Bayou Born(5)

“Design the flyers. I’ll get them printed here.”

“I can do that.”

“Two years, Branna. The clock is already ticking down.”

There was an unmistakable hint of glee in her mother’s voice. “We agreed on two years for your...sabbatical from home. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She clicked the “end” button on the phone, but before she could put it down, it rang again. “What now?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing you’ve been talking with your mother?”

Branna sighed. “Biloxi, you and your ESP. She’s trying the guilt-trip of the century. Are you going home for Memorial weekend?”

“No. These days, I’m lucky to make it to the big thing—Mardi Gras.”

“So, what’s up with you?”

“The wall of secrecy about your sister seems to be growing. Are you going to tell me what happened? Where is Camilla? I need to talk with her and can’t locate her.”

She paused. Though she usually confided in her cousin, she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words.

“Hello?”

“Camilla is fine,” she answered brightly.

“Don’t give me that sing-songy-sales-person voice. I want the truth.”

“Have you talked to Momma about this?”

“Aunt Macy’s her own PR department with a spin on everything. She offers glibness in place of substance or truth. Always a smile and a perky mood. I know my Aunt Macy, and she’s covering up something. What gives? I want to talk to my other female Lind cousin.”

“Momma received a postcard from Camilla just before I moved. She’s in Cody, Wyoming working for the summer. I think at a diner.”

“Camilla? A diner?” Biloxi laughed hard.

“Momma’s got the address. Seems Camilla somehow lost her cell phone.”

“But Branna, why is she in no-man’s-land Cody, Wyoming?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s where she ran out of gas and money.” Or maybe Camilla thought she was far enough away that she could hide from her conscience? She wouldn’t know for sure until she’d actually talked with her younger sister about her latest disappearing act. For the last six months, Camilla hadn’t answered her calls.

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“We never had a fight.” Thankfully, those words had the added benefit of being true. She might not tell her cousin everything, but she never lied either.

“God! Talkin’ to you is like pulling hen’s teeth. When I get this figured out, you’ll fess up.”

“Nothing to fess-up to. If Camilla’s got a problem with me, you need to go to the source. That would be her. But you can tell her to call me if you find her. Any photo contracts that might take you up that way?”

“No. I’m headed to Tokyo, then Holland for photo shoots. Are all families as complicated as ours?”

That made Branna smile. “Darlin’, we’re not complicated. We’re normal. I’ve got to run to work—Lord, I love saying that—so when you find my sister, tell her to come home and stop breaking Momma’s heart.”

She hung up and finished arranging the newly purchased items in the pantry. She’d never grocery shopped for just one before. They always fed an army at Fleur de Lis. Her first grocery run in Lakeview, and she’d bought the smallest size or quantity of flour, sugar, and other staples. The assembled items looked like accessories for a dollhouse, petite and cute.

A peek out the kitchen window brought her attention to the sun. Or lack of it. A few moments ago, the sun blazed. Shadows that once stretched across the lawn had disappeared.

Typical Florida afternoon. Sun. Rain. Sauna.

An hour later, after changing clothes and checking her makeup for the third time—no telling who she might meet at the bookstore—she headed for the college.

Gray clouds hung low in the sky, so low that in the distance, the clouds appeared to blanket the ground. Dust and debris twirled in gusts of thick moist air that buffeted against her car. She drove past flickering streetlights, thankfully wrapped in the comfort of her Volvo’s air conditioning.

The sky continued to darken and the bank of clouds followed her eastbound.

The wind suddenly stopped, as if to catch its breath, then whipped up again harder. She jumped in her seat when a deep rumbling bass shook the Volvo’s windows. Had thunder really rattled the fillings in her teeth?

She shuddered, and then counted, “One. Two. Three. Four.”

Four miles? The wall of darkening clouds seemed closer. Lightning’s long skeletal fingers could strike from miles away. That’s what she feared most. People died every year due to lightning strikes, and after all, Florida was the lightning capital of the United States. The college would be a safe harbor to ride out the storm—if she managed to make it to the door before it started to pour.

She stopped behind a car at the red light on Highway 90 and gripped the steering wheel. “Change. Change,” she shouted over the music of her favorite classical Bach CD. “Change! Darn it!”

The signal light flickered to green. Immediately after the car ahead moved forward, she made a right turn. She watched the clouds lumber across the sky as she drove past tall loblolly pines swaying in the quickening wind. If one fell, it would block the road leading to the community college.

“Almost there.” She readjusted her tight grip on the steering wheel and resisted the urge to floor the gas and fly along the straight-of-way. She’d been warned on her visits to the college that sometimes the local police set up radar traps to catch unsuspecting speeders—college students were the primary goal, but they didn’t discriminate if they caught a faculty member or two every now and then. It had been suggested to her that since the police bulletin in Sunday’s paper listed names of speeders, faculty members might want avoid their names in print. Not the best impression for students.

She’d never been ticketed in her life, but with the storm bearing down, maybe it was worth the risk today.

On her right, only yards away, the town’s airport runway ended perpendicular to the road. The oversized airstrip allowed commercial jets, cargo carriers, and even military aircraft to land. She’d read that tidbit on the internet when doing research to familiarize herself with Lakeview. In contrast to the small number of only five thousand city residents, the runway was a behemoth. And it made her tense each time she drove past it on the exposed stretch of road.

Watching her speed carefully, she recalled her second visit to the college. A huge gray, military-cargo plane had rumbled down the tarmac. Black wheels turned with dizzying ferocity. The engine roared as the plane picked up speed. They were on a direct collision course.

Cargo plane verses Volvo—no contest.

She had slammed on her brakes. Just before she panicked completely, the gray hulk gained lift, cleared the road and trees like a prehistoric bird taking flight. She’d bet money the pilot had a good laugh. He probably saw fear in her eyes and thought she peed her pants. He’d be half-right.

Today, thankfully, no plane was in sight.

“Finally!”

Before her, the gates to the college stood open. A large, carved stone sign welcomed everyone to Lakeview Community College. The spotlights on the sign flickered on as she passed. Could she outrun the storm? With no one else on the road, she floored it. She had a better chance of talking herself out of a ticket with a college security officer than with the local police.

A deep rumble shook the earth. With her tires throwing gravel, she spun into the Student Union parking lot. She grabbed her stuff and hoped to beat the on-coming deluge.

Her purse and tote bounced against her back as she sprinted to the building. Halfway there, fat drops started to fall.

Splat.

Cold rain stung her bare arms. When she made it to the canopy covering the building’s back door, her clothes were mostly wet.

“Nothing like a summer baptism,” she grumbled as she rummaged through her tote looking for a package tissues. No such luck.

She pushed wet hair behind her ears, and then slapped wetness off her arms. How had she forgotten to put an umbrella in her car?

When she opened the door to the Student Union, cold air hit her. Not only didn’t she have an umbrella, she was sweater-less. The building was cold enough to refrigerate beef. Damp all over, she’d probably freeze.

She shivered from the cold, but excitement, too.

Her dream had turned to reality.

The first job she’d landed all on her own. The next step on her new journey waited down the long hall.

With a determined stride, she walked. Or was she floating? She had a right to be proud. After the last six months of hiding, trying to protect her family from scandal, and drowning in self-doubt, this was the opportunity she wanted to define herself, her life, with no influences from any of her family.

A smile tugged at her mouth. It was a gold-star day when President Westcott had called and offered her the job. If she hadn’t met him, based on their phone call alone, she’d be worried that he was weird. After all, whoever said, “On the horns of a dilemma?”