Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (15 page)

“Réne Cantrelle! You sure won’t! You’re sixty-eight years old. You’re retired. There are lots of employees to take care of the work! Besides, you’ll be coming to Baton Rouge with me every day, okay? Norman’s going to need us.”

Neil suppressed another grin. His mother was working herself into a state. But she was right about Norman needing them.

“Employees don’ feel the same way about the business as we do,” his father said mildly. He looked at Neil, a question in his eyes.

Neil evaded his gaze. He knew what his father wanted. Normally Neil wouldn’t have hesitated. He’d have volunteered to help out with the business for as long as it took. There was nothing in Florida that couldn’t wait for him. But with this dangerous attraction he felt for Laura, he knew he would be asking for trouble if he worked with her on a daily basis.

“Neil will help out until Norman is well again, okay?” his mother said, her voice firm, her dark eyes meeting Neil’s.

“I don’t think that’s--”

“It’s perfect,” she continued as if Neil hadn’t spoken. “You don’ have no reason to hurry back to Florida.” She smiled happily. “In fact, now that you’re home again— where you belong—there’s no reason to go back to Florida at all. Okay?”

“Mama--”

“Cantrelles, they don’ run away from their problems.”

“Mama, you know as well as I do—”

“This is where you belong.”

Neil sighed in defeat. There was no talking to her. “Mama, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.”

“No better time,” she said stubbornly.

“You’re too emotional just now.”

“Who’s emotional? I’m not emotional. I’m just stating the truth, okay?”

“Can we discuss this some other time? It’s starting to rain.” As if to emphasize his point, a fat raindrop splattered on the roof of his mother’s Plymouth wagon.

After Réne helped her into the car, he turned to Neil again. “You’re a grown man, Neil. You gotta make your own decisions. If you want to go back to Florida, me, I won’t try to stop you. But, you know, I feel I must tell you that I agree with your mama. We both think you should stay. We both
want
you to stay.”

Neil felt torn between his love for them and his good sense. “Thanks, Papa,” he said.

“But, me, I need you right now. Will you promise to stay at least until Norman is well enough to go back to work?”

How could he say no? He owed them. He owed them for all the years they’d loved him and supported him. “Of course.”

A big grin split his father’s face, and he hugged Neil.

As Neil waved them on their way, he knew he’d had no other choice.

* * *

Laura’s soreness had finally disappeared. It was nice to be able to lift her arm to blow dry her hair without feeling pain. As she shut off the blow-dryer, Phoebe hopped up onto the vanity. “Myup,” she said as she watched Laura fluff her hair.

“Myup, yourself.” Laura gave the cat an affectionate head rub, then stooped to nuzzle her face in the thick fur. “You know I’m going out, don’t you?” She was spending the evening with the Cantrelles, first going with them to the hospital to see Norman, then going back to Réne and Arlette’s home for a late supper, then on to midnight mass. Laura knew she should try to avoid Neil’s company but Denise had insisted, saying Christmas Eve was no time to be alone.

“Norman would have brought you along if he wasn’t in the hospital, you know that,” Denise said, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “Of course you’ll be with us. And you’ll be with us Christmas Day, too! ”

Laura knew that look, and since she couldn’t tell Denise the real reason she’d offered resistance to the invitation, she gave in.
And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that’s exactly what you wanted to do, anyway. You want to be around Neil. Even though you know it’s not very smart.

The cat purred and Laura, sighing, lifted her and placed her gently on the floor. She only hoped she could keep her emotions safely controlled tonight. She thought she’d managed fairly well the few times she’d seen Neil since the kiss they’d shared, but each of those times they’d been alone. She hadn’t had to deal with the presence of others.

She pressed her hands against her stomach. Just thinking about him made her insides flutter alarmingly.
Oh, Laura. You’re a mess.
Why had this happened? Why, of all the people in the world, did she have to feel this hopeless longing for Neil Cantrelle?

