The Red-Hot Cajun

by Sandra Hill

That’s why when, in the middle of the afternoon, her secretary beeped her to say, “You have company,” she responded in a mindless fashion, “Company?”

  “Yes. They talk just like you do. Southern.”

  Ithought I got rid of my Southern accent.

  “And the guy... whew! Every woman on this floor is fanning herself. The South could surely rise again if they have men like that down there.”

  Rene! was her first thought. She smiled—probably goofily—and said, “Send him right in.” She stood and was about to go around her desk, but immediately sank back into her chair with disappointment.

  It wasn’t Rene. It was Raoul Lanier, Rene’s brother-in-law with his wife, Charmaine. And, oh my God, Tante Lulu.

  “Surprise!” Tante Lulu said and came up and around the desk to give her a hug.

  Surprise didn’t begin to express how she felt. Crushed. Shocked. Puzzled.

  “Sorry to barge in on you like this.” Charmaine gave her a little hug and sank down into a chair in front of her desk. “Tante Lulu insisted on coming, and we couldn’t let her come alone.”

  Raoul half-sat on the arm of his wife’s chair. Ducking his head sheepishly, he added, “I’m just here for the ride.” And, yes, the man was drop-dead gorgeous in his cowboy hat and boots and tight jeans. She could see why all these city women would swoon over him. He isn’t Rene, though.

  “Oh, no! Did something happen to Rene?” That must be why they’d come all this way, to tell her in person.

  “He’s fine.” Tante Lulu was walking around the large office, examining everything from the silver water carafe on the sideboard to the coffee in the high-tech coffeemaker, which she sniffed and seemed to deem inferior.

  “Bought himself a house, got a new job, and had a pretty woman sleepin’ over las’ time I saw ‘im.”

  Charmaine and Raoul gave Tante Lulu a questioning look, but said nothing. So it must be true.

  “Rene is dating?” She could barely get the words out over the lump in her throat.

  “Sure. Ain’t you?” Tante Lulu asked, a sly expression on her wrinkled face. The old lady was wearing her going-to-the-city clothes today. Outlandish, as usual. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls. She wore a red pantsuit. Polyester, of course. White orthopaedic style shoes. And she carried a canvas bag decorated with cartoon alligators that proclaimed, Cajun Proud.

  “I’ve been too busy to date.” But I will, you can be sure of that. The two-timing rat! “What brings you to the city?”

  “You,” Charmaine and Raoul said together.

  “I wanna see the Statue of Liberty and the naked cowboy before I die,” Tante Lulu replied at the same time.

  Uh-oh! “Are you planning on dying anytime soon?”

  “Ya never know. I’m almos’ eighty. By the by, you are comin’ to my birthday party next week, ain’t you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Considering the circum—”

  Tante Lulu shook her head fiercely. “You promised.”

  “But the situation was different then.”

  “You promised.”

  “Look, it would be awkward for me with Rene there.”

  “There’s gonna be three hundred people. Surely, a smart girl like you can avoid him if ya want to,”

  Charmaine offered, even as her husband gave her a disbelieving look.

  “I really want ya to come,” Tante Lulu said sincerely. “Cain’t ya do it fer me?”

  “Oh, all right,” she snapped. “But I better not be running into Rene, and I sure as hell better not be seeing some bimbo hanging all over him.”

  “He’ll be alone,” Tante Lulu assured her. “And you kin hide from him all you wants.”

  They all smiled then, even Valerie. For some reason, a weight was lifted off her. I’m going back . One last time. Doesn’t matter why. I’m going back .

  “I doan suppose you called Richard Simmons yet?” the old lady asked. “We have a special exercise area set up outside the hall with speakers and everythin’ fer ‘Sweatin’ to the Oldies’.”

  That’s just great.

  Valerie took off the rest of Friday and spent the afternoon and all day Saturday showing off her city to the three visitors. She did all the touristy things she’d never done herself—Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, strolls down Broadway and Fifth Avenue, and, yes, even a little ogling of the underwear-clad cowboy. She’d heard a few women mutter that they’d rather see Raoul naked than that guy out there. Charmaine just grinned at a red-faced Raoul, as if to say, “This naked cowboy is all mine.”

