A Perfect Mistake (12 page)

“What about
his family?” my daddy snapped.

I gave them a hard
look of accusation. “Aren’t you even going to ask how he
is? He’s given hours and hours of his time to all these plans
for the church. Going more than that extra mile. He stopped on the
road just two days ago and fixed my flat tire and helped carry in
groceries, even when I was quite nasty to him. Whatever happened to
mercy, Daddy? What happened to taking care of your fellow human
being? Isn’t that what Jesus would do?”

“What? You’re
throwing back my sermons into my own face? This is about decorum,”
he thundered. “An unattached, single girl doesn’t spend
the night with a man who isn’t her husband. His family should
have been notified.”

“Daddy, there
was no time to call his family. High fevers like that can make people
seize. Did you want me to abandon him alone and delirious?”

“Of course
not. It’s just not right….”

“What’s
not right?! The fact that Boone’s an Outlaw? How would it look
for the preacher’s daughter to even talk to him? Oh, God. It’s
the end of the world! I’m so done with this.”

I shouldn’t
have sassed him. Good girls didn’t sass back. Ladies kept their
opinions to themselves. But all the dictates from my upbringing
couldn’t hold back the rage I had stored inside me all these
years. I was constantly discounted. I had no say. I was ordered and
pushed into things I didn’t want for my life.

But it
was
my life. And, just like my brother Ethan, I’d had enough. “I’m
not a child anymore. I’m so, so far from being a child. I’m
almost twenty. I’ve lived away from home for a year. I’ve
been through a lot. Don’t lecture me about Boone. He needed me,
and I stayed.”

My daddy was shocked
at my outburst. But I wasn’t going to let him bowl me over and
make it seem that I was inappropriate in staying and caring for
Boone. I had so terribly wronged him. And then left him hanging.

And, the
embarrassment of having Braxton and Booker and—oh God,
Aubree—see us like that. My God, I wasn’t sure I could
even look any of them in the eyes again.

As usual, my momma
didn’t say anything, but she looked at me differently, as if
somehow her little girl had been replaced by a person she didn’t
really know.

“I’m
really tired,” I said. “I’ve been up all night
taking care of a feverish man. I’m going to sleep for a bit.”

I left my parents
gaping after me. I knew this wasn’t over. But exerting my
independence was high on my list of what needed doing so I could get
what I wanted out of life and leave Suttontowne behind me. I went to
my room and opened my purse. I slipped the picture out and just
stared at it. My heart broke all over again. I kissed it and replaced
it, gently tucking it back inside my wallet.

Grabbing my cell, I
opened my window and climbed out. Like ghosts, I heard the voices of
my childhood—Ethan’s boyish laugh, my own shy giggle,
Daddy’s promises he would come find us and tickle us silly. My
momma yelling for us to run. The memories bombarded me—good and
bad.

I walked briskly
away from the house and slipped into the swamp. I had grown up here
on the edge of the Atchafalaya, but had never felt a party to its
secrets. The swamp was a world unto itself, ancient, mysterious,
primal. I had always thought of it as alive, not just an environment.
Something with a mind and eyes and a dark, shadowed soul. That
impression closed in on me as I walked further and further inside the
heart of the bayou.

The deeper I went,
the quieter it got. The expectant, hushed silence of the swamp.

I walked onto a
small dock made of just planks and tree branches and just sat on the
edge for a moment.

Last year I made
what I had thought were solid decisions. Decided that Boone Outlaw
had made a victim out of me. I had wanted to blame him. Had to blame
him. Because if I hadn’t, this would all have been on me.

As I sat there, I
discovered that all the anger I felt for him was just gone. I no
longer believed that he had anything to do with giving me a drug so
he could take advantage of me.

What I had seen of
him revealed strong character and a good heart. The way he’d
handled that little boy. The way he’d fended off that woman’s
advances. The way he talked so respectfully to my daddy, gave up his
time and money to make our church beautiful. A man who wanted to
build us picnic tables, a barbeque and a gazebo.

That was Boone
Outlaw, and I had been so horribly wrong.

