Going Home (The Green Bayou Novels Book 1) Read online

  I considered what he was telling me, but Grant interrupted my thoughts. “You know we have a ride-along program, right? If you’re interested, I could get the information for you. You could hang out with us for a few shifts and see if you like it or not.”

  “Thanks. That sounds like something I’d like to do,” I answered as we arrived at the hospital.

  Grant jumped out of the side door of the module first, and then he turned to help me down. The automatic doors of the emergency room opened with a giant swoosh, and the nurse waiting at the door pointed her finger to a room immediately to the left.

  “Trauma One,” she directed. We entered the area to find a doctor and a few nurses waiting near the hospital bed.

  “You can stop compressions now. Just stand in the corner of the room?” Grant suggested.

  I watched as the medical team worked diligently until the man was finally pronounced dead. The room stilled, and most of the staff left the room, yet the victim remained there on the hospital bed, tubes and wires still all over his body. I couldn’t help but stare. Noticing, Grant asked me to take some of the equipment back to the ambulance for him. I blinked my eyes, trying to remove the image that was now seared in my brain.

  “Do they all end like this? If so, what’s the point?” I asked once we were alone on the ER ramp.

  “Honestly, most of them do, but don’t let that keep you from doing this job. The people you do save make it worthwhile. You need to remember that no matter how tragic or traumatic the call, there’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. Your job is to try to make things better for those who can be saved.” He leaned in a little closer to me. “If you dwell on the ones you couldn’t save, you’ll drive yourself crazy. Just remember what I’m telling you, and you’ll be fine.”

  I carefully considered every word that Grant told me that night, and I had taken his advice to heart. The next day, I had scheduled my first ride along.

  Pete and I lost touch after graduation. When I completed training and moved to New Orleans, Pete went to a police academy in a nearby parish. He finished at the top of his class and was recruited by Louisiana State Police. Being assigned to two different areas, along with us working odd hours and being at that age where we’re trying to find ourselves, made it easy for us to drift apart.

  He worked for LSP for five years before deciding to become a deputy in Atchafalaya Parish to be closer his parents. He was their only child and wanted to be around to help them because their health was failing. They passed away not long after he moved back to town.

  As we quiz each other about our current situations, I absentmindedly twirl the straps of my dress with my fingers. We’re at ease, and the conversation is so engaging that I’m sorry to hear the doorbell ring. When I stand to excuse myself to answer it, Pete jumps up to follow me.

  “Are you expecting someone?” he asks.

  As we walk to the door, I quickly explain about Grant coming by to see me about a job.

  “That sounds really good. If you work in the area, I’m sure we’ll run into each other.” He sighs. “Speaking of work, I need to get back on patrol. I’ll be around to visit again if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I want you to stop by. In fact, promise me you will.”

  “Done,” he says when we reach the front door.

  He smiles confidently and cocks his head slightly to the side, looking as though he’s about to say something but has changed his mind. He lightly touches my face and leans forward to press his lips to the middle of my forehead.

  “I really missed you, Em. Maybe we can have dinner one night?”

  “I’d like that.” It’s hard not to giggle like a schoolgirl when I flash Pete my best smile before opening the door for Grant.

  “Hey there G-Man!” Pete says, holding out his hand to Grant for a quick shake.

  “Pete!” Grant acknowledges. “Nice to see you, brother.”

  “You too, man. I’ll see you around,” Pete says before pointing at me, “and you, too.” With a playful wink, he’s down the steps and in his police cruiser. I wave goodbye then lead Grant to the back patio.

  The first thing I notice is that he’s aged fairly well. He still wears his hair gelled back to the point of no movement, and that hair has a lot more gray in it than it did ten years ago, but he looks great.

  “Kiddo! So good to see you.” He pulls me in for a bear-hug.

  “You too, Supervisor Grant Johnson! Your wife must be so proud,” I gush.

  “Yeah, so she says. Let’s talk about what happened to you. Why the heck are you back in Green Bayou?” Grant squints his eyes.

