Jacques rolled his eyes. So much for trying to be quiet on his Gibson after his grandfather went to bed. But Pal was right. He was writing something. It just wasn’t coming together. The melody stirred in his blood, but so far, no lyrics rose to meet it. And he’d waited for the words to hit him like they usually did in odd moments of the day, but the moleskin he always carried in his pocket in case inspiration struck hadn’t been opened indays.
“Sorry if I kept you up,” he muttered, pushing away from the table. He snagged his grandfather’s empty mug and brought it back to the counter where hiswaited.
Pal just made coughing, snuffling noise to dismiss Jacques’s apology. Even though it was his house, Pal never held that over his head. He refused to charge his grandson rent — though Jacques covered the utilities and helped out with the groceries. And Pal had never treated Jacques like a child — even when he had been one. But the two of them hadn’t quite reached the point where they lived strictly as roommateseither.
Maybe because they both knew the situation would have to change sometime. Jacques wouldn’t always be an Uber driver looking for music gigs — at least he seriously hoped not. And Pal wouldn’t need a two-story — albeit modest — house on Saint Louis Street as he approachedeighty.
Jacques stirred sugar into his coffee and tried not to dwell on what the next step for each of them wouldmean.
Chapter 2
“Ineed another book,”Holi said over thephone.
“But we packed a book.” Rainey pinned the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could finish her crochet stitch without losing herplace.
“And I’ve been here twenty-four hours—” Holi’s cough burst over the line, and Rainey immediately winced in guilt. Her sister cleared her throat and talked through her straining voice. “… and I finished it this morning. Could you please bring me the next one? I’m dying here,Rain.”
“You’re not dying,” Rainey scolded. “You have pneumonia. And you’re going to getbetter.”
“More books,” Holi whined. “It’ssoboring. Besides, what are you doing? Crocheting on the front porch like somegranny?”
Rainey leaped off her favorite front porch settee as though it were on fire. “No…” she lied unconvincingly. “Isn’t there… like… a lending library at the hospital? Couldn’t you find something to read there?” She was terrible. She knew she was terrible. If their roles were reversed, Holi would already have keys in hand and a stack of books ready to go. She’d zip across town in her Mini Cooper and be at Rainey’s side in fifteen minutestops.
But for Rainey Memphis Reeves, it wasn’t sosimple.
With Archie, her four-year-old golden-brown poodle mix at her heels, she opened the screen door and pushed her way inside the custom-built house she shared with her sister. Technically, the house belonged to their mother — after her parents’ divorce. And technically, Rainey and Holi were only half-sisters — the Reeves’ half — but Rainey couldn’t remember a time when her big sis, Billie Holiday Reeves, wasn’t a part of herlife.
“I don’twantjust any old book. I wantThe Wayward One.It’s by Danielle Harmon.It’s—”
“I thought you read that one already,” Rainey said, tucking her crochet hook into the body of her unfinished slipper-sock and stuffing it into her craft bag with itsmate.
“No—” Holi’s protest ended on a cough. “You’re thinking ofThe Wild One.That’s the first in the series. I want the lastone.”
“How many arethere?”
“This is number five, and I want to finish the series before I die.” Holi tried to heave a resigned sigh, but a coughing fit overtookher.
“Stop it,” Rainey begged inwhisper.
“Please,” Holi begged in return. “I know I’m asking a lot, but Ash won’t get off work until six, and I can’t just lie here for another ninehou—”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll bring more books. Where are they, and which ones do youwant?”
Holi cheered and then coughed before instructing Rainey to go upstairs to her room. She then rattled of a list of five titles, and Rainey wondered just how long her sister planned to be in thehospital.
Rainey stayed on the phone until she found each new book. “You really need a Kindle,” she muttered, shoving each into the purple and gray slouchy backpack she’d crocheted for Holi lastfall.
“You know I’m a purist. Paper forever,” Holivowed.
“Yeah, but if you had a Kindle, you wouldn’t need to wait on me.”And I wouldn’t need to figure out how to get there,Rainey addedsilently.
“So… how are you going to get here?” Holi asked as if she’d read her mind. The forced casual tone of her voice was as subtle as a neonsign.
Rainey flopped down on Holi’s bed and sighed. Archie jumped onto the mattress beside her and curled up with his head on her thigh. Running her fingers through his supple curls, she sighedagain.
Her bike was out of the question. Lourdes Hospital was too far away. If Holi had been admitted to Lafayette General, she could bike there in about ten minutes — and do it without risking her life on Ambassador Caffery Parkway. But Holi’s insurance listed Lourdes as the preferred provider, so when her bronchitis — the second bout she’d had this spring — upgraded to pneumonia, that was where they’d gone. By ambulance. And Rainey had taken the bushome.
“I could take the bus,” she hedged. Rainey hated taking the bus, but if Holi couldn’t drive her somewhere she absolutely had to go, and if she couldn’t ride her bike to get there, she’d wrap herself up in her mocha-brown, worsted-weight, cashmere cape cardigan, put on her sunglasses, and walk to the bus stop in front of their neighborhood by Our Lady of FatimaChurch.
