“If you read it and like it, I’ll add it to the list. We could use it. Who sent it in?” She smiled when Butch glanced up from her book and smiled back. It was strange to find comfort in Butch’s presence after only a few days.

  At times she was a stranger in a world that didn’t have a place for her. She was different, always had been. In school she’d never been gaga over anyone, hadn’t fallen in love every month, had never been devastated when the month-long love affair didn’t work out. She watched her parents and their connection, but that part of her that other people had when it came to making relationships work was missing. The thought of being with one person forever made her skin crawl.

  But then came Butch. No, she wasn’t infatuated—more like she was burning through a lust-fueled crush. Having her close gave her something to look forward to when she got home. She shook her head at that realization. It was new and completely unfamiliar, just like touching herself knowing Butch was watching. That was insane, true, but she also knew it was safe. Butch wasn’t waiting to hurt her—she knew that on a deep level like knowing her parents loved her.

  “It’s most probably one of our authors who isn’t used to writing in this genre and turned it in anonymously, so they’d get a fair shot. The other reason might be that they’ve heard about your biting editorial notes, and that scared them from putting their name on it.” Marlo laughed hard enough to send her into a coughing fit.

  “Yes, I’m sure the second one is it. Everyone knows how scary I am when they refer to a woman’s vagina as her love cavern. I know it would totally turn me on if someone uttered those words during sex right after putting on one of those helmets with a light on it. They’d need it to explore my love cavern in search of the elusive G-spot in that big ole space.” How some people got laid was a mystery not even Sherlock Holmes could solve.

  “Read it, and tell me what you think tomorrow. See you then.”

  She opened her email and clicked on the story. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was a total shock to Wyatt when she mixed all the ingredients Lydia listed and took out cookies from the oven that actually tasted good. She tried a few as she waited for all the batches to bake, so she could put them out for the crew tomorrow. The knock thirty minutes later as she was putting the last batch to cool made her stare at the door. It was only six thirty, but it was already dark outside, and she wasn’t expecting anyone. If it was Blanche, she was killing her and burying her in the yard. It was big enough that no one would find her, much less miss her.

  It was an even bigger shock to see a guy from the cable company smiling on the porch with a clipboard. Those seemed to be popular in these parts. “Hey, sorry I’m running late. My last job was a doozy.” He reminded her of a leprechaun if they really existed, and he seemed happier than anyone she’d ever met. “You want cable and internet, right?”

  “As well as world peace.” She waved him in and turned when he jumped in and immediately went into some kind of combative pose with his hands up as if he was going to chop someone in the throat. “Is everything okay?”

  He straightened up after studying everything in the room. “Ah, yeah. Let’s see where you’d like your modem. The TV boxes are wireless now, so running cable is unnecessary. You just have to decide where the main box is going to go. That’s the only one that has to be wired in.”

  She pointed to the living room off the foyer and watched him go through the same moves. When she’d made the appointment, she didn’t remember mentioning she’d hidden ninjas throughout the house who were trained to kill cable guys, but that’s the message this guy had gotten. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  New Orleans was, as Tennessee Williams said, one of the great cities in the US, but some parts of it felt like a small town named Eccentricityville. Her experience in the Marigny so far had been good, like having workmen show up on the day she called, and entertaining neighbors. The thing was that some of them seemed to be a tad off center when it came to normal behavior. It wasn’t that she minded strange people, but it was hard to imagine there were so many in such a small patch.

  “Yeah, I’m good. So here”—the guy pointed to the spot over the fireplace—“is where you’re putting the TV?”

  “Yes. I thought you could come through the wall before I cover it with siding. For the modem, I thought the office. It’s a good spot with a booster upstairs.”

  “Sure. Is there a way to get under the house?”

  It took less than a couple of hours for him to finish. That would’ve been cut by at least thirty minutes if he’d skipped his commando routine, but having Wi-Fi was worth the extra bit of nuts he needed to go through to get the job done. While he was under the house running cable, she plated a batch of cookies and wrote Hayley a note.

  She left the cable guy, which gave her an excuse to cut the visit short if things got uncomfortable with Hayley. Her knock wasn’t loud, and she waited a couple of minutes before going back to make sure the guy was okay. It was the coward’s way out not to wait for Hayley to come to the door, and she’d try again, just not tonight. Maybe it wasn’t a good time for them to become friends, considering all they knew about each other.

  Once the guy was done, she gave him some cookies and took a shower downstairs after he’d left. DJ had finished the bathroom as far as the pipes. He’d told her the family had added it for Lydia when she couldn’t walk upstairs any longer. When they completed the ones upstairs, she’d have this one with bright yellow and purple tile demolished as well. For now she was grateful to have a working shower that didn’t require her to finish in the yard.

  She made some coffee to go with her cookie dinner and headed up for more of Lydia’s story. The light was on across the way, and she smiled at the way Hayley’s laptop softly lit her face. Hayley seemed to be reading and eating a cookie. That made her feel like she was a part of Hayley’s night, which was strangely intimate. After tonight she’d make it her goal to meet her.

