Trouble in Mudbug (37 page)

“Why did you marry me, Hank? Was it all some big joke or some ploy to make your mother think you’d grown up? And why me? I’d never done anything to you.”

Hank shook his head, his expression sad. “I never meant to hurt you, and I swear I didn’t marry you because of Mom. I married you because you are the best person I’ve ever known.” His gaze locked on hers. “I figured if I was going to change for anyone, it would be you.”

Maryse bit her lower lip, not sure what to say. Hank Henry respected her? That was news. But in the back of her mind lurked the question that had burned inside of her for two long years. “Did you love me?” Maryse finally asked.

Hank nodded. “I loved you as much as I could love anyone. I’m just not sure I understand what love really is, or if I’ll ever be able to do it right.” He took her hand and squeezed. “You deserved better than me, Maryse. So much better.”

“Then why didn’t you contact me? You left me hanging for two years, Hank. Your mom’s money aside, you could have at least called or wrote a letter or something.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to do, and I’m ashamed of it.” Hank dropped his gaze. “When I first left, Mom arranged for me to be in rehab. She hoped I’d get straight and make my marriage to you work. But I wasn’t ready to change, so it was a futile effort.”

Hank looked back at Maryse, unmistakable regret in his eyes. “I was selfish, and I was immature. I convinced myself that you were better off without me, and that wasn’t exactly a lie. So I took the easy way out and disappeared. Hell, I didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to divorce me. Mom never said anything, and I guess now we know why.”

Hank reached over and took Maryse’s hand in his. “I am so sorry for everything, Maryse. Can you ever forgive me?”

Maryse sniffed, trying to keep her unbidden tears at bay.

“Hey,” Hank said. “You’re going to be fine. You know that. And I don’t want that damned land, okay? This whole mess makes me sick.”

“What about Harold?”

Hank’s jaw set in a hard line. “My murdering father will get his eventually.” He gave her an apologetic look. “But I’m afraid I can’t sit around and wait on it. I don’t think I’d come out too good with the cops. Dad will make sure everyone believes I was in on it from the beginning.”

Maryse shook her head and held up her phone. “That’s not a problem. I have the entire conversation recorded.”

Hank looked stunned for a moment. Then his face broke out in a broad smile. “You’re really something. Holy shit, that’s something.” He laughed, then clutched his side and groaned.

Maryse handed him a cup of water and watched him grimace as he took a sip. “You have to be tired,” she said, realizing his injury hurt more than he was letting on. “I should get out of here and let you rest. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll turn this over to the police and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

Hank gave her a sad smile. “Thanks, Maryse, for everything.”

Maryse removed her hand from Hank’s and eased out of the room as Hank’s eyes closed. When she reached the hall, the dam burst, and the tears she’d been holding in for two long years came pouring out. Tears of sadness and joy and relief, all at the same time.

Hank had actually cared about her, and that made her feel so much better about herself and her marriage. But more importantly, she had realized that her marrying Hank hadn’t been the stupid action of a grieving daughter. The truth was she’d loved Hank then. She just didn’t love him now.

But admitting that at one time her feelings had been true and real had allowed her to let it all go.

Luc was in the hospital lobby arguing with the nurse behind the desk and growing more aggravated by the moment. “I need you to listen to me! The police said they brought her here—check again. Maryse Robicheaux. Do you need me to spell it?”

The frustrated nurse stood and put her hands on her hips. “Look, Mr. LeJeune. I’ve lived here all my life, and I know how to spell Robicheaux. No one by that name has been checked in today. Someone is mistaken.”

Luc held his tongue and stalked away from the desk. Maryse was somewhere in this hospital, possibly under the care of his primary suspect, and no one could tell him a thing. He yanked his cell phone from his pocket, determined not to leave the hospital until he had seen Maryse with his own eyes. Hell, maybe even checked her pulse. He had just pressed in the number for the Mudbug police when Maryse walked into the hospital lobby, a dazed expression on her face.

It was all Luc could do to stop himself from grabbing her in an embrace and never ever letting her go, but based on their last conversation, he figured that wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead, he settled for squeezing her arm. “Are you all right? The police said someone had been shot and they’d taken you to the hospital. I thought…”

Maryse came out of her stupor and shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It was Hank who got shot.”

“Hank? Are you kidding me? How?”

“He pushed me out of the way and took a bullet in the process.” Maryse looked at him. “He saved my life.”

Luc felt his heart drop. He should have been the one to save Maryse—be her hero. “Then there are miracles in this world,” he said, trying to sound normal. “How bad is he hurt?”

“It’s only a surface wound. Hurts like the dickens, and he was bleeding like a stuck hog, but he’s going to be all right.”

“Good, that’s good,” Luc said, trying to sound like he meant it. “And you? Are you all right?”

Maryse nodded. “I’m going to be just fine.”

