Chapter 12
Gerard leaned over her shoulder, resting a hand against the small of her back. “He has the same hair and facial features as your father. On the other hand, you look like your mother.”
Bernie had always been told she resembled her mother. “I think it made it easier for her that I didn’t remind her of my father. She never remarried after my father left.” She stared at the last picture of them as a happy family of three. “I always hated him for breaking her heart.”
“Well,” Shelby said, “that’s a hell of a note. Kind of puts a damper on our little party here.”
“Any idea of why Chauvin was in Bayou Mambaloa?” Bernie asked.
Remy shook his head. “Now that Swede knows he’s connected to the mafia, he’s putting out feelers to see if anyone is talking about why Chauvin left New Orleans.”
Gerard pulled Bernie close. “They’ll keep us informed. In the meantime, all of Bayou Mambaloa is here for you.”
Shelby nodded. “You might want to say something to them.”
Bernie nodded, her head spinning with the knowledge that she’d had an older brother. A sibling she’d never meet if his foot was any indication of what had happened to him. She’d always wished she’d had a brother or sister growing up.
She walked with Gerard out onto the porch and looked over the lawn where people talked, danced and mingled with their friends and neighbors.
These people were her family. They’d joined forces to help her when she’d thought she’d lose the farm.
Shelby strode over to the band. When they finished the song they were playing, she motioned for them to stop.
As an introvert, speaking to crowds had always been difficult for Bernie. When she looked out at the faces looking back at her, she reminded herself they weren’t strangers but friends and neighbors she’d known all her life.
She faced them and spoke from her heart.
“When I lost my mother, then my grandparents and my husband, I thought I was alone in this world. You have proved me wrong. I’m not alone when I’m surrounded by a community of people I consider family.
You’re there when I need a hand or just someone to talk to.
As I look at all of your faces, I’m overwhelmed with love and joy and thankful I have you in my life.
Thank you for your incredible generosity. ”
As tears slipped from her eyes, someone clapped. Soon, everyone was clapping. As the applause died down, someone shouted. “Let’s party!”
The band struck up a lively tune; people laughed, danced and spent time with each other.
Gerard guided her over to where his team had resumed their game of cornhole. While he filled them in on what Swede had discovered, Bernie wandered away, stopping to talk with Remy and Shelby.
Shelby’s sister, Chrissy, approached with her husband Alan and their five children.
When Gerard caught up with her, Chrissy’s children attacked him.
Bernie’s heart swelled at how comfortable he was with them and they were with him.
Gerard dropped to his haunches to give them a great big group hug. As he straightened to his full height, he had the baby on one arm and a toddler on the other. They giggled and hugged his face, pressing wet kisses on his cheek.
Gerard needed to have children of his own. He was patient, playful and gentle with them. The Marine would be a good, protective father despite his fear of turning out like the man who’d raised him.
As sweet as the scene was in front of her, the news that she’d had a brother sat like a heavy weight on her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.
She drifted to the edge of the crowd, standing quietly while thinking about Dean Chauvin. What had he been like? Did he know his father had another child?
“Ms. Bellamy, dis is quite da party,” a deep voice said in her ear.
She spun to face Clayton Fornier, a man who’d been a few grades ahead of her in school. He wore a gray T-shirt that stretched tightly over his barrel chest and thick arms.
Willy Dumas, the man’s sidekick, stood on the other side of Clayton.
They were always together. Some of the other farmers in the area claimed they’d caught these two men stealing cantaloupe and watermelons from their fields.
One farmer said he’d chased them out of his cornfield one night.
If they’d taken any of her produce, Bernie wasn’t aware and gave them the benefit of the doubt.
“Clayton, how’s your sweet mother?” she asked.
“She’s all right, I guess,” he answered.
“Willy, I hear your little sister is getting married soon. Is she here tonight?” Bernie looked around at the crowd.
“No, ma’am. Izzy spends most of her time in Baton Rouge with her fiancé.”
Clayton moved closer and lowered his voice. “We figure you found what was out in your field da other night.”
Bernie tensed. Her first thought was of Dean Chauvin’s foot. She nodded slowly, wondering how much these two men knew about the disappearance of her half-brother. “What do you know about it?” Though her gaze was on the band, she kept watch on the two men in her peripheral vision.
“Just dat we ain’t da only ones lookin’ for it,” Willy said. “Da others are more dangerous.”
Bernie frowned, not sure they were talking about the same thing but afraid she’d spook them if she asked outright what the hell they were talking about. “What do you suggest I do with it?”
“If you give it to us, dey won’t have no reason to come after you,” Clayton said. He nodded to the crowd of people. “You got all you need.”
“Ah, there you are.” Gerard joined her and slipped an arm around her waist. “Friends of yours?” he asked, nodding toward the two men.
“Clayton Fornier and Willy Dumas, this is Gerard Guidry...” she paused and added, “my bodyguard.”
The two men stiffened, their eyes widening.
“Nice to meetcha, Mr. Guidry,” Clayton said. “Willy and I were jest leaving.”
“We are?” Willy looked confused.
“Yes, sir.” Clayton nodded to Bernie. “Let us know what you decide.” He grabbed Willie’s arm and hurried away from Bernie and Gerard.
“Bodyguard, huh?” Gerard cocked an eyebrow.
Bernie’s lips twisted. “That was the strangest conversation.”
“You didn’t look comfortable. Do I need to flex my bodyguard muscles with them?” Gerard puffed out his chest and flexed his arms.
Bernie laughed. “All you had to do was look at them, and they ran off.” She shook her head. “I think they might know something about the foot we found.”
“Oh, now, I definitely need to flex my bodyguard muscles and get them to talk.”
She told him what the two had said. It made no more sense when she repeated it than when she’d heard it the first time.
