Louisiana Saves the Library (12 page)

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17

L
ouise didn't know what she expected from Sal's farm, but certainly not a pack of Chihuahuas. The dogs attacked her as soon as she stepped out of the van. She didn't fear for her safety since the assault consisted of licking and attempted leg humping by animals no bigger than her cowboy boots.

Sal appeared from behind the trailer wearing his usual faded flannel jacket, jeans, and John Deere cap. Louise was relieved that he hadn't dressed up. She liked him in his farmer clothes. Besides, she'd considered one of the “date” dresses that she never got to wear anymore but settled on jeans and a T-shirt instead.

“Let's hurry, it's getting dark,” he said.

“Hey, I thought this was dinner and a movie,” Louise said, but Sal was already leading the way around the trailer. The sun had gone down, and the floodlights attached to the side of the mobile home made circles of light that didn't illuminate much except a few feet of grass. In the darkness ahead, she could make out a greenhouse with a single bulb burning above the entrance.

Keeping the dogs back with his muddy work boot, Sal held the door open for her and shut it quickly after they were both inside. He turned on the lights. The greenhouse had seen better days. The greenish glass was covered in a thin layer of dirt, and a few of the panes were cracked. Still, the place was obviously loved and cared for. Plants in pots were lined up in rows, and gardening tools, bottles, and cans neatly filled a metal shelving unit against the wall.

“Look at these.” Sal stopped in front of a row of tiny plants. He squatted down to touch the leaves, caressing the plants gently.

Louise pretended to examine the plants, but she wasn't thinking about agriculture. She was still worried about whether she was doing the right thing. Even if they liked each other, how would they find time to be together? Besides, Sal didn't have any children, so he couldn't possibly understand the constant chaos of her life.

Sal stood up. “These are the ones. The strawberry plants I bought. Seeds, actually. Incredibly expensive seeds. They are finally growing. The first few I planted died almost immediately. I tried a bunch of stuff and figured out I had to elevate them and make sure the soil was dry, but not too dry.”

“Interesting,” Louise said. The tiny green shoots didn't look particularly special. She knew nothing about gardening or plants. Brendan had always mowed and landscaped. Her yard was mostly crabgrass and weeds now that she had to maintain it herself.

“I just hope I can get a few to grow big enough to produce strawberries. I have no idea what they'll taste like, but everyone says they're really good. Have you eaten a Louisiana strawberry?” Sal said.

“I think so.”

“They taste like nothing. Do you know why? Because the farmers breed them for fungus resistance, not flavor. Also size. People like big red strawberries. But they're tasteless. All the ones I grow out there are just garbage.” He gestured toward the fields behind the greenhouse. “I hate to even sell them, but I have to. It's the only way I can pay my bills. Someday, though . . . Let's go inside.”

Louise watched his broad back as he walked along the stone path back to the house. Sal was the polar opposite of Brendan. Her ex was trim and compact, as though he'd been made using exactly the right amount of material. In contrast, Sal's shoulders and chest were wide and muscular, the body of a man built for physical labor.

She caught up to him in front of the mobile home, and he opened the door to let her inside first. The smell of red beans and sausage made her stomach growl.

“Betta didn't trust my cooking skills,” Sal said. “She came over and fixed up beans in the Crock-Pot this morning. I even have rice in the rice cooker.”

“It smells really good,” Louise said.

Both appliances were plugged in on the cream-colored Formica countertop. The kitchen had a two-burner stove, a three-quarter-size refrigerator, and a scaled-down sink in front of a window with yellow flower curtains. Sal looked like a giant as he reached into the refrigerator for beer. He opened two bottles and offered her one.

The living room was small, but at least the furniture was man-size. An overstuffed beige couch faced the TV. A few library books were piled up on the coffee table. All in all, the place was amazingly tidy for a bachelor pad.

Five dogs had come inside, and now they all jumped on the couch and arranged themselves in a pile.

“How can you keep track of all these dogs?” Louise asked, drinking some of the cold beer.

“I only have ten: Saul, Buffy, Jackie, Maestro, Caesar, Joan Jett, Winston Churchill, Cherry, Duke, and Gumbo.” Sal went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator again. “I picked these string beans this morning. Problem is, I can grow stuff, but I can't cook it.”

The green beans he casually dumped on the countertop were beautiful, like paintings of vegetables rather than the real thing.

