Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure (9 page)

“Besides, if I had that other kinda itch, I’d know ’zackly what to do fer it, being a traiteur and all.” For more years than Tante Lulu could count, she’d been the best folk healer hereabouts. Her pantry off the kitchen overflowed with herbs and ointments and potions that were a testament to that profession.

Charmaine straightened and grinned at her. “Who ya got in yer crosshairs now, Auntie?”

“That grandson of MaeMae’s. Justin. I’m thinkin’ I oughta be startin’ on a hope chest fer him.”

It was Tante Lulu’s practice to make hope chests for the men in her family, more so than the women. And for male friends, as well. She filled them with crocheted bedspreads and doilies and such. And of course St. Jude items.

Charmaine groaned.

“What? You think he ain’t ripe fer pluckin’?”

Grinning at her choice of words, Charmaine said, “And I suppose you have a woman in mind already.”

“’Course I do. That gal he was head over hiney in love with back when he was a young’un.”

“Emelie Gaudet? Oh, Lordy! Her father will be comin’ after you with a shotgun.”

“I ain’t afraid of that ol’ fart.”

“Old” being relative, of course. Tante Lulu was considerably
older than Claude Gaudet, the bull-headed former sheriff who’d run roughshod over some folks in the parish when he was ridin’ his police car ’round like he was lord of the roost.

“Anyways, Auntie, what makes you think there’s still a sizzle between those two?”

“Some sizzles never die out.”

“Did you read that in a book?” Charmaine grinned at her.

Tante Lulu grinned right back. “Nah. I made it up. By the way, couldja use one of them midget horses back at yer ranch?”

“Huh?”

People were always accusing Tante Lulu of skipping from one subject to another like grease in a hot skillet, but really, to her, it made perfect sense to go from talking about Justin LeBlanc, to thinking about his grandmother, MaeMae, then remembering the small horse and all the other animals in the yard. She explained it all to Charmaine.

“Why didn’t you say so to begin with?”

“I jist did.” Lordy, some folks were thicker ’n roux.

Charmaine blinked her long lashes at her, then smiled. “Where should we start? With the matchmaking, I mean. Not the horse, though I suppose Rusty won’t mind, and the kids will love it.” She paused, “Oh, please God, you’re not planning another Cajun Village People show, are you?”

Tante Lulu was known for persuading—okay, conning—her family members into putting on outrageous, but very entertaining, events, based loosely—very loosely—on the old Village People group. Usually they happened in the middle of one of her matchmaking plans. They all complained about them, but deep down, Tante Lulu suspected that they loved to participate.

“No. No Cajun People act. Leastways not yet.” Tante Lulu pondered the possibilities, then said, “I already gave that LeBlanc boy a St. Jude statue. I’m thinkin’ Miss Gaudet might be in need of one, too. Mebbe you and me need ta take a ride into N’awleans.”

Charmaine shook her head and made some
tsk
ing noises at Tante Lulu, as if she was hopeless. Tante Lulu knew all about hopeless. Nothing was hopeless. She had it on good authority.

Oh, the webs we weave when first we practice to deceive…

E
melie arrived at Miss MaeMae’s house on Bayou Black about nine thirty. To her relief, she saw no vehicles about. Except… Good Lord! Did they still have Priscilla? Oh, the memories that car evoked!

I will not go there! I will not go there! I will see what Miss MaeMae wants, then get the hell out of Dodge. Dodge being anywhere within fifty miles of Justin LeBlanc
, Emelie told herself and wiped her mind clean. “Clean” being the key word because what she’d done in that old car was far from “clean.”

The next thing she noticed—and how could she not notice—was a virtual zoo in and around the old cottage. Belle had mentioned something about Miss MaeMae’s rescue efforts having gotten out of hand, but no one could have prepared her for this mess. It was amazing that the animal control people hadn’t stepped in, but then none of
the animals appeared to be malnourished or abused in any way. God bless people like Miss MaeMae, and her husband before he died, being willing to rescue these abandoned creatures!

Emelie should feel guilty for not offering to help Belle and the boys clear this up today, but she didn’t have the time. At least, that was the mental excuse she made.
Dodge
, she reminded herself.

She inched her way carefully up the steep back steps through the maze of barking, meowing, baaing, neighing, oinking cries for attention, and then eased around the child’s rail. Just then, she noticed Miss MaeMae standing on the other side of the open wooden screen door.

“Em-el-ie! It does my heart good ta see ya, child!”

It had been almost seventeen years since she’d last seen Justin’s grandmother, and the changes were dramatic. Not just aging, as in black hair turned to pure white, or wrinkles on a face that had been unusually smooth even when she’d been in her fifties. No, it was the short cap of curls indicative of a chemo patient, and the frailness of her tall frame. The clincher, of course, was the cannula in her nose and the portable oxygen tank on wheels at her side.

Justin must be dying inside
, she thought.
Coming home to these changes, then getting blasted with such bad news from the doctor before arriving at my shop. And I was not sympathetic to him. Not nearly enough.

