Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure (18 page)

Before he made his first cast, he could swear he heard his father say, “
Look before ya cast, son. Keep yer eye on the target. No herky-jerky. Smooth and easy.
” And then when he felt a nibble on his line, his father saying, “Jerk ta set the hook. Doan let that ol’ fishie get away. Thass the way, thass the way.”

Fishing was a calming experience. He’d always known that, but the longer he fished, the more he remembered.

“Life is lak fishin’, son. A season fer everythin’. Even the bad times. But storms are okay. Fish lak a little rain.

“Be patient. Small acts kin have big consequences. Small ripples can produce big fish.

“Plain poles catch jist as many fish as fancy ones.

“Jist let it go, boy. Sometimes, thass all ya kin do. If ya catch a small fish, let it go. If someone hurts ya, jist let it go.”

Mon Dieu!
he thought, swiping at the tears that filled his eyes like a regular girly-girl.
My father was a frickin’ philosopher.
He’d bet his Budweiser, nickname for the precious SEAL pins, that when he finally got around to looking over all his father’s unpublished songs, he would find more of the same. A poor man’s philosophy of life. Well, that was what country music was all about anyhow, wasn’t it?

Then, too, there were the times when his father played the guitar for him and MawMaw and PawPaw. Even there, his soul had spoken its own homespun message. “Sometimes the notes you don’t play, Son, are more important than the ones you do.”

Tears continued to stream down his face now as he cast his line over and over, a repetitive, soothing exercise. He didn’t even try to stem the flow. By the time his line went tight for the first time, and he jerked back against the drag, he was already at peace with his father.

He and MawMaw had a mess of catfish for dinner. Symbolic? Maybe.

It wasn’t phone sex, but it came close…

Emelie’s phone rang about 11 p.m. She’d already relaxed in a bubble bath and was lying in her bed with a glass of white wine and a paperback novel, planning an early night of sleeping. She knew without checking the caller ID who it would be.

“Hi, Justin.”

“Hey, sugar, sorry to call so late. It’s been one hellacious day.”

“Same here. Thanks for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“I wasn’t sure what color to order. Red seemed too harsh a color for you. And yellow too much like
a friend, and yes, before you remind me, I know that I agreed to our being friends.” He paused. “Are you laughin’ at me?”

“A little. Pink was perfect. I love them.”

“Tell me about your day. What was so hellacious?”

“Well, not hellacious, but very busy and interesting.” She told him about the offer from the Mardi Gras museum.

“Em! That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, but—”

“But what?”

“I’m not sure if it’s what I want to do at this time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, time is the most important consideration. It would be a full-time job, and then some. I’m not sure I could handle it with the shop and all that entails. Plus other things might be taking up my time this year.”

There was a pause, as if he hesitated to ask her what those things might be. But then he remarked, “Like your father?”

And having a baby? And you?
“Yes, there is that.”

“Do you want my opinion?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want your thoughts.”

“Well, first of all, I think you’re right to take a few days to think things over. Don’t make a rash decision. Second, I’ll tell you what always works for me. Take two pieces of paper. On one of them, make a list of the reasons pro, and on the other, all the reasons con. For some reason, it always makes my reasoning more clear when I write things out longhand, rather than typing. Tape those two pages on a wallboard, or a cabinet, or whatever. For a few days, every time you pass, you’ll pause and read the lists
over, probably make additions or deletions. And at the end of a week, voilà! A decision will be made.”

“Does that always work for you?”

“Not always, but a lot of the time.”

She wanted to ask him if he’d made those lists on occasion when considering whether to return to Louisiana, or not, and the “not” had always won out? She wanted to ask what the “con” reasons might have been. But they were supposed to be just friends now, and that meant boundaries. So all she said was, “Thanks. I’ll try that.”

“What else happened today?”

Without giving him too many details, like the things her father had done relating to him and his family, Emelie told him about her conversations with Francine.

“Sounds to me like a little tough love is in order.”

“Exactly. And so far so good. Francine says he seems to have gotten the message. My father has done some awful things, but he’s still my dad, and I’ve got to find some way to forgive him. Like you, in some ways.” Well, not at all like Justin and his father. In many ways, what her father had done, despite being a sheriff, or perhaps because he’d been in law enforcement, was so much worse.

“I don’t want to talk about your dad. I’m in a forgiving mood tonight, and I’m not ready to forgive your father for his interference in my life.”

And you don’t have a notion of even half of what he’s done.
“So who did you forgive today?”

“I figured you must have guessed since you mentioned your father. My dad, that’s who I forgave today. Do you ever listen to country music, Em?”

That question came to her out of the blue, unrelated to the question of fathers and forgiveness. Confused, she answered slowly, “Sometimes. A lot of country
today is a blend with other types of music, like blues or rock.”

“Have you ever heard of the song ‘Prison Is a State of Mind’?”

“The Johnny Cash song?”

“Yeah. It was also redone recently by Jason Aldean.”

“And?”

“My father wrote that song.”

There was such pride in Justin’s voice that Emelie’s heart swelled in empathy for him. “Justin! That’s amazing. How did you find out?”

He told her all about his father’s last letter and what his grandmother had told him about his professional songwriting.

She was so happy for him. “I would love to look at some of the sheet music you mentioned.”

“Come over one day, and we’ll go through the box together. It would probably mean more to you than me anyhow, with your musical background.”

