Needing Nicole (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy Book 2) (24 page)

Nicole nodded slowly. “When you trust the other person completely...when no matter what you might tell them, they won’t judge you, and they won’t love you less. It’s when they won’t betray you.”

“Exactly,” Jenny said. “Elise and I were like kindred spirits. We recognized the same need in each other, and although it took time, we grew closer and closer. Elise began to confide in me, but unfortunately, she needed more help than I could even begin to give her. She needed counseling, professional expertise I didn’t have, and I was afraid she’d never have the strength to break away from Derek.”

“But she
did
break away.”

Jenny nodded, her forehead knit in thought. “That’s the way it looks now. I just hope... you don’t think there’s any chance Derek was
pretending
he thought you were Elise, do you?”

“You mean to throw us off the scent, or something?”

“Yes.”

Nicole remembered the ugly fury in Derek Arnold’s voice as he screamed at Jack, the obscenities he’d spewed, the hate in his eyes when she’d come at him. “I don’t think anyone is that good an actor. No, he really believed I was his wife. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

Jenny’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank God. I guess there was still some small part of me that was afraid to believe it. I guess all we have to do now is figure out where she is and try to get her word that Derek can no longer harm her.”

Nicole went back to work on Thursday. Jack was released from the hospital on Friday. On Saturday he insisted that he, Jenny and Nicole drive over to Abbeville to try to locate Elise Arnold’s aunt. Nicole and Jenny agreed, on the condition that Nicole would drive.

So Saturday, at noon, the three of them were in the Abbeville post office, and Nicole was sweet-talking the postmistress, a short, plump Cajun lady with salt-and-pepper hair and a missing front tooth. She was standing behind a barred window, and wearing a name tag that read: Estelle Dubois.

“Marie Sonnier?” the postmistress said. She nodded her head up and down.
“Oh, mais oui, chere,
I remember Marie Sonnier. But she hasn’t lived here in Abbeville for a long time,
chere.
No, she’s been gone at least ten years.” Nicole’s heart sank. “Oh, dear...”

“But I’ll bet Octave could tell you where she went,
chere.”

“Octave?”

Estelle Dubois grinned. “Octave Arceneaux, our letter carrier.” She turned, shouted, “Octave! Octave! Come up here. A pretty girl wants to talk to you.” Her grin got wider. “Old Octave, he still likes the pretty girls!”

Jack, who was standing off to the side, chuckled. “Who doesn’t?”

Nicole gave him a mock frown, her heart giving a little blip when she saw the expression in his eyes. She hurriedly looked away. Behind her, Jenny laughed softly.

A small, skinny man who looked to be in his sixties came shuffling slowly to the window. He looked at Nicole, his dark eyes lighting up.

“This here is Nicole Cantrelle from Baton Rouge way, Octave, and she’s lookin’ to find old Marie Sonnier. I told her you pro’bly could tell her where Marie is.”

Octave nodded, his wispy hair falling across his deeply tanned face. “You a frien’ of Marie’s,
chere?”

“I’m a friend of her niece’s,” Nicole answered.

“Well, ol’ Marie, she’s in a nursin’ home up in Acadia Parish.” He frowned. “Lemme see if I can remember ’xactly. She’s stayin’ in a home run by the Ursuline nuns. I believe it’s in Evangeline, or right outside Evangeline. Marie, she used to have mail forwarded to her, but these past five, six years, nothin’s come for her, so I don’t rightly remember.” He gave Nicole an apologetic look. “In fact, I don’t rightly know if old Marie is still alive. If she is, she’d be mebbee eighty-seven, eighty-eight years old.”

Nicole thanked him and thanked the postmistress. Then she and Jack and Jenny walked outside where they talked for a few minutes. “How many nursing homes can there be near Evangeline?” Jack mused.

“Let’s call Evangeline information and see,” Nicole suggested.

“Will they tell us that kind of thing?” Jenny asked.

“Let me try,” Nicole said.

They found a pay phone, and Jack and Jenny waited in the car while Nicole phoned. Five minutes later, gleeful, she rejoined them. “Success! The only nursing home around there is the Ursuline Home for Women. It’s right on Route 97.”

Jack looked at his map. “It looks like it might take us about an hour to get there.”

“Could we have some lunch first?” Nicole said. Her stomach had growled twice in the past ten minutes.

“Hey, you’re the driver,” he countered, eyes twinkling.

