Cajun Magic 02 - Voodoo for Two (11 page)

“Is Eric in love with you?” Calliope asked as only Calliope could, blurting it out, loud enough only a severely deaf person wouldn’t have heard what she said.

“Shh!” Lucie’s cheeks reddened, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to her, anyway. “I’d rather not everyone hear about my little plan.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Calliope glanced around at the nearby onlookers, making her even more conspicuous. Then she leaned closer. “So? Is he?”

“I think so.” Her gaze darted toward Ben. Was the magic working on him, too? Could that explain the close dance of a little while ago?

“Ben’s been acting kinda weird all night,” Alex said
.
“I bet the magic is playing hell with him, as well. Although I’m sure the belly-rubbin’ you gave him earlier enhanced the affect.”

She didn’t want to think what would happen if Ben fell in love with her because of a spell. She didn’t want his love if she could only get it with magic.

Then why would she settle for Eric’s love when it was generated by Voodoo? She mentally smacked her forehead.
Don’t get cold feet now, for chrissake.
The magic probably didn’t work on a person if he hated her already. Ben couldn’t be falling in love with her. No hex was that strong.
Was it?
“Maybe Ben’s got an upset stomach,” she suggested.

“That’s how I felt last time I fell in love.” Calliope sighed. “I’ve never had such a stomachache as when I fell head-over-heels for Rene.”

Alex grunted. “That entire box of pralines you consumed didn’t help, either.”

“I was so in love.” Calliope clasped her hands together and stared off into the night.

“And how long did that one last?” Alex asked.

“Two whole months.” Calliope’s head snapped up and she grinned. “My longest relationship yet.”

“Point is, my brother looks like my dog, Sport, when he eats too many sweat socks.” Alex propped her hands on her hips. “The guy is an absolute case.”

Lucie knew where Alex was going with this conversation, and she hurried to cut her off at the pass. “That’s his problem, not mine.”

Alex’s brows furrowed into a deep crease over her nose
.
“The way I see it, it is your problem. You set that bug loose, loaded for one bear, and bagged two. You gotta let one of the bears off the hook.”

“I’m not undoing the spell.” Lucie crossed her arms over her chest. “I have Eric practically where I want him.”

“Has he proposed?” Calliope clapped her hands. “I’ve always wanted to be a bridesmaid.”

“Don’t eat your cake before you see the shine on the ring, girlfriend.” Alex grabbed Lucie’s hands. “You can’t leave Ben mooning over you like this. It’s not right. You and he used to be a thing. What if he really has feelings for you?”

How long had she waited for Ben to come back to Bayou Miste and realize she’d only sent him away for his own good
?
How long had she waited for him to profess his love and apologize for his hurtful words?
Seven lonely, interminable years.

“I’m not reversing the spell.” She stood firmly on her sore feet. “I’m getting out of Bayou Miste, once and for all.”

“
What about Mo and DeeDee?” Alex’s frown deepened. “And I think the bug zapped Larry and Elaine. What if Elaine tells Craig to shove off? Their wedding is scheduled for a week from yesterday. That’s only six days away.”

Lucie hunched her shoulders. “We don’t even know the spell worked. Why get all worried about something that might not be a problem?”

Another giggle erupted from the swamp. Lucie, Calliope, and Alex all turned to see DeeDee and Mo walking hand-in-hand down the swamp boardwalk.

A stern look on her face, Alex poked a finger at Lucie’s chest. “Ben’s my brother. Much as I think he’s bossy and overbearing, he’s still family, and we Boyettes look out for one another. So, if you consider yourself my friend, I suggest you fix it
.
” Alex stomped away, her mouth set in a grim line.

Calliope glanced from Alex’s retreating figure to Lucie and back. “I rode with her. I hope she doesn’t leave without me.” She laid a hand on Lucie’s arm. “Are you okay? I mean, Alex was pretty hard on you.”

She scuffed her sandal in the gravel. “Yeah, I’m okay. You go on. I don’t want you to miss your ride.”

“She is mad right now, but you know we love you, don’t you?”

“I know, Calliope. I love you, too
.
Now, hurry.”

Calliope scooted across the gravel to the little red Jeep Alex drove. As soon as she climbed in, the vehicle spun out of the parking lot.

