Snow on the Bayou

  Just then a male voice on the porch called out, “Can someone hold the door open?”

  It was Justin’s friend Darryl, and he was carrying a large cypress box inside. It had hand carving on it and painted bayou birds.

  “I had a present made fer you.” Tante Lulu beamed at Justin.

  “You made me a coffin?” Justin stood and backed up against the countertop, horrified.

  “A coffin? Fer a midget, mebbe,” Tante Lulu scoffed. Then she turned to Mary Mae and said, “Is he allus so thickheaded?”

  “He’s smarter than a hooty owl and stubborn as a cross-eyed mule,” Mary Mae said teasingly.

  “It’s your hope chest, buddy,” Darryl told Justin with a grin.

  Justin tilted his head at Tante Lulu. “Men don’t have hope chests.”

  “The men in my family do.” Tante Lulu narrowed her eyes at Justin, daring him to make a disparaging remark about the men in her family. He didn’t, luckily.

  “And I made somethin’ fer you, too,” Mary Mae told her grandson and picked up the wrapped bundle she’d laid out on a side table the night before. “It’s a hand crocheted bedspread fer you and yer bride when ya get married.”

  Darryl let out a hoot of laughter, which halted immediately when Tante Lulu elbowed him. Justin’s mouth gaped open and then he exclaimed, “MawMaw. I’m not gettin’ married.”

  “Ya will someday, and looks lak I won’t be around ta dance at yer weddin’. So…” She waved a hand at the hope chest.

  He stared at the chest kinda googly-eyed for a minute, then he turned to her and said, “Thank you, MawMaw. And thank you, too, Tante Lulu. It was a super gesture.”

  Mary Mae suspected Justin was being sarcastic, but luckily Tante Lulu didn’t take offense.

  “Listen, buddy,” Darryl told Justin, “I gotta head off to work. JAM already left. Once the ladies are on their way, you might want to call Slick’s cell phone. K-4 and F.U. are here, too. Magnusson stayed behind so that F.U. could come with K-4 because of F.U.’s, you know, expertise.”

  Mary Mae had no idea who or what Darryl was talking about. Nor did she understand why Darryl and Jacob—that was JAM’s real name—would be getting jobs here when they were in the Navy. It was all so confusing.

  Tante Lulu pulled a big plastic container out of her suitcase-size purse and put it on the table, motioning for Justin to sit back down. It was beignets. “Ta go with yer coffee,” she explained to both Mary Mae and a still-stunned Justin.

  “Thass good,” Mary Mae said. “I dint have time ta start breakfast.”

  “Is that yer daddy’s guitar I see propped over there?” Tante Lulu asked Justin.

  At first, Mary Mae was fearful that Justin might snarl out some rude remark to Tante Lulu. For more years than she could remember, he’d refused to talk about his father. Until yesterday. But, thank the Lord, all he said was, “Yes. MawMaw had it in the attic.”

  “He usta sing at the Swamp Tavern a long time ago. Didja know that?”

  The Swamp Tavern, or Swampy’s, was a popular juke joint down on the bayou, though they didn’t call them juke joints today. Tavern sounded classier, Mary Mae supposed.

  “Actually, I didn’t know that,” Justin said politely, bless his heart.

  “I remember. It was when the tavern first opened, and Beau was so excited ta be paid fer what he loved,” Mary Mae mused. “Dint pay worth beans, but Beau got a chance ta sing his songs.”

  “Ya oughta go over ta Swampy’s and look around sometime,” Tante Lulu advised. “As I recall, there’s some old black-and-white picture of the early days, hanging in the office. Remember that fringed cowboy shirt he usta wear, MaeMae?”

  “I do.” Mary Mae’s eyes welled with tears just thinking about that shirt that he had saved for weeks to buy from the Sears Catalog. She used to wash it by hand and starch it good before hanging it on the line, then ironing it. Those were the days before spray cans of starch. It hadn’t been an easy chore, but a labor of love she’d performed with pleasure every Friday until… until…

  As if sensing her dismay, Justin changed the subject. “You two aren’t plannin’ on drivin’ yourselves, are you? In Priscilla?”

