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Authors: Robin Caroll

Bayou Judgment (18 page)

BOOK: Bayou Judgment
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TWENTY-THREE

S
pencer wiped his palms against his slacks as he smiled and nodded at the members of his congregation filing into the sanctuary. For February, it sure felt hot inside the church. He tugged at the collar cutting into his Adam's apple. Forget butterflies—nerves were sending June bugs bouncing about his gut.

The organist struck the first notes of the call to worship song, and Spencer took his place at the podium. His fingers left smear marks on the onion-paper pages of his Bible.

Lord, prepare their hearts and mine. Your will, Father, not my own.

His lips moved with the lyrics to the song, but his voice knotted before it reached his mouth. He locked gazes with the elders of the church, sitting in their regular front-left pew. Mr. Fontenot nodded and smiled. Spencer tried to smile back, but his facial muscles felt frozen.

From the front-right pew, Luc and CoCo beamed at him, but it was the woman who sat next to Luc that drew his attention. Felicia. Here to support him as he gave the most difficult sermon of his life. Her smile reached her eyes, warming him to his toes.

The past few days had been hectic, not allowing any time for the two of them to sit down and talk alone. Now that Winnie had been moved from intensive care into a regular room, she'd received a mental evaluation. They found out that Winnie suffered from bipolar disease. Had been diagnosed more than a year ago. When she was on her medication, she'd call the center and talk to Felicia. When she stopped taking her pills, she'd act on her irrational feelings. Now she was in a state hospital, where taking her medication was mandatory. Felicia had stopped wallowing in guilt and regret. The time had come to profess his love and his intentions.

But he had another confession to make first.

The last note of the song hung in the church, lingering like a bad cough after a cold. Spencer took a deep breath and gazed at Felicia.

She gave him a heartfelt smile and slight nod.

Spencer lifted his Bible and asked his congregation to join him in prayer. He asked for blessings for each member, grace and mercy for all and praised God for His guidance and love. At the “amen,” every person's gaze glued on him.

He set down the Bible, silently prayed for courage and stepped out from behind the pulpit, placing a large goblet of grape juice on the stand.

“Today, I'll be referring to 1 Kings, when Solomon had built God a temple so that He might have a perpetual dwelling place. In chapter eight, Solomon dedicated the temple, praying God would forgive each person as they brought their sacrifice into the temple for the forgiveness of sins. Now, we all know that Jesus made that sacrifice for us so God could have a perpetual dwelling place in us, made clean by the sacrifice of the cross. Then He would deal with us according to our hearts and not our deeds.

“I'm going to tell you a little story this morning about God's grace and love.” His gaze met Felicia's for but a minute, yet he could feel her encouragement. “Once there was a young man who lived with his mother and sister until he went off to college in another town.”

He straightened his stark white shirt. Every eye was focused on him. “He came home on weekends to help out around the house, do things for his mother and sister.” He paused, praying for the courage to continue. “This particular weekend, his sister had to work late at a local fast-food restaurant. The time for her to arrive home came and went. He and his mother were worried her car had broken down, so he went to look for her.”

He met Felicia's stare, saw the moisture pooling in her amazing eyes. Spencer swallowed but continued. “He arrived at her job to find the place closed down, the lights dark. Then he saw her car in the back parking lot. When he reached her vehicle, he found her dead in the backseat.”

A collective gasp rose from the members of his congregation. A couple of elderly ladies pressed their fingers against their mouths.

“During the mourning process, the police arrested the man who raped and killed this young man's sister. He and his mother prepared for the trial as best they could.” He locked his hands in front of him to stop the shakes. “The district attorney called his mother one day just before the trial date and informed her that due to an improper search warrant, they had to release the man they'd arrested.”

Several people shuffled in the pews. Discomfort draped the members like a too-thick wool blanket on a Louisiana August night.

“But this young man found the man they'd arrested. Oh, he didn't go out looking for him, but he ran into the murderer quite by accident. The freed man said a few unwise words about the young man's sister, and the man…snapped.”

Felicia lifted a handkerchief to her eyes. Spencer noticed CoCo and several other ladies doing the same thing. He had to continue.

“He attacked the killer. Tried to strangle him. Wanted to kill him. But he didn't. The police arrested him. He pled guilty and went to prison.”