  I’m not sure I should tell him the whole story, so I decide to take a middle-of-the-road approach, and tell him my partner and I had issues and that Randall played favorites, so he kept him over me. Grant listens intently to the entire story, nodding his head every now and then.

  “I’ve heard a lot about that Gautreaux character, and not much of it’s been good. You’re probably better off here and away from him anyway. Supposedly, he has this thing for younger women. What’s he on? Wife number six or something?” he asks. “Regardless, his loss is my gain. So, when do you want to start? The shift in Bienville is twenty-four hours on and forty-eight hours off. The next day for your shift to come around would be…” He mulls it over in his mind. “…Thursday. Is that too soon?”

  “No. Not at all,” I say. “It’s perfect because I’ll have a couple extra days to unpack plus a weekend off after my first shift. Thank you so much, Grant!” I put my hand over his, and he puts his free hand over mine. He pats lightly.

  “Aww, now that’s not a problem. Your partner is Jacob Templet; I don’t think you know him. He’s originally from Shreveport and moved here about three years ago. Nice guy. You two should get along okay.”

  “Sounds good to me, Grant. I trust you,” I answer.

  “Good. Come by headquarters tomorrow, and we’ll get you fitted into one of our uniforms, say around ten?”

  “You got it. I’ll be there.”

  I show Grant to the door, and we exchange a quick hug goodbye. Once he’s gone, I lean against the back of the door and allow the grin I’ve been subduing to break free. I’m absolutely convinced this move is going to be a good one.

  4

  I wake the next morning surprised by how well I’d slept. I figured it would take a while to get used to being back in the old house, but it’s more like home than ever. I really missed the place.

  I pop some bread into the toaster and down half a pot of coffee before jumping into the shower. After playing around with my makeup and hair which I quickly twist and secure with a large clip since it isn’t cooperating, I’m ready to meet Grant at Evangeline South Medical Response’s headquarters in DeSoto.

  It’s nearly an hour’s drive to the main building of ESMR’s campus, and I’m amazed by how much the facility has expanded. A perky brunette sits behind the reception desk, so I inform her of my appointment with Grant. After receiving a super cheery greeting and extra-animated directions, I take off down the long corridor in search of office 121B.

  Taking a deep breath, I raise my hand to knock on the closed door, but before my knuckles can rap the first knock, Grant opens the door and ushers me into the brightly lit room.

  “Come on in, kiddo! Look, your paperwork is all ready to go. Just fill it out on our way to Bienville. I’m gonna drive you over there so you can check out your station. Before we head out, let’s stop by the uniform department and get you some of these fine looking duds,” he says, pointing to his red polo shirt that has Supervisor embroidered across the right breast and the company’s logo on the left.

  “Jeez, Grant. Good morning. Nice to see you, too. Sure, I had a great night’s sleep, thanks for asking,” I say, smiling.

  “I see you still speak the smart ass.” He narrows his gaze.

  “Some things never change.”

  He stares me down for a few more seconds. “Damn, I missed you, kiddo,” h
e says, laughing.

  We pick up my uniforms and head outside to a parking area filled with black SUVs. All are painted with the company’s red and white logo along the sides and fully decked out with light bars and warning equipment.

  “This one’s mine,” Grant says, making his way to one of the Tahoes. We jump in, and I’m glad for the extra time to discuss the job with Grant.

  “Why are you having a hard time keeping employees in Bienville?” I blurt out.

