Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure (12 page)

—Give Justin my will and explain my wishes.

A copy of the will was in the office of Tante Lulu’s nephew Lucien LeDeux, a Houma lawyer, along with some important papers, such as insurance, bankbooks, burial plots.

—Make arrangements with Father Matthew at Our Lady of the Bayou Church about last rites.

None of this waiting until the last minute for her, when she would be tied up to machines or unconscious with drugs. She wanted a priest to pray over her when she was still aware of what he was saying. Would they do that? She wasn’t sure. Betcha Tante Lulu would know.

—Ask Tante Lulu about the Church’s stand on extreme unction for the living.

—Don’t sell the house.

She shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on her grandson, but deep down, she sensed that Justin would need this place someday. A place to come back to. In fact, deep down, she wished he would stay now, but that was unrealistic, him having a job in California and all.

With all her heart, she wished she could see Justin here, with a family. A woman to love, who loved him, and children. Oh, how she would have loved to hold Justin’s baby! But that was not to be. Like so many things. “If wishes were kisses…” like Rufus used to tell her before giving her a bunch of little kisses to make up for some hurt or other.

—Care for the animals.

Well, that job was mostly done today, with the good folks spending the day building pens and runs, and a few of them even taking some of the animals home as pets. Remy’s teenaged children had taken a cat and a potbellied pig. The pig caused an argument with their father, but their father lost.

Charmaine’s husband, Rusty Lanier—
Lordy, was there ever a handsomer man in all the world!
—carried off the midget horse, and Charmaine knew a neighbor up in Northern Louisiana who raised sheep; so that annoying baaing beast was gone. For some reason, Mary Mae never could cozy up to a sheep.

Belle Pitot had a friend who might take the chickens, but Mary Mae didn’t want to give them all up… yet. There was nothing like fresh eggs, whether for breakfast or in a cake. A far cry, for sure, from those ones in the supermarket that were weeks away from having been anywhere near a laying hen’s butt.

There were two small dogs, one of which Belle’s sons begged her to adopt. She was thinking on it. And everyone kept saying that the big dog, Thaddeus, had taken a special liking to Emelie, though Emelie was resisting. Time would tell.

And speaking of liking… that Navy buddy of Justin’s—the dark one from Mexico or Spain or something—sure did like Belle. She’d heard him making a date with her. And that was another odd thing in her life that was becoming odder by the minute. He had studied to be a priest at one time, a Jesuit. Maybe he was the one she should be asking about last rites for the living. JAM, his nickname was, which struck Mary Mae as silly. Good thing he didn’t become a priest. Imagine his congregation calling him Father Jam? She giggled at the image, and realized that she hadn’t giggled for ages. Weren’t giggles wonderful little gifts from God?

Back to the animals.

Justin and his friends had taken a liking to the squawky birds here inside the house. Even if they didn’t take them across the country to their homes, apparently these noisy
feathered friends wouldn’t be hard to unload, them being expensive pets. A thousand dollars for a bird? She couldn’t imagine. Their departure wouldn’t be too soon for Mary Mae, especially since Justin, and now his friends, were teaching them naughty words.

—Finally, she needed to have a sit-down, serious talk with Justin about his daddy. There was so much her grandson didn’t know, had refused to know, but it was important before she passed that Mary Mae give him all the missing pieces, even the ones he might not like to hear.

She heard a car pull into the driveway. The slamming of a car door. The crunching of boots on crushed shells. A few animal sounds, mostly the three dogs. Then a stomping over the porch and through the screen door. It must be Justin.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her heart swelled with sheer joy.

Even before he announced, “I’m home,” she thought,
He’s home.

Some gifts cost no money…

It was good to be home.

Not just good to be back in Louisiana after all these years, but good to come back to the welcoming atmosphere of his grandmother’s house after hours spent in that dismal hospital waiting room.

But then he took in the setting. His grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table, puffing away on her oxygen with a small notebook computer in front of her. MawMaw
wouldn’t know a cursor from a curser. At least she never had before.

Then there was Geek, popping his head up, like a gopher in that old movie classic
Caddyshack
, from where he’d been lying on the sofa, in front of the television. He’d been having a little catnap, so to speak, if the cat sprawled out over his chest was any indication. Carefully Geek lifted the cat off him so its claws wouldn’t do bodily injury and stood, stretching with a wide-open yawn.

“Where is everyone?” Justin asked, coming up to give his grandmother a kiss on the cheek.

“All gone home, ’ceptin fer Darryl here, who was babysittin’ me.”

Justin glanced meaningfully at the couch; Geek just grinned. But then SEALs were trained to sleep on a dime and wake on a rustle as soft as a feather. If his grandmother had hiccoughed, he would have shot off that couch like a bullet.

