After Midnight - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Neurotic Temptress
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 13

“Rachel Lynn Summers, if you don’t stop playing with that, we’re marching home right this minute instead of visiting Daddy.”

Jean and her daughter were standing in front of the twin elevators in X-Gene Records’ New York building, waiting for the chance to travel up to Scott’s office.

At her mother’s stern warning, Rachel removed her fingers from the sand in the ashtray, only to replace them once again as she looked away.

The sound of an office door opening caused Jean to turn her head to the left. While she watched, Remy LeBeau and two of his bodyguards emerged from the threshold and slowly made their way to the elevators.

A flash of anger sparked in Jean’s gut. She didn’t know LeBeau personally, but what she heard from the grapevine was enough to convince her that he wasn’t someone she wanted to get to know. Especially not with the latest buzz that had been circulating in the news.

Remy lifted his gaze and caught sight of them near the elevator. “Jean,” he greeted, purposefully striding over and giving her a friendly smile.

The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes though, and she couldn’t help but think that there was something bothering him. Probably the fact that he got caught screwing around on Dixie, she thought. Nonetheless, she forced herself to be polite, and mustered up a lukewarm smile in return.

“We’ve never been formally introduced, chère,” he continued, stopping a short distance from her. “But ’m -- ”

“Yes, I know who you are,” she interrupted.

Remy was taken aback by the chill in her voice. She was speaking to him for civility’s sake, but had she been given a choice, she probably would have slapped him across the face. An’ none too lightly neither, judgin’ from de fire in her eyes. Not that he could blame her; not with everything that the media was saying about him.

He chose to turn his attention to the curious sixteen-month-old who had ceased her ashtray artwork long enough to stare at him openly. Bending to her level and favoring her with a charming grin, he said, “Bonjour, petite. Ya must be Rachel, non? Ya Tante Dixie talks ‘bout ya all de time.”

“Ixie?” she asked eagerly, as if expecting her godmother to appear from behind Remy’s back.

Jean interjected before he could say more. “Is there anything I can help you with, Remy?” She refused to be taken over by his charismatic demeanor. In her book, he already had one strike against him when he used the nickname only she, Ororo or Rachel used for Rogue.

He straightened before answering. “Oui. Do you have a minute?”

“We were just on our way to have lunch with Scott,” she replied, picking her daughter up and settling her against her hip.

“Dis won’ take long, I promise.” He gestured down the corridor to the office they had just come out of. “I’d rather not have de conversation out here,” he explained.

She nodded before preceding him to the designated office door. Remy rapped on the wood soundly, and then entered without waiting for an answer.

“Mark, c’n we borrow ya conference room f’r a bit?” he asked the man sitting behind one of the numerous desks in the large office space.

Mark was a short, blonde man with thick glasses that looked reminiscent of an era gone by. “Sure thing, Remy. Just make sure you lock up when you’re through. I’m heading out for lunch.” He nodded politely when he caught sight of the vice president’s wife. “Mrs. Summers.”

“I didn’t know you were on such friendly terms with the legal department,” she commented when the three of them had entered the conference room, leaving the bodyguards outside the door.

“Label’s been workin’ overtime wit’ me lately,” he responded lightly, taking a seat only after both she and Rachel had done so. “It’s hard work diggin’ ya name out o’ six feet o’ mud.”

A silence fell over them, punctuated only be the soft ticking of the clock on the far wall. Personality-wise, they had little in common, other than both having some form of a relationship with Rogue. Small talk was a fruitless gesture, Jean realized, and she quickly decided to end the civil pleasantries.

“You don’t deserve her.” Her voice was quiet, and yet painfully blunt in its frankness.

Remy met her eyes squarely. Never skipping a beat, he said, “I know.” He ran his hand through his russet locks. “When was de last time ya heard from her?”

She was not taken in by the brief expression of hurt that crossed his features. “I take it she isn’t returning your calls, then. Can you really blame her? After everything that’s happened in recent weeks? My suggestion to you, Remy, would be to give her some space. Let her think things through a bit.”

“Is dat what you’d do, chère, if someone told you dat another woman was havin’ ya husband’s baby? T’ink t’ings t’rough?”

“Initially, no.” She leaned forward in her chair. “No woman alive receives that kind of news with any semblance of sanity. I think you’re lucky she’s simply refusing to take your calls. With Dixie’s temper, I expected her to slice out a chunk of your hide. She’ll probably keep to herself for a few days before she’ll want to talk about anything.”

“It’s been two weeks.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “When was de last time ya heard from her?” he asked again.

