Southern Hearts (Southern Love Series) (14 page)

Later that evening, Austin walked into the living room,
where his mother was reading her Kindle by the fireplace. He could tell since
he had been home that there was something she wanted to tell him.

"Mom, are you okay?" He kissed her cheek and
sat on the ottoman across from her.

"Yeah." Charlene took a sip from a steaming
cup of ginger tea. "Actually, I can't stand idly by while you make stupid
decisions. I see the look in your eyes for the woman upstairs, and I can tell
you right now, Austin Benjamin McBride, that this woman upstairs is wrong for
you."

"Mom, lower your voice," Austin said.

"Austin, I'm dying." Charlene took Austin's
hand in hers. "That woman may be an easy distraction, but she is not the
one you need in your life."

"What? How long?"

Austin couldn't fathom life without his mother. He'd
lost his father a year ago, and now he was about to lose the woman who gave
birth to him and had been there for him through thick and thin.

"Six months." Charlene stroked the side of
Austin's face. "I know I raised you right, son. But a mother knows what's
best for her son, and I can tell you right now that Rebecca is not the woman
for you. When you choose a mate, you look for substance and character. And ask
yourself, could this woman be the mother of your kids and your companion for
life?" Charlene chuckled. "And make sure she can cook."

"I will."

Austin pulled his mother in his arms and hugged her
tight.

***

"And Farrah doesn't know?" Austin asked.

"No, I don't think so." Hank shook his head.
"Your mom didn't want to burden you."

Austin nodded his head. Charlene McBride had known that
Farrah was the woman for him; even Snowflake chose her. He knew he'd put Farrah
through a lot of shit; he didn't blame her for telling him to kiss her ass.

"All I have to say, man, is that you have a wonderful
girl in Farrah. She accepts you for you. She loves your country ass. She chose
you the first day she decided to love you."

"I chose her," Austin said as he grabbed the
phone and made some calls.

Farrah tried to remember if she resembled her dad. People
used to always tell her that she was the spitting image of her mother, but not
her father. The fact that he might not be her biological father never crossed
her mind.

But now, as she sat at the Jinx Café that Claude DeCuir
owned, Farrah couldn't help but harbor resentment—her mother had lied to her
her whole entire life.

"She is not mine?" Reggie Rue yelled, causing
Farrah to wake up.

"Mommy and Daddy, please stop fighting," she
cried, holding her stuffed animal.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin." Reggie picked Farrah up
and carried her to the kitchen, where he made her a banana split before tucking
her into bed.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

Farrah realized why Mona blamed her for her parents'
deaths. There had been resentment in Mona since the day of the funeral. Farrah
had blocked so many things from her mind back then. She blocked out how cruelly
Mona treated her, which was one of the many reasons why Farrah had decided to
go to the culinary school all the way in New York—she had to get away from her
grandmother.

Farrah tossed enough bills on the table to cover her meal
and tip. She wanted to talk to Claude DeCuir, but her heart and mind wouldn't
allow it. Deep down, she was scared of being rejected by him. She was scum on
the bottom of her grandmother's shoe, and she didn't have any other family
left. Farrah took a deep breath, deciding she had nothing to lose. For the past
three days, she had come to Claude's restaurant only to leave without seeing or
talking to him, but today was going to be the day she met the man Mona claimed
was her father.

"Is the owner in?" Farrah asked as the waitress
came over to the table.

"Mr. DeCuir?"

Farrah cleared her throat. "Yes."

"I'll go get him for you," the waitress said as
she disappeared behind the double doors.

Farrah drummed her fingers nervously on the table. What was
she supposed to say to a man she didn't know?
Hello, my name is Farrah, and
I believe I'm your daughter.
This was a bad idea. Cold feet set in, and she
grabbed her purse to go.

"Farrah?" a man said with a heavy French accent.

Farrah was stunned as a dapper man in his late fifties
walked over to her table. Claude DeCuir was very light-skinned, with red hair
and light brown eyes. Farrah knew at that moment that this was her father.

"How did you know my name?" she asked.

"
Je suis ton père
."

I'm your father.

Claude smiled and sat down at the table across from her.

Awkward silence hung between them as they stared at each
other.

"So, how about this weather?" Farrah said after a
while.

She knew she sounded like a blithering idiot, but she also
knew without a doubt in her mind that Claude DeCuir was her father.

"You look just like your mother; you even bite your
lip like she did when she was nervous or upset."

Farrah opened her mouth only to close it. She was trying to
find the words to say to him. There were a hundred questions she wanted to ask.
The man sitting across from her was a total stranger. For all she knew, this
could all be a lie.

