Restoring Hope (9 page)

“Oodoggies, dat’ what I like, a man who takes charge.”

Nic shook his head at the old woman and grinned. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was trying to set him up with Hope the way she pushed him. Nic paused on that thought before leaving and turned back to Rose setting her straight.

“I’m only helpin’ her out. Don’t get any ideas,” Nic warned.

“
Mon ami
, only idea I have in my head is dat’ everyone I care ‘bout live life good.” Nic gave her a look that said he doubted that, but gave her a kiss on the cheek before he left.

Rose remained at the bar as Nic walked out, then she looked out over the old restaurant and saw families enjoying themselves, eating Big Daddy’s cookin’ and feeling life was good. She smiled when she thought about how far she’d come in getting’ Nic and Hope one-step closer to what they needed to heal. People pay good money to have doctors tell them what they are feeling, but she figured they could save themselves some money if they’d just remember that the answers to all life’s troubles begins and ends with love. Love of family, love for a good man or woman, that’s all anyone really needs. With love, anything is possible.

“What did I tell you about keeping your mouth shut?”

“I can’t just sit here while—”

“You will do as you’re told,” John bellowed.

“You’re filth and I won’t let either of you get away—”

“You will keep your mouth shut, or you’re dead do you understand?” John yanked Hope’s head back by her hair and then backhanded her across the face. The force of the blow sent her flying to the floor like a ragdoll forgotten by a child. As she lay stunned on the ground a foot connected with her ribs, and she felt the snap echo throughout her body.
Hope gasped, trying to catch a breath through the fire that burned in her chest, as she stared at her husband and his brother. The pain was minor, compared to the pain in her heart, just knowing this was her family. Not done with her, John grabbed her by the back of the head, fisting her hair taut as pain shot through her scalp, then pulling his fist back he mumbled, “You brought this on yourself.”

Gasping for air, Hope sat up and looked around her sorry excuse for an apartment. She tried to clear her head from the reoccurring dream. The view didn’t help much; it was one-room with a small grimy kitchenette. The bed was old, the mattress older. She’d bought a plastic mattress cover to seal in whatever lived on the surface, and a used pair of sheets at the local Goodwill. No TV, one lamp, dirty cream-colored walls and a single dresser for her clothes. The bathroom had disgusted her and she’d scrubbed it for two days to get it clean enough to use but this dump of an apartment was all she had in the world and her new form of hell.

John invaded her dreams each night and he invaded her headspace when she was awake. She couldn’t escape him mentally even if she’d escaped him physically, and it was exhausting her. Something had to give.

Rising from the bed, Hope walked to the bathroom and began her daily routine. In her former life, she’d had to be up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for her husband. Now, out of spite for all the years she’d been a prisoner in her own home, she slept in. It was pushing nine o’clock and she didn’t have to be anywhere for hours, so she decided to get dressed and walk down to the bakery on the corner and enjoy a cup of bold French coffee and a pastry.

She tugged on a pair of her favorite jeans, a low cut V-neck t-shirt in soft lavender that reminded her of an Easter egg and her Nike Free Runs. Then she left her apartment and descended the stairs two-at-a-time thinking about the coffee that awaited her and the powdered sugar goodness of a beignet. When she opened the door to the apartment building and stepped outside, she came face to chest with Nic Beuve. He was leaning on the wall outside, as if he’d been waiting for her to come down. Dressed in dark jeans that hugged his thighs and a black T-shirt that announced he was “Cajun born and bred,” Hope sucked in a breath at the sight of him and tried to control her breathing. Nic Beuve, plain and simple, is the sexiest man she’d ever encountered, and she needed to be in his presence like she needed a hole in her head.

“Get packed, sugar,” Nic said by way of greeting.

“What?”

“Pack your things. You’re movin’ in with me.”

“Sorry?” Nic moved from the wall, grabbed her hand and pulled her back through the door of her apartment building, dragging her up the stairs.

“I got a place a few blocks from here. It’s eighty percent done, so no one is livin’ in it. You need a safer place to live and now you got it, so get packed.”

“I can’t move—”

“You can and you will, no arguments,” Nic ordered and kept dragging her up the steps.

“But—”

Nic stopped on the stairs and leaned down until he caught her eyes and had no chance to look away, asking, “Sugar, you like livin’ with rats?”

“No, of course not,”

“Then pack your bags.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“What’s not a good idea is you livin’ in this piece of shit apartment building, it’s not safe and you know it.”

“Then I’ll look for another place.”

“No need, like I said, you’re movin’ in with me. You’ll have the whole floor to yourself.”

“But, I barely know you.”

“Goes both ways, Hope, I barely know you.” He had her there, and more to the point, she was probably more dangerous to him and his son than he was to her.

“Mr. Beuve—”

“Nic,” he corrected.

“Nic, I appreciate the offer but it’s out of the question.”

“Hope, it’s not. I’ve got security on the building; no one can get in or out without the code, so you’d be safe day and night.”