Jean stared at him blankly for a few moments, trying to digest what he had just told her. She knew that Rogue had a tendency to fly off the handle at first, but when she had a chance to cool down, she always waded through difficulties with a clear head. The longest it ever took her to calm her nerves was a day, maybe a day and a half at most. But letting two weeks go by without trying to resolve an issue was out of character for her. Her stubborn nature wouldn’t allow it. And certainly not with someone as important to her as Remy was.

“Almost a month ago,” she replied to his earlier question. “I called her to wish her good luck on the last leg of her tour.”

“An’ ya haven’t heard from her since den?”

She shook her head.

“What ‘bout ‘Ro? Ya t’ink she coulda heard from her?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.” She was starting to get a bad feeling. “Have you tried talking to her family?”

“All three o’ dem say dey don’ know where she’s gone.”

Now Jean was really getting worried. “Even Raven? That’s impossible! Raven always knows where Dixie is.”

“Well, it’s one o’ two t’ings den,” he said. “Either she really don’ know where her daughter is, or she jus’ don’ wan’ tell me.” He watched as Jean pulled out her cell phone. “Who ya callin’?”

“Logan,” she answered, dialing. “After Raven, he’s the next in line to know where she is.”

“Won’ do ya no good, chère. He’s gone, too.”

She looked up at him. “You mean Logan’s with her?” She sighed in relief. “Well then, we’re worrying for nothing. Logan will keep her out of trouble.”

“If he’s even wit’ her.”

Frowning, Jean asked, “What do you mean?”

“How c’n we be sure somet’in’ didn’ happen t’her? Last time I talked t’her, she was s’pposed t’meet me in m’hotel in L.A. Dat was two weeks ago.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “This wouldn’t have been immediately after finding out the results of the paternity test, would it?” When he didn’t respond, she added, “I thought as much.” She pushed back her chair and stood, bending to pick up Rachel out of her seat. “A piece of advice from one of her best friends: I think you should stay away from her. Rogue’s been hurt too many times in her life as it is.”

“I wouldn’ hurt her, Jean.”

She didn’t comment, but turned to face him; her expression clearly revealing how she really felt. “You’re probably a good man, Remy. Just not good enough for her.” About to turn the door handle and exit the room, she suddenly inquired softly, “Is the child yours?”

Her question was met by silence until she raised her head to look at him. He was leaning back against the plush office chair, a blank expression across his face.

“Accordin’ t’de test results, ‘m de father.” He hissed out the words as if they were burning his tongue, but it was enough confirmation for Jean. She left him without a backward glance.

“Dada!” Rachel cried as she and her mother entered the vice president’s spacious corner office ten minutes later.

Scott rose from behind the desk to receive his daughter in his arms as she flung herself toward him. “Hiya, pumpkin. I missed you.” He smiled over her shoulder at his wife. “Hi there, beautiful. I missed you as well. Did you get stuck in traffic on the way over?”

Jean rested a hand on Rachel’s back as she leaned forward and greeted her husband with a kiss. “No. Just ran into some stuff.” She smiled weakly.

“‘Some stuff’?” He sat down opposite Jean in the matching guest chairs fronting his desk, settling Rachel onto his lap. “Is something wrong back at the house?”

“No, nothing like that,” she assured him, taking a deep breath. “We just met Mr. Remy LeBeau.”

“Oh.” Scott knew that she had a bad feeling about the Cajun singer. For some reason, she didn’t trust him. When Rogue first told her about her relationship with the man, Jean had spent the entire afternoon telling Scott how wrong Remy seemed for her. And how she was sure he would hurt Rogue in the end. Scott was certain that it made Jean more miserable to have been right than wrong.

“He wanted to talk. About Dixie,” she told him, reaching over to straighten Rachel’s hair as best she could. The child seemed to have a special talent for mussing what had started out as a tidy appearance. “It seems he hasn’t heard from her in two weeks.”

“That’s understandable, considering the circumstances.”

She smiled at him. “My point exactly. I told him as much.”

“And?”

“And I think he thinks it’s something more than just her being angry with him. He said that Logan was gone as well, and I told him that if Logan was with Rogue then there really wasn’t any reason to be worried. But he was still bothered. Almost as if he was…” she tried to think of an appropriate word, “…concerned of something happening to her.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Jean sighed. “What could possibly happen to Rogue? She has security around her every hour of the day.”

Scott watched as she began dialing on her cell. “What are you doing?”

“Calling ‘Ro. Maybe she’s heard from Dixie.” She waited as the call was being put through. A few moments later, a voice came on the line. “’Ro? Honey, where are you?” She could hear wind rustling in the background.

“The Grand Canyon. Jeannie, you should be here; the view is absolutely breath taking.”

