Bayou Judgment (9 page)

A
smile tickled Felicia's lips when she passed through the curtain of metallic gold and purple and entered the center. Signs decorated the door, announcing the upcoming Mardi Gras Masquerade Ball. A Lagniappe tradition.

She stowed her belongings and slid into her station. Tonight would be a good night. She'd help people, pray with and for them and her spirit would be one of tranquility.

“You look happy.”

Felicia twisted to find Spence hovering behind her chair. Her heart did a funny flip, but she sternly ordered it to stay still. She would respect his wishes to just be friends. After all, wasn't that better than nothing? Now that she had no more smoldering ties to the past, she'd allow herself to live fully again.

Even if it wasn't with the man who'd already slipped under her exterior.

Regret pushed away, Felicia smiled. “I am.”

He brushed at his jeans. “Uh, the city events planner came by today and posted the signs for the ball.”

“I noticed. Looks like it's going to be another fun time this year. Luc's band will play.” And maybe Sadie would show up. Felicia could possibly strike up a conversation, see where it led. There had to be some reason Sadie had shown up at the apartment, and Felicia was determined to find out what that reason was. Sure, the sheriff said Sadie had an alibi, but the question still burning in Felicia's mind was why Sadie had shown up, yelling, in the first place.

“Yeah, that's what the planner said. She's encouraging everybody to attend.”

“You've gone in years past. Aren't you planning on going this year?” She certainly wouldn't miss the ball. It was
the
event of the year in south Louisiana. Of course, Frank had been her escort last year. She suppressed the thought. No more sadness hiding in the dark recesses of her heart. God would grant her contentment if she focused on Him.

“I'd like to.”

She quirked a single brow. “But?”

“I don't want to go alone.”

“Don't be silly. There'll be tons of people you know. I bet your entire congregation will attend.”

“Exactly.” His brow creased.

What was going on with him? He acted odd, very odd. Maybe because of the tension between them? She should pull up her big-girl pants and bite the bullet. Let him know it was okay for him to not want to pursue a relationship with her.

“Spence, I don—”

“Felicia, will you go to the ball with me?”

Her unspoken words turned foreign on her tongue. Her jaw dropped. Mercy, had he just asked her to be his date? Hope fluttered in her chest.

Uncertainty danced in his beautiful eyes. “I know I've been giving you mixed signals. I'm sorry. I spent a lot of time in prayer last night and today and I'd rea—”

“Yes.” Her heart hammered her ribs. So the Holy Spirit had grappled with Spence too. How ironic. No, how God.

He blinked. “What?”

“Yes, I'll go to the ball with you.”

“I'm glad.” His smile brightened the entire center.

“Felicia, there's something I need to te—”

Sheriff Theriot's grand entrance interrupted Spence. The creaking of his service belt marked the lawman's quick stride, and his eyes were narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses. Something had clearly unsettled the man. “Pastor Bertrand, I need to have a word with you.”

“Is there a problem, Sheriff?”

Felicia stood, putting every inch into her height. Had they found Jolie's killer? Had they found a link to the center and come to close it down?

“Why didn't you tell us about your past?” The sheriff rested his hands on his holsters.

Spence's Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes darted about the center. Every operator bolted into some activity, as if they weren't listening. For once, the phones sat silent.

“Why didn't you tell me you'd been in prison for assault?”

Spencer kept his gaze on Felicia's face, which had turned a most interesting shade of ashen. Her eyes widened and a range of raw emotion shimmered in their Caribbean-blue depths.

Pain. Disappointment. Betrayal.

Spencer's heart plummeted. His worst fear had been realized.

“Pastor?” The sheriff drummed his fingers against his leather holster.

“Why don't we go into my office?”

“Wh-why, indeed?” Felicia stammered. Big tears found their way down her cheeks. “Don't let me stop you.” She snatched up her cane, drew her purse strap over her shoulder and slammed the chair under the desk. “I believe I'm taking the night off,
Pastor.
”

“Felicia, wait.” He grabbed a gentle hold on her arm.

She jerked herself free of his grasp, piercing him with a glare of pure ice. “Don't. Just don't.” Pain shot through his veins from her cold response. “I think you have an important conversation waiting on you.”

Without another word, she stalked to the door.

Look back, please look back.

But she didn't. Not even a glance over her shoulder as she stormed from the center.

A good amount of self-loathing joined the dose Felicia had already given him. He ached to run after her.

“Pastor?”

Alas, he'd have to find her later and try to defend his past. For now, he'd have to explain to the sheriff. Then the operators. And he'd have to call the church elders and tell them. More than likely, his congregation would call for his replacement.

He could almost hear the rumble as his carefully constructed life crashed down on his shoulders.

He was helpless to stop the destruction.

What a
cooyon
she was!

How could he? Encouraging her to forgive the person who murdered Frank, to give men in prison the benefit of the doubt—yeah, she understood perfectly now. Setting her up.

Fat tears marred Felicia's vision as she punched in the speed-dial number for her driver. Just when she'd made strides to reconsider her animosity toward criminals, now she found out the one man who'd hit her soft part was one. And for a violent crime, too!

She leaned against the rough exterior of the center. The Mardi Gras decorations fluttered in the late February breeze. The moon danced across the sky, as if it hadn't a care in the world.

Lucky moon.

