The Second Song #1: Homecoming (2 page)

"Yes, and I got dozens of pictures of the Great Wall this time!" I said, draping my arm around her as we stepped into the cool house and I was home.

"E
lise,
cher
, I don’t want to see you sitting in this house all summer," grand-mére admonished after a week of weaving baskets on her back porch. My second day back, I made the mistake of venturing into town. I was practically run out of Wal-Mart by pitchfork-wielding villagers, and I hadn’t been back since. It had really only been a few backhanded comments from people I once called friends, but I couldn’t face their contempt. I hadn’t told gran about it. 

"I’m not
in
the house gran, I’m
on
the porch."

"You and that smart mouth, just like your momma." She chuckled, rocking in her chair. She’d talked about my momma and how much I was like her, all my life. I felt like I almost knew the woman who gave birth to me, thanks to gran.

"I happen to like sitting on this porch with you gran. Brings back alotta’ good memories."

"I seem to recall havin’ to listen to your moanin’ and groanin’ back in the ole days." She laughed.

"I guess the grass always does seem greener on the other side of the fence." I laughed with her. It was true, I hated basket weaving when I was a kid and I’d had to do it to help us survive. Now, my fingers moved deftly as if they’d not quite forgotten the task after all this time.

"Why do you still make these dang things grand-mére? You don’t have to worry about money, and I hate to see you work so hard."

"I don’t work nearly as hard as I used to
cher,
" she said softly. "But a lot of our people haven’t been as lucky, so I make my baskets because I don’t have anything else to do. I give them to folks to sell like we used to, so they’ll have a bit more food on the table or clothes on their backs."

"You don’t hardly ever touch the money I send you, so how are you gettin’ by gran?"

"I have my social security and your grand-pére’s pension, and since it’s just me, I have plenty
cher,
don’t you worry about me. You save your money."

"But gran, I could give you so much more! I could build you a house and hire someone to take care of you when I’m not here. The money I send you every month is
nothing
compared to what I want to do for you!"

"My Henri built me this house! And I do not need a caretaker Elise!"

"I-I just want to see you well taken care of gran." I sighed in frustration at the argument we’d had a million times over the years.

"All I need Elise, is to see you more often."

"I know grand-mére, I’ve stayed away too long. I just wish you’d feel comfortable using the money I send you."

"I’ll make you a deal." She smiled impishly. "I will use that money to help our people, and I will indulge myself every once in a while with something frivolous, if you spend this summer getting back in touch with the girl you once were. Go explore the canals the way you used to. Get in touch with your old friends, go to the
fais do do
this weekend; you always looked forward to those dances when you were just comin’ up. Rediscover your
joie de vivre, cher
because I’m afraid you’ve lost it."

"
Laissez les bon temps rouler
?" I smiled at the old Cajun saying - let the good times roll.

"Not too much
cher
," gran laughed. "Don’t go gettin’ in trouble like you did those last few years."

"We have a deal gran, but I’ve never apologized for my wilder days. I gave you too much heartache."

"No more than your mother did at that age."

"I was so eager to get out of this town and make something of myself." I shook my head.

"But you did Elise; look at what you’ve accomplished?"

"I won’t deny I’ve worked hard to get where I am, but this pop princess person is not who I set out to become all those years ago when I used to sneak off to the Quarter, just begging for someone to discover me."

"Then you made a wrong turn somewhere
cher,
but pop princess or rock princess, I’m
proud
of my girl."

"Rock princess, that’s a new one." I smiled. "That’s what I wanted when Max first handed me his card. I saw my future with a band, singing my own songs, not dancing across the stage every night singing crap that doesn’t mean anything."

"Lache pas la patate."

"No gran, I won’t give up." I shook my head in determination. "I think that’s why I came home. You’re right, I need to recapture the fire and passion I had before all this started."

"That might be just what you need - passion. Avery’s gone on an assignment, but from what I hear he’ll be back soon," she said innocently.