“I’ll book the next flight,” quipped Jean. “Listen, ‘Ro, I need to ask you something. When was the last time you talked to Dixie?”

“Not since her tour ended. Why? What has happened?” Ororo’s voice suddenly filled with worry.

“Nothing,” Jean quickly assured her. “Well, nothing yet. It just seems that our little southerner has gone slightly AWOL and no one seems to know where she is.”

“I see,” Ororo said, calming her voice considerably. “I heard about the situation with Remy a few days ago. I left a message for her but she has yet to return my call. Are we sure this isn’t merely one of her ‘thinking’ expeditions?”

“If it is then it’s lasted longer than usual.” From atop her position on her father’s lap, Rachel stretched out her small arms in an attempt to take the phone from her mother. “’Ro, hold on; there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.” She carefully placed the cell against her daughter’s ear.

“Row-row!” the child exclaimed happily into the phone. A few seconds later, she giggled at something her godmother said. She then vigorously nodded her head, unaware of the fact that there was no way Ororo could see the gesture.

“All right, sweetie, say goodbye to Auntie ‘Ro,” Jean softly told her.

“Row-row, bye-bye.”

Jean smiled as she pulled the cell away from Rachel and back to her own ear. “She kept nodding her head. What were you telling her?” She could hear the smile in her friend’s voice as she answered.

“I asked her if she would like me to bring home the gifts I bought for her on my last trip.”

“Ororo, no. Not more gifts! At the rate you two are going, we’ll have to convert the guest room into a storage space for your presents alone!”

“What were the words Dixie used? ‘Please and a half, Jeannie!’ I’m afraid it’s out of your hands, my friend.”

Jean chuckled. There were some things that would never change, she supposed. “Will you let me know if you hear from Rogue?” she requested, remembering her original intention for calling.

“Of course. And the same goes for you. Give my love to Scott.”

“I will. Bye, ‘Ro.” Deep in thought, she depressed the ‘End’ button.

“She hasn’t heard from Rogue either, huh?” asked Scott.

“No, she hasn’t.” She regarded her cell phone reflectively. “She sends you her love, though.”

He reached over to squeeze his wife’s knee. “Hey,” he whispered softly, “I’m sure Rogue’s okay. It’s not as if someone would want to kidnap her or anything. Besides, like you said, Logan’s probably with her, right?”

“Right.” She mustered up a smile for both Scott and Rachel as she stood, pulling them up with her. Catching the little girl between them, she playfully planted a loving kiss onto her husband’s lips. “Now, how about that lunch?”

Inside mah head, th’ silence was deafenin’. Th’ thoughts that plagued me since we came up north two weeks ago fin’lly went away with th’ acrid taste o’ alcohol. Good stuff, too. Guido had some taste in liquor. Ah’d fo’gotten what it was called -- Ah’d know if Ah didn’ have so much o’ it in me -- but it was clear like water an’ had a kick like a blow ta th’ head. Ah wasn’t drunk -- not yet, anyway. Ah would’ve liked ta be though.

We didn’ tell anyone we were headin’ up here. Only ones that did know were Sam an’ Rosie, an’ Ah made them swear not ta tell anyone where we were goin’. Not that they knew anythin’ ‘sides th’ fact that we were somewhere in Canada. Rosie prob’ly cracked under Momma’s interrogation by now. Not even a gov’ment spy was safe in Momma’s hands. Fo’ th’ past week, Ah was half expectin’ her ta come bargin’ in on us, but Canada’s a big country. Lot o’ land ta search if ya didn’ have a specific destination in mind.

We spent th’ first week cleanin’ up th’ cabin an’ buyin’ th’ necessary supplies at th’ general store in th’ next town ovah. Logan usually didn’ keep his place all that tidy since he never brought guests up here. It was more o’ a get-away house fo’ him whenevah he felt th’ need ta ‘re-connect’ with nature. But th’ cleanin’ did me some good, Ah s’ppose. Kept me busy enough so that Ah wouldn’t think ‘bout things too much.

But th’ past couple o’ days were th’ worst. There wasn’t much ta do out here in th’ middle o’ nowhere. Logan didn’ even think ta buy a TV, not that Ah’d watch if there was one handy. Ah didn’ wanna haveta hear Remy’s name on ev’ry othah program they were airin’. Bad enough that it was runnin’ through ev’ry othah thought in mah head.

Speakin’ o’ mah head, it started ta pound as someone entered th’ kitchen. Felt like Ah was whackin’ mah noggin ‘gainst th’ table Ah was leanin’ on with each step o’ th’ othah person’s footfall. Guess th’ alcohol wasn’t workin’ as good as Ah’d hoped.

