by Sandra Hill
He wasn’t a young Richard Gere. He was better . . .
SAVANNAH WAS mortified to be singled out so publicly. What was Tante Lulu thinking?
And about that “lost that lovin’ feeling’” crap . . . did that mean the old lady was trying to fix her up with some guy? Like one of her extended LeDeux family. Well, she better not. Savannah was off to Alaska, and that was that!
Savannah ducked out of the spotlight when she heard the band start a new song: Joe Cocker’s “Love Lifts Us Up Where We Belong.” What an odd choice for strip music. She was just thinking that she hadn’t heard it since she’d seen An Officer and a Gentleman years ago when, to her surprise, some military guy stepped onto the stage. A hunk in a spiffy blue military uniform. Even from this distance she could see the numerous bars and stars. A stripper? Since when did Hal hire male strippers? Hmmm. Maybe he was trying to attract more of a female clientele.
This day just kept getting stranger and stranger.
Oh, well. It was nothing to her. But why were all the LeDeuxs smiling and clapping?
She gave the guy another glance. He removed his dress hat, exposing a “high and tight” military haircut which didn’t entirely tame the black curls that would rule if worn longer. Wearing a serious expression on his face, he jumped off the stage and headed in her direction, all the while ignoring the hoopla around him. She glanced over her shoulder to see if someone was standing behind her. Nope.
She blinked. Then blinked again.
Slowly, she began to recognize him, and his similarity to her daughter, right down to the beautiful caramel-brown eyes.
“Matt?” she choked out. This was impossible. He was dead. Wasn’t he?
If he isn’t dead, where the hell has he been all these years?
Immediately, she tamped her temper down and rejoiced that he was still alive. Katie’s daddy was still alive!
Oh, no! Has he come to take Katie from me?
He didn’t give her a chance to ask any questions, or turn tail and run. Tossing his hat to the side, he lifted her by the waist so her feet dangled off the floor, and hugged her so tight she could barely breathe. “Oh, God, Savannah, I have missed you so much,” he whispered against her neck.
She pulled back to look at him and smacked him on the chest. “I thought you were dead.” She would have given him an earful, but he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow. And then she was kissing him back.
In between kisses, she said, “You never wrote to me.”
And he replied, “I never got your letters.”
“Your mother is a witch.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“I’ll never forgive you for leaving me all these years.”
“I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Where have you been?”
“POW.”
“Oh, Matt!” she cried.
“Why aren’t you teaching?”
“Lost my job. Going to Alaska.”
“Not anymore.”
“Your mother told me—”
“I know. Forget about her.”
“Were you hurt?”
“I’m okay now.”
“How did you find me?”
“I was searching for a long time, but it was Tante Lulu who found me.”
Tante Lulu! I should have known.
“I love you, Savannah. I never stopped. Do you still love me?”
How could he even ask that question? “Forever.”
Everyone in the restaurant was standing and cheering now, even Hal.
“We need to talk in private, sweetheart,” Matt said, setting her down.
She didn’t care who saw them. She kept touching Matt’s face and shoulders, as if to convince herself that he was really here.
“Mommy!”
Tante Lulu was holding Katie’s hand and walking toward them.
Matt gasped and murmured before dropping to one knee to put himself on Katie’s level, “She’s beautiful.”
So, he already knew. Tante Lulu again, she concluded, but she couldn’t be angry. Instead, she smiled. She could see the love in Matt’s eyes already.
Tante Lulu, dabbing her eyes with a St. Jude handkerchief, leaned down and whispered something in Katie