The guilt that had been nagging at Emelie amped up tenfold. Yes, Miss MaeMae had turned her away when Justin left town abruptly, even rudely when Emelie had pestered her incessantly for his address. Still, Emelie had known this lady since her grandmother brought her for visits when she was a toddler. As Justin used to tease her, “I’ve seen you in diapers, babe.”

Her MawMaw Gaudet would be so ashamed of her!

Miss MaeMae pulled the cannula from her nose and set it and her oxygen tank aside. Then she opened her arms wide to welcome Emelie into her home. For some reason, Emelie began to weep against the old lady’s bony shoulders, which didn’t feel bony at all, more like the cushioning comfort of a mothering woman.

Pulling apart finally, they laughed and dabbed at their eyes with napkins imprinted with, of all things, images of St. Jude, thanks to that infamous bayou traiteur Tante Lulu, Miss MaeMae explained with a laugh.

“Come, come, sit yerself down,
chère
,” MawMaw encouraged Emelie, leading her to the kitchen. Without asking, she placed a cup of coffee in front of her with a sugar bowl and creamer.

“Don’t you need your oxygen?” Emelie asked as she took a sip. It was delicious. Black, strong, and fresh, the way she liked it.

“I already gassed up,” Miss MaeMae said with a laugh, referring to her oxygen. “I doan need it all the time. Yet.”

“Yet” being such a sad word in this context. “I’m so sorry for your… illness.”

“Thass what happens when ya get old. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Miss MaeMae shrugged. “But I’m the one who’s sorry, and thass why I asked ya ta come see me.”

Emelie tilted her head in question.

“All those years ago, when ya asked for Justin’s whereabouts… when ya wanted his address or phone number, I kept tellin’ ya that we was ordered not to give them to ya.”

“Oh, Miss MaeMae! There’s no need to rehash all that now. It’s long forgotten. I was a foolish girl harassing you folks so. Forgive me for being such a pest.”

Miss MaeMae shook her head sadly. “There is every reason, child, and I’m the one needin’ forgivin’… for lettin’ ya think Justin did the orderin’. I know I dint say that precisely, but I knew what ya were thinkin’ and I let ya.”

Emelie flinched. Of course Justin had done the ordering. He was the one who’d wanted to cut off ties with her. Yes, her father had pushed him to enlist in the Navy, but it was Justin who’d used that as an excuse to break up with her.

Wasn’t it?

“All these years, it’s been eatin’ away at me, knowin’ I cain’t go to my Maker with that on my conscience. Then, when Justin mentioned the other day that he’d been talkin’ to ya, well, I knew the time was now.”

“If Justin didn’t order…” Understanding began to seep into Emelie’s brain, along with a pain that was almost unbearable. “What did my father do?”

“The details doan matter. Jist know it weren’t Justin.”

“I need to know. What did my father do?”

Miss MaeMae inhaled sharply, then exhaled on a sigh of resignation. “Yer father came here with Mr. Thompson from the bank. The loan was overdue on my husband Rufus’s shrimp boat, and without the boat, we had no money comin’ in. ’Til the day he died, Rufus felt shamed that he’d chosen money over honesty.” Miss MaeMae raised her hands helplessly.

Again! Another of my father’s betrayals! How many more are there that I don’t know about? I forgave him for threatening Justin with statutory rape, but this… to do that to innocent folks?

Miss MaeMae reached across the table and took one of Emelie’s cold hands in hers. “Can ya forgive me?”

“Of course,” Emelie said without hesitation. “You did what anyone would. You were given no choice.”

“We had a choice,” Miss MaeMae insisted.

“A Solomon’s choice,” Emelie insisted.

“Do you still love my grandson?” Miss MaeMae asked of a sudden.

“What? Of course not. But that’s beside the point.”

“Ya gotta forgive yer father then.”

What her not loving Justin and forgiving her father had to do with each other was beyond Emelie’s understanding. “I don’t think I can.” Something occurred to her then. “Does Justin know about this?”

Miss MaeMae shook her head. “Not yet.”

“No, no! You can’t tell him. Justin doesn’t care about me after all this time,”
if he ever did
, “but it would crush him to find out how you’d been threatened. He’s under a lot of stress right now. Please don’t add to it to ease your conscience.” She took Miss MaeMae’s thin hands into hers. “Most important, don’t think for one minute that Justin won’t go after my father with fists or a gun. You don’t need to have Justin arrested at this stage.”

“Oh, dear one, how can I not tell him?”

“For him. You have to spare him.”

“You’re right. I’m being selfish, placing the burden of this secret on you, and him, to ease my conscience.”

Emelie squeezed the old lady’s bony hands gently. “No. You did the right thing in telling me. But not Justin.”

“Ya do care fer him,” Miss MaeMae concluded, not with happiness, but sadness, because she had to know as well as Emelie that things were even more hopeless than before.