Hope bit her lips together trying to figure out how to get out of this without telling him Nicky and he weren’t safe with her around. Finding no way around it, she went with the truth.

“Nic,” Hope whispered, afraid to look him in the eyes, “My life is such that it wouldn’t be safe to be around me.”

“I got that yesterday,” Nic replied.

“Then you’ll understand when I say I can’t move in.”

“Hope, the condos are separate from each other, just like apartments. School will be out in less than a month and Nicky’s headed to my parents for the summer to be spoiled rotten. I’ve only got two more weeks with him before that happens.”

“It’s not just your son who shouldn’t be around me.”

“I’m a big boy I can take care of myself.”

“I can’t take that risk,” Hope replied and tried to move away from him.

“You gonna run your whole life?” Nic bit out.

“If I have to.”

“You have friends here who are willing to help.”

“Then I guess it’s time to move on. I can’t have friends; I can’t take the chance anyone gets hurt.”

Nic bit his tongue to keep from shouting at her. She was determined to play the martyr. The thought of her leaving, scared and alone, possibly in danger, pissed him off. She needed help; she needed people around her who cared. Taking in her small frame, the thought of anyone hurting Hope sent his heart racing and he was done playing around. As she turned to walk away from him, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

“I’m not lettin’ you go it alone another day. You’re done running and that’s final, now pack your bags.”

“Nic—” He cut her off, growling, “Pack your fuckin bags.” Hope’s eyes grew wide at his order and then she narrowed her eyes at him.

“NO, I’m not moving,” she shouted back and it felt good to yell. She put years of pent up feelings into it, for all the times she had to hold her tongue or be slapped for opening it. When Nic smiled at her and then threw his head back and laughed she didn’t’ know what to make of it. In fact, he laughed a little longer than she thought was necessary, but she had to admit, it was a tension breaker. When he pulled himself together, he threw his arm around her neck and led her down the hall to her apartment door.

“I like your spunk, sugar, but make no mistake, you’re not runnin’ anymore. So, pack your bags you’re coming with me.”

Chapter Seven

Manhandled her, that’s what he’d done. Told her what was gonna happen, and she’d just let him. Hope was pacing the living room of the condo Nic had taken her to, and she didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or catch the first train out of New Orleans. To say that her new living conditions were for the better was an understatement. She didn’t need this much space, three bedrooms and two baths, it was remodeled for a family. Nic said he was almost done with it but from what she could see there wasn’t much to do. It had brick walls, hand-honed wood floors, and top of the line appliances in stainless steel that went well with the marbled black counter tops. There was a couch in the living room, a TV, a coffee table and an end table, and a single bed in one of the bedrooms. He didn’t say much about where he’d gotten the furnishings, just that he’d had the extra furniture in storage and moved it in for her.

What she was trying to wrap her head around was the why of it. Why would Nic go to this much trouble for a stranger? Rose, Abby, Nic, even Big Daddy, all seemed to be concerned about her. Her first reaction was to be suspicious of them. She’d grown up in foster care and then married a man who thought communication began and ended with a fist. She’d never really had anyone care what happened to her, and she didn’t know how to feel about it. She knew there were good people in the world, the kind that would help a friend or neighbor. She supposed she’d just been lucky and stumbled upon a group of people who looked out for someone in need and she felt guilty. The problem was, she felt like she was using them. What little she knew of Nic and Rose, even Abby and Big Daddy, they were good people, all of them, and the crux of the matter was, she didn’t deserve their loyalty.

Panic welled up in her, and she started pacing again. If she were any kind of friend, any kind of decent person, she’d leave right now, but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to do it.
You’re tired of running Hope, and you know it. Just a few more weeks, enough to save up some money
, she thought. Maybe God would let her stay a few more weeks.

With nothing else to do, and no energy to do it, she decided to take a bath in one of the exceptionally clean,
thank you, God,
bathrooms. The master bedroom had a walk-in shower and a big antique tub and the thought of sinking deep into warm water and falling asleep sounded like heaven. Entering the bathroom, she found shampoo, conditioner and bubble bath on the shelf of the stonewalled bathtub. Nic had done the tub surround in slate with small river rocks running through a third of the way down around the three walls as a border. The darkness of the rock set off the bright white tub as the focal point, and the antique faucets and claw feet on the tub mixed the old and the new seamlessly together.

There were towels on a warming rack just to the side of the bathtub and Hope let out a breath. She’d forgotten to pack her towels when Nic had rushed her to get her stuff. Leaning in and lowering the tub stopper to fill it with water, she then turned on the faucet, poured bubble bath into the streaming water, and the smell of jasmine filled the air as she stripped out of her clothes. Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, she remembered her brush was in her purse and her purse was on the counter in the kitchen. Grabbing one of the warm towels, she wrapped it around her body and headed down the hall. As she reached her purse, she heard a key in the front door and whipped around just as Nic entered the condo, bags in hand.