Wendy Rosnau - The Long Hot Summer

He no doubt did. By now the news of Jonathan Bernard’s return and his newly acquired position at Oakhaven had most likely raced through the supermarket, the bakery, the corner drug, and both bars. “Sheriff Tucker told me Mr. Bernard is staying in one of your rooms,” Nicole explained. “Is he registered?”

“Johnny? Yah, he’s here. Fact be, he’s jes’ comin’ through de door now.”

“Could I speak to him, please?”

“Yah—sure t’ing, ma petite.”

While Nicole waited, she turned the fan back on. A native of California, she was used to hot weather, but Louisiana’s sultry heat was a new kind of hot. One that would surely kill her if she didn’t acclimate soon—she had never perspired so much in all her twenty-five years.

She took another quick glance at the paperwork Sheriff Tucker had dropped by an hour ago. She hadn’t read every word, but she really didn’t need to. The gist was that Jonathan Bernard had been granted parole because of job security—thanks to Gran—and good behavior.

Good behavior. Nicole sniffed, taking another quick glance at the list of offenses the man had accumulated in the past thirty years. True, most of Jonathan Bernard’s offenses dated back to when he was a teenager. And there was even a span of time—seven years, to be exact—when it appeared he had reformed. But when she’d mentioned that hopeful tidbit to Sheriff Tucker, he had assured her that Common’s black sheep didn’t know the meaning of the word reform.

That’s why she intended to intervene. True, they did need someone to work a miracle on Oakhaven over the summer—the place was falling apart—but not Jonathan Bernard.

“This here’s me. If it ain’t free, I don’t want it.”

His phone manners spoke mountains for his character. The black-bayou drawl, however, sent an unexpected chill racing the length of Nicole’s spine. She paused a moment, and in the process lost her train of thought. Scrambling to get it back, she settled for “Is ‘me’ Jonathan Bernard?”

“You got who you wanted. Only, folks call me Johnny. What you selling, cherie?”

A one-way bus ticket north, Nicole wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I’m not selling anything, Mr. Bernard. This is Oakhaven calling about your so-called job. The point is, the job is no longer available.”

Silence.

“Mr. Bernard?”

“Let me talk to the old lady.”

Nicole hadn’t been ready for that. “I—ah, she’s taking a nap in the garden.” It was the truth.

“And she asked you to call me and say she’s changed her mind, is that it?”

Nicole had hoped to settle this without involving her seventy-six-year-old grandmother. “I don’t think—”

“The job is a condition of my parole,” he drawled thickly. “The old lady signed papers agreeing to supply me with an eight-to-five job, five days a week for the summer. It’s already been settled.”

He was lying. Gran was too smart to sign anything without legal advice.

“I guess what I’m saying, cherie, is I’m nonrefundable.”

Nonrefundable. Something in his voice suggested he was smiling. Narrowing her blue eyes, Nicole switched off the fan, then quickly flipped through the papers Sheriff Tucker had left. Sure enough, there it was, a copy of a legal agreement with her grandmother’s signature on it. Damn!

“You still there?”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Nicole tried to keep her voice strong and confident.

“Is this where I get one of those sticky apologies over the phone?”

Nicole bristled, but she kept her mouth shut.

“I guess not. Well, I’ll be moving into the boathouse sometime around four.”

That bit of news was too alarming for Nicole to keep quiet a moment longer. “You’re moving into the boathouse?” She nearly choked on the words. “I don’t think so, Mr. Bernard! In fact, I—”

But it was too late for thinking or talking. Jonathan Bernard had already hung up the phone.

Gran’s garden was a blue-ribbon winner. Every kind of flower, in every color imaginable, from azaleas to camellias the size of grapefruits, flourished in the tropical heat. The old plantation-style house looked tired and desperate, the surrounding fields overgrown and empty of sugarcane, but the flower garden was breathtaking, the beauty so grand that Nicole couldn’t help but sigh in wonder as she slipped through the wrought-iron gate.

She found her grandmother asleep beneath a hundred-year-old oak and knelt in the grass beside her wheelchair. Reaching up to brush a stray, snow-white strand of hair from Mae’s wrinkled cheek, she whispered, “Do you plan on sleeping the entire afternoon away?”

The gentle touch and softly spoken words roused Mae, and she blinked open her blue eyes—eyes identical to her granddaughter’s. “It must be getting late if you’ve ventured outside to wake me,” she rasped, her solid voice a contradiction to her petite size. “Since your arrival two weeks ago I haven’t seen you out much in the heat of the day. So what is it that has lured you away from that poor tired fan you’ve attached to your hip?”

Trouble, Nicole wanted to say, but she thought better of simply blurting out what she’d done. She glanced at Mae’s ankle—a week ago the porch rail had given way and her grandmother had tumbled into the flower bed. She’d received a minor cut on her cheek, a few bruises and a sprained left ankle. “How’s the ankle?” she asked. “It doesn’t seem as swollen today.”

“No, it doesn’t. Thank the Lord, I didn’t break it, or I would be in this chair longer than a month.” She looked Nicole up and down. “So, what brings you outside? We blow an electrical fuse?”

“Very funny.” Nicole made a face.

