Relentless Pursuit: A Novel (Secrets of Roux River Bayou) (18 page)

“Who’s a grown man, Emily. I don’t want or need her help.”

“So you say. But you have to admit, having her coordinating the food and directing family and friends is a huge weight off your shoulders.”

“But she won’t stop there. If I let her help with one thing, she’ll start with another—laundry, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping. The woman pushes and pushes until she gets under my skin, and then she takes over—like a supervirus.”

“Or an efficient organizer.” Emily took his hand. “There’s so much to do, and she’s so willing. Would it be that difficult to let her help? She did what you wanted and isn’t staying here. She understands you need time alone. I honestly think she would try to stay out of your way.”

“But I can’t think straight. I don’t have the focus or the energy to figure out what needs to be done.”

“She does. What if she and I work together to take care of some of the essentials? I’d run it by you first so you’d always know what’s going on but wouldn’t have to get involved unless you just want to. Or you need to sign something.”

Chance let go of her hand and walked over to the bed and flopped onto it. “Do whatever you want. I give up.”

Was she going to let him get away with that response? She decided she wasn’t. “That’s not good enough,” Emily said. “I’m trying to help you. We both are. Either you want our help, or you don’t. But I’m not accepting ‘Do whatever you want.’ That’s a cop-out.”

“I told you what
I
want
, Emily. Apparently, it’s not what you think I need.”

“I don’t believe the two are at odds. You can be by yourself all you want. Aunt Reba and I can accomplish a great deal between now and the time I have to go back to work, and then you’ll have the house to yourself without the laundry list of to-dos hanging over you.”

“Like what? My parents’ attorney’s taking care of the will and estate issues.”

“But you will need to cancel credit cards, policies, car insurance, switch utilities to your name, and things I haven’t begun to consider. The man at the funeral home said he would provide you with ten certificates of death, so he must be anticipating you’re going to need them. I have never done this before, so I’m learning as I go. But between Aunt Reba and me, we can get it figured out so you won’t have to think too hard.”

Chance fell back on the bed, lying flat on his back. “I don’t even know if I’m going to keep the house. I’m hardly ever here. Why do I want this big expense?”

“You probably don’t. But I’ve always heard that it’s good not to make any major decisions for a year after losing someone you love. Selling this house right now would be another loss to deal with.”

“That’s why I just want some time here—to be by myself and work things out in my head.”

“You’ll have it. I promise. But there’re some practical issues that will require timely attention. I think Aunt Reba can be extremely helpful. She lost her husband and had to go through this herself. She can help you figure out what needs to be done.”

Chance clasped his hands behind his head. “You really think she has my best interests at heart?”

Emily nodded. “She wants to do for you what she thinks your mother would want.”

“I miss Mom so much.” Chance closed his eyes. “This is not the way things were supposed to happen. It’s such a nightmare.”

“It really is. No one should have to endure the murder of one parent, let alone two. I hope the sheriff locks up whoever’s responsible and throws away the key.”

“It won’t ever get that far. He doesn’t have a clue who did this.”

“Don’t underestimate law enforcement,” Emily said. “All criminals make mistakes.”

“Not this time.”

“Don’t be so negative. It just happened Saturday. They need time to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. I’ve watched my mother do it time after time.”

Chance shot her a patronizing smile. Did she really need this?

“So,” Emily said, “are you okay with Aunt Reba and me working together to help get some of the practical matters out of the way?”

“Knock yourselves out.”

Emily stiffened at Chance’s lackluster response. Did she expect gratitude from a guy who was grieving and just wanted everyone to disappear?

“I’m going to go see what I can do to help in the kitchen. The food will be arriving soon.” Emily turned to go.

“Wait.” Chance jumped up off the bed, pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly. “Don’t go yet.”

She rested for a few moments in his arms, surprised and relieved when he began to sob quietly, releasing some of the deep sadness he’d been covering up with rudeness and sarcasm. She didn’t move. Or breathe. She held back her own emotion that tightened like a vice around her vocal chords, flattered that Chance trusted her with this moment of frailty.

Lord, help me to be both a light and a comfort to Chance through this terrible season of grief. I can only hope that his sorrow and helplessness will lead him to trust in You. But whatever Your purpose for putting him in my path, help me to do Your will.

Chapter 19

Zoe stood outside Blain Funeral Home, under the brick portico, watching people crossing Ascension Boulevard. They were all walking south on Lafayette,
some carrying lawn chairs. She remembered the Les Barbes Jazz Orchestra was performing this evening in Cypress Park. She could picture the lively gathering of friends, neighbors, and tourists on the green grassy lawn around the bandstand, some seated in lawn or event chairs, others on blankets, enjoying homemade strawberry ice cream being served up by the Junior League.

Her mind flashed back to one such evening when Dominic and Grace, wearing ice cream mustaches and happy smiles, sat together on a blanket, listening to the concert. They got up, holding hands, and danced to the livelier numbers, uninhibited and giggling as was befitting the innocent children they were.

