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Delphina Davis and she was a mean ol ’ bitch,” he said. “Witch, too, and some called her the ‘Witch
of Caddo’.”
    “You
knew her.” It wasn’t a question.
    “Oh,
yeah, I knew her and loathed her.   I
should’ve feared her, too, but I was stupid.” His tone remained as level as a
parking lot but Nola noted the tense set of his shoulders and his tight
expression.
    “How
did you know her?”
    He
advanced into the room and sat on a stool.   “I had a thirst for knowledge, boo.   I wanted to know all I could.   I
thought Delphina could give me information I needed.”
    Repressing
a shudder at the woman’s remembered image, Nola said, “Like what?”
    Johnny
glanced down at the floor. “My grand’mere , she was a traiteuse , a healer.   I dabbled in herbs and such myself, thought
maybe I could fill her shoes after she passed.   I got a reputation for a while as a traiteur .   I made the mistake
thinking that’s what Delphina was, too, but she
wasn’t.”
    “What
was she, then?”
    His
emerald eyes held hers and his expression soured. “A witch,” he said. “A goddamned, black-hearted, evil witch from hell.   Her potions and powers were for bad, never
good—but I learned that the hard way.”
    Nola
shivered with a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather.   She rubbed her arms and wrapped them around
her torso.   Whatever was coming, it was
bad and she knew it, but she had to ask.   “How, Johnny? Tell me.”
    Somehow
she knew it had to be the key to everything she didn’t understand. She wanted
to know but she feared the answer.  
    Johnny
sighed and stood up. “I’ll tell you, I will, but I need coffee first, lots of
it.   Come to the kitchen with me.   I started a pot and it should be ready by
now.”
    She
groaned. “Can’t you just say what she did? Then we can talk about it over a cup
of coffee.   The suspense is killing me.”
    He
shot her a look.   “You won’t believe
me.   At least I don’t expect you that you
will, and you’ll probably leave.   Don’t
blame me for trying to spend a few more minutes with you, cher .   Maybe you don’t know but I’m gonna tell you
true now. I love you, Nola, and if things weren’t the way they are, I’d want to
be with you forever.”
    His
declaration, delivered in an anguished tone, struck her heart like an arrow and
hurt.  
    “I
think I love you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what happened, why everything
changed the other evening.   I don’t know
what I did or said…”
    Tears
choked her throat and threatened to stifle her voice.   Johnny crossed the floor and pulled her into
his arms. “ Moi , je t 'aime. Don’t cry, you, not over this, not over me.   I want you happy.”
    “I’m
happy with you, Jean Batiste.”
    Without
another word, he kissed her hard and fast, his mouth delivering the same
message.   His lips were tender but
urgent.   Nola leaned against him, caught
fast in his embrace and cried.   This had
been what she wanted and needed.   She
inhaled his clean scent, the smell of his soap and beneath it, a hint of masculine musk.   His strong arms cradled her and she thought she’d like it fine if she
never left their circle.   With mouths
locked tight, she knew she’d never felt such deep emotions for any other man
and no matter what his flaws, despite what he would tell her, she wanted Johnny Loutrel .
    “ J’ai gros couer ,” he muttered.   Then he released her. “Let’s go have coffee then, cher , and talk.”
    So
he wanted to cry? Nola wanted to, but she didn’t and wouldn’t.   She trailed him to the kitchen area of his
small house and sat down at the scarred old wooden table, waiting with the
heavy heart of a prisoner about to receive an execution sentence.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Nola
held the cup between both hands and inhaled the rich aroma of the dark roast
blend.   Then she stirred a couple of
spoons of sugar into it and drank.   Across the table, Johnny sipped