Instructions for Love (20 page)

When he drove away past the banana trees after they’d finished, she stood on the porch waving, the source of the longing in her breast she couldn’t pinpoint.

The man had shown his hateful traits, like opening the letter from her aunt. A few minutes ago he’d revealed a different side, that of being a caring person. While they’d spoken through breakfast, he’d explained how the cow could die giving birth, and she’d seen his real concern that it could happen. And then on a lighter note, he’d discussed other animals out at the barn, making her laugh when he mentioned some of the names he and a co-worker had given them.

His chuckle had stopped at one point when he gazed at her, a confused look crossing his face. He’d gotten up for more coffee then. They’d spoken few words after that before he left.

From the porch, she watched the last signs of his presence, a white haze rising above the shells his truck had just crossed.

Inside, she cleaned their dishes. Ready to dry and put them away, she smiled at their few things in the drain. She walked away from them.

Erin wiped off the table, then shoved in his chair, her hand lingering on it. This chair, at the head of the large table, was worn in places where he’d leaned back and sat, the warm feel of him seeming to remain on it.

She let go of his chair. She centered the vase on the table. Those roses obviously meant much to him, as did the ones growing out back. There were roses in some of the stained-glass windows. Had her aunt also loved them, or the plantation’s previous owners?

One thing was certain. Erin had to remain here today—and chill.

“In all this heat?” Erin asked, glancing up with a grin, imaging her aunt’s chuckle.

With nothing else to do, Erin meandered through the house. She paused in the office and peered at the desktop. Dane had said he’d come back because he needed something, yet when he went off, he took nothing that she’d seen. Maybe he’d put something in his pocket. Or had he only made an excuse to return? Could he possibly have wanted to see her?

The idea made her smile, until she noted the stairwell behind the desk. He’d said the door up there was locked, but was it? Maybe what he considered junk stored up there would be items her aunt left that would provide Erin with fond memories. Tilly’s brother would certainly come around soon to gather things that belonged to her. Anger burned in the pit of Erin’s stomach while she recalled his callous reaction to Tilly’s passing. But another family emergency that he hadn’t wanted to discuss with Erin had probably kept him away.

Right now, Erin decided she could revisit her aunt by viewing items she’d stored.

She climbed the stairs, taking quick steps at first and then slowing when she angled into the darkened corner. Up ahead stood an old narrow white door. Erin found an old-fashioned keyhole in it, but no key. She turned the knob, pushed, and pulled. The door didn’t budge.

Maybe the key was in that desk below. Erin eyed the stair railing, easily imagining children laughing while they slid down it. And that upstairs room, with its slender door, would be perfect for a child to enter.

She shook her head, getting rid of the picture of happy children, and walked back down the steps.

Her trek through the house took her back to the master bedroom. She peered at the dressing table, deciding many of her aunt’s belongings would be inside its drawers. She’d like to go through those items, but Tilly’s brother and his family should do that. Erin may have often thought of herself as a daughter to Tilly, but she wasn’t as close a family member as Tilly’s brother. Surely he’d do the right thing now and take care of Tilly’s belongings, but if he didn’t, Erin would come back and see about them herself.

She had already peeked into the armoire. Returning to it now, she shivered. The door was locked. When she’d closed it before, she hadn’t turned the key.

Her head turned toward the room Dane slept in. He’d been the only other person in this part of the house. Why would he come back in here and lock this?

He was a person with many secrets, she decided, finding herself wishing he were with her again. Erin noted the room’s darkness, even with the overhead lights on. She opened the green louvered doors and walked out to the porch.

The screened porch had been created for only the two people who shared this bedroom. A pair of thickly cushioned chairs sat close to each other, small tables on either side of them. Erin sat in a chair. Planters on the porch held brown shriveled stalks. She’d seen similar plants on the small back porch. Unhappiness gripped her, and she shrugged it off. She couldn’t recall aunt being especially fond of gardening.