"That's not the passion I was talkin’ about gran." I rolled my eyes. "Passion for my
music.
"

"Well you two were so hot and heavy for so long, I wonder if your passion for your music is mixed up with your feelings for Avery."

"Gran! That was ages ago, I’m sure Avery has moved on - and you know Silas and I are still together."

"That boy is dumber than dirt and sweet as pie, but you two aren’t any more in love than I am with that gator sunnin’ himself on that log over there."

"I love you gran!" I threw my head back and laughed.

"Avery still loves you as much as he ever did and I know you’ve kept up with his career. You’ve both done so well with your talents, but neither of you are happy."

"Avery is a successful photojournalist. He spends enough time away from home, exploring the world, I’m sure he’s moved on gran," I said rising from my seat to get more swamp grass.

"You’re almost out," I frowned when I saw there was very little grass drying on the racks. "Who gathers for you these days?"

"Avery, when he’s home."

"Still?" He and I used to keep gran’s drying racks full. I hadn’t realized he kept up the chore when I’d gone.
Damn Avery for his decency!
I shoulda found someone to help gran with stuff like this a long time ago.

"He’s been gone a while this time." She sighed.

"I’ll go out and gather for you gran. It’ll give me time to explore."

"Be careful you’ve not been out on your own in years. Your pirogue is in the boathouse
cher
," she called. "It should have weathered well, Avery takes it out every once in a while."

He’s still lookin’ after gran after all these years? Or is he still trying to take care of me through her?

I
t was incredible how quickly everything came back to me as I poled through the canals, gathering the long strands of swamp grass along the way.

God I missed this!

The tranquility and beauty of the Louisiana bayou was something I’d never seen in any other part of the world. I’d played in every major arena across the globe and I’d seen the Pyramids and the Great Wall, the Coliseum and the Eiffel Tower plus a dozen more of the most famous monuments right up close. I’d visited the best museums and seen the world’s most amazing vistas, but it was nothing compared to my own backyard.

I poled down a narrow canal, aiming for a spot I’d frequented in my youth, where Avery and I used to go swimming after we’d gathered all the swamp grass we could carry. The shallow canal spilled into a deep pond that looked like solid ground. The gnarled old trees rose from the water, their trunks stained with watermarks from years of the ebb and flow of the constantly changing waters of the Mississippi river. Most outsiders would gaze at this pond and see something old and decayed about the water, but I knew better. The "green slime" floating on the water’s surface wasn’t slime at all, but tiny green plants growing on the surface. Some canals were covered in it, and I’d seen many tourists try to walk on it because if you didn’t know what you were looking at, it seemed like solid ground. 

A gator splashed into the water nearby and I suppressed a little shiver. To most Cajuns, alligators were just part of the scenery, but they’d always frightened me as a child. I wasn’t so afraid that I wouldn’t swim in the canals and ponds, but once I’d seen a gator, I maintained a healthy distance.

Another, louder splash caught my attention and I poled further into the deeper waters to explore. The swamps were full of fascinating creatures and I was enjoying the chance to rediscover my old haunts.

I poled around some of the larger trees and realized someone had built a cabin back here. It was a really nice one too, similar to gran’s, up on stilts, but larger, with two floors and lots of windows.

Probably some rich Creole from the city, looking for a good fishing spot.

I heard the splash again and turned to see ‘green slime’ covered arms rising from the water, hefting a huge pile of mud covered swamp grass onto the shore. The rest of his body soon followed and I realized he was naked and I was intruding.

"’Scuse me," I called when he saw me. "Didn’t realize anyone lived way back here."

He glared at me through his mud-covered eyes, reaching for a towel to clean his face rather than cover himself with it.

"Elise Leroux? Is that really you?"

"Avery?" I gasped.
Boy has he grown up!
I tried not to stare.

"You deign us with your presence?" He laughed, reaching for his jeans after he’d toweled off most of the mud. I’d seen him do this a thousand times, but he’d been a boy back then.

"Don’t be mean; you know I love this place!" I said playfully, encouraged by his lighthearted tone.