Emotions clogged his throat. Lifting the goblet, he took a big sip. He set it back on the podium, then dipped his fingers into the grape juice. Over his heart, he wiped his fingers. Purple spread over the white cotton. Even the children's stares focused on him.

“He had sin staining his heart. The sin of violence. The sin of wanting to murder. The sin of not loving others as Jesus loved the church.”

He continued to dip his fingers in the goblet and smear streaks of purple across his shirt. The fabric clung to his skin, the cool dampness spreading across his chest.

“But in prison, God met the man. God put a call on his life to follow Him. The man accepted Jesus into his heart on the cold concrete floor of a twelve-by-twelve cell.”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a small packet and tore it open. “He confessed his sins to God and asked for forgiveness.”

He pulled the stain remover wet sheet free from the packet. “Now, some may say that this man in prison for a violent crime couldn't be forgiven. Couldn't be used by God. But here's the neat thing…” Spencer dabbed at the stain with the wet sheet. “See, God doesn't judge a man by his past actions. First Kings eight, verse thirty-nine says,
‘Forgive and act; deal with each man according to all he does, since you know his heart (for you alone know the hearts of all men).'

The grape juice disappeared as Spencer continued to cover the area with the wet sheet. “God saw into the man's heart. Saw that he truly was sorry for his sin and repented. God saw a heart made pure again by the blood of Jesus Christ.”

The stain gone, Spencer balled up the wet sheet and shoved it into his pocket. “God saw a man he could use.”

He gazed over his congregation and realized he'd made his point. Now it was in God's hands.

“That man was me.”

Sniffling surrounded her. Felicia glanced around. Almost all the women blotted their eyes daintily so their makeup wouldn't run. The men swallowed hard.

Spence continued his story, telling of his time in prison and the results of his first congregational confession. Members nodded as he spoke.

“I finally have learned that God forgives us the minute we ask, if we truly have repented. We don't need to punish ourselves, beat ourselves up or try for some earthly atonement.”

A couple in the back said a hearty “amen.”

Spence smiled. “I learned if He can use me, He can use anybody.” He pointed toward the church members. “He can use every one of you, every experience you've ever had—whether you think it's bad or not, for His will.”

This time, more people hollered out “amen.”

Felicia thought her heart might burst, so much love and pride filled her. But also, she felt her load had been lightened by Spence's heartfelt words. She wouldn't have to carry around guilt with her for the rest of her life. All she had to do was give it to God.

As the organist moved into a popular hymn, Felicia bowed her head and left her burdens at the foot of the throne.

TWENTY-FOUR

T
angled nerves sprang in her stomach like a bungee cord.

“You look beautiful.” CoCo carefully turned her to face the mirror. “Happy Fat Tuesday, Fels.”

Although she'd be given clearance by her doctor to put weight on her leg, Felicia took extra care with her movements. She used her cane to balance and then met her reflection in the glass. Her breath caught. “That's m-me?”

Tara laughed, full and throaty. “Who else would it be, silly?”

The two LeBlanc sisters had definitely worked wonders.

“You have such an amazing complexion,” CoCo commented as she tickled Felicia's nose with the powder brush. “I wish my skin was as fair.”

“Stay out of the sun,” Tara retorted.

CoCo stuck her tongue out at her little sister and fiddled with Felicia's hair. How'd they gotten all the Mardi Gras beads to stay put in her baby-fine hair, Felicia would never know.

“Being in that airboat all day long is turning your skin to leather,” Tara continued. “You're gonna look like tanned hide at your wedding.”

Felicia smiled, enjoying their banter.

“Oh, put a lid on it.” CoCo helped Felicia move from behind the vanity. “Let's get you into the dress. I can't wait to see it on.”

“Tara, I can't thank you enough for letting me borrow it on such short notice.”

The youngest LeBlanc waved away Felicia's gratitude. “I wasn't wearing it, anyway.” She spun around in the room, her skirt filling as she moved. “I still can't believe I found this one on sale. It's perfect.”

Felicia couldn't argue. The gold lamé clung to Tara's body before dipping into a full floor-length hem from the waist. “You are a vision, Tara LeBlanc.”