Nicole’s silly heart gave another lurch. Oh, she was in a bad way if she couldn’t even have a normal conversation or exchange a look with him without having that lovesick feeling sweep over her.

They ate lunch at a roadside cafe. Jenny and Nicole opted for spicy bowls of gumbo, but Jack insisted on red beans and rice. The waitress, a pretty girl with red hair and freckles, said, “I know you’re a tourist.”

“How do you know?” Jack said, winking at Nicole.

“Red beans and rice is what the natives eat on Mondays,” the waitress said. “Not Saturdays.”

After the waitress left, Nicole explained. “For Cajun women, red beans could be put on in the morning, simmer all day while they did the laundry, then be a good, filling meal to give their families that night. And even though modern-day Cajun women no longer stay at home and do their wash on Mondays, the tradition is so ingrained that all true-blue Cajuns, and most of the rest of the population of Louisiana, still have red beans and rice on Mondays.”

“I could get to like it here,” Jack said, giving her a charged look.

There was that hollowed-out feeling again. Nicole shook it off. She’d better get used to him not being around, because her gut told her the closer they got to Marie Sonnier, the closer they got to Jack’s leaving.

They found the Ursuline Home for Women easily, although getting there wasn’t as simple as they thought it was going to be. Unfortunately, they had to take secondary roads most of the way, and they got caught behind several big open trucks loaded with sugar cane. Not only did they have to drive slowly until they could get around the trucks, but the roads were sticky with residue from fallen cane that had gotten smashed under the tires of passing cars.

So it was nearly three o’clock when they reached the large plantation-like setting of the nursing home. They drove through iron gates and up a driveway shaded by chinaberry trees wearing their brilliant yellow autumn foliage. It was a tranquil, lovely setting, and Nicole thought it might not be so bad to be old and sick if you could look out over this vista.

They parked Nicole’s car and walked up the broad front steps to the veranda. There were several old women wrapped in lap robes sitting on chairs in the afternoon sunshine. There was one attendant who nodded to them as they walked by.

“Let me do the talking,” Jack said as they entered the front door.

Nicole and Jenny exchanged glances. Jenny smiled, and Nicole smiled back. She knew Jack needed to feel he was once more in control. Ever since his injury, he’d been chomping at the bit. She wondered what he’d be like if he ever got really sick and incapacitated. His impatience and inability to remain inactive for long drove home the knowledge that Jack needed adventure, excitement, and most of all—challenge.

The two women hung back as Jack talked to the young woman sitting behind the reception desk. Nicole idly wondered if the woman was a nun. She was dressed in a plain blue skirt and white blouse and wore no makeup. Most telling of all, she didn’t preen the way most women did around a man as attractive as Jack. Yes, she must be a nun.

Jack smiled, and the woman stood. She walked briskly down the corridor and disappeared into a room at the end. Jack turned to Nicole and Jenny. He beckoned them forward. “She says Marie Sonnier is here,” he murmured as they approached. “But she has to check and see if it’s okay for us to talk with her.”

They waited a few minutes, and Nicole could see by the gleam in Jack’s eyes that he was excited. Like a hunter spying his prey, she thought. Jenny, however, looked apprehensive.

“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Nicole asked softly.

Jenny gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I know it’s silly, but for some reason, I’m scared.” She closed her eyes briefly, then said, “I’m praying we’ll get some information about Elise. I just want to know she’s all right.”

A few seconds later, the young receptionist returned. She turned kind green eyes on them. “Mother Clothilde said you may speak with Miss Marie, but only for a few moments. She’s very old, you know, and she’s nearly blind.”

They followed the receptionist down the hall, where she turned left and led them into another wing. Soon she pushed open a door and said, “Miss Marie. Some visitors for you.” A very frail, very wrinkled old woman sat in a wheelchair in front of a large window that overlooked the back of the property. Sunshine poured through the window and illuminated her face, which was feathered with hundreds of fine lines. Cloudy brown eyes turned in their direction, but Nicole could see that they were unfocused. “Visitors? Who are they?” she said in a shaky, high voice.

Jack spoke. “My name is Jack Forrester, Miss Sonnier. I work as an investigative journalist for World Press. My sister and I are friends of your great-niece, Elise Arnold. We’ve been looking for her for a long time, and our search brought us here to you.”

