Elli (A Second Chance Novel Book 1) Page 8

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  Elli was walking back from the kennel with three long dog leashes in her hand when she spotted the hot pink truck coming down the road in her direction. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she stopped in her tracks, looking for any place she could take cover. There really was a gun rack in the old lady’s bright truck. She’d spotted it when she’d walked past it on her way to the kennel. There was also an NRA-Proud Member sticker on the rear chrome bumper. Elli sure hoped the little old lady in the bright bonnet had calmed down because there wasn’t any place to hide. She was an easy target.

  As the truck neared, Elli closed her eyes and said a quick Hail Mary. She held her breath as the truck slid on the gravel road, spraying rocks and dust that pelted her arms and face. “Shoot me in the head,” Elli shouted. “I don’t want to feel the bullet.”

  “Moodee, what’s wrong wit you?” Tante Izzy said, sounding irritated. “Get in my truck.”

  Elli opened her eyes and saw that the old lady had stopped two feet short of running her over. “What?” She looked into the truck and noted the shotgun was still secure on the rack. She sucked in a deep breath.

  “Are you deaf?”

  No way was she getting in the truck with that crazy woman and her rifle. “Thanks for the offer, but I need the exercise.”

  “You skinnier than a coon with his mouth taped shut. You cain’t walk where I wants to bring you. I need to show you somethin’ you should have seen right away.”

  Elli looked into Tante Izzy’s faded, chocolate brown eyes. Judging by the determined look and the finality of the old lady’s tone, she didn’t think she had a choice, so she walked to the passenger side. “I’ll come with you, but you better not shoot me,” Elli said as she climbed in.

  “If I wanted to shoot you, I’d have done did it already.” Tante Izzy gripped the wheel with her crooked fingers and punched the gas pedal, which had a three-inch block of wood strapped to it so she could reach it. Elli’s head jerked back, and she reached for her seat belt. It wasn’t there.

  “Didn’t have no seat belts when I bought dis beauty in 1956, don’t need d’em now.”

  Elli didn’t think they painted trucks neon pink back then either, but that didn’t stop Tante Izzy from making that change. “You could retrofit the truck with seat belts, if you wanted.”

  Tante Izzy snorted. “Why would I waste my hard-earned money on someding like dat?”

  “Oh, maybe because it’s safer to have them?” Elli gripped the side of her seat, trying to keep from sliding off the slick white vinyl. The seat, she could tell, was original to the truck.

  “I’ve been drivin’ since I’m six. Never needed a seat belt all those eighty years—except that one time when I got throwed from the truck when it rolled into da ditch on Bayou Noir road.” She waved her hand to dismiss the whole idea of seat belts as they approached the property gate. She reached into her faux zebra print purse, pulled out a remote control, and pointed it at the gate. It opened toward the truck and she quickly put it in reverse to keep it from being hit. When the gate opened completely, she punched the gas and they jerked backward. She’d forgotten to shift into drive. By the time she got going in the right direction, the gate had closed again.

  “Moodee, dis newfangled technolgeez.” She dug into her purse again for the remote.

  “I think you might have to back up a bit again.” Tante Izzy ignored Elli and let the gate hit the front of her truck. “I think it might work better if you stay behind that yellow line on the road. I think that’s why it’s painted there.”

  “I know dat. Ben put dat down for me lass year.” She backed up behind the line, then pointed the remote at the gate a third time. “Dare. Dat wasn’t so difficile.”

  “Piece of cake,” Elli said, biting back a smile.

  They drove for fifteen minutes until they reached a narrow bridge that, according to Tante Izzy, was built across Bayou Noir when “the peoples liked takin’ dare cars more than dare boats to church.”

  St. Anthony’s Catholic Church was not far from the foot of the bridge, a couple of hundred yards from Bayou Noir. Tante Izzy drove into the crushed oyster shell lot and parked the truck. “Even dough your Aunt Rosa was a sinnin’ woman, havin’ taken up with a married man and all, she still was a good Catholic.”