  There was plenty she missed about her parents, but having a simple conversation was at the top of that list. She’d become a writer because she enjoyed solitude, yet human interaction was important even to the biggest introverts. Her parents were her connection to the world, and she needed to find someone who’d be as comfortable in the quiet as in a conversation about anything that came to mind. Across from her she saw so much more than a beautiful woman, but someone who could get lost in the words.

  “Is that what you found with Sam?” she asked Lydia as she opened the journal and picked up a cookie.

  March 1913

  Lydia tried to keep her nervousness down to a minimum, but the moment she opened her eyes that Sunday, she’d had Sam Fuller on her mind. She’d seen him working his fields with Plank and had talked to him more than one time. The reason she never saw him in the afternoons was because of his deliveries to some New Orleans restaurants that bought his produce. He was also busy with the stand he and Lester ran in the French Quarter.

  “Do you think he’ll try to kiss you?” her younger sister Daisy asked.

  “It’s lunch, and Sam wouldn’t try something like that.”

  Their father rounded everyone up for church, and she saw Sam in one of the last pews in the back for the first time since meeting him. When her father shook hands with him, she had some idea of his new devotion to religion. Her father respected people who were honest, hardworking, and devoted. If she was interested in Sam, then her father would make sure he possessed all three traits.

  “Thank you for inviting me, ma’am,” Sam said to Lydia’s mother when she invited him to walk home with them. The man was stiff as a post when Lydia fell into step with him, and he didn’t relax until it was time to go after an afternoon of stilted conversation.

  That same routine went on for three months, and Lydia was beginning to suspect something was really off. Sam was polite and respectful, and he hadn’t tried anything. And nothing meant no holding hands, no kissing, and no sweet-talking. The man sat in church, walked home with them, ate, then left. They’d shared a few conversations when she walked by, and Sam had invited her on some afternoon walks to simply breathe next to her.

  Again, during all that time there’d been nothing. Either there was something wrong with her or with him, and Lydia was leaning on it being him. Even the pharmacist’s son who was a total bore had tried to steal a kiss after a school dance. Didn’t Sam know what he was missing? Heck, she wanted to know what she was missing if Sam would only get off his duff and show her.

  “Afternoon, Mr. Blanchard.” Sam was in for his monthly supplies, and Lydia noticed he’d come after he’d bathed and changed into fresh clothes. That might be a sign of encouragement if only the man would open his mouth.

  “Sam.” Her father waved him to the counter. “I’d like to think we’re friends, and my friends call me Barney.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam held his planter’s hat in front of him like someone was going to throw eggs at him and he had to protect his best shirt, but he did smile at her.

  That smile had started to invade her dreams. “Hello, Sam.”

  “Miss Lydia.” Sam bowed his head slightly. “It’s nice to see you.”

  The same customer who’d tried to help her the first day when she wanted to meet Sam came in and winked at her, then engaged her father in conversation. It was good to have friends. Lydia said, “Sam, could you help me get some feed bags down, please?”

  “Sure.” Sam followed her to the back, and she made a move that would perhaps scare Sam off for good. She had to, though, since patience wasn’t her gift.

  She pushed him against a pallet of flour bags and held his face between her hands. “Do you not like me much?”

  “No, why would you think that?” The expression about being caught in the crosshairs made perfect sense to her as she studied Sam’s face.

  “Because you act like I’m your sister.” Her parents would be so proud when she pressed herself to Sam and kissed him. He froze for a moment, but he proved human when she didn’t let up.

  “You don’t kiss like you’re my sister.” Sam’s hands ended up on Lydia’s hips and didn’t move away when she kissed him again.

  “I’d say I was sorry, but I got tired of waiting for you.”

  Sam touched her cheek with a tenderness that made her think she’d break if he wasn’t careful. “You’re a beautiful girl, Lydia, and you’re going to make a man happy one day, but it can’t be me.”

  “How do you know?” Lydia grabbed the front of his shirt and bunched it in her fists. “And don’t you dare lie.”

  “Lydia,” she heard her father calling for her.

  It killed her, but she stepped away from Sam and put a smile on her face like she was having the best day of her life.

  “Everything okay?” her father asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Sam offered to help me get some heavy bags from the high shelf, but the flour’s already down. I didn’t realize.”

  “We’ve got your order ready, and Lester loaded it up for you, Sam.” Her father glanced between them but didn’t say anything else. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sam smiled as he put his hat back on, but it made him seem sad and miserable. The man didn’t say much, but his face said so much that it was like a book of his emotions. “Good day, Miss Lydia.”

  Sunday was two days away, and Lydia didn’t need anyone to tell her Sam wouldn’t be in church and wouldn’t be at her father’s table for lunch. Whatever had happened in the stockroom had spooked him into saying good-bye without saying the words. The loss would leave a scar she had no way of covering up or forgetting.

  That night she sat on the padded window seat in the room her parents had given her because she was the oldest. Lydia hadn’t been able to stop crying from the moment she’d closed the door. She really didn’t know Sam that well, so she shouldn’t have let her infatuation get to the point it could cause this kind of pain.

