Byrd's Desire (2 page)

Chapter Two

Thunder boomed overhead with enough power to rattle the dishes in the
China cabinet and startle Celia.  She raised her head from the notebook Angie had left and peered outside through the heavy drapes.  The sky had turned dark and lightning flared across the sky with vivid fire.  On impulse, Celia headed for the front porch where she sank onto a comfortable bench.  The clouds rolled in to the west, low and menacing.  Accustomed to a far more limited view of the sky, the stormy panorama intrigued Celia.  Back home in Louisiana, too many trees, buildings, and other structures blocked most of her line of sight.

The wind she’d felt earlier had stilled and the back of her neck
, prickled with anticipation.  More thunder boomed and a bolt of lightning descended from the heavens to earth.  The heavy cloud bank advanced toward Celia and for the moment she felt no fear.  Instead, a wild appreciation for the power of the weather rushed through her, heady and potent.  She swore she could smell and almost taste the ozone in the air as the thunderstorm came closer.  Trees on the far side of the pond began to sway with the wind and within moments a strong, sharp wind, cooler than before, smacked her in the face.  Rain fell in torrents and blew inward until the spray hit Celia.  Hail followed and pelted the ground with enough force that she retreated inside, but the raw energy of the storm fired up something almost pagan within.

Shock and awe
, she thought,
shock and awe
.   By the time the weather moved out, dusk fell, and the ringing telephone drew Celia inside.  She followed the sound until she located the cordless handset on a table beside a lamp and picked it up with more than a little trepidation.

“Hello.”

“Hey cher, it’s just me,” Angie said. “Our flight’s delayed, thanks to the storms, so I thought I’d call because I forgot to give you my keys.”

Celia chuckled. “I’m a dork because I never realized I didn’t have any,” she told her cousin.  So what am I supposed to do
—pick locks for the next year?”

Angie giggled too. “No, no, silly.  There’s an extra set of keys on a hook in the laundry room and Chuck has keys, too.  Nina has house keys.  But I’ll send mine back to you with Chuck so he’ll stop by the house tonight.  It’ll be late and if you’re not up, he’ll wait till tomorrow.”

Crap and double crap
.  Celia dismissed her plan to enjoy a long, hot bath in the huge tub.  If she waited until tomorrow, hanging around for the keys would cut into whatever else she might plan.  “I’ll be up,” she told Angie. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Concern tempered her cousin’s voice. “Yes,” Celia replied. “Just tell him
to bring them to the front door.  I’ll be up reading or watching some TV.”

“Alright, then. He’s fixing to leave in a few minutes so he’ll be there two, three hours.  Everything okay so far? The storm didn’t scare you?”

“No.” Not much frightened Celia these days. “I’m settling in, Angie.”

In the background she caught the sound of airport announcements
, although she couldn’t decipher what was said. “Our flight’s boarding now,” her cousin told her. “I gotta go.  Take care and I’ll talk to you or email you soon.  Love you, Tee-doo.”

Affection seized her midsection and left her speechless for a moment.  “I love you, too,” Celia said after she’d gathered her wits.  “Talk to you soon.” She swallowed the fist-sized knot of tears in her throat and ended the call.  Otherwise, she’d cry and she vowed she wouldn’t.
  As Celia blinked away a few stray tears, she noticed the quiet in the large house.  A wall clock ticked with slow, loud sounds and the central air kicked on with a soft “whoosh,” but otherwise it was silent.  Accustomed to the never ending noise of a busy and overfull apartment complex, the absence of audio spooked her.  A wild urge to sing hit Celia and she began to hum.  She walked through the rooms, aware of her footsteps. There was no other sound but the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.  The silence expanded until it gained enough substance that Celia swore she could feel its heaviness.  Such weight depressed her, and the angst she’d lived with since her job was cut at the Natchitoches Regional Medical Center surged back, stronger than ever.  Few things evoked fear but losing her job hit hard.  When most of her savings trickled away, she’d given notice on her apartment and if Angie hadn’t called to ask if she’d house-sit, she would’ve been headed back to her mama’s house in Lafayette.

