In the Midnight Hour (24 page)

Him
.

She stood on the river bank and closed her eyes, and then it came. Crystal clear images. Val as a small boy, swinging from the trees, diving into the river, sitting on the bank with a pet frog. The vivid pictures flooded her mind, drifting so clear and easy through her head. A little boy. Then a teenager. Then a grown man stretched out on the bank, staring at a full moon overhead. Worrying and wondering. Sad.

The last image stayed with her all the way back to Lafayette and through her monthly lunch date with Jenny, no matter how she tried to push it aside and pretend that Val had never been anything more than he was right now.

“So tell me all about this man,” Jenny said after they’d ordered lasagna and extra breadsticks at a small Italian restaurant near campus.

“He isn’t exactly a man.”

Jenny stopped in mid chew. “Maybe it’s just my hearing. With two toddlers, I’m not used to all this quiet. Did you say, not exactly a man?”

“He’s a … Well, he’s a …”

“Don’t say it, honey. He’s a she. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been living like a nun.”

“Of course not. He’s definitely all
he
, he’s just … Well.” She drew in a deep breath. “He’s … uh, sort of different.”

“As in, he’s not the same color as you?”

“No.”

“He’s not the same religion?”

“No. He’s … not exactly real. You see, he’s the subject of my project for Guidry’s class.” Veronica knew she’d sunk to an all-time low by lying to Jenny, but how could she tell her friend, even her best friend, that her bed was haunted by the ghost of a legendary lover. Jenny would chalk that up to desperate hormones for sure, and be twice as worried.

“But I thought …”

“I know he sounded real when I told you about him, but I’m really getting into this project and sometimes I get a little carried away.”

“You’re coming to dinner at my house next week.”

“I’m busy.”

“Make time.”

“Jenny, finals are in a few weeks. I’ve got this Guidry project. My diploma’s on the line.”

“Okay, but first thing after graduation, you’re coming to my house for dinner and I plan on having at least three eligible friends of Matt’s there, and you
will
have a lurid one-night stand with one of them if I have to set it up and oversee the damned thing myself.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Speaking of moms, I’ve got a crate of strawberries overflowing in my trunk. Your mom dropped them by yesterday after I happened to mention I’d be seeing you today. Said she bought too many at the produce store and thought I might like them.”

“But she knows you hate strawberries.”

“And she knows you love them.”

For the first time in a long time, Ronnie let herself remember something other than her father’s bitter words. She thought of homemade strawberry pies, her father’s favorite, and how she and her mother had baked several for every conceivable special occasion. The annual church bazaar. The Fourth of July. Her father’s birthday. How watching her father enjoy the first bite, had always filled her with a strange sense of pride.

“Earth to Ronnie,” Jenny said, waving a forkful of lasagna. “I vote you give your mom a break and call her.”

“I always do. Last month when you brought me the canned cucumbers. The month before when you brought the peaches. The month before that when you brought pears. I call and say thanks, she says to make sure I eat right, then my dad asks who she’s talking to. She says, ‘Your daughter, Hank.’ He asks, ‘What daughter?’ And that’s the end of the phone call.” Ronnie sighed and Jenny patted her hand.

“He misses you, Ronnie. I don’t care what he says. He’s hurting.”

“He’s mad, and unless I crawl home ready to be what he wants me to be, he’ll never forgive me.”

“As stubborn as your father is, I’d say you’re right. But forever’s an awful long time and I know he still loves you. They both do.”

“I know that.” Her mom’s produce efforts, her father’s belated pause before he said the dreaded words “What daughter?” They
did
still love her. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, honey. Love makes the world go ’round.”

If only. But love wasn’t enough to make her father eat his words, or her mother openly defy her husband to stay in touch with her only daughter personally, rather than using the vegetable excuse.

Love was … just love. Nice, but not powerful in the least. Not to overcome any and all odds. Not like people romanticized in songs and books and movies. In real life, love complicated rather than changed things, because the more you loved, the more you hurt.

“Speaking of which,” Jenny said, grinning, and Ronnie knew she was about to get the monthly lecture on her nonexistent love life. “When are you going to give up the books for a few hours, find yourself a hunk, and have some wild, hot sex?”

“That’s not love, it’s lust.”

“The next best thing. Hey,” Jenny’s face brightened. “You know what you need?”

“Money?”

“Try again.”

“A great diet?”

“Strike two.”

“Some peace and quiet so I can study?”

“Boring.” Jenny made a face. “What you need is the Smile.”

“I have a smile.”

“Not
a
smile.
The
Smile. A surefire guarantee to a date. The next time you meet a cute guy, make eye contact and open your mouth like this.” Jenny demonstrated. “When I’m in the mood, I give Matt the Smile.”

“And that turns him on?”

“At least three guaranteed times.”

“Three? But you’ve only got two …” She smiled. “You’re pregnant.”

“Four months. Can you believe I thought I was just eating too many cupcakes?” Jenny beamed. “The Smile never fails.”

They hugged and Jenny spent the rest of lunch talking about her plans for the new baby.

“What do you think of Millicent for a girl or James for a boy?”

“They’re both nice.”

“I don’t know. Matt’s great-aunt is named Millicent and if I name the baby that, then my mom is liable to get upset that I didn’t pick a name from my side of the family, but my only aunt’s name is Gertrude and I’m not naming my daughter that.…”

Ronnie had listened to the name hunt for each of Jenny’s first two and she’d always felt relieved not to have to make such a decision. She’d already made her choice. A career rather than baby.

But as she sat there, staring at the smile on Jenny’s face, hearing the wistfulness in her voice, she actually started to wonder what she was missing.