  Valerie really enjoyed herself, seeing the city through their eyes. Oddly, she was the one making the comparisons. The air was sweeter down on the bayou. The flowers were more lush. The people were more genuine. The life was more simple.

  More than once that weekend, she felt as if she were losing her mind. Her world was turning upside down. Everything she believed in and valued seemed suddenly unimportant. Yep, her mind was melting under the barrage of Southern folk.

  More than anything, she kept looking at Charmaine and Raoul and how their love for each other was apparent in everything they did. How they looked at each other often. How they touched each other often.

  How they tried to please each other often. Charmaine thought Raoul walked on water; Raoul thought Charmaine was God’s gift to men. And yet they were so very different from each other—in their looks, lifestyles, dreams, everything.

  “How?” she asked Charmaine when they were in the ladies’ room at a restaurant. “How could two people so different from each other manage a life together?”

  Charmaine shrugged. “We love each other. True love finds a way.”

  That enigmatic answer told Valerie nothing. It was like a Hallmark card. Love conquers all. Which in her mind translated to “Bull!”

  On Sunday afternoon, Valerie was saying good-bye to the three of them in front of their hotel where they were waiting for a limo to take them to the airport. Tante Lulu was sitting on a stone bench next to her.

  “Promise you’ll come to my party next week,” Tante Lulu urged her for about the hundredth time.

  “I promise.”

  The old lady nodded. “Jist one thing I want to know. Do ya love Rene?”

  Valerie didn’t have to think. “Yes, but—”

  “Thass all I need to know.” Tante Lulu squeezed her hand. “Everything’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “Shhh. It’s all in the hands of St. Jude now.”

  CHAPTER TWEENTY

  Happy birthday to me

  Louise Rivard surveyed the grounds of the Veterans Club and all the people who had come to celebrate her eightieth birthday.

  There was a bar and dance floor set up inside, all decorated in a festive manner with a huge banner proclaiming, Happy Birthday Tante Lulu. Outside there were tents all around and rented tables and chairs.

  Highfalutin stuff. All kinds of Cajun foods were offered: crawfish in a dozen different dishes, three kinds of jambalaya, four kinds of gumbo, red beans and rice, boudin, andouille, blackened redfish, catfish fingers, ham and red-eye gravy, buttered grits, a big ol’ mess of collard greens, Limping Susan, Lazy Chicken, dirty rice, fried okra, pralines, beignets, Tipsy Cake, Lost Bread, bread pudding, beaten biscuits, cornbread, even alligator steaks.

  She wore party clothes today—a pretty purple flowered dress she’d bought special for the event at Wal-Mart, matching purple shoes, which pinched her toes and would soon be replaced with slippers once the dancing began, and pearls, which had been a gift from Luc and Sylvie. Charmaine had done her hair up in soft brown waves and applied “subtle” makeup, whatever that meant. Even her finger- and toe-nails had been painted a soft pink color, despite her having wanted “Wanton Red.”

  She’d brought her exercise clothes in a plastic bag, just in case you-know-who showed up. Everyone told her not to get her hopes up, but she’d prayed to St. Jude. He could do
anything.

  Rene’s band, The Swamp Rats, was alternating with another Cajun band in providing entertainment for the crowd. They would probably get rowdy later; she hoped so. What was a Cajun party without a little rowdiness?

  Three hundred people had come to wish her well, most of them good friends. She’d touched many lives over the years, both as a traiteur and as a long-time resident. Most important here were all of her children and grandchildren. That’s how she considered the LeDeux boys and Charmaine, even though she’d never given birth to them herself. She’d been as much a mother to them as any woman could be, having decided long ago that it must have been God’s plan for her.

  And speaking of God’s plan and St. Jude’s miracle working, where was Valerie? She’d promised to come. See, there was Rene coming over to her, dressed in nice tan slacks, a blue button-down shirt and a dark blue blazer. Acceptable wedding attire, in her opinion. Not a tuxedo, but good enough. He smiled at her, but she could see his pain.

