Kicks for a Sinner S3 (35 page)

“Only demoted to holy martyr. Shows what you know. He’ll still look out for the kid. It’s a great name.”

“Won’t Rev be disappointed you didn’t name the baby after him?”

“You do know what his real name is, huh? He’s a man of God. He can handle the disappointment, but this play, it was a once in a career deal. Unless you want to try it again sometime, Howdy.”

“Let me heal first. As it is, they’ll be gunning for me now, expecting me to take off with the ball.”

“Yeah, we can get some great penalties if they rough you up a little. This is going to be a fantastic season. I can feel it.”

Nurse Wickersham put her head in the door. “Time’s up. Game over. Everyone, go home.”

EPILOGUE

A perfect Christmas Eve, thought Nell Billodeaux, incredibly now a mother of eight. Joe home, not on the road. The children tucked into their beds after attending the Rev’s Christmas Eve service and church social complete with a black Santa who looked suspiciously like him, a few good friends gathered around the fireplace drinking a good merlot sent by Brian Lightfoot, the CD of Mariah Coy singing
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
playing in the background. No onslaught of relatives until tomorrow.

A twelve-foot tree covered with tiny white lights, shining balls, and children’s handmade decorations sat in the corner towering over an avalanche of presents. The stockings on the fireplace hung empty because only Santa could fill those. Jude had questioned the AME Santa closely when she went to sit on his lap to receive an orange and a candy cane, making sure he would be able to get to their house tonight. Dean didn’t believe anymore, and he had told Tommy, but both kept quiet for the sake of their sisters and the babies.

Howdy and Cassie snuggled together close to the small fire even though they had to run the air conditioner to enjoy it on this warm, holy night. With all the bedrooms now filled with children, they would stay over in one of the cabins, enjoy watching Tommy and the others open their presents in the morning, then after an enormous family brunch, take Cassie’s son to celebrate with the Thomas family, Mariah, and Billy in New Orleans. Bijou’s parents, anxious to get to know Xochi better, planned to have her visit at Toledo Bend with them for a week’s stay.

“I’m pretty sure my mom and Billy are livin’ in sin,” Howdy remarked as his mother’s smoky voice moved on to
Blue Christmas.

Cassie massaged his shoulders. “Loosen up. So are we until the wedding.” Her two-carat princess cut diamond ring flashed in the firelight.

“Yeah, but I don’t think they plan to get married the week after the Super Bowl like we are. Maybe I should ask Billy his intentions.”

“Leave them alone, sweetie. Unlike us, they grew up a long time ago. A wedding on Valentine’s Day, perfect for a bunch of redheads like us.” Cassie sighed the way every bride-to-be should. Her thesis done and defended, her second degree already framed, for the time being she had nothing to do but plan her wedding and enjoy New Orleans with Howdy.

Corazon trundled in with a last tray of snacks. “If it’s okay by you, I go home now. Knox, Jr., he wants to eat again. Ay, a twelve pound baby. Who knew they came so big? Mine is a giant, not like the triplets, always hungry.”

“A lineman, that’s what Junior will be,” Joe predicted.

“Don’t you dare plan on working tomorrow. Let your cousins fetch and carry,” Nell said. “You know Nadine and Joe’s sisters will bring more food than anyone can possibly eat and clean up, too.”

Also delivered by C-section, but a week overdue, unlike Nell’s children, Corazon still carried much of her baby weight. Nell marveled that Knox, Sr. did not mind, nor did Joe ever remark about the scar that now crossed her own belly even though she’d trimmed down fast with all the children needing her attention.

She’d gone daily to the hospital to sing and read and hold the triplets even for brief moments. If Joe could, he came along to give Trinity another pep talk. The baby always made gains afterward. When he finally came home to share a room painted a soothing green with his brother and sister, they did notice he responded more to Joe’s voice and Nell’s singing than in any other way. One had to get close up to his tiny face to elicit a smile, though he produced a grand one when they did. The pediatrician suspected he had vision trouble and to date, they kept Trinity on a monitor to alert Nell and Shammy in her cottage to any problems with his breathing.

Joe never mentioned that either. He simply remarked that not everyone could play football. As if reading her thoughts, her husband said to Connor Riley whose own bald-headed, blue-eyed son slept upstairs with his brood, “You miss the game, Con?”

“Not as much as I thought I would. I enjoy doing motivational speaking and setting my own hours. I have an offer to be commentator next season if I want it. We need to talk about getting our barbecue sauce company started, Connor’s Mild and Joe Dean’s Red Hot. I’d like to have another child.”

Stevie, sitting on her husband’s lap in one of the big recliners, bopped him. “Not right away.”

“Sure, I know that.”

“We can use the sauce proceeds to build more cottages for Camp Love Letter. With Corazon and her family in one, the maids in another and Shammy in a third, we’re running out of room. In fact, I think we should add a wing onto the house just in case,” Joe Dean said.

Nell sat up abruptly from where she lounged against Joe’s shoulder and spilled her merlot down her festive red sequined top. “Why?’

“You know Madame Leleux said we’d end up with twelve children, this way, that way, all ways. Never wrong, that old
traiteur,
no. Their blankets are already in the chest.”

“Not possible. Only superstitious nonsense.”

“We’ll see. I think we should be prepared.”

The trouble with Joe, he was so often optimistically right. He said he would take care of the Cassie problem, and he did as unerringly as he threw passes. He swore the triplets would be fine, and mostly they were. Now, she could not imagine being without them.

“I’ll call an architect in January.” Nell blotted her stained top, glad to see the sequins had repelled much of the mess, and leaned against Joe once more. A future with him would always be an adventure. Time she got used to the idea and made it her New Year’s Resolution.

ABOUT AUTHOR LYNN SHURR

Once a librarian, now a writer of romance, Lynn Shurr grew up in Pennsylvania Dutch country. She attended a state college and earned a very impractical B.A. in English Literature. Her first job out of school really was working as a cashier in a burger joint. Moving from one humble job to another, she traveled to North Carolina, then Germany, then California where she buckled down and studied for an M.A. in Librarianship.

New degree in hand, she found her first reference job in the Heart of Cajun Country, Lafayette, Louisiana. For her, the old saying, “Once you’ve tasted bayou water, you will always stay here” came true. She raised three children not far from the Bayou Teche and lives there still with her astronomer husband and two big-boned, orange cats named Jake and Elwood.

When not writing, Lynn likes to paint, cheer for the New Orleans Saints and LSU Tigers, and take long road trips nearly anywhere. Her love of the bayou country, its history and customs, often shows in the background for her books.

She is the author of the Sinners sports romance series and will debut two other titles with L & L Dreamspell in 2012,
Queen of the Mardi Gras Ball
and
Mardi Gras Madness
. As everyone in Louisiana knows, Fat Tuesday is a day when anything can happen.

You may contact Lynn at www.lynnshurr.com or visit her blog—lynnshurr.blogspot.com.