Daniel told them that he and Samantha would be bringing the babies home next week. With the help of Aunt Mel and a daytime nanny, they figured they could handle the boys themselves. Louise had seen the little critters at the hospital and they were adorable. She was already thinking ahead to the day when they would need their own hope chests. She might not be around that long, but she would make sure they got them anyhow, in her will, maybe.
She couldn’t wait for all the other babies to be born, too. It was a glorious time. A blessed time.
Daniel also informed them that he and Samantha would be moving to Baton Rouge in two months. After that, Aaron would be on his own here. Or not, depending on today’s events.
Finally, everyone had gone, except for Charmaine and Rusty, who were waiting for her in the driveway out front, and Aaron, of course. All the vehicles were gone, even Aaron’s truck which had been parked out near the sugarcane fields, out of view.
“So, are you ready?” she asked Aaron.
“I will be.”
“I have somethin’ fer you.”
“What?” he asked suspiciously as she reached a hand into her big carry bag. He backed up a step.
What did he think, that she was going to pull out a snake or something? Instead, she handed him a velvet box.
“What’s this?”
“Remember how I allus tol’ you boys, when you were back in Alaska, that I had a gift fer you from yer grandmother.”
Aaron nodded. “You gave Daniel a ring from Grandmother Doucet before he married Samantha.”
“And this one is from yer Great-Grandmother Chaussin, from the other side of yer fam’ly. It’s not the usual kind of engagement ring, and the stone is small, and the setting’s kinda old-fashioned, but I think it’s nice.”
Aaron opened the box to see a pale blue stone in a filigreed silver setting, maybe platinum. A few tiny diamonds circled the stone. Aaron didn’t know much about jewelry, but he liked this ring. He thought it would suit Fleur. If she would accept it.
He hugged Tante Lulu and said, through a choked voice, “I love you, you old bat. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now, go say a quick prayer ta St. Jude and get ready.”
Then Aaron was alone.
And he did pray.
Sometimes being punk’d isn’t all that bad . . .
Fleur was driving Sarie’s twenty-year-old Volvo, which was on its last legs, when it gave up the fight. At the bottom of the horseshoe-shaped driveway leading to Bayou Rose. So much for horseshoes and good luck!
At least she hadn’t broken down some distance away and at least it was a balmy day, not too hot. And at least she was dressed for the weather in the same white sundress of Charmaine’s, the one covered with bright red peonies that had been hanging in Tante Lulu’s closet, not the coral one she’d borrowed later. And at least she wore flat-heeled white sandals, no stockings, for her short trek to the house.
She would have to call a towing service. Fortunately, she should be getting some money from Tante Lulu today, in payment for her work. Otherwise, she probably couldn’t afford even the tow, let alone any repairs.
She took out the reusable grocery bag that held her wallet and the paperwork for Tante Lulu’s project, along with a bunch of wrapped gifts for the shower. Nothing expensive, of course. Just hand-painted enamel Christmas ornaments for babies that she’d found in a boutique. They could be monogrammed with a marker later with the babies’ names and birth dates. She’d already filled them in for David and Andrew LeDeux.
As she walked up the driveway toward the mansion, she noticed something strange. There were no cars. None at all.
Did I get the date wrong?
No, I’m sure Tante Lulu said Saturday. Come early at one, she’d said. The shower will be at two.
Oh, well, maybe Tante Lulu and Mel had run to the store for some last-minute necessity.
She walked through the ground-floor corridor leading past the storage rooms, the laundry, and then into the kitchen, which was spotless, and empty. That was odd. Where was all the food for a party? She peeked into the fridge and saw a platter of raw oysters on ice and some picky-type sandwiches, both covered with plastic wrap, but nothing that would do for a large gathering.
They must be having the event catered, and were forced to go pick up the food themselves for some reason, she concluded.
But why didn’t they leave a note for me?
Because I’m not that important to this party, that’s why. They would have had other things, and people, on their minds.