Luc wondered a bit at the way she’d phrased her words but was too afraid of the answer to ask. Maryse and Hank had obviously come to some sort of common ground, and Hank
was
still her husband. “Can I take you back to the hotel?”

Maryse pointed to the hospital entrance just as a police cruiser pulled up. “I have an armed escort. Mildred and Sabine insisted.”

“Good,” Luc said, and nodded, hoping his disappointment didn’t show.

“So,” Maryse said, and smiled, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Luc heard the unspoken question in her voice, but he heard the uncertainty behind it, too, and he knew that if Maryse and Hank were reconsidering their relationship, the last thing she needed was another complication in her life. “Actually, my assignment here is over. I’m supposed to report back to New Orleans tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Her smile dropped, and Luc mentally cursed himself for being the bastard Maryse had accused him of being.

Maryse shrugged. “Well, then, thanks for everything, and good luck.” She walked out of the hospital entrance without so much as a backward glance, climbed into the waiting police cruiser, and rode away.

Out of Luc’s life. Back to her own.

It was long after midnight before Maryse finished explaining her cell phone recording to the police and returned to the hotel. She struggled to keep her emotions under control as she talked to Mildred and Sabine, assuring them that the police were handling everything with the recording, that she was fine, Hank was fine, and she was suffering no lingering effects from almost dying—again. She begged off any further conversation, claiming exhaustion. She managed to make it to her room and into the shower before the tears started to fall.

Tears for her marriage that never really was and a promising relationship that was never going to be. What was it about her that she only attracted men with ulterior motives and no staying ability?

By the time she’d finished her shower and her crying jag, the exhaustion she had claimed earlier was no longer merely an excuse. But as she stepped out of the bathroom, a very contrite Helena Henry was perched on the edge of her bed. Maryse held in a sigh, knowing that it was high time she and Helena had that heart to heart Helena had kept promising her. Maryse just didn’t have a clue where she was supposed to get the energy to do it.

“How did it go with the police?” Helena asked.

Maryse pulled some clothes out of the chest of drawers and began to dress. “If you’re so interested, why didn’t you stick around? Afraid I might figure out a way to strangle you?”

Helena stared at the floor, a guilty expression on her face. “I know what I did was wrong, but I swear, I never imagined any of this happening. I had my reasons, and at the time I thought they were good ones.”

Maryse turned her hands palm up. “Then I think it’s high time I hear them. Everything, Helena. No more secrets.”

Helena raised her gaze back to Maryse and nodded. “You deserve the truth. You deserve a lot more than that, actually, but before I tell you everything, you have to know that I never, ever intended to put you in any danger. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Okay. Then go ahead. Let me have it.”

Helena took a deep breath and gazed around the room, as if deciding where to begin. “I guess I’ll start with your mother,” she said finally.

Maryse stood straight up and stared at Helena. Her mother had been the last thing in the world she’d expected Helena to talk about. “My mother?”

Helena smiled. “Your mother was the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. She volunteered at the orphanage, teaching the older kids math and reading stories and playing games with the younger ones. They all loved her very much, and she was so great with them.”

Maryse sank onto the edge of the bed next to Helena. “I never knew she volunteered there. No one ever told me.”

Helena gave her a sad smile. “She quit before you were born. In fact, she quit right after finding out she was pregnant with you. She’d seen so much sadness, so much heartache in those children that she wanted to make sure her own never suffered a moment’s pain, never shed a tear thinking her parents didn’t love her.”

Maryse nodded, the lump in her throat making speech impossible.

“The doctors had told her she wouldn’t be able to carry a child to term,” Helena continued, “so you were a real miracle for her.”

Maryse felt the tears well up again. “I wish I could remember,” she said, the sadness of her loss sweeping over her.

“I do, too,” Helena said, her voice barely a whisper. “When your mom was first diagnosed, she thought she’d beat it. But she got worse and worse and knew things weren’t going to get any better. Before she passed, your mother asked me to make sure you were taken care of. She knew your dad was a good man, but she was afraid he might not be able to see to all the things you would need.”

Maryse stared at her. “My mother asked
you
to look after me? Did she know you at all?”

Helena laughed. “I know it’s hard to believe, especially from where you sit, but your mother…well, your mother knew the real me. So the first year or so, I did my best to see that you had the woman’s input you needed, although your dad did nothing to make it easy on me. We never much got along, even though I always respected him, and I know for a fact that he loved you more than anything.”

“And after the first year?”

Helena waved one hand in dismissal. “Oh well, then your dad started seeing Mildred, and I could tell straight off how much she loved you. Almost as if you were her own. So I bowed out, knowing you were in great hands.”

Maryse stared at Helena, certain the woman was leaving something out of her story—again. “And you had nothing to do with me after that?”

“Well, not directly,” Helena hedged. She waited for a couple of seconds, obviously hoping Maryse was going to go off on another subject, but finally realized that wasn’t going to happen. “Fine. I left you to your dad and Mildred until it was time for college. Then I saw to it that you got the education your mother would have wanted you to have.”