Were.
Zoe felt as if her heart were being ripped from her body. How was it that Margot and Josh managed to greet and talk to all those grieving friends, their son’s open casket just feet away, when Zoe could barely keep it together?

She sensed someone tall walk up beside her.

“Zoe? I thought that was you.”

“Sax.” She quickly dabbed her eyes. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just out taking a walk. I had dinner at your place and heard there was a jazz concert tonight. I thought I’d kill some time and then head toward the park. What about you?”

“I’m here to support my friends who lost their little boy to cyanide poisoning—the one I told you about. And also the friend of one of my employees who lost both parents.”

Sax glanced at the sign out front, his cheeks suddenly hot pink. “I’m so sorry. I was just walking by. I … I didn’t pay attention to the sign. Talk about insensitive.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Zoe said. “I don’t read every sign either.”

“Is Emily Jessup here?” he asked. “It’s her friend who lost his parents, right?”

Zoe nodded. “She’s here with Chance’s family.”

“As long as I’m here, I think I’ll go pay my respects,” Sax said. “Do you think that would be appropriate?”

“I think it’s very sweet. Emily would appreciate it, even if you and Chance haven’t met.”

“All right. I’ll go do that right now. I’m sorry it’s such a tough night for you, Zoe. I remember you said the little boy was Grace’s favorite playmate. Were you also close to his family?”

“Very. We’re all devastated. Domi was the most loving, gentle, adorable child. Too bad he didn’t get the chance to grow up and make the world a better place.” Zoe brushed a tear from her cheek.

“It’s stuff like this that makes me want five minutes with God to tell Him what I think of His will that He keeps imposing on everyone.”

“I don’t blame God for this, Sax. Some nutcase put cyanide in chocolate pudding.”

“Sorry, but I do blame Him. He could’ve stopped it. I’ll never understand why He lets innocent children get hurt, abused, or murdered. I just don’t see Him as this loving, protective, wonderful God we’re supposed to
praise.
All I want to do is give Him a piece of my mind. Sorry if that offends you.”

“I’m not easily offended. But it makes me sad. As long as you have that perception of God, you’ll never have the close, personal relationship He wants with you.”

“Trust me, God doesn’t want me. He turned a deaf ear to my cries decades ago.” Sax looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry. This is neither the time nor the place for me to go off on one of my tangents. I’m going to go inside now and find Emily.”

Zoe nodded.

Sax turned and left and, seconds later, she heard Pierce’s voice.

“Sax, I didn’t expect to run into
you
here.”

“I was just going to go inside and see if I can spot Emily. I’m sorry about Chance’s parents. I’d like to pay my respects.”

“She’ll appreciate that. It’s the last room on the left.” Pierce walked over and stood next to Zoe, taking her hand in his. “You’ve been out here a long time. I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.”

“I couldn’t bear another minute of watching Margot and Josh talk about Domi with each person who came to comfort them,” she said. “How are they doing it? They’re a lot more in control than I am, that’s for sure.”

“His grace is sufficient, babe. It’s pretty obvious they’re relying on God to get them through this.”

“I’m not sure I could handle it as well as they are.”

“His grace would be sufficient for us, too, if we were facing such a tragedy. But we’re not, so don’t even go there.”

Zoe watched a couple cross the street with two little boys, one riding on the man’s shoulders. “I can understand Sax’s anger.”

“So can I, after what you told me of his background. But I know God is good—all the time.”

“Right now that seems like a cliché.”

“I suppose it does. But God doesn’t change just because we’re disappointed or sad or even angry. As long as we’re in this fallen world, bad things are going to happen to good people.”

“And innocent children.”

“Yes. But God doesn’t change. He’s the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

Zoe sighed. “Pierce, stop with the clichés.”

“Since when is Scripture a cliché? I can’t cite chapter and verse, but I know it’s in the Bible that God is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”

“I believe that God’s always the same. But Domi’s dead. And the rest of us will
never
be the same.”

Pierce tightened his grip on her hand. “I know.”

“Sax commented that he couldn’t understand why God lets innocent children get hurt, abused, or murdered.”

“None of us knows the answer to that,” Pierce said. “It’s the oldest question in the book. We’re never going to understand how these awful things fit into a bigger plan.”

“It just brought back a lot of hurtful memories, that’s all.” Zoe sighed. “There’s so much suffering in the world, and little children are the most vulnerable.”

“We need to do everything in our power to make sure ours aren’t.”

“I’m sure Josh and Margot thought the same thing.” Zoe blinked the stinging from her eyes. “All they did was stop for lunch when they were grocery shopping. A few minutes later their son collapsed and died right in front of their eyes.”

“Some things are out of our hands, babe. We have to trust God. And don’t tell me that’s another cliché, because I’m not buying it.”

Zoe bit her lip. Why was she questioning God all of a sudden? In her heart of hearts, didn’t she believe He was sovereign—and that He was good?

“Are you ready to go back inside?” Pierce said.

“I wouldn’t say ready. But I suppose we should see how Adele and Isabel are doing and say good-bye to Josh and Margot.”

