Under the Autumn Sky Read online

  “Excuse me?”

  Picou didn’t blink. “All the books I’ve read about reconciling parents with their distant children encourage seeking a third party to help facilitate the relationship between parent and child.”

  Lou sank back onto the sofa. “I thought you invited me here because of Abram.”

  “Abram?” Picou’s brow furrowed. “I read auras and energies, my dear. The day I met you I sensed a powerful connection between you and my daughter. That night I dreamed about you. You’d found Sally in the woods and brought her out. I knew at that moment you were part of our future. Dreams are powerful indicators of not only the subconscious but of the forthcoming.”

  Lou didn’t know what to say. She’d been blindsided. Sure, she liked Sally, but she’d no idea Picou had wanted her to come to Beau Soleil for any other reason than Abram. “Oh.”

  The older woman fiddled with the heavy braid that lay over her shoulder. “Sally laughed when you were around. You’re the same age, and I sensed both of you needed a friend. I thought—”

  “I like Sally, but I don’t think you can force a friendship any more than you can fit a square peg into a round hole.”

  “No, you can’t, but I had this feeling. In fact, that was part of the surprise today. Sally will arrive in an hour or so, and we’re going to the game tomorrow night. I asked Abram to get us tickets near you and your sister.”

  Lou didn’t know what to say about this sort of friend matchmaking. She glanced back at the painting above the mantel. At Abram staring at her with an almost empathetic look. With Lori hanging out with her best friend’s family this weekend and Waylon hemmed up with recruiting, Lou would be alone, but she didn’t want the stress of Picou and Sally. “That sounds—”

  “I thought so,” Picou finished, not allowing her to disagree.

  Silence descended and Lou could hear the tick of the grandfather clock sitting near the open doorway. She said a prayer Waylon and Lori would bumble into the room, distracting Picou from her really weird plan.

  Didn’t happen.

  “Um, Picou, I’m not sure—”

  “Piddle,” Picou interrupted. “You’ve got to go to the game anyway. Might as well have some friendly faces with which to share the event. I don’t much care for football, but Panther stadium on a Saturday night is more than a football game. Sally has never attended one, so I told her to come on up.”

  “I should look for Waylon and Lori.”

  “I make you uncomfortable.”

  Lou stopped in midaction as she rose off the couch. “No.”

  “I can tell. It’s odd because usually I make people feel comfortable.” Picou tapped the book she still held. Her eyes looked misty, perhaps even tear-filled.

  “Mrs. Dufrene, you don’t make me uncomfortable. I suppose I just found it odd to be invited here, especially since Waylon is being recruited by your son. I’m not sure what sort of role you see me playing in your daughter’s life, but I—I—”

  She fell silent at the expression on Picou’s face.

  “She doesn’t want to be part of this family.” Picou raised eyes that shattered all the misgivings in Lou.

  “What?”

  “From the beginning it has been very hard for her. For all of us. Sally spent twenty-three years away from us, raised by another family. Her grandmother Enola Cheramie played no part in the kidnapping and had no idea the girl she raised as Sally was Della Dufrene. My daughter loves her grandmother and refuses to even think of leaving the Bayou. I’m not trying to rip her from all she’s known, but I still feel misgiving, maybe terror, in her. Feel like the slightest wrinkle will have her pulling back so hard and so fast I will never reach her.”

  The words tumbling from Picou’s lips were deeply personal and they tugged at Lou. Here was a mother who wanted nothing more than to be a part of her daughter’s life. What Lou wouldn’t give to have her own mother back. What she wouldn’t give for all of them—her, Lori and Waylon—to be part of a family again. With a home like Beau Soleil. With a support network to lean on when the chips were down.

  But Lou was alone.

  Especially with Waylon pulling away, struggling with some demons Lou couldn’t hunt down and destroy for him.

  Outside her weekly conversations with Abram, she’d felt so isolated. Like Picou. So maybe she should shut up and let the woman and her daughter sit with her. Without protest. “I understand, and I think it’ll be nice to have friendly faces beside me at the game. Glad you thought of it.”