"Come on over, I’ve got a load of grass ready for Léoma. I shoulda been back a month ago, I’m sure she’s out by now."

"Not quite." I poled over to the dock where his pirogue was loaded with the kind of grass you could only find deep in the bayou. He’d been working hard all day.

"I feel bad you’ve been doin’ this for gran all these years," I said as I joined him on solid ground, trying not to stare at the hard muscled chest of a man I hardly recognized, but he seemed so familiar at the same time. "I just assumed she got her swamp grass from ole Mr. Thibodaux."

"She does from time to time, but I don’t mind helpin’ her out."

"So what brings you home?" He asked, clearly avoiding my gaze as he tied the last bundle of grass and hefted it into the boat. His jaw was clenched almost like he was intimidated and didn’t know how to act around me. I’d seen that look often enough with the people who worked for me and I did not want to see it on Avery’s face.

"Oh taking a much needed break from my life as a performing seal," I said with a huge sigh, hoping to ease the tension I felt between us.

He burst out laughing, and I saw a bit of the old Avery return. "I’ve often wondered if you saw it, or if you were so blinded by the glitz and the glam that you didn’t realize it."

"What that I’m a pop-princess-puppet, dancing to the strings my managers wield? Yeah, I see it, I’ve always seen it Avery - I’ve just always hoped it would lead to something more me."

"And has it?" He asked, easing his pirogue back into the water, linking it with mine, and securing both to the dock. 

"I don’t know who I am anymore, so no, I suppose not." It was odd how quickly we slipped back into our old ways of brutal honesty. I had always been able to count on Avery to tell me the truth. It was part of what hurt us the most when we parted ways; we’d been too honest, and hurtful, with one another.

"Come in for a drink?" He reached for my hand and I tried to keep my trembling at bay.

"Love to."

"Make yourself at home, I’m going to go get cleaned up real quick," he said, gesturing for me to take a seat in the small, well-furnished living room as he ran up the beautifully carved staircase.

Avery really had done well for himself. His home was modest and comfortable, but beautiful as well. I gazed around the room at the high ceilings and exposed beams, to the polished hardwood floors and the comfy leather armchair I sat in, and I saw Avery everywhere. He knew who he was and I envied him.

"You live all the way out here now?" I called as he bustled around in his loft-room upstairs.

"Yeah, when I’m home I like to stay away from town. I stay with friends on the weekends sometimes though."

"You still hang out with the old crowd?"

"Beau and Mallory mostly, but sometimes Owen and Stacy too but they’re divorced now!" he called over the sound of the shower running.

"I didn’t even know they were married!"

"No one expected it to last as long as it did!"

"God they were just kids," I muttered, but that was all there was to do in this town. Graduate high school and go to college if you could manage it, or get married and have babies.

Thank God Avery had a head on his shoulders, with enough sense and the good grades to get out when he did. I glanced at his gear sitting by the door so I knew he hadn’t been home more than a day. I smiled at the sight of his old guitar case. I knew he never left home without it.

Avery was a talented musician with an incredible voice, but for him it had always been a hobby. I had been so proud of him when he went to college. I missed out on the real college experience. The best I had managed was a basic degree in business I’d done online; but Avery had done it right, and his degree had prepared him for his career as a talented freelance photojournalist. I’d followed his career as much as I could. I even kept a scrapbook of all his articles and photos from magazines and newspapers all across the world. ‘Followed,’ might be the wrong term - stalking might be a more apt description.

I wonder where he’s been this time. Somewhere exciting I’m sure, doing something that really mattered.

"Lemonade, sweet tea or beer?" He asked as he hurried back into the kitchen, pulling a t-shirt over his head after his quick shower.

"Sweet tea please." I joined him in the kitchen where he grabbed a beer from the fridge and I helped myself to a glass from the cupboard.

"So where’ve you been?" I asked, simply for something to say.

"Argentina, covering a story on the drug cartel."

"Avery Trahan! That sounds dangerous!"