“Come here, come here,” the old woman said. “I can’t see very well, you know.” She made a sound like a snort. “I’m nearly ninety years old. I should be dead, but I’m not. People shouldn’t live to be ninety years old.”

Jack walked forward, followed by Nicole and Jenny. “Come closer,” Marie insisted, frowning. “I want to touch you. Give me your hand.”

Jack, with an amused backward glance at Jenny and Nicole, did as he was told. He held out his right hand and grasped Marie’s gnarled fingers. She laid her other hand on top of his and rubbed it. “Tell me what you want with my great-niece,” she ordered.

Nicole thought the old woman had a lot of spunk left in her for someone her age.

“My sister and I want to make sure she’s safe. We also want to let her know her husband will never be able to hurt her again.”

“Why not?” the old woman demanded.

Nicole stifled a giggle. She liked Marie Sonnier.

“Who’s that?” Marie turned her head in Nicole’s direction.

Jack shrugged. He motioned for Jenny and Nicole to come closer. “This is my sister, Jenny Wharton.”

“Hello, Miss Sonnier,” Jenny murmured.

“Speak up. Speak up!”

Jenny grinned. “I said hello, Miss Sonnier.”

Marie insisted on going through the hand-holding ritual once more. “Now who’s the other woman with you?” Nicole stepped forward. “I’m Nicole Cantrelle.”

“Cantrelle!” Marie’s eyes widened, and she peered forward.

“Yes. And I think Elise is my cousin.”

“Give me your hand,” Marie ordered. Nicole put her right hand out. When the old woman grasped her hand, Nicole had the oddest sensation, almost as if there were a silent communication between them. When Marie let her hand go, Nicole felt a sharp sense of loss.

“Lucy? Lucy? Are you still there?” Marie said.

The young receptionist, whom Nicole had forgotten about, walked into the room from her position by the open door. “I’m here, Miss Marie.”

“Make him show you some identification. I want to know these people are who they say they are.”

Jack pulled out his I.D., and Jenny reached inside her purse. Nicole did the same, handing Lucy her driver’s license. Lucy verified their identification.

Marie nodded, eyes narrowed. For long moments she remained still, lost in thought. The silence stretched. Faint noises, indicative of the nursing home’s routine, drifted into the room as they all waited.

“You’ll find her in Abbeville,” she finally said.

Jack and Jenny and Nicole all looked at one another. Abbeville. They’d just come from Abbeville. “Where?” Nicole and Jack said in unison.

“She’s living with the daughter of an old friend of mine— Cleoma Guidry. She’s going by the name of Elise Guidry.”

“Where do the Guidrys live?” Jack asked.

Marie closed her eyes, leaned her head against the back of the wheelchair. “Cleoma owns an antique shop. Only one in town. Ask anybody.”

“She’s very tired,” Lucy said. “You’d better go now.” Jack nodded. “Thank you, Miss Sonnier. Thank you very much.”

The old lady’s eyes fluttered open. “Goodbye. God bless you.”

Excitement gripped the three of them as they drove back to Abbeville, following the same painstakingly slow roads.

“The antique shop will be closed for the night,” Jack said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“But how many Guidrys can live in Abbeville?” Jenny said.

“Only about fifty or sixty,” Nicole said.

Jack laughed. “So it might be a long night.”

It was dark by the time they drove into the small town. As they drove down the main street, Jenny said, “Look! There’s the shop!”

Sure enough, in white letters on a dark wooden shingle was printed: GUIDRY ANTIQUES.

They pulled up in front of the shop, and Jenny hopped out. She walked to the door, read for a minute, then walked back to the car. Smiling, she said, “Jack, write down this number.”

Jack pulled out his notebook and she gave him a telephone number, explaining that that was the number to call in the event of an emergency.

“That must be the Guidrys’ home phone, wouldn’t you think?” she asked Jack.

They drove to the same pay phone they’d used earlier. “Let me call,” Jenny said.

Nicole and Jack agreed. They sat in the car and waited, and Nicole wondered if he was as excited as she was. She doubted it. The thought of finally meeting her double, her unknown cousin, had to mean more to her than it did to him.

As if he’d read her mind, he reached for her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Nervous. Excited. Happy that it looks as if everything’s going to end up okay.”

Jenny was on the phone for a long time. When she finally came back to the car, her eyes were shining. “Let’s go,” she said as she slid into the back seat. “It’s not far.”