  “Good heavens, no!” Mary Mae told him. “Once yer dressed, ya kin drive us ta Charmaine’s shop in Houma. Then either you kin pick us up later this afternoon, or Charmaine will drive us home.”

  Tante Lulu was at the sink, washing up their breakfast cups even before they’d finished drinking.

  “I have a bad feelin’ about this, MawMaw.”

  “Ya gotta trust mah judgment, Justin. I know enough ta stop and rest if I have trouble breathin’. And I won’t be doin’ much walkin’ anyways. Charmaine will drive us wherever we wanna go.”

  “And you’ll call me if there’s any problem at all.”

  “Of course.”

  “But all the way to N’awleans. I might be an hour away.”

  “Then I’ll just hafta lie down fer a bit when we git where we’re goin’.”

  He put a hand on each hip and narrowed his eyes at her. “And where would that be?”

  “Emelie’s,” Tante Lulu answered for her. “I made a hope chest fer her, too.”

  Emelie’s. Oh, good Lord!

  “Ain’t that jist great?” Mary Mae said to her grandson.

  “Just super!”

  Once again, she wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or serious. Didn’t matter. The wheels of her plan were in motion. Now if only St. Jude was listening!

  It was a day for visitors, some stranger than others…

  Belle was telling Emelie about some new SEALs who had just arrived in Louisiana. “When JAM stopped by with these guys, I about fell over with shock. I haven’t seen so many hunks in one place in all my life.”

  “Hunks, huh?”

  “Drop-dead gorgeous. Butts of steel. Packages you’d love to have under your Christmas tree. Well, two of the three were hunks, Slick and K-4, but the third guy, appropriately nicknamed F.U., by the way, he was not so much of a hunk.”

  “A dog?”

  “More his personality than his appearance. Do you know what he said after we were introduced? ‘The best thing about Southern belles is they like to have their bells tolled regularly.’ Talk about!”

  They were both laughing when the shop bell rang and in walked Mary Mae LeBlanc, Tante Lulu, Charmaine LeDeux-Lanier, and two other ladies struggling to carry a large chest between them.

  Emelie wasn’t dressed for company, having planned to work in the back all day. Quickly, she combed her fingers through her hair. There was nothing she could do about the fleece top and sweatpants she wore for comfort.

  “We brought ya a hope chest,” Miss MaeMae announced right off. “Tante Lulu had it made special fer you.”

  Belle choked back a laugh.

  “But I’m not getting married. I mean, I was married before, but I have no plans to remarry.” She was thoroughly confused. Was Justin behind this? No! He would never send his grandmother here, and he certainly wouldn’t be wanting to raise her hopes for marriage. Not that marriage would ever be one of her hopes again either. I’m losing my mind here.

  “Ya kin allus hope,” Tante Lulu said. “I decorated yers with angels and Justin’s with birds, but if ya prefer birds, ya kin exchange with him.”

  “You gave a hope chest to Justin?” This is not good. Not good at all.

  “She gives them to all the men in her family. Hi, I’m Sylvie LeDeux, Lucien’s wife,” a pretty, dark-haired, forty-something woman said, extending a hand in greeting.

  “And I’m Rachel LeDeux, Remy’s wife,” another dark-haired woman, late thirties or early forties, offered. “I’m a feng shui decorator. I’ve been dying to see your shop for ages. Do you mind our dropping by? This is probably a busy time for you.”

  “It is busy, but we can always take time for a break. Belle, why don’t you show the ladies around and I’ll take Miss MaeMae back to the courtyard for a cool drink?” The weather was a bit warmer
today, especially in the direct sunlight, and Justin’s grandmother looked tired.

  “That sounds wonderful,” Miss MaeMae said, and Emelie adjusted her stride to accommodate the old lady’s sickly slow walk. What was she doing, out and about like this?

  After Emelie put together a pitcher of sweet tea and glasses out on the white iron table in the courtyard, she sat down next to Miss MaeMae, whose wheezing breaths had thankfully calmed down.

  “Dontcha jist love this bluebird weather?” Miss MaeMae said, turning her face up to the sun.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Bluebird weather referred to oddly warm days during winter.

  “I’m glad we have a chance to talk in private fer a bit. I hope ya doan mind us bringin’ the hope chest. It was Tante Lulu’s idea.”

