Page 12 of Cursed
‘Why now?”
“Snakes could have washed up on the road.”
Starting the engine, he backed up, then turned the wheel. On the narrow pavement, it took several maneuvers to reverse his direction. But finally, he was able to make a U-turn and head toward Belle Vista.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon when they turned in at a small sign that announced the plantation. The one-lane drive wound through the bayou, the gloom closing in on them as they made their way farther into the natural area.
He was driving fast now, turning the scenery to a dark blur.
“Slow down,” she said, hearing the thin quality of her own voice.
“I know this road,” he answered. “I’ve lived here all my life.”
Since he was obviously anxious to get home, she switched tactics. “How much land do you have?” she asked.
He sighed, making her think he would have preferred silence. But he answered the question. “Around two hundred acres.”
She made a whistling noise. “That’s amazing.”
“Instead of selling it off, we kept it in the family.” He laughed, “Of course a lot of it is an underwater paradise half the year.”
She sat tensely in her seat as they roared around another curve and emerged from the wilderness onto a double-wide drive. Willow trees on either side led to a large house. As they drew closer, her breath caught.
He’d told her about his estate and sent her pictures. But nothing had adequately prepared her for the reality of Belle Vista. She stared at the graceful stucco building with its twin curved staircases and two-story porticos surrounded by manicured gardens. In the glow from the setting sun, it looked like a jewel that had been lovingly polished.
“Your home is stunning,” she breathed.
“Thank you,” he answered, sounding genuinely pleased. “It was getting a little run-down. I wanted to restore it to its former glory.”
As they pulled to a stop in the circular drive, she glanced around at what looked like an oasis in the middle of the bayou.
“Your gardener must spend full time keeping all this up,” she said.
“I do it myself,” he answered.
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that a lot of work?”
“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” he answered, back in tense mode.
“Okay,” she said carefully, wondering what was bothering him now. Maybe the same thing that was bothering her. She’d gotten physically close to him a while ago. Maybe he was having a similar reaction.
She gave him a sidewise glance as he stepped out of the car and turned toward the sunset. “We made it. But you need to get into the house.”
Quickly he exited the SUV, then came around to yank open her door. “Come inside.”
After her narrow escape from death, she wanted to linger in the driveway, watching the sun set over the trees and simply enjoy the wonder of being alive. But the tension radiating from the man standing next to her seeped into the bucolic picture.
Aware once again that she was barefoot and wearing a borrowed robe, she followed him up one of the curving staircases, to a wide porch—where he ushered her through double front doors.
They stopped in a large center hall, lit by a lamp on a marble- topped chest. She was craning her neck, looking up at the floating staircase when the sound of footsteps made her jerk around. She saw Andre striding rapidly toward the back of the house, disappearing into the darkness at the rear of the hall.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
He left her standing where she was. Alone and a bit confused.