  Elli had heard a number of nefarious tales about her Aunt Rosa’s gypsy past from her father, but hadn’t heard stories of her grand affair with Joseph Bienvenu. Her father had been alive when Aunt Rosa had begun that affair, but he hadn’t mentioned it. Elli was just out of college at the time and hadn’t thought of the aunt she’d never met. Selfishly, she was wrapped up in her budding career and promising life. Her dad probably wasn’t too anxious to talk about his sister, either.

  “My father mentioned that she was living in the heart of Cajun country, but not much else,” Elli offered, watching the parking lot dust settle around the truck. “It wasn’t until I got the call from my aunt’s lawyer about her will that I found out how she came to own the plantation—and that was like getting the headlines instead of the full article.”

  “Well, family is family. Da good, da bad, and da ugly.” Tante Izzy shook her head and looked up at the brim of the bonnet on her head as if she’d just noticed it was there. She untied the strings under her chin and pulled it off. “I s’pect Rosa really loved him and he her, but it never sat well wit his family.” She patted at a few permed curls on her head, then climbed out of the truck. Elli followed. “Are you Catholic?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “A church-going Catholic or an Easter and Christmas Catholic?”

  Elli wasn’t sure where this conversation was going or where they were going, but she tried to follow along. “I go to weekly Mass,” she said, wondering if the little old lady was bringing her to meet the parish priest to hear her confession or to reveal her Aunt Rosa’s confessions.

  “I trust you tellin’ me the truth because we’ez on holy ground.”

  Just when she thought they would go up the steps and into the church, Tante Izzy led her around the side of the old wooden building to the back. She pointed past a pale brick arch to the cemetery. “Youz go on through there, now. Youz aunt’s been anxious to see you.”

  Elli looked at Tante Izzy. “Where is she buried?”

  “In one of those drawers on the left. You cain’t miss it. Instead of her picture on the drawer, she got a whole mess of dogs engraved on da front.” Tante Izzy waved her arthritic hand. “Go on.”

  Elli walked through the archway and found the wall of “drawers”. Aunt Rosa’s resting place was on the bottom row at the end. “Rosalina Morenelli,” she read, feeling a sudden rush of emotions she hadn’t expected to have for a person she didn’t know. A brass vase sat empty on the front of the auburn marble marker engraved with five Labrador retriever type dogs. “Hello, Aunt Rosa,” Elli began, not certain what to say but knowing she should say something. “Thank you for the plantation—although, I’m not sure why you had to make getting it so complicated.” She shook her head and wiped the dust off the front of the marble with her shirtsleeve. “I’m not really sure what you intended for me to do with it, but I know what I intend to do. I think you’d be happy to know it will be in the movies. The plantation will be famous. I don’t think Ben will be happy about that, though.”

  Elli stared at the empty vase, again. It bothered her that no one cared enough to bring her flowers. “I wish I knew how to handle Ben,” she confessed. “He seems pretty stubborn.” She smiled. “I guess I am, too. That, my mother used to tell me, is a Morenelli trait.” She squatted in front of the marble and began tracing the engraved outlines of the dogs. “I need the money from the sale of the plantation. I’ve got plans. Grand plans that will help a lot of people, but I’ve got to see they are completed quickly. Not only because of the importance of making this foundation work, but…” she swallowed past the tightness in her throat, “because I just don’t know how much time I have to live. I know it sounds
so pathetic and grim, and the doctors aren’t giving me any reason to think this way. They say I have every reason to believe I’ll live to be an old lady, but I can’t help…” She shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ve said all I have to say.” She stood, bowed her head, and said a little prayer for Aunt Rosa to rest in peace. Tante Izzy found her like that.

  “I done said a novena fer her,” she said before reaching Elli. “God knows, she needed it wit da way she loved on Ben’s daddy.” She shook her head. “I guess she loved him and made him happy. He needed some happiness.”

  Elli looked at her. “He must have loved her, too. It would explain why he’d give her what was in his family for so long.”

  Tante Izzy snorted. “Rosa wanted it. He gave her what she wanted.” She harrumphed. “She had him wound around her little finger. She wrote poetry for him. She sung him songs with her beat-up gee-tar. She made him feel like a man.”

