Page 72 of Xavier

“I should like to be der when you do,” her grandmother said, lifting her chin.

“You can’t do that if you don’t come with us now,” Lissette said. “We’ll pay her a visit tomorrow, first thing.”

Her grandmother looked around the kitchen. “I can no leave. Who will feed Napoleon?”

“We can take him with us,” Lissette said.

“I have never left my home for a hurricane. It has protected me through all.”

“Please, Grand-mère.” Lissette took her grandmother’s hands in hers. “I know I haven’t been the best granddaughter and that I’ve fought and bitched since you brought me here. But I truly love you. You took me in when my own mother deserted me. You put up with my bad temper and bad decisions and were always here when I needed you.”

Her grandmother cupped her cheek. “I will always be here for you until de day I die.”

“Don’t let the day you die be with this hurricane,” Lissette said. “I want to prove to you that I can be a good granddaughter.”

“Mon cher,” Madame Gautier tipped Lissette’s face down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’ve been waitin’ for you to stop tryin’ to be extraordinary and just be yourself. Because you, mon cher, are extraordinary without tryin’.”

The two women clung to each other.

Xavier’s heart swelled with all the emotion in the room. Knowing what Lissette had experienced growing up—not being accepted by her mother, by bullies in school—this was what she’d needed. To be loved for who she was. To love herself for being herself.

Xavier’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out.

The name on the screen was Jeffries. He let it go to voicemail and slipped the phone back into his pocket, not feeling an iota of guilt for ignoring it. Actually, not feeling anything about the call or Jeffries.

Madame Gautier and Lissette broke apart, laughing through happy tears.

The older woman brushed her hands down her apron and nodded to Lissette. “I will pack.”

“Really?” Lissette’s face split in a grin, lighting up the room and Xavier’s heart. She needed to smile more often. She was pretty when she didn’t smile, but she was even more beautiful when her happiness shone through.

“If you would pour de poultice into jars, I’ll fill a suitcase,” her grandmother said.

“I’ve got this.” Lissette nodded. “I learned from the best.”

Madame Gautier hurried from the room.

By the time Lissette finished filling and capping the jars, her grandmother entered the kitchen. “My suitcases are in the bedroom.” Her warm, mocha skin flushed a ruddy red. “Dey are heavy.”

“We’ll get them,” Lissette promised.

“I will box dese and other items we might need while you carry suitcases to de skiff. Will it hold everyt’ing?”

“We’re taking the skiff and my pirogue. Between both of them, we can take whatever you need.”

“And Napoleon?” her grandmother insisted.

“I’ll get the cage out from under the porch for him,” Lissette said. “I wouldn’t want to leave him alone in a hurricane.”

Lissette led the way into her grandmother’s bedroom, where two large suitcases lay on the bed, bulging with their contents, along with two smaller ones on the floor.

“You take the small ones,” Xavier said. “I’ll get the big ones.”

“I’m not arguing.” Lissette grabbed the little ones and headed down the hallway, calling out as she passed the kitchen. “We’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be ready.” Madame Gautier continued filling a box with vials and jars.

Once out on the porch, Lissette stepped to the side. “You go ahead. I want to grab the chicken cage.”