Mercy (10 page)

S
t. Claire, Louisiana, was easy for Theo to find. Bowen was impossible. There weren’t any signs pointing the way, and as Jake had indicated, the little town wasn’t on a map. Loath to admit that he was lost and needed directions — a genetic flaw passed down to the males in the family, according to his sisters, Jordan and Sydney — Theo drove around in circles until he was almost out of gas and had to stop. When he went inside the filling station to pay, he broke down and asked the attendant if he happened to know where Bowen was located.

The freckle-faced, slightly cross-eyed teenager nodded enthusiastically. “I sure do know where Bowen is. Are you new in town?” Before Theo could answer, the boy asked another question. “Are you looking for the new high school? It’s over on Clement Street. Hey, I bet you are.” He paused to give Theo the once-over, then squinted up at him and nodded. “I know why you’re here.”

“You do?”

“Sure I do. You’re interviewing for the coaching job, aren’t you? Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re answering the ad, aren’t you? We heard someone was maybe interested, and it’s you, right? It wasn’t a rumor after all. We really need help ’cause Mr. Freeland — he’s the music teacher, but I guess you already know that — doesn’t know squat about football. So are you going to take the job?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why not? You haven’t even seen the place yet. I don’t think it’s right to make up your mind before you even see the place.”

Theo’s patience was wearing thin. “I’m not a football coach.”

The teenager wasn’t buying it. “You look like you ought to be a coach. You got the shoulders, like maybe you used to play some football when you were young.”

When he was young? Just how old did the kid think he was? “Look, all I want is directions —”

The teenager cut him off. “Oh, I get it,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Get what?” Theo asked in spite of his better judgment.

“It’s a secret, isn’t it? I mean, until the position is filled, it’s like a secret. You know, when the principal announces his choice at the big rally in a couple of weeks. By the way, Coach, my name’s Jerome Kelly, but everyone calls me Kevin on account of that’s my middle name.” He reached across the counter to shake Theo’s hand. “It sure is nice to meet you.”

Theo clenched his jaw. “I’m just trying to find Bowen. Are you going to tell me where it is or not?”

Kevin put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay. You don’t need to get mad at me. But it is a secret, right?”

Theo decided to agree just to get the boy off the subject. “Yeah, right. It’s a secret. Now, where’s Bowen?”

Kevin was grinning from ear to ear. “You see that?” he asked, pointing to the street in front of the station.

“What?”

“That street.”

“Sure I see it.”

Kevin nodded again. “That’s Elm Street, but there aren’t any elms on it. I’m a kicker.”

“You’re a what?”

“A kicker. Mr. Freeland says that ought to be my position on the team. I can kick a football forty yards without breaking a sweat.”

“Is that right?”

“I could be your punt returner too. I’m that fast.”

“Listen, Kevin, I’m not the new football coach.”

“Yeah, I know, and I won’t tell anybody until it’s officially announced. You can count on me, Coach.”

“Where’s Bowen?” His voice now had a real bite in it.

“I was just getting to that,” he said. “Now, if you drive on this side of Elm Street, the east side,” he qualified as he pointed out the window again, “then you’re in St. Claire. If you don’t know which way is east and which way is west — I sometimes have trouble with that — you’ll know you’re in St. Claire if you see sidewalks. Bowen doesn’t have any sidewalks.”

Theo gritted his teeth. “And where exactly
is
Bowen?”

“I’m telling you,” he promised. “Now, if you cross Elm Street, like if you were walking . . .?”

Theo really hated this kid. “Yeah?”

“There you are.”

“Where?”

“In Bowen. Get it? One side of Elm Street is St. Claire, and the other side is Bowen. It’s as simple as that. I sure hope you’ll give me a shot at kicker. I’d be a real asset to the team.”

Theo counted out the bills for the gas and asked, “Have you ever heard of a bar called The Swan?”