“We should let the sheriff know to question the pair,” Gerard said.
“I think he left a little while ago,” Bernie said. “We can let him know in the morning. I doubt Clayton and Willy will leave town suddenly.”
The band switched from a lively tune to a slow, sultry one.
Bernie leaned into Gerard. “I don’t suppose you like to dance?”
“If, by dance, you mean standing in one place and swaying, then yes, I like to dance. Would you like to dance with me?” he asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Bernie turned into his arms, pressing her body against his, wishing all the people would go away so that she could be alone with Gerard on what might be their last night together.
The thought depressed her.
When the song ended, Bernie excused herself, claiming she needed a trip to the bathroom.
She entered her house and found her way to the bathroom, the quietest place around. When she shut the door, she could barely hear the music.
For a long moment, she stood absorbing the silence. She’d needed some alone time. As a farmer, she spent most of her days working outdoors, alone. Though she loved her neighbors and friends, being around people all day was exhausting.
She splashed water on her face and dried off, knowing she couldn’t hide there forever.
Taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom and her bedroom. As she passed the guest bedroom, she noticed the wooden box she’d left on the bed. She entered the room, gathered the loose photographs, placed them back in the box and closed the lid.
Her mother had treasured the ornate box and the items she’d saved inside, including the photo of their little family. Though she’d struggled to support Bernie by herself, her mother had never said a bad word about Bernie’s father.
When she turned toward the closet with the box in her hands, she tripped over something on the floor, lost her balance and crashed to the floor.
The box she’d been holding hit the wall, the bottom breaking loose from the sides. A single envelope skittered across the floor and came to rest near Bernie’s hand.
Bernie sat up and pulled the box across her lap. When she reached for the bottom piece, she realized it wasn’t broken but knocked loose. She slid it back into the box, and the panel blended perfectly; it was a secret compartment.
The envelope that had drifted out must have been secreted into the hidden compartment.
Bernie lifted the yellowed paper and read the handwriting on the front.
My Love
Intrigued, she opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper written in bold, masculine strokes.
My dearest Ali,
My past mistakes have caught up with me and threaten you and my sweet Bernie’s very existence. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to my girls. You are my everything.
Alas, a brief affair I had before I met you resulted in a son I knew nothing about until today.
His mother, the daughter of a very dangerous man, is dying of cancer and demands that I raise her son within her family.
When I told her I couldn’t, she threatened to have you and Bernie killed.
Her family does not know about you two and won’t know as long as I stay with our son and raise him in her family.
The only way to keep you and Bernie safe is to do as she asks.
It means leaving the two people I love the most forever.
If I try to contact you, they will know.
I thought of running away with you both, but I’m being watched all the time.
These people are ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill a woman and child.
I can’t let that happen. I love you too much.
So, I’m leaving. You will not hear from me. I will not contact you. Know that you and Bernie will be forever in my heart.
With all my love,
Bernard
Tears streamed down Bernie’s cheeks as she read the last words her father had written to her mother so long ago.
He hadn’t abandoned her because he didn’t love them. He’d left and hadn’t contacted them to keep them safe from the woman’s family.
Part of Bernie wanted to hold onto her anger at having been abandoned. Her father could have tried harder. He should have found a way to spirit them away to a safe location where they would have remained the happy little family they’d been.
But from what she’d learned about her half-brother, he belonged to a mafia family. It could be one of those families that, once you joined it, you couldn’t leave unless they carried you out in a box. Or threw you in a river with cement overshoes.
What had brought Dean to Bayou Mambaloa? Had their father sent him? Was her father still alive?
Bernie gathered the box and the letter and pushed to her feet, eager to find Gerard and show him the letter that proved her father hadn’t left because he didn’t love them, but because he loved them. When she turned toward the bedroom door, she froze.
A man dressed all in black, wearing a ski mask, pointed a gun at her.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
“Where is what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“You damn well know what,” he barked.
A surge of anger pushed through her veins. “No, I damn well don’t. If it’s the foot you want, you’ll have to go to the state crime lab to get it.”
“I’m not after a goddamn foot,” he growled. “I want the bag,” he said.
“What bag?” she shot back.
“The bag he stole. I know you have it.”
“What’s with you men thinking I have something that I don’t?” She set the box on the bed to free her hands in case she had to fight for her life. “Who stole what bag? And what’s so special about a bag?”
“Your half-brother, Dean, stole a bag filled with three-hundred-thousand dollars in cash.” The man in the mask’s eyes narrowed. “The family wants it back.”
“The family or you?” Bernie asked. She was stalling, hoping someone—Gerard—would notice she’d been gone too long and come find her. “If the family was that concerned about the money, wouldn’t they have sent more people to retrieve it?”
“They sent me,” he said.
“Or were you in charge of safeguarding the money, and Dean absconded with it on your watch?” She laughed. “That’s it, isn’t it? You have to get that money back, or they’ll come after you, thinking you stole it.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he said. “Give me the goddamn money.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have it.”
“Then get it,” he commanded.
The man wasn’t going to believe she didn’t have the money. The problem was that he had a gun. There were a lot of people in her yard and going in and out of her house. If this man started shooting, the innocent lives of her friends would be lost.
She had to do something to disarm this man without getting shot or getting other people shot in the process.
“It’s not in this room. I hid it in the barn,” she lied. If she could get him out of the house and into the barn, she’d have more room to work on getting that gun out of his hand. Holy shit. She’d never had to disarm a gunman.
Before she’d married Ray, she’d never driven a tractor, milked a cow or stuck her arm inside a pregnant cow’s hoo-hah to help it birth its calf. She’d done a lot of things she’d never done before. How hard could it be to disarm a gunman?
Gerard, where are you? This damsel is in distress and in need of a knight in shining armor to save her ass.