Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (26 page)

“You can a little later,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Can I say a toast, Mr. Delacroix?” Marie-Louise asked as Jackson poured wine for the rest of us.

“Sure,” he said.

She looked thoughtful and then raised her glass. “To Mr. Delacroix! Welcome home!”

“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Delacroix to the sound of crystal glasses chiming.

The bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé went down like water. “Jackson, this wine is so good,” I said.

“Thank you, ma’am, it comes from Burgundy in central France. An interesting varietal that only comes from there; it’s actually chardonnay, but it doesn’t have the American heaviness to it. It drinks more like a fumé or even a sauvignon blanc because it lacks that buttery oakiness that Americans love so much. It’ll go well with the fish.”

“Maybe a trip to France is in order for us, Nez, once we get settled and are able to get a passport for you,” Mr. Delacroix said.

Marie-Louise chimed in, “I wouldn’t want to go. Jackson wanted to take me last year, but the idea of flying over an ocean! It’s too far, but you’re adventurous, Miss Nez.”

Thomas came to the table with a loaf of warm bread and butter. “Sir,” he addressed Mr. Delacroix, “lunch will be out momentarily. Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, Thomas. Another bottle of wine, as Miss Nez has a taste for it, and make sure the cellar is stocked sufficiently.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said and he turned to leave.

“Greg,” Jackson said as he broke a piece of bread, “remember that château in the Lot Valley we found? The one with the awesome marketplace?”

Mr. Delacroix frowned and leaned in with sharp eyes. “Jackson, let me remind you about proper salutations. I know this is an adjustment for you, but for now, we must stick to the plan.”

Marie-Louise cowered and hid behind Jackson with true fear on her face.

“Marie-Louise, don’t hide behind him,” Mr. Delacroix said, shooting his eyes toward her. “His transgressions are not yours. Now sit up.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jackson said. “I was lost in the moment remembering you, our trip. I didn’t mean disrespect. It was just a fond memory.”

I sat in silence as the group tried in vain to find its balance once more. Marie-Louise sat up but quivered like the leaves in the trees.

“Sir,” I offered, “maybe we should just relax for a bit and enjoy our lunch, lunch with old friends.”

Mr. Delacroix let out a long, purposeful sigh. “You’re absolutely right. Jackson, I’ve been short lately. Let’s just leave it. For now, I’d like for you all to get to know Nez better. She’s an excellent addition to our little clan.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said, “I’d like that.”

Mr. Delacroix leaned across the table, Jackson met him halfway, and they kissed freely and openly.

Marie-Louise made her purring noise and looked in my direction. “Ma’am,” she said, her smile enticing, “I wonder where this leaves us.”

Lunch was divine, blackened catfish that came from the farm, along with asparagus and a tossed salad. For dessert, we enjoyed a bowl of fresh strawberries and black berries that Mr. Delacroix called dewberries, topped with a light Chantilly cream. Instead of coffee, Mr. Delacroix opened a third bottle of wine. By this time, we were fully satiated, and slightly buzzed.

“I can’t believe we’re having turducken tonight after all this,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“It’s okay, sir,” Marie-Louise said, “we’ll just have to work extra hard to work it off tonight. Maybe tomorrow we can play a game outside.”

“Good idea, Marie-Louise. I think right now, though, I’d like to take Nez for a walk. She still has things to see. Your doors were closed earlier, so we didn’t see the master suite. In a little bit, we’ll meet you upstairs so you can be the ones to show her the master suite,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Jackson, I trust that’s in keeping with your afternoon?”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

Mr. Delacroix took my hand and we walked across the croquet lawn, perfectly flat and manicured like green carpet. Mr. Delacroix picked up the ball and tossed it in his hand as we walked.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

“Just thinking about playing out here when I was a kid. There used to be a swing in that oak tree and a jungle gym back over there by the children’s wing. I can’t imagine how wonderful it must have been for my parents—well, for my father, anyway—to have children playing here.”

“It seems like it would have been paradise, my lord.”

“It was. It really was. Every day was perfect, even after my mother died. This place stayed the same. It made it easier for me and my dad and Jackson to carry on.” He tossed the ball back toward the green. “I want you to know, Nez, that I asked you here because I want you here, but I also want you to be happy here, to want to be here.”

“I know, sir.”

“You see, I don’t think my mother was ever happy here. My dad rather forced the situation on her, and then with the scandal with Dad and Jackson, she never left. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She never felt comfortable going back to town to face those society bitches.”

“I know, sir.”

“Just tell me, Nez, if you don’t want to live here and we won’t, okay? I’ll stay in the city, if that’s what you want.”

“Sir, our situation is nothing like your parents’. You’ve been honest and open about the nature of your relationships. There are no secrets, and besides, things aren’t the same today. No one has to hide anything, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. As you say, we can go to town anytime we want. No one has to feel trapped.”

“Just promise me that you’ll tell me if things aren’t right.”