  “How long ago did he die?”

  “Six months before Rosa.” Tante Izzy made the sign of the cross. “Me, I think she died of a broken heart.”

  That didn’t sound like the Aunt Rosa her father spoke of in censorious tones. The woman her dad spoke of was carefree, rebellious, and eccentric. Enduring love and broken hearts and romantic notions didn’t fit her personality. She would have picked up her heels and moved on to the next adventure when this one was done. Still, she had stayed with Joseph Bienvenu for a long time.

  “I was told they were together for eleven years. Is that right?” She turned to face Tante Izzy.

  “Das right.”

  “And Mrs. Bienvenu knew about it all that time?”

  “Hell, she introduced dem—not dat she thought dey’d be lovers at the time.” She shifted on her feet and Elli knew she was getting tired. “She didn’t like da public humiliation, but she sure didn’t mind him out of her bed. Harrumph. You’ll meet her soon enough. She’s a Texian, like you,” she said as if that explained everything.

  “I’m not from Texas,” Elli told her. She suspected a Tex-ee-an was the same as a Texan. Tante Izzy had already turned to leave and didn’t seem to have heard her.

  “Va. Let’s go,” she called to Elli. “Sun’s going down and it’s gettin’ cold. I’m old and my bones hurt when it’s cold. What? You want me to get pneumon-ee-a? I ain’t leavin’ you no property when I die, you know.”

  Elli smiled, took a single red carnation from a bunch in a vase from a neighboring crypt, and stuffed it into Aunt Rosa’s vase. “I’ll bring you some of your own later.” She looked at the crypt she’d taken a flower from and shrugged. “I’ll get you some too, Miss…” She read the engraved name. “Mr. Joseph Bienvenu.” Elli was more than a little surprised that his resting place was next to his mistress. That couldn’t have set well with his wife and son. She scanned the other names on the wall as she passed. There were at least two dozen other Bienvenues. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  “By da way, young gal,” Tante Izzy said, her voice firm. “Dis here is youz church parish. Mass is at eight-thirty and ten-thirty.”

  Chapter Four

  I have discovered I love knitted caps…purple ones…yellow ones…blue ones…white ones…rainbow ones. They feel like a warm hug to my cold, furless head…Like a teddy bear, a blankie, a steaming cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows…all good and cozy things. Oh, it is so much better than a scratchy wig on my sensitive scalp or a floppy scarf that I can only tie into something that looks like a poorly wrapped birthday present. I wish you good health, E.

  Bosom Blog Buddies Post

  Elli reached for her cell phone on the bedside table with minimal movement, as was her habit to do each morning when she woke. She didn’t need to look at the time to know it was six a.m. She always woke up at six, no matter what time she went to bed the night before. Still, she looked anyway. That was her habit, too.

  8:00 a.m.

  “What?” It didn’t take long for her slow-waking brain to figure out that even after two nights at Sugar Mill Plantation, her body was still functioning on Pacific time. Cane, Louisiana, was in the central time zone—two hours later. She should have set the phone alarm. She had a lot to do and this two-hour delay meant she’d have to adjust her rigid morning schedule. Her daily five-mile run would have to be a little shorter. She would not abandon it. Another habit.

  Other than the dim glow from her phone, the room remained as dark as night, thanks to the old, heavy, blackout curtains over the large windows. She pointed her phone into the darkness to get her bearings. One by one, dark, black, shadowy figures popped up from her bed. She let out a startled cry. Old plantation. Haunted. Ghosts, she concluded in a single beat of her thumping heart. She cried out again. From somewhere at the foot of her bed came a howling bark.

  “Oh, no,” she said, half with relief and half with frustration. “Shhhh. Quiet down.” She’d forgotten about the dogs she’d put in her room last night after Ben evicted them from the doggie guest room. He had to put a sick, brown-eyed pup in there so he could watch over it. Even if she had remembered the beasts in her room, she certainly wouldn’t have figured Aunt Rosa’s three pets would be in the impossibly narrow bed with her. “Stop that baying.” She kicked her feet from beneath the blanket toward the noisy animal; she knew it was BJ by her ear-splitting howl. The annoying animal snorted, let out another bark, and sat down on her feet. “Lovely.”

