False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [111]
Pierce felt as if his head would burst with all the thoughts bouncing off his brain. “Is good stronger than evil, Dad? Because I see evil everywhere tearing people’s lives apart.”
“Evil can only do what we give it permission to do.” Burke sighed. “Son, look at me. I’m still the same dad who’s always loved you—and your mom. My mistake and my attempt to hide it didn’t negate that. I feel sure that Zoe’s didn’t either. That girl loves you. I know you’re hurting. I just don’t want you to lose sight of that.”
Pierce put his fist to his mouth and coughed instead of letting out the sobs just below the surface. What had it cost his father to come to him and admit such a failing?
Burke patted Pierce’s knee and then stood. “I’ve got to go to work. I know I laid a lot on your heart. And I don’t want to add to your burden. My point in telling you what I did is that this can have a happy ending. It just depends on how much grace you’re willing to give Zoe.”
“You’re putting this on me? She’s the one who messed up.”
Burke nodded. “But you’re the one with the power.”
CHAPTER 36
Zoe sat at her desk in the office at Zoe B’s and wiped the tears off her cheeks. Shouldn’t she get this over with? It wasn’t going to get any easier.
She folded the Les Barbes Ledger and tucked it under her arm, then got up and left the office. She walked through the alcove and out into the dining room, where Father Sam, Hebert, and Tex sat at the table by the window.
They looked up, wide-eyed and silent, as she walked toward them and stopped at the table.
“May I sit with you?” she said.
Father Sam fumbled to grab the back of the chair. “Please do.”
Zoe sat next to the priest and across from the other two men, her hands folded on the table, her pulse racing.
A second later, Savannah was standing at the table, a white carafe in her hand. “Are we ever glad to see you!” She filled Zoe’s cup with coffee and set the carafe on the table. “What an ordeal.”
Zoe wasn’t sure how to respond. Had they all read the Ledger? Had they watched the morning news? “I-I don’t know what to say. I was shocked and horrified to find out this Cowen who came looking for me was behind Remy’s murder.”
“We were too,” Savannah said. “Sheriff’s deputies came in to talk to us, and I gave the sketch artist a description of the man who was with Cowen.”
The others shook their heads.
Zoe’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t stop thinking that it would never have happened if I hadn’t lied to that reporter, who wrote the feature story on Zoe B’s.”
“Lied?” Savannah said.
Zoe nodded, moving her gaze around the table at four pairs of questioning eyes. “Yes. There’s something I need to tell you. My parents didn’t die in a house fire. I made that up when I moved here. I’m sorry I let you think it all this time. It was just easier than getting into matters I was uncomfortable with. The truth is: I grew up in an abusive home. When I was old enough to leave, I walked away. Eventually, I changed my name from Shelby Sieger to Zoe Benoit, and then Broussard when I married Pierce. I’m not even Cajun.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us this before?” Savannah said. “Who cares if you’re not Cajun? We like you the way you are.”
Shame scalded Zoe’s face. “It’s complicated. I was starting a new life and really wanted to fit in here. I didn’t think people would support a Cajun eatery unless the owner was Cajun. I apologize for misrepresenting myself. There’s more I have to work out—most of it with Pierce—but it’s a private matter. I hope you all will respect that.”
“Of course, we will,” Father Sam said. “We’re just so happy you’re safe, Zoe. You seem to be all right. But are you?”
“I will be. It’s going to take time. Vanessa endured the worst of it.”
“What about Pierce?”
“He wasn’t hurt physically.” Zoe sighed. “But he didn’t know I lied about my past until after Cowan accosted me and demanded money. He needs some time to think. He’s staying in Houma at his parents’.”
Half a minute went by without anyone saying anything.
“Don’t feel like you have to talk about your ordeal”—Savannah kept glancing