“And Domi. I don’t think you should rush off before you’ve let him go.”

“How am I supposed to do that? It’s all I could do not to reach down, pick him up, and carry him out of this place. He looks like a sleeping angel.”

Pierce slipped his arm around her. “And that’s how we should remember him.”

“I just can’t stand that this is happening
, cher
.”

“Who can?” Pierce stroked her hair. “But it’s what we have to deal with. Jude will find whoever’s responsible. This will all be over soon.”

Zoe didn’t say what she was thinking. Pierce didn’t sound any more convinced than she was.

Emily sat in the quiet, all guests having come and gone from the room where Huet and Lydia Durands’ open coffins were laid. The room was swallowed up with flower arrangements. More than once her mind flashed back to that awful night when her parents took her to the funeral home to see her grandparents after the head-on collision that took their lives. The memory still haunted her.

Aunt Reba had herded the family back to Chance’s house, where she had the food ready to go. Chance decided to stay behind and asked Emily to wait with him. He said he wanted a few minutes alone. He had been standing at his mother’s coffin for thirteen minutes. Emily wondered what was going through his mind—no doubt a heartrending good-bye.

Emily had no idea how many people had come to comfort Chance and his family, but the line had gone down the hallway and out the door. It seemed as if it would never stop. Chance eventually seemed to warm up and receive the love and sympathy that was so graciously extended to him. It was obvious that he recognized many of the people and appreciated their coming.

Emily didn’t know anyone and was glad to see Sax Henry’s familiar face when he came by to pay his respects.

Chance kissed his fingers and pressed them to his mother’s lips, then turned and walked over to Emily and sat next to her.

“Thanks for staying with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why do you suppose everyone always says the deceased look good? They look dead.”

“I think it’s subjective,” Emily said. “Reba thought they looked natural.”

“They look dead.” Chance’s chin quivered. “I can’t tell you how desperately I want to take Mom’s hand and pull her up out of that coffin. Bring her back to life.”

“I know what you’re saying. I felt the same way when my grandparents died. I was a little kid, but I loved them dearly. We were close.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Chance whisked a tear off his cheek. “This should never have happened.”

“Of course it shouldn’t.”

“You don’t understand. My mom never drank bottled water. She said she didn’t like the taste. Why did she have to drink it the one time it was poisoned?”

Emily shook her head. “We’ll never know the answer to that.” She put her hand on Chance’s back and rubbed gently, feeling no need to say anything else. How difficult it must be for him, knowing his mother would not be there to celebrate his graduation from medical school. His first surgical procedure. His beginning a private practice. His marriage. The birth of his children. Or any other major event.

“I don’t know how I’m going to go on without her,” Chance said.

“It’ll take time. But from what I observed this evening, you have a very caring family that will be there to support you and celebrate the milestones.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No. But it might be a great comfort down the road. You’re certainly not alone. Your aunts and uncles are only in their fifties and sixties. It’s likely they’ll be alive for a long time. And you have dozens of cousins.”

“Why didn’t one of
them
die? Why did it have to be my mother?”

“I don’t know, Chance. It’s just the way it is.”

He squeezed her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. That was a terrible thing to say. I’m just so angry. I don’t understand why she drank the water.…”

Emily remembered all too well the anger and the questioning stages of grief. Better just to listen to Chance process his pain than to offer empty answers.

She blew the bangs off her forehead. At least this part was over. Now to get through the funeral.

Jude sat at the conference table in his office, the cyanide case files open in front of him. He raked his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. There was nothing here. Not a shred of evidence that pointed him anywhere. They couldn’t even tell if the poisonings had been done by an individual working alone or a terrorist organization. He picked up his pencil and threw it at the window.

Why was he letting Caissy Paquet’s death impact him more than the others? Was her life any more valuable—or was it because she reminded him so much of his daughter Bridgette at that age? How tragic it would have been had his beautiful, twenty-four-year-old daughter been ripped from him at six years old and had never lived to bless him beyond measure—not to mention the third-grade class at Saint Catherine Elementary School.

He felt two hands touch his shoulders and jumped, his heart pounding.

“Sorry, Jude,” Colette Prejean said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I was lost in thought. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Colette massaged his shoulders as only she knew how, and he relished her relaxing touch.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she said.

“No, my watch battery went dead, and I was too lazy to get up and look at the clock on my desk.”

“It’s nine fifteen. You need to get out of here and clear your head.”

Jude winced. “I stood you up, didn’t I?”

“That’s all right. I went to the concert with Bridgette.”

“How was it?”

Colette bent down and kissed his stubbly cheek. “Terrific. It would’ve been even better if you’d been with us.”

He reached up and took her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is it too late to go out for dinner? I’m starved.”

“I’ve already eaten, but why don’t we go to Zoe B’s? You can have dinner, and I’ll have a piece of Pierce’s lemonade bread pudding. I’m still a little gun-shy of eating anywhere else.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Judging by the hordes of people flocking into Zoe B’s, the public takes what we say very seriously.”