Lucie stood on the edge of the crowd wondering what the hell she’d done. She wasn’t happy—hadn’t been happy since the moment Ben Boyette had shown up in Bayou Miste. Everything she’d tried to do from then on had only made matters worse. And now that she’d started the chain of events, how on earth could she stop it?

Chapter Eleven

Ben opened the screen door and knocked on Miz Mozelle Reneau’s front door. He stared down at the straw mat with a bright gold sunflower and the word “welcome” painted across it
.
He hoped Mozelle was home. His mother said she was as good as they come for town historian or gossip. If you needed to know something, hell, anything, she knew about things as far back as anyone could remember.

And he wanted to know more about Pascal Pasquale’s words from last night. What had he meant by the Littingtons taking everything? Ben had grown up in the community and hadn’t noticed the Littingtons being anything but gracious and good to the people of the parish.

Mozelle Reneau was his best bet for more information. And the little fact that she happened to be Lucie’s landlady had nothing to do with his being on her doorstep. Nothing whatsoever. Besides, he couldn’t see the garage apartment from where he stood, anyway.

The haint blue painted door swung open. “Benjamin Franklin Boyette
.
Why, bless my soul
.
” Miz Mozelle pushed the screen wide open and waved him through. “Come on in and sit a spell. Just powdered a fresh batch of beignets.” She leaned close and cupped her hand around her mouth as if she was about to tell a secret in a room full of people. “Mr. Thibodeaux’s favorites.” She winked. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharin’.” Mozelle took a deep breath.

While Mozelle breathed, he took the opportunity to say, “I didn’t come to eat Mr. Thibodeaux’s beignets. I came—”

“Nonsense
.
” She hooked his arm with a surprisingly strong grip and ushered him into her roomy kitchen. “I always make more than the two of us could possibly eat. That’s me, always making more than I need. I should have had a whole house full of children. Alas, my husband, bless his departed soul”—she made the sign of the cross over her chest—“and I weren’t blessed with children. So, I give away the leftovers to the neighbors, their children, and sometimes their dogs. For that matter, I’ve given quite a few to your sister, Alexandra. I think she gives them to her dog, Sport. How else could she stay so slim and trim? Mind you, I’m only guessing. You tell her I don’t mind in the least. That’s a good dog she has. Minds his manners and doesn’t dump in my yard. Occasionally sprays my rose bushes, but so far, I don’t see any damage.”

“Miz Mozelle,” Ben blurted out, his head reeling. How could such a small woman have so much to say? “I wanted to ask you some questions. Do you mind?”

“Have a seat at the table while I get you a cup of coffee.” Without stopping, she dashed around the kitchen, pulling mugs from the cabinets and filling them with the thick brown sludge the Cajuns called coffee. “You do drink coffee, don’t you? Do you take it black or with cream and sugar? I even have some whipped cream, if you like the fancy kinds.”

“Black is fine, thank you.” Didn’t this woman ever shut up
?
“About those questions…”

“Why certainly,” Mozelle sank into the seat across from him, her eyes wide and her smile bright. “Ask away.”

Before Mozelle could slip in another dissertation about beignets or dogs, he said, “Last night at the barbecue, Pascal Pasquale said something to Eric about the Littingtons taking everything from his family. Do you have any idea what he meant by that? I’ve lived here almost all my life, except the past seven years. Did I miss something?”

Mozelle touched a finger to her chin and stared off into a far corner of the room. “Let me see. Why would Pascal Pasquale say Eric Littington takes everything?”

“That was my question.”

Mozelle’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall Eric ever taking anything from Pascal, unless…” The room fell blessedly silent for a few blissful seconds.

He actually managed to breathe two whole breaths, uninterrupted.

Then Mozelle’s eyes widened and she focused on him. “Odette
.
”

“Odette? As in Odette Littington? Eric’s mother?” He had only met Mrs. Littington once before she died of cancer. He hadn’t known Eric that well at the time. They must have been around fifteen years old when it happened.

Eric had taken his mother’s death hard. He’d missed an entire week of school, and when he came back, he’d been a quiet shell of his former self. “What about Mrs. Littington? I can’t imagine she’d take anything that didn’t belong to her.”

“You don’t know this story?” Mozelle’s smile widened and she leaned forward
.

Ben almost expected her to rub her hands together like a child about to eat her favorite dessert.