Then she noticed something else. No animals. Even the bird was quiet. Hmmm.
Fleur walked out the back door. All quiet. Too quiet.
Walking around the side toward the St. Jude birdfeeder shrine thingee, she stopped in her tracks.
Oh. My. God! And that was a prayer on her part.
Aaron was sitting on a bench, facing the statue. He was wearing a dark suit with a white dress shirt and a red tie. And those ridiculous cowboy boots. Which looked new. And they were red! He was sitting with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, chin propped on his fists, deep in thought, or prayer, or something.
“Aaron?” she exclaimed before she had a chance to catch herself and perhaps sidle away without his knowing she was even here. But then, she had no car for a getaway. Hard to make a quick exit when hoofing it.
He stood abruptly, almost knocking over the stone statue pedestal of the bird feeder. “Fleur! I didn’t hear your car.”
“It broke down at the end of the driveway.” She cocked her head to the side. “What’s going on, Aaron? Where is everyone?”
Aaron shifted from foot to foot.
“You look nice, Fleur,” he remarked. “Is that a new dress?”
Pfff! How like a man! This was the second time he’d seen her in this dress. But she didn’t bother to point that out. She was too busy trying not to notice how handsome he looked . . . even with red boots.
What kind of man wears red boots? she asked herself.
One who’s up to no good, she decided.
“Oh, hell! I’m not good at playing games,” he told her when she didn’t respond to his compliment. “Not this kind of game anyhow.”
“Games?” Definitely no good!
“Yeah, you’ve been punked. Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
“This was a setup.”
She wasn’t so much angry or even surprised as she was panicked by this news. “By you?”
“By everyone. Masterminded by you-know-who, but everyone in the family got involved. Butted in, actually,” he revealed, with disgust.
She didn’t want to ask what he meant by “everyone,” but she suspected that she was going to be embarrassed around a whole lot of people, most of them with the surname LeDeux.
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? So you and I could be alone.” He dropped down to one knee and took a small box out of his pocket.
“Oh no! Get up, Aaron.” She took a hold of his arm, trying to make him stand, to no avail.
He wouldn’t budge. “Hear me out, Fleur. C’mon, sit down here and just listen.”
What choice did she have? The image came to her, again, of her trotting, conspicuously, down the driveway, and along the several miles of lonesome road to the nearest gas station, where she could use her last five dollars to call a cab. She sank down to the bench.
But Aaron remained on one knee before her.
“What if I found out that you had cancer, Fleur? Do you think I would leave you?”
“I don’t have cancer, Aaron. And I’m not about to die,” she answered with exasperation.
“Precisely,” he countered, as if he’d just scored a point.
When she didn’t concede, his shoulders slumped and he went on, “Here’s a hypothetical for you. Suppose you and I were a couple—don’t interrupt—I need to get this out, my way. Suppose we were in love—a couple—and you fo
und out that I was sterile. Sit down or I’m gonna tie you down. Anyhow, suppose I was sterile from some holdover from childhood mumps, which I incidentally never had. Just sayin’. Or suppose my sterility was the result of some battle injury, like it was with Remy. Would you have dumped me because I couldn’t give you any kids?”
Fleur closed her eyes for a moment as pain struck her heart. He knew. Somehow, Aaron knew. “Of course not,” she answered, “but this is different.”
“How, Fleur? How is this different?”
“Will you get up? I can’t talk to you when you’re kneeling.”
“It’s only a one-leg drop down, not a kneel, and I’m not getting up until I get my answer.”
“What answer? To why it’s different?”
“No, to the other question. The big one.”
She blinked away the tears that burned her eyes. “Don’t do this, Aaron,” she whispered on a moan.
“Will you marry me, Fleur? Will you be my wife and share your life with me? For better or for worse, and believe me, I would be getting the better end of the bargain, please, please, say yes.”