After snapping out her request to the driver and closing the phone, Felicia glowered at the announcement of the ball mocking her from the adjacent storefront. With a renewed resentment, she marched across the walkway and snatched the notice from the window, crumbling the paper into a tight wad.

How did a preacher go to prison? Especially for assault. The mere concept boggled her mind.

The wind, swirling like black ink in murky water, lifted the hair from her nape. She shivered.

Forgive and act; deal with each man according to all he does, since you know his heart (for you alone know the hearts of all men).

Where'd that Scripture come from? Felicia rested her head against the wall. What did it mean? Was the Holy Spirit leading her somewhere?

The driver pulled to the curb, jumped out and held open the back door. “Everything okay, Ms. Felicia?”

No, nothing was okay, and she didn't know if it'd ever be okay again. This was all too much to take. She needed inner peace, spiritual peace. Slipping into the leather seat, she stared at her driver. “Can you take me to church?”

“Lagniappe Community?”

Her church, the one she and Luc had attended with Grandfather for as long as she could remember. But today, her spirit yearned for something different, a change. She shook her head. “No, I'd like to go to Vermilion Parish Fellowship.”

Spence's church. How fitting.

The driver flashed her a confused look before shutting the door, but didn't argue. Felicia leaned back against the cool leather. This could be a trip in vain. If Spence was at the center, chances were there was no one at the church. Being so small, it might even be locked up. Still, something inside led her to Spence's church.

Her cell phone chirped. She glanced at the caller ID. Luc. Great. Just what she didn't need right now. She pressed the button to send the call directly to voice mail and glanced out the window.

Even though the grounds were outside the city limits of Lagniappe, the drive to the small community church took less than twenty minutes. But as her anger started to dim, twenty minutes was time enough for Felicia to struggle with the concept of having judged Spence. Without facts, without explanation.

Nestled in the bayou with cypress trees coated in Spanish moss providing a natural archway, the building had seen its share of elements. Paint cracked and peeled. The concrete steps were weathered and split. The planks creaked as Felicia made her way to the entrance, and a lone glass pane adorned the unlocked white door.

Wind shoved against her as Felicia yanked on the door, and dry leaves followed her inside to dance over the trodden wood floor of the foyer.

She hesitated, her heart pounding, and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. A long red carpet led the way to the front, splitting the rows of pews in half. The altar held four lit candles. Flames flickered in the breeze. Felicia eased to the front row and took a seat.

Wind howled outside, causing the stained-glass windows to tremble. Felicia wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked. Had she become so cynical, so judgmental that she was as harsh as a cold winter wind? Without attention to her legs, she knelt at the altar.

Time stood still as she conversed with God. Leaning on Him, listening to Him minister to her heart.

The back door to the church opened with a crash.

Felicia started and tried to jump to her feet. Her leg muscles locked and she swayed.

Spence was there in an instant, steadying her. “Whoa. Let's get you sitting down.” He led her to the pew and sat beside her.

“How'd you know where I was?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I called Luc.”

“But I didn't answer his call.”

“Yeah, and he wasn't too happy about that. There's still a killer out there, and you should be more careful.” He slipped a lock of her hair behind her ear.

The gesture felt intimate, and heat fanned her face. Better to steer clear of these emotions. At least while she still couldn't discern what she felt. She leaned away from him. “So, how'd he know I was here?”

“When you didn't answer, he got worried and called your driver.”

She was surrounded by meddling men. “I'm going to hire my own driver, a person whom Luc doesn't keep on the payroll,” she mumbled.

“Don't be too hard on either of them. They're just concerned for you. We all are.”

Really? Hmm. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm quite capable of handling myself, yes?”

“I know that. But you aren't my baby sister, either.”

She sat silent for a moment, digesting the emotion in his tone. And waited.

Spence gave a huffy sigh and leaned back against the pew. “You know, I've never sat here and stared at the altar. Interesting view, isn't it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” While she'd be willing to listen, she wouldn't make his sharing any easier, either. He had, after all, kept this vital piece of his past from her, even though he'd known how she struggled with what had happened to her grandfather and Frank, and how she abhorred violence.

“Speaking of little sisters…”

She twisted to face him and arched an eyebrow.

“I need to explain. Will you hear me out before you say anything?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I had a little sister. Carrie. Sweet and innocent. Eight years younger than me.” His face took on a faraway gaze. “She was the sunshine in my life. Our father died before she was born. I helped my mom in raising Carrie from birth. She was a little miracle.”

Heart thumping, Felicia nodded. Babies were truly a blessing from God.

“When she was sixteen, she got a weekend job at a local McDonald's just out of Alexandria.”

Felicia realized she didn't know where Spence was from, or why he came to Lagniappe. All CoCo had told her about her preacher was that he was from Louisiana and, after seminary, had wanted to move to a small community. Felicia'd never questioned more. Maybe she should have.

“Carrie was scheduled for closing one Saturday night, so we didn't expect her home until after midnight. I was going to LSU-S, but came home every weekend to help Mom and Carrie.” He leaned forward and held his head in his hands. “I'll never forget that night. One o'clock rolled around, and Carrie wasn't home. Mom woke me up and asked me to go looking for her. I knew the route she'd take from work. We were concerned because the old clunker Carrie drove was famous for breaking down. Throwing the timing belt.” He shook his head.