“Sure,” he said. “Everyone knows The Swan. It’s a big old place tucked in the swamp, clear on the other side of Bowen. It’s got a big swan on top. You can’t miss it once you find it.”

“So tell me how to find it.”

Kevin came through this time with directions. When he was finished describing the convoluted route, he said, “You know the people in St. Claire like to think of Bowen as their suburb, but that really pisses off the people of Bowen. Oh . . . sorry. I probably shouldn’t say ‘pisses off’ in front of faculty.”

Theo pocketed his change, thanked Kevin for his help, and headed back to the car. Kevin chased after him. “Sir, what’s your name?”

“Theo Buchanan.”

“Don’t forget,” he called out.

“Forget what?”

“That I should be your kicker.”

Theo grinned. “I won’t forget.”

Kevin waited until the car had pulled out onto Elm, then raced back inside to call his friends. He wanted to be the first to tell the secret news about Coach Buchanan.

Ten minutes later Theo was driving down yet another seemingly endless unmarked gravel road. On either side were lush foliage and cypress trees with grayish green moss dripping from each branch. It was hot outside and terribly humid, but it was so beautiful and peaceful Theo rolled down the window to take in the sweet, earthy scents.

He could see murky water beyond the trees as he continued on the road at a snail’s pace. He wanted to stop the car and simply sit there and take it all in. What a great place to do some exploring on foot, he thought. That thought led to another. Didn’t alligators live in the swamp? Hell, yes, they did. Forget hiking anywhere.

What was he doing here? Why had he come all this way just to go fishing? Because she was here, he admitted, and he was suddenly feeling foolish. He considered turning the car around and going back to New Orleans. Yeah, that’s what he should do. If he hurried, he could catch a late flight and be back in Boston by midnight. Wasn’t that where he belonged? If he wanted to fish, he could take his boat out on the ocean and do some serious “catch a whale” kind of fishing.

He was nuts, that’s what he was. He was just plain nuts. He knew what he should do, and yet he kept driving.

The road curved again, and suddenly there it was, The Swan, straight ahead at the end of the lane. The second he saw the building, he burst into laughter. Honest to God, he’d never seen anything like it. The building had gray corrugated sides and a pitched metal roof. It looked more like a big old barn, and a bit off-kilter at that, but the charm was definitely in the huge swan perched on top of the roof.

Only, it wasn’t a swan at all. It was a hot pink flamingo, and one wing was hanging precariously by a thin metal wire.

There was an old battered Ford pickup parked in the gravel lot. Theo parked his car next to it, got out, and removed his suit jacket. He was rolling up the sleeves of his blue dress shirt and walking to the entrance before he remembered he’d worn the suit jacket to conceal the gun and holster clipped to his belt. It was too hot and muggy to put his jacket back on. He decided not to worry about the gun being noticeable. Michelle already knew he carried a weapon. Besides, he was too busy trying to figure out what he was going to say to Jake when he asked him why he was there. He wondered if the old man would appreciate hearing the truth. I’ve become obsessed with your daughter. Oh, yeah, the truth would set him free, all right, and no doubt get him punched in the nose.

The door was half open. Theo pushed it wider and walked inside. He spotted Jake Renard behind the bar, a dishcloth in his hand, wiping down the varnished wooden counter. Theo removed his sunglasses, tucked them into his shirt pocket next to his reading glasses, and nodded to the man. He hoped Jake would remember him and was trying to figure out what to say to him if he didn’t. What was the other reason he’d driven to Bowen? Fishing. Yeah, that was it. He wanted to go fishing.

Jake did remember him. The second he spotted Theo, he let out a hoot like a country singer about to break into song. Then he grinned from ear to ear, dropped the dishcloth, wiped his hands on his overalls, and came rushing around the counter.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said. “Well, I’ll be.” “How are you doing, Jake?”

“Just fine, Theo. I’m doing just fine. You come to fish?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

Jake shook Theo’s hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “I sure am happy to see you. I was telling Ellie just the other night that we’d be running into one another again, and here you are, plain as day.”

