Gift of Wonder. Lenora Worth
he wondered what was going through Alice Bryson’s mind right now.
Was she thinking about him? Or was she thinking up ways to stop him before he ever got started, just to prove a point about some idiot who’d done her wrong? And why did he care, anyway? He’d get the job done. He’d build his community. He wanted to do this. Had to do it, for more reasons than he could explain or even justify to himself. But he’d never factored in that the woman who’d inadvertently caused him to come down here on this crazy whim might also turn out to be the very one who’d put a crimp in his plans. Maybe he should just go back to Shreveport.
You’re not a quitter, he told himself. You’ve dealt with much worse than a jilted blonde with an ax to grind. And he’d always done things on his own terms, even though Aunt Nancy had urged him to turn to God for guidance.
But Jonah didn’t need God’s help on this. He just needed Alice Bryson to play nice and let him do his job. And he hoped while he was here he could find the truth at last. He wasn’t concerned so much about Alice. He’d get around her and build his new community, one way or another. But he was concerned about those questions he’d had all his life. What if he didn’t like the answers?
Maybe that was why he was so worried he hadn’t been able to finish eating the best crawfish po’boy he’d ever tasted.
Alice Bryson was just one person. One very forceful person. He’d worked for months on clearing the way for approval so he could get the whole town in on this renovation. He’d make them believe he could do this. He had to. Because he needed to do this. He’d come on this quest, this journey, to fulfill his creative need to build things, but the main reason he was here was to fill that empty place deep inside his soul.
He didn’t exactly want to call it a “God moment,” as some of his friends back home might say, but it sure had seemed that way when he’d stumbled across Alice’s intriguing story. He had to help Bayou Rosette. Because he was pretty sure he came from the Mayeaux family and that this was the place where his biological mother had been born and raised, right across the bayou from Rosette House.
And somehow, while he was here he had to find out why that same mother had abandoned him and never looked back.
Chapter Three
“I don’t understand why you were so rude to the man.”
Shoving her floral tote bag and her purse into her yellow vintage Volkswagen, Alice closed her eyes and counted to ten to drown out her sister’s voice. How could she explain to Lorene that Jonah Sheridan reminded her of all she’d lost? She’d placed her heart in a stranger’s hand once before and look where that had gotten her. Jilted and tossed aside, left embarrassed and bitter.
“Alice, are you listening to me?”
Alice turned at the door of her car. “I hear you loud and clear, Lorene, and I’ve tried to tell you how I feel. The man has this lofty plan. It just sounds too good to be true to me. And I wasn’t rude. I just didn’t get all giddy when he went on and on about building a new community across from us.”
“Not right across,” Lorene reminded her. “I think a park would be wonderful across the bridge. “I could take the baby for walks over there.”
Alice shook her head. “I knew better than to tell you anything. You can’t go spreading that around. Everything he told me was off the record.”
“I understand,” Lorene said, holding the water hose out to send a spray over her geraniums and mums. “I won’t say a word. But I’m sure the whole town is speculating about what he wants to do, since I’ve had phone calls all day about it.”
“And that’s just it,” Alice replied, getting in the tiny convertible. “It’s all speculation and I’m tired of speculators and curiosity seekers and people thinking they can just come in and take over and make things better again. They can’t make it better and we both know that.”
Lorene dropped her hose and came to stand by the car. “Alice, you need to work on your negative attitude. You’ve got to look at the bright side. Our house was spared. We’re okay. And everybody in this town did what they could to help each other. What’s wrong with someone else coming to help, too? We need some new ideas around here, or we’ll keep on suffering. I just don’t see what’s wrong with that. And even though you went through the worst before, this is different. It’s a little bit of hope. Real hope.”
“I’m fresh out of hope,” Alice countered, wondering how Lorene would feel if Jay had left her high and dry at the altar. But then, Jay Hobert was not that kind of man. He had integrity and he loved Lorene. Cranking the car, she waited for it to sputter to life then looked up into Lorene’s disappointed face. “I’m sorry, Lo. I should be more like you, but I can’t see the bright side of this.”
Lorene leaned in close, as close as her growing stomach would let her. “Honey, he read your story. That means your words made a difference to someone, and this particular someone isn’t a fly-by-night drifter out to do us in. Didn’t you write that story so people would remember Bayou Rosette and all that our ancestors did to make this a good town, and to make people more aware that we’re still alive and kicking around here?”
Alice looked out over the garden, remembering her parents sitting in the old swing, smiling and giggling. The yard was becoming dormant now, shutting down for fall and winter. She wished she could just shrink away and hibernate, too. Why was she being so stubborn about this? “Yes, I did write about our history to attract visitors. I just wanted people to see us, to notice us.”
Lorene rested her hand on her stomach. “Well, somebody did. And I say more power to the man.”
“Power—that’s what scares me,” Alice replied. Then she patted her sister’s hand. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m sure Dotty will be all over this like a duck on a june bug. I might not like the man, but if anyone gets this story, it’s gonna be me. I have to convince Dotty of that.”
“You’ll do it justice, I know,” Lorene said. “You’re always fair. Just try to have an open mind, okay?”
“Okay, all right,” Alice said as she shifted into Reverse and backed the car out of the driveway. “I’ll behave, I promise.”
Lorene didn’t look so sure. Alice had given her sister plenty of reason to doubt over the years since their parents had died in a car wreck out on the interstate. Alice had been thirteen, Lorene eighteen, when it had happened. They had clung together and refused to leave their home even though friends and relatives from around the state had offered them shelter. Lorene had finished high school, but instead of going to Tulane as she’d always dreamed, she had taken classes at a nearby community college so she could stay with Alice. Then she had worked it out so that a retired aunt could come and help out with Alice while Lorene worked at night at a local restaurant. Somehow, between the modest inheritance their parents had left and their combined work money, they’d managed to hang on to their house and land—even through a major storm and even through Alice’s devastation after Ned Jackson’s lies.
So much sacrifice. Lorene had worked at night to make extra money, just so they could keep Rosette House and so Alice could get the degree at Tulane that Lorene never had the chance to pursue. Between her scholarships and her own job, Alice had managed to get through college, but she came home the minute she graduated, armed with a journalism degree and a restless spirit. She didn’t want to be anywhere else, she reminded herself now. She owed her sister so much. Maybe she could try to change her attitude, for Lorene’s sake, at least. And to remind herself that she’d come home hoping to make changes, hoping to create her own niche here in the place she loved.
What if Jonah Sheridan could help her do that? Would that be so wrong? Alice didn’t have the same strong convictions as her sister. She prayed, same as Lorene, but she wasn’t so sure her requests were always as pure as her sister’s. But in spite of her doubts and her cynical nature, Alice still held out hope, too. She didn’t like to admit that, but if she looked closely she knew she’d find a little glimmer of hope somewhere deep