Page 12 of Broken Bayou
I’m reaching for the first tape when I hear the doorbell downstairs ring. I freeze. Wait. It rings again, this time like someone has their finger pressed on it and won’t let go.
I race to the bottom of the stairs and fully expect to see the lawyer, LaSalle, on the other side of the door. Instead, I see a police officer wearing a navy polo shirt with a badge sewn on, khaki cargo pants, and mirrored sunglasses. Tall, with cropped hair, and built like a baseball player. His weapon is fastened onto a nylon rig belt around his waist.
He looks me up and down, and then I remember what I’m wearing. I tug at the hem of my short silky robe and straighten my shoulders.
“Can I help you?”
The officer studies me with a serious expression. “Yes, ma’am. Are you Dr. Willa Watters?”
“Yes.”
He pauses. “You’re under arrest.”
I stare at him, barefoot and gawking. “Excuse me?” I think of my car, sitting in front of what should be an empty house. Somebody must have called the police. But under arrest?
“I’m not trespassing. I swear. I have a letter—”
The officer laughs. “Willa, I’m just kidding.” He removes his sunglasses. “It’s me. Travis Arceneaux.” The dimple pops out next to his crooked smile.
A blush rises to my cheeks, and I clear my throat before I speak, which still takes several seconds. “Oh my God. Travis.” His blue eyes shine. Most of him is just as I remember. Tall, with broad shoulders, dimpled smile. But fine lines form beside his eyes when he smiles now, and a deep crease sits between his brows. I wonder what he thinks, looking at me. Is he noticing my creases as well? I’m not sure I’ve held up as well as he has, even with the dermatologist I can now afford. I wish I’d brushed my teeth before I came down. Hell, put clothes on. I try to remember if I’d put deodorant on this morning.
“You should’ve seen your face,” Travis says, still laughing. “You looked guilty.”
A small knot tightens in my stomach, but I ignore it. “I look tired is what I look.”
“Nah. You look great.”
His smile matches mine. It’s been almost twenty years since I’ve seen that smile. Since we rolled on a levee together, his hands making familiar territory of my body. Since I showed up at his house in the middle of the night, panicked and scared, asking for his help. Since he helped me. The knot in my stomach turns into a hard stone. And now he’s a cop.
“How’d you know I was here?” I say, working to keep the nerves out of my voice.
He lowers his chin. “Really? You think you could have kept the fact you were back in town secret? News travels fast in small towns. Not to mention my brother said he saw a fancy woman driving around yesterday. And Charlie LaSalle likes to talk loud at Nan’s too.”
The truck that roared past me yesterday on Main Street. His brother. If I remember correctly, Travis had six brothers, most of whom had moved away by the time I met him. I figured Travis would have moved, too, considering what his homelife had been like. He calledit shitty back then. I’ve learned enough to call it what it actually was, toxic at best, abusive at worst. It’s one of the things we had in common.
Travis nods and looks around. An awkward silence settles around us. I shuffle on my feet, toying with the idea of lying and saying I have to be somewhere so he’ll leave. This reunion doesn’t need to happen. Definitely not part of the get-in-and-get-out-quickly plan.
“Well, thanks for coming by.”
“Sure. I’m glad I—” Travis starts, and I interrupt.
“Want a cup of coffee?” So much for my plan.
“You bet.” He whistles as he crosses into the foyer. “Been a few years since I’ve been in here. Sorry to show up unannounced. And I was sorry to hear about your great-aunts.”
“It’s fine. Thanks. Been a few years since I’ve been here too.” Our eyes linger on each other a fraction too long. I glance down at my small robe. “You can head on into the kitchen. I need to change.”
He peeks at my legs. “If you insist, but don’t change on my account.”
The heat in my cheeks deepens. What is wrong with me? I feel like I’m fourteen again. I hurry up the steps and return to the kitchen a few minutes later. Travis looks out the window over the sink. “Didn’t this place seem bigger when we were kids?”
“It did.”
He turns around and chokes on his sip of coffee. “What are you wearing?”
I look down at my pressed suit pants. “What?”
He laughs. “You going to court or a funeral?”
