In Dreams. Patricia Rosemoor
his chest and his expression nonchalant. He was letting her tell it, thankfully.
“My car got stuck at the edge of the bayou and your son kindly brought me to town to get help. I need to have someone haul the car back onto the road and check it out to see that everything still works properly.”
The last thing she needed was a breakdown on the way back to New Orleans.
“Oh, you poor dear. The rain was terrible…last night.” Marie Guidry gave her son a look before adding, “That must have been a scare for you. Come in the kitchen and I’ll get you something to eat. Food always makes a body feel better.”
Lucy said, “I’m not hungry. Justin already fed me.”
His mother’s eyes rounded. “Oh, he did, did he?”
“What could I do, Mama, but feed a woman in distress?”
“So her car went into the bayou…at the fishing camp…how?”
“Well, not right at the fishing camp. Of course that’s not possible.” Justin suddenly sounded nervous. “Say, how about we have some coffee. Mama makes the best chicory coffee this side of New Orleans.”
Justin was doing his best to distract his mother.
Though she turned back toward her kitchen, his mother asked, “And how would you know I make the best chicory? You taste every one in the parish?”
“Pretty darn near.”
The warmth between mother and son made Lucy feel right at home. Maybe more at home than at her own parents’ house. Not that her parents didn’t care for her and her sister or welcome them home. They simply weren’t as touchy-feely or as open with their emotions.
In the kitchen, a smaller, fairer version of Marie Guidry sat at the kitchen table and chopped vegetables, throwing them into a big pot. Justin introduced her to Lucy as Tante Jeannette.
“Nice to see that you have good taste in women, Justin. Your mother was beginning to worry that she was going to have to hire a matchmaker for you.”
Startled by the woman’s inference that she and Justin were an item, Lucy was just about to set her straight when she was interrupted by the heavy clump-clump of a male tread down the back stairs toward them.
“Ah, Stephen,” Justin called out. “Just the man I was looking for.”
“What, you need someone to cut up your bait for you?” asked the younger, taller, softer version of Justin.
“I need someone with a good strong truck and chain. I need to get a lady’s car unstuck. The lady being Ms. Lucy Ryan here.”
No smile crossed Stephen’s lips as he gave Lucy the once-over, but he nodded in a friendly manner. “Should I round up Marcus, then?”
Justin lowered his voice to ask, “You know whose bed he’s in?”
“I heard that,” Marie Guidry said from across the room. She was at the stove pouring coffee in two mugs.
“Well, do you know?” Justin asked her.
“I try not to think about it.” She gave Lucy an exasperated expression. “Three sons over thirty and not one of them married or even seeming concerned about settling down. I’ll never have any grandbabies at this rate.”
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Justin said, “there’s plenty of time for those.”
“I mean before I’m too old to enjoy them.”
“Watch what you wish for, Marie,” Tante Jeanette warned her. “For all you know, Marcus already has a brood spread over the parish.”
Justin sighed the dramatic sigh of a man who had an unwanted weight on his shoulders. “So, does anyone know where Marcus is or not?”
“Marcus is right here,” rumbled a voice as its owner came through the back door.
His younger twin brothers were sort of identical in the way of stature and features. But while Stephen was neatly pressed and handsome in a quiet way, Marcus was unkempt and incredibly fetching with a day’s growth and hair that hadn’t yet been brushed.
Lucy could well believe he’d just gotten out of some lucky woman’s bed….
Okay, so she had bed on the brain thanks to Marcus’s captivating older brother.
Justin introduced Lucy to the twins and then sketched out her plight, leaving out the details just as she had done with his mother.
“We’ll have your car out in no time,” Stephen assured her. “You’ll be on the way back to New Orleans before supper.”
“If that’s what the lady wants,” Marcus said, arching an eyebrow.
Justin gave him a brotherly whack and said, “We’re on it, Lucille. Mama and Tante Jeanette, make sure the lady doesn’t pine for my company in the meantime.” He was about to follow the twins out the door, when he hesitated and looked back at Lucy, adding, “Perhaps you ought to stay in the kitchen, chère, away from interested eyes.”
With that he left. Lucy felt the weight of curiosity aimed her way.
Thanks a bunch, Justin, she thought, facing the two women waiting for her to explain that mysterious comment.
“Is that my coffee?” she asked, taking the mug from Marie. Quickly, she drank it down. “Mmm, this is the best chicory. What’s your secret?”
Lucy prayed Justin and his brothers would hurry, since she had no idea of how long she could keep his mother talking about her culinary prowess.
“THIS ISN’T GOING to be too hard,” Stephen said, linking the chain under the back bumper of Lucy’s car. “Probably best if you get in and start it and put it in reverse. Then Marcus can pull easy-like while you give it a little gas.”
As if he hadn’t gotten cars out of Louisiana bayou muck many times over the years, Justin thought.
But that was Stephen. Precise. Always going over the details ad nauseam. He didn’t want to label his little brother obsessive-compulsive, but if the shoe fit… Even being an accountant reflected that part of his too-organized personality.
“Okay, we’re set,” he said, sliding behind the wheel and starting Lucy’s car.
Stephen signaled Marcus, who put the truck in gear. And when Justin slid Lucy’s transmission into in reverse, the car slid out of the sucky ground and back onto the gravel like a greased pig. When they both stopped, Stephen unhooked the chain and threw it in the back of the truck.
Marcus slid out of the truck, yelling, “Stephen, you drive. I’m going to catch a ride in the lady’s car.”
He settled into the passenger seat next to Justin, who waited until he’d backed up to the paved road and turned the car onto it before asking, “What’s up, Marcus?”
“That’s what I was wondering, B.B.”
B.B. standing for Big Brother. Only Marcus referred to him in that casual way. Stephen…well, Stephen was Stephen.
“You’re referring to?” Justin asked.
“Lucy Ryan. Lu-u-ci-i-ille.”
Justin was annoyed by the way Marcus picked up on his nickname for Lucy. “Like I said, she’s a lady in distress.”
On the way over here to rescue her car, he’d drawn a graphic picture about what had happened the night before. The danger part, anyway.
His brothers had agreed to keep an eye out for the two men in case they came looking for Lucy. If they came too close and pushed too far, they would be sorry, Justin knew. No one messed with the Guidry boys in these parts and got away with it. They were a force to be reckoned with, Stephen included.
“So why do you think Lucille ended up out