Whoevah it was came ovah ta th’ table an’ picked up th’ liquor bottle, sniffin’ th’ contents. Logan. He’s th’ only one Ah know who can sound disapprovin’ without even doin’ anythin’.

“Give me five more minutes, sugah,” Ah said, not even botherin’ ta lift mah head from th’ cool comfort o’ th’ table. “By then Ah’ll be drunk enough ta handle one o’ yoah lectures ‘bout not drinkin’.”

Ah heard him pull out a chair an’ sit down. “Ya drink all this by yerself, darlin’?”

Ah knew he was holdin’ up th’ nearly empty bottle. Ah nodded in answer ta his question but still refused ta look at him.

“Well, least I taught ya how ta hold yer liquor. Most people would be singin’ cabaret songs on tabletop with the amount o’ alcohol you’ve had.” He pushed th’ booze aside an’ judgin’ from th’ soft thud Ah heard, rested his hands on th’ table. “C’mon, kid, get up from there.”

Ah raised mah head slowly, only ‘cause anythin’ faster would’ve made me vomit. “So let’s have it, Logan. What’re th’ pearls o’ wisdom that yoah gonna bestow on me t’day?”

“Ya look like hell.”

“Good one. Ah’ll have ta remember that if evah someone wants me ta write a book.”

“What’re ya doin’? Drinkin’ ain’t yer thing.”

“Maybe it should be,” Ah protested. “Seems ta work jus’ fine fo’ othah folks.”

“Yeah, an’ that’s why they’re in twelve-step rehab programs an’ not a successful recordin’ artist.” He got up an’ walked ovah ta th’ refrigerator. Ah watched him pull out some bananas, honey, milk an’ ice cream. “You’ve been closed-lipped ‘bout you an’ the Cajun since we got here, an’ the three o’ us have been givin’ you yer space. But enough is enough, Rogue. Ya have ta talk about it at some point.” He started throwin’ ev’rythin’ inta th’ blender.

“Ah don’ wanna think about it anymore, Logan. It hurts when Ah do.”

“It’ll hurt even more, an’ fer a lot longer, if ya don’ face it now.” He snapped th’ lid ta th’ blender shut. “This might hurt yer head a bit.”

That was an understatement. Th’ shrill whirlin’ motion was shootin’ through mah skull at a mile a minute. Felt like he was blendin’ mah brain instead o’ th’ food.

Thankfully, it stopped a short while later. Logan poured his concoction inta two tall glasses an’ set one down in front o’ me, before settlin’ back inta his chair.

“What’s this for?” Ah asked, eyein’ th’ thick, goopy mixture. It had a slight yellowish tinge ta it from th’ bananas he’d thrown in.

“Fer yer hangover.”

“Ah ain’t drunk.”

“The bananas will calm yer stomach,” he said, ignorin’ mah comment alt’gether. “That, an’ the honey will bring up yer blood sugar levels. The milk is fer soothin’ an’ re-hydratin’ yer system, an’ the ice cream is fer thickness. Plus I know how much ya love ice cream.” He took a gulp o’ his own milkshake, an’ was in th’ process o’ wipin’ his mouth when he saw me watchin’ him. “Will ya jus’ drink it already? Ain’t like I’m gonna poison ya or somethin’.”

Ah raised mah eyebrow at that statement, but swallowed anyway. Th’ mixture slid down mah throat with ease, an’ Ah haveta admit, it sure tasted good. Before Ah knew it, Ah finished half o’ th’ glass.

“So what’s got ya all inna mood?”

Ah snorted. “Maybe you ain’t heard, sugah, but there’s a woman out there havin’ th’ baby o’ th’ man Ah’m in love with.”

“An’ yer fallin’ apart ‘cause o’ that?”

All Ah could do was gap at him. He was brushin’ ev’rythin’ off like it was nothin’ special. It wasn’t ev’ryday that a girl finds out her lover is cheatin’ on her. An’ got someone else pregnant ta boot!

“Ah’d say that’s a good ‘nough reason not ta feel quite so happy at th’ moment.”

“So ya got a bum hand. What, that’s it? Yer jus’ gonna fold without tryin’ ta take the house?” He leaned back in his chair. “Thought ya had more brass than that, darlin’.”

“Ah ain’t that tipsy ta not notice when yoah usin’ reverse psychology on me, Logan.” Ah took anothah gulp o’ th’ milkshake. “Remy lied ta me,” Ah said softly, feelin’ th’ hurt build up in mah chest again.

“So? He ain’t the first guy ta do so.”

“Will you stop defendin’ him! Whose side are ya on anyway?”