  “How you doin’, sugar?” he asked, leaning down to give her a warm hug.

  Looking over his shoulder she saw something, looked up to the sky, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “What did you say?” Rene asked, straightening the collar on her dress.

  “Jus’ that I have a present for you, sweetie.”

  “For me?” He frowned. “It’s your birthday. You’re the one getting presents. Not me.”

  She shook her head. “Uh-uh! At my party, I likes to give presents, too. There’s yer present right over there.”

  Rene turned and gasped.

  It was Valerie. And she was wearing the perfect dress for a birthday/wedding party. It was white.

  Will you marry me, baby . . . RIGHT NOW?

  Rene’s heart constricted, his blood raced, and his eyes burned as he looked at Val across the grounds.

  She was wearing the clingy white “fuck me” dress that she’d worn on his last night in New York. Oh, that was a low, low blow! Especially since it was a humid day, and the dress was clinging like crazy.

  Un-be-freak in ‘-lievable!

  She hadn’t noticed him yet. She seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone, probably Tante Lulu, who had suddenly disappeared from his side. I am going to kill my aunt if she had something to do with this. Doesn’t she know how hard this has been for me? Doesn’t she know that this is going to set me back ?

  He’d never in a million years thought she would come. Not after their breakup. What was she thinking? She was the one who had emphasized the importance of clean breaks. Does she have a cruel streak ? Could she possibly be an “Ice” Breaux after all? No, that can’t be it.

  Still, she looked great.

  Just then, her eyes caught his... and held. They started to walk toward each other, slowly. It gave him time to notice the swirl of her dress around her body, the sheen of her red lipstick, the tears in her eyes. Tears? Why is she crying? I’m the one who should be crying.

  “Val...” he said.

  “Rene...” she said at the same time.

  Don’t make a fool of yourself, Rene. Get your act together and act like a man. “What are you doing... I mean, I never thought... why...”

  “Your aunt made me promise to come. When she came to New York last week.” Her dark eyes darted from side to side. She was as nervous and embarrassed as he was.

  He groaned. “She actually went to New York? Shit! I’m sorry if she bothered you.” I can only imagine my aunt in the city. The Big Apple might not ever recover.

  Val waved a hand. “No problem. I enjoyed having her.”

  “You look good.” And, man, is that an understatement.

  “So do you.”

  I do? I don’t feel good.

  “I hear you’ve been dating.”

  “Huh? Who told you that? Forget it. I can guess.” Is she jealous? Or just making conversation?

  “Truth is, I went out once and it was a disaster.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “She slept over.”

  He almost laughed at the obvious machinations of his dear old aunt. Too bad they were wasted. “Oh, that! It was just Francine. She drove me home ‘cause I was too drunk to drive.”

  “Francine? The lesbian?” Her eyes went wide with surprise.

  He nodded.

  Val smiled as if that made her happy.

  What the hell is going on here? Val has to be here for Tante Lulu. If it was for me, she wouldhave called first. Don’t get your hopes up. Just be casual. Friends. That’s all we are now. Hah! “I bought the house.” Brilliant. Why don’t I talk about the weather?

  She seemed to approve, though why she would or why it would matter couldn’t make its way through his foggy brain.

  “I quit my job,” she told him.

  “Why? What are you going to do now?” Mon Dieu! Will I ever be able to figure out women? She dumps me because her job is so important, rips me to pieces, and now says she quit her job. What the hell is going on here ?

  “I don’t know. It depends...”

  “On what?” His heart was really racing now.

  She had no chance to answer because everyone was being called inside to sing “Happy Birthday” to his aunt. As they walked side by side, Val slipped her hand into his and intertwined their fingers. He glanced over at her but she was staring straight ahead. She looked as scared as he felt. But where their palms were joined, he swore he felt their two hearts beating together.

  For the first time in weeks, he started to feel hopeful. Please, God, please, St. Jude, the whole bunch of you, please. . . please. .. please...

