Restoring Hope (24 page)

“What you mean why I cry? You suffered for years; he took your
‘tite ange
from you, forced you to live in hell he did and kept you beaten down till you had to kill him to be free.”

“I should have been stronger, I should have left.”

“He shouldah’ been a man and treat you wit’ a gentle hand not his fist, don’t you take his blame,
Cher
.”

“We were both to blame, Rose. I should have left when I found out I was pregnant, protected my son, but I didn’t. It took me two years to get the nerve to hand over evidence to the police ‘cause I was scared they would kill me, all while kids like Chelsea were dying. I’m as much to blame as he is, if not more.”

“How in da’ world do you come up wit’ dat’? Did dat' bastard try and fill your head wit’ dat’ garbage?”

“No, I knew it when I was living it. I was weak, scared; only thinking of myself. Nic saw it as soon as he read the article, knew what a coward I was.”

“Dat’ is horse poop. Nic may have been upset, but he not blame you for what others do. You give him time,
Cher
, he will come round’ he will.” Hope took a deep breath and nodded. She wasn’t going to argue with Rose; she wasn’t here when Nic left, she didn’t see his face, his reaction. He was done. “Good, now, you take a shower and eat sometin,’ but I expect you back at work tomorrah,’ yes? Nic will come to his senses he will, and everah’ting will be all right.” Hope nodded and then hugged Rose, her heart breaking a little at the thought of leaving this woman behind.

Rose moved to the door, and when she saw the hole in the wall Nic had left, she turned to Hope and smiled.

“Dat’ man care deeply for you. He put his hand tru' da’ wall ‘cause he could not put his fist on da’ man who hurt you. You give him time,
Cher,
I promise he will come back.”

Hope remembered the sound of the sheetrock caving in as his hand burst through it, and then his angry “FUCK” as he left. For half a moment, she wondered if Rose was right, but steeled herself against hope. She smiled at Rose and then opened the door for her. Rose walked through it and then turned and stared back at Hope, reading her. Before she turned to leave, she leaned in, kissed her forehead, and said, “What does not kill us makes us stronger, yes. You just hold on till he calms down
, Cher
. . . Promise me?” Hope bit her lips and nodded, figured another lie after so many didn’t matter at this point.

Rose climbed into her big SUV and knew she was on borrowed time. T-Hope had the look of someone already gone, and if she didn’t reach Nic soon and talk some sense into the man, she would leave and never come back. She’d hunt his ass down, and he’d better listen to her if he knew what was good for him, ‘cause if he didn’t, she’d let Big Daddy fricassee his ass and serve him up for dinner.

She drove to his office, and he wasn’t there, he’d called in saying he was taking a personal day. She went back to his house and pounded on his door, but no one answered and his car was gone. She called Big Daddy and asked him if he knew any other bars he went to and then drove to one close to his house, but no Nic. She wondered if he had driven to Baton Rouge to visit his family, but didn’t have their contact information and she sure as hell wasn’t calling Kat to get the number.

Parking on a side street, Rose tried to put herself in Nic’s shoes.
Where in the hell would that stubborn Cajun go?
Hope killing her bastard husband was not what would bother him; it was the drugs and her baby dying. That would get to him the most Rose figured, open wounds that hadn’t begun to heal. She could well imagine he’d turned around what he’d read and all but crucified Hope. He needed a big dose of Rose reality to fix his stupid, stubborn ass. Frustrated, Rose looked around the street trying to come up with some sort of idea of where she could find him. Either he doesn’t want to be found, and he’s hiding where she’ll never find him, like the swamp, or he’s somewhere no one would think to look.

Rose thought for a minute more, and then an idea popped into her head. Starting her car, she headed out of the French Quarter and headed uptown until she found the neighborhood where Kat lived. Pulling down the street of huge homes that Nic had designed, she passed Kat’s house but no Nic. At least she didn’t have to worry he’d been a fool and gone running back to that cow to get over his sorrows, but it still didn’t solve her problem.
Where in the hell is Nic?

Rose thought about everything Nic had been through and what he’d learned about Hope, and another thought occurred to her as she pulled back out of the neighborhood. If he was dealing with Hope’s past and how it intermingled with his own, then the most logical place he would go broke her heart . . .
Chelsea.

What few belongings Hope still had from her former life were packed into two bags. She’d left them at her front door while she scrubbed the bathroom, vacuumed the floors and washed any dishes she had used. She was running on empty, no food in her stomach, no coffee in her system, and the headache from lack of caffeine and crying was slowing her down. She needed to finish the cleaning and get to The Bayou and collect her wages, say goodbye to everyone and then get to the train station. But, before she did that, she had to say goodbye to Nic.

Pulling out some paper that she'd kept from a hotel, she sat at the kitchen counter on the old stool Nic had put in the condo for her, and began to write the words that she hoped would be enough to say how sorry she was. She tried to figure out how to tell Nic, without sounding desperate, that the month she had spent with him meant more to her than anything she experienced so far in her thirty-eight years. How his kindness, protectiveness had meant the world to her and even though she had hurt him, she let him know she would never forget him or Nicky and that she wished them all the happiness they deserved in this life. By the time she’d ended the letter, her tears had left stains on the paper, and some of the ink had smeared. Signing it simply with her name, no terms of endearment to anger him, she kissed the letter and placed it inside an envelope. She would leave it at the bar with Rose to give to Nic once she was gone, and felt he was ready to read her words. When she finished, she stuck the letter in her pack, checked all the rooms one last time, then pulled the key off her key ring, and placed in on the kitchen counter for Nic to find. She took one last look at the condo, the happiest home she’d had since her parents had died and then opened the door and walked out.