She wondered about him. How did he feel? Was he half as confused as she was? That he felt something for her, she was sure of. She thought about the flowers he’d bought her, and the book. She thought about how she’d felt the other morning when she accidentally ran into him. If she’d entertained any notion that she could handle her feelings for him, that meeting had squashed it. The minute she saw him, running lightly down the steps with surefooted grace, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck sweater under his bomber jacket, she’d known she was lost. Her heart beat faster, and her stomach curled, and all she could think about was the way she felt when he kissed her.

And now here she was, getting ready to spend Christmas Eve with him and his family. How would she keep her equilibrium surrounded by the love and warmth and intimacy of their family circle, a circle she could now never be a part of? She’d have to keep telling herself that she was the outsider, that if Norman’s family guessed how she felt about Neil, they’d close ranks very quickly.

But even as she told herself these hard truths, she couldn’t prevent herself from trying to look as attractive as possible, and she carefully applied makeup and took pains with her hair. Then she looked at her image in her full- length mirror. She was wearing one of her few dresses, a soft cranberry wool with a high neck and long sleeves and gently flaring skirt. The color gave her skin a rosy glow, and the simple lines of the dress were flattering.

Sighing again, she turned away from the mirror.

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the back seat of Denise and Jett’s car, on her way to Baton Rouge and the hospital. When they arrived, Laura was grateful to find they were the first of the family to get there. Somehow she knew it would be easier for her if she were already in Norman’s room, their first awkward greetings behind them, when Neil and his parents arrived.

The hospital rules had been bent for the holidays, and all of them were allowed into Norman’s room at once. The hospital staff had decorated each room with a wreath on the door and a red bow at the foot of the bed. In addition, Norman had a small Christmas tree that Laura knew his parents had brought, the poinsettia she’d sent to him, and an arrangement of red and white carnations and greenery with a red Christmas candle in the middle. The flowers immediately reminded Laura of the ones Neil had given her, but she pushed the thought aside. Someone had sprayed pine scent in the room, for the room smelled Christmasy.

“Well,” Denise said brightly as the three of them trooped in, “your room certainly looks festive.” She bent over the bed to kiss Norman’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Norman.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said. Over the top of Denise’s head, his eyes met Laura’s, and they contained a spark of joy he didn’t try to hide.

There was a lump in her throat as she too bent over him. She clasped his hand and squeezed it. “Merry Christmas, Norman,” she whispered. She kissed his cheek.

“You, too.” His hand gripped hers tightly. “Thanks for coming.”

The emotional moment passed as Jett greeted Norman, and Laura and Denise sat down—Denise on the bottom edge of the bed and Laura against the windowsill.

Norman looked much better than he had a week ago, Laura thought, with more color in his face. But he was much thinner.

“How are you feeling?” Denise asked.

Just as Norman started to answer, Nicole, followed by Réne and Arlette, with Neil bringing up the rear, entered the room. During the flurry of greetings, Laura steeled herself. When Neil said, “Hello, Laura. Merry Christmas,” she was proud of herself for her light response and the elaborately casual way she delivered it. “Hi! Merry Christmas!”

Neil stood by Norman’s bed, facing her, so that she couldn’t look at Norman without looking at him. She also couldn’t help but see how happy it made Norman to have Neil there. It was obvious to everyone how much they cared about each other.

“You’ll never guess who came to see me today,” Norman said, looking up at Neil.

“Who?”

“Alice Kendella.”

Neil smiled.

“Jimmy’s wife?” Denise asked.

Laura looked at Neil. Jimmy. That was the partner he had told her about. The one who had died.

“Yeah. We were in the same class in high school,” Norman said. “She said you’d been over to see her, Neil, that you’d told her about me.”

“Yes. I’ve been there a couple of times.”

“She’s sure a nice person,” Norman said. “She brought me those flowers.” He gestured toward the arrangement of carnations. “And a couple of books to read.”

“Yes, she’s terrific,” Neil agreed.

“Pretty, too,” Jett said. “She comes into the restaurant every now and then with those two kids of hers.”

“Hey,” Denise said, “you’re not supposed to notice things like that. You’re a married man.”

“Married, but not dead,” Jett said, laughing as Denise punched him playfully on the arm. Then, with a sly smile on his face, he added, “She’s got a sexy voice, too. Reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. Come to think of it, she even looks a little like Marilyn.”

