lashed out. Then he’d thrown her to the ground and punched her-retribution for the previous fight.
But even when Loretta had told Zara she wasn’t in trouble-well, not too much-Zara hadn’t responded with anything but monosyllables, and she’d only picked at her dinner.
Something more than the fight was bothering her, but she claimed she was fine.
Loretta had thought she would have at least a few more years of peace before getting hit with attitude.
The next morning, when Zara still wasn’t back to her usual cheerful self, Loretta was ready to tear out her hair. Given that she hadn’t been sleeping well herself, she wasn’t at her most patient. She set Zara’s cereal in front of her and said, “Zara, I’m tired of this. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I fix it?”
“You can’t fix it. You won’t fix it.”
“Fix what?”
“I want to be friends with Luc again.”
There was no way around it. She was going to have to tell Zara the truth. Once her daughter realized Luc was not the saint she believed him to be, she would understand.
“I found out that Luc is a criminal.”
Zara’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean like a bank robber or something?”
“Or something.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly.”
“Then how do you know it was bad?”
“Because he’s on probation. That means he’s serving a punishment for a serious crime.”
“Maybe it wasn’t his fault or something.” Zara was grasping at straws. “Maybe someone made him do it. Maybe it was a mistake.”
Loretta put her head in her hands. She was making everything worse.
“Couldn’t you just ask him what he did?” Zara said. The suggestion sounded remarkably sensible.
“If I find out what crime he committed, and we agree it was bad, will you accept my decision that we should stay away from him?”
Zara didn’t answer for a long time, and when she finally did, she said, “He didn’t do anything that bad. I know he didn’t. He’s not like Jim.”
“Honey, you don’t even remember Jim. He could be sweet and thoughtful and charming, just like Luc. Just because a man is handsome and kind and charming on the outside doesn’t mean you know what’s on the inside.”
“
And it hadn’t escaped Loretta’s attention that Zara hadn’t agreed to steer clear of Luc if they found out that the crime he’d committed was of a serious nature.
“Hurry up and eat. We need to get going.” She was already running late with her deliveries, although now that she didn’t linger at La Petite Maison over Luc’s delicious coffee, her morning rounds didn’t take as long.
She’d just have to learn how to make her own damn coffee.
LATER THAT MORNING, when she’d returned from her deliveries, Loretta made a phone call she was dreading. But it had to be done.
“Hotel Marchand, how may I direct your call?”
“Could I speak with Melanie Marchand, please? This is Loretta Castille.”
A couple of minutes later, Melanie came on the line. “Hi, Loretta. What’s up?” She sounded warm and friendly, though surely by now she’d been brought up to date on the idiotic soap opera that was Loretta’s love life.
“I need to ask you something. Could you please tell me what Luc did to get a criminal conviction?”
Melanie paused a long time before answering. “Why don’t you ask Luc?”
“Because I want the truth.”
“He would tell you the truth, Loretta. I’m sure of that.”
“Well, I’m not sure, and I have my reasons.”
“It’s not my place to tell you,” Melanie said firmly. “But you should know this. I believe with all my heart that Luc regrets his actions.”
“All criminals are sorry-when they get caught.” She thought again of Jim, of the first time he’d been arrested for stealing a car. He’d stood up in court and claimed he’d learned his lessons. He had a baby on the way, he was worried about how he was going to take care of it. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the courtroom.
He’d gotten a slap on the wrist, and two months later he’d stolen another car.
“Talk to Luc,” Melanie said. “Find out what he has to say. Then you can judge him all you want.”
“I’ll think about it,” Loretta replied, although she knew she wouldn’t. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”
She knew she was being harsh. But she also knew what a pushover she was, how vulnerable she was to Luc’s charms. What if he convinced her that whatever he’d done was a terrible mistake, that he was now completely reformed? She would get back together with him, and then he would do something awful and she would never, ever be able to forgive herself.
She’d taken Jim back twice, believing he was sincere, until he’d held up a convenience store and shot the clerk.
If not for Zara, she wasn’t sure how she would have survived that period of her life. She wouldn’t put herself through it again.
AT THREE-TWENTY, Loretta got a call from Della Roy, the school bus driver. “Loretta, I just wanted to let you know that Zara didn’t get on the bus today.”
“What? Oh, shoot, not again.” This wasn’t the first time Zara had missed the bus. It wasn’t her day for Girl Explorers, but maybe she’d gotten involved in a game after school. “Thanks, Della, I’ll have to go track her down, I guess.” She hated to close the bakery when she had a steady stream of customers coming in, but she couldn’t let her child run wild over the countryside with no supervision.
It didn’t occur to her to be worried.
But when she arrived at the school, no one there had seen Zara or had any idea where she might be. Mrs. Brainard, who was still in her classroom straightening up, said there’d been no trouble from Zara that day, though she’d been more quiet than usual.
“Maybe she went home with a friend,” Loretta said as a small bubble of anxiety floated up from her subconscious. “Sometimes she forgets to ask permission.” Or maybe she got permission and Loretta had completely forgotten about it, like the day Zara had ridden her bike to the B and B, ostensibly to catch crawfish. She racked her brain, but couldn’t remember arranging any play dates for today.
Then a thought occurred to her. Could she have gone to the B and B to see Luc? Knowing Zara, she would ask him point-blank to give her an accounting of his criminal record. But La Petite Maison was too far to walk easily from school. She might have gotten a ride from someone, though.
The more she thought about it, the more likely that scenario was, although if the mother of one of Zara’s friends had given her a lift, surely the woman would have made Zara phone home to tell Loretta. She would have to drive over to Luc’s and check.
She got in her car and drove to the other side of town, her stomach in knots. She wouldn’t panic about Zara. Her daughter had missed the bus before and there was always a reasonable explanation, at least to Zara’s way of thinking.
When she pulled into the drive, she saw that Luc’s Tahoe was in the carport. She walked to the front door and rang the bell. Slipping in the kitchen door seemed too casual under the circumstances.
Celeste answered, her face neutral. “Loretta. What brings you here?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Zara is missing, and I wondered if she’d by chance come here after school.”
“Missing?” Celeste’s face immediately softened into an expression of concern. “
“Yes, I’ll do that.” Maybe Zara had seen Luc and wandered down to talk to him. Loretta walked briskly along the brick path toward the bayou. She would quickly check for Zara and then leave immediately.
She saw the boat before she saw Luc. The faded canopy was gone, replaced with a bright new one sporting blue and white stripes. Now that it was clean and freshly painted, the boat was quite beautiful. She found it hard to