“These are the most gorgeous beans I have ever seen,” Louise said.

“You're kidding, right?” Sal walked over and looked, his hips nearly touching hers. “You're beautiful. These beans are . . . beans.”

Louise could feel the warmth of his body, close, too close. She had to fight to control her voice. “Nope, you're wrong. This is vegetable perfection. Cooking them is the easy part, though. I'll teach you. Get me a sauté pan and some butter or bacon. Do you have chicken stock?”

“I don't know what a sauté pan is, and I might have some bacon. Stock, no way.”

“How about a knife? Can you handle that? Chop the ends off and halve them while I see what we have to work with here.”

Louise found a pan, bacon, garlic, and a wrinkly lemon and set to work. She chopped the bacon and fried it in the pan.

Sal watched her while he cut the ends from the beans, one at a time.

“Don't look at me. You'll cut your finger off,” Louise said. “Let me show you. You're holding the knife wrong to begin with. Plus, this is dull. Do you have a sharpener?”

“I don't know,” Sal said.

Louise found a sharpener in the drawer, ran the knife through it a few times, and tested the blade with her finger. “Okay, that's better. Now watch how I hold it. You try.”

Sal grasped the knife in his fist. “Like this?”

“No, your index finger should be on top of the knife. Choke up.” She guided his hand to the right place on the knife, trying to ignore the burst of electricity that ran up her arm when she touched him.

Sal grinned. “Maybe I'll get this.”

“Hang on.” Louise scooped the bacon onto a paper-towel-lined plate and turned off the burner. “Now line up three beans and put the tip of the knife on the cutting board. You've got it.”

Concentrating on the task, Sal looked like a kid learning a new skill. Louise felt a rush of guilt. Her children were spending yet another evening without her. The worst part was that she was having far more fun than she'd had in a long time.

“Okay, they're done, chef.” Sal set down the knife.

“Good.” Louise turned on the burner again and put the garlic in the pan. She stirred in the beans, then put in a cup of water and covered the pan. “Ten minutes or so and then we add the lemon juice, salt, and pepper.”

“Guess I should feed the dogs.” Sal opened the door and whistled. Five more Chihuahuas tumbled in and stood at attention on the kitchen floor with the five from the couch. Sal opened a plastic bin of kibble and scooped out ten bowls.

“How'd you end up with so many dogs?” Louise asked.

“When I first moved back to Alligator Bayou, that big one, Saul, showed up at my door. He about licked me to death, and I kind of fell in love with the breed. So anyone around here finds one, I end up with it. Oh, hey, I almost forgot. I got a movie for us to watch.” Sal bounded over to the TV and held up a DVD. “
East of Eden,
in honor of our book club.”

 

Watching the movie with Sal, Louise felt twenty years old again. She wasn't a mom or a librarian, just a girl with a boyfriend and a life of her own. It was nice to pretend. Soon, she'd wake up and be the overworked single mom again. Thinking about it made her tired.

“These are the best beans I've ever had,” Sal said.

“The red beans?”

“No, the string beans. I mean, my sister's a pretty good cook, but you're amazing.”

“I told you they were beautiful beans.”

“No way. Betta cooked these exact same beans before and they didn't taste like this.”

“Thanks.” Louise savored a mouthful of the wine Sal had opened with dinner. It wasn't any better than the cheap stuff she usually bought, but the atmosphere made it seem vastly superior. Two dogs were lying on the couch next to her, their tiny heads nestled against her leg. Winston Churchill was between Louise and Sal, stretched out with his feet against her thigh and his head on Sal's leg. Even though they were in the way, Louise liked the dogs. They added to the homey feeling.

“You know what? It's going to be really late for you to drive all the way back to Saint Jude. Why don't you just stay here? I have an extra bedroom.”

Louise didn't want to go back home. She missed her kids, but at the same time she wanted to keep pretending a little longer. Besides, the wine and food were making her sleepy. It would be nice to fall into bed without wrestling kids into pajamas, brushing their teeth, making them take their vitamins, getting one last snack and drink of water. More than nice—it would be a dream come true. Not forever, but for one night. “Wouldn't people talk? This is a small town.”

“The great thing about small towns is that people might talk about you, but at least you know exactly what they're going to say.” Sal set his empty plate aside and moved Winston Churchill to the end of the couch. He slid closer to Louise until their legs were almost touching. “I wanted to ask you on a date the first time I saw you, but I wimped out. Then, things got crazy around here for a while, but when I heard about your book club . . .”