My actions
afterwards had been all my responsibility. Sure, I had been
influenced by a drug that party animals took to heighten their party
experience. But was that really an excuse, especially for what
happened later?

And I had to wonder
who had slipped me that damn drug. Maybe Stacy could shed some light
on who might have had an opening. I’d go visit her as soon as I
could.

The thing was, every
time I thought about that night, what I felt was longing. Longing for
how his skin had felt beneath my hands, how his mouth had tasted, how
his warm, soft lips had devoured me. It didn’t matter how hard
I tried to forget how it had felt to have Boone slide into me, so
gently, so sweetly, like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he
knew I was a virgin and he had to be careful. That he knew that I had
fantasized about being with him like this, again and again. Even
though he had been wasted, he was so, so gentle, like I was his dream
come true.

The X was a good
excuse, and though it had been in my system, it only heightened what
I already wanted. And as I watched him walk away in the rain two days
ago, angry and upset with me, I felt totally ashamed that I had
allowed fear to keep me from telling him what he had every right to
know. Fear that my parents would find out about what had happened.
And fear that perhaps my anger should be directed at the person
really responsible for everything.

Me.

But since I had made
the decision last year to keep quiet, I was stuck with it now. And,
it destroyed me all over again. Tortured me until I thought I was
going to just drop dead on the spot.

I couldn’t
turn back. I couldn’t tell Boone anything about that heavy
secret. It would stay buried so deep into me that it could break only
my own heart, every second of every day.

I looked down at the
cell and pushed the button to turn it on. I pulled up the name with
the New York area code. Pushing call, I waited until she picked up
the other end of the line.

“Hi. Do you
have time to talk?”

“Of course,
Verity. Always.”

I sucked in a jerky
breath, fighting the tears. I would get through this. I would find
that place again that allowed me to breathe. I would find the
strength I had forged over the past year.

She waited for me as
she always did. The quiet of the swamp bolstered me, and I started to
talk. And, with a soft hush, the swamp listened to my secret, taking
it into its dark, shadowed soul.

#

Boone

I woke up to the
unmistakable smell of my favorite dish. For a moment, I thought I was
dreaming it. But when I opened my heavy, bleary eyes, it didn’t
go away. A freakin’ miracle.

I crawled slowly out
of bed, the flu having a good, solid hold on me now. I had gone to
the doctor and gotten diagnosed and treated for the flu, a rare
occurrence in the summer. In the bathroom, I hacked and blew my nose,
cursing little microscopic bugs to fucking hell.

When I walked out of
my room, I was surprised to find Brax in the kitchen, the mixer going
on what smelled like…wait…garlic potatoes. Okay, this
was interesting. Brax didn’t show it often, but I knew he cared
about me. Most of time we just threw insults at each other, but I
knew how he felt, because it was exactly how I felt. We just couldn’t
get around the double whammy of the triplet thing and the brother
thing.

I shuffled through
the living room and groaned as my stomach cramped up something
fierce.

Brax turned around.
For a moment, he studied my face. I knew I had a shiner and a cut
lip. For the first time in my life, Brax looked upset.

“Hey, you
bastard. You tryin’ to get back into my good graces?” I
said, to ease the tension.

“Yeah, you
fucker,” he replied, shooting me a mocking Brax grin.

I think we both felt
a little better then.

I inhaled and sighed
out my exhale. “If I’m not mistaken, and I’m never
wrong about meat loaf, you, Chef Braxton, have been cooking me a kiss
ass and make up meal.”

“Yeah, I got a
kiss for you. A hot one at the end of my fist.”

I rubbed at my sore
eye. “No, thanks. I’ve been kissed enough already. I’ll
pass.” I chuckled and came around the island. Then stopped dead
when I saw the black guitar case that was propped at the entrance to
the foyer.

“What’s
that?”

“Geezus, you
moron. It’s meat loaf, and you better get down on your knees
and worship the culinary ground I walk on, because I also made you
green beans, French Cajun style just like Aunt Heloise, and my
melt-in-your-mouth biscuits.”

I groaned at that.
“No dessert?”

Brax laughed. “Yes,
you jerk. Strawberry shortcake. Again, your favorite.”