  Picou withdrew a lace handkerchief from her kimono and dabbed her eyes. “I knew my vision was right all along. There’s something about you. Something good for this family.”

  Visions? Good Lord. Lou didn’t believe in that nonsense, and the only thing she could deliver to help the Dufrene family was her brother on National Signing Day—and even that was beyond her control. At that moment, she felt as if she’d been dropped into a parallel universe.

  The doorbell rang.

  Picou leaped from the armchair and slid on some strange-looking slippers as she walked toward the open doorway. “She’s always early. Excuse me for a moment and I’ll fetch my daughter and refreshments.”

  Lou didn’t have time to answer, for Picou flew out the door. Instead she rose and walked around the room, heading specifically toward the pictures lining the bookcase. There were many—most of them pictures of three little boys. One had been taken at a beach, another at a picnic, several among the oaks hunkering outside the house. In every one of them, a person could pick out the personalities. The oldest brother was serious and domineering, just as his sturdier stature and dark hair suggested. The youngest had golden hair and bright blue eyes with a devil-may-care grin and hungry eyes. Abram had a quiet strength, a sort of bemused expression. His light brown hair and loose-limbed elegance had him awkward during the early teen years but confident in his late teens. His smile held mystery.

  There were but three pictures of the Dufrene daughter—one with her twin brother as infants. Another as a toddler with light curls, blue eyes and a drooling grin. And the last presumably taken at Christmas with all four sitting on a red blanket beneath the arm of a bowed live oak. All the boys looked bored and refused to smile, but Della smiled a sweet grin beneath an enormous red-and-green plaid bow.

  “Here she is,” Picou said, balancing an old-fashioned silver tray with a plate of pralines and a pot of tea.

  Sally slipped inside, the wary look she’d worn last time firmly affixed. “Good afternoon, Lou.”

  Lou set the photograph of the Dufrene children back on the shelf. “Hey, just looking at some family pictures. You were a darling baby.”

  “Funny how light my hair was. It’s so dark now,” Sally tugged on a loose lock.

  “She was the cutest baby ever. So easygoing, too,” Picou said, setting the tray on the coffee table. “Let’s have a treat and then we can talk about a plan for the game. I have some friends who tailgate near the basketball—”

  “Well, that’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Sally perched on one of the chairs in the seating area. “My grandmere is not doing well today, so I might have to duck out on our plans for the game, Picou.”

  “Oh,” Picou said, pouring a cup of tea with an unsteady hand. “I hope she’s not too bad.”

  “Just weaker, but her blood work came back and doesn’t look good.” Sally accepted the tea before looking around as if she might find an escape hatch. If she did, Lou would go with her. This whole scenario felt like the red shoes she’d worn the night she’d first met Abram. Not meant for her.

  “I’m so sorry to hear she’s not doing better,” Picou murmured, picking up a praline and nibbling. “Abram was looking forward to your going.”

  Picou looked at Lou expectantly. Like she thought she might help persuade her.

  “Um, these pralines look good,” Lou said, walking toward the silver tray and picking up the carmelized pecan candy and taking a bite.

  All three women avert
ed their eyes to various places around the room.

  Lucille appeared at the door with Lori and Waylon behind her, and Lou gave an audible sigh. “Woo, this boy can eat. Picou, we need more boys around here to feed. Been too long.”

  “Won’t be too long till we get us another Dufrene boy. Annie and Nate are at the doctor’s office today for a checkup.” Picou’s face grew soft and her eyes sparkled as she looked at Lou. “My son and his wife are having a baby—little Paxton Laborde Dufrene is due next month.”

  “That’s wonderful. Congratulations,” Lou said, rising from the sofa, using her brother and sister as a reason to make a getaway. “Guess we need to get on the road.”

  Lori groaned. “Do we have to go yet? Lucille said I should walk along the bayou. I’m going to take pictures on my phone and send them to my friends.”