“I’m on yer side, kid. An’ that means gettin’ you outta this rut ya put yerself in. Keep goin’.”

Mah life felt like it was fallin’ apart at th’ seams an’ here he was takin’ it calmer than a bomb technician on th’ job. Ah shook mah head in disbelief, but decided ta play along anyway. “He told me that th’ allegations weren’t true. He said that he wasn’t th’ father. An’ then three weeks later, th’ tests came back positive.” Ah raised mah eyes ta Logan’s, willin’ him ta understand. “Ah called th’ lab. There’s no way those results could have been tampered with.” Ah clamped mah hand around th’ glass so tightly, mah knuckles paled. “Ah don’ know which hurts more: th’ fact that he lied straight ta mah face, or that anothah woman is bearin’ him a child.”

Fo’ th’ past two weeks, Ah’d been tryin’ so hard ta keep all mah emotions in, but Ah couldn’t do it anymore. Th’ hurt an’ th’ tears got th’ better o’ me, an’ Ah started shakin’ all ovah. Logan came ‘round th’ table an’ wrapped me in a brotherly hug, rubbin’ mah back in an attempt ta calm me down.

Ah did eventu’lly. Aftah soakin’ Logan’s shirt right through. He did that a lot fo’ me, Ah noticed; acted as mah ‘tear-absorber.’ He’s seen me through Cody an’ Rob an’ ev’ry othah dysfunctional relationship Ah’ve evah had in mah life. Ah’d consider him one o’ mah girlfriends if th’ idea wouldn’t bruise his male ego so much.

He looked down at me an’ asked real soft like, “Do you love him?”

Ah blew mah nose on th’ tissue he held out fo’ me. “O’ course,” Ah sniffled. “Ah don’ think Ah could evah stop. But mah head keeps goin’ back ta that paternity test. How can ya love someone who would flat out lie ta you like that?”

“What’s yer heart sayin’, darlin’?”

Ah sighed. In mah opinion, th’ damn thing couldn’t be trusted. It’d been wrong on more than one occasion. Safer jus’ ta listen ta th’ logical side o’ mahself. “It’s sayin’ that he wouldn’t do anythin’ ta hurt me. Not intentionally, at least.”

Ah felt him nod. “That’s what I thought. Shut that head o’ yers up an’ start listenin’ ta yer heart.” He tilted mah head up an’ made me look at him. “The Cajun loves ya, kid. O’ that I’m sure. Somethin’ musta happened that night. Let him tell ya what it was; hear him out. All you’ve heard so far is that girl’s side o’ the story. He’s bound ta have one, too.” He flexed th’ fingers o’ his right hand so that th’ knuckles cracked. “An’ if his story is too half-baked ta be believable then I’ll beat the livin’ gumbo outta him.”

A li’l hiccup that was s’pposed ta be a laugh came outta mah mouth. “Thank you, Logan,” Ah whispered, wrappin’ mah arms around his waist an’ huggin’ him tightly. “Yoah right. Ah haveta talk ta Remy an’ straighten this whole mess out. Ah owe him that much.”

“That’s more like the spitfire I know.” He gently chucked me on th’ chin. “How’s yer head feelin’? Still got the nausea?”

Ah took a few seconds ta straighten an’ see what mah body felt like. Th’ poundin’ in mah head had subsided an’ Ah didn’ feel quite so woozy anymore. “Ah’ll be damned. Looks like that sludge ya forced on me did th’ trick.”

He grunted at mah comment. “Tried an’ true method o’ curin’ a hangover, darlin’. Never fails.”

We heard footsteps approach th’ kitchen doorway an’ both o’ us turned in that direction. Guido entered with a lopsided grin on his face.

“So ya were able to straighten the punk out, eh, Logan?” he joked, walkin’ ovah ta th’ counter. He caught sight o’ th’ blender an’ took a whiff o’ th’ contents. “I’m guessin’ someone had a little too much to drink if the hangover potion was needed.” He moved ovah ta th’ refrigerator an’ started pullin’ out munchies o’ ev’ry kind.

“Where’s Karen?” Ah asked, brushin’ away mah tears an’ smoothin’ down mah hair.

“In the living room. Lousy poker player,” he muttered through a mouthful o’ donut.

Ah couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like someone is spendin’ an awful lot o’ time with Karen lately,” Ah teased him. If Ah didn’ know better, Ah would’ve sworn Ah saw Guido blush.

He set th’ food onta th’ counter before tellin’ me, “You’re crazy, kid. I’m just in it for the dough.”

An’ speak o’ th’ devil. Karen came inta th’ room holdin’ a cell phone.