She went down on her knees in front of him. “But—”
“No buts.” He took the ring out of the box and slid the ring on her finger. “There isn’t anything we can’t work through if we love each other enough. I’ll love you through your baby issues. You’ll love me through my issues. Have I mentioned that I snore, and I’m really stubborn sometimes, and my boots stink when I wear them without socks, and I’m inordinately attached to my twin brother, so if you take me, you get him, too, and, boy, if you think I’m a pain in the ass, you should see—”
“Yes.”
Is it as simple as that? All this grief and angst these past two weeks, and a mere mention of reversed roles, and I succumb?
“—how much he interferes in my life. To be honest, I butt into his affairs, too. But . . . yes? Did you say yes?”
She looked down at the beautiful ring on her finger, then nodded.
He said nothing.
At first, she didn’t want to look up because he would see how tears were streaming from her eyes. She felt like such a fool.
When she finally raised her head to look at him she saw why he was remaining quiet. Tears filled his eyes, too, and he was gulping to hold them back.
“Oh, Fleur, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Aaron. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Good thing you gave in because I’m pretty sure Tante Lulu was going to bring the entire gang back to serenade you with a Cajun Village People act until you agreed.”
“What?”
“Oh, I forgot to turn on the sound system. You were supposed to hear Barry Manilow bellowing over the bayou when you got out of your car. Some romantic I am! Should I go turn it on now? No? Did you notice my boots? I bought them just for you. Well, for me, to seduce you. That’s the name of the boots. Yeah, some boots have names. These are ‘Seducible You’ by Sexy Leather Goods. I’m sorry. I’m talking too much. I am just too damn happy!”
Which caused her to burst out crying, again.
And then he was kissing her tears away, looking at her in wonder, then hugging her tight, as if he wouldn’t ever let her go, then kissing and hugging her some more. Not surprisingly, they fell over onto the grassy plot.
But then, Aaron sat up abruptly and pulled her up beside him. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I can’t make love to you in front of St. Jude. It just seems perverted.”
“And perverted bothers you all of a sudden?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Aaron, perverted would be if I dressed up like a nun and did a strip tease in front of the statue.”
“Hmm,” he said with a laugh.
“Do you think St. Jude had anything to do with us getting back together?”
Aaron took her hand and was about to lead her toward the house. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I was getting pretty hopeless.”
“So was I.”
It might have been a flicker of sunlight, but it looked as if the statue winked at them.
Epilogue
It was a family affair . . .
Fleur and Aaron were married one month later at Our Lady of the Bayou Church by a visiting priest, Father Brian Malone, with a reception to follow at Bayou Rose Plantation. Everyone came. All two hundred of the invited guests! The weather cooperated with a beautiful fall day for the outdoor event, held under various tents.
Tante Lulu gave the bride away, telling one and all that she was responsible for this match. As if everyone didn’t already know that!
Daniel, the best man, had tears in his eyes as he stood at the altar next to his brother. The groomsmen were all named LeDeux: Luc, René, Remy, and John, except for Raoul “Rusty” Lanier, Charmaine’s husband. All the men wore tuxes and looked “hotter than a goat’s behind in a pepper patch,” according to Tante Lulu.
Fleur’s sister, Sara Sue, was her matron of honor, looking pretty in a rose-colored sheath gown. Many of the LeDeux men, the single ones, were giving her the eye. Fleur’s attendants were all women born or married to LeDeuxs or were former LeDeuxs: Samantha, Sylvie, Rachel, Val, Celine, and Charmaine, and all hugely pregnant in their pastel-colored maternity gowns, except for Samantha. “Like a flower garden,” Tante Lulu declared. Needless to say, the old lady had a hand in selecting the wedding attire. And the venue. And the food. And the music. The only thing she didn’t plan was the wedding night, but that was another story.
But no, that wasn’t quite correct. Tante Lulu hadn’t chosen Fleur’s gown. That had been her personal choice. From a New Orleans thrift shop, despite Aaron’s protest. It was a vintage ivory lace cocktail dress that reached all the way to her ankles where she wore matching open-toed ivory pumps. On her head was an antique veil Tante Lulu had dug up from one of her trunks. She wouldn’t tell anyone where it came from.
