The Bridegrooms (27 page)

“You have talked to this man?”

“Let me go.”

The hand was lifted; still she went nowhere. Then he was in front of her, his finger beneath her chin, tugging her face upward. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the netting. “
Allons, ma chère
. I’ll go right on up with you.”

Vada moved away from his touch. “I don’t know what room he’s in. And I—”

“Too much a flower to ask? Settle up here, I be right back.” He moved with a confidence just short of a swagger, and two seconds and a handshake later, he was back at her side.

“Room 714. Look like we’re takin’ us an elevator.”

He reached for her, but she wasn’t about to walk across a hotel lobby arm in arm with this man. She shouldn’t walk with him, period. In fact, he shouldn’t even be here.

Lord, why couldn’t You keep him away?
Yet she couldn’t deny the bit of comfort LaFortune brought.

Around the corner from the front desk, they found the tall mahogany-rimmed glass doors of the hotel elevator attended by a young man who was taller, though not much older, than the bellboy she’d spoken with earlier.

“Going up?” he asked in a clipped, crisp tone.

“Floor seven,” LaFortune replied, and without any ceremony whatsoever, he gripped Vada’s free hand.

The operator slid the tall doors open, revealing an accordion-folded iron gate within. He grabbed the handle at one end, folding it completely before stepping back and ushering them in with a wide, gesturing arm.

“Après-toi.”
LaFortune nudged her ahead without letting go of his grip. He followed her across the threshold, and when she turned to face the front of the elevator, there he was, his breath heavy and close enough to ruffle her netting. They stood for a few seconds until a tiny little sound prodded them to action, and she backed in farther to allow him to stand next to her.

The sound repeated itself, and for the first time she noticed the ghostlike man in the corner of the elevator. He was tall and thin and pale, like a wisp wearing a little round hat. His age was well beyond being merely “old,” and his voice so slight, it seemed that very word was destined to be his last.

Vada leaned closer. “I beg your pardon?”

“Floor?”

“Seven,” LaFortune said.

With arms no wider than the gearshift he commanded, the operator lurched the car into motion. The opaque darkness of the shaft slid by the iron filigree of the inner doors, bringing the little party up and up. With each passing floor, LaFortune’s grip grew tighter and, surprisingly, wetter.

“Oooh, I feel me the
mal pris
in here,” he said, bending low. “These things make me cat-scared.”

“Elevators?”

“We don’t have nothin’ the like of them back home. Don’t seem natural.”

“Seventh floor,” the operator said with all the remaining strength of a man who had actually climbed all seven flights. Once again the accordion doors were opened, and the outer doors as well.

“Merci, papère,”
LaFortune said to the old man as they exited.

Room 714 was to the left, and the minute they stepped into the hall, Vada extracted her hand and openly wiped it dry on her skirt. “I don’t want you to follow me. There’s no reason for you to be a part of this. How would I ever explain exactly who you are?”

“How you explain that other fellow?”

“You are not
that other fellow
. Now you can take the stairs down, or get back in the elevator, or jump out a window, I don’t care. But this is where we part ways.”

“First floor, sir?”

Both Vada and LaFortune jumped, neither having seen the young man standing ready at the door.

“
Yi, non
. I take my chances with her.”

So it was that he followed her down the hall anyway, though she never looked back to give him the least encouragement. Her thoughts were too full of exactly what she was going to say once Mr. Alex Triplehorn opened the door to room 714.

Right now, all she envisioned was herself, standing strong and a little mysterious, insisting that he leave their family alone. That he had no claim on her sister and no score to settle with her father. They were healed and whole, and even if they weren’t, which she would never reveal, there was nothing he could possibly do to help, no matter how well-intentioned his offering of apology. Yes, that sounded good,
No matter how well-intentioned your offer of apology
.

She worked her lips around that phrase, mouthing it silently over and over until she was facing a door with the numbers 714 embossed on a gilded plate.

Time to knock.