“That’s a deal.”

“Besides, MawMaw would like to see you again. She mentioned today that there are some photographs of your mother in one of her old albums.”

“Oh, my goodness! I would love to see those. My dad took so few, especially after her being sick for so long.” She paused, took a sip of wine, and said, “So news about your dad’s song… is that where your forgiveness for the day came in?”

“Well, not exactly.” He elaborated about the letters, and royalties, and fishing.

Even though it all came out jumbled, she understood. Having been with Justin at the height of all his pain over
his father, she more than anyone understood how what he’d learned today could help him heal.

“So I guess I’m not such a bad seed, after all.”

“Oh, Justin! If you were here, I’d smack you silly for making such a statement.”

“If I were there, you wouldn’t be smackin’ me.”

“Oh, really?” she teased. “What would I be doing?”

He chuckled. That was enough. But then he mentioned several things that were clearly meant to scandalize her.

“Bad boy!” she said, but then she whispered what she’d rather be doing, and it was even more scandalous.

“Bad girl!” he said, but she could tell that he loved it. “Hey, Em,” he added, and his voice was lower and huskier now, “remember those fantasies we were talking about?”

Like she could ever forget! Justin had never made such sweet love to her as he had after she’d acted out his fantasy of singing the blues to him in the nude. Well, not totally in the nude, but close enough. “Yes,” she said hesitantly. “You haven’t come up with another one, have you?”

“Oh, baby, I have lots of fantasies about you. Have I told you how much I appreciated the one you already fulfilled?”

“You might have mentioned it a time or two.”

“What I was referrin’ to was
your
fantasy.”

Oh, boy, he was going to remind her about that. Her face got hot just thinking about what she’d had the nerve to tell him.

“In case you’ve forgotten, you mentioned me playing the guitar wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and boots.” With a ta-da pause, he said, “Guess what I found in the attic today?”

She laughed. “Could it be a guitar, cowboy hat, and boots?”

“Bingo!”

“Sounds like we have a date.”

“Count on it, baby.”

“I should go. I have a long day tomorrow,” she said then.

“Same here.”

“Call me tomorrow night?”

“For sure.” There was a short silence before he began, “Em, I love…”

Her heart seemed to stop.

“… having you for a friend,” followed by a dial tone.

She shouldn’t be disappointed, but she was.

Beware of old ladies with plans…

C
ompany arrived early the next morning.

Mary Mae heard the soft knock on the door from her bedroom and came rushing out, or at least walking fast, but Cage, who wore only a pair of sleep pants, was already rising from his seat at the kitchen table, where he’d been sipping a cup of coffee and reading last night’s sport page.

“Yoo-hoo!” someone said, opening the door a crack.

He glanced at his wristwatch, and Mary Mae heard him mutter, “It’s only seven frickin’ a.m.”

“Tante Lulu!” Mary Mae said. “Come in, you. I’m not ready yet.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Her grandson looked at Mary Mae and seemed to notice for the first time that she had dressed with special care today. She wore black slacks and low-heeled shoes with a two-piece, rose-colored sweater set. The curls of her newly shampooed
hair looked soft and fluffy, and her face glowed with a small amount of makeup and lip gloss.

Tante Lulu was dressed for the day, too. Her soft curls were gray, as well, but that was where the similarities ended. Her friend’s small body was encased in a long-sleeved, knee-length, zebra print, wraparound dress with a big red vinyl belt and matching red plastic, wedge-heeled shoes. The round circles of rouge on her cheeks and the pouty-outlined lips matched the red belt, too. Lordy, Lordy!

“Um, you goin’ somewhere, MawMaw?” Justin asked.

“Dint ya tell him we’s havin’ a Ladies’ Day t’day?” Tante Lulu asked her.

“No chance yet,” she said, giving Cage a small smile of apology. “Tante Lulu and me and some of the girls are gonna have a day out.”

“What girls?”

Mary Mae didn’t like her grandson’s tone. Not one bit. She didn’t have to account for her every minute to the boy. Did she ask where he’d been all night Saturday?

Recognizing that he might have overstepped himself, Justin said, “I mean, it’s nice that you’re goin’ out with ‘the girls.’ I actually have to meet with the guys today.”

Mary Mae accepted his unspoken apology. “Me and Tante Lulu are gonna join up with Charmaine in her beauty shop in Houma. Some of Tante Lulu’s nephews’ wives might come with us on a shoppin’ trip ta N’awleans, where we’s gonna have lunch at Antoine’s.”

“Are you sure you can handle that much walking?”

“I know enough to sit down and rest if I get overtired.”

“Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon?”

She’d moved her medical records from the cancer center
in New Orleans to one in Houma to make it easier for her to get to appointments as her disease progressed. “I do, hon, but I canceled and rescheduled fer Friday. I was hopin’ ya could come with me, and we could stop by the lawyer’s office and the bank on the same day.”

He nodded. “Sounds like you’ve been busy, MawMaw.”

Was he upset that she’d done some things on her own initiative?

“I ain’t dead yet, boy. If I cain’t take care of bizness on mah own, I might as well kick the bucket. And I doan mean one of those silly bucket lists. Ha, ha, ha!”

“Have I fallen down the garden hole?” Justin asked.

“Huh?” she said.

“He means lak
Alice in Wonderland
,” Tante Lulu explained. “Folks are allus sayin’ that around me.”

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?”