  A whiny yawn sounded from near Elli’s head. She pointed her cell phone to her right and found Jenny, resting her head on Elli’s pillows in a very human-like repose.

  “Pillow hog,” she said, at a loss as to when or how Jenny had managed to evict her from the pillows in the tiny bed. “You all need crates to sleep in, like Donna.” Doe and BJ stood and stared down at her. Jenny put her thick paw on Elli’s arm. Donna probably heard her name and began to whine from inside her kennel at the foot of the bed. Elli recognized the note in Donna’s cry. She had to go and there was little time to get her outside.

  Using her cell phone to light her path, Elli untangled herself from twisted blankets and excited dogs, scooped Donna from her crate, and raced to the door. She managed only to stub her bare toes twice. Blinking past the sting in her eyes from the sudden burst of light as she rushed out of the room, she darted down the stairs with Donna extended from her body and a trail of yapping dogs behind her. As she raced through the kitchen, she registered in a blur that there were four wide human eyes and a pair of canine eyes looking at her. Of course, there were, she thought, knowing that at least one of the pairs of eyes belonged to Ben Bienvenu. She was destined to show herself at her worst to the man she wanted to impress the most. If holding a leaky dog in a rhinestone collar wasn’t bad enough, doing it while wearing pink flannel pajama bottoms; Wal-Mart Clearance Winnie the Pooh, cami; and a worn, homemade, knit cap was scraping the bottom of the barrel. It was only one step above charging out of a bathroom with a towel wrapped around her and spearing a plunger at phantom alligators.

  She rushed through the rear, screened porch, tripped down the outside steps, and fell onto the concrete pad, just missing the lush, dew-dampened, grass by two inches. Donna tinkled as she fell.

  “Daddy, that lady fell down,” she heard a young voice say and her heart sank further. Not only did she humiliate herself in front of Ben but in front of the child he protected like the Terminator protected John and Sarah Connor.

  Elli looked at the wet spot on Pooh’s head and sighed. Jenny came up to her and licked her face. Doe howled twice, yanked her knit cap off her head, and took off. She had no idea where BJ was and, frankly, didn’t care. She hoped the noisy little monster ran away and joined a pack of wild dogs in the swamp. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the bright blue sky for just a moment—she needed a moment, doggone it, so she would take one. She needed for life to level out so she could regain control—control of the doggie chaos. Control over her heart that suddenly felt heavy with guilt when she heard Ben’s son’s sweet voice. The son who had the mini-man recliner in this g
rand home. The son who Doug told her was staying with him in the cottage since she moved into the plantation.

  Elli sucked in a breath of cool, damp, verdant morning air and absorbed all the good vitamin D-three the warm sunshine offered her. She’d reconcile this problem. She’d help find a home for Ben’s son. She could do that. She was a problem solver, right? Maybe she was just crazy and way over her head.

  “Daddy, who is that lady on the ground?”

  “Come inside. She’s a crazy woman waiting for the psycho police to come get her.” The little boy slammed the door closed, but not before she heard Ben say, “Stay away from her.”

  Elli threw her arm over her eyes and groaned. “Crazy? I’ll show you crazy!” she shouted after him. She sat up and noticed the torn fabric over her knees. She spotted the small smear of blood before she felt the abrasion from her skinned knees. “Ouwwww.”

  She wanted to sit nursing her injury, absorbing the sunshine and cool, fresh air, but Doe looked like she was ready to shred her treasured knit cap. Elli jumped up and raced after the floppy-eared beast. She’d had that knit cap and a half dozen others like it since she’d lost her hair from the chemo treatment. She began sleeping with it on her head, then to keep warm, and still wore it to sleep today because it was comforting and cozy. This fuzzy pink, white, and orange one was her favorite. It was the first one she’d knitted.

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  Ben watched Elli through the kitchen window as she chased Doe around the backyard. Her limping didn’t hide her agility and grace. She was long, lean, and obviously a runner, but no match for the bloodhound mix. What in the hell did the dog have in her mouth anyway?