“And what’s with the computer? You gonna turn inta some kinda Bill Gates or somethin’?”

“Yer friend was kind enuf ta teach me ta play Internet poker,” she explained.

Justin laughed and gave Geek a pretend scowl. “Turnin’ my sweet grandmother into a gambler?”

“Hey, she was the one who hustled me into a card game, but then she couldn’t find any cards.”

“A likely story!”

“I’m only playin’ fer nickels.”

“You really are gamblin’? Holy shit! I mean, holy crawfish!”

The two men exchanged grins at his cleaning up his language for her.

“How is Emelie’s father?” MawMaw asked.

“He’ll survive. The bad ones always do.”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk!”
she clucked her tongue. “You shouldn’t talk lak that.”

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t look one bit sorry. He knew for damn sure the old man would be bleeding his condition for all it was worth, making Em kowtow to his every wish. Just like old times. “He had a mild heart attack, but on examination they discovered a blockage that could prove fatal. So they went in and did an emergency bypass. He’s in recovery now.”

“All that in one afternoon?” she asked.

“My grandfather had a bypass and was playing golf the following week. Heart surgery isn’t the big deal it used to be,” Geek told them before walking off to the bathroom.

“But Emelie stayed at the hospital with her father?” MawMaw wondered. “I mean, she dint seem ta want to be with her father t’day, even on his birthday.”

Yeah, and that was another puzzle in a myriad of puzzles that Cage needed to solve before he left the bayou. “She stayed, along with Francine Lagasse, Claude’s girlfriend. Em isn’t too happy with her dad for some reason—hell, Claude always gives a person reason to hate his guts—but when somethin’ like this happens, I guess past grievances prove unimportant.”

“If you only knew…” he thought he heard his grandmother murmur.

“What?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “So ya think all will be forgiven?”

“I have no idea.” Justin stared, suddenly suspicious of her interest in a man no one particularly loved, except maybe Em and Francine.

“Are ya hungry?” she asked. “We got lots of leftovers.”

“Any of that red beans and rice you made on Monday?”

“Plenty,” she said with a smile. “There ain’t nothin’ does a grandmother’s heart more proud than havin’ her family like her cookin’.”

“You should be real proud, then.”

“I am,” she said, standing and patting him on the shoulder. “I am so proud of you.”

And that meant everything in the world to him. A gift, really. Too bad it had taken seventeen years of absence and his grandmother’s illness to bring him to that realization.

Baby, please stay…

Y
ou look like ten miles of bad bayou road, girl,” Belle said when she came into the shop, carrying a completed ball gown in a clear plastic E & B garment carrier. “I swear, your bags have got bags.”

“Thanks for sharing that,” Emelie said from behind the counter, where she was boxing up two new masks to be picked up by customers that morning.

She wasn’t at all offended by Belle’s comment. She knew how bad she looked. When she’d brushed her teeth this morning, she’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes and tried her best to cover them with makeup. To no avail, apparently.

It was ten days since her father’s heart attack and three weeks until Mardi Gras. The weather had turned chilly… well, chilly for Louisiana, the mid-fifties and wet. A perfect backdrop to her dreary mood.

She
had
to work every day, but she went back to the
bayou every evening, at first to the hospital in Houma and then to her father’s house on the outskirts, once he’d been discharged. If prizes were given for impossible patients, her father would be covered with blue ribbons. He didn’t want to stay in the hospital. He didn’t like being in the first-floor bedroom at home. The food was too hot, or too cold. No, he didn’t bloody damn need help going to the bathroom.
Where’s the newspaper? The pills are too big, or too small, or bitter. What would it hurt to have one cigar and one little glass of bourbon?
And forget about special diets.

She had to sing at Ella’s tonight, and boy, did her dad raise a stink about that. “I never shoulda let you take those music lessons.”

“You made me stop when I was fourteen.”

“Shoulda never started. A low-down dive is no place for a girl like you,” he’d complained.

“Ella’s is not a dive. It’s a very nice supper club.”

“I never did care for that Ella Pisano. My mother spent way too much time with her when I was growin’ up.”

Blah, blah, blah!
She’d heard it all before. Frankly, her grandfather had been a grouch, and Emelie could understand why MawMaw Gaudet would have preferred the company of her friend Ella, who led a more independent, happy life. At some point her father was going to have to accept that Emelie wasn’t a girl anymore.

Further complicating her present stress levels was the fact that her father refused at-home nursing and he needed to start physical therapy. Francine was running herself ragged trying to please him, and Emelie was burning the candle at both ends… soon to be burned out. Top that all off with the tension of having to suppress an overwhelming urge to confront her father with the news she’d
heard on his birthday of how he’d threatened Justin’s grandparents.