Emelie stood suddenly and started for the door. “I’m sorry but I can’t stay. I’ll come back another day.”

“But ya haven’t finished yer coffee. Besides, there’s somethin’ else.”

Oh, God! How much more can I take?
Emelie turned
and saw the old lady walking slowly toward one of the bedrooms. “I’ll be right back.” When she returned, she handed Emelie a pile of letters tied together with butcher’s string. Emelie knew before she studied them what they were. All the letters she’d written to Justin during those first months after he’d left, letters she’d given to his grandparents, begging them to forward them to Justin. And she’d assumed he’d chosen not to respond.

“Now do ya see why I feel so bad? I doan wanna go to my Maker with my only grandson hatin’ me.” Tears filled Miss MaeMae’s rheumy eyes.

“Oh, sweetie, Justin could never hate you. Never! But you are not to worry. I’ll burn these when I get home. He’ll never know.”

She and Miss MaeMae exchanged sad looks. There was nothing more to be said.

Emelie staggered outside and down the steps. When she got to the driveway, she leaned against her van and bawled.

So many lies. So many misunderstandings. Choices made and paths taken that could never be reversed.

It took me years to recover from the pain seventeen years ago. How will I ever survive now?

One thing was for sure. She was not going to be singing “Happy Birthday” to her father today.

The best-laid plans of mice and tempting women…

Cage arrived back to the cottage earlier than expected, having avoided a trip to the hardware store, for the time being anyway.

When he’d gotten to Remy LeDeux’s house to borrow
his pickup truck, Remy had also lent him a wheelbarrow, rakes, shovels, a lawn mower, a weed whacker, and a leaf blower. He’d even given him some heavy-duty landscaping bags he’d bought at a surplus store and never used.

Cage was surprised to see a van parked in the driveway. A van with the E & B Designs logo on it. Belle and her sons must have come earlier than they’d planned.

But then he saw a woman leaning against the van on the other side. A woman who was crying as if her heart were breaking. Emelie? What was she doing here? And why so upset?

His adrenaline kicked in. There could be only one reason why Em would be outside his grandmother’s house, crying hysterically. Something must have happened to MawMaw.
Oh, God, please don’t let her be dead.

“Em? What’s wrong? Is it MawMaw?”

She shook her head, staring up at him with wet, leaking eyes; a red, dripping nose; and parted lips. Clutched to her chest was a packet of letters.

But he couldn’t question her about the letters… yet. She was in too fragile a state, sobbing once again, guttural words that made no sense between moans of dismay. “Again. He did it again. I didn’t know. Oh, God, I didn’t know! But I should have known.”

“Who? Who did it?” Not that he knew what “it” was, but if it made Em cry, he was going to knock out
his
lights.

“Nobody,” she cried.

Yeah, right. Nobody made her leak like a sieve.
He acted instinctively and yanked her into his arms. At first she resisted, but then she spooned into his body and buried her face in his neck. For a moment, he felt light-headed with the pure joy of holding Em again. Didn’t matter if
she came into his arms for comfort, or something else. It felt so damn good.

He rubbed his hands over her shoulders and back, relearning her shape, crooning soft words to her. “Shh. It’s okay. Just let it out, and then we’ll talk about it later. Okay, darlin’?”

She nodded into his neck and soon her sobs turned into whimpers.

Leaning back against the van and spreading his legs so she could fit into the cradle of his hips, Cage realized something in that moment. He had never stopped loving Emelie. He kissed the top of her head… she still used that lemon-scented shampoo… then he kissed her chin and the knuckles that continued to hold the packet of letters in a death grip. Pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket, he used it to wipe the tears off her face and made her blow her nose hard.

Then he framed her head with trembling fingers that combed into both sides of her hair, and he really kissed her. With all the love and yearning he’d built up over the years. Suppressed emotions exploded in him, emotions he hadn’t even known he’d been suppressing, not this late in the game anyhow. He was out of control.

Then,
Thank you God
, she was out of control, too. Somewhere along the way she’d dropped the letters to the ground and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

There was a roaring in his ears, and his mind went blank. His body zapped into sensory overload with each of her soft caresses to his neck and shoulders, with the arching of her body against his, with the opening of her mouth to his deep kisses.

At one point his palms had landed on her butt and he raised her against his erection. Sweet! Sweet agony!

Women had two surefire weapons when it came to men. Sex and tears. Cage was being assaulted by both of them, and he welcomed the attack, even if he would be bullet-ridden in the end.

At this moment, as he feasted on the woman in his arms, there were no jagged splinters of past betrayals, no dark shadows of regret, no questions of what might have been, or could be. No anger. Not even a Toby Keith cynical message of “How Do You Like Me Now?” which he had to admit he’d harbored on occasion in the past. Just the now. And now was glorious.

MawMaw was probably watching them through the kitchen window, but he didn’t care. This was the girl he loved and she was back in his arms. Nothing was going to stop him now.