"During a stressful argument with Mona, I learned that
the past twenty-seven years of my life might have been a lie." Farrah
played with the napkin on the table. "It took me three days to find the
courage to face you."

"
Ma fille
, I'm happy you found the courage to
come see me. I waited for this day for years." His eyes twinkled with
happiness and relief.

"What relationship did you have with my mother?"
Farrah asked.

"Your mother was my first and only love. You only get
one soul mate, Farrah, and your mother was it for me. I met your mother when I
came to Louisiana with my father twenty-eight years ago when he was building a hotel.
I fell in love with Rose the moment I laid eyes on her. I intended to marry her;
I took her home with me to meet my family. Didn't go quite well; the next thing
I knew, Rose was leaving Canada. When I ran after her, I found her and Reggie
Rue in a compromising position." Claude looked Farrah directly in the eye.
"I would have followed your mother around the world and back."

Farrah dropped her gaze. "Why did she lie?"

"My mother didn't think your mother was right for
me."

"I remember seeing you at her funeral," Farrah
said. "You were sitting in the back of the church."

Claude nodded. "When I found out Rose was killed, I
lost it. I saw you at the funeral, crying. I wanted to hold you and tell you
that you weren't alone."

"Why didn't you come for me?" Farrah twisted the
napkin around her finger tightly.

"Mona." He chuckled. "She didn't want you to
know until the time was right. But I promise you, Farrah, I wanted you."

"You should have told me." Farrah shook her head.
"Do you know she told me she didn't want anything to do with me? Do you
know she thinks my mother's death was her own fault? She blames the victim and
not the murderer."

"Don't cry." Claude took hold of Farrah's hand.
"I'm not perfect, Farrah. I wish I had told you sooner that I was your
father, but you'd just lost your mother and the man who raised you. I couldn't
add more salt to your wounds. I could only stand back and wait for you; until
then, I helped with monetary expenses."

Farrah took a sip of cold water. She thought back to when
her graduation items were paid for in full, even her senior trip.

"You paid for culinary school," Farrah said.

She remembered crying for a few days when she got accepted
to the school but didn't have the funds to pay for it. Two days later, she
received a call stating that her expenses, from tuition to room and board, were
paid in full.

"Yes, you are my daughter, and you deserve the
best."

Claude talked to Farrah at length about her mother in his
French accent. Her father was a handsome gentleman with kind eyes the same
color as hers. The anger that Farrah had in her heart began slipping away. She still
had hurt and longing in her heart for her mother, but Claude reminded her of
better days, when her mother was happy. She was surprised and overjoyed to
learn that she had a grandmother, a grandfather, aunts and uncles, not to
mention cousins.

Farrah found herself laughing at the stories Claude told of
her mother.

"Rose raised you well, Farrah. You're independent,
educated and self-confident. You're able to stand on your own two feet. Did you
know Rose wanted to open a restaurant? I wasn't surprised when I found out you opened
one of your own."

Farrah forced a smile. "She used to talk about it all
the time. I guess I figured I'd follow in her footsteps with food."

"Yes,
bien-aimé
."

So many feelings rushed through her. Standing up, she thanked
him for spending time with her.

"Farrah, I would love to be a father to you, but only
when you're ready. I don't want to push you." Claude scribbled down phone
numbers on a piece of paper. "You can contact me, day or night."

Farrah kissed his cheek, but not before he said something
that caused her to think about Austin.

"Life is precious, Farrah. Don't make the mistakes me
and your mother made. I loved your mother and will always love her. Every day I
live with regret." He paused and looked at her. "I wish I had done
more to convince Rose that our love could prevail. I know your personal life
has been a little too public lately, but I want you to know that if you need
someone to talk to, I'm here."

Farrah leaned down and kissed Claude goodbye before she
ventured down the street towards her hotel.

A part of Farrah had missed New Orleans and its rich
history. She made her way to Jackson Square. Her mother used to always bring
her to the French Quarter on Saturdays when she had to work the early shift at
the café. Walking the beautiful garden inside the square, she stood in front of
the magnificent fountain. Her mother used to always tell her to make a wish
before tossing a coin into the fountain.

"Did you make a wish yet, dearie?" an old Cajun
voice asked.

Farrah looked over at the old black woman, her dark brown
eyes looking tired but held so much wisdom. Her salt and pepper hair fell over
her shoulders. The woman wore a long black skirt and a shirt. Her arms were
covered with beaded jewelry.

"Not yet." She smiled.

"Whatcha waiting on, child?" the woman asked.

