Going Home (The Green Bayou Novels Book 1) Page 5

  “Bad experience with a newbie?” I inquire.

  He shakes his head. “You have no idea. Just promise me if you decide you don’t want to work here any longer, you’ll have the courtesy to let me know before disappearing into the wild blue yonder.”

  “Grant mentioned something about retention issues.”

  “Issues? That’s a nice way to put it.”

  We spend the morning getting to know each other better, and within a few hours the initial awkwardness dissipates. I make a mental note to thank Grant for pairing me up with someone so likeable and who has so much in common with me. Jacob is in the middle of telling me a joke when the station’s phone rings alerting us to a call.

  “ESMR Bienville,” Jacob says cheerily into the receiver. “Okay. Yep. Got it.” He places the phone back in its cradle and starts pulling on his boots. “We have a possible cardiac arrest a few miles from here. Welcome to Bienville. You ready?” he asks.

  “Guess so,” I say, heading to the ambulance.

  I’m relieved when he jumps into the driver’s seat. Even though I’m from the area, I haven’t spent much time in Bienville. Essentially, it’s just a small cane-farming town with only one red light, so I never really had the need or desire to visit. He flips on the lights and siren, and we make our way to the main highway that runs through the center of town.

  It only takes five minutes to get to the address, and when we arrive at the residence, there’s already a deputy on scene. I secretly hope it’s Pete, but I’m pretty disappointed when I notice a stick-thin man with dark greasy hair and a broad nose in the middle of his pasty white face. When he sees the ambulance drive up, he begins yelling and waving his arms frantically.

  “In here! He’s in here!” he screeches.

  I’ve never witnessed a deputy act this way, and I look to Jacob for an explanation. He tells the dispatcher that we’ve arrived on scene, cradles the mic, and simply shrugs his shoulders. “Sheriff’s nephew. Don’t ask; just do your best to ignore him,” he advises.

  “Okay.” I step out and hustle to the side door of the ambulance.

  Both of us load up with equipment, and Jacob assumes the lead as we enter the rickety, white shotgun house. Intense wailing echoes from inside the dilapidated shack.

  “They’re here! They’re here!” the lanky deputy yells to the family who is gathered around a fallen male whom I estimate to be in his late eighties. The elderly gentleman sprawled on the living room floor has quite obviously been dead for many hours. When I try to move his hand to check for a pulse, his entire body moves as one solid unit; I look at Jacob.

  “Rigor’s set in,” I say. Jacob nods because there’s nothing left to do but call the coroner.

  “Rigor! I’ve got this!” Out of nowhere, the sheriff’s nephew sweeps past me. My concern should be on what this fool thinks he’s “got,” but instead I’m wondering how he keeps his gun belt around his waist since he’s so scrawny. He sprawls himself next to the dead man, practically kicking me over in the process. He begins rocking his weight on the man’s chest, attempting to perform some kind of messed up CPR. My eyes widen as I look to Jacob who appears to be as confused as me.

  “I won’t let you go to the light!” the deputy yells to the man. “Stay with us, man! Stay with us!”

  “Oh, dear Lord. I think I’m gonna puke,” I whisper. I clamp my hand over my mouth when I notice the deputy bend to give mouth to mouth sans barrier. I swallow hard to push down my stomach contents then pull Jacob’s arm to bring him closer to me. “For the love of god,” I whisper to him. “Please tell me that this is not how you do things here.”

  Jacob looks thoroughly annoyed when a whole new chorus of wails starts with the deputy’s exclamation. I’m so stunned I honestly have no clue what to do.

  “Alphonse!” Jacob yells. “Stop it! Step away from the patient.”

  “Oh, right! You need to shock him, don’t you? Clear everybody! Everybody clear! I’ll get his shirt for you!” he exclaims. Before Jacob can stop him, Alphonse pops every button on the man’s shirt.

  “Alphonse! That’s enough! Take the family outside and let us handle this part, okay. We appreciate your help, but we’ve got this,” Jacob says firmly.

  “Okay,” Alphonse says, sniffing and running his finger under his nose as he stands tall. “There’s probably gonna be crowds of people coming. I should probably get out there to keep ‘em in line.”

