Find Me on the Bayou: Love & Found

By Corilyn Holloway

The spark that ignites during a summer fling just might turn into the kind of love neither of them knew they were looking for... 

For as long as he can remember Austin's dad has wanted to find his biological father. He's been searching for three long years, but now he's reached the end of the line. It's time to call it quits, admit defeat and go home . . . and then he met her. 

Times have been hard at Simoneaux Bayou since the hurricane came in and swallowed things up. But the community's beginning to rebuild, and Mary's started to think maybe her home will find a little bit of normal again soon. Tourists are on the way back to Louisiana and things have been so busy she can barely stop to catch her breath . . . and then she met him. 
 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cactus Rose Press
• Release date: Aug 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386267614

Book preview

Find Me on the Bayou

Corilyn Holloway

Copyright © 2017 Olivia Hardin

Second Edition 2022 Copyright © by Corilyn Holloway (Olivia Hardin writing as)

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Chapter

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Chapter 15

16.Chapter 16

17.Chapter 17

18.Chapter 18

19.Chapter 19

20.Chapter 20

21.Chapter 21

22.Chapter 22

23.Chapter 23

24.Chapter 24

25.Chapter 25

26.Chapter 26

About Corilyn

Dear Jay,

This is silly. I’m not sure why I’m writing this because I know you’ll never see it. But I thought maybe it would clear my mind. You were right all along. We have a beautiful baby boy, Jay. He has your eyes, but my mom says my mouth.

Where are you? I wish I knew. You told me they would never let us be together, but I thought we could beat the odds. My parents were just beginning to come around. I thought maybe we were home free, but now you’re gone. You left and I haven’t heard a word from you.

Mom says I’ll have to stop watching the mailbox eventually. She says I have to focus on Pauly. Oh, I forgot to mention that. I named him Paul Alexander, just like you dreamed about. But he has my last name. I didn’t know what to do when they asked at the hospital so Dad stepped in and said Broadmore. One day he’ll want to know who you are. One day he’ll want to find his daddy. How am I ever going to explain that to him? I wonder if he’ll ever forgive me?

This is silly isn’t it? You’re gone. You’re never coming back. You never really loved me, did you? And now it’s just me and Pauly. We’ll have to figure out how to make our way in the world.

Goodbye, Jay. I hope wherever you are, whatever you’re doing that you’re happy.

Love, Julie

Chapter one

Austin

I glanced down at my bare feet, scrunching my toes up just before a wave rushed in and I sank into the muddy sand. The sea breeze was gentle, and I inhaled deeply the briny scent as I closed my eyes and tipped back my head. When I peered out over the water again a few moments later, I could see the reflection of the orange globe of the sun on the surface. The day promised to be a beautiful one.

It had been nearly dark when I’d arrived the night before, pulling up to Cabin No. 5 and finding the keys just where Luke, the owner, had told me he’d leave them. It was a cozy little place, with a single bedroom, an oversized living area with a sofa bed, and a workable kitchen. The cupboards and fridge were empty, but thank goodness, I’d found a little coffee to make myself a hot cup this morning.

Still, coffee was not breakfast, and my belly was beginning to rumble for something more substantial. I sipped at my mug, then lifted my feet one by one to dislodge them from the sand and walked a few paces along the shoreline.

About five cabins down, I could see a man in long beach shorts casting a hook far out into the water. Satisfied, he set the rod into the base stuck deep in the sand, then he made his way up the little incline to his cabin. Catching sight of me, he inclined his chin in a manly greeting. I raised a hand and waved with a nod of my head.

I supposed, since it was Sunday, most everyone had been up late the night before and was sleeping in. Except for the beating of the waves against the shore, it was mostly quiet. A flock of seagulls flew overhead, the rushing of air past their wings the only sound.

My stomach was threatening a mutiny if I didn’t get something to eat soon, so I turned back to my cabin and headed inside to get dressed.

A few minutes later, wearing something more substantial than a pair of running shorts, I hopped into my truck and backed out of the long driveway to look for provisions. According to the GPS, the closest place in Simoneaux Bayou was Betty Ruth’s Country Store, so I headed that direction.

For all that Porpoise Beach seemed deserted this morning, the little store just off Highway 82 was bustling with cars filling up the parking lot. I made a few rounds, then gave up and pulled my Jeep far off the shoulder of the highway beside the old store.

The building was long, looking more like it had at one time been several shops, but now it was all combined under a single sign that simply read Betty Ruth’s. The parking lot wasn’t paved, and recent rains had left quite a bit of mud. At the door, I was puzzled to find multiple neat rows of muck-covered shoes. I’d never known customers to be so conscientious, but I paused long enough to take off my own dirty flip flops before pulling the door and stepping inside.

I’d gone no more than a few steps when I realized just what I’d walked into.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, a man dressed in vestments spoke. There were rows of folded seats set up in the grocery section and the general store section. I felt my face heat in momentary embarrassment, then I noticed a sign to the right of the cash register.