Chapter Nineteen

Rose’s instincts were on the money, Nic was seated on a marble bench next to the mausoleum that held Chelsea’s body. Arms resting on his thighs, a cigarette between his two fingers as he blew a stream of smoke out his nose. He only smoked when he was upset, and Rose figured this was as good a reason as any to partake in an occasional smoke.

He saw her coming and said nothing, just looked her in the eyes as he took another drag from his cigarette. When she reached the bench, she sat down, put her purse on the ground and then sat back and sighed.

“Whatever you came here to say, say it,” he mumbled not looking at her; his eyes towards the ground waiting for whatever she would lay on him.

“You a stubborn man, Nic Beuve.” He scoffed at her but didn’t argue he knew he was stubborn.

“And you’re a nosy woman.”

“How else I gonna know what happens in my bar?”

“You’re not here to talk about your bar, did she call you?”

“Oh, no, not dat’ girl, she more stubborn dan’ you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Cause you makin’ da’ biggest mistake of your life if you let dat’ woman go.”

“I’m not talkin about it Rose,” Nic grumbled and drew more smoke into his lungs.

“Oh, I know you bettah’ dan’ dat’. You may not talk, but you damn sure will listen.”

“Then get it over with, I’ve got shit to do,” Nic growled not ready to get into this with anyone.

“You can be an ass you know dat’?” Rose waited for a reply but got none, so she decided to give him both barrels.

“Woman grows up in foster care, nasty b’nez dat’ but grow up she did. Survived it only to be tied to a man who used his hands for pain rathah’ dan’ pleasure. He had her so scared to leave she don’t even when baby comin.’ Den’ he beat her and she lose da’ baby and what will she has left to live. You followin’ me, Nic?” Rose watched as Nic’s jaw tightened, and his fist clenched. She had his attention, but would he listen?

“Aftah’ he bring her so low she don’t care weddah’ she live or die, she finds out he runnin’ drugs on top of everah’ting else he put her tru.’ Now, I don’t know about you, but I tinkin’ if a woman gets beat long enough and hard enough, at some point she gonna shut down and not let anyone in, yes?”

She watched Nic close his eyes but still he held his tongue, and she figured that was good, he wasn’t’ arguing the point, just fighting it in his head.

“Dat’ woman has lived a nightmare, den’ to save her own life she had to kill da’ monster who strip her dignity. She risked her life to give police enough to arrest da’ only family she has and no one, not one person is even lookin’ for dat’ woman or care she is gone. She was so isolated in da’ fear she had no one till she come here.”

“Enough,” Nic growled and stood from the bench.

“Enough?” Rose hissed. “Enough what, Nic? Enough truth dat’ da’ woman is no saint? Dat’ she make a mistake like we all do. Dat’ she was scared for her life, scared her past would come here and hurt you?” Rose spit out and watched his face fall. “I ‘tink she has paid dat’ debt don’t you? Any sin she may have committed ain’t as great as what she been tru’ . . . So, tell me, what you gonna do Nic? You gonna be just like dat’ bastard who beat her when she was down, or are
you
gonna be da’ man who saves her from hell?”

“
Mon Dieu
, you don’t pull punches.”

“Not when it comes to love.”

“No one said anything about love,” Nic argued, but she could see in his eyes he was lying. “I cared about the woman I thought she was, I don’t know who the fuck she is now,” he hissed then he shook his head and mumbled, “I need time to sort this shit out.”

Rose stood, grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder glaring at Nic, then made the parting shot to end all parting shots, determined to light a fire under his ass ‘cause they were running out of time.

“You do dat’ Nic, you take all da’ time you need to decide if da’ woman I had to pick up off da’ floor dis’ mornin’, so full of sorrow dat’ she could not stand, is worth your time and attention.” Then she turned on her heels, and left him to his pride to digest what she had just said. Though the whispered “Fuck” she heard behind her told her Nic was the man she knew he was. Prideful to a fault, protective to a fault, and above all else, a very smart man. She figured it would take him about an hour to change his tune, if it took longer—she was losing her touch.

As Rose walked away, and Nic followed her with his eyes, the force of her parting shot burned into his mind. He could see Hope clearly lying on the floor, crying, and the knot in his chest tightened.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes and remembered her face as he shot question after question at her the night before, her expression a portrait of pain and sorrow, her eyes filled with tears that she wouldn’t let fall.

“
Mon Dieu
,” he realized what a bastard he’d been.

After a long day at the office, the encounter with the fortuneteller, and no results searching for her bastard husband he’d been in a foul mood and gone home to change before heading out for dinner. When he arrived home, he’d found an envelope with no name stuck in his door. When he’d opened it and read the article inside, confused at first, until he’d gotten to the part where it mentioned the dead man was the owner of a trucking company. He’d frozen in place, his heart pounding, and he’d started over.