frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He thought a moment, then yielded to impulse. “How would you like to show me your secret fishing hole? I might be able to slip away one morning. Those cane rows are getting awfully tall, and it’s hard to count heads and discover somebody’s missing.”
Anjele wondered if she dared, but Simona’s plea began to echo, how she should make beautiful memories to think about when the bad times came. She reasoned Simona was right in saying Gator knew she was engaged. There’d be no misunderstanding. She made sure by forcing a casual tone to remark, “Well, if you don’t mind sneaking around. I mean, I do have a fiancé, and although you and I know we’re just friends, having a good time, we wouldn’t want him or anyone else to get the wrong idea.”
He drew in his breath, let it out slowly before nodding. “Sure. I understand. Besides…” Suddenly, he couldn’t resist adding bitterly, “I doubt your father would want you having anything to do with a Cajun, anyway.”
“No,” she regretted having to concede, “I don’t suppose he would.”
They moved on in silence, for suddenly there seemed nothing more to be said.
Finally, they reached the place where she’d left her horse.
Tension hung like an invisible shroud.
“Thank you,” she offered with a shy smile, “for coming to my rescue—again.”
“My pleasure, ma chère .”His joviality was forced. “One of these days we’ll have that fishing trip.”
She felt a disappointed stab. Back there, in the bayou, he’d made it sound like an invitation. Now it seemed like idle conversation, insincere and soon to be forgotten. “Sure.” She tried to sound flip, uncaring. “I’d best get home.”
Brett knew he had to get away at once, or he was going to do what he’d been aching to do all afternoon, which was grab her and hold her and kiss her till they were both out of breath. “Yeah, I guess you do. Good-bye…Angel.” He grinned and used the nickname he teased her about.
Anjele was disappointed. Perhaps, she told herself, it was best if they didn’t meet again, even though Simona’s advice needled.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Wh…what?” Her heart began to pound.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Would you like to go fishing tomorrow?”
It was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy. Struggling to maintain her composure, she explained, “But I won’t be able to get out at dawn. It would be closer to noon. I could meet you at the willow. Nobody’s around that time of day. Poppa lets everyone break an hour for dinner because of the heat. The fish might not be biting then, but…” She gasped, embarrassed at how she’d once again gone on. But he didn’t seem to mind, because he was looking at her in a special way, as though he liked what he was seeing and hearing.
Brett opened and closed his hands at his sides with the aching desire to touch her, hold her. He could tell she sincerely wanted to go with him and, while he longed to be with her, he experienced also a flash of pity. Exuberant, filled with life, she was the most spirited girl he’d ever met, and it was cruel for circumstances to keep her harnessed. Yielding to impulse, he asked bluntly, “How old are you, Anjele?”
“Sixteen.”
He nodded, reminded of how guileless he’d been at that age. No wonder she looked at the world with dewy-eyed innocence. Born into wealth and all that implied, she hadn’t been exposed to stark reality. He’d be doing her a favor, he told himself, to befriend her, and firmly, almost angrily, he promised himself that was as far as their relationship would ever go. “I’ll be there at noon,” he finally told her, then hurried on his way, before they were seen by some of the field hands.
Anjele allowed the mare full rein, galloping all the way home, hair flying in the breeze wildly, happily, in rhythm with her heart.
Chapter Six
Anjele awakened to the sound of her mother’s
Anjele wondered if she dared, but Simona’s plea began to echo, how she should make beautiful memories to think about when the bad times came. She reasoned Simona was right in saying Gator knew she was engaged. There’d be no misunderstanding. She made sure by forcing a casual tone to remark, “Well, if you don’t mind sneaking around. I mean, I do have a fiancé, and although you and I know we’re just friends, having a good time, we wouldn’t want him or anyone else to get the wrong idea.”
He drew in his breath, let it out slowly before nodding. “Sure. I understand. Besides…” Suddenly, he couldn’t resist adding bitterly, “I doubt your father would want you having anything to do with a Cajun, anyway.”
“No,” she regretted having to concede, “I don’t suppose he would.”
They moved on in silence, for suddenly there seemed nothing more to be said.
Finally, they reached the place where she’d left her horse.
Tension hung like an invisible shroud.
“Thank you,” she offered with a shy smile, “for coming to my rescue—again.”
“My pleasure, ma chère .”His joviality was forced. “One of these days we’ll have that fishing trip.”
She felt a disappointed stab. Back there, in the bayou, he’d made it sound like an invitation. Now it seemed like idle conversation, insincere and soon to be forgotten. “Sure.” She tried to sound flip, uncaring. “I’d best get home.”
Brett knew he had to get away at once, or he was going to do what he’d been aching to do all afternoon, which was grab her and hold her and kiss her till they were both out of breath. “Yeah, I guess you do. Good-bye…Angel.” He grinned and used the nickname he teased her about.
Anjele was disappointed. Perhaps, she told herself, it was best if they didn’t meet again, even though Simona’s advice needled.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Wh…what?” Her heart began to pound.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “Would you like to go fishing tomorrow?”
It was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy. Struggling to maintain her composure, she explained, “But I won’t be able to get out at dawn. It would be closer to noon. I could meet you at the willow. Nobody’s around that time of day. Poppa lets everyone break an hour for dinner because of the heat. The fish might not be biting then, but…” She gasped, embarrassed at how she’d once again gone on. But he didn’t seem to mind, because he was looking at her in a special way, as though he liked what he was seeing and hearing.
Brett opened and closed his hands at his sides with the aching desire to touch her, hold her. He could tell she sincerely wanted to go with him and, while he longed to be with her, he experienced also a flash of pity. Exuberant, filled with life, she was the most spirited girl he’d ever met, and it was cruel for circumstances to keep her harnessed. Yielding to impulse, he asked bluntly, “How old are you, Anjele?”
“Sixteen.”
He nodded, reminded of how guileless he’d been at that age. No wonder she looked at the world with dewy-eyed innocence. Born into wealth and all that implied, she hadn’t been exposed to stark reality. He’d be doing her a favor, he told himself, to befriend her, and firmly, almost angrily, he promised himself that was as far as their relationship would ever go. “I’ll be there at noon,” he finally told her, then hurried on his way, before they were seen by some of the field hands.
Anjele allowed the mare full rein, galloping all the way home, hair flying in the breeze wildly, happily, in rhythm with her heart.
Chapter Six
Anjele awakened to the sound of her mother’s
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