“Odette was as pretty as a summer day, all golden-haired and full of sunshine. She didn’t have a mean bone in her entire body.” Mozelle’s gaze slipped from Ben’s as she slid into her memories
.

“How does Odette have anything to do with Pascal? She died before Pascal could remember her.”

“That might be so, but ‘Stinky’ never let Pascal forget.”

“Who’s Stinky?” Ben caught himself tapping his fingers on the table. Why couldn’t she just get to the point?

Mozelle’s brows furrowed. “Odette was nice to everyone, even Pete Pasquale. Everyone called him ‘Stinky’ back then on account he came straight to school after helping his father prepare the shrimp seines. He always smelled of shrimp and dead fish.

Ben nodded. He’d done his share of shrimping with his father before his dad traded the shrimp boat for a charter fishing rig. But even while his father was shrimping, Ben’s work on the shrimp boats was confined to the late evenings, weekends, and summers. Never before school.

“The kids teased Stinky all the time, until, one day, Odette punched a boy in the mouth and told him to lay off.”

Ben leaned back. “Mrs. Littington punched someone in the mouth?” He remembered her as a gentle woman with a soft voice and a sweet smile.

“She sure did. Shocked everyone. Especially Stinky.”

“I still don’t get the connection.”

“Hold on to your britches, Ben, I’m getting there.” Mozelle jumped to her feet. “Want more coffee? A beignet? I’ve got some shrimp gumbo if you’d like me to warm some for you.”

He inhaled and counted to ten. Mozelle was only trying to be nice. “No, thank you.”

Mozelle topped off Ben’s coffee mug with a steamy brew. “When Stinky saw Odette punch the other fella in the mouth, he took her defense as a sign of love. That silly man thought Odette loved him.”

“And did she?”

“No, of course not.” Mozelle pushed a beignet in front of Ben and sat down across from him. “She was already dating Jason Littington, who’d gone off to college that year. Pete followed her around like a lost puppy for weeks. Poor girl couldn’t get rid of him. After one of Jason’s visits back to Bayou Miste, Odette disappeared. Her family was pert near frantic with worry. She showed up a day later with Jason. They’d done eloped and she had a shiny new ring on her finger.”

“I’m still not seeing the connection. Odette didn’t belong to Pete.”

“No, she didn’t. But Pete thought she’d been forced into marriage with Jason. He even tried to kidnap her and take her into the swamps.”

Ben leaned forward in his seat. He couldn’t even picture the elegant Mrs. Littington being dragged through the swamps by Stinky Pasquale. “What happened?”

“Jason found Stinky before he could get his boat started. Punched him out and threatened to have him thrown in jail if he ever so much as spoke to Odette again.”

“So what does that have to do with Pascal?”

“Pete ended up marrying Frenchie Champeau, whether out of spite or what, no one knows. If it was spite, the darn fool boy only cut off his nose to spite his face
.
Made himself and Frenchie miserable. Frenchie got pregnant with Pascal at the same time Odette was pregnant with Eric. You’d have thought a child of his own would settle Pete Pasquale down. Instead, he compared Pascal to Eric at every turn.”

Ben finished for Mozelle, “And Pascal could never live up to Eric.”

“Nope.” Mozelle shook her frizzy, brassy head. “Every time Eric excelled in something, Pete was sure to tell Pascal that should have been him.”

“Damn.” Ben had more than a little empathy for Pascal. He’d witnessed how Pete had belittled him in front of the town last night. “No wonder Pascal hates Eric.”

“Yessuh.” Mozelle pleated a napkin between her fingers
.
“Now, I worry about Pascal falling into the same trap as his pappa.”

“How so?”

“Didn’t you see how Pascal was about Lucie last night?” Mozelle fixed a penetrating gaze on him. “Pantin’ after her like a rabid dog, he was.”

Why was Mozelle staring at him like he was just as guilty? Suddenly feeling like a rat cornered by a hungry alligator, he squirmed in his chair. Had he been just as obviously smitten as Pascal? “You think Pascal is angry enough at Eric to cause trouble?” Nothing like asking a question about someone else to deflect the scrutiny off oneself. He mentally patted himself on the back, although that squirmy feeling persisted.

“He caused a little trouble last night, didn’t he?” Mozelle asked.

“Yeah, but it could have been the alcohol.” Ben’s job was to discover anybody interfering in Eric’s campaign for congress. Was Pascal Pasquale a threat? Would his obsession with Lucie cause problems
?