"I want to make a good wish." Farrah turned and
smiled at the woman. "It's not like my wish is going to come true
anyway."

"Is that what you say?" she asked.

"I remember as a child coming here wishing for things,
and they didn't come true." Farrah said.

"Wish from the heart, and not for money. Not for
things." The old woman smiled.

Farrah opened her mouth, but the woman touched her hand to
stop her. "Don't say it aloud, child. Didn't anyone ever tell you it must
be a silent wish?"

Farrah smiled and nodded.
I wish for a healthy child and
Austin
. Farrah kissed the penny before tossing it into the fountain.

"Now, see, my child, was that so hard?" The woman
patted Farrah's hand.

The lady made Farrah uneasy. She knew that the Quarter was
filled with fortune tellers, artists, and musicians. That was another reason
Farrah loved New Orleans—it was so steeped in culture.

"Have you ever been confused?" The woman didn't
wait for Farrah to reply. "Your child's father is an alpha male, but he
also prides himself on being a good man. He wants to make his good ol' dad and
mom proud of him and of the decision he made."

Farrah nodded her head. She knew from the way Austin spoke
about his mother and father that he was striving to make them proud. She wanted
to make her mother proud of her, too. She wanted her mother to know that all
her hard work raising her hadn't been for nothing.

"There were a few bumps in the road, but I can tell
you, Miss Missy, that you have a helluva man. He never stopped loving you and
will never stop. Your fate with him lies in your hands," she said.

"How do you know so much?" Farrah asked.

"I was born with a third eye, a gift from my mother
and her mother," the woman said before walking gingerly toward the voodoo
temple across the street.

Farrah stood there in shock. She knew the woman wasn't done
talking. Sighing, she followed her into a small shop. Pictures and African
paintings and figurines filled the small space. The smell of incense made
Farrah queasy.

"Sit," the woman said and nodded to a chair.

"Thanks." Farrah accepted a bottle of water the
woman offered her.

"I'm Elspeth."

Elspeth sat behind a table and took hold of Farrah's hand.
"You're still grieving your mother's death." Farrah was taken aback
by the revelation.

"Don't shake your head no, and don't say no, child.
Rose will always be with you, and she's happy that you found your father. She
hopes that you will open your heart again and be free." Elspeth sat back
and watched Farrah carefully.

"It's hard. How do you expect a woman who witnessed
the death of her mother and father to ever be free? I don't have a clear view
on what love is supposed to be like. I don't even know if I'm going to be a
good mother or wife to anyone."

"Dearie, love is not an illusion. Your mother said she
was happy when Austin came into your life. Rose wants you to know that God
brings people together. He had a hand in bringing you and Austin McBride
together." Elspeth took Farrah's hand in hers.

"My mother and my—Reggie—they didn't love one another.
God, they didn't even hug or tell each other 'I love you.' When I talked to my
real dad, I learned that my mother's relationship with Reggie Rue had nothing
to do with love."

"Farrah," Elspeth said. "Rose says you're
capable of love. She is sorry you didn't witness it much growing up, but you
found it now. Will you let your fear of being loved and being in love scare you
away from the man you love?"

"I didn't tell him to stay." Farrah stood up and
paced the small store room. "I never fought for him, even when he calls
and texts me every day."

"Love is a blessing."

Farrah paused mid-step, and, turning slowly, looked at the
wise old woman. "What did you say?"

"Love is a blessing."

"Oh, God."

Farrah sank back down in the chair. She'd had her doubts
about Elspeth, believing the woman was possibly lying somehow about talking to
her mother, creating the illusion to scam her, but her mother had told her
those exact words a few months before being killed. "I miss her so much.
There's so much that I didn't get to say to her or share with her."

"Honey child, your mother didn't miss a thing. Every
time you thought you were going through a difficult situation by yourself, she
was there for you. Your mother said she was there for you when Frederick did
you wrong."

"Yeah, she was," Farrah said as she vividly
recalled the dream in which her mother visited her when she was unconscious.

"Baby, your mother's body is not on this earth, but
she is all around you in spirit. Now, chin up." Elspeth smiled and
caressed Farrah's cheek. "You asked me how do you know what love is."

"Yes."

"Look into your heart, Farrah; there is love in your
heart that you invited in. You can choose right now to surrender to it."

Farrah took a deep breath and exhaled. Reaching into her
purse, she pulled out a few bills and placed them on the table. "Thank
you."

"Child, please. You have people beyond here rooting
for you and this man. My grandmother said that true love only comes around
once. Now, child, don't you sit here and horse around because of the past. The
past is what makes you stronger, not weaker, baby girl."