Geez, not only were her hormones kicking up a ruckus, but her motherly instincts were stirring to life. She could practically hear her dad saying, “I told you, Veronica. If you had only listened. Obeyed. I
told
you.…”

Someone Upstairs was definitely out to get her.

“Where are you going, Norman Nathaniel Terribone?”

“To Buddy’s. It’s poker night,” he told the blonde standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him lace up his tennis shoes.

“But you played cards last night and the night before.”

“I’m on a winning streak, babe.” He yanked on a new T-shirt and snatched up his car keys.

“But I miss you.” Her soft voice echoed in his ears and he halted in the doorway. “You’re out every night, damn near all night. I’m getting lonely.”

“I know,” he said, sweeping a fingertip along the curve of her face. She was so soft and sexy and damned irresistible.

But that didn’t seem to matter to Mac.

It would. Soon Mac would be standing up and taking notice of pretty Norma Renee and everything would be all right.

“I was hoping we could spend some time together.” She rubbed up against him.

His breath caught and his attention centered on Mac lying so complacently against his thigh. Nothing. Not even a twinge, and Norma Renee was not only the love of his life, but a grade-A female.

“I was going to take a shower. You could join me. I’ll wash your back,” she gave him a sultry smile, “and your front.”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, babe. I can’t call it quits with the boys now. Stakes are high. I’m this close to winning the pot.” He gave her a lingering kiss and ignored the guilt that niggled his gut.

A guy had to do what a guy had to do even if it did involve lying to his intended. Besides, Norman was doing this for the both of them, to bring them closer, to give Mac some damned incentive and Norma the husband she deserved. A good provider and a good lover. Working for his father at the restaurant, Norman had the first one licked. It was the second one he had to work on.

He headed outside, mentally counting deep breaths, just the way the doc had taught him. It was all about relaxing. Being stress-free.

But how could he be stress-free when the sight of Norma Renee taking her pleasure without him was eating him up inside?

He needed satisfaction, needed to work out his aggression in some physical way. That’s what the doc had told him, and that’s what he intended to do. He was
this
close.

Outside the house he shared with his sweet Norma Renee, he climbed into his T-Bird and started the engine. As usual, she purred like a newly stroked kitten. Norman pulled out his notebook from the glove compartment and his ax from beneath the seat. Tools of the trade.

He flipped on the radio, smiled as the King crooned “Love Me Tender,” and headed for the Dupré Library. It was just about time for Veronica Parrish to get off work.

The minute Ronnie arrived home after her shift at the library, she had barely enough time to store her strawberries in the fridge before Suzanne knocked on her door. Jenny’s wonderful news and all the talk about love and family had chipped away at Ronnie’s defenses and she actually welcomed the twin terrors.

They really were adorable.

And so loving.

A tangle of arms smothered her in a fierce hug before she found herself freed as the kids turned their attention to her computer.

“Now, kids, don’t touch that,” Ronnie called out as they raced across the room, fascinated by the colorful screen and her spreadsheet.… Oh, God, her spreadsheet.

Eager fingers flew across her keyboard, her screen bleeped, then went dead, and Ronnie’s heart stopped beating, which pretty much set the mood for the rest of the evening.

“Now, children. Leave Aunt Ronnie’s stuff alone.” Suzanne turned back to Ronnie. “Don’t worry. They’ll be out like lights in no time.”

Right. Over the course of the next few hours, the twins had enough energy to turn sane, practical Ronnie into a screaming, hair-pulling woman who resorted to bribery to get the little angels to close their eyes.

“Ice cream,” she vowed. “We’ll go out for ice cream next Saturday if you just close your eyes for five minutes.”

“With rainbow sprinkles?” Brandy asked, peeking from one eye.

“Yes.”

“But I want chocolate sprinkles,” Randy chimed in.

“You’ll get chocolate and Brandy will get rainbow.”

“How come she gets rainbow and I have to have chocolate?”

“I thought you wanted chocolate.”

“I want chocolate,” Brandy chimed in. “And rainbow.”

“So do I.”

“Then you’ll both have rainbow and chocolate and Aunt Ronnie will have a lobotomy.”

“What’s a ’bonomy?” Brandy asked.

“Can I have one?” Randy begged.

“Sure you can,” Ronnie muttered under her breath. “And Aunt Ronnie would be more than happy to give it to you.” The bribes turned to threats, the threats to pleading, until Ronnie was simply too exhausted to think, much less form a coherent, convincing argument on why the twins should stop torturing her and please,
please
go to sleep. She closed her own eyes and tried to tune out the twins fighting over which cartoon character was the prettiest—Snow White or Pocahontas.

Ronnie was vaguely aware of the voices fading, the heavy weight of two small bodies as they collapsed onto her lap and vied for a comfortable position. Then quiet settled in. Blessed quiet …

It wasn’t until the clock struck two a.m. that her eyelids fluttered open.

Through a sleepy daze, she saw Val sitting on the edge of the bed, a strange light in his eyes, a half-smile curving his sensuous lips. “
You’ve got the touch
.”

She yawned. “The touch?” Her eyelids drifted partially closed, sleep lulling her back.

“
A way with children. My father always said that you can tell how good a mother a woman will be by how she touches a child, any child. Soft but firm. You’re going to make a good mother someday
.”

“Normally I’d say maybe, someday far, far into the future. But after tonight, I’m seriously considering having everything sewn up.”

“
Don’t you like children
?”

The question pricked at her conscience and she let out a deep sigh. “I like them all right, but later. Much later,” she added as she glanced down and saw the fingerprints smudging her T-shirt.