  “Absolutely,” Jacob says. “You do that.”

  “You heard the medic. Let’s go people! He needs room to work, and y’all are just gettin’ in his way. Move it out! Stop with the crying and move out.” He pushes the small crowd outside with him, and frankly I’m surprised one of the family members hasn’t knocked the crap out of him yet.

  “What in the hell was that all about?” I question once we we’re alone with the deceased.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” Jacob promises. “Let me get the coroner on his way so we can get out of here.”

  I nod and begin gathering up the equipment. I tell Jacob I’ll be outside putting supplies back into the unit.

  “That’s fine. The coroner should be here in a few minutes, and then we can head back. The funeral home will make the pick up once the coroner pronounces him,” Jacob says.

  Equipment in hand, I keep my head down and barrel forward. I don’t want to run into Alphonse. I hear him rattling away to anyone who will listen, and I’m worried once he notices me, he’ll come over. My stomach flips, and I let out a slight groan when I see a flash of brown uniform coming into my line of sight. My mind races for something to say to get rid of Alphonse, but my dismay vanishes when I see Pete standing before me.

  “Let me take that for you,” he says, reaching for the equipment in my hands. “You look really nice in your uniform.”

  “Thank goodness it’s you! You don’t look so bad yourself,” I reply. Oh, what a gun belt and tight pants do for this man!

  “What do you mean by thank goodness it’s me? Did I miss something?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.” A distraught and wailing family member who was just near Alphonse walks past us, and I swear she stops long enough to wink at me as she goes by. Clever woman, feigning intense grief to escape Alphonse’s idiocy. I glance over and catch him leading a prayer circle, or a rain dance…. I can’t be sure with all the dancing and tossing up of his arms.

  Pete and I make it to the side door of the ambulance, and once everything is in place, we walk around to the back where I prop open the doors. We have total privacy back there, so I hoist myself to stand on the back ledge and turn to face Pete. I steal one quick kiss, and I sit inside the back of the ambulance. I beckon for him to join me on the bench seat, but he shakes his head.

  “What in the hell is wrong with Alphonse?” I demand suddenly.

  “He’s at it again, huh?” He laughs.

  I briefly tell him the story of what happened inside the house, and Pete shakes his head.

  “You know the sheriff is elected, right?” I nod. “Well, Sheriff Rivet has been re-elected so many times that no one even bothers to run against him anymore. The bad thing about not having competition is he can pretty much do whatever he wants, including staffing some of the positions with family members. Alphonse is his nephew, and he’s had, and lost, nearly every job a person can have. The sheriff’s sister is tired of trying to support her grown son, so the sheriff put him on the payroll,” Pete explains.

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not allowed to carry a gun.” Pete points in Alphonse’s general direction.

  I look through the tinted window at the deputy and notice his holster is indeed empty. I smile and try very hard not to laugh. I now know why he’s able to keep that belt up around his waist—it’s empty.

  “At least somebody has the good sense not to allow that dude to carry a weapon,” I comment while shaking my head. “Hey, what are you doing on this end of the parish, a
nyway?” I inquire, suddenly curious. I know that Pete generally patrols the Green Bayou area, and Bert works the Bienville end. Alphonse obviously floats all around. Almost as if on cue, Bert comes around the corner and joins us at the back of the ambulance.

  “What’s going on here?” he asks, nodding his head at me then extending his hand to Pete for a slap.

  “Nothing really, Bert. Alphonse is doing his typical crap, but other than that, not much,” Pete informs. Bert rolls his eyes.

  “Good to see you again, Emily. You guys get a DOA?” he asks.

  “Yep. He was too far gone for us to do anything. How’s Connie?” I ask, finally giving Bert a decent look. He’s a very nice looking man, not gorgeous, but nice. His brown hair is straight and just barely hangs into his beautiful blue eyes. He’s nearly as tall as Pete, and his most notable feature is his deep, booming voice. “She’s great. You should give her a call. She’s serious about you two going shopping.” He shakes his head. “And, I can’t believe I just told you that. I love my wife, but she’s a damned shopaholic if I ever saw one. Promise me that if you do go, you’ll make sure she goes easy.”

