A Billion Reasons Why (21 page)

“You came here to help. Bringing Luc’s name into this isn’t helping. It’s got nothing to do with Dexter.”

Eileen fluffed a pillow behind her and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I may not be helping, but I cannot say I am not going to enjoy this. Can I burn the faux romance scrapbook? Oh my gosh, when he was lecturing your mam on life insurance before you got here, I thought she was going to haul off and smack him.”

The two of them giggled.

“Stop,” Katie said. “We can’t be mean. I’m a terrible person, Eileen. Why did I agree to marry him if I don’t love him?”

“You’re always on to the next goal. So now you have your next goal. Go break Dexter’s heart. Trust me, it will be easier on him than it was on you all those years ago with Luc.”

“What happened to him, Eileen? He was so sweet.”

“That’s why you have an engagement, Katie. To find out the truth. I mean, there are annoyances one can live with and then there’s the crazy train—and any man who lets his fiancée to fly solo with Luc DeForges is on the crazy train.”

Eileen leaped out of bed in her boy shorts and camisole and bent into the downward facing dog position, then rose into the cobra. “Come on down here. Nothing like a good stretch in the morning.”

Katie closed her Bible. “I’ll stretch after breakfast.”

“I didn’t press you last night, but I want to know what that kiss with Luc meant.”

“How did you know about it anyway? Did Olivia tell you?”

“Olivia saw you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, she didn’t tell me. I saw it written on your face. Katie, he intoxicates you.”

“If you had your way, I’d never forgive Luc.”

“Forgiveness is you saying ‘Luc, it’s okay that you dumped me in front of the entire town and anyone who mattered in my life and your own. I forgive you. Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, shame on me, and I won’t be fooled again, Luc. I loved you until you reached in, grabbed my beating heart, pulled it out of my chest, kicked it across the floor, and stomped on it like a used cigarette butt. But I totally forgive you.’

“Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting, and I’ve got a memory like an elephant.” Eileen cinched her legs closer to her chest. “Do
you
have a memory? Do you remember what he did to you? It’s not enough it was the humiliation of your life, but then you have to see him splattered over every tabloid with every two-bit Hollywood actress for the next eight years of your life? I mean, there’s forgiveness and there’s stupidity.”

“Right. Stupidity. Kissing him yesterday was stupidity.” Katie spoke without conviction.

“Like you believe that.”

“I don’t. You told me to stop letting men tell me what to think. Now I’m telling you. It was closure for Luc and me.”

“The lipstick on your chin didn’t look like closure.”

“I loved Luc with all my heart. I never thought he was capable of what he did to me. Not in a million years. You could have more easily told me he would take a knife to me that night than what actually happened.”

Eileen looked out toward the window. “If it makes you feel any better, I never could have imagined it either. I thought he loved you like your Paddy loved your mam. It rocked a lot of us to the foundations. The betrayal is that much worse when you think you know a person.”

“I loved Dexter too, but it felt safer, less threatening.”

“Not the right way, you didn’t. You forget, I’ve known you since you were eight. I saw more spark with you in five minutes of you singing to Luc than in your entire relationship with Dexter. Do the right thing, Katie. Quit acting for God. And, though it kills me to say this . . .” She held her head in her hands. “If it’s Luc you love . . . marry him, Katie.”

“Mornin,’ Katie.” Rusty met her at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of coffee. “Best way to wake up is to your momma’s pretty face and a cup of her coffee.”

“Thank you,” she said. “How’d you know I was coming down?”

“This may be updated, but it’s still an old house. You learn the sounds and know who’s where. I think that’s why everyone in New Orleans thinks their house is haunted.”

Katie had wanted to dislike her stepfather, but she couldn’t help taking to his warm, down-home ways. He was unlike her father in all ways but one: he loved her mam with a sacrificial spirit and acted as though the tide came and went with her. Once again she wondered, how was it her mother could locate good men with the striking aim of a laser, while she seemed to be flopping about like a catfish out of water?

