Debra & Regan Webb & Black - To Honour And To Protect

“I’ll put my sleeping bag in here with you. After I take care of the dishes.”

“And your quiet time.”

That habit was one definite success in her parenting career. As soon as Andy had been old enough to understand, she’d taught him to appreciate the quiet time she needed in the evenings. “That’s right. Now quit stalling and go to sleep.”

“Did Mama Leonie ever do voodoo on you?” Andy asked before she could get out the door.

“Maybe I’ll tell you that story tomorrow night.”

“Ah, come on.”

“Stalling. Love you, bear.”

“Love you, too,” he muttered, clearly resigned to losing the battle for more of a story.

She left the door cracked, the same way she did at home. It was a small compromise for him, but an added measure of security for her under these new circumstances.

At home during quiet time she would’ve heated water for tea and pulled out some reading for work or pleasure. Here, hot tea meant lighting the wood-burning stove or the grill outside. On such a sultry evening, it didn’t feel like a good idea to fill the kitchen with more heat. And she hesitated to start a fire in the grill at this hour.

Among the supplies Nico had delivered was a jug of homemade wine. She poured some into one of the mason jars that served as drink ware and carefully sipped. The sweet, light taste was a pleasant surprise and she bravely sipped a second time.

She washed and dried the dishes, stacking them back with the others on the open corner shelves near the small table. As a youngster she’d often been entrusted with this chore and had used a chair instead of a stepstool to get the job done.

The memories flooded through her, warm and comfortable, and for a fleeting moment she could almost hear the lilting voices filling the room with chatter and laughter. There had been good times here, each of them precious to her.

The creative “architecture” in the bayous was the polar opposite of the sleek designer spaces she’d left behind, and Addison found her fondness for this little shack and rugged natural surroundings hadn’t changed. She’d learned early, from her own humble beginnings, that the value wasn’t in the furnishings of a place, but the people who filled it.

Mama Leonie and her family by blood and choice had filled this place with love, encouragement and hope. Still filled it, Addison thought as a breeze ruffled the curtains at the window over the sink. For the first time since leaving the West Coast, she felt a sliver of doubt about running here. She didn’t want to ruin the healthy vibe or cause any trouble for Nico and his family. The locals still revered this place because of all the good Leonie had done for them, but Craig wouldn’t care about any of that. If he found her, he’d have no respect for the history and simply level whatever stood between him and her.

Too bad he’d never understand the biggest gap was full of intangibles, not physical obstacles.

“Mama Leonie, if you can hear me,” Addison whispered, “I don’t want to bring you trouble. There was nowhere else to go.” Truly. Nowhere else Craig didn’t know about. She looked down, twisting the engagement ring on her finger. What a fool she’d been to share so much of her life, of herself, with a man capable of such crimes. Why hadn’t she seen through him? “I’m sorry if trouble follows me,” she murmured into the silence. “Any help you can send would be appreciated.”

She took off the ring and stuffed it in her pocket, scowling at the pale indentation left behind on her finger. The mark would fade and, with the bright days of summer, the pale line would soon fill in with healthy color. She’d taken a stand, done the right thing, and she had to trust the authorities to deal with Craig the right way. Soon.

Though her specialty was corporate law, she understood Craig and his legal defense team would make the most of every loophole available. Knowing the system too well to trust it blindly, she’d taken that final precaution and had mailed extra information on to a neutral party.

Addison paused at the cracked door, hearing Andy’s steady breathing. They were out of harm’s way. Safe. She repeated the word as she carried her glass of wine to the hammock on the back porch, screened in thanks to Nico’s hard work.

Letting the hammock swing her gently, she reviewed every detail of her discovery, her report and her escape, looking for missteps, for anything Craig might twist to his advantage.

He could drag her into it by association, but she’d never had anything to do with his dealings. Although her firm hadn’t balked at her request for six weeks off, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was unemployed. Her firm wouldn’t tolerate the bad publicity of having her name dragged through the mud because she’d been idiot enough to nearly marry a traitor. Smart women weren’t supposed to fall for the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her only saving grace was she’d found out before exchanging vows, but that wouldn’t be enough to save her job.

She tipped back more of the wine, draining the glass, considering another glass. To pour or not to pour? became the most pertinent question. She used a toe to push off and send the hammock rocking again while she made up her mind.

It was so peaceful out here, the darkness so deep and quiet. She’d loved the West Coast city life, loved the challenges and perks of a high-powered, well-paying job. Being a single parent of an active, intelligent son had ups and downs, but at the end of every day, there was unconditional love. Everything about that life, except her son, was over. Where did that leave her? Where did she want to go next?

Money wasn’t a big, immediate problem. Having been raised on next to nothing, she’d invested well and saved more through the years. Only Bernadette, as the executor of Addison’s will and potential guardian for Andy, had access to those accounts.

She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, wishing once more that there had been a way to warn Bernadette of the oncoming storm. But that kind of move would’ve been dangerous. During her relationship with Craig, she’d mentioned a few of their young and stupid antics in New Orleans, and he’d taken care of Andy six months ago when she and Bernadette had spent a girls’ weekend in Tahoe.

Did fools come any bigger than she’d been with Craig?

Rolling to her feet, Addison headed back inside with her mason jar. She’d done all she could, taken every precaution, including running here, the safest place she knew. There was nothing left to do but wait it out. She had nearly six weeks left before school started. Out here, with only Nico as a contact, surely that would be enough time for her to know how much farther she’d have to run to provide Andy with as normal a life as possible.

Walking inside, she closed the door and checked the load on the shotgun. It had felt odd in her hands at first, but after a few hours of practice, shooting at stationary targets and then moving ones, her hands and body remembered the routine.

Carrying the shotgun with her, she unrolled her sleeping bag on the kitchen side of the narrow bedroom doorway. Settling on top of the thick layers of fabric for the remainder of the night, Addison listened to the soft hum of the refrigerator. It seemed to underscore the gentle, content sounds of her son sleeping on the cot in the corner on the other side of the door.

Bugs continued whirring and chirping outside, and she heard the occasional splash from fish, frog or turtle beneath the stilted house. They were safe. Craig couldn’t find them here. If he searched anywhere, he was more likely to start with the small plot of land in Mississippi that still held her name on the title. It was on public record, which she couldn’t change now. Although he knew she’d loved visiting New Orleans, she’d never told him anything about her dirt-stained summers out here in the bayou.