The flower boys were David and Andrew LeDeux in tuxedo onesies complete with tiny boutonnieres. They were being pushed up the aisle in a double stroller by their already slim-again mother, Samantha, in a bridesmaid’s gown of pale green “to match her eyes,” said her adoring husband. Samantha was the one tossing rose petals, not the boys, of course.
Mother Jacinta sent a pair of pearl rosary beads for Fleur to carry with her bouquet. The gift carried a note, “All according to God’s plan. Be happy!” One of the recently rescued girls was serving as Mother’s assistant these days and working out very nicely.
Fleur’s brother, Seaman Frank Gaudet, was able to get a liberty to attend the wedding. He was seen in close conversations with another wedding guest, Justin “Cage” LeBlanc, a Navy SEAL, who was somehow connected to the family of Tante Lulu’s long deceased fiancé Phillippe Prudhomme. Folks speculated that there might be another Navy SEAL someday in the LeDeux extended family.
A platform had been erected on the front lawn of Bayou Rose for dancing with the music provided by René LeDeux’s band, the Swamp Rats, which played a mixture of classic rock and traditional Cajun. René, playing the frottoir, or washboard instrument, was a favorite with the crowd, and he even had his little son Jude come up and sing with him at one point.
Tante Lulu preened, dressed to the nines today in pink. Lots of pink. Even her hair. Enough said! Tante Lulu’s gift to the pair was a huge—really huge—statue of St. Jude, which would eventually grace the St. Jude swimming pool/shrine at Bayou Rose. Enough said!
Daniel and Samantha would be moving soon with their family to Baton Rouge. Aaron and Fleur would stay on at Bayou Rose. No definite plans had been announced yet, but there were rumors about some sort of a retreat or haven or some such thing called “Wounded Birds” to be established in the cottages. Aunt Mel was involved in some way, and, of course, Tante Lulu.
Tante Lulu sat on a folding chair next to Tee-John, staring out at all her family and friends. So many of them! So many memories! So many good people!
“Y’know, Tee-John, if ya listen ta the news
, there’s nothin’ but bad people and evil deeds in the world. What them newsmen doan recognize is that at heart we are a world of families, whether blood kin or not, and thass the most important thing. Family.”
“Amen,” Tee-John agreed, raising his bottle of Dixie beer. “So, I guess you’ve about run out of matchmaking prospects. Time to retire the hope chests, right?”
She smacked him on the arm. “Bite yer tongue, boy. There’s lots ta take care of yet. Jist look around you. I kin name a dozen right off the bat.”
Tee-John smiled. He’d been teasing, of course.
“Even yer son Etienne.”
“What? He’s just a kid.”
Tante Lulu just shrugged.
René announced a song for the bride and groom to dance to. An old blues favorite in the South that pretty much said, “If you don’t like my peaches, stop shaking my tree.”
When Aaron took Fleur into his arms, he kissed her softly and said, “Happy?”
“Happier than I’ve ever been. Thank you.”
“Thank me later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
“I intend to.”
And she did.
And the (Southern) beat goes on . . .
Later that night, the maternity wing at the local hospital was busy with five—FIVE—women from the same family giving birth, almost all at the same time. Overseeing the whole enterprise was . . . guess who? A little old lady with pink hair passing out St. Jude statues and waving a Richard Simmons fan!
Nurses were said to have come from all the wings to get a look at the good-looking men pacing the floors and offering encouraging words to their wives. One nurse asked, “Who are they? I haven’t seen so many hot men in one place outside of a Chippendales bar.”
“They’re LeDeuxs,” another nurse replied.
“Enough said!” someone else remarked.
To everyone’s surprise, all the babies were male.
Could the South survive five more LeDeux men . . . seven, if you counted the twins born last month?
“Laissez les bon temps rouler,” as Tante Lulu always said. “Let the good times roll.”