  The soft knock made her wipe her face so her mother wouldn’t see her crying. “Come in.” Seeing her father in the doorway shocked her into silence. “Papa?”

  “I know you were expecting your mother, but I thought we should have a talk.”

  Barney Blanchard was a man blessed with three girls. As the oldest, Lydia knew her father felt that way about her and her sisters, where other men in the same situation did not. He’d encouraged her in school, in working with him to learn the business, and to follow her heart because he loved her mother and had married for that reason. When the time came, he wanted the same for all his girls.

  “One of the worst things you’ll experience as a parent is to see your child in pain and not be able to do anything about it unless they tell you what’s on their mind.” He sat next to her and held her hand. “Tell me what happened today.”

  “Nothing, Papa.” She felt the tears fall when she said it, and he sighed.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, my darling girl, then don’t tell me, but please don’t lie.” He put his arms around her, giving her a safe place to cry.

  It took a while for her to tell him the whole story and about the kiss. That part heated her face like nothing ever had, and through it all her father nodded and smiled. Talking about it made her review the words and excuses Sam had given her. None of it made sense. Sam had religiously shown up in church and to lunch, so he had to have had a clue as to why he’d been asked.

  “You sound a lot like your mama.”

  “Mama’s a lot luckier than me. He doesn’t want me, and I made a fool of myself.”

  “I need you to forget about all that and get some sleep.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her. “It’s hard, but I promise it’ll be all right.”

  The next morning Lydia had breakfast with her father alone. Her mother and sisters had left early to open the store, so her father took her for a walk once they were done. She walked next to him and had trouble lifting her feet she was so listless. There was a full day of work ahead, so she tried to shake it off. She stopped when her father walked through the gate that marked Sam’s farm and kept going. Her malaise gave way to mortification.

  “Papa, no.” She tried stopping him before he knocked at the door of a small house that appeared a little ramshackle.

  The door opened and Sam appeared worse off than her. “Mr. Blanchard, sir.” Sam didn’t sound like himself, and his hair was uncombed. Lydia was used to those short, thick, dark locks being neat, as well as Sam being clean-shaven. It didn’t make sense that he’d shaved but forgotten his hair unless they’d interrupted his morning routine. “Miss Lydia,” he said, softer.

  “Explain to me what’s wrong with my daughter, Samuel. What kind of man leaves it to his sweetheart to make an overture? If that’s who you are, I really misjudged you.” It wasn’t often Lydia saw her father truly angry, but he was almost sputtering with rage. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “You can’t believe I don’t care for Lydia—either of you.” Sam glanced at her father before his gaze landed on her. “If you need to hear me say it, I do.”

  “Then why?” she asked, her tears falling again. How was something that was supposed to make you feel good completely destroy you?

  “Please, come in.” Sam moved aside and smoothed his hair down as if embarrassed by his appearance. “Sit.” There was a table with four chairs in the kitchen and one more comfortable-looking one in front of the fireplace. The table next to it had a stack of books about a foot high, making her wonder what Sam liked to read. “Sorry it’s not so nice, but I’ve been busy with the land. I haven’t worried none about this place.”

  “I’m not judging you for that, son,” her father said. “What a man has isn’t as important to me as who a man is. How about you tell us who the hell Sam Fuller is? And this would not be the time to clam up like you usually do. I think both Lydia and I are mighty tired of that.”

  Sam looked from one to the other of them and then took a deep breath. “I’m originally from Illinois where my father farmed a few acres. We didn’t have much, and when he died, the bank took the little that was left. To have some kind of decent future, I enlisted and served for three years before an accident left me with this limp.” Sam tapped his right leg. “After that the Army didn’t have any use for me, and one of the kitchen guys told me about this place. It was Lester’s brother, and Lester and me became friends once I got here, and he was glad to come work with me.” It was the most Lydia ever heard Sam say in one sitting. “I thought I could build a business and stay at it until I died, but love wasn’t in my plans.”

  “Why not?” Lydia and her father spoke together.

  “The accident didn’t just leave me a cripple,” Sam said, blushing. “I’ll never father children, and someone like Miss Lydia deserves a husband who can.” Sam focused all his attention on her. “You deserve a full life, and I can’t give you that. I thought I’d be honest up front, but it’s a tough subject to broach in polite company.”

  “You’re a complete idiot.” Her father saved Lydia from having to point that out. “I haven’t forced you into church on Sundays for you to think about plowing, planting, and profits while that priest is droning on about God knows what. It’s to teach you to have faith in something. Everyone thinks I’m some zealot when it comes to all that, but I go to appease Alice. The woman would be pope if they allowed females behind the pulpit. I don’t particularly like it but eventually it does teach you to take some things on faith.”

  Lydia had to laugh at that. Her mother was a zealot when it came to the church. She felt better when Sam smiled as well, and her world righted itself somewhat. There was a chance she was an immature idiot herself for romanticizing a future with Sam, but the man was as easy on the eyes as he was kind.