Chapter Eleven #2
He roared away from the curb. “Well, excuse me for worrying about somebody I consider my best friend,” she replied.
He cast her a half smile. “Okay, I forgive you. How was work?”
“Good. It was a fairly busy day, and the time flew by.”
“What about your ribs? How do they feel?”
“They’re still sore, but the pain is mostly manageable now. So dare I ask, how did your day go?” she asked.
“I had a pretty good day. I did walk around the swamp a bit. I visited for a little while with George and Louis. I looked around for Bill, but he must work at the café today.”
“Did you get any helpful information or strange feelings from them?” she asked.
“No, not really. As gator-hunters both George and Louis would have guns, but I don’t know if Bill owns a gun or not. As a busboy at the café, he would really have no need to own one.”
“But most people who live in the swamp do have guns.” She released a deep sigh. “Maybe Daniel will come up with something,” she said hopefully.
They fell silent for the rest of the drive home.
Once they reached the shanty, she went into her bedroom to change out of the attractive black-and-white dress she’d worn to work.
Instead, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark green T-shirt.
She then went back into the living room where Jacque was seated in his chair.
“How about I make dinner for you tonight?” she suggested. “You’re always cooking for me, so it’s way past my turn to cook for you.”
“Well, that sounds great to me. Feel free to use whatever is in the cooler and my pantry,” he replied. “And I’ll just sit here and relax.”
“Then I’ll head into the kitchen and get busy.” After she got out the cookstove and he went out to start the generator, she found three chicken legs and three thighs in the cooler that she decided to fry up.
It was about an hour later when she had everything ready to serve. The chicken had fried up nice and crispy, and she’d made a ranch macaroni salad that she’d found in the pantry. There was also corn and bread and butter. They small-talked through the meal.
This is what it would be like to be married to him, she thought.
They would share the events of their days and would make and eat their meals together.
Then they would go to bed together where they would make love and then she would fall asleep in the warmth of his embrace.
She wanted that. Oh, she wished for it so badly.
It was around five thirty when the kitchen was clean and they returned to the living room. Her love for him was so full in her chest, it ached.
He had told her many stories about his previous work as a police officer. He’d also shared with her his childhood antics. There seemed to be only one subject they hadn’t really talked about in depth.
“Jacque, tell me about your wife,” she asked.
He looked up at her. His green eyes were dark, and his features were taut with a sudden tension. “I’ll tell you all you need to know about my wife and my four-year-old daughter. I killed them. I killed them both, and that’s what ended my marriage.”
Jacque saw the horrifying shock on Monique’s features. Hell, he had shocked himself by blurting out the words. He’d never spoken about what had happened to Lauren and Lily. Even now thoughts of them caused an enormous pressure in the center of his chest.
Monique’s eyes were huge. “Wha…what do you mean?” she asked softly.
He squeezed his eyes tightly closed as memories suddenly cascaded through his mind. He had spent the last four years trying to forget. But now, the memories and the trauma rose up to the surface, and he realized he wanted…needed to talk about it.
“Lauren and I were high school sweethearts,” he began. “We got married right after I joined the police force. Almost immediately she got pregnant with our daughter, Lily.”
The utter joy of the moment of birth had been something he had never felt before and would never feel again. He and Lauren had laughed and cried together as baby Lily burst into the world.
He opened his eyes and stared at a point just over Monique’s head as the pain of his past seared through him, quickly erasing that particular memory of joy.
“Lauren was a high school teacher, but when Lily was born, she quit her job to be a stay-at-home mom, which was fine with me. Lily was the cutest, smartest little girl in the entire world. She loved the color pink and giggling and her mommy and me.”
His pain made him half breathless, and tears burned at his eyes as he thought of the woman who had loved him so fiercely and the little girl who had held his heart.
Lily had been a daddy’s girl and had believed he was the very bestest daddy in the whole wide world. “When I’d come home stressed from the job, Lily would always put her hands on either side of my face, and she’d tell me to be happy.”
He swallowed against his impending tears. “We were so very happy together,” he continued. “Lauren was trying to get pregnant again, my job was going well, and Lily was thriving.”
He paused a moment as the anguish inside him threatened to overwhelm him. He drew in several deep breaths and then continued.
“It was my birthday, and more than anything I wanted Lauren to bring Lily to have lunch with me at the station. Lauren was tired and really didn’t want to come, but I talked her into it.”
His heart banged against his ribs as a killing guilt coupled with deep anguish tortured him. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. “It was my fault. It was all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted that they come to the station, they would still be alive today.”
He sensed Monique getting off the couch and coming to kneel beside his recliner. Thank God she didn’t touch him, for if he felt her soft, caring touch, he would have completely crumbled.