“Of course, my lord. You remember what I said about the demons?”

“I remember everything you say,” he said, and I believed him.

“The demons won’t win. They can’t win, not with you and me and Sunny and Ty. As long as our family is together, we’ll be fine, my lord.”

We crested another knoll overlooking a wide bayou, oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The cypress trees were large, but not as large as the oaks. The sun was lowering to our left, casting a misty silvery hue. Insects buzzed in the warm sunlight. We veered right toward a tall oak tree that stood on a hill of gravestones near a small chapel.

“My dad never wanted to be put in a crypt. He always said he’d be buried in the ground with his ancestors.”

Dozens of graves dotted the ground surrounding the oak, telling the story of the Delacroix family all the way back to Monique and Jean-Pierre.

“Here’s my dad,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Jackson will be buried right here,” he pointed to the ground next to his father’s grave, “and we’re standing on my spot. There’s a spot for my wife, too, next to me, where you’re standing.”

I shivered at the thought.

“When Jackson collared me, we stood under the oak just he and I, knowing we had to honor my father that way. He and Dad were the loves of each other’s lives, but they lived in the wrong time and couldn’t be free with it. They lived a lie that caused so many to suffer.”

“Sir, how did he die?”

“Quickly, in a car accident, on his way back from the city. He was racing down the interstate and they think he had a blowout. His car flipped a couple of times and he was thrown from the car. He died at the scene.”

“Oh, my lord, I am so sorry.”

“It took me a long time to get over the fact that he was hurrying to get back to me. I blamed myself for a long time.” He gazed at his father’s grave. “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson has ever fully recovered. He’s never been truly happy since. He just sort of dropped out of everything. He just dove into work and collared me when I was ready, and then when I went away to school, he collared Marie-Louise.”

He shook his head. “Neither one of them can make a go of it away from here. Jackson can’t leave the memory of my father, and poor Marie . . .”

“So, my lord, you were nine when your dad died and Jackson collared you at fifteen?”

“Those years went fast and I don’t recall them very well. Jackson was good to me. He kept the business going and he was a good father figure. My dad was adamant that I not live with my mother’s family, and he made sure of it in his will. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had, but I’m happy now. I’m glad I didn’t go.”

“My lord, if I may be selfish for a moment?”

He nodded for me to proceed.

“I’m glad you didn’t go too,” I smiled. “Thank you, sir, for being who you are.”

“You’re welcome, Nez,” he said as he took my hand and walked with me toward the bayou. “It’s peaceful out here, nothing like the square, is it?”

“It’s a different world, sir.”

We walked closer to the white ibis, motionless at the edge of the water, and remarkably, they remained as still as white alabaster stone against the deep greens of the marsh as we approached.

“My lord, I hope you still don’t blame yourself for your father’s accident.”

He sighed and looked out at the bayou. “I don’t, but it took a long time. I called him at work that day and told him I’d finally finished my model airplane. The last thing Dad said to me was, ‘Son, I’m taking the afternoon off so we can finally fly that thing.’ And he never got here.”

“You were young, sir,” I said.

“I never flew the model. It’s still in the children’s wing. I almost destroyed it, but Jackson stopped me because he said there’d come a day when I’d want to fly it.”

“There will be,” I said. We walked a few feet in silence.

“You know, Nez, if you choose to raise children with me, our children will be well educated. No expense spared. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering if I could possibly manage it.

“We’ll take our time, no need to rush anything just now. This is only your first night.”

“Thank you, sir.”

We wandered aimlessly through the green landscape.

“Are you still worried about Marie-Louise?” he asked.

“My lord, how did Sunny put it? She’s a piece of work.”

“She is,” he said, “absolutely Jackson’s creation, his piece of work. When we were kids, I remember her being odd, but not in a bad way. She was sweet, and even when she was young, she could play the piano like crazy. She used to sneak up here and play all the time. Dad and Jackson let her come anytime she wanted. She enjoyed her lessons. Her home life was bad after her dad left, from what Jackson tells me. Apparently her stepdad was horrid.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice made the ibis alight with graceful swooshing wings.

“I think out of protection or loneliness or whatever, Jackson decided the best way to help her was to allow her to have the childhood she never had. He’s always treated her like a child, and I guess that is why she remains so in many ways. But it’s like she’s two people. You’ll see the other side of her later, and Nezzie, that other side likes a lot of pain. But don’t get scared or worried. She has safe words she can use at any time.”

“I’m nervous, my lord.”

“No need to be. I’ll be right there and you can use your safe word anytime. Our agreement expressly says that no one will be forced to do anything against their will. You have a say, my love, and I won’t put you up to anything that you’re not ready for.”

“I know, sir, but I want to please you, especially in front of Jackson and Marie-Louise,” I said. “I want them, Jackson especially, to know that I’m also ready to be here.”