Store closed for Mass, Sunday at 9:00.

I pinched my brows together in a frown, rubbing my empty belly a few times. After a moment’s thought, I decided attending services wasn’t an altogether bad thing. It was my experience that church-goers were friendly and open and warm, and that might be just the thing I needed. After all, I hadn’t come to Porpoise Beach in search of time off.

No, I’d come in search of a ghost. Or at least that’s what he seemed to be during all the years I’d searched for him. Every time I might find him, it would turn out to be another shadow, just a glimpse of a person who may once have been there but wasn’t anymore. And I was getting darned tired of it all.

I’d run out of leads for finding my biological grandfather a week ago in Copper Harbor, Michigan. My dad and I had started searching for his real father over three years ago, working together until he’d gotten too sick to travel. I’d been on my own for the last eight months, and it seemed the harder I tried to find James Fitzroy, the more hidden he became.

Then just as I was about to catch a plane for home, the call came. I’d met Mattie Lombardi the year before in Florida when I was searching for Fitzroy. She hadn’t been any help when I was in Orlando, but on the phone, she said she’d heard from an old friend that he was bumming on some beach in Louisiana.

And so here I was in tiny little Porpoise Beach …

… at a country store, acting as a church, with an assembly of mostly bare feet people.

But at that moment, it was one pair of feet that seemed to draw my attention away from everything else. Though I tried to keep my eyes on the priest, I couldn’t help but peer down at them. It might have been the shocking deep-red nail polish in contrast to the white skin of her toes. It could have been the way she tapped the balls of her feet up and down in rapid succession as if anxious to leave.

I leaned in close to her so that only she could hear. What time does the service generally end?

Her auburn head turned, and she cast the most exquisite green eyes my way. I was sure my heart palpitated when I saw those jade eyes.

It shouldn't be more than a few minutes now.

My forehead pinched in tight, I looked at my phone to check the time and gave a little shake to my head. A few minutes? I’ve never known a pastor to keep his sermon that short.

When she drew her pretty pink lips into her mouth to hide a smile, I wanted to laugh, but decided humor during a church service wasn’t entirely appropriate. Clearing my throat to force away the chuckle, I fixed my eyes ahead and tried to keep my attention there.

And as if she’d predicted it, within just five or so minutes, the service was over. The congregation began to shuffle down the makeshift aisle, smiling and chatting among themselves. I turned to the woman with the bright toes and smiled at her.

She grinned, tucking a hank of red hair behind her ear. So, for future reference, you’re in Louisiana, Cajun country. Almost predominantly Catholic. So, this is a mass, not a service. We’re minus a church but we’ve still got the priest.

Yes, well, I stand corrected. I'm not from here, just vacationing.

Her eyes widened in mock astonishment. You don't say ...

We both laughed, and I thought hers was a sound I'd like to hear more often.

She started towards the exit, her feet slapping softly against the hardwood floor.

What happened to the church? I asked to keep her from leaving.

But I didn’t need to worry about that because instead of walking out the door, she stepped behind the counter and flipped the sign around to read OPEN.

The hurricane took the church. But Our Lady of Lourdes will be back, she said, leaning across the counter and grabbing the outside edge. I noticed her fingers were painted the same bright red as her toes.

I slipped my hands into the back pockets of my shorts and approached her. Yeah, I heard about all the devastation from the hurricane. It’s been a long time, though. Haven’t you been able to rebuild?

She rolled her eyes, thrumming her fingers a few times. Not Katrina. Geez, when are people going to stop assuming that every freakin’ hurricane that strikes Louisiana was Katrina? Hurricane Raymond hit just last year.

Oh, my mistake. I pursed my lips and stared at her, struck again by her eyes and her hair and her ivory complexion.

Can I help you with something? she asked, dropping her head and looking at me with a coquettish expression.

Oh. I reached up a hand to rub my eyebrow, temporarily covering my embarrassed face. Yeah, sorry. I just need to get a few things.

I left her and headed into the grocery section. A few minutes later I returned, my arms laden with bread, bacon, eggs and some sandwich meat for later.

You didn’t plan ahead, did you? she asked as she checked me out.

What’s that supposed to mean?

You look hungry. So hungry you’re about to dry up and blow away, she chuckled to herself, then continued scanning items. My dad says that all the time. But if you’d planned ahead, you would have had groceries to make yourself some breakfast this morning.

I couldn’t deny that. Last night I’d been so exhausted and desperate to get to a nice comfy bed that I hadn’t been about to stop for provisions.

I got in kind of late.

Let me guess. She grinned at me. Porpoise Beach?

I smiled. Good guess.

Not really, she said after she’d bagged my groceries, It’s the only place this side of Holly Beach. And if you were staying there you would have shopped at one of their places. You want some ice too?

I didn’t need ice, but for some reason, I nodded my head like an idiot. She rang me up and I handed her a bill while she gave me the bag. After