Tara giggled and grabbed the dress from the hanger on the back of the bathroom door. “Let's see how this one looks on you.”

The sisters gathered the full skirt and helped Felicia step inside. CoCo drew it up and secured the back. It felt as if it'd been made for Felicia. She faced the women. “How do I look?”

“Oh, my.” CoCo pressed her hand to her chest.

“What?” Felicia's heart thudded. Did it not fit? Did it look bad on her slight frame?

“You're a knockout,” Tara proclaimed and moved from in front of the mirror.

Felicia couldn't breathe. The purple sequin sash draped over one shoulder, swathed to the waist. The other shoulder remained bare. Green seed pearls decorated the bodice to meet a dropped waist, then the taffeta material flowed down to a straight skirt.

“I can't believe that's me.”

“Oh, you'd better believe it,” Tara announced.

“Wait until your mother sees you. She'll be delighted at how stunning you are.” CoCo adjusted the shoulder strap.

Felicia smiled at her friend. “I don't know how you managed to get your grandmother to pick her up for the ball, but I'm very appreciative. She'd have been hovering, and I couldn't have enjoyed my time with y'all.”

CoCo squeezed her in a quick hug. “I just asked Grandmère to occupy Hattie while we got ready here. Simple.” She smiled at Felicia in the mirror. “And look how scrumptious you are.”

“Spence is gonna have his world rocked tonight, baby!”

“Tara, don't be crass,” CoCo chastised.

“Well, he is.”

A knock sounded on Felicia's bedroom door. “Ladies?”

“Just a minute,” CoCo answered Luc. She grabbed her mask and affixed it over her face. Her purple satin evening gown swished as she crossed the room and opened the door.

Luc's eyes darkened with love as he stared at his bride-to-be. “Aren't you a vision of loveliness?” He planted a kiss on her temple. “I'm scared I'll muss you.”

“She needs to be mussed. Anyone who has curls like that deserves being mussed up.” Tara practically floated to the door. “For those of us with straight hair, it's poetic justice.”

Luc laughed. “But you're looking quite beautiful as well, Tara. I'll be the envy of every man at the ball with you two beautiful ladies on my arm.”

“One man will give you a run for your money in the envy-meter department.” CoCo tilted her head.

“Yeah? Who?”

“Spencer Bertrand.” Tara swooshed out of the way so Luc could see Felicia.

His mouth hung open. “Oh,
Boo…
you're so beautiful.”

Heat fanned Felicia's face as she smiled. “You're my brother. Of course, you're supposed to think that.”

Luc shook his head, mouth still gaping. “It's the truth. Good thing your heart's already gone, or I'd have to carry a stick to beat off all the young men tonight.”

Felicia giggled. “How you do go on.”

CoCo nudged her fiancé. “Close your mouth—you're gonna catch flies.”

A knock sounded at the front door.

“I'll get that.” Luc strode down the hall of the LeBlanc home.

“That'll be Spence.” The bungee cord in Felicia's stomach sprang loose. Why was she so nervous?

CoCo laid a hand on Felicia's bare shoulder. “Don't be nervous. You're beautiful, you're going out with the man you love and you'll have a wonderful time.” She helped Felicia with her mask, straightening the purple and green feathers.

Felicia gave a curt nod. CoCo squeezed her shoulder again before leaving the room.

After straightening her own mask, Tara faced Felicia. “Look, I've seen the goofy look of love on both Luc's and Jackson's faces when they were with my sisters. Spence has the identical expression when he looks at you.”

Words wouldn't form.

“He loves you, just like you love him. Stop worrying.”

“I'm not so sure.”

Tara cocked her eyebrow and hip. “Trust me. I know these things. Spencer Bertrand is as in love with you as Luc is with CoCo.”

“Felicia?” CoCo yelled from the living room.

“Guess it's time, yes?” Felicia grabbed her cane.

“Knock his socks off, girl.”

Oh, my, I'm a goner.

Spencer's heart twisted into a pretzel. Felicia glided into the room, looking so serene and beautiful, as if she belonged atop a wedding cake. His knees turned to mush.

Head down but an inch, she gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “Good evening, Spence. Happy Fat Tuesday.”