Theo knew who Ellie was. Jake had mentioned his wife when he had visited with him in the hospital.

“How is your wife?” he asked politely.

Jake looked startled but quickly recovered, then said, “My wife passed on, God rest her soul, a good while back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Theo said, growing more confused. “If you don’t mind my asking, who is Ellie?”

“My wife.”

“Oh, then you remarried.”

“No, I never had the urge to marry again after my Ellie died. I didn’t think I could ever find anyone who could measure up to her.” He paused to smile. “I just knew you’d show up on your own. I thought about calling you, but I knew Mike would have my hide if I did, and besides, I figured you’d find a way to come out to Bowen.”

Theo didn’t know what to make of the old man’s comments. Then Jake said, “I knew once I put the notion of fishing in your head, you’d figure out a way to take a couple of days off. A true fisherman can’t ever say no, no matter how long it’s been since he’s held a fishing pole in his hand. Isn’t that the way of it?”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“If you turn out to be a natural-born fisherman — and I’ve got a feeling you are — then I may have to pair myself with you in the tournament coming on next weekend. I’ve always partnered up with my friend Walter, but Mike had to yank his gallbladder out yesterday, and he isn’t going to be in any shape to pull his weight. He’s already told me to find someone else. You’ll still be here, won’t you?”

“I hadn’t thought about how long I’d stay in Bowen.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll stay on.”

Theo laughed. “What kind of tournament are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s a big affair around here,” he said. “Once a year, all the fishermen come from miles around to compete. Everyone puts in fifty dollars cash,” he added. “It adds up to quite a hefty prize, and I’ve been wanting to beat old Lester Burns and his brother Charlie for the past five years. They’ve taken the ribbon and the cash prize every single year since we started the tournament. They’ve got the fancy equipment, which gives them the advantage. The rules aren’t complicated,” he added. “You just catch your quota, and the judge weighs them out in front of the crowd at the end of the day. Afterwards there’s a party with good Cajun food right here at The Swan. Say, what do you think of my place?” he asked. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Theo looked around with interest. The sun streaming in through the open windows beat down on the hardwood floors. Tables had been placed against the wall, their chairs stacked on top. There was a bucket with a mop propped against the corner of the bar, and to the left was a jukebox. Overhead fans made a clicking sound as the blades slowly circled. The room was surprisingly cool given the temperature outside.

“It’s very nice,” he remarked.

“We do a heck of a business come the weekend,” Jake said. “Yes, sir, it sure is good to see you, son. Michelle’s going to be pleased too. She’s mentioned you more than once.”

For some reason that bit of news was inordinately nice to hear. “How’s she doing? I saw Dr. Cooper and he told me her clinic was vandalized.”

“They tried to destroy the place is what they did,” he said. “No rhyme or reason to it. They didn’t take anything, just turned it upside down. Poor Mike hasn’t had time to do more than look over the wreck. She saw the clinic this morning. Just as soon as she got home and changed her clothes, she got called back for another surgery. She hasn’t had a minute to sort out the mess and tell her brother and me what she wants us to do to help clean it all up. I’m telling you, she’s been run ragged. I expect her to keel over any second now.”

“I’m doing just fine, Daddy.”

Theo turned at the sound of her voice, and there she was, standing in the doorway, smiling at the two men. She was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a burgundy-and-white rugby shirt that was spotted with paint.

He tried not to stare at her legs, but, damn, it took work. They were incredible. Long, shapely . . . amazing.

“What are you doing in Bowen, Mr. Buchanan?” Michelle asked, hoping to heaven her voice was calm. Finding him in her father’s bar had shaken her, and when he turned and smiled at her, she thought her knees were going to buckle. Her heart started fluttering, and she was pretty sure she was blushing. And why not? As the nurses in the OR had said, Theo Buchanan was drop-dead gorgeous.