“I be just right here,” LaFortune said over her shoulder. “Right outside the door.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, not sure if she was more grateful that he was staying outside or that he was staying, period. After taking a deep breath, she delivered three quick raps. Three long breaths. Then three more. She ventured a sidelong look at LaFortune, who gently pushed her to the side and delivered a series of knocks no one could ignore.

Nothing.

“He must be gone.” And she felt the first twinge of relief.

“Clerk say he is still a guest here.”

“Well, we can’t simply stand here in the hallway. Perhaps I’ll leave a note with the porter.” If she started running right now, she could be out of this hallway before Mr. Triplehorn made an appearance. “Let’s go.”

This time it was
she
who grabbed
his
hand. In her haste, though, she soon realized they were heading in the wrong direction, and after a few twists and turns, they were lost.

“This way?” she said, breathless.

“Par-ici.”
He tugged her in the opposite direction. He led them to an open door. Not wide open, but enough to give a good glimpse into the room, and to show that it was unoccupied. “Let’s go.”

“Are you insane?” She dug in her heels. “We can’t go in there.”

He held a finger up to his lips, bringing her hand along with it. “Shhh. We say we made mistake. Got lost, which is true
alors
.”

“You are insane.” But, for reasons she would never understand, she followed. One step over the threshold, then another. And soon the door was behind them. Soon after that, the door was closed. Then all she could say was, “Oh, my.”

They were standing inside the most exquisite little parlor she could ever have imagined. One wall hosted a fireplace with a mantel of carved pink marble and an ornate brass grate. Beautiful works of art adorned the other walls, soothing pastoral scenes and lovers strolling along French
river banks. The furniture struck the perfect balance between comfort and taste, the fabric an understated pattern of creamy stripes on even creamier silk.

Almost every surface held a vase of flowers. Some crystal, some brass, others a delicate, detailed porcelain—all filled with roses and lilies and carnations in every shade imaginable. They lent a fragrance to the room like she’d never experienced, and she took it in. Was this the early stages of pure intoxication?

“What you think of all this?” LaFortune moved around the room at a pace akin to prowling. “What a man’s got to do in his life to stay in a room like this one here?”

“You mean you don’t?” she said, grinning. “Not even in the exotic, exciting life of a professional baseball player?”

“Shoo-non!”
He traced one finger along the length of the mantel. “Most times we’re stayin’ in somethin’ more like a hole.”

“Well, we’ve seen the room. Let’s go.” She had her hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when she noticed he’d slipped into the little hallway.

“
Cher
, come see this!”

“No, thank you.” What was she thinking even walking through this door?

“Oh, but you must.” Suddenly he was back, grabbing her and taking her by such surprise that her package flew from her hand, and she was standing in what she imagined bathrooms looked like in heaven. All white, from the pristine tiles to the fluffy towels hanging from racks that appeared to be made of solid gold.
Everything
looked gold, even the commode pull chain. And the tub, if she wasn’t mistaken, seemed large enough for two—

“Yes,” she said. “Extraordinary. Now, let’s go.” But she was already
alone, and when she walked out of the bathroom, his hand snaked out into the little hall and pulled her into the only room left.

It was dominated by the largest bed she’d ever seen. Easily four times the size of her own. The four bedposts—all clean, varnished wood, no fussy, old-fashioned carvings—stretched nearly to the ceiling. The mattress itself was at least waist high, covered with a thick cream-colored quilt scattered with stitched pink rosebuds. One large dresser ran the length of the wall, and an imposing armoire dominated the other. Cornered between them was a free-standing mirror, and Vada happened to get a glimpse of herself reflected in it, wearing what now looked like a completely ridiculous hat, her face blurred beneath it like a ghost. Just as well she couldn’t make out her features, she didn’t know who this woman was, sneaking into expensive hotel rooms with a Cajun madman.

And then, there he was behind her, and she heard the sound of the ribbon just below her ear, amplified, as he pulled it, untying the bow. The veil was lifted, the hat removed, tossed onto the bed, and there she was. There they were. Then they disappeared as she turned, and there was nothing—no brass, no gold, no flowers—only him.