  After I finish laughing, I give him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll do that. I have the weekend off, so maybe we can hit a few stores. I promise to encourage window shopping only,” I answer, and he looks relieved. I change the subject. “So, is it typical for three deputies to be on one call?”

  “On occasion,” Bert replies. “Pete here was taking calls on my side of the parish because I was tied up with a domestic disturbance down the road a ways. Plus, if there’s ever anything remotely interesting, we all respond. Chances are you’ll be seeing the whole mess of us from time to time. There’s one more guy who works with us, but he’s at the jail right now dropping off our wife-beater. His name is Kent Sonnier. He’s a huge strawberry-blond dude built like a Mack truck. You can’t miss him. That’s our crew for this shift,” Bert finishes.

  I was going to ask a few more questions when Jacob appears from behind Pete and Bert. “Well, word has obviously spread that my new partner is not only female, but a nice looking female at that,” Jacob announces. I look at Pete who is turning as red as I am, but his color isn’t from embarrassment like mine is; he’s getting angry. Bert shifts his gaze over to Jacob. “I’ve been happily married for five years now. I don’t need you starting any crap, especially when it’s not even true. If word got back to Connie that I was looking around, there would be hell to pay! You don’t have to live with her, man,” Bert says, and I’m unsure if he’s serious or joking.

  “Whoa! I was just kidding around. Pete, you look like you’re about to stroke out. What’s wrong with you guys today? You used to be able to take a joke,” Jacob mentions.

  “Nothing,” Pete answers, still not sure of Jacob’s comment. “Emily was telling us about Alphonse before you walked up.”

  “Well, that explains the bad moods. He went too far this time. I’ll be in the cab letting dispatch know we’re finished here. Good to see you guys. Take your time, Emily. No rush,” Jacob says.

  “Actually, I’m out, too. I need to get back on patrol. Catch you later,” Bert says before leaving.

  I smile at Pete when I see him relax. He puts his hand out to help me down from of the back of the ambulance, and I jump to the ground. He starts to walk me around to the passenger side of the unit, but I jerk on his hand.

  “I wish we could be somewhere else by ourselves,” I tease.

  “Me, too.” He smiles. “Damn twenty-four hour shifts. Why can’t you guys work twelves like us?”

  “This whole thing is going to take some getting used to,” I answer. “How would you like to come to the house tomorrow afternoon? I’ll cook.”

  “I don’t get off until six tomorrow evening. Will that be too late?” he asks while fingering the braid that hangs over my left shoulder.

  “Nope. Perfect, Deputy Bergeron,” I say, smiling.

  He winks. “See you tomorrow,” Pete says as he lightly tugs on my hair before leaving.

  I hop into the cab, and Jacob announces to our dispatcher that we are heading back to our station. She acknowledges the transmission with a “ten-four.”

  “Do you play Rummy?” Jacob asks, putting the unit into gear. I tell him I do, so aside from sleeping, playing cards is how we spend the remainder of our shift.

  I’m expecting Pete any minute for supper, and the kitchen smells great. I decide to prepare one of my favorites for Pete, New Orleans-style crab cakes. After tasting the creamy sauce I plan to drizzle over them, I can’t wait for us to eat. The table is set, the wine is chilled, and the sliced strawberries are ready to top the shortcake I’ve prepared for dessert. I turn off the blaring TV in the kitchen and duck into the den to put on some music. The doorbell rings.

  I steal a quick glance in the entryway mirror and realize I’m still wearing my apron. Rolling my eyes, I yank it off and blindly toss it into one of the empty rooms before smoothing the creases on my pale blue sundress. I eagerly open the front door, and Pete thrusts a bouquet of flowers in my direction.

  “They’re beautiful!” I get on my tiptoes to give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before escorting him to the kitchen.

  “Hungry?” I ask, trying to reach a vase in the cabinet over the refrigerator. He comes up behind me, effortlessly reaching for the frosted glass container, and hands it over to me.