  “I’m not sure,” Grant begins. “First, Janice quit. She left a note behind when her partner left to run an errand at the hospital. She said she was burned out and didn’t want to work anymore. April was hired to replace her, and she finished a call then left me a voicemail saying she didn’t want to be a medic anymore. After that came Sarah and Walt. I figured our luck would change with them. Wrong. They ran off together. God only knows where they are now. Rumor has it she got knocked up by Walt, and they took off to be together.” He takes his eyes off the road long enough to see if I’m still listening. Indeed I am, so he continues. “Well, no one really knows what happened to them. It’s all speculation. Someone reported seeing them together in north Louisiana once, and there were all kinds of controversy around it all. Anyway, I don’t want to scare you off, so I’ll let you know right now that the person you’re replacing doesn’t have a story half as interesting as the past few. This dude simply left because he got a job offer in Florida, and he’s all into the three Bs: boobs, booze, and beaches.” “Good for him,” I tease, throwing in a slight chuckle. “Lucky for you, I’ve already seen, heard, and done it all in while working in the city. I assure you, I’ve never once dated a partner, and I doubt there could be much to make me leave my job mid-shift,” I say with confidence.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” Grant replies. “I’m getting tired of filling slots in Bienville.” He finishes the sentence just as we arrive at the small ranch-style house that is the Bienville division of Evangeline South Medical Response. A sign identifies the house, and all the way around the structure is a horseshoe-shaped driveway. Parked on the right side of the building is an ambulance that shares the same paint scheme as Grant’s Tahoe.

  Behind the house is a tiny hospital that services the area. The only thing that looks remotely modern about the place is a helipad that sits between the two buildings. The rest of the landscape is filled with row after row of sugar cane fields. Only in South Louisiana would a hospital be tucked into a clearing in a cane field. I take a second to soak it all in, and then follow Grant into the station house.

  It takes a little while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. One man, I figure to be in his late-forties, lies in a fully reclined recliner. Despite our arrival, his gaze never leaves the TV; his line of sight stays concentrated on the runway between his extended legs.

  The other man is semi-reclined on a sofa that is pushed flush against the wall. Just past the tiny living area is an open kitchen with a small dinette set and a few appliances. I spot a coffee pot sitting on the counter. Score! Between the living room and the kitchen is a doorway leading to the bedrooms, and after seeing how modest the visible portions of the station are, I assume they are small and sparsely furnished, as well.

  The twenty-something-ish guy sits up some, and then reaches over to click on the lamp that sits on a thin table beside him. Because of the light, I’m able to see he’s maybe twenty-seven and in really good shape. His dark hair is cut close to the scalp, and he has a well-groomed beard. His skin is a gorgeous mocha color, and his straight, white teeth show when he beams me a smile. I smile back.

  “Gentlemen,” Grant starts. “This is Emily. She’ll be starting Thursday on Jacob’s shift. This tour is pretty much just a courtesy not a necessity. She’s been a medic in New Orleans for quite a while, so she’s not a newbie. Do not hassle her, and no initiation bullshit. Do I make myself clear?” he asks firmly.

  “Sure,” the young man says. “But we aren’t the ones you need to be lecturing. Right, Rob?”

  “Yup,” the heavy-set older man mutters, his gaze never leaving the TV.

  “Oh, I’ll have a talk with Carter and Joe. You can count on that,” Grant promises. “Em, this is Terrell.” The young man, still smiling, nods his head. “And this is Robert.” The older gentleman looks over, but only shifts his eyes.

  “Welcome,” he says, completely monotone.

  “Thanks for the warm greeting,” I return. He raises his eyebrows, but drops them quickly. I see a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. Terrell is on his feet near the kitchen and gestures for me to follow him. I look at Grant, and he nods that I should go with him. “I need to talk to Robert for a little while. Terrell can show you around,” Grant says reassuringly.

  There are two bedrooms in the station house, each containing a set of twin beds. It’s clear that Terrell and Robert don’t share a room when they work together. Opposite the two bedrooms is a bathroom with multiple shower stalls, and a supply closet is down the hall. After the brief tour, I thank Terrell and leave to find Grant.

  “Ready to head back, kiddo?” Grant asks.

  I nod, and we’re off. The ride back seems much faster, and I thank Grant for his time. I stop to do a little grocery shopping before heading back to Greenleaf, then after unpacking the groceries, I run upstairs to change into my swimsuit.