Erin stared outside. Tall plants with wide leaves grew outside the porch, and flowering bushes dotted the landscape surrounding the curved shell road from the highway. Branches from massive oaks sheltered that road, with their moss swaying with the slight breeze. Dane would approach this house from that shell road whenever he’d return from a trip into town.

Erin pushed her head farther back against the soft cushion, imaging his truck heralding his return home. From this viewpoint, she could watch him. She’d anticipate his parking, and then he’d dash up here.

“Okay, you have too much of an imagination,” she told herself, shoving up from the lounger. Maybe she
should
write a book.

The urge to see him again probably stemmed from the quiet overwhelming her, she told herself. She returned inside, grabbed her purse, and hurried out to her rental car.

Heading toward the fields, she glanced at the barn and saw animals but no sign of a vet or a cow in trouble. Empathy swelled, making her wish she knew how to help the expectant mother. She really wanted to see Dane.

She passed the cottages and spied Joanie and her son Jason in the yard, exchanging waves with them long before she spotted Dane’s truck. He’d parked at the far end of a grassy road between sections of dirt rows holding stubble. Erin pulled in and parked.

A large piece of field equipment sat at an angle. Dane and an older man stopped working on the machine and watched her approach.

“Hi,” she said to both of them.

“Did you have a problem?” Dane asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“No. I just hadn’t seen you in so long, I had to drive out and see you again.”

Pleasure lit his eyes, and the corners of his lips lifted. His happiness at seeing her looked just as she’d pictured from the bedroom’s porch. For a moment she imaged only the two of them together.

Dane introduced his partner and her, adding, “She’s Tilly’s niece, down for the funeral. And just staying a couple of extra days.”

His partner tipped his baseball cap. “Nice to meet you. I really liked Tilly.”

“Thanks,” Erin said, her pleasure vanishing. She had adored her aunt. And did Dane have to stress that she would only be here a little while longer?

“We were trying to get more new cane down,” he said, “and this planter got ornery.”

“But we’re fixing it up,” his helper said. “Dane’s real good at repairing things.”

Erin noted the dirt row they stood on and spotted some on Dane’s boots. They looked exactly like the worn brown leather ones she’d seen muddy in the closet in her bedroom.

Her gaze ran to Dane’s expressionless face, a bolt of concern swishing through her. Could he be a thief?

“I’ll let you both get back to your work,” she said, hurrying to her car. She backed up and turned toward the house, mulling. He had said this place was his, and maybe he knew what Tilly and Cliff might have put in a will. But would that also make him immediate owner of Cliff’s things?

Erin reached the house, flew up the stairs and ran inside, not stopping until she reached the master bedroom. She yanked open the closet door.

The dirty boots no longer sat on the floor. She skimmed the hanging clothes. The new shirt with the Tabasco logo was also gone.

With shaky hands, she grabbed a pair of men’s jeans from a hanger and held them up in front of her.

The waistline was larger than hers, and the length of the pants much longer than her own.
Could these jeans fit Dane?

Possibly
, she determined, putting them back into place. And they might also have fit Cliff, whom she’d never had the pleasure of seeing. But somewhere, there must be a picture of him and her aunt.

Erin scurried through the house. She looked for a photo but found only pictures of flowers and plantation scenes on the walls and some mantles. They were nice pictures, some in antique black and white, but none of real people.

In the bedroom where Dane slept, she found no closet. She’d passed through this room before but hadn’t stopped to study it. Now she saw his bed unmade, the clothes he’d worn tossed on a stuffed chair. She turned away from them, noting that the only place to hang shirts and other garments was an armoire, not as ornate as the one in the master bedroom. She tried the armoire’s door and found it locked, no key in sight.

Erin ambled through the house, pausing on the tiny back porch. She unlocked the screen door and went out, turning to the rose garden behind the house.

Dane had been out there last night, and he’d been angry, making those noises she’d heard.

Her walk down the path behind the bedrooms led Erin to what he’d thrown. Rocks lay scattered near a large wooden cistern that had probably once caught rain water for the people living in the house.