Oh, and she should run. Or even walk. Or even move. But the air around her seemed thick and heavy as a dream. A faint hope flickered within her, that maybe she was still sitting on the little sofa in Mrs. Capstone’s shop, and none of this was real. Perhaps if she opened her eyes…

But her eyes
were
open. So she closed them. And that’s when everything broke loose.

She felt her little pocketbook drop to the floor. She would have dropped right along with it if not for one strong arm wrapped around her waist. And then the other. She would have cried for help if not for the warm mouth covering hers. She reached for the door but found her hands
full of brown wool interspersed with green thread. She would run, but her steps brought her right up to him. Her heart pounded against his. Blood pounded in her ears.

“Si belle. Si, si belle…”

But deep inside, deep within the core of her that coiled upon itself, she knew she wasn’t beautiful. Not here, not now, and while her mouth was free, she told him, “No.”

“Oh, but see. When again do we ever have this chance? A room like this? A woman as beautiful…”

The tight, twisted feeling she held puddled into something else, and the lingering taste of his kiss turned bitter.

“Did you plan this?”

“Comment?”

“All of this. Meeting me at the hotel. This room. Is it yours?”

He threw back his head and laughed, seeming to pull the mirth from his toes. As embarrassing as it was, at least it caused him to loosen his grip, though she didn’t move away.

“Ah,
cher
.” He reached deep inside his pants pocket and pulled out several bills. “This all I have in the world. Nine dollars. All I’m gonna have until the first of July. I’m just lucky Barnie buy me supper.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. LaFortune.”

“’Bout time you called me Louis,
non
?”

“Louis. Like the king?”

“
Non
. Like the wolf. My name given is Petit Loup LaFortune.”

She thought a moment.
Petit loup
. “Little wolf?”

“For the howlin’ I did when
ma mère
bore me.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed, and before she knew it, she was back in his arms. Loosely this time, feeling no need to run.

“
Voyons
, don’t you see? Moments like these ain’t nothin’ but a gift
from
le bon Dieu
. And you,
ma petite
, have been some little bit of heaven each a-one of these days.”

“No, Mr. LaFor—Louis. This is not from God.” She didn’t have the heart, somehow, to tell him that she’d actually prayed
against
these moments. In fact, if she was truly honest with her Lord, she would confess being a little angry with Him for allowing the
very
thing she’d begged Him to protect her from. “What this is, is a diversion.”

“But fun, eh?”

“Maybe a little,” she confessed.

“And why would the good Lord not want you to have a
bon amusant
?”

“He doesn’t want me to have this desire. For you. It’s just—not right.”

“It feel right a few minutes ago.” He drew her closer.

“How can it be when you’re leaving? We’ll never see each other again.”

“I’m here tonight, after the game. Don’t leave ‘til sleepin’ train tomorrow. And then,” he brought his nose to hers, “you sure you don’ want to slip off with me? Stay in lots of little holes until it’s time to head back down to
le bayou
for the winter?”

“I’m sure,” she said. To her surprise—and relief—she was.

“Well, a shame, that. Because I could look into those eyes for—” He stopped, turned his ear toward the door.

She heard it too. A woman’s voice: throaty, cultured, giving orders to somebody to take something back to lay out on the bed.

“What do we do?” She was surprised she could speak at all, given her throat seemed to have shriveled to the width of straw.

He reached around her and snatched the hat off the bed. She picked up her pocketbook from the floor.

“Run!”

And just like that, he grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the bedroom as abruptly as he’d yanked her in. Acting on instinct, Vada held the hat over her face. Looking straight down to the floor, allowing herself to be led blindly into the parlor, trusting him completely to guide her steps.

“What on earth!”

That same cultured voice now took on a screeching quality, and Louis said,
“Pardonnez, madame!”

Vada watched the paisley-patterned carpet roll by beneath her skirt but was momentarily distracted by the glimpse of the plain little package on the floor. Determined to protect her identity, she screamed,
“Attendez!”
bringing Louis to a halt long enough for her to reach down and grab it.