Chapter Thirteen
Serafina
I receive another bouquet of flowers from Eagle on Tuesday. This time it’s two dozen red roses.Red for courage and passion.That’s what he wrote in the accompanying card. I use my second pitcher for the flowers and set them out on my breakfast bar. Then I make my way to the couch and stare admiringly at both bouquets. My apartment is filled with a sweet scent. How long would it last if Caleb knew who I really was?
This note contains his cell phone number.Call me when you’re ready.Typical Eagle. Come on strong, then back off. He likes to play. So did I, especially at fifteen. I was young and wild, very pretty and knew it. I close my eyes, recalling our first meeting at the beach.
It was the annual Cajun party at Holly Beach. Hundreds of out-of-towners swarmed our little oasis every year and paid big money to taste our gumbo, drink our homemade wine, and listen to our music. I remember everything about that night like it happened yesterday.
I had my favorite red bikini on and was carrying a tray of Coronas to share with my friends. Somehow I didn’t notice the guy stretched out on a beach towel in front of me. I tripped, spilling beer all over him. Embarrassed and extremely apologetic, I scrambled to gather the bottles and then tried to wipe him off with his towel. Our hands brushed and lightning struck—the connection was instantaneous. As I was about to leave, Nathan Abshire and the Pine Grove Boys came on, playing “La Valse de Holly Beach” (the Holly Beach Waltz).
Eagle knocked everything out of my hands, tugged me into his arms, and started to dance with me. Every true Cajun knows how to waltz. And Caleb is no exception.
Tears fill my eyes. I long to go back. But we never can. The sooner I let him know, the better. I walk into the kitchen and grab my cell. I’ve already memorized his number. Reluctantly, I dial and wait for him to answer. He does on the fourth ring.
“Serafina?”
“Hi, Eagle.”
I can hear him smile. “How are you?”
“Good. Thank you for the beautiful flowers.”
“You’re welcome.”
There’s a pause but it’s not awkward. We’re both formulating what to say next. Even though he thinks I’m someone else, we’re still connected. Time and distance can’t change what nature has already dictated.
“I-I can’t do this, Eagle . . .” I’m tripping over my own tongue. I know what I need to say, but just can’t make myself do it. If I do, I’ll never see him again. Never hear his beautiful, deep voice again. I went without for so long. And now . . . God help me. I’m not ready to spend another six years wondering where he’s at and what he’s doing. Who he’s with. What girl he’s falling in love with. My hands start to tremble.
“Do what, darlin’?” he asks.
“This.”
“Explain whatthismeans.”
“You.”
He chuckles. “I don’t remember asking you todome yet.”
His play on words is impossible to ignore. I laugh out loud, although the thought of making love with him is bittersweet. “You’re incorrigible.”
“What’s that make you?”
“Hopeless.”
“I like hopeless,” he says sadly. “We match.”
“Do we?”
“I want to see you again, Serafina. I want to kiss your hot little mouth and touch you all over.”
That’s tame sex talk for Eagle. He’s trying to be a gentleman. “I called to let you know there’s no room in my life for a man.”
“I don’t believe you, Serafina.”
“You need to.”
“Are you into women?”
