Chapter Twelve
Monique remained on the sofa for several long moments, her heart aching so much she could scarcely move. Tears raced down her cheeks unchecked. Her pain for him and his tragic past mingled with the anguish of now knowing he wasn’t in love with her.
She should have never told him how she felt about him. She especially shouldn’t have confessed to him her love while he’d been reliving his painful past. Her timing had sucked.
She’d been so sure that he’d been in love with her. He’d shown her his love in a million ways. But apparently, she’d mistaken his emotions.
Now things would definitely be awkward between them. She had burdened him with so much already, and now she had burdened him with her unrequited love.
She needed to talk to somebody. Her emotions were so great inside her that she needed to share them with somebody who could help her make sense of it all.
She didn’t want to call her sisters. They were happy in love, and the last thing she wanted to do was encumber them with her problems and love issues. She wished she had a best friend to call, but she didn’t. She had considered Jacque to be her best friend.
Now all she wanted was some distance, some time away from him so she could get her thoughts and feelings back under control. She swiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks and then stood.
There was one place she could go where she’d always felt safe, a person she knew she could tell all her troubles to. Surely, she could get there safely as it wasn’t that far away.
Jacque would probably be angry that she’d left his shanty alone, but she’d write him a note and let him know where she was. With this thought in mind, she looked in his bookcase until she found a blank notebook. She tore out a page, wrote the note and then left it on the kitchen table.
There was no sound from Jacque’s bedroom. Maybe after the explosion of emotions, he’d fallen asleep. There was certainly no reason to awaken him if that was the case.
From her purse on the sofa, she grabbed the knife she carried for self-defense. Of course, it would do no good against a bullet, but hopefully she could sneak through the swamp and get where she was going safely without anyone seeing her.
Tears once again burned at her eyes as she slipped out of the shanty’s front door. It was still relatively early so the sun was still up in the sky, although it wouldn’t be long before twilight fell.
She immediately stepped into the brush just off the beaten path. She was grateful for the green T-shirt she wore that would help her blend into the landscape.
It was too early for the gator-hunters and fishermen to be out and about, so hopefully she wouldn’t encounter anyone. She moved quickly and as silently as possible, staying off the beaten paths as she headed to her destination. Her heart was breaking with each step she took.
She’d had so much hope that she and Jacque could find true happiness together, so much hope that he would realize he loved her as much as she loved him. She’d been so mistaken about him…about his love. How was she going to stop her heart from hurting so badly?
How she wished her mother was here. Her mother would have drawn her into her arms and allowed Monique to cry her eyes out. Then she would have some words of wisdom for her heartbroken daughter. But her mother wasn’t here anymore, and this thought made her cry even more.
Aware of the danger that could come at her from any direction, she kept her eyes and ears open as she stifled her sobs. She clutched the knife tightly in her hand, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it. But she would if it came to her own survival.
It wasn’t long before the little shanty she sought came into view. She ran to the front door and knocked. When the door opened, she burst into tears and collapsed into Nola’s familiar arms. Nola was dressed in a blue-flowered housedress, and she smelled of vanilla and childhood love.
“Monique, honey.” Nola pulled her into the shanty and then looked beyond Monique’s shoulders. “Where’s Jacque?” she asked.
“H-he’s back at his p-place,” Monique replied, tears still falling. “He was in his bedroom when I left. I think he was asleep.”
Nola closed the door and then led Monique to her sofa where she pulled Monique down next to her. “Honey, tell me what’s happening. Why are you crying?” She placed an arm around Monique and patted her shoulder. “Did you and Jacque have a fight?”
“No…no fight.” Monique replied. She set the knife she’d been carrying down on the coffee table and drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to get her tears under control. “Oh, Nola, I’m so in love with him and he…he doesn’t love me back.” These words caused a new torrent of tears to fall.
“Oh, honey…are you sure he isn’t in love with you?” Nola asked as she continued to hold Monique in her arms.
“P-positive. He told me.” Once again Monique attempted to gain control of herself.
