"I mean really different."
"You mean in a supernatural way?" Fidelia tilted her head, considering it. "That could be."
"You could believe that?"
"I've told you a million times. There are many things we do not know. That doesn't make them not true."
An immortal man? If Jean-Luc was one, then Louie was one, too, and they were locked in a struggle that had gone on for centuries. In spite of the heat, Heather shivered.
"Mama! Aunt Fee!" Bethany ran up to them. "Did you see me on the stage?"
"We sure did." Heather pulled her onto her lap. "You looked fabulous."
"Will you sit on the front row to watch me sing?"
"Of course." Heather adjusted the barrette in her daughter's hair. It was topped with a blue grosgrain ribbon bow to match Bethany's blue sundress.
"I'm hungry."
Heather smiled. "You're always hungry."
"I checked out the booths," Fidelia said. "We have our choice of German sausage on a stick or a hot dog."
Great. Heather grimaced. Pork or pork.
"I want a hot dog!" Bethany jumped off her mother's lap. "With lots of ketchup."
A mental picture flashed through Heather's mind as they strolled toward the hot dog booth—Bethany on stage with her blue sundress and a giant ketchup stain down the front. "Let's go easy on the ketchup."
"You should try a foot-long," Fidelia told her.
"I'm not that hungry."
"Honey, who's talking about food?" Fidelia winked.
With a snort, Heather shook her head.
"You should try one with some nice French buns."
Heather laughed. "Yeah, I've been carb-free for too long."
"Look! A Care Bear!" Bethany pointed at a huge yellow bear on display at a game booth. "Can I have that one?"
"I can try." Heather pulled a wad of dollar bills from her jeans pocket. She purchased five balls for five dollars. Four times she managed to hit the stack of milk bottles, but they never fell.
"It's rigged," Fidelia muttered.
"I realize that." Heather sighed. "At least it's for a good cause." Another five dollars later, the milk bottles were still standing. The man handed her a tiny, green bear.
"I'm afraid that's all we get." Heather gave the bear to her daughter.
"That's okay. He's a baby." Bethany cradled it in her arms as they walked away. She looked wistfully back at the huge yellow mama bear.
They ordered their hot dogs and sat on a bench under a giant oak tree. Fidelia teased Heather about settling for a six-incher, while Heather kept an eye on the crowd. There were a few white-haired men with canes, but she recognized them from church.
The sun disappeared over the horizon. The street lamps surrounding the park on three sides came on. Each booth was lit, and the gazebo sparkled with white twinkle lights. The only dark area was down by the river. It was deserted except for a few teenagers stealing kisses. Most of the townspeople were crowded around the booths, laughing and spending money.
The high school students were gathered around the dunking booth, trying in vain to get Coach Gunter wet. He goaded them, his booming voice carrying across the park.
Fidelia was still working on her foot-long hot dog, so Heather left Bethany with her to purchase some cotton candy. Unfortunately, the cotton candy vendor was right across from the dunking booth.
"Come on, you wimps!" Coach shouted at the kids. "Who's gonna dunk me?"
"We're out of money, Coach," one answered.
"You lazy bums! Get a job!" Coach yelled at them.
"Hey, Mrs. Westfield!" several students called out.
She greeted them by name.
"Mrs. W.," Coach shouted. "Come and play with me!"
Students snickered. Heather groaned inwardly and turned her back to wait in line for cotton candy.
Sometimes this town was really too small.
"I found you." The deep, softly accented voice made her heart leap.
She whirled and found Jean-Luc standing behind her.
CHAPTER 10
"Oh. You made it." Heather scolded herself silently for sounding too breathless. "I…are you hungry?"
"I already ate." He turned to Robby, who had opted for black jeans instead of a kilt. "We'll be fine."
"I'll check the perimeter then. Good evening, Mrs. Westfield." He inclined his head, then marched off.
Heather noted how Robby's T-shirt was stretched across his broad back. Definitely no weapon hidden there. "No swords?" she whispered.
"He has a dagger strapped to his calf," Jean-Luc whispered back. "And I have this." He tapped the ground with a mahogany cane. "There's a sword inside."
Heather eyed the ornate brass handle. "It looks like an antique." Was the owner one, too?