Both Neil and Norman grinned at Denise’s indignant, “Hmph!” but Laura couldn’t help the sharp stab of jealousy she felt over the unknown Alice Kendella, who had managed to produce such a look of admiration on Neil’s face.

For the rest of their visit with Norman, Laura was sunk into depression. She had no right to feel jealous over anyone, she knew that. She would never have that right, so she might as well get used to it, for if Neil stayed in Louisiana, she was bound to see him with other women. Unhappiness, like a giant wave, engulfed her at this dismal prospect.

Finally their visit was over. Everyone kissed or hugged Norman goodbye and then they were all walking out together.

“Laura,
chére,
” Arlette said. “You’ll ride back with us, okay?”

“Oh, no. I came with Denise and Jett,” Laura protested. That’s all she’d need, sitting for more than a half hour in the back seat of the car with Neil. “I’ll ride back with them, too.”

“They’re going to pick up the children at Jett’s mother’s house,” Arlette said.

“Yes,” Denise piped in. “There’s no sense in you having to ride over there with us. Plus, knowing Mama Hebert, she’ll want us to stay awhile. You go on with Mama and Papa.”

Cornered, Laura didn’t argue. And, of course, as if everything and everyone were conspiring against her, Nicole slid into the front seat between her parents, and Laura found herself in the back with Neil. The ride to Patinville was pure torment. She was acutely aware of Neil, only inches away, and the intimacy and warmth of the car only intensified that awareness. She was conscious of every movement he made and had to force herself not to look at him. They were so close she could smell his after-shave, something spicy and clean. Her heart refused to beat calmly, like it was supposed to, and instead skipped around like a crazy thing.

I can’t take this. I can’t. I can’t stand being around him like this.
But even as this thought swirled through her mind, she knew she really had no choice.

I could leave Patinville. Quit my job and go away.
But could she? Norman needed her. All anyone had to do was look at his face tonight when she’d walked into his hospital room to know how he felt about her. Could she just walk out on him, walk out on his family? Aside from Norman personally, there was the business. Laura knew more about the office than anyone else. How could she leave? As a responsible adult and an honorable person, how could she let both Norman and his family down?

Laura bit her lip and stared out the window the rest of the way to Patinville.

* * *

The smell of incense and burning candles was the first thing Neil noticed as he walked behind Laura and his family into St. Anthony’s. Although he hadn’t been inside a church in years, the sounds and smells were as familiar to him as his boyhood home, and he could feel the years slipping away as memories came flooding back.

He’d spent countless Sundays here. Sundays filled with sunshine and the hot, still air of summer that floated through the open windows, and the whirring sound of the fans that were ineffectual in attempts to cool the church. He remembered how, as a small boy, he’d been restless and noisy, fidgeting through the service, and how his mother would glare at him with narrowed eyes that told him to be still or else. Then, as a teenager, how he’d doze through the homily and yawn his way through the rest of the Mass.

As a child he had spent more time at St. Anthony’s than he’d spent anywhere else, except his own home. Father Richard, dead for years now, had been an ex-basketball player, and he’d encouraged the boys in the parish to hang around the school yard where he could easily be persuaded to join them in a pickup game at any time of the day or evening.

Neil had been an altar boy, too, and for a while, when he was about ten, he fantasized about becoming a priest, but the idea faded as he grew older and finally disappeared altogether. Neil smiled wryly. He would have been a terrible priest, doubting everything.

The church was only about half-full, but they were early. It was only eleven-thirty. By midnight, Neil knew, St. Anthony’s would be packed. His father stopped at the first empty pew and motioned Nicole in, then he went next, followed by Neil’s mother, then Laura, and finally Neil. It didn’t surprise him that he’d ended up next to her. That seemed to be the way the entire evening had gone, and he had no doubt that nothing would be different tomorrow.

He was very aware of her as they sat shoulder to shoulder and listened to the choir sing “The Little Drummer Boy.” When they began, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,” Laura joined in, and Neil was struck by the sweetness of her voice, pure and clear and light as the bells of her brass wind chimes, as it lifted into the air and mingled with the voices of the other worshipers.