And then there was Justin himself. She was still attracted, maybe even still in love with him, God forbid! And she knew why he was calling. Pretty it up any way he would, the bottom line was that he wanted to get laid, and she had to nip that temptation in the bud. At some point, whether it was a month from now or twelve months from now, he would be leaving. Again. She didn’t think she could survive the pain. Again.

“Justin called me last night,” Belle said as if reading her mind. “Says he’s sick of your answering machine messages. If you won’t talk to him, he’s going to come over here and carry you out over his shoulder to a quiet place where you can… talk.” Belle grinned on relaying the message.

“So how’s your jelly buddy… JAM?” Emelie had become adept at changing the subject.

“You know what they say about Navy SEALs?”

“I have no idea what they say about Navy SEALs.”

“Great endurance.”

What did that mean? She wasn’t going to ask. No way!

Of course, Belle told her anyway. “Staying power, baby.”

Emelie rolled her eyes at her friend, knowing she was just trying to lift her mood, but instead she would be having Emelie wondering if Justin had “staying power,” too. But then Belle asked, “How’s your dad doing?”

“Medically he seems okay. But Francine needs help in caring for him, and he needs to start physical therapy, but he doesn’t want to leave the house. Same old, same old.”

“Maybe you need to do what’s best for him, regardless of what he wants.”

“That’s what Francine and I decided last night after he had a hissy fit over us wanting him to come to the kitchen to eat, instead of having a tray in his bedroom. I wonder if we couldn’t get a therapist to come to the house at first.”

“Surely there must be folks who do that,” Belle said. “After all, some people can’t get up and travel to outside facilities.”

After Belle went through to her work area, Emelie tried to decide whom to call about arranging therapy. His heart specialist? The physical therapy centers mentioned on the brochure that Francine had in a packet from the hospital? She didn’t want to burden Francine with one more thing. Wait. How about Adele Hebert? She was a physical therapist.

Before giving herself a chance to second-guess herself, Emelie called information for the hospital and put in a call. “Could I please be connected with Adele Hebert?” she asked.

“Dr. Hebert is over at the therapy center this morning,” the receptionist said.

Doctor, huh?
Emelie was about to give her name and number and ask for a call back, but the woman continued, “I’ll transfer your call.”

Within seconds, she heard, “Adele Hebert here.”

“Adele… I mean, Dr. Hebert… this is Emelie Gaudet. We talked at the hospital a week or so ago when my father had a heart attack.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. What a coincidence! Justin is here right now.”

Oh, that is just great. I’m calling Justin’s new girlfriend. How awkward is that?

“How’s your father doing?” Adele asked.

“Not so good. That’s why I’m calling. I mean, he seems
to have come through the operation fine, but he’s resisting any exercise, at all. Walking to the bathroom is the most we can get him to do.”

“That’s not unusual. Heart patients fear a recurring attack, and therefore avoid the least amount of activity, thinking it will trigger more trauma. In fact, exercise is what they need—with proper diet, of course.”

“Well, what I was wondering, and really, I shouldn’t have bothered you, is—”

“Please don’t apologize. I’m glad to help. And really, any friend of Justin’s is a friend of mine.”

I don’t think so!
“Do you know of any therapists who could come to the house initially?”

“Of course. Give me the address and telephone number, and I’ll send someone over tomorrow.”

Emelie gave her Francine’s name and number as a contact person and thanked her profusely for her help.

“My pleasure. I hear you are quite the artist, designing beautiful masks.”

Where did you hear that? Could it have been Justin?
She felt an inordinate pleasure at that thought. Which was pathetic, considering that Adele had no doubt heard about her work from someone in Houma. “Yes, I’ve been designing masks for some time, and then five years ago, Belle Pitot and I opened a shop together here in the Quarter. Do you know Belle?”

“Yes, she dated my older brother at one time.”

Among many others
, Emelie thought, but not in a mean way. Belle had been very popular in high school.

“I’d love to stop by sometime,” Adele said.

“I’d love to have you, but not right now. This is my busiest season, at a time when my father needs me, too.”

“Don’t let him manipulate you. Some patients do that
to family members, and before you know it, they’re in the hospital themselves.”

“Bingo!”

Adele laughed and said, “Do you want to talk with Justin before we hang up?”

Oh, my God, no!
“Uh, not right now. Gotta go. Someone just came into the shop. Thanks again, Dr. Hebert. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Adele,” Dr. Hebert said.

“Bye-bye, Adele.” She clicked off.

Emelie let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That was just great. Now she would be picturing Justin with Adele. And imagining his staying power
with her
.