Jean-Luc surveyed the crowd. "I'm overdressed."
Heather smiled. His gray slacks were classy, and his blue dress shirt matched his eyes. "You look good to me."
"Miss?" The vendor interrupted. "It's your turn."
"Oh." She'd been too distracted to notice she was next in line. "One pink cotton candy." She glanced at Jean-Luc as she dug money out of her pocket. "Unless you want one?"
"No. Allow me." He whipped a five-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to the vendor.
"Thank you." Heather frowned as she took the stick of spun sugar. She wasn't sure she wanted him paying.
Jean-Luc waved away the change the vendor attempted to give him and smiled at her. "It's for playground equipment, non?"
"Right." She smiled back. He was being generous for the preschool. She shouldn't read more into it than that.
"Is that your friend, Heather?" Coach's voice roared.
Heather winced. "Ignore him."
Jean-Luc glanced at the coach. "Who is that man? What is that machine?"
"It's a dunking booth."
"Ah, I understand." Jean-Luc nodded. "If he does not drown, then he is a witch."
"No, he's just a creep. It's a game." A witch? That sounded medieval. Score another point for the immortal theory. Heather motioned toward the bench where her daughter and Fidelia were sitting.
"They're waiting."
"Hey, Mrs. W.," the senior quarterback greeted her.
"Hi, Tyler." She grabbed Jean-Luc's arm, but he didn't budge.
"Wow." Tyler's girlfriend looked at Jean-Luc and gave Heather a thumbs-up. "Way to go, Mrs. Westfield."
"Thank you," Heather muttered, tugging on Jean-Luc's arm. This town was way too small.
Jean-Luc leaned close. "You know all these people?"
"They're students. I'm their history teacher. And everybody knows everyone in this town."
"Heather!" Coach roared. "Where'd you find that sissified city boy?"
Jean-Luc stiffened. "Is he referring to me?"
"Ignore him," Heather begged. "I do. Constantly."
Jean-Luc studied the coach, then turned to Heather with a wary look. "Every man in this town wants you."
She laughed. "Yeah, right. The old guys from the nursing home go into cardiac arrest whenever I walk by."
His gaze drifted over her. "I can believe that."
Was he crazy? She was wearing worn-out blue jean shorts, and the afternoon heat had left her skin almost as pink as her tank top. Her hair was escaping its ponytail to curl around her forehead and neck. She was a mess, and Jean-Luc was looking at her like she was as sweet as the pink cotton candy she was holding.
"Hey, you! City boy!" Coach shouted. "I bet you can't dunk me."
Jean-Luc turned toward the booth, his eyes narrowing.
"Why don't you get some balls, huh?" Coach yelled.
The kids snickered.
"Dude, you got burned," Tyler muttered.
Jean-Luc's jaw shifted.
Heather yanked on his arm. "Let's go."
"He has insulted my honor," Jean-Luc announced. "I should challenge him to a duel."
"What?" Heather wondered if he was serious. Did they still duel in France? "You mean pistols at dawn?"
"I always preferred swords." Jean-Luc marched toward the dunking booth.
"Wait!" Heather followed him. "You can't be serious."
He stopped, and a corner of his mouth tilted up. "Don't worry, cherie. I no longer duel."
"Oh. Well, that's good." No longer?
"But the man has clearly challenged me, and I must defend my honor in some way."
"That's easy." Heather motioned to the stack of balls on the counter. "You just buy some balls and dunk him."
Jean-Luc glanced at the counter. "That would be simpler than killing him."
"Yes, it would." She couldn't believe she was having this conversation.
Jean-Luc smiled slowly, his eyes twinkling. Good Lord, was he just teasing her? Her cheeks grew warm.
"I shall dunk him forthwith." Jean-Luc slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter and was given two balls.
"Oh, so you finally got some balls, huh?" Coach goaded him. He pulled off his tank top and tossed it aside. "Look, Heather. I'm still dry." He flexed his arms to show off his bulging biceps.
Thwack. Jean-Luc's first ball slammed into the target, knocking it back a foot. Coach's perch gave way, dumping him into the vat of water.
The students cheered. Coach splashed and sputtered in the water. The water was only five feet deep, but for Coach's height, it was practically the deep end.