  Tante Lulu was up on the stage with Luc, Sylvie, Remy, Rachel, Tee-John, Charmaine, and Rusty. He supposed he should have been up there, too, but it was too late now. A giant cake with eighty candles were lit, and all three hundred-plus of them began to sing “Happy Birthday.” It was a moment out of time.

  Something they would all remember, and not just because a photographer was snapping away.

  He noticed an odd thing then. All his brothers and Rusty were wearing suits and the ladies had on very respectable dresses, even Charmaine. And there was a priest standing in the background, too.

  When the singing was over and Tante Lulu, with the family’s help, blew out all the candles, she stepped up to the microphone and called for quiet. “Thank you, ever’one, fer comin’ to my party. But I have a surprise fer you today. We’re gonna have us a surprise weddin’. Right here and now.”

  “Huh?” This was news to him. Besides, how did someone have a surprise wedding? Oh, my God!

  Everyone was turning to look at him. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Oh, shit! I just got punked by my family. I hope it’s just a joke.

  “Rene?” Val asked. “What’s going on?” There was panic in her eyes.

  He felt a bit panicked himself. “I think they planned a wedding for us.” Is there a crack in the floor somewhere that I can fall through?

  The crowd was starting to clap and call out congratulations and rebel yells.

  Val made a sort of whimpering sound and huddled closer. Or maybe it was him.

  Meanwhile an aisle was being cleared and chairs were being set up in rows, and the stage was being transformed into an altar. The women suddenly had bouquets in their hands, and Luc and Sylvie’s little girls, dressed in pretty long white dresses, joined them.

  Is it possible? Does my dopey family actually think they can spring a surprise wedding onsomeone?

  Val was just beginning to comprehend what was about to happen. “What?” she shrieked. Turning to Rene, she said, “They can’t do this, can they?”

  Who the hell knows? “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it,” he said to assure her.

  “How?”

  Who the hell knows?

  Everyone was quieting down, staring at them expectantly.

  “Rene?” she prodded. “What should we do?”

  “I don’t know. Give me a chance to think.”

  Tante Lulu was heading toward them wi
th a big smile on her face, carrying a bridal bouquet.

  Charmaine was next to her carrying a bridal veil; her smile was a nervous one. It oughta be. Luc, presumably his best man, the traitor, was carrying a ring box. Luc shrugged at the glower Rene shot his way.

  “Let’s go outside where we can settle this in private,” he suggested. Then maybe we can make a getaway... like to Nebraska.

  Val nodded.

  He put up a hand to his family who were about to follow them. They stopped, but Luc handed him a parchment paper and the ring box. “Just in case,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “Give it your best shot, Bro. You can do it.”

  No, I can’t. I am not that smooth. “Are you people nuts?” he said, shaking his head as he walked outside with Val.

  They went around the side of the building and back behind a giant oak tree. They were hidden from view. She pulled her hand out of his. Not a good sign.

  “How could you, Rene?”

  He put up both hands. “Hey, I’m as surprised as you are.”

  “How could they?”

  Because they are who they are. “I’m sure their intentions were good, but I’m gonna kill them anyhow.”

  She nodded and glanced at the paper in his hand. “What’s that?”

  He opened it and laughed. “Our marriage license, all signed and notarized, legal-like.”

  Being the lawyer she was, he half expected her to say it couldn’t be legal. But she didn’t. Whoo-boy!

  It must be real. We should probably be laughing about this, but I suddenly feel like crying.

  She wasn’t laughing, either. “And that?” She pointed to the old-fashioned jeweler’s box in his other hand.

  He knew what it was without opening it. Inside was a female engagement and wedding ring, along with a man’s wedding ring. “They belonged to my great grandparents.”

  She sighed and touched them in an admiring fashion. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ll go in and announce that it was a joke, that there won’t be a wedding after all.” His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest. Talk about putting a world-class closure on a relationship!

  “Tante Lulu will be so disappointed,” she said.

  Ain’t that the truth? Big deal! “Yeah, well, what else can we do?”