“You want to be here?” His eyes crystallized and he smiled an earnest, loving smile. “I hope you know how much it pleases me to hear that. I know it’s only your first night, but things will get clearer, I promise, and I wouldn’t bring you here unless I thought you were ready.”

We turned back toward the house and I noticed the second floor atop the covered terrace where we’d had lunch.

“What are those rooms, my lord?”

“Oh, those rooms, my dear Nez, comprise the master suite. They’ll be our rooms if you decide that we should move here. We’ll see them tonight. The view from up there is extraordinary. You can see all the way into the next parish. See the small windows up above?” He pointed to the very top of the structure. “That is the Ursuline Playroom. We’ll see that, too, at some point.”

“Promise me that you won’t leave me alone, my lord.”

“You have my solemn word, my love.”

We approached the veranda surrounding the children’s wing. It looked abandoned, with the shutters closed. I tried to imagine Mr. Delacroix as a child in this place, but it was difficult.

“Can we go inside the children’s wing, sir?” I asked, hoping it would help spur my imagination.

“Yeah, come on. Let’s go through the library.”

We ducked back through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the foyer and took a right into the library. The double doors to the children’s wing opened with a pronounced moan. The room was dark except for the light coming through the cracks in the shutters. Mr. Delacroix turned on the light switch. The dusty crystal chandelier came on, partially illuminating the furnishings covered in white sheets, but the large area rug was visible, letters, numbers, farm animals, and shapes all in bold primary colors. He pulled the sheet off one piece of furniture to find an old-fashioned rocking horse that looked handmade. The horse’s mane appeared to be real horsehair.

The next sheet, once lifted, revealed a child-size table and chairs. Other sheets hid toy boxes and shelves filled with blocks, books, and sports equipment. Dust was thick in the air by the time the pile of sheets fell into the center of the room, but he had found what he was looking for: a model airplane and remote control. The wingspan was nearly as wide as Mr. Delacroix’s. When our eyes met, I finally saw the little boy.

“It’s still in one piece,” he said with a smile.

“Aren’t you glad Jackson made you keep it, sir?”

“Yeah, Nez, I sure am. Hopefully one of these days, when the time is right, I can get her to fly, but not yet.” He looked around the room. “This place is nasty. I’ll have to get Thomas on this right away. It’s just not right, being neglected like this. I suppose none of us has wanted to come in here for so long that we just kind of shut it up, denied it. Hell, Nez, I haven’t been in here since I was collared, and it doesn’t look like anyone else has either.”

I followed him as he made his way through the playroom. “What’s back here, my lord?” I asked as we passed through another set of double doors into a wide hallway.

“These rooms are for the instructors. This room over here is the nanny’s room, and here on the end, overlooking the backyard, is my room.” He spoke as if we had traveled in time.

“Check it out,” he said as he opened the door and turned on the crystal light fixture; the ceiling fan began to whirl slowly, sending dust into the air. The large room held a chest of drawers, a tallboy dresser, an armoire, and a four-poster bed with a canopy and mosquito net. Mobiles hung from the ceiling: airplanes, planets, and spaceships. The mural on the walls matched the bayou outside. Tall French doors wrapped around the room so that it opened to the north, east, and west. He ran to each door and threw open the storm shutters to let glorious sunlight through. Dust motes floated and twirled in the newly moved air.

I noticed a picture on the nightstand of him and his father set in a tarnished silver frame. His father appeared as a man not much older than Mr. Delacroix was now, wavy dark hair and proud blue eyes. I noticed his hands wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, broad, soft boxer’s hands. His smile was gleaming and so was his son’s; freckles dotted the young boy’s cheeks and his hair was a curly mess of sun-lightened auburn brown. He held a kite in his hand and looked up to his father’s eyes in love and admiration.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” was all I could say. “You look just like him.”

“That’s what Jackson says all the time. Sometimes I think Jackson wanted me to be my dad, that maybe I could fill his empty shoes. And ya know, Nez, I would have. I’d have stepped up and taken Dad’s place with Jackson. I thought that was what we were doing, that that was what would happen when I came back from school. He and I would be together forever like he and my dad should have been.” He trailed off and looked out toward the late afternoon sun.

He began to sway back and forth and held me so that I moved with him. “Of course,” he said, “having children changes everything.”

“I should think so, my lord. I mean, for good parents it does. This is something my mother never understood. If I were to ever become a mother, I’d love and cherish my children. They’d be the center of my being. Monique taught me that her devotion to her children is why this place, why you, exist. Look what she and Jean-Pierre built together. Is it not your duty and mine that we carry it forward? My love, my lord, we are nothing without family.”

“So you’d sacrifice the way we live for the sake of the children? I mean, the lifestyle we have? How, Nez? How would we do it?” In earnest ignorance he admitted, “I’ve never known anything else.”

“It would be very manageable, my lord, as we already have ground rules, such as being honest and straightforward. It’s just a matter of revising the agreement,” I pointed out.