“Logan, it’s for you. It’s Detective Cassidy,” she said, handin’ th’ cell ta Logan.

It seemed like fo’ever fo’ him ta have th’ conversation, but in reality, it took only a couple o’ minutes. He kept noddin’ his head an’ repeatin’ th’ word ‘okay’ inta th’ phone. There was no othah reason fo’ Detective Cassidy ta call ‘cept fo’ reportin’ news on th’ Haller case. He had contacted us th’ week before ta say th’ NYPD was followin’ a lead an’ settin’ up a sting operation ta trap Haller. We hadn’t heard anythin’ since then.

Ah felt th’ moisture build on mah palms. This call could mean that th’ whole stalker ordeal was ovah, or that we’d haveta hide out in Canada a while longer. Not that Ah didn’ like it out here; th’ scenery was beautiful. It was jus’ that Ah’d turned inta a city girl ovah th’ years, an’ Ah couldn’t take th’ stillness an’ quiet fo’ very long.

Fin’lly, Logan set th’ phone aside. We all waited fo’ him ta speak, but when he didn’ say anythin’ Ah got impatient.

“Well?” Ah demanded. “What did he say?”

He raised his eyes an’ Ah heard mah breath catch in mah throat. Th’ expression on his face didn’ look very good.

Takin’ a deep breath, he stated, “Haller’s in custody. They arrested him last night.”

Guido an’ Karen let out sighs o’ relief an’ started carryin’ on ‘bout how ev’rythin’ was gonna be okay. Ah couldn’t join in th' happiness fo’ some reason. Not yet, at least.

“Hey, kid, relax,” Logan told me, puttin’ an arm ‘round mah shoulder. “Didn’t mean ta scare ya jus’ now. I was jus’ teasin’.”

Ah looked at him seriously an’ asked, “We can go home now, right, Logan? It’s ovah?”

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s over. Cassidy says with the evidence mounted against him, Haller’s got no chance o’ seein’ the light o’ day anytime soon,” he assured me. “We’ll book the next flight out an’ be back in the city in no time.”

Th’ smile on mah face couldn’t have gotten any bigger.

There was nothin’ sweeter than walkin’ in through th’ front doors o’ th’ house. Ah knew we’d only been gone two weeks -- tourin’ took us away from home fo’ a longer period o’ time -- but there was somethin’ a li’l claustrophobic ‘bout bein’ stuck in a cabin fo’ that long. Got a li’l touch o’ cabin fever, Ah s’ppose. Ah was jus’ glad that it was fin’lly ovah. No more worryin’ ‘bout someone chasin’ aftah me an’ sendin’ me creepy love letters. Never felt so free in mah life.

‘Til Momma locked me inta a bear hug that coulda choked off even a grizzly’s air supply. Seemed like she came outta nowhere soon as Ah called out we were home. Reenie, Kurt an’ Rosie followed her out o’ th’ livin’ room.

“Child, if you ever, EVER, go off somewhere without telling me again, I will personally chain you to the attic floor,” she hissed inta mah ear. If it were possible, her grip got even tighter.

“Ah told Rosie, Momma,” Ah croaked out, pleadin’ with mah eyes ta Kurt ta get her off me before Ah lost consciousness.

“Yes, and then told her not to tell anyone where you had gone!”

She let me go then, thankfully, an’ Ah turned ta Reenie ta give her a hug. “Ah knew you’d get it outta her eventu’lly,” Ah answered.

“Where’s Logan?” Kurt asked, wrappin’ me up in his arms as well.

Guido answered fo’ me while settin’ some o’ our bags down. “Dropped him off at the police station. He’s checkin’ up on Haller’s status.” He turned back ta th’ main door. “I’m gonna run a perimeter check, just to be sure. Lock this behind me.”

Once he was gone, we all moved inta th’ livin’ room. Momma was still a li’l upset with me fo’ not tellin’ her personally where Ah was goin’, but she could never stay mad at me fo’ long. They all started catchin’ me up on th’ lastest news, carefully stayin’ away from anythin’ that had ta do with Remy, Ah noticed.

‘Bout an hour later, Logan strode through th’ door lookin’ more relaxed than he had in months.

“Well?” pressed Momma while he took a seat in one o’ th’ armchairs.

“They’re holdin’ a preliminary hearin’ fer Haller next week ta decide whether or not ta release him on bail. But Cassidy says that he’ll be denied, what with the evidence they gathered from his apartment.” One o’ his signature smug expressions appeared on his face. “Open an’ shut case, they say. He’s lookin’ at two ta three life sentences when convicted.”

