Wordlessly she bites her lip and looks over at Jameson, who gives him a ghostly grin. If I'm reading his expression correctly, that's a bit of pride I see in his eyes. Lazare holds up his hand.
“Never mind.Let's never speak of this again.”
The way Lillian and Jameson are holding each other now makes me think that they have perhaps already begun to make up for some lost time.
Yep, not going there.
After we finish eating, we all get up and begin to go off into our own rooms. Lazare, no doubt trying to embarrass me, raises his voice. “For what you are about to hear and experience in this house, I can only apologize.”
I drop my head into my hands. If I were still human, I'd be beet red. The only thing I can do right now, aside from rip off my clothes and jump on my man, is glare at him menacingly. He remains unimpressed, though the gleam in his eye suggests he intends to make it up to me. This day has put me through the ringer, but I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
Bobbie walks up to us, shaking her head. “We were going to do this with a bit more ceremony, but I don’t wish to hear any of that, and I'm calling dibs on your room,” she says, smiling at Lazare. “So, I'd like for y'all to leave now.”
I look at Lazare. “She’s kicking us out?”
Becky ignores the question. “Bobbie, I already called that room.”
“No, you did not. If you call it and it's not in my presence, it doesn't count.”
“Rock Paper Scissors.”
“Nope. I follow the rules of calling it, and now it's my room.”
Lazare looks at Lillian. “How old are they?”
She holds up the requisite fingers, and the twins stop to glare at their ghostly sister.
“You said you would take that number to your grave!” Bobbie says, her big blue eyes flashing.
Lillian smiles and gestures at her ghostly form, setting off another round of laughter.
Becky rolls her eyes but can't help but give me one of her cheerful grins. “Anyway. Follow me.”
She walks out to the front porch, and everyone in the house spills out behind us, nosy fuckers. She looks down at the abandoned bit of roadway and swirls her hand. A small white cabin appears on pylons, done in the same architectural style as the big white house, perfect for two.
“You built us a house?”
Bobbie shrugs. “It's always been there. We've been shielding it for a very long time.” Stretching her hand out farther, she reveals a glimpse of the old neighborhood, a series of small cabins and houses on pylons, barely clinging to the little finger of land tucked in between the canal and the harbor marina, thought to be destroyed by Katrina with everything else. As the buildings disappear once more behind the powerful shield, a sense of silent wonder spreads out among all those present. “Lillian, Becky, and I decided that, as each of you begins to start your families if you wanted to stay here, you could.”
We gather around the twins, and it turns into an embarrassing display of love and family and some honest-to-goodness fairy lights from our resident grump. Happy tears are shed freely.
Lazare looks down on me, questions in his eyes. “I know it's not what you're used to. It's not very fancy—”
I hug him hard. “I don't care about fancy. I care about you. I care about this family. And it's lovely.”
The cabin is adorably gabled, with the cutest little front porch, along with a back porch perfect for fishing.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“For us, it's perfect.”
We are interrupted as Galyna, carrying both the mattress and box spring on her back, pushes past us down the steps. Eloy follows her with the bed frame, and Doc has a few baskets of clothes in his hand.
“Tell us how you really feel,” Lazare grumbles, going back into the house to retrieve a few more of our things.
“We love you, truly. But if you could keep that shit over here, that be great,” Bobbie says, barely holding back her laughter.
“Fine.”