  “Yes, let your brother and sister piddle around a bit more. I haven’t had company in so long. Finish your tea, Lou,” Picou ordered.

  Lou suppressed the urge to say, Yes Ma’am.

  “You go on, Lori. I’m gonna stay here.” Waylon made a beeline for the candy, grabbing two, before sitting in a chair a size too small for him. “I like your house, Mrs. Dufrene.”

  “You can call me Picou.”

  He nodded as he chewed the praline. “The food is really good. Can Lucille come stay with us for a week or two? Or a lifetime?”

  Lucille shook her head. “I ain’t going nowhere, but I’ll feed you anytime you be needing it.”

  Picou nodded. “She’s good for something.”

  Lucille grunted but held on to her smile.

  Lou watched Lori and Waylon as they interacted with the Dufrene family. It was odd. Usually teenagers didn’t want to hang with older people, but her siblings looked delighted to gobble up sweets and tea, hanging on to stories of the old house and the people who’d walked the floors for over a century. Here’s what they’d all missed out on. Grandma’s cookies, trifling gossip and the sweet smells of a much-loved home. This is what Lou had failed to give them.

  To give herself.

  But what choice had she had?

  Lately she’d wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to have sent her brother and sister to Colorado. She could have gone to college somewhere close to her uncle and allowed them to feel more of a family than what they did. Obviously, she hadn’t met her brother’s needs and now Lori was scared to death to let go of Bonnet Creek and the past that would never be regained. Would they have fared better under their bachelor uncle? She’d like to think not. Up until this past year, she’d congratulated herself on doing a pretty decent job.

  “We really do have to go now.” Lou used her best stern voice.

  Waylon took two pieces of candy and stood. “Thank you for inviting us to stop by, Picou. Mrs. Dufrene. I hope you didn’t go to all this trouble for me.”

  Picou’s brow furrowed. “Of course not, dear. I’ve no stake in where you decide to play football. I merely wanted to get to know your sisters better. They interested me.”

  Her brother delivered his own befuddled look. “My sisters?”

  “When I find people interesting, I like to get to know them.”

  “So you don’t find me interesting?” Waylon sounded confused.

  Picou laughed. “I believe you have too many people interested in you, Waylon.”

  “Yeah, too many,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll find Lori. Thank you again for having us.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Sally looked at Lucille. “I hear you have pie?”

  “Come on. There’s one piece left. Might as well finish it off,” Lucille said.

  They called out their goodbyes and disappeared, leaving Lou alone, once again, with Abram’s mother.

  Picou walked through the hall toward the foyer, pausing when she reached the front door. She turned and looked thoughtful. “You thought I invited you here because of Abram. Am I missing something?”

  “No,” Lou said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

  “I’ve been known to misread an aura or an energy. Perhaps I picked up on the wrong current. There were some currents present. Strong ones,” Picou mused, almost to herself.

  “Mrs. Dufrene, with all due respect—”

  “Picou.”

  “Okay, Picou. There can’t be anything between your son and me,” Lou said, using a firm voice. Like if maybe she could get Picou to believe the statement, she would, too.

  For a moment the woman looked at her hard as if delving into her mind, or more likely her heart. “‘Water finds a way’ is a saying we use all the time in these easily flooded areas. Have you heard it before?”

  “Sure. It means that no matter what one does to prevent water from coming in, often it will go where it wishes.”

  Picou nodded. “Exactly.”

  The older woman opened the door and ushered her onto the wide porch, but said nothing else.

  “Thank you for having us,” Lou said, extending her hand toward Picou, wondering if she always left such cryptic comments floating in the air.

  The woman ignored her outstretched hand and instead enfolded her in a hug. “Thank you for coming. Beau Soleil needed you here.”

  Lou stepped back when Picou released her. “No offense, but you say such strange things.”