Th’ choice o’ words didn’ go unnoticed ta me. When. Not ‘if.’ When. It was a sure thing. Like Logan said, Haller would prob’ly never see th’ light o’ day again. Which meant he’d be put in some jail cell far, far away from me an’ mine.

“That’s good to know,” Reenie said. “One less thing to worry about.”

Kurt, who was sittin’ on top o’ th’ armrest beside me, smiled gently. “Speaking of worrying, liebling, there’s someone else who has been doing a lot of that since you disappeared.” He placed his hand on mah head an’ started strokin’ mah hair. “He’s called fourteen times -- for today alone.”

“And that’s only here at the house,” Momma chimed in. “Somehow, he got a hold of my cell phone number. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard from that fool Cajun.” She didn’ even try ta hide her animosity t’ward Remy. “I told him that I didn’t know where you were and still he persisted in calling!”

“He knew you were lyin’.” Ah got up from th’ sofa an’ walked ovah ta th’ answerin’ machine. Didn’ want any o’ them lookin’ at me when Ah did this, so Ah turned mah back ta them an’ faced th’ paintin’ in front o’ me. Aftah rewindin’ all th’ messages, Ah took a deep breath an’ tried ta steady mah nerves. Suddenly, it was hard ta remember ev’rythin’ that Logan an’ Ah talked about.

Th’ next thing Ah heard was his deep voice comin’ through th’ speaker. Don’ think Ah’ve evah gone that long without hearin’ his voice before. It did some strange things ta mah insides, like melt ev’rythin’ inta sugary goop. Had ta catch mahself before Ah started tracin’ mah finger ‘round th’ machine like Ah always loved ta do ta his skin.

“Okay, chère, know ya upset, but we need t’talk. Scared de hell out o’ me when ya didn’ show at de hotel, an’ I know ya on ya way home right now. Call me when ya get dere. I need t’talk t’you.”

Beep.

”Chère, please. Ya have t’be home by now. Pick up.”

Beep.

“Now ya won’ even pick up on ya cell? Rogue, dis is gettin’ ridiculous.”

Beep. Ah fast-fo'warded a li’l through some o’ th’ messages. If Ah were ta listen ta all o’ them, Ah’d be there all night.

“All right, so ya need some time t’yaself t’t’ink before talkin’ t’me. I understand. I jus’ wan’ hear ya voice. Jus’ t’know ya okay.”

Beep.

“Ya can’ avoid me f’rever, chère. Ya gonna have t’talk t’me sometime.”

Beep. Forward.

“Mon Dieu, Rogue, where de hell are you? Talked t’Raven an’ Kurt t’day. Said dey don’ know where ya are. Ya own fam’ly doesn’ know where t’find you?! Dis isn’ funny anymore, petite.”

Beep.

“Okay, I give up. Called ev’ryone I knew t’call tryin’ t’find you. S’like ya vanished on me, belle. Goin’ out o’ m’mind worryin’ ‘bout you.”

Beep. His voice sounded small, almost defeated. Mah heart felt like it collapsed in on itself fo’ th’ pain Ah caused him.

“Talked t’Irene again t’day. She started reminiscin’ ‘bout how stubborn ya were as a child. Still are, I t’ink. Anyway, made me t’ink ‘bout all our times t’gether. Jus’ talkin’ ‘bout not’in’ an’ ev’ryt’in’. Holdin’ ya in m’arms. I miss you, mon amant. I hope you’re okay.”

Beep.

“’Member dat villa in Morocco? Ya were so beautiful, chèrie. Could hardly breathe when ya stepped t’rough dat door. Had fun dat weekend, n’est-ce pas? I know I did, lickin’ dat cream offa your -- ”

Beep. An’ we fo’ward on that. Smooth, sugah. Jus’ th’ kind o’ thing Ah want mah parents an’ mah brother ta hear, Ah thought in embarrassment. Coulda sworn Ah heard Logan chuckle.

“Je t’aime, mignonne. Come back t’me. Please.”

His voice was barely a whisper. By that time, tears were all but fallin’ down mah cheeks. Ah couldn’t take anymore. Ev’ry single worried note o’ his voice was stabbin’ me in th’ gut like a ten-inch knife. If he was hurtin’ then Ah was hurtin’. It was that simple. Ah loved Remy. Ah realized that Ah always would, no matter what happened. Whatevah occurred that night wasn’t important anymore. Genevieve be damned. That woman was not gonna come between me an’ th’ man Ah loved.

“Darling, are you all right?”

Ah sniffled a li’l but nodded. “Ah’m fine, Momma. Jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout what Ah’m gonna say ta Remy, s’all.”

Still didn’ know what Ah wanted ta say ta him when th’ phone in front o’ me rang. Ah was so shocked, all Ah could do was stare at it like Ah’d never seen a telephone before.