He wasn’t the only one singing the blues…

On Saturday morning, a half-dozen members of Our Lady of the Bayou Church Rosary Society arrived to pray with his grandmother. Cage considered that his cue to leave.

It wasn’t a death vigil or anything morbid like that. Apparently, until her illness, MawMaw had belonged to the society and met with the group once a week at the church to say the rosary together for special intentions and then socialize afterward. The women had brought enough food to socialize for a week.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, MawMaw?” he asked.

“Go,” she said, practically pushing him out the door. “Yer makin’ me nervous, hoverin’ all the time.” She eyed him with a mischievous grin. “Unless ya want ta stay an’ pray with us.”

He left. And now he was driving his Jeep onto the crushed shell driveway of Tante Lulu’s little cottage, where JAM and Geek had been staying for the past ten days. His buddies would have been long gone by now, except that Bernie’s suspicions about a few of his employees had proven well founded. In fact, several more team members might very well be needed before this operation was completed.

Right off, he saw Tante Lulu on her back porch tossing little bits of orange snack food to a monster gator named Useless.

“I really don’t think you should be standin’ so close to that animal,” he said, not for the first time.

“Oh, he’s harmless as a peckerless man in a brothel, as long as a body is feedin’ him Cheez Doodles.”

Did she really say that word? Is it even a word? “Peckerless”?
“And when the Cheez Doodles run out?”

“Run like crazy, I s’pose.” She grinned at him. Not one bit frightened, even when Useless let out a loud bellow of impatience that pretty much translated to,
Hurry up or I’ll bite your fool head off.

He reached into the bag of Cheez Doodles and grabbed a huge handful, pitching them farther into the yard, past the St. Jude birdbath. Once the animal turned and began to lumber away toward the treats, he headed toward the door, almost knocking his head on the St. Jude wind chimes. The porch rockers were covered with cushions imprinted with images of… what else? St. Jude. And there was a St. Jude doormat, too. As if a visitor didn’t get the message that the saint of hopeless cases ruled here!

Tante Lulu was dressed fairly normal today, probably because of the cool weather, in blue jeans, which had probably been purchased in the children’s department
of Walmart, a Ragin’ Cajun sweatshirt, also child size, and white sneakers. Of course, she wore a blond Farrah Fawcett–style wig and enough makeup to plaster a wall.

“I really appreciate your puttin’ up the guys for so long,” he said. “I still say that they can stay in a motel somewhere nearby if you’re being inconvenienced.”

“There ain’t no motels nearby what serve good food. Besides, I enjoy havin’ company.”

“Where are they now?”

“In the kitchen. Computin’. Never saw so much computin’ or talkin’ on cell phones in all mah life.”

Welcome to the twenty-first century, honey. Have you been to the mall lately? Every other person has a phone glued to his or her ear. Silence is no longer golden. Gotta talk 24/7.

“’Course, Jacob goes off ta N’awleans on occasion ta court Belle…”

I hardly think “court” is the right word to use.

“But Darryl jist keeps on computin’. I’m beginnin’ ta wonder if he ain’t visitin’ some of them porno places.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did, and he tol’ me that you know all the best ones.”

Well, I guess I deserved that.

“I wouldn’t mind checkin’ one out, if they had a man what looked like Richard Simmons. Ooh, boy, he could shake his bootie at me anytime. A bootie is a hiney, in case you didn’t know.”

“I know what a bootie is.”

“Some folks still think a bootie is a knitted baby shoe; so it wouldn’t be awful if you dint know.”

She really thought he didn’t know what a bootie was.
I would go nuts if I had to live with this dingbat.

“By the by…” They’d just stepped into the kitchen
when Tante Lulu finished her babbling by asking Cage, “How’s your lovemakin’ comin’ along?”

His mouth dropped open, but JAM and Geek both grinned, already used to the old lady’s popcorn brain and blunt questions.

“Uh, well,” he stammered, “I haven’t had much time for sex lately.”

“What?” she practically squawked. “I dint mean sex, you idjet. I meant the thunderbolt of love and your path ta wedded bliss. You cain’t jist sit on your tushie and wait fer love ta come, y’know.”

Whoa!
“Honestly, there’s been a lot of rain lately, but not a single thunderbolt that I could hear.”

“Then you ain’t listenin’. Mebbe you need another St. Jude statue.”

“Maybe,” he said, just to halt the conversation.

But that didn’t stop the old broad. “You ’spectin’ Emelie ta wait fer you forever?”

“Seems ta me, Em never did much waitin’ for me. She got married, you know.”

“Pfff!”
She waved a hand airily. “You mus’ be thicker ’n a bayou stump.”