This house, she determined, eyeing the diamond-shaped stained glass window that allowed more light into the bathroom off the master bedroom, gave off little feeling of real life. She worked hard to envision her sprightly aunt in that house, but in the end, couldn’t. Only the image of Dane came, with him shuffling through darkened rooms, not caring much about them.

Erin sighed, confused. She had probably envisioned only him because he was the sole person she’d seen in that house, except for a brief time with Mom Bea.

If only she knew Mom Bea’s phone number or even her last name, she could call her and maybe get together for the day. The spry woman was fun to be with, reminding Erin of her aunt.

Allowing herself time to stroll through paths between the rose bushes, Erin stopped to enjoy the heady fragrance of some. She paused to admire the unique coloring of others. Who wouldn’t have been happy to be in this place hidden by trees overhanging the garden’s outer edges? Vines winding through them displayed more great color, with bright purples and scented yellows.

Erin sauntered out of the garden refreshed, as though she had just been allowed to spend time in a place of beauty that satisfied all of her senses.

A glance over her shoulder let her recall Dane’s fury. He might consider that place a hidden garden where no outsider should trespass. She’d certainly learned that he didn’t want anyone to cut its flowers.

He
was
an angry man, she realized. And whatever was causing him to live with that anger didn’t allow him to let go of the inner smoldering for more than a few minutes at a time.

Sympathy washed through Erin as she wondered what had caused him such grief. Why did he keep closing himself off, remaining such a man of mystery?

The man working with Dane said he was good at repairing things. “But he’s not doing well at fixing himself,” Erin said, heading for her car. She wanted to visit her aunt’s grave before she returned home. That would be tomorrow or the next day, depending on what her impish aunt wrote as instructions on her next page.

Erin slowed her step, the concept of flying away from here making sorrow sweep through her. Why did the thought of leaving make her so sad? She didn’t have a job to go back to, but she did have the apartment and big city in which to apply.

Dane had set roses in front of a grave the first time she’d seen him. Erin rushed to her car and headed for the highway into town. She would visit her aunt one final time. And while at the graveyard, she would also locate the tomb where Dane had left his flowers.

Chapter Fourteen

Erin parked outside the cemetery, trepidation filling her. She stepped beneath moss-draped trees, the rows of white buildings ahead like so many tiny houses, except for a wide cross that topped each one.

On the fourth row, sprays of flowers attracted her down the grassy path to the grave she stood before three days ago. The floral arrangements had all been set in front of the tomb, now sealed with marble.
Cliff Aucoin
said the bottom name. The top name:
Angelica “Tilly” Aucoin
.

“Hi,” Erin said with a slight smile when she saw her aunt’s nickname. Her smile faded. The finality of her mother figure’s death dashed in, making Erin catch her breath. This woman she’d adored was around no more. She would never again see Tilly’s face lit with those contagious smiles, never feel secure within her warm arms.

The void made Erin’s heart ache. Grief grabbed her shoulders and swept through her, making her body shake. Unable to stop the great sobs, she released them.

She cried until long moments later the tears subsided, and she wiped them from her cheeks. She prayed for Tilly and Cliff. She touched her aunt’s name. “I’ll miss you. Oh, I miss you now.” The sweet scent of the speckled lilies wafted to her, and she recalled words from the first page of her aunt’s instructions. Don’t be sad. I am happily now reunited with my dear husband Cliff. What a great love that been.

Erin fingered the bumpy surface of one lily, leaning close to allow its fragrance to fill her. She moved away from the tomb, casting her gaze at others she passed. French names were engraved on some grave fronts, with many holding a list of family members. The tomb she stopped in front of bore only one name carved in marble. That name—
Anna Cancienne
—sent understanding and empathy rippling through her.

Anna had been only twenty-eight when her life ended almost two years ago. And standing in the large vase in front of her tomb were the yellow velvety roses Dane had been holding, the petals now droopy.

Erin said a prayer for the woman who had met such an untimely death.