“Wow, I should
sock you in the jaw more often. But, huckleberry, I know what the
food is, what is that guitar case?”

Braxton turned
around and walked over to the case. “It’s your fucking
Christmas gift. But since I broke your excellent instrument with my
ass, which I mourned in the car all the way back to Outlaws, I
couldn’t leave you high and dry. I know you love to play before
you go to bed.”

A scrap of
conversation came back to me.
Do
you cry at sappy movies?
I had taken the fifth, if I remembered correctly, but there were
other things that choked up a man. Brotherly love. Well, that was
something that always got to me.

He brought the case
to the island and set it on top. “I’ll let you do the
honors.”

With trembling
fingers I flipped up the clasps, lifting up the top of the case, and
looked down at a 1964 Epiphone El Dorado FT-90. For a moment I
couldn’t quite breathe. I looked at Brax and he was eyeing the
beautiful instrument.

“Where did you
get this?”

He looked at me.
“You’re not going to believe it. I found it at a garage
sale over in Lafayette. Couple didn’t even know what they had.
Price tag was twenty bucks. Belonged to the woman’s daddy.”

“Geezus. These
usually go for about three or four thou. Did you tell them?”

“Yeah, I’m
no thief. I told them what it was worth and offered half. They were
kinda blown away that I was so honest and gave it to me for that
price. I thought you’d really love having an El Dorado since
you’re getting into that flamenco stuff.”

I turned to him and
grabbed him by the back of the neck and pressed my forehead to his.
He put his hand on my forearm and squeezed. For a moment, we just
stood there and bonded.

“Thank you.
This is…means…it’s the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,”
he said as we pulled away from each other, avoiding eye contact. “Now
I’m stuck with finding you something else spectacular for
Christmas.”

“This is more
than enough. I never thought I would own anything like this.”

“No, actually,
it’s not. Look, sometimes I’m a sarcastic SOB. I
shouldn’t have said that about Holy Mary.”

“Yeah, well,
now you know that I don’t like it.”

“Got that,”
he rubbed at his own bruised jaw. “Doesn’t mean I won’t
spout off again,” he warned. “She’s a whole hell of
a lot more trouble than Aubree Walker could ever think to be. Are you
sure you know what you’re doing?”

I nodded.

“Of course you
do. We’re the fucking Outlaws. We can’t do anything
easy.”

There wasn’t a
thing that was easy about Verity and the way she’d left me
hanging.
This
isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked, Boone.
When the fuck had she seen me naked, and what the fuck had we been
doing?

“And, don’t
fucking scare me like that again, Boonie. Or I will kick your ass.”

I shifted. “I’m
sorry, Brax.”

He punched me in the
arm. “Nice right hook, by the way. All that lifting gives you
quite a punch, huckleberry.”

“Well, then
next time you’ll be forewarned.”

“Right, then
I’ll fight dirty.”

I shoved him. “Let’s
eat. My kiss ass and make up meal is getting cold.”

“Shit! My
biscuits!”

#

Boone

Later that day, too
sick to do anything else, I went into my office and tried to make
sense of all my paperwork.

“Where you
at?” Remy called.

Remy Beaupre is one
of my Cajun cousins on my ma’s side of the family. Remy’s
ma and mine are sisters.

“Office. Grab
me some water.”

My Aunt Heloise and
Uncle Otis had been a big help when my daddy left my ma with triplets
to raise and no support. I’d never forget the times we spent
with my pistol of an aunt and my musically talented uncle. He taught
me to play the guitar and Brax the fiddle. All of us used to play
together in big family jam sessions. It had been a blast.

Remy was the oldest
of my cousins. Same coloring as us Outlaws. Dark hair, blue eyes. But
he had a slight Cajun accent and he was bigger, took after my bear of
an uncle.

He threw me the
water and I caught it. My headache hadn’t abated, and I figured
I was going to have to break down and take something for it any
minute now.

“Coonass.”

“What are you
doing here this early in the morning?”

“I had an
errand to run over in this neck of the woods and I wanted to see you
anyway.”

“About what?”

He leaned against
the doorjamb and smiled. “I got a job for you.”