  “No, it was a kind thought. Rather misdirected, but appreciated just the same.”

  “Ya never know. What I wanted ta tell ya, though, is I stopped by yer papa’s house today.”

  Emelie straightened suddenly, almost knocking over her glass of iced tea.

  Miss MaeMae patted her hand. “Doan be frettin’ none. I jist wanted ta tell yer father that I forgive him.”

  “Oh, good Lord! What did he say to that?”

  “That he couldn’t imagine why.”

  Good ol’ dad! “I’m not surprised a bit. He’s been living in a state of denial for years.”

  “Well, he knows now. I reminded him of what he done, and he hemmed and hawed about how I should understand his point of view at the time. Dint matter, though. I made mah peace.”

  “You are a good woman, Miss MaeMae.” Emelie had tears in her eyes as she leaned over and gave the old lady a quick kiss on the cheek. “A better woman than I am, I must say.”

  “Forgiveness will come in time. Even fer you. Unfortunately, I ain’t got that much time left, so I kinda have ta rush things. No, doan go gettin’ in a dither. It’s a fact of life. All of us gotta face death sometime.”

  “Not me. Ahm gonna live forever,” Tante Lulu said, coming out onto the patio with a jaunty skip. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to slip and break a hip in those wedgie shoes. With a sigh of relief, Tante Lulu sank down into the chair opposite Emelie and said, “Yum,” when she took her first sip of the tea. “So how’s yer love life?”

  Emelie choked on her own tea. “Uh.” Did she really ask that in front of Miss MaeMae? The woman was outrageous.

  “I dint mean lovemakin’, honey. Golly gee, yer gonna sunburn from that blush. No, I meant love love,” Tante Lulu elaborated.

  Oh, well, that was different. Not! “I’m not sure I ever experienced love love.” Yes, she’d been in love with Justin when they were teenagers, but in retrospect that was probably just puppy love. Infatuation. If they’d stayed together, it would have faded away long ago. Maybe. Probably.

  “Remember when I was in love with Phillipe,” Tante Lulu said to Miss MaeMae. Then she explained to Emelie, “I was engaged ta marry Mary Mae’s brother Phillipe Prudhomme before he went off ta war. Now, that was love love.” She sighed deeply. “I thought about him day and night. And tingles, ah, that boy could make me get the tingles jist by lookin’ at me. If he winked at me, and whoo-boy, Phillipe had a good wink, or if he touched mah shoulder in passin’, or if he kissed me kinda deep and hard, or if he pinched mah butt… I was tinglin’ all over ’til I was practically screamin’ with passion. Tingles, that’s one of the big signs of love love.”

  Emelie and Miss MaeMae were both staring at Tante Lulu, slack-jawed.

  “No tingles in my life at the moment, I’m afraid,” Emelie choked out.

  “Well, not to worry, hon,” Tante Lulu said, patting Emelie on the hand. “Jist so ya doan go tryin’ ta get yer tingles from one of them vibrator thingees. Charmaine says all the ladies use ’em t’day, that they doan need no man, but seems ta me yer va-jay-jay would get all tingled out in the wrong way. Dontcha think?”

  “Uh. Yes. Sure.”

  “Tingles come when ya least expect them, girl.”

  I can’t wait.

  “Yer tingles are sure ta come soon. By the way, I brought ya another little present.”

  Oh, God! Please don’t let it be a vibrator. “Really, you’ve given me too much already.”

  But Tante Lulu was already standing, watching expectantly for something. The old lady jumped from one subject to another so quickly that Emelie’s brain raced, trying to keep up. A hope chest, love love, tingles, vibrators, and now another gift?

  “Rachel and Sylvie and Charmaine are bringing it in from the car. There they are now.”

  Carrying a big marble statue around the side through the porte cochere, the three women set it down next to her fountain, and let out a communal whoosh of relief at its weight.

  “Ain’t he cute?” Tante Lulu asked Emelie.

  “Uh,” she said.

  “Ya cain’t live within a hundred miles of Tante Lulu and not have at least one St. Jude statue,” Charmaine explained with a wink.

