss,” Julien replied, the smile gone out of his words. “I worry for you.”

       “Don’t,” she said, tossing hair away from her face. “Just get your load finished so I can get back to my customers.”

       Something inside of Julien snapped. He’d had a long, hard day, too, and too long of a time thinking about her. And he was proud of his catch. He wanted Alma to be proud of him. Or maybe he just needed Alma to see him, really see him, again. She thought he was heartless, without a soul. But she’d never know how he prayed in the long, silent nights of longing for things he might not ever have. He’d prayed all right. He had faith. He just wasn’t one to go shouting it to the world.

       “I think you should get away from this kitchen and your customers for a while.”

       “I have work to do, Julien, so stop thinking and get back to unloading.”

       “All done.” He hopped over the last two steps then said something to his brother in French. Pierre rolled his eyes but nodded then went back to the truck and cranked it.

       “Your brother is leaving you,” Alma pointed out, nodding toward the roaring pickup.

       “I told him to go on home,” Julien said, taking her by the hand. Then he turned to the window into the kitchen. “Miss Alma is taking a little break. Winnie, you can keep everyone happy for a while, can’t you?”

       Winnie grinned into the window, her brown bangs flipped over the crinkles in her eyes. “Oui! Take your time.”

       Alma pulled away. “Since when do you go ordering my staff around, Julien LeBlanc?”

       He grabbed her hand and held tight. “Since you look like you’re about to fall out. Since you need to rest but you won’t do it. Since…just now when I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

       Alma held back, glancing through the window to frown at the still grinning Winnie. “I don’t have time for your foolishness. I have people—”

       “Who can cook and clean and smile at other people while you take a walk with me along the bayou. Five minutes, Alma. That’s all I ask.”

      * * *

       Alma stared down at his hand in hers, wondering why his big, tanned fingers seemed to fit so closely to her own work-worn hands. And wondering why she just wanted to sit down and have a nice little cry. Why did she feel as if she’d missed out on something important?

       Pushing that idea aside, she tried once again to pull away. “Julien, I’m fine. I can’t go for a walk during suppertime.”

       He didn’t let go. “Yes, you can. C’mon. It’s a nice evening.”

       She couldn’t argue with that. A cool spring breeze played through the bald cypress trees lining the banks, the gray-beard moss swaying against the branches like old lace falling against leather. A flock of brown pelicans flew by, the symmetry of their wings lifted high up in the sky in perfect formation over the water. The sight was as natural to her way of life as breathing. Scenes such as this normally brought her a certain calm. But with Julien nearby, her heart spurted like a burned-out boat motor.

       Sighing, Alma followed Julien down the steps in spite of the need for self-control shouting in her head. “Five minutes, then I have to get back. I’ve got pies to bake tonight and bread to mix for the morning rush.”

       He nodded and held her hand tight to his. “I won’t take you far.”

       Oh, but he would, she knew. He could, if she let him. Julien was a ladies’ man, handsome and playful and larger than life. A man who danced with the girls at the fais-do-do. A man who charmed women with just a wink and a smile. He could take her to places she’d stopped dreaming about going. He could also break her heart again.

       But Alma had enough heartbreak already to last her a long, long time. She wouldn’t add falling for Julien LeBlanc to that list. Not a second time, anyway.

       “It is a nice night,” she said, just to test her voice to see if she could speak. The sweet scent of honeysuckle tickled her nose.

       “It is at that.”

       He glanced over at her while they strolled along the worn dirt path beside what they called Bayou Petite. It was just a small tributary shooting out of the big open canal that ran along the main road in Fleur. Big Fleur Bayou, that one was called. The town had been built around Big Fleur.

       “So you had a productive day?” she asked, simply because being silent made her think way too much about him. And wonder why today of all days, she’d let him get to her.

       Maybe because, today of all days, he’d actually made the effort.

       “We did. Crawfish season is wide open but prices might be steep. And this year’s spring shrimp season has to be better than last fall.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m ready. More than ready.”

       Alma pushed aside a low cypress branch, the greening of the tree shining in the dusk like fireflies. “It’ll soon be time for the spring festival.”

       “And the blessing of the fleets,” Julien added. “We need lots of blessings.”

       Alma stopped at an old bench. “Let’s sit.”

       Surprised colored his face. “You want to sit with me a spell, catin?”

       “I’ve been on my feet all day.” It was the best excuse she could find. She didn’t dare tell him that even while making small talk around him, she became breathless.

       He gave her a low bow and, with a flourish, wiped the wooden bench clear of fallen leaves and debris. “Your throne awaits, my queen.”

       Alma laughed at his antics, her face muscles stretching wide. Maybe she should laugh more. “You’re such a clown.”

       He sank down beside her then smiled over at her. “I made you laugh, so I don’t mind being called a couillon. And you have to know, when you laugh it sounds like a melody.”

       “You’re also full of baloney,” she retorted, touched that he liked her laugh. She had to admit, it was good to see him laughing, too. They’d both lost a parent and while her mother had been gone for years, Julien’s father had died only a few short months ago. Had that changed Julien?

       “I do put on a good show.” He went quiet and kept his eyes on her. “But then, you know that better than most.”

       She couldn’t answer that. She did know it better than most. Underneath all that jovial bluster, Julien had a heart as big as the bay. He laughed a lot, talked a lot and held a lot inside.

       “It’s been a while since we’ve just sat and visited,” he said, looking out at the dark water. “Life just keeps on going.”

       “It does. I’m always so busy with the café.”

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