The Devil Has Dimples (11 page)

He finished loading the dishwasher and slammed the door
shut.  Wiping his hands on a dish towel, he grabbed the coffee pot.  “More
coffee anyone?”

Lenny stretched.  “Not for me.”

“Me neither,” stated Margie.

“I want to show you men what we’ve been up to all day.”  I
stood, as did Margie.

Grant put the coffee pot down and began to follow us down
the stairs.  Lenny tailing behind.

When I turned on the lights, everyone stood there quietly.

Grant was the first to speak.  “Lord, I need to buy a house
and fill it up.  This looks fabulous.”

“Margie did it all.”  Sara said.

Margie laughed.  “No.  Sara is being too modest, we did it
together.  Unfortunately, my muscles are letting me know I did too much.”  She
hesitated, then turned to Lenny.

“Lenny, you better put some extra money into our checking
account, because I’m going to redecorate the house.”

I watched as Margie shifted her gaze to Grant, waiting for
his reaction to her news.

Grant only smiled, as if half-hearing what was being said. 
He walked over to a dining room setting and pulling out a chair, then sat.

“I hate to eat and run, but I have to get home for a phone
call at eight.  Can you unlock the door for us?”  Lenny asked.

I retrieved the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door.

Margie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek along with a brief
hug as she left.  Lenny grabbed her by the elbow and I watched them walk arm in
arm to their car.  Whatever Grant thought about his father and Margie, they
truly loved each other.

Grant still sat at the table.

Margie had found an antique lace tablecloth to cover it.  In
the center was a huge worn wooden bowl that was used to make bread long ago. 
Inside the bowl was a pile of antique croquet balls.  Each place setting was of
a different pattern of china, not matching but settling into a cohesive whole. 
The crystal glasses caught the light of the chandelier that hung above, sending
sparkles of light around the room.  It was a great room, and something about it
drew Grant like a moth to a flame.  I wondered what.

“Lovely, isn’t it,” I said.

Grant fiddled with the silverware placed before him.  “It’s
more than lovely.  It shows what a home should be like.”

That was a confusing statement, since he grew up in a great
home.

“What do you mean?”

“Details.”  His long fingers reached over and stroked one of
the croquet balls.  “Little details.”

“Such as.”

Grant paused in his stroking of the balls.  “Well, you can
see here that nothing matches.  Yet, everything fits together.  I could live
with this room for the rest of my life and find details that please me.  It’s
like upstairs.  I love the apartment.”

Grant looked at me with a twisted smile on his face.  “Do I
make any sense?”

“I think so.”  I hesitated, my glance pursuing the room one
more time.  “When things are done with love, it shows.  And when love shows up
in something, we all want to bask in its warmth, to recapture the love, the
feeling of completeness in our lives.”  I looked at Grant.  “Is that what you
mean?”

Grant stood then walked slowly in my direction.  He took his
finger and lifted my chin, then gently captured my lips in his.  They were
warm, soft, demanding.

It was like coming home.  The warm teasing quality of his
lips on mine made me want more.  A lot more.  A whole lot more.

Sharp rapping on the front door stopped us cold.  Grant
released me as I opened my eyes and gazed deeply into his.  There was something
new there.  Something I wanted to explore.

The sharp rapping continued along with muffled words.  We
both turned to see who interrupted our moment.

Great.  T-Jack Couvillion.  That was all we needed.

I walked over and opened the door.  “Yes.”

T-Jack pushed his way in, waved his hand upward at Grant.

“Sorry to interrupt.”  He gave both of us a big knowing
smile.

Grant managed to keep his face uncommitted.  I knew that I
was beginning to grin.

“Got some great news for ya, girlie.”  T-Jack had a huge ‘I
know something you don’t know’ grin on his face.

My ears instantly perked up.  “What?”

“I figured out who your daddy is.”

Grant spoke first.  “Who?”

“Hey, boy, you should have seen it.  Sedge of course.”

Grant barked a laugh.  “Sedge.  Sedge didn’t move to Boggy
Bayou until ten years ago.  I’m the one who introduced him to Maudie, so it
can’t be Sedge.”

“You’re sure?”  T-Jack said.

