Page 19 of Sheltering Lawson
“Yeah. Spooky, huh?”
“Very. Voodoo, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s very powerful. Most folks avoid talking about it, but do enjoy Samantha’s cooking. We should go there some time.” He said it casually like it was no big deal, but there was just a hint of strain in his voice that told me it was a big deal to him.
I smiled and nodded, but didn’t say that I probably wouldn’t be here long enough for another date. I shouldn’t have indulged in this one. But, Ethan had been so persuasive, and he had done all that work for me to have such a comfortable place to live while I was here. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable my car was until I got a chance to sink into that wonderful bed. I felt I owed him, even though I knew he was teasing me and cajoling me into going with him. We passed a carved sign that saidSutton and Fairchild Bait and Tackle.
He turned down a dirt and gravel road and drove until we entered a crushed shell parking lot.
There were a lot of cars and the shop was charming with its log cabin look, its wide inviting stairs and rustic appeal. A dock sat to the side of the shop with a seaplane, empty mooring ropes that meant many of the canoes and kayaks were out on the water. A boat which looked like a small screened porch on pontoons was most likely our destination sat next to the plane. Just beyond the white exterior of the plane, a dead cypress, overgrown and shadowed in the water, I saw two herons, both motionless, standing on one leg, the slight breeze ruffling their feathers.
There were also dark log-like structures in the water, and I wondered if they were alligators. I’d never seen one before in the wild, wondered how close I could get to one before it was dangerous.
He parked the truck and removed the keys, opening his door.
“This is nice.”
“I live here, too. In the back of the shop, a small apartment.”
“Like mine.”
He smiled when he exited the truck. “Yeah, just like yours.”
I’d replaced my dress with a pair of khaki shorts and a black tank top with a pink button shirt open, the tails tied at my waist. I’d changed into slip-on sneakers to keep from skidding on the deck.
When the door opened, Ethan waited until I swung my legs around. He reached for me, clasping me around the waist and lifting me out of the truck. My gaze suddenly catching on his, my heart beat a little harder, something warm, seductive and invisible pulled at me, like the primal pull of the moon on the tides.
“You ready to see my world? Have a little fun?”
“Fun…the word is familiar but I’m not sure I can grasp the meaning.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had any fun before today. I’d been trapped before I’d run, then the sheer exhaustion of surviving on scraps of jobs, some barely paying, some humiliating, and some downright degrading, like taking my clothes off. That was the night I knew I’d hit rock bottom, falling into a million tiny broken bits along the way.
How could I be honest like he’d mentioned when we were going to his parents? Such lovely people, areverendand his wife—Ethan, apreacher’sson forGod’ssake. How could I tell him I had recently been a stripper? That I had to run without getting paid because some guy wanted to have sex with me against my will. But I was more afraid of getting arrested and being found.
It was as close to a prostitute as I could get, and I was heartily ashamed that my desperation had driven me to take that job, that I had sacrificed my pride and respect to do something so abhorrent.
“Aw, don’t look so sad, darlin’.” He set me on my feet. “I’ll show you what it’s like to have a little fun.” Ethan Fairchild looked more like a devilish temptation than he did a preacher’s son…canting his head and giving me a boyish grin, he slipped his arm around me, clasping my shoulders and steering me down toward the dock.
“Okay, I’m in your hands,” I said, and then everything froze in me when his hands tightened reflexively on my shoulders. I wanted to be in his hold, but I’d already given myself a lecture on the matter. But I seemed to have a very hard time keeping my reasons for not getting involved to slip from my mind.
“Let the bayou seduce you, Lawson. It’s got a power all its own. Like magic.”
I smiled, liking that as I’d thought whimsically of myself as a beleaguered princess and Ethan as a knight. But I was sure that rescue wouldn’t be possible for me. Just as I thought that, Ethan came around me and stepped onto the boat. We’d be out of the reach of insects because of the screen and the cute gator print canvas roof would protect us from any kind of weather.
He reached out his hand, and I slipped mine into his, the warmth of his skin jolting through me. Boxes of begonias, their tiny pink flowers matching my shirt, shivered as I stepped aboard. The boat dipped a bit and I wobbled, but Ethan steadied me.
“I’ve got you, sugar,” he whispered as he directed me toward one of the two cushioned bench seats across from each other.
He started up the motor, the cacophony of the insect and animal sounds getting drowned out initially, then coming back full force as the motor settled into a purr. The bow cut through the dark, still water, the herons raising their heads to follow our progress as we headed for the deeper water in the center of the channel.
At first there were plenty of buildings: businesses, houses, and docks. I could see people going about their everyday lives, some rocking on a back porch soaking up the lazy Sunday heat, kids in the water by the creek beds, some crawfishing and others catching frogs. The peace of the area settled over me, and I felt a pang that I couldn’t stay here in what had to be the most beautiful spot on earth.
“There’s Imogene’s,” Ethan said as we passed it to our right. People were on the deck enjoying the late afternoon sunlight and a meal. Several of them waved to us. Touched unexpectedly at the warm gestures, we waved back.
The banks were studded with a riot of color, blooming magnolia trees, the huge, white flowers standing out from the large oblong leaves with their delicate beauty, clustering vines of jasmine wending their way through trees and bushes, thick, heavy wisteria, languorously draping its delicate purple and pink blooms everywhere. I breathed deep, the immediate area redolent with not only the heavenly spring scent of the blooms, but the dark, potent aroma of the bayou—a blending of growth, decay, and fish.
The air was heavy, but not oppressive as the sun dipped in the sky heading toward late afternoon. We motored along as I saw the steeple materialize in the distance.
“Is that the church where your daddy preaches?”