  “Starved,” he replies. “It smells great in here.”

  “Thanks. It’s crab cakes.”

  “Sounds like a winner to me. Need help with anything?”

  “Would you open this bottle of wine? I thought we could eat on the patio,” I suggest, passing the bottle to him.

  While we’re eating, he comments several times about how delicious the food is. I’m happy to have someone to cook for since I don’t cook many meals for myself.

  “Why don’t we have dessert in the den?” I suggest when the annoying mosquitos start swarming.

  Pete, smacking one last blood-sucker for good measure, readily agrees, and carries the bowls of shortcake inside. “You remembered this was my favorite?” he questions.

  “Of course. How could I forget?” I answer, reaching for my own dish. “I only just started eating it again, you know.”

  Pete laughs. “It took nearly ten years for you to get over the shortcake incident?”

  “It was very traumatic,” I tease.

  “It was more traumatic for me than it was for you.”

  “No, it was far worse to witness it than to experience it. Trust me.”

  He laughs even harder. “How was I supposed to know the strawberries were soaked in rum?”

  “Uh, by tasting them? You can’t tell me you didn’t know Rammer the Hammer boozed them up.”

  “Maybe I knew,” he sheepishly replies.

  “I know you knew!” I laugh. “We used to have so much fun in high school. Why did we ever stop talking to each other, Pete?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know, Em. Things were so strange after that night with the accident, and then we both moved away from town… The past is done. We’re here now, so let’s agree that we won’t let it happen again.”

  “I agree.” I take a large bite of my dessert, and Pete laughs. Using the tip of his finger, he wipes a dab of whipped cream from the corner of my mouth. I’m embarrassed, but he has something else on his mind. Inching towards me, he takes my dish and places it beside his on the coffee table. I surprise him by suddenly shifting backwards.

  “Don’t you dare tickle me!” I plead, doing my best to curl up into a fetal position for protection.

  “That’s not what I had in mind.” He presses his body close to mine, and the warmth makes me tingle. His mouth finds mine, and though his kisses start out sweet and slow, they quickly escalate to fiery and passionate. Pete is the first to break the silence.

  “This is a lot like high school, only better.” he breathes, his thumb lightly stroking my kiss-swollen lips.

  “You must
’ve been doing some practicing since I left, Pete,” I tease.

  “If you think my kissing has gotten better, wait until you see what I’ve learned since our time in the boat shed,” he says with a sly smirk.

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “Aw, I missed you so much, Em.” Our lips meet again, and his mouth is warm and inviting. He lowers his body on top of mine, and I moan when I feel his hardness. It’s as if time has stood still between us. There’s no apprehension. No uncertainty. There’s just pure passion between us and a host of feelings that have remained dormant since leaving Pete suddenly flood back into my soul.

  I raise my head to traipse kisses along his neck and feel his breathing quicken. His large hand slowly rubs the soft skin of my inner thigh. I can’t stand much more, and I’m the one who breaks the silence this time.

  “Do you want to go upstairs?” I breathlessly inquire.

  “Oh god, yes!” Pete answers, hoisting me from the sofa to sling me over his shoulder.

  “Hey! I can walk,” I say, while laughing. He gives my rear a playful smack and ascends the stairs.

  “Stop wriggling around. This is much more fun, and you know it.”

  “Maybe if we were gorillas or something. Put me down.”

  He smacks my ass again. “Hold on. Which room?” he asks while looking down the hall.

  “Pete!” I snap, and he’s still laughing when he stands me upright. I lightly shove him in the direction of my bedroom, and my hands are on his firm chest as I walk him backwards towards the bed.

  He falls onto the mattress, and I climb on top of him, kissing him deeply. His hands run up and down my back, pulling me tighter into his body. Still straddling him, I sit upright and work to pull his form fitting t-shirt over his head.

  Working long hours at a slow ambulance station leaves me plenty of time to daydream, and despite my best efforts of picturing Pete shirtless, I discover I have not done him justice. He unbuttons his jeans, and I leave the bed to slide them down his large, muscular thighs. All that’s left to contain his erection is a thin layer of cotton from his boxer briefs.