“Well, the sad thing is these things happen,” Nola replied.
Monique sat up straighter and swiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry… I just… I needed to talk to someone,” she said.
“I’m glad you came here. You know you can always talk to me,” Nola replied sympathetically.
Monique wound up telling Nola most of her conversation with Jacque, although she didn’t tell Nola about the loss of Jacque’s wife and child. She knew Nola could be a bit of a gossip, and telling her about that would be a complete betrayal of Jacque’s privacy and trust.
Instead, what she spoke about was all the things that had made her fall in love with the handsome loner.
She talked about carnival rides and dancing, about long talks and shared laughter.
She told Nola about silly jokes and how safe he made her feel, not just physically but emotionally as well.
When she finished, she was utterly depleted.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Nola said. “It would be nice if every woman who fell in love with a man would have that love returned tenfold. But sometimes it just doesn’t happen that way.”
Monique gazed at the woman who had been like a mother to her. “Why have you never married, Nola?”
“Sometimes a broken heart lasts a lifetime,” Nola said softly.
Her eyes grew distant and hazy as she looked toward the front window.
“I was thirty-three when I met the man of my dreams. His name was David, and he was from town and owned a construction company. I was positively crazy about him. He came here two or three nights a week, and we dated for about eight months. I thought for sure we’d eventually get married, and I’d move into town with him and live happily ever after. ”
She released a deep sigh and looked back at Monique.
“But he had bigger plans for himself. When he broke it off with me, he told me his future wasn’t in a small swampy town with a swamp woman.
Two days after he broke up with me, he picked up and left Dark Waters, and I never heard from him again.
I spent months hoping he’d come back for me, praying that he would realize he loved me and couldn’t live without me. But of course, that didn’t happen.”
She grabbed hold of one of Monique’s hands.
“The whole experience soured me on love. I became a bitter woman and decided I would live the rest of my life alone. Don’t be like me, Monique.
Don’t let this heartache close you off from finding another.
You’re young and beautiful. There will be another man for you, one you’ll love and he’ll love you to distraction.
You can still have a happily-ever-after ending with another man. ”
“It’s hard to even think about another man right now,” Monique replied mournfully.
“Give it time, honey. Like I said, you’re young and have your whole life in front of you,” Nola said. “Are you going to still remain at Jacque’s shanty?”
“Right now, I need to be there,” Monique said and then told Nola about being shot at. “I have to stay there for my own safety.”
“Good luck navigating that with the way you feel about him,” Nola said sympathetically. She released Monique’s hand and stood. “Sorry, but right now I need to use the restroom. You just sit tight, and I’ll be right back.”
As Nola disappeared into the bathroom, Monique got up from the sofa. Her mouth was dry, and she needed something to drink. She knew that Nola often kept a pitcher of iced tea in her cooler.
Nola’s shanty had an actual room that served as the kitchen area. It contained a small table and four chairs, a bookcase filled with recipe books and a counter where the cooler sat next to a deep bin that was her sink.
Monique went into the room and walked directly over to the cooler. Sure enough, there was a pitcher of chilled tea inside. She pulled it out and set it on the counter and then opened one of the cabinets to grab a glass. Finally, she settled in one of the chairs at the table with some tea.
Talking to Nola had certainly been cathartic, but it had hardly solved anything.
She was still in love with Jacque, and he still wasn’t in love with her.
She would remain under his protective care, but there was no question that things were going to be awkward and different between them from now on.
In fact, it was probably time for her to head back there now. The only thing she could hope for was that Daniel would solve the crimes sooner rather than later, and she would be able to move back to her own shanty and somehow get over loving Jacque.
For a moment her gaze drifted over the many cookbooks Nola had lined up on the bookshelf next to the table. Nola was a great cook and had often made dinner for Mystique and her three daughters when the girls had been small.
Monique suddenly froze as her heartbeat accelerated with shock. There, tucked between two of the cookbooks, was a very familiar dark blue book.
Her mother’s client book.