Mae made an effort to simulate Nicole’s cross-eyed contortion.

Nicole laughed. “Okay, I’ve been a might excessive,” she conceded.

“Clair and I have been trying to come up with a way for you to strap the fan on your back.”

“I didn’t know you two were so ingenious.”

“There’s a lot of things we haven’t let you in on,” Mae teased.

“Like hiring an ex-con for the summer?”

“So you’ve heard? Gossip, or from someone credible who hasn’t twisted the entire story?”

“I assume Sheriff Tucker would be considered credible.”

“He certainly would not. He’s always disliked Johnny.”

“If you took the time to read his rap sheet, you’d know why.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Can you blame me? I’m the last to know about this.”

“It wasn’t intentional. But honestly, I just forgot to mention Johnny coming to work for us. I guess in all the excitement of your moving in, it slipped my mind.”

That might have been true of someone else, Nicole thought. But not of her grandmother. In her advancing years Mae Chapman might be losing a little of her agility, but nothing would slip her mind, which was as sharp as a razor blade and twice as quick.

“I would have remembered today, since this is—”

“The day he’s moving in.” Nicole stood and nailed her grandmother with a peeved look. “So the truth is, you’ve hired an ex-con for the summer, and planned to tell me the day he arrived, is that it? Why so soon?”

“Now, Nicki, don’t give yourself another headache. We old people get feebleminded from time to time.”

“You’re about as feebleminded as I am,” Nicole snapped, jamming her hands on her slender hips and narrowing her cool blue eyes. “And don’t you dare give me that sad, one-foot-in-the-grave slump. I’m serious. This man has an arrest record longer than a month-old grocery list. Sheriff Tucker says he’s the dark side of trouble.”

“Bah! That’s ridiculous. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless? Sheriff Tucker says he nearly killed Farrel Craig at Pepper’s Bar six months ago. I’d say he’s about as harmless as a sunburned cottonmouth with a belly rash and a sore tooth.”

Mae chuckled. “That was very good, Nicki. I must remember that one. Tell it to me again so—”

“Gran, I’m not trying to be funny.”

“I agree it was careless of Johnny to get caught fighting, but you see—”

“Caught? You condone his fighting. It’s getting caught that you—”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, dear. Farrel and Johnny were always going at it, but it wasn’t all one-sided. None of us is perfect.”

No, no one was perfect. Nicole had certainly made her share of mistakes. Still, she needed to understand the reason behind what Gran had done. “So convince me we need him. Not just any carpenter, but Johnny Bernard.”

“That’s easy. Johnny’s my friend and he needed out of that wretched place. In the bargain, we get a carpenter to restore Oakhaven.”

“Friend?” Nicole felt her pulse quicken. “How good a friend?”

“Good enough to know it’s time he stopped running and came home. There, I’ve said it. Said exactly what I’ve been feeling for years, and it’s liberating to finally say it.”

“Would he agree?”

“That he’s been running?” Mae shrugged. “Probably not. I’ll be honest with you, Nicki. You’re going to hear a lot of gossip, most of it bad. But don’t settle on an opinion until you’ve met him. I guarantee there is more to Johnny Bernard than what’s in those reports. And far more than people in this town are willing to see, if they would just open their eyes.”

Nicole could tell her grandmother believed wholeheartedly what she was saying. The question was, why would Gran feel so strongly about this man? What wasn’t she saying?

“Actually, you and Johnny have more in common than you think, Nicki. He’s not the only one the townsfolk have been gossiping about lately.”

Her grandmother eyed Nicole’s short cutoffs, then her hair. Self-consciously, Nicki tried to tame her shaggy blond hair into some semblance of order. “I’m from California, Gran. You know I’m—”

“A free spirit. Yes, I know.”

Nicole smiled, not sure that was the word she would use. Or maybe it was, but in the past year she’d been reeducated on how dangerous being your own person could be. In fact, she’d lived through a nightmare and a half, and wasn’t ashamed to admit her spirit had been broken. Snapped in half, actually.

Three months had passed since the miscarriage, but sometimes it felt like only yesterday. She still didn’t sleep through an entire night, and she continued to experience depression—a condition the doctor believed would pass in time. Only, it wouldn’t; Nicole was sure of it. Time could never wash away the guilt a woman felt over losing her child. Especially in this case, when Nicole hadn’t been so sure she’d even wanted Chad’s child. Not until after the baby was gone.

No, time would never erase her guilt, and she had told the doctor as much. She had told him she wasn’t expecting miracles because, frankly, she didn’t deserve any.

“The good news, Nicki, is that Johnny’s an experienced carpenter. He’ll be the perfect solution for our growing list of house repairs. Unless you’ve suddenly decided to buck up under the heat and learn how to pound nails and replace shingles. If not, I’d say we’re in desperate need of a man around here. Someone who can swing a hammer and isn’t afraid to sweat.”

“And you’re sure he’s not afraid of hard work?”

“Johnny grew up hard, Nicki. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll give us our dollars’ worth. For the past two years he’s been working in Lafayette for a construction outfit. The foreman told me he would hire Johnny back in a minute, no questions asked. He’s that good. And he’s a military man, too. An ex-marine. I suspect he’s got hidden talents we don’t even know about.”