Focus, girl.  Let the past go.  You’re here now and all that other shit’s done.
  Celia inhaled a long, deep breath and held it, then released it slowly.  Somewhere in the vast house a clock chimed out the hour ten times.  She hadn’t realized it’d grown so late or that she was hungry.  Hours had passed since she had eaten a chicken sandwich.  Her tummy rumbled at the thought of food.  Thoughts of her favorite comfort foods—boudin sausage, red beans and rice, and gumbo, increased her appetite.  Even a plate of humble rice and gravy held appeal. 
I may start cooking again
, Celia pondered,
I might even make some of Mama and Granma’s dishes
.  She’d lacked time in recent years to do more than simmer a can of soup, sauté a steak with some mushrooms, or throw something in the Crock-pot.  Her microwave had become her meal prep buddy.  When the urge for down-home Cajun food hit, she’d indulged her yearning at her favorite local restaurant back in Natchitoches or headed home to her mama’s kitchen.

In Angie’s high tech kitchen
, Celia rooted in the cupboards and fridge until she found some frozen grilled chicken breasts.  It wasn’t what she craved but it would do so she plunked two onto a cookie sheet and turned on the oven.  She found a box of dirty rice mix in one cabinet so she followed the package directions for the microwave.  Celia poked deeper into the freezer until she found an Asian vegetable blend with thinly-sliced green beans, onions, snow peas, and broccoli.  She nuked a serving and by the time she carried her plate into the dining room, she had managed to create a small feast.  She ate at the big table, leafing through the notebook, and doing her best to commit all the information to memory.  Celia washed down her meal with a glass of sweet tea and returned the notebook to the kitchen.

Tomorrow she would assess the available ingredients and check out the pantry Angie had mentioned along with the rest of the basement.  Now, she’d wait for the ranch boss to show up and then she could indulge in the decadent bath she envisioned. 
To pass the time, she turned on the television and found more channels than she could count.  Then she recalled a notation in the notebook about satellite programming.  Although not much of one to watch much television , Celia located the remote control and flipped until she found a movie, but after thirty minutes she decided she couldn’t hack any more of it.  The vintage chick flick oozed sweet sentimental goo and romance, something Celia no longer believed possible.  One early and mercifully brief marriage and a string of bad relationships turned her off the entire hearts, flowers, and love thing.  Until her job was eliminated, she’d had an ongoing thing with an anesthesiologist on staff, casual and without commitment.  They’d been friends and sometimes lovers, but neither had any starry-eyed expectations of anything more.

But Sid headed back to
Dallas to find a new job and Celia remained in Cajun country, although she had no idea why she’d stayed.  The life she’d built over the past decade in Natchitoches had unraveled with speed.  Most of her friendships were work connected and faded fast when she became one of many unemployed.  Until Angie called, Celia had sent her resume far and wide, north to Shreveport and south to New Orleans, without any success.   Apparently, social service workers weren’t in high demand.

Too keyed up to read, Celia wandered out onto the front porch to wait for Chuck.  The cool air refreshed her and she inhaled a country smell she liked
, although it didn’t resemble the bayou aroma in the least.  This smelled of wind and water, fresh-cut hay, and distant livestock.  It wasn’t rank but a little gamey and the powerful scent of blooming honeysuckle tempered it into something very pleasant.  She noticed there wasn’t a yard light in evidence, at least not in front or within view.  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Celia noticed the skies were clear and thousands of stars glimmered above.   The vast bright panorama made her seem very small and with a childlike wonder she stepped from the porch to gaze upward.  A sense of timeless peace pervaded her senses and a calm she hadn’t known in ages filtered down through the silver light of the moon.  She imagined taking flight through the stars, winging past the wisps of clouds floating through the sky.  God, it would be so free, she thought, free and marvelous.