“It’s probably Remy again,” said Kurt from ovah mah shoulder. “It’s been more than an hour since his last call.”

Wonderful. Not only did Ah NOT know what ta say ta him, but Ah no longer had any time ta figure it out.

“Boy’s got impeccable timin’,” Ah said dryly, pickin’ up th’ receiver. Mah Lord, but Ah was nervous. Which was silly, really; it was jus’ Remy. “Hello?”

Dead silence.

Ah almost smiled in spite o’ mah nerves. Did Ah shock Remy inta silence ‘cause he was expectin’ th’ machine ta pick up ‘stead o’ me?

“Hello?” Ah could hear breathin’ on th’ othah end o’ th’ line so Ah knew someone was there. “Remy?”

There was a pause before Ah got an answer. “Afraid not.”

“Oh, Ah’m sorry. Ah was expectin’ a call from someone. May Ah help you?”

“You might.”

Th’ voice was male, but not one that Ah recognized. Prob’ly one o’ Momma’s multitude o’ contacts. “Who do you want ta speak with?”

“You.”

That took me by surprise a little. “An’ may Ah ask who this is?”

“Someone who has missed you while you have been away.”

A chill ran down mah spine. Only so many people knew Ah‘d been gone. It certainly wasn’t public knowledge. Who could have…?

“Remy? Sugah, is that you? Are ya tryin’ ta play a joke here -- ”

“I already told you. My name isn’t Remy.”

Ah tired ta swallow th’ lump in mah throat. Vaguely, Ah could hear mah fam’ly in back o’ me talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ or anothah. “All right then. What is yoah name?”

“That is of no consequence. Did you enjoy your trip to Canada?”

“H-how do ya know where Ah was?”

“I always know where you are, my love.”

Ah could feel th’ air shoot out o’ mah lungs in one big rush. Restin’ mah free hand ‘gainst th’ end table, Ah tried ta take deep breaths. “Who are you?” Ah fin’lly hissed inta th’ phone when Ah got mah breathin’ back ta what could pass fo’ normal.

He ignored mah question. ‘Stead he asked me one o’ his own. “Did you like the gifts I sent you: the necklace and the flowers? I hope they made you smile.”

Ah started shakin’ mah head. No. No! It couldn’t be… He was in police custody -- far away from me. Ah was safe. There was no way fo’ him ta get ta me.

“Why are ya doin’ this ta me?” Mah voice was risin’, gettin’ ev’rybody else’s attention. Kurt came up behind me an’ rested his hands on mah shoulders in concern. “What do ya want from me?!”

“To have you with me. I have waited for you for a long time. Soon we will be together. Very soon.”

“You sick bastard!” Ah hollered at him. “Leave me alone! Do you hear me?”

Kurt took th’ phone from mah hands. “Who is this?” he demanded but then looked at th’ receiver. “They hung up.” He knelt down ta where Ah had crumpled ta th’ floor. “Liebling, who was that?”

At first, Ah couldn’t speak. Ah jus’ flung mah arms ‘round Kurt’s neck an’ took comfort in his embrace like Ah used ta when Ah was a kid an’ had fallen off mah bike. He rubbed his hand on mah back an’ started calmin’ me down by whisperin’ soothin’ words in German inta mah ear. He eventu’lly pulled mah arms back down an’ gently made me face him. Reenie an’ Momma had come ovah ta kneel beside us, while Logan an’ Rosie stood not so far away.

“Rogue,” Kurt said gently, “who was that?”

Ah could hear mah own voice shake. “It was him. Haller.” Ah practically spat out th’ name like a bad aftertaste in mah mouth. “He musta been callin’ from th’ police station. Why can’t he jus’ leave me th’ hell alone?” Not like Ah was really expectin’ an answer ta that question.

Momma drew me away from Kurt an’ inta her arms, pretty much mimickin’ his earlier gesture o’ comfortin’ me. At least Ah was safe here, with mah fam’ly. No big, bad stalker aftah me here.

“It’s all right, baby,” Momma cooed, rockin’ me like an infant. “Everything will be all right. Haller’s in jail now. There’s no way he can get near you. We’ll see him rot in prison before that happens. Petty phone calls are just scare tactics.”

Behind us, Logan cleared his throat. Th’ relaxed expression that he had on before was now nowhere in sight. “Prisoners are given one phone call each,” he said with a grimness Ah didn' like. “Haller used his earlier ta call a lawyer.”

Ah stared at him, almost afraid ta ask. “W-what are ya sayin’, Logan?”

“That wasn’t Haller. It was someone else.”