“Pokey!” She looked down to see the little dog wagging at her feet. She lifted him up to stare into the animal’s deep brown eyes, then let him snuggle into her neck.

“Eileen’s mother dropped that mutt off,” Rusty said. “I don’t like dogs anyway, and that one’s got two paws in the grave.”

“Rusty!” She cuddled the dog. “Don’t listen to him, Pokey. You’re as fiery as when you shared pizza with us in the dorm.”

“Rusty’s full of garbage,” Mam said. “He’s been feeding that thing leftover steak all morning.”

Katie looked up to see Mam standing in the arched doorway—and beside her, Dexter.

“Dex, you’re early,” Katie said as she nuzzled Pokey. “Look at my baby.” She tried to give Dex a closer look, but he waved her off.

“Don’t,” he snapped.

“Dexter, what’s the matter?”

“I came here for a purpose.”

Mam gave Dexter a scowl. “He doesn’t drink coffee or tea,” she said, as if Dexter had announced that he didn’t believe in crawfish, magnolias, or the South.

“Mam, are you cooking already? I was going to make brunch.”

“Oh, I just threw in some leftovers for quiche. It will be ready soon.”

“I’m going to have my coffee on the gallery. Let’s go enjoy the morning, Dexter.” Katie pulled him by the hand and led him to a pair of rocking chairs on the porch. Mam followed them out and stood in the doorway.

The morning was gorgeous, filled with the delights of the Garden District . . . ancient oaks, Spanish moss, and all the romanticism that made up the Old South.

“It was sweet of you to come and meet my mam,” Katie said.

He grunted. “Katie, I talked to Pastor again last night when I got back to my hotel room. We discussed our differences at length, and they’re extreme. Pastor says they can only get worse if the foundation isn’t solid. What I’m trying to say, Katherine, is that I can’t marry you in good conscience.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“You’re breaking up with my daughter?”

“Mam, let me handle this, please.”

Mam just gave her a look and went back inside.

“Katie.” Dexter rubbed his lips. “You hurt me.”

“I hurt you?” she pried, wondering if he’d found out about her illicit kiss.

“When we first started dating, you made me feel like such a big man. You complimented me on all the nice things I did for you. Every week you appreciated the flowers, and every Friday you’d thank me for the dinner. I could count on it.” He scratched at his collar. “But since coming out here, I see that you’re used to chaos in your life. Plans get changed at a moment’s notice. You’re used to a loud household.”

“Yeah, we’re Irish. Music. Yelling. Food. Otherwise, it’s not home.”

“I know that if we had children and they were allowed to run wild, I wouldn’t feel right at home. I wouldn’t feel respected.”

She nodded. “I understand. A man needs to be respected, especially in his own house.”

“And a woman needs to be loved,” he said.

“I did what I could to be lovable. I’m sorry, Dex. I wish I’d known before you made this trip out here.”

“Katherine,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her forehead. She averted her face, and his lips came to hers. He seemed annoyed. “Fairy tales end. There’s no such thing as Prince Charming. I am solid husband material, but my suggestion is you take the time to grow up a bit and think about being a Proverbs 31 woman.”

“Thank you, Dex.” She kissed his cheek. “Since you aren’t a big brunch fan, maybe you should clear out before Mam serves breakfast.” The last thing she needed was Mam tearing into him and going on about promises made when the decision was as much hers as Dexter’s. He just hadn’t known it.

She could smell Mam’s famous quiche cooking. If she didn’t usher Dex out the door quickly, a long morning would ensue. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Dexter stood and called through the open window. “Mrs. Slater, thank you for having me in your home. Katie, I’ll see you at church when you come home. I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

“Dexter, you’re not leaving,” Mam called back. “Breakfast is ready. We’re eating! Get in here. You can’t go on an empty stomach.”

Katie knew there was no room for negotiation. No one left Mam’s house hungry and lived to tell about it. She stood, and Dexter shuffled into the house behind her. She filled her lungs with the warm sent of Mam’s kitchen as Dexter pulled her chair out.