Damn.
He sat up straight. Would Pascal try to kidnap Lucie to keep her from seeing Eric?

“I’m not sure Pascal had the time to trash Eric’s car, but he sure has a hankerin’ for that Lucie.” Mozelle stared hard at him again, then looked down at the napkin she’d shredded. “What happened to you and Lucie? I thought you two were in love way back when.”

“That’s ancient history.” He didn’t want to discuss Lucie with Miz Mozelle. She obviously already saw more than he’d intended.

“You two were pretty thick back before you left for the police academy in Baton Rouge. Weren’t you engaged?”

“Yeah, for about two days.”

“What happened?”

“I got a letter of acceptance to the police academy and she dumped me.” The old pain of her rejection turned like a knife in his gut.

“Why didn’t you take Lucie with you?”

For some idiotic reason, his mouth opened and answered for him, because surely he wouldn’t be telling the queen of gossip about his sorry excuse for a love life. “Couldn’t afford to at the time. She told me to go without her—that I wasn’t good enough for her.”

“Is that what happened?” Mozelle shook her head. “Huh. After you left, she moped around town for weeks as if her favorite puppy had died. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Did to me. She wised up. Why would she want to marry a cop? I’d never make the kind of money she wanted to marry.” Ben stood. “Anyway, she wants Eric. He fits her criteria—rich and influential. As far as I’m concerned, he can have her.”

A sad smile tipped the corners of Mozelle’s mouth. “Still have feelins for the gal, do you?”

“Hell, no.”
Liar.
He turned away from those older, knowing eyes and shook his head to clear the devil whispering in his ear. He
didn’t
have feelings for Lucie. She’d dumped him. Why would he ever want to get involved with her again?

And why did he still long to hold her in his arms…?

“Sometimes people have good reasons for pushing the ones they love away. If you still have feelings for her, you ought to ask her why she sent you away.”

“Seven years is a long time. I’m not going there again.”

Mozelle stood up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hurt pretty bad the first time, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Would have been hard to cart a wife around, goin’ through the academy and those first few years as a rookie cop, I suppose.” Mozelle wrapped two beignets in a napkin and handed them to him.

He took the warm pastries without seeing them. Memories of those last few days with Lucie crowded into his mind. She hadn’t changed a bit. Lucie was still beautiful and soft and smelled of roses.

“I see you got some thinking to do. And I got a fella to go visit. Mr. Thibodeaux and I take coffee at this time of the morning.” She ushered him to the door. “If you don’t eat those beignets, give them to one of your brothers or sisters. And Ben?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You should ask Lucie why she really sent you away. A woman’s mind can work in mysterious ways.”

He stepped out onto the sunflower mat, his head clouded with memories. Why
had
Lucie pushed him away? And why had she moped around after he’d gone? Could his angry words have hurt her? At the time, he hadn’t thought so. She’d been pretty harsh with him, blindsiding him with her rejection.

Hell, nothing made sense when it came to women.

Why couldn’t women be more straightforward, like men?

…

“Gran LeBieu!” Lucie stood with her door open and her mouth hanging slack. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t an old woman have de right to visit her favorite granddaughter?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Since when do you come visit me? You usually send a command for me to visit you. And grandmothers aren’t supposed to have favorites.”

“Be dat as it may, don’t be rude and keep de ol’ bones standin’ on de steps.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucie stepped aside, allowing the swamp’s most infamous Voodoo queen access to the inner sanctum of her one-bedroom garage apartment. She followed at a distance, wary and ready for anything.
Mamère
LeBieu never paid her a visit. “If this has anything to do with the fight at the barbecue last night, I didn’t start it.”

Gran LeBieu worked her way through the apartment to the minuscule kitchen where she rummaged until she located Lucie’s stash of tea bags. “Can’t a body visit family wit’out de second degree?”

Eyes narrowed, Lucie propped a fist on one hip. “I’ve never known you to just go visit. Fess up. Why’d you come?”

With a teacup full of water in her hand, her grandmother fumbled with the door of the microwave, trying to pry it open. “Newfangled gadgets, can’t open dem to save my life.”

Lucie opened the door, stuck the cup inside, and turned the oven on. Then she leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “
Mamère
, you’re stalling.”