  Picou smiled. “Now, that’s a compliment.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ABRAM TOOK A moment to breathe deeply and survey the commotion around him. Some players were dressed and sitting in the locker room quietly, earbuds in ears, eyes closed. Others were half-dressed, heading to the trainer to get wrapped, still others were joking around, lacing up cleats, adjusting pants and doing other weird game-day routines. But above all else there was a hum—the sheer electricity, indescribable to those who’d never experienced game day. The hum was so intense it was nearly palpable.

  “Yo, Coach D, you want me to see if Doc will give me a little something-something for first half?”

  Something-something was a cortisone shot and the receiver’s strained ankle likely needed it.

  “Go ahead and see what he says.” Abram moved toward the meeting room where the offensive coaching staff sat reviewing strategies and the game plan. The work had been done, and the hay was in the barn. And still the coaches needed something to occupy their thoughts as much as the players did.

  For a moment, Abram hesitated, standing in the hall, leaning against the Wild Panther board of goals, and recalled last night.

  Lou.

  Just the thought of her, smiling, unsure, delighted, contemplative as she licked chocolate icing off her fork in Coach Holt’s dining room made him ache. Usually, he didn’t attend the reception held for prospects’ families, though coaches had a standing invitation. Normally he elected to go over scouting reports and fret over last-minute adjustments to the offensive schemes, but last night he’d gone to the dessert reception, dragging an unwilling and somewhat suspicious Jordan with him.

  Coach Holt had noticed.

  Had the head coach suspected it had to do with Lou?

  Abram wouldn’t put it past the man to pick up on those pulsing silent signals. Holt was known for his ability to smell bullshit for miles, so why wouldn’t he suspect his tight ends coach was head over heels in lust, love, whatever with the top tight end prospect’s sister?

  Lou’s eyes found his several times, and when he’d moseyed over to talk to her, he’d noted how uncomfortable she seemed among the other recruits’ parents. She was a beautiful unique painting in a gallery of boring landscapes, and didn’t even realize it.

  He’d tried not to eat her with his eyes. “How’s everything going?”

  “Well,” she said with a self-conscious shrug. “Everything has been impressive. The academic center was state of the art, and the tutors were ‘hot’ or at least that’s what Waylon said.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, we find the smart ones who have other attributes, as well. Makes studying easier to schedule.”<
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  “He liked the professors who ate lunch with him. Made it more real for him, and it reminded me this is more than about football.”

  “It’s about his total future,” Abram remarked, grabbing a powder-sugared cookie and placing it on his plate. “Most of these kids have stars in their eyes, thinking they’ll be playing on Sunday. They neglect to realize most of them won’t even make an NFL combine.”

  Lou licked her lips and studied the buffet lamp. “Your home is lovely.”

  “My home? This is Coach Holt’s house.”

  She blinked and jerked her eyes to meet his gaze. “I meant Beau Soleil. I dropped by on the way, remember?”

  “Picou,” he said, nibbling on the cookie. He could only imagine what his mother had done to shove Lou his way. No sense in telling the meddling matriarch something between him and Lou wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Lou had said business only and he was trying like hell to uphold her request. “Did she show you her Italian lace wedding gown? Suggest how wonderful it would look on you?”

  Lou nearly choked on her punch. “What?”

  “She’s been parading women in front of me for the last four years. One time I went home and she had three sitting on the couch like it was the damn dating game.” He shivered dramatically. “You can’t imagine what she’s like.”

  “I think I can.” Lou smiled, setting the empty cup on the waiter’s tray as he circled through the chatting parents. “But she’s not matchmaking me and you, she’s matchmaking me and Sally.”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “She thinks Sally could use a friend. Oh, and me, too, of course. She wasn’t arranging an interrogation for your future spouse, not that I’m saying that’s even a possibility, but she was setting up a play date for me and your sister.”

  “Why isn’t it possible?”

  Lou blinked. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” He leaned closer and tried to make it look like he reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “Stop wanting you? Stop needing to touch you, wrap that pretty hair around my fingers, slide my lips down—”