Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(46)

“I do.” He gave her an anguished look. “But—”

“Then let me see.” She jerked harder. This time he let go. He stood tensely before her, as if poised to snatch it back. Turning the pages, she found a series of drawings of life in Jackson Square, musicians, artists, the horses waiting to draw carriages full of tourists, paddle wheelers moored at the dock. The drawings were exquisite, capturing light in a way she hadn’t realized a pencil sketch could.

Why had he wanted to hide these from her? Glancing up, she saw worry lining his face, and felt an instant connection. How many times had she built up the guts to show her photographs in workshops, only to have other, more experienced photographers point out all the things she could have done better? Everyone on Pearl Island kept telling her she had talent, but that didn’t make the criticism easier to hear.

Did Luc feel that way about his drawings?

“Luc,” she said. “These are… amazing.”

“Thank you.” His cheeks flushed.

Seeing it, her heart softened. She was right back at Chez Lafitte, watching him struggle with the awkwardness he clearly felt being on a date. Right back to listening to him talk about Vortal and admiring his passion.

Turning another page, she found a drawing of an older woman with a paisley scarf tied around her head, dangling earrings, and an enigmatic smile. Then she noticed the woman was wearing the necklace.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“Mémère.” The love he felt for the woman sounded in his voice. “My grandmother.”

“I thought your grandmother was Cajun, not French.”

“She is, but Mawmaw doesn’t fit her.”

“Is she a fortuneteller?”

“She was,” he said sadly. His body grew taught, as if gathering for an effort that needed strength. “One of the best in New Orleans. Until she lost the necklace. It was her talisman. Looking into the mirror helped clarify her natural gift of sight. That’s why getting it back for her is so important.”

“I see,” Chloe said, wanting to cling to the familiar safety of mistrust, but a frightening crack had formed in that wall. Empathy filled her as she imagined how this woman staring back at her from Luc’s sketchpad had felt losing her ability to tell fortunes. Losing her livelihood.

“Mémère is convinced the necklace sought you out.” He shifted with ill ease as he closed his hands over the sketchpad to take it back, but she wasn’t ready to let go. “If she’s right, then what you felt that day, that you were meant to find it, is true.”

“Except it has nothing to do with Marguerite and Jack.” The thought left her feeling hollow.

“I’m so sorry.” Regret filled his eyes. He let go of the pad with one hand so he could tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You have no idea how truly sorry I am.”

Looking up at him, seeing the raw emotions in his eyes, she felt an uncomfortable lump rise in her throat. She wanted to nestle her cheek into his palm, close her eyes, and savor his touch.

Instead, she glanced down at the sketchpad and turned one more page.

She found her own face looking back at her. Everything inside her stilled.

“What’s this?” she asked, surprised.

“Uh—” He stiffened as he looked down. His hand dropped from her hair to the sketchpad. “You don’t need to see that. It’s just something I did one day when I saw you in Jackson Square.”

“No, I want to see.” Looking at the drawing, she felt as if she’d just caught a reflection in a window of herself at a younger age. His skillful use of shading gave her eyes life. The moment looked so candid, as if she’d just glanced over her shoulder, seen someone she knew, and lit up with joy. “You made me look so beautiful.”

“You were beautiful.”

“No, I was a tomboy with an intentionally horrible wardrobe. You know, ticking off my elders and all that.” She smiled for the first time since that morning. “This, though, is incredible. Did you do it from a photograph?”

“I never draw from photos. I just…” He shrugged. “I draw what I see in my head. I used to see you a lot in Jackson Square.”

“I take it you spent a lot of time there.”

He nodded. “Mémère watched me after school. My parents worked in night clubs, so they slept during the day. Since Mémère told fortunes in the back room of a voodoo shop, she let me hang out in the park so she could keep an eye on me between appointments. Drawing you was no big deal,” he shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “Just part of the overall scene.”

“Why does it embarrass you?” she asked. Then understanding dawned. “Did you have a crush on me?”

The color in his cheeks flooded his whole face. “Maybe. Yeah. A bit of one.”

“Oh, Luc.” She softened further as she remembered his awkwardness after saving AJ. He hadn’t even known how to ask her out. “I wish I’d known back then.”

“Right.” A scoffing laugh escaped him. “Like you would have gone out with me.”

“I didn’t go out with any boys back then,” she told him softly.

“What are you saying? You had tons of boyfriends.”

“Friends who were boys. Not boyfriends.” She smiled at him. “You could have been one of them.”