I looked at Grant hopefully.

“I’m positive.”  Grant must have seen how disappointed I
was.  “But Sara and I will go and see Sedge and point-blank ask him.”

T-Jack rubbed his hands together in glee.  “Can I go with
ya?”

“No.” We said in unison.

T-Jack seemed hurt by our unified voice.  “Well, I could be
right.”

“You’re wrong.  Now I think it’s time for us to close up
shop, I have a busy day tomorrow.”  Grant replied.

T-Jack scratched his head.  “Are you sure?”

I opened the front door and motioning T-Jack to leave, “I’ll
let you know the outcome.”

That information perked him up.  “You’re a sweet one,
girlie, no wonder Grant was kissing you.”  Then he left.

I locked the door.  Too embarrassed to look at Grant, I
hustled up the stairs, leaving Grant to follow me.

* * *

August 18, 1990

I followed her today.

It was her first day at school.  I knew Edna would drive
her, so I waited patiently in my car.  Sure enough, out crept their Chrysler. 
I knew she would be turning right, so I followed her at a distance.  It
wouldn’t do to be found out.  Not now.

My camera was on the seat beside me.  Loaded.  Ready to
take her picture.

There were too many mothers dropping off their children
and walking them into the school.  I couldn’t get close enough.

I cried in frustration.  I didn’t even get a glimpse of
her.

Sara.  Sara.

How I wish it could have been me to bring you to your
first day of adventure.  I hope that you like school.  You should do well.  I
loved school and always made excellent grades.  And your father.  Smart beyond
belief.  A true scholar.  You should do well.

I waited there for what seemed like hours.

Finally you appeared outside for recess.

I could easily pick you out.  Your red hair , your
tallness, you stood like a princess amongst dwarfs.

I know I’m being unkind.  But you are everything to me,
and my occasional glimpses of you are all that I live for.  It seems I have no
purpose in life.  I sometimes wonder why I even bother.

But just knowing that you are there, gives me strength
and purpose.

I lie awake at night, looking at the stars, knowing that
you might be looking at them too.

Most times I cry.

Sometimes I think that you might disappear again.

Then I become afraid.

“I feel afraid.”

I stood nervously at Sedge Jeansonne’s door.  Grant called
him this morning and he invited us both over.  Grant reached over placing his
hand on my shoulder.  “It’ll be okay.”

My stomach wasn’t feeling okay.  “I know.  But for some
reason, I feel afraid.”

“Afraid?”

I smiled at him weakly.  Then I put my arms around him for
comfort.  “What if he is my father?  I want to know, but then again, what will
come of it?  I don’t know this minute why I’m searching for someone who won’t
automatically step forward and say, ‘Hey, I’m your father.’”

The door opened, a large bear of a man stood in front of
us.  He nodded at Grant.  Then held out his hand to me.

“Maudie’s daughter.”  His voice was soft, pleasant.

“Please come in.  I’m so happy you came to see me.”  He held
the door open and invited us inside.

I stood shock still for a moment then followed him inside,
Grant close behind me, giving me strength.

Exceeding tall, chunky, and a sweet smile with creases on
the side, Sedge was a bear all right, a honey bear.

He showed us into the living room.  It was amazingly modern,
austere to a certain degree.  No pictures on the walls, no mementoes, it looked
like someone just delivered the furniture and placed it where they thought it
should go and left.

“Can I get you something to drink?  Coffee perhaps?  I
brewed some fresh.”

“That would be fine.”  Grant answered.

I shook my head.

When Sedge left the room.  Grant grabbed my hand, raised it
to his lips and kissed my cold fingers.  “Relax.”

“I’m trying, but it’s not working.”

Grant guided me over to the sofa and we sat together.  I
leaned back for a brief moment and let out a long sigh.  I could feel the
warmth from Grant’s leg next to mine.

“Here we are.”  Sedge brought in a tray with two cups of
coffee and set it on the table in front of us.

“Black if I remember right?”  Sedge asked.

“Yes, black it is.”  Grant answered.

I waited impatiently for the social niceties to be over with.

Serge took a deep swallow of coffee, as if to bolster
himself.

“I’m not your father.”  He stated bluntly.