Louise finished her wine. “Okay, you talked me into it.” She got her phone and called Sylvia.

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18

S
al woke to Joan Jett licking his face. It was almost eight. He hadn't slept so late since first coming back to Alligator Bayou. He and Louise had stayed up past midnight talking. He'd told her about his time in Chicago, his parents, his sister, and how his hometown fulfilled and stifled him at the same time. She'd confessed her worry that he wouldn't be able to deal with her rowdy children and the drama with her ex-husband. He'd responded that he was ready to try. He was more than ready. The need he felt when he was with her consumed him. If he told her how much he wanted to be with her, she'd probably run the other way. It had taken an act of willpower to show her to the guest room when they were both too tired to stay up anymore.

A frenzy of barking erupted from the living room. Joan Jett exploded off the bed along with Gumbo and Winston Churchill, who had been sleeping at the foot. Sal pulled on jeans over his boxers and walked into the kitchen.

His sister set a repurposed Christmas cookie tin on the table and took off her coat. “Sal! I brought muffins. Are you still asleep? How did it go last night?”

“Fine.” Normally, Sal didn't mind Betta dropping by unannounced. Usually, he was lonely anyway and welcomed her company. But he would have liked a few minutes alone with Louise before she had to leave. He scooped some coffee into the machine and got out three mugs.

“You don't sound too . . . Oh! I'm sorry, Louise. I wouldn't have dropped by if I'd known you stayed the night. I just had these muffins and I needed to use them up before they got stale,” Betta said, getting the butter from the refrigerator.

Sal turned. They'd only been apart for a few hours, but he was eager to see Louise again. She was wearing one of his T-shirts. It barely skimmed her knees and the sight of her bare legs made him lose his breath for a second.

She sat down at the table and brushed the hair back from her face. “Good morning, Betta.”

“Muffins, right. Like you didn't come because you wanted the scoop on our date,” Sal said. “Betta's a hairdresser. All she does all day is gossip.”

“That is not true! I take my beauty treatments very seriously.” Betta opened the tin, selected a muffin, and took a dainty bite.

Sal sat next to Louise and stretched his legs out under the table. “What kind of muffins are these?”

“Blueberry, of course. My freezer's still full from summer.”

“Oh, yeah. I grow some blueberries too. They're pretty good,” Sal said to Louise as he chose a muffin, broke it in half, and slathered it in butter. “Do you have any questions, Betta? Since you're here and all.”

Betta toyed with a strand of her roller-curled black hair. “No. Come on, Sal. Be nice.”

Sal got up and poured three cups of coffee.

“We enjoyed your beans and the movie. Thanks,” Louise said.

“You're welcome. Have a muffin.”

Sal brought mugs to the women, got the half-and-half from the refrigerator, and returned to the table with his own coffee. He hoped his sister didn't think he'd slept with Louise. Betta needed to know that this was no one-night stand. He couldn't exactly make the declaration over the breakfast table, though. He finished his muffin and washed it down with black coffee.

Louise poured half-and-half into her cup and took a muffin. “I have to go in a minute. I'm already late for work. My boss might slap my hand with a ruler.”

“I have to leave too. Ms. Trudy's coming in at nine for her weekly appointment. Why don't you drop by sometime, Louise? I'll give you highlights to die for,” Betta said.

Sal saw a look of horror cross Louise's face for a brief second. He stifled a laugh.

“Sure, um, maybe I will,” she said.

“Bring the kids. I'll do them up too. Not highlights, I mean. Just cuts. I have suckers.”

“Okay. The muffin was really good. Thanks, Betta.” Louise stood up and put her mug in the sink. “I hate to go, but Mr. Foley really does get mad if we're late. I'm going to change and then I'd better leave.”

Once she was gone, Betta clapped the top on her tin. “I really messed things up, didn't I?”

“No, you didn't. I'm glad you came by. But I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I really like Louise. A lot,” Sal said.

“Good. Good for you.” Betta grabbed her coat from the chair and put it on. “I have to go.”

His sister banged the door shut behind her. Sal had been worried about the wrong thing. He should have known that Betta would be jealous. If he started seriously dating Louise, she wouldn't be the only woman in his life anymore. Then she'd be lost all over again.