  It’s early October, and I want to take full advantage of the warm sun. South Louisiana weather is very fickle; some Halloweens are sweltering, and some require coats. It’s anybody’s guess how long the warm weather will last, so I find my pink and white striped bikini, grab a beach towel and some sunscreen, and head toward the dock. I put my lounger in the area about halfway between the house and the water, slather myself with sunscreen, and lie back to enjoy.

  The woods surrounding the house are heavily draped with Spanish moss, and the trees create a natural boundary between my property and the neighbors’, while the moss acts like a curtain. Together, they afford me total privacy. A boat shed sits near the long wharf. Also on the property is an old stable that my parents converted into a multi-car garage, and above that is a guest suite. I smile when taking in the beauty around me.

  I insert a set of ear buds and breathe in the slightly fishy aroma that wafts off the bayou. Closing my eyes, I sing a verse here and there. While lost in a love song, I’m startled to have the sunlight blocked by something large. I quickly open my eyes while grabbing my chest, and the panic subsides when I realize it’s Pete. He openly admires my swimsuit while towering over me. His broad arms are crossed over his chest, and a smirk adorns his lips. I feel myself blushing as I pop the ear buds from their resting place.

  “Pete! Shame on you! You scared the hell out of me!” I scold, trying to regain my composure.

  “I’m sorry; that wasn’t my intention. I tried ringing the bell, but you didn’t answer. Your car was in the drive, so I figured you might be back here. Are you angry?” he asks, his tone changing to something more cautious.

  “No.” I swallow hard to slow my breathing. “Now that I’m pretty sure you didn’t give me heart attack, it’s safe to say I was just startled.” I blow out a fast, quick breath. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here.” I look up at him. “Wait. Why are you here?”

  “I came to see if you’d like to have supper with me,” he admits. It’s sweet how pretends he’s not eyeing my bikini, even though he fails miserably. I have to admit, the attention is nice.

  I scoot over to make room for him on the lounger and pat the seat. He sits down, and finally, his eyes meet mine. The intensity and color of them, a mix between gunmetal and emerald, hold my attention.

  “Supper sounds great,” I answer. “Do you have some place in mind?”

  “Are you in the mood for some boiled crabs?” he asks. Oh, great. One of the messiest and smelliest meals available. Yummy, but definitely not date night dining. Obviously, this isn’t meant to be a romantic date. I keep my disappointed sigh to myself.

  �
�I haven’t had them in years. Boiled crabs sound really good. When did you want to do this?” I ask with a smile.

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “You mean NOW?”

  He laughs. “Sure, why not?”

  I shrug.

  “I’ll run upstairs and take a quick shower. You can come inside and watch TV or something while I’m upstairs.” I offer politely.

  “Sounds good,” Pete answers. “Promise me one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, unable to figure out what he might possibly request.

  “Promise me you’ll never sing when I’m around. You butchered the shit out of that song.” He’s off like a rocket, mocking me by doing a bad impersonation, and I’m right on his tail. Once I catch up to him, I give him a quick slug to the chest, and he feigns agony.

  “All right! You got me,” he jokes. I leave him in the den with the remote and yell to him from the stairway that he should make himself at home.

  “Got a ball game on. I’m good to go,” he returns. The day has been a really good one, and I’m getting the feeling that my night may be even better!

  After showering, I change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. I slide on a pair of sandals, clip up my hair, and I’m ready to go. Pete stands when I enter the room, and his smile shows he’s appreciative of my selection.

  “Ready?” he asks enthusiastically.

  “Absolutely.”

  Pete’s pickup truck roars to life, and he navigates us towards the old, mostly run down business section of Green Bayou.

  “Where will we be eating tonight?” I ask.

  “A new place that opened up called the Blue Claw. They serve a variety of boiled seafood whenever it comes into season.” My stomach growls when I think of the variety of boiled seafood offered in the area. I can’t wait for crawfish to come into season!

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited some friends to join us tonight.” Pete glances over to gauge my reaction.