This woman before him…this dream of purity and hope, left him speechless. He fought to form words, but cotton had taken up residence in the back of his throat.

Luc's laughter, followed by a hand clap on his shoulder, broke the moment. “Steals your breath, huh?”

Like some little boy with a crush, Spencer couldn't take his eyes off of Felicia. He nodded, not trusting himself to try to speak.

Then she smiled at him.

His world tilted on its axis. “You…you're beautiful. Words don't do you justice.”

Pink decorated her cheeks just below the eye-area mask. “You look mighty dashing yourself, Pastor Bertrand.”

He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

Her gloved hand tucked inside his elbow. Using her cane, she smiled at her brother and CoCo. “See y'all there, yes?”

“We're right behind you,” Luc said.

“Tara!” CoCo yelled.

Spencer paid them no mind. All he could think about was the woman on his arm. His lady. Well, he'd sure try to make her his. Forever.

For once, the weather smiled down on Lagniappe. Stars adorned the clear sky, twinkling like glass squares on a disco ball. The full moon filled the night with light beams. Even the air felt cooler, cleaner.

He sat her in the passenger side of the truck before rushing around to slip behind the wheel. He found himself forcing to keep his focus on the road. “So, uh, what time does Luc's band play?”

“He didn't say for sure.” She fiddled with the silver handle of her cane.

“That's, uh, a beautiful dress.”

Her smile lit up the vehicle's cabin. “Thank you. Tara let me borrow it.”

“You look much better in it than Tara ever could.”

She laughed, the tinny sound causing his heart to somersault.

All too soon they parked at the community center. Ornate Mardi Gras masks hung on the double doors. Little strings of purple, green and gold lights illuminated the walkway. Spencer escorted Felicia to the door, treating her as if she was priceless.

Wasn't she?

Zydeco music squeezed into every corner of the large building. The aroma of spices from all the dishes lining the long buffet mingled together to make mouths water. Dresses swished as couples executed the Virginia reel. Every woman wore a mask—some covering their whole faces, some just between brow and cheekbone.

Spencer leaned so his mouth was at Felicia's ear. “Would you like some punch?”

She shook her head and smiled. “I'm fine now,
merci.

Several members of his congregation rushed forward to shake his hand in greeting. Other community members addressed him and Felicia both. The feeling of belonging nearly overwhelmed him. Finally.

Thank You, Father.

“Would you like to go out onto the veranda?”

Felicia nodded, flashing him her shy smile. He led her through the throng of people to the side French doors. The veranda's rails were decorated with strings of lights shaped like Mardi Gras masks. A nip hung in the air. Gentle breezes whispered sweet promises.

“Would you care to sit?” He pulled out one of the chairs draped in gold material.

“I'd really rather gaze out over the bayou, if you don't mind.” She leaned against the rail.

His heart would explode if he didn't act. No time like the present. He sure wouldn't get a more opportune moment. Even the moon complied, reflecting off the bayou and shimmering like a teardrop solitaire. He drew in a deep breath. “Felicia, there's something I need to tell you.”

She shifted ever so slightly, so that their bodies were parallel, and removed her mask. “What's wrong?”

“I'm going crazy.” He took her free hand in his.

Confusion skidded across her face.

“Because I love you,
sha.

Her big blue eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Then they filled with moisture.

His heart sputtered, and he held her hand tighter. “I love you with everything I am, every part of me. If you'll have me, I'm yours.”

Tears streaked down her face. She leaned her cane against the rail and lifted her hand to cup his face. “Oh, Spence.”

His heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. He lowered his head and kissed her. Softly, gently. He wound their joined hands between them as he kissed her with all the love in his heart.

She broke off the kiss.

Spencer froze. Did she not want his love? Maybe he shouldn't have just blurted out his feelings without having talked with her first. Doubts circled his heart like a gator after a crane.

“Do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that?” Her voice quivered. “How I've prayed you'd say those words to me? But never in my dreams was it put as poetically as you just did.”

Hope flared in his chest.

“Spence, I love you with everything I am, every part of me.” She sniffed. “If you'll have me, I'm yours.”

He could almost hear his heart singing. His words, her voice…He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for another kiss.

A kiss that'd last a lifetime.

BOOK: Bayou Judgment
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