Elli (A Second Chance Novel Book 1) Read online

  As if reading his father’s mind, Joey walked to the back door and looked past the screened porch. “The crazy lady looks like she wants her hat back, huh Daddy?”

  Hat? Yes, he remembered, she was wearing the knit cap when she ran outside with her fancy poodle mix dangling in front of her like a rotten roast.

  “Go on, get your school bag. It’s time to go.”

  “I don’t have school, remember?” Joey got his backpack from the kitchen table. “It’s Sunday. We’re going to eight thirty mass.”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” He smiled at his son, who looked at him as if he expected to hear that he had to go to school anyway. “You still want to help me run the German Shepherds through their drills after Mass, huh?”

  “Can I hide the scent box? I know places to put it that aren’t easy for them to find.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Before he could tell his son to meet him in the truck, Joey ran outside.

  Ben watched as he stopped ten feet in front of the truck, hesitated, and fidgeted with his fingers. He turned abruptly and shouted to Elli. “I hope you get your hat back.”

  Elli looked at his son, a smile instantly on her face. She waved to him. “Me, too.”

  His stomach felt like a fist landed dead center. He didn’t like the woman who was trying to steal his son’s home being so damn chummy with him. “Let’s go,” he said as he approached the boy.

  As they reached the truck, Doe darted around the garage toward them. A limp, fuzzy, pink, white, and orange cap in her mouth. Joey called her over and the dog went right to him. The boy had a way with dogs. He was a natural and it made Ben proud every time he saw him with them. He’d be a great trainer one day. Ben just wished his son could be that comfortable with people. He was shy and timid around both children and adults. There were only three people he was comfortable with—Beau, Tante Izzy, and Doug.

  “I know you are just having fun,” Joey said to the dog, “but you shouldn’t get that crazy lady upset. It isn’t right to do that to handicapped people.”

  Ben began to laugh as he opened the door to the truck. It was then that he noticed Elli standing off to the side. By the red blotches on her cheeks and her gaping mouth, he knew she had heard his son.

  Joey carried the cap to Elli. Doe immediately leaped up and tried to take it back. His son laughed as Elli jerked it away. “She don’t mean no harm. She’s just funning you…”

  “I wish she wouldn’t do her funning with my favorite cap.” She smiled. “I thank you for rescuing it.”

  She looked down at Joey with a softness in her eyes that made Ben’s chest ache. Had she been anyone other than the woman trying to steal his son’s home, he would have been grateful for her kindness. Instead, it felt like she was throwing Joey in the middle of a bloody battle. Was she using the son to get to the father? That ploy had been tried on him before, and he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it again.

  “Let’s go, Joey,” he called, controlling his anger. His son stood in front of Elli and didn’t move. He acted as if he hadn’t heard his father. He was looking down at his dull brown leather church shoes. “What the hell?” Ben mumbled, surprised that his painfully shy son remained standing near Elli even though his body language said he didn’t want to be there. He looked like he wanted to say something more. What in the hell was his son doing? “We don’t want to be late for Mass. Tante Izzy will have our hides,” he said, knowing his voice was rougher than necessary.

  “What’s your name?” she asked gently.

  “Joey.” He kicked at the grass. “Joseph Martin Bienvenu, the second. After my Popie.” She thought of the man who had loved her aunt and was buried next to her.

  “I’m Elli. Elli Morenelli, and I like your recliner.” She extended her hand and he looked up at it. “I won’t bite. Jenny might, but I promise I won’t.”

  Ben stormed over to them, but not before his son shook her hand and raced to the truck.

  “Thank you for your help, Joey,” she called to him as Ben reached her. He stood in front of her with his feet spread, hands on his hips. He put his body between her and his vulnerable son.

  “Stay away from him.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t drag him in the middle of our problems. You go near him again, and I’ll toss you in a feed sack and send you back to California so fast you won’t know what happened.”

  “You don’t scare me, Ben Bienvenu,” she said, staring right into his eyes with her big baby blues as if she meant it. “I’ve faced worse things than you.”

