Tante Lulu reached over and squeezed her hand. “Now, now, sweetie. She caint hurt you anymore.”
Charmaine swiped at her eyes. Amazing, that her mother still had the ability to hurt her, even when she didn’t even try.
“Call her, baby. You’ll feel better if you do.”
Charmaine didn’t see how that was possible. Still, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
“So, do you still love the cowboy?”
Oh, boy! Another subject change. And a doozie this time. “Which cowboy?”
“For shame, girl! They’s only one cowboy you’d be interested in. The one with the mojo.”
“I thought you told him that he lost his mojo. At least that’s what he told me when he came in for dinner.” She smiled as she remembered the chagrin on Rusty’s face that anyone would think he’d lost his masculine appeal.
“Hah! That boy’s got mojo coming out his pores. I jist said that to shake him up a bit. You better lasso him in afore some cowgirl comes along, sees him for the prime animal he is, and ropes him first.”
Oh, yeah! That’s me. Dale-damn-Evans without her horse… or lasso, for that matter.
“You dint answer my question.”
I know I didn’t answer your question, you busybody you. I was hoping you’d forget. Other old folks get memory loss; you get sharper with age. “I’m not sure I ever loved him. I was only nineteen when we were married. What did I know about anything?”
Tante Lulu shrugged. “I doan know ’bout that. You two seemed crazy in love to me.”
“Maybe it was just lust.” Or maybe not.
“Lust is good, too. Take a word of advice from a meddling old coot. Love is rare in this world today. If there’s even the tiniest chance that there’s a spark of love left ‘tween you two, you’re a fool not to jump on it.”
Charmaine nodded, not about to argue with that sentiment. The question was: Do I still love him?
Chapter 9
When curiosity bites you in the butt…
Raoul was approaching the back porch from the side of the house when Tante Lulu asked Charmaine if she still loved him.
He should have made his presence known. What did it matter if Charmaine did or did not love him? She’d already told him point-blank that she wanted more from a relationship than he could offer. And, hell, he’d be begging for heartache if he got involved with her again. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he stopped in his tracks, listening.
When Charmaine said, “I’m not sure I ever loved him,” it felt as if a knife twisted in his heart. Not true, Not true, he protested, but then he reminded himself that he’d said almost the same thing to Amelie when she’d asked if he still loved Charmaine. Did I really love her then? Did she love me? And what about now? Is there still some love left? Do I want there to be?
He wished he hadn’t stopped to listen. He wished he hadn’t heard the question. And he for sure wished he hadn’t heard Charmaine’s answer.
Truth was, sometimes curiosity came back to bite a nosy guy in the butt.
What is wrong with me? On the one hand, I want her so bad I’m a walking hard-on. On the other hand, I wish she’d leave and find some other schmuck. One side of my brain says, “Go for it, bucko. Take whatever you can get.” The other side says, “Slow down, cowboy. Sometimes riding the bull isn’t worth the pain.” What is wrong with me?
I know, I know, said the voice in his head, or rather St. Jude standing over there in all his plastic glory, staring ahead like a… statue.
“Well, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know,” he muttered.
“Who ya talkin’ to, buddy?” Linc asked. He’d just come up beside him, carrying his guitar in one hand and a battered old trumpet case in the other. Following close behind were Clarence, with a plug in his mouth, and Jimmy, with a frown on his mouth.
“Just myself,” he answered.
“Women’ll do that to a fellow,” Linc opined.
Raoul jerked his head toward Linc with surprise. “Who said a woman was involved?”