A Second Chance

Like his father? He recalled a particular conversation between his parents, right before Pierre had left for the last time. Luc couldn’t have been more than six, but he remembered it clearly. Pierre had said pretty much the same thing Luc had just said to Zara-that he wasn’t good at sticking around, that he had to keep moving.

His mother’s most fervent wish was that Luc not turn out like Pierre. And he’d obliged her by never drinking excessively or gambling. But was he becoming his father in other ways? He couldn’t imagine abandoning his own wife and child as Pierre had done. Then again, he couldn’t imagine getting married and having a child to begin with.

Or could he? How much of that rolling-stone personality was ingrained, and how much of it was manufactured in some misguided need to have something in common with his father?

Zara didn’t much care for his reasoning. “You could stay in one place, if you really wanted to.”

If he didn’t get ridden out of town on a rail, tarred and feathered, which probably would happen if he hurt Loretta. “That’s true, Zara. We all have free will. We can decide what we want to do with our lives, where we want to live and who we want to live with. To some degree.”

“So don’t you like my mama? Wouldn’t you stay here for her?”

The child was tying him in knots. Talk about a master manipulator. How did one answer a question like that? “Zara, I think the world of you and your mother. And I also want what’s best for you. Even if I wanted to settle down in one place…it’s very complex.”

“That’s what grown-ups say when they think I can’t understand something. But if you’d just explain it, maybe I would understand.”

How could he explain it when he didn’t understand it himself? He wanted to be with Loretta, but he couldn’t offer any guarantees, and she needed guarantees. Which meant that for her own good, he needed to stay away from her.

He couldn’t tell that to a nine-year-old.

“It’s ’cause of me, right?” Zara asked in a small voice. “Guys don’t like single mothers. They don’t want kids who don’t belong to them getting in the way.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“On TV.”

“Well, it’s not true, not of me, anyway. I consider you a plus. When that lady on the veranda thought you were my daughter, I sort of liked it,” he confessed.

“Then how come-”

“Zara. You’re just going to have to trust your mother and me on this one. As smart as you are, there are things you don’t understand. I can’t marry your mom. I can’t be your dad.”

He hated himself for being so blunt. But he could see now why Loretta was worried. Zara had apparently invested quite a bit in this happily-ever-after fantasy of hers. Better to dash her hopes now than let them get more out of hand.

Zara didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. She spent a long time spreading cheese onto a cracker, covering every square millimeter of its surface in an even coating.

She was trying not to cry.

He’d never felt so powerless. Whatever pain she felt, he felt it ten times over.

“It looks like it might rain,” he said after a while. A lame attempt to change the subject.

To his surprise, it worked. Zara cast a worried look out the window. “I better start for home,” she said dully. “Mama hates it when I get caught in the rain. She thinks I’ll get sick. But if getting wet makes you sick, how come people take baths?”

He had to laugh. She was such a funny kid. “That is a very good question.”

She took her plate to the sink. “Thank you for the snack.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“I still like you.”

His heart constricted. “And I still like you. A whole lot.”

She surprised him by giving him a quick, fierce hug. Then she ran out the back door.

He stepped out onto the porch to watch as she ran down toward the area where she’d left her bike. The sky had grown very dark, and as she hopped onto the bike and started pedaling, the skies opened up. She gave a little shriek as the cold rain hit, and he motioned for her to take shelter with him.

The rain fell in sheets.

“I think you better wait this one out.”

“I can’t. It’s almost time for my fiddle lesson with Chief Boudreaux, and I can’t be late. We’re working on my song for the music festival.”

He’d have offered to throw her bike in the back of the Tahoe and run her home, but he didn’t feel right leaving when he had a house full of guests. “How about if I call your mom? She can bring your fiddle and take you to Alain’s house.” Although Luc and Loretta lived at opposite ends of Indigo, the drive was less than five minutes.

“Okay. But she hates to close the bakery on a Saturday.”

“It’ll just be for a few minutes.” And he didn’t mind having yet another excuse to call Loretta. He was a masochist.

“Indigo Bakery.” Luc barely recognized Loretta’s voice on the phone, she sounded so harried.

“Loretta?”

“Oh, Luc. I thought it was Bryan about the crayfish again. If he weren’t local, and if our kids weren’t in Girl Explorers together, I’d get my crawdads somewhere else.” She paused for breath. “Sorry. I’m a woman obsessed. Do you need to change tomorrow’s order?”

“No. I have something of yours.”

“You do?” She sounded bewildered. “What?”

“Zara. She rode her bike over, and now she’s stranded-”

“Zara’s with you?” Her voice sounded just this side of panicky.

“She’s fine.”

“I didn’t even know she was gone! My God, it’s almost two o’clock! I haven’t checked on her in hours. What kind of mother am I?”

“Loretta, take it easy. She’s fine, but it’s pouring rain and she’s worried about her fiddle lesson.”

“I’ll be right over to get her. And tell her she’s in trouble. She knows she isn’t supposed to leave the house without telling me where she’s going.” She hung up.

Well, wasn’t that warm and fuzzy. “She said you’re in trouble,” he told Zara solemnly.

“I am?” Zara looked puzzled. “’Cause I came to see you?”

“Because you didn’t tell her where you were going.”

Zara drew herself up. “Yes, I did! I told her I was going to catch crawdads.” She sighed. “Mama doesn’t remember anything. She tried to get me up for school today, and it’s Saturday.” She gnawed on her lower lip.

“Your mom has a lot on her mind right now. Speaking of forgetting things, you better get your crawdads. You left the bucket on the back porch.”

Zara gasped. “I did forget! Maybe it’s catching.” And she ran through the house like a miniature hellion. Luc ached to think about the hearts she would break.

By the time Zara returned with her bucket, Loretta’s station wagon had pulled up the drive. She must’ve broken the speed limit to get here.

She shot out of the car like a bullet.

“She looks mad,” Zara said under her breath.

She looked possessed. “Zara Castille. I’d like to be able to say I was worried sick about you, but since I didn’t know you were gone-”

“Mama,” Zara said with exaggerated patience, “I did tell you where I was going. I said I was gonna ride my bike to the bayou and catch crawdads, remember?”

Loretta opened her mouth to argue back, then clamped it shut.

“You’re right. You did tell me. I was in the middle of adding a column of numbers. Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” She leaned down to hug Zara, and Zara hugged her back. “I’m such a bad mom. I should spend more time with you.”