  “No,” he gritted his teeth, “you haven’t. Don’t try to pretend to be someone you’re not, Miss Crocifissa Morenelli.” Her eyes widened at the use of her legal name. “Yeah, cher, I know who you really are.”

  He turned, his ears burning, his fists clenched. Damn if he didn’t want to do what he threatened and ship her back to California in a dusty feed sack. He climbed in the truck and backed out of the driveway. Before he shifted into drive, he looked at her one last time. She stood where he’d left her. Her eyes were bright with anger. No, Miss Morenelli didn’t like being threatened, but she was smart enough not to let her emotions get the best of her. He’d have to keep his guard up with her. She was going to try to outwit him to get what she wanted. He could see her already calculating his demise in those bright blue eyes. Ben suspected she was good at it, too. Well, he was good at getting what he wanted. Handling the pretty, long-legged Miss Morenelli would be as easy as training a stubborn shepherd. She’d figure out soon enough who was the pack leader.

  * * * *

  Thirty minutes later, she was still angry. “Crocifissa Morenelli,” Elli grumbled, shoving her legs into her black spandex running shorts. “Nobody calls me by my given name, not even my doctors.” She stuffed her feet into her running shoes and laced them with sharp jerking movements. “The last time someone used that tone, saying my name the way Ben did, was when my third-grade teacher thought I intentionally put poison sumac leaves with the railroad daisies I’d picked for her from the field near the school. I did nothing wrong then and I didn’t do anything wrong now.”

  Jenny, whom Elli had quickly realized was as sweet and nurturing as Aunt Bea in the Andy Griffith Show, came over and put her paw on Elli’s foot.

  “Thank you, Jenny.” She scratched the retriever’s soft neck and gave her a quick hug. “You know, he tossed my name at me like he was swinging a sledgehammer through a stone wall.” She petted Doe, who came over to get some of the attention Jenny was enjoying. “It’s a good name. It’s an old family name passed on from generation to generation. I choose to use my nickname because, it’s…it’s…well, it’s better.” She sighed. “Who am I kidding? I like Crocifissa in a family tradition kind of way, but not at all in the living with it kind of way.” She shrugged. “I have got to not let his petty taunts get to me.” She nodded. “Sticks and stones and all that.” She stood and the dogs started bouncing and circling around her. “Keep your eye on the finish line, Elli.”

  She looked at the dogs in perpetual motion. “Who’s ready for a run?” She got the leashes for Jenny, Doe, and BJ. “You need a lot of exercise and calming energy to behave,” she said, quoting the Dog Whisperer whose shows she found online right after she logged onto Ben’s wireless Wi-Fi the night before. It wasn’t hard to figure out his password either, she remembered with a smile. It was D-O-G-S. The man was certainly not worried about internet security.

  “I aim to follow the Dog Whisperers advice for all of you,” she said, feeling her spirits lighten. ”Even you, Donna. We’ll walk this afternoon.” She looked at the pretty bundle of fluff resting in her kennel. There was no way her tiny legs could keep up with the bigger animals. Besides, they’d trample her for certain.

  Yes, this dog exercising thing was a trifecta, Elli thought. The dogs got exercise, she got exercise, and she got to scout the grounds for photo locations for the real estate portfolio she was putting together. She’d picked a course through the areas she thought
two specific venture-capitalist groups would be interested in seeing. They both were looking to build a “Hollywood South” studio. With Louisiana’s special, tax-free incentives for movies filming in the state, she understood how appealing Sugar Mill Plantation would be to them.

  Jenny, Doe, and BJ were remarkably well behaved as she started running from the front of the house, toward the bayou. Doe, the most energetic of the three, took the lead, followed by BJ. Jenny ran at her right side in what seemed to be a protective position between Elli and the water’s edge. She guessed that if an alligator or opossum darted out of the water, she’d defend her. Or not. Maybe her active imagination was just making all of that up.

  “Good girls,” Elli said and the dogs’ heads lifted higher with pride. “This is fun.” She smiled, deciding Doug’s instruction on using the leashes was very good advice. She’d have to ask him on techniques to housebreak BJ, whom she discovered had left her a surprise on the bathroom floor.