Katie set her coffee cup next to her spot at the table and, like an attentive waitress, her mother filled the mug to the brim. There were so many delicious aromas: the chicory coffee, the sausage, the warmed breads. Katie’s nose couldn’t get enough. She wondered if Eileen would be able to resist the taste of home in favor of her macrobiotic diet or whatever health quest she was pursuing that week.

“Can I get you some juice, Dexter?” Mam asked.

“That would be nice.”

“Orange, okay? I have grapefruit too.”

“Orange is great.” Dex pulled out his own chair and sat down.

Mam grimaced. “So, are we having a lovers’ spat this morning? The heat can get to a person if you’re not used to it, Dexter.”

“Mam, what are we having for breakfast?”

Her mother may not have liked Dexter, but clearly she wanted to be sure before letting a potential suitor for Katie walk out the door.

“We’re having quiche. I already told you.”

“Katie’s not herself, Mrs. Slater.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s not every day a man gets his heart broken. And your daughter is a very empathetic individual.”

“Whose heart is broken?” Mam set down the glass of orange juice and sliced into the quiche. “How big?” she asked Dexter as she gauged the size by moving the pie knife.

“Just a small one.”

Mam cut him a large piece anyway, added grits to his plate, and garnished it with a few strawberries and slices of banana.

“May I pray for the meal?” Dex bowed his head and started reciting. Everyone said “Amen” automatically before they realized there had been a prayer.

“Now,” Mom said, “whose heart is broken?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that Katie and I are probably not best suited to be romantic partners—you understand, married.”

“I think that’s very wise of you, Dexter,” Mam said.

Dexter smiled proudly, and Mam and Katie exchanged a look. If Dexter was heartbroken, she failed to see the slightest crack.

“So what do you think of this forties fixation, Dexter?” Mam asked, as she served up the quiche for the rest of them. “Leave it to someone who hasn’t lived through the war to romanticize it.”

Dex looked at her. “I don’t really see the point. It’s not the forties.”

“The point, I guess, is that it’s what Katie enjoys. She and her nana shared a love of old movies and swing music. Nana would tell stories about the USO and all the soldiers coming home on furlough. Katie romanticized the era, I suppose, but she always did have an active imagination. Failing to see her passions might be one good reason you two aren’t suited for one another.”

“I think you’re right. Yes, ma’am,” Dexter said, as he shoved a forkful of fruit into his mouth.

“Well, Mam, Dexter, it was romantic,” Katie protested. “I mean, the music carried so much emotion, the dresses were so feminine . . . and men in uniform fighting for their country . . . What can I say to that? I mean, even you can see the romance in that, Dexter. Right?”

“That depends . . . would you want me to wear my Boy Scout uniform when we got married?” he asked.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“I wasn’t expecting breakfast, coming over so early, Mrs. Slater. Thank you kindly for having it ready.”

“We’re morning people down here,” Mam told Dexter. “Except for Katie, who never did care much for mornings. Sometimes when Rusty shrimps at night he’ll sleep in but never past eight. I don’t know what you young people do to tire yourselves out so.”

Dexter took his first bite of quiche and washed it down with his entire glass of juice.

“Too hot for you?” Mam laughed.

“What’s in that?”

“Nothing but a little cayenne and Tabasco,” Mam said innocently.

Dexter’s eyes watered, and he held his cup out to Katie. She filled the glass to the brim with more orange juice. “Have some grits,” she said. “They’ll clear your palate.”

He lifted a forkful to his mouth, then opened his mouth like one of Katie’s kids at school. “Ugh, what is that?”

“It’s grits!” she said as he spit into his napkin.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Slater. It’s just the texture . . . I’m not used to the texture.”

Mam patted Dexter’s hand sweetly, as if she hadn’t added extra cayenne and Tabasco to her recipe. “I’ll get you some more fruit,” she said. “Would you like me to make you some toast?”