Free Whispers of the Bayou by Mindy Starns Clark Page A

to sedate him twice just to get him to calm down. As much as I’ve been pestering you to come, Willy’s nurse has been bugging me even more. One thing is for certain: Willy’s not going to go gently into that good night until he has had a chance to speak with you, face-to-face. I know you didn’t have to come, but it was kind of you, considering the situation.”
    A flash of white caught my eye, and I turned in time to see a broad, beautiful bird lift up from the water and take flight.
    “I would have come sooner if I had known,” I said. “Unfortunately, my aunt chose not to tell me about any of this until yesterday afternoon.” Afraid my voice sounded bitter, I looked at him and added, “I mean, she thought she was doing the right thing. We don’t—we kind of cut ties with Louisiana years ago. If she had her wish, things would have stayed that way.”
    Charles spotted a loose thread on his cuff and gently tugged at it.
    “Oh, I know. Janet and I go way back. She’s a lovely woman who cares for you deeply. I’m sure she thought she was acting in your best interests. If Willy hadn’t been so insistent, I would never have pressed the issue myself.”
    I reached back to check the bobby pins in my hair, wondering if Charles had seen the letter Willy sent directly to AJ. Surely not, for if he had, he would have asked me about the symbol specifically.
    “Let me ask you a question,” I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out the drawing of Jimmy Smith. “Do you know this man?”
    I handed the picture to Charles and he studied it for a moment.
    “No. Should I?”
    “Not necessarily,” I replied, avoiding an explanation with another question. “How about this?” I asked, using a pen to draw the symbol on the top corner of the paper. “Have you ever seen this shape before? By any chance, do you know what it means?”
    Charles took the paper from me and again studied it carefully. He didn’t recognize it, either, but rather than explain why I wanted to know, I simply folded the paper and tucked it back into my bag, saying that I had a lot of weird questions like that for Willy, silly things that had to do with my past and my family.
    To change the subject, I asked about the dying man’s wife.
    “Has she made any plans for what she’ll do after he dies?” I asked. “I hope she knows that’s she’s welcome to stay on at the house for as long as she needs. We’d never sell it out from under her.”
    “That’s right kind of you, but trust me, Deena Pedreaux is counting the days until her husband is gone and she can start packing her bags. All she talks about is moving to the retirement community in Florida whereher sister lives. Frankly, it’s an embarrassment to behold when she does it in front of her husband. It’s downright cruel.”
    “That’s just a coping mechanism,” I objected, thinking how hard it must be for her to watch the man she loves die. I might want to murder my husband sometimes, but I would never, ever wish him dead! “It must be very hard for her to cope.”
    “Cope, schmope. Deena’s a real piece of work. A very bitter woman. She hates Twin Oaks and always has. She calls it the millstone around their necks.”
    “But why?”
    Charles shrugged.
    “That much land, that much house, it’s a lot of work. Being given a life estate in such a massive place like that can be a mixed blessing. The electric bills alone are astronomical. Considering that the house is in the Louisiana Historical Registry, a certain level of care must be maintained. Willy has worked hard at it for many years. As the trustee, I’ve been in a difficult position as well, balancing the need to keep the house in good repair with the fact that it’s currently inhabited by a couple who doesn’t own it or pay rent to live there. I’m afraid since Katrina I’ve only done the minimum, just to keep things from getting worse. But you’ll see, it needs some work. A lot of work, actually, before you would want