Page 116 of What I Should Have Known

“Thanks, I guess I’ll come back later.” I nodded and hoisted my duffel bag up off the ground.

She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” The Cajun accent in her voice lessened with each sentence. Remaining silent, my heart trilled in my chest. Maybe she did recognize me…

Slowly, her shoulders rose, and she exhaled loudly. “Just can’t be too careful these days with the sneaky realtor man sending his cronies around here.”

My stomach dropped to my feet. “How often are they sneaking around?” I asked, once again feeling that dreadful worry creeping up my throat, and accidentally let the vowels on my words shift with an accent.

Her downturned eyes narrowed as she furrowed her brows. “I know all the people in these parts, but not you. Yet, you ask as if you have some connection…”

Glancing over her shoulder, I tipped my head to the sky. Midday sun beat down upon my skin, and the humid air of the bayou coated my tongue. “Shoulda brought a bottle of liquor to share with a neighbor, wouldn’t ya say, Mrs. Dupre,” I replied, loosing the hold on my tongue.

I brought my gaze back to her as she placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened. “It can’t be,” she whispered. “Ford?”

With a brief, curt nod, I dropped my duffel to the ground as she launched herself and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been too long. Too long, ya feel me?” she continued, tucking her face against my chest.

“You sold?”

“Absolutely not. Well, not the house at least,” she muttered, twisting my shirt in her fingers before releasing the hug.

“But the business?” I questioned, and her brows tightened with grief.

“Couldn’t afford not to. They came in with money that priced us out, ya know?” Mrs. Dupre wrapped her arms around her body, her yellow tank top bright against her dark skin. “It’s just your family and the LeBlancs holdin’ out. Stubborn fools.”

“You mean everyone?” I furrowed my brows, and she slowly nodded.

“The money was unlike any of us have ever seen. You’re the only one who’s ever made it out, and you know that. Nobody can leave, even if they wanna. Even Colette, ya feel me?”

The blood in my veins stilled. “She’s still here?”

Mrs. Dupre chuckled and blew out some air. “You think the LeBlancs could manage without her? Son, you and I both know what she means to their family.”

I nodded and ran my fingertips across the palm of my hands. Knowing that didn’t lessen the guilt that swam warm within my stomach. Twisted between excitement that she was here, yet sick knowing she wasstillhere.

“Anyway, ya might as well drop your stuff off and head back into town. How’d ya get here, anyway?” she asked with a smile.

“Uber.” I clicked my tongue as her brows raised. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“That showed up when the realtor did.”

“Figured,” I muttered and lifted the ball cap from my head. Tightening my fingers around the brim, I offered a small smile once more. “More’s changed than I thought, hasn’t it?”

She scoffed and turned around. “Everything except the people.”

“That’ll change too if we don’t stop it,” I replied, placing the hat backwards on my head as her feet clapped down the sidewalk.

“Always the optimist, aren’t ya?”

I didn’t respond as she faded back down to the gravel road and headed off to her house in the thicket.

No, I’d long become something much else.

Something even I failed to recognize. But at least I’d managed to drag my ass back here. Maybe time could heal wounds I’d created. Maybe my desire to run away was coming to an end. But walking down these painful paths of memories wasn’t exactly the challenge I desired to face.

All I could think about was seeing the one place that held nothing but beautiful experiences from a life I’d left behind. The one thing that had fueled my feet this far lay around a bend in the opposite direction Mrs. Dupre had gone. It rested far back in the thick of cypress trees and Spanish moss.

I wondered how much it had changed, or if it remained just the same as every rundown home lining this desolate back road. Gripping the handle of my duffel, I wandered off the porch. There was no need to leave random signs that I’d returned. My family deserved to hear I was back from me, not from a bag with my name on it.

Wandering down the road, I allowed the world around me to saturate my skin. The moisture laden in the air felt dewy upon my body, as hot and thick as the summer heat back in the desert overseas—where I’d left a piece of my soul. Except that was a dry heat, something different than the world around me.

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