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They chattered about it for another ten minutes, and when there was a lull, Alphé asked the children to help him haul his things out to the truck. He’d have to shower and get ready to go in his friend’s boat, so he remembered to take soap, a towel and his toothbrush and toiletries. There would be no more hanging around.

Using common sense for a change, Lola didn’t accompany the family as they said goodbye to Alphé. Watching them file down the walkway to his truck filled her with an emptiness she was unfamiliar with, much deeper than the empty feeling she’d had when the kids were small and she was left alone for days at a time when Alphé was deep-sea fishing with his brother and father.

In retrospect, those days were the glory days, with all the women together in Mae Beaumont’s rambling bayou shack, the elders helping care for the children, everyone pitching in to cook and serve. She wasn’t alone. Her sister-in-law was also left behind while the brothers were out making a good living.

Then tragedy struck, three deaths in rapid succession, first Alphé’s brother, Rod, killed in a freak accident when a trawl line pulled him under, and by the time Alphé got to him with a knife to cut him loose, he’d drowned. Then her father-in-law, cut down at the young age of forty-five with a heart attack, probably from a broken heart.

The third, and the worst for Lola, the loss of her baby. But it was the circumstances that would haunt her; unbeknownst to Alphé, it wasn’t his baby she was carrying. But she tortured him unmercifully, telling him he was a horrible person for not giving her the support and attention she needed and wanted.

The relationship Alphé had with their four children was to be envied. She didn’t have it with her father, yet her parents were still married. The children loved Alphé unconditionally, and he loved them. Where did she go wrong so that love wasn’t given to her by her children, as well?

They stood on the sidewalk and watched their father get into his piece-of-crap truck and drive off.

“Ma, you can go back to your thing,” Angela said. “I told Dad I babysit for infants; I think we can take care of ourselves.”

“Maybe I should stick around home tonight. We’ll make our own Twelfth Night party.”

“What will we do?” Noel asked, leery about anything that his mother might arrange for them.

“How about cards? Cards or Monopoly?”

“Yes, Mom! I love Monopoly,” he said excitedly. “Can we invite friends?”

That idea made all the kids happy.

“Of course. You know your friends are always welcome here. I think I’ll bake cookies like Grandma does,” she said, trying for domesticity. The older children looked at each other and grimaced.

“No cookies, Ma, it’s fine.”

Alphé drove back to the marina. The bags of clothes and personal items would go into the cabin of his boat. He opened the door of the head and decided he could shower there. They’d been using the toilet when they were out fishing, so hopefully, the shower would work. After he hooked up the water supply from the dock, he went to the electrical control panel and jimmied the hot water heater switch. It didn’t take long, less than ten minutes, before he had hot water to shower.

The berth had a decent mattress, but no sheets. He should have taken sheets from the house. He’d shop for linens when he could. It was already feeling like home.

After showering, he chose his clothes carefully. It felt important to make the effort. Katrina seemed exacting on everything. He couldn’t put his finger on it, there was so much more to learn about her, but he had a feeling she would notice what he wore.

Clean jeans and a T-shirt from a past Mardi Gras seemed like a good choice for a Twelfth Night party, with an ancient denim jacket that had belonged to his brother. Leather cowboy boots came next. He’d loved riding, but working seven days a week twelve or more hours a day precluded horses from his current life. He wondered if Katrina rode.

After lowering the dinghy, he jumped down into it, started the engine, and navigated around the boats in the marina. He saw two more boats leaving from the dockmaster’s dock, a rarity on most nights. He’d follow them out, and if they made a right turn in a few minutes, they were all going to the same place.

Sure enough, the boats headed to the evil eye, the dock lights blazing. The boats were all tied up nose in so there was room for more than usual. Alphé waited for the boat in front of him to let his passengers off. It was low tide so there was lots of groaning and laughing trying to get up on the dock. Then it was Alphé’s turn to dock. He jumped up on the dock with agility, and one of the women in the group pretended to swoon.

“Pay no attention to us,” the guy said, and Alphé saluted him, feeling like a jerk, but what else should he have done?

He pretended to need something in the boat and jumped back down, waiting for them to get off the dock before he got out again. Socializing was exhausting. He checked his phone for service and saw that he had it, must be close enough to Maggie’s cell phone booster, and he quickly sent Katrina a text.I’m here.

The tent sides were opened to the water, and he saw a tall, slender woman checking out her phone, then looking up, out at the water. It was Katrina. He didn’t know her well enough yet to recognize her from a distance without the sun shining on her head, but he was sure it was her. Years ago, he’d sat in the car waiting for Lola to finish shopping at the department store in Saint John’s Parish, and he’d recognized her walk long before he could see her face.

“Hey you,” Katrina said, holding out her hand.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“When I chose these clothes, I had you in mind, hoping you’d like them.”

“I do,” he said. “Like I said, you’re beautiful. Am I dressed okay?”

“You’re hot,” she said, smiling. “There’s no other word.”

Walking up to the tent hand in hand, Alphé had his first misgiving. He didn’t know Katrina at all, what her lifestyle was, what she wanted out of life, all things he hoped to learn about her before long. The big question, were his lack of education and his profession—fishing was the most dangerous job in the United States—going to make a difference to Katrina?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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