  Oh, so that was what it was. There was a big smudge mark over one side of the face that had distorted the image. It might have been bird poop.

  “St. Jude is the patron saint of hopeless cases,” Tante Lulu said.

  As if Emelie didn’t already know that, having been raised a Catholic! But she wasn’t about to offend the old lady. Instead, she said, “Thank you so much. How did you know I was feeling hopeless?”

  “We’s all hopeless one time or another.”

  Her visitors stayed for only an hour, having a reservation for 1 p.m. at Antoine’s. Emelie declined to join them, as did Belle, since they both had too much work to do. Plus, Belle had several in-home costume fittings later that afternoon.

  After they left, Emelie said to Belle, “That was unexpected, but kind of nice.”

  “I agree. That Tante Lulu is a piece of work, though, isn’t she?’

  “Oh my God! Those zebra stripes and red wedgies!” Emelie laughed. “I can only imagine what a character she would have been when she was young.”

  “Wild, for sure,” Belle agreed.

  “Miss MaeMae didn’t look good at all, did she?”

  Belle shook her head sadly. “I see a difference just since the cleanup party last week.”

  “Maybe it’s not the cancer. Maybe she was just overtired today.”

  “Maybe,” Belle said, but there was doubt in her voice.

  Late in the afternoon, Belle had gone out and Emelie was working on final touches to several masks when she heard the shop bell ring. Before she had a chance to get up and go wait on a customer, Justin walked back.

  “Hey, babe!” he said and gave her a smile that was as warm as a kiss. Maybe not. Because he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, and it was hot. No warm about it.

  “I’m a mess,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”

  “You look fine to me.”

  Yeah, right. If I was modeling workout apparel. Even then…

  “The fleece top would be better if you turned it inside out, assuming you’re not wearing a bra. And then the least little movement would brush over… well, you get the idea.”

  She must have been gaping because he winked at her.

  “Remember the time I put that ridged condom on inside out? We were so dumb, we thought that was the way it was supposed to be. But whoo-boy, what a ride that was!”

  Having succeeded in planting that image in her mind, he leaned back against the wide, built-in shelf that lined one wall, midway up, like a counter, ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest. He wore a Saints baseball cap, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. A designer stubble gave his face a rakish look. Even with the cap, she could see that the stubble on his head was growing in from its military cut, and it, too, was also a bit rakish.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I missed you.” There was a world of promise in those simple words. “Thought you might be lonely.”

  “Hard to be lo
nely with all the traffic through here today.” She glanced pointedly at the hope chest off to one side adorned with angels gamboling along a bayou stream. It was really rather pretty.

  He laughed. “Tell me about it. I got hit with mine at seven a.m.”

  “Tante Lulu told me yours has birds. Wanna exchange birds for cupids?”

  “Nah. I’m fine. I’ve already got a crocheted bedspread in mine. How about yours?”

  “Doilies.”

  He shook his head at the uselessness of such a gift. “That Tante Lulu is a pure one hundred proof dingbat.”

  “She really does mean well, though.”

  “I s’pose so,” he conceded. “How was my grandmother?”

  She didn’t want to alarm him. “Okay. A little tired, I think, but she seemed to be enjoying herself.”

  “I should probably be offerin’ ta take her more places.”

  He probably should, while she was still able, Emelie thought, but she didn’t say that. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “Nope.”

  “A cold drink?”

  He shook his head and continued to stare at her.

  “What?”

  “Wanna fool around?”

  She laughed. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “Darlin’, do you really want me ta say what I’m thinkin’?”

  She frowned. When she realized that he was referring to a play on the word “bush,” she blushed. “You’re certainly in a good mood.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said and beckoned with both hands for her to come over to him. The intent in his mischievous eyes was clear.

  “You can’t be serious. It’s daytime.”

  “So? A little afternoon delight.”

  “Someone could walk in the shop.”

  “I locked the door and hung the CLOSED sign.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “That was kind of confident of you, wasn’t it?”

  “Wanna come over here and punish me fer bein’ so… confident?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  Jeesh! I hate when he does that eyebrow thing. It makes me all melty inside. Or am I tingling? No, definitely no tingling. “Punish? Are you into those kinds of games?”

  “I can be if you want me to.”