When approaching headlights sliced through the night
, Celia became grounded once more.  She retreated to the porch and waited until a beat-up old pickup eased to a halt in the drive.  A mature man climbed out, hair half gray, face lined like tooled leather, and approached the porch with a hitch in his step.  His night vision must be far better than hers because he spotted her immediately.  “Hey, you must be Miss Lecompte,” he said in a voice rough as a gravel road and with the bass sound she associated with bullfrogs. “I’m Chuck.”

“Hi, Chuck,” she said and came to her feet. “Please, call me Celia.  Angie said you’d be delivering her keys.”

“Yeah, I got ‘em right here.” He mounted the steps and handed them to her. “You need anything else?”

Celia opened her lips to say
“no,” then hesitated when she caught sight of her car.  “Well, not tonight, but is there any way I could get some gasoline for my car? It was almost empty when I pulled into the ranch.”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure there is. We’ve got a gas pump behind the main barn for ranch vehicles.  I’ll come get it tomorrow morning and fill it up for you, no problem.”

A year to stay in the beautiful, large house, utilities paid, all the food she could eat, plus a salary and gas for her car.  Damned if she hadn’t dropped into the middle of an enchanted fairy tale.  “That’d be great, thanks,” she said. “Alright,” he said. “Now if you need me, you should have my number up at the bunkhouse.  I can be down here in a jiffy if anything goes wrong.”

“I appreciate it, Chuck.”

She headed inside but watched as he drove back down the circular driveway and then off in another direction.  Celia jingled the keys. They were heavy in her hand and she noted each one had been color coded as well as tagged.  She fingered the one marked “front door” and sorted through the bunch.  Unwilling to misplace them, she tucked them into her purse. Then she locked the door and headed for the master bedroom.  Her basic discount store luggage didn’t fit the luxurious décor but she unzipped one of the bags to retrieve a nightgown and clean panties.  Celia shucked off her clothing onto the floor and headed for the bathroom.  She ran the water as hot as she could stand and drew a full bath, adding some scented bath oils to the water before she climbed into the tub.

Instant bliss surrounded her as the heated, fragrant water eased her weary body. 
The long day would end soon, a day beginning with a final farewell to the apartment she’d called home and a long road trip.  Celia reflected on the beauty of the night sky and for the first time thought she might’ve made the right choice coming here.  About the time she adjusted, though, the year would end and she’d have to start over somewhere new, but Angie, her cousin and fairy godmother, had gifted her with time to figure it out.   And she would…somehow.

Her skin tingled with anticipation and hope, something she’d lost
.  Now it crept back.  Tomorrow she would unpack her suitcases and touch base with her mother about the things she’d stored there.  She needed to withdraw her applications and resumes for now, unless she found something close to the ranch.  In the morning, she’d head over to Sallisaw and familiarize herself with the layout of the small town.  Celia’s mind brimmed with mental lists and plans.

When she crawled beneath the covers of the king
-sized bed, drowsiness hit with the force of a windstorm and for the first time in several months, Celia slept.   If she dreamed, she remembered nothing but when she woke it was with a renewed sense of purpose and faint stirrings of contentment.  She lazed in bed awhile longer, savoring the fact that she didn’t need to hurry to do anything.  The comfortable mattress kept her prone and she might’ve lingered until midday if her cell phone, still inside her purse on the dresser, hadn’t rung and roused her with the familiar notes of the Hank Williams classic, “Jambalaya
.
”

“Hey, Mama,” she said as she kicked the sheet back and sat up. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I wanted to make sure my girl made it up there to Oklahoma,” her mother replied. Her voice resonated across the miles, sweeter than corn syrup, thicker than spring mud, and flavored with the smoke from too many unfiltered cigarettes.

“I did. I got here yesterday afternoon in time to see Angie.”

“Oui, chérie
. 
I’m sure some policeman would’ve called me if you hadn’t.” Her mother’s dry wit never quit, Celia thought. “But I wanted to hear you say so yourself.  So, how is it?”

“
The house? It’s fantastic, like something out of a movie.” Words to describe the place escaped Celia. “It’s big.”

“I’ve heard.  So you cleaned out your apartment?”