I could only stare.

“Maudie was a friend.  A real friend.”  He glanced down into
his cup as though he could discover something in the dark brown liquid.

“I wish I did have a daughter.  Especially with Maudie. 
But, our relationship was never on the physical side.”

I unclenched the fists in my lap.  “Do you have any idea who
might possibly be my father?”

Serge leaned forward and placed his cup on the table.  “No. 
We never talked about you.  In fact, I didn’t know there was a you.”

“No one knew.”  Grant stated.

“Did Maudie ever say anything about other men that might
give you a clue?”

Serge thought for a moment.  “Maudie was pretty friendly
with a lot of men.”

Seeing the look of distress on my face, he interjected.  “I
don’t mean she slept with them.  Maudie was straight about that, she didn’t
believe in sleeping around.  But she was someone you liked being out with, she
made everything fun, enjoyable.”

Serge shook his head, his face took on a solemn look.  “I
miss her a lot.”  He glanced around the barren room.  “She took all the
sunlight out of my life when she left.”

We just sat there.  There was nothing to say.

* * *

“He’s a nice man.”  I said as I watched the town slowly slip
by from the car window.

“When you and Margie were redoing the shop yesterday, did
you find anything?  A picture, a journal?” asked Grant.

“No.  But there is her office area.  It’s such a jumble,
maybe something is there.”

Grant gave me an anxious look.  “Search today.  I’m starting
to wonder who your father is now.”

“If I get interrupted as much as we were yesterday it might
take more than today.”

Grant glanced at me with a smile.  “More curiosity seekers?”

I gave him a wicked grin.  “We put them
all
to work. 
You didn’t think Margie and I moved all that furniture, did you?”

He laughed.  “I wondered.”

“Most didn’t last long.  Once we had them move a thing or
two, they had appointments to keep.”

Grant slapped his hand against the steering wheel,
chuckling.  “Maudie would have done the same.  Serves them right.”

He pulled up in front of the store.  “I’ll see you tonight. 
Why don’t we go to the Hole and give you a little break from cooking?”

“Sure, I’d like to talk to Naomi again.  Maybe she remembers
something from the past.”

“Naomi is part of the past, she should know everything.”

* * *

Naomi’s face lit up when we walked in the door of Hank’s. 
She met us halfway into the Hole and gestured us to sit down at a table in a
corner.

“Been waiting for you, kid.”  Her gum popped and crackled
furiously.

“Why?”

Naomi handed us menus, then glanced around the room to see
who might be listening.

She bent over slightly, whispering in my ear.  “I think I
know who your daddy is.”

Grant interjected.  “If it’s Sedge, forget it, he’s out of
the picture.”

Naomi playfully slapped him on the arm.  “Of course it isn’t
Sedge.  It’s Silas Moreau.”

Grant looked poleaxed.  “No.  It couldn’t be.”

“Sure it is, think about it.  Can’t be anyone else.”  She straightened
up, pulled her pad and pencil out of her apron.  “So what’s for dinner
tonight.”

“The Blue Plate Special, for two.”  I answered.

Naomi snapped the unopened menu out of Grant’s hands, as I
handed her mine, and walked off.

“Who’s Silas Moreau.”  I asked.

Grant turned his head and shook it.  “Bitsy’s husband, and I
don’t believe it for a minute.  They were married right out of high school.”

I frowned.  This was beginning to get complicated.  People
could get hurt.  Bitsy could get hurt.

“Not Bitsy’s husband,” I said.

Grant drummed his fingers on the table.

I was worried.  This could have ugly consequences.

“I hope that we’re the only ones that Naomi has confided
in.”

“Don’t believe it.  Naomi has the instincts of a sleazy
gossip reporter.  Once she’s convinced of something, she blurts it out.”  Grant
said.

I paused, looking at my hands in my lap.  “Do you think it
might be true?”

Grant ran his hand through his hair, leaving a piece
sticking out all unruly .

I reached over and finger combed it back into place.  As I
drew my hand away, I ran it down the side of Grant’s face.  Then slowly brought
it down, but Grant grasped it in his hand.  He brought my hand to his lips and
kissed it gently.