  She gazed around the bayou, feeling content and making mental notes of a twisted cypress tree, a thick palmetto plant, and a smooth, flowing bayou bend that she’d photograph later for the portfolio. She was feeling hopeful and full of good, calming energy, and the dogs were feeding off of it—or so she thought until she turned at a small road to her left that led into a cane field. Doe wanted to keep going straight, BJ wanted to turn onto the road, and Jenny wanted to stop running altogether.

  Elli stumbled before stopping in the middle of the road. BJ tried to keep running. “Whoa, girl.” She tugged on her leash and BJ jumped up, shoving her paws against Elli’s hips and nearly knocking her over. “Hey, cut that out.” Elli looked at the pedometer on her wristwatch. She’d only gone a half a mile.

  “You don’t know who you’re messing with. I’m tougher than I look.” She laughed and started running down the road where, on this warm February day, the new crop of cane was more brown than green, and was as high as her knees. It actually looked more like beach grass or bamboo than sugarcane. Each season, she thought, would bring a different look to the fields. There would be the lush, towering, emerald cane in the summer; the bare, just harvested fields of fall; the tan stalks of winter; and the fresh, new green sprouts of spring. Each was beautiful in its own way, she realized, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent she imagined would also change with the season, making it sweeter, heavier, and richer.

  She stopped in the middle of the road, and for a moment, she took it all in—not worrying about the tangle of dogs or the perfect photos she would take. She simply appreciated the hushing quiet of the sugarcane stalks swooshing in the wind. This was pure. Unpretentious. Elemental. Healthy. The sky was a perfect, fresh shade of blue. The road was a dry, rich, earthy brown. The cane stalks were a crisp, robust tan with new green shoots starting to stand up around it. All Elli could think was wow, and she felt the word whisper over her lips. She thanked God for giving her this exact, perfect, wonderful moment. Life was, after all, made up of remarkable moments. She never wanted to skim over them, because you never knew if one would be your last.

  Without thought, she tugged on the leashes and turned to walk into a narrow row of the cane fields. She wanted to be part of this basic, natural thing. She wanted to let it seep into her skin, her blood, her bones. She wanted to be in harmony with it.

  The dogs must have sensed her need for quiet and peace. They followed her unobtrusively, sniffing and high-stepping, doing things dogs do. Elli didn’t pay attention to how far she walked until she wandered into a straight line of towering cedar trees that smelled sweet, heavy, and familiar. In the home she’d grown up in near Santa Clarita, they’d had a cedar-paneled storage closet upstairs where they kept ski clothes, her old baby clothes, and other items they didn’t often use. Smelling the familiar scent of her carefree childhood made her feel good. The dogs must have sensed her happy mood and came over to her, wagging their tails.

  “Aren’t you all an intuitive bunch,” she said, petting each of them. As she was scratching Jenny under the chin, something behind the cedars caught her eye. It was gray and its texture was very different from the scaly, sienna brown bark of the cedars. Elli moved forward, past the man-sized trunks and low branches, until she was in a clearing where a small, ten-by-ten, weathered shack stood on the edge of a moss-draped bayou. The moss and the weathered cypress building were just about the same color. The dogs pulled on their leashes, trying to get closer to the water.

  “Stay,” she said, sensing they shouldn’t go any further. She felt like she was trespassing, so she checked her pedometer to see how far she actually had traveled. One-point-six miles. With the twists and turns she made, she knew that meant she was still on Sugar Mill land. It was odd that this bayou-side shack wasn’t noted on the maps she’d received in her documents nor listed in the property descriptions.

  What did it matter? She had found it now. She’d come back here to take pictures. This would definitely have to be included in the real estate packet. “Charming fishing camp or country cottage,” she said, thinking of the angles from which the movie camera could film the tiny building with its four single-paned windows and lone rusty-hinged door. “Definitely charming.” She smiled, looking at the small, half-collapsed, wooden dock leading from the narrow porch into the bayou.

  Jenny sat next to Elli and began to whine.

  “What’s wrong, girl. Are you tired?”

  Doe began to bark her odd bloodhound bark, pulling on the leash as if she wanted to take off toward the shack to their left. Elli looked in the direction she was barking pulling on her leash to keep her from rushing forward. “What do you hear? An animal?” she asked, not seeing anything that would make Doe so upset. “There’s got to be raccoons and snakes and other creatures in there.” She didn’t know Doe very well or understand why dogs barked, but the way Doe was acting made the hair stand on her scalp. It was such a primal response that Elli knew something had to be wrong. A chill raced down Elli’s spine and she knew she couldn’t excuse it away.

  She began to back out of the clearing, using the same path by which she had come. BJ and Jenny were now barking and lunging toward this unknown thing or things. Elli just wanted to get the blazes out of there. She had to use all of her strength to pull them back to the road. Once she got there, they settled down and forgot about the cabin. Elli hadn’t. She took off running as fast as she could down the road, the dogs followed her for a while, then Doe and BJ raced in front of her. Jenny tugged on the leash and trailed behind her. She was stuck in the middle. How in the world had she let this happen?

  “Stop. Heel,” she shouted as Doe and BJ huffed and coughed from the choking pull of the leash against their throats. Elli tried to run faster to keep them from strangling. Jenny would have none of it. She pulled and reared up on her hind legs behind Elli, twisting to try to get out of her collar.

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  Without missing a stride, Elli lowered the leash close to the ground behind her to keep Jenny from slipping out of the collar. It worked, but Elli had to run in an odd lunging fashion. Her thighs began to burn as they reached a wide crossroad about a mile and half down from where they had started this bizarre tug-of-war dash. BJ and Doe darted to the left.

  “I planned to go that way anyway,” she shouted to them, a bit breathy from the fast-paced, lunging run. Now her shins were beginning to ache. She leaned back to try to slow them down, but it only made them strain more against the leashes and made Elli work harder. Jenny tried to sit down behind her for the hundredth time. “Move it. Now.”

  The lead dogs pulled her like she’d seen runaway horses do in a hundred different westerns while Jenny moseyed along like a drunken cowboy stumbling out of a saloon. Elli was tugged sideways in the battle of speed and lethargy.

  “Stop. Halt. No. Slow,” she called to the dogs in front. “Move. Faster. No. Go,” she shouted to Jenny behind her. She was certain her limbs would rip out of their sockets. “Hey, you’re supposed to be feeling my calm, assertive energy.”r />
  She spotted the pretty, white, slatted fence surrounding the dog kennel ahead of them. Maybe that’s where Doe and BJ were heading. They would have to slow down when they got near the fence, she thought. She’d get control of them there. Or not, she realized, as the dogs led her into the kennel through a small open gate she hadn’t noticed before. To make matters worse, the two young men whom she had seen working at the kennel with Ben and Doug, had witnessed her dog handling ineptness. In fact, by their laughter, they seemed to find quite a bit of humor in her running sideways and being ripped in half by three miserable dogs. The only consoling thing about this humiliating scene was that Ben wasn’t there to witness it. He was at Mass. She looked down at her watch. Nine-fifty. Mass had been over for twenty minutes.

  Maybe luck would be on her side this time, she thought, but was immediately relieved of that hope as Ben stepped out of the first cottage and leaned against a post on the front porch. He crossed his booted ankle and folded his arms over his denim-clad chest. “Arrogant jerk,” she mumbled.

  “You look like you’re trying to herd wild lions instead of housebroke dogs,” one of the men shouted as she ran past him. She recognized him as one of the costume-wearing pirates from a few days ago.

  “Only two are housebroke,” she smiled, trying to pretend she meant to run like this.

  “Is that how they walk dogs in Cali-forn-ee,” another man said, chuckling.

  “Not all of Cali-forn-ee,” the first pirate-guy said. “Just in Holly-la-de-la-wood.”

  Elli saw Doug get out of his red pickup truck near his cottage. “Hi Doug,” she shouted, lifting the leash as high as the dogs would allow to let him know she was using them as he suggested. But instead of waving back or smiling his usual quick smile, Ben’s foreman, her one ally, just shook his head. Her heart sank. The look of disappointment on his face made her want to cry. So what if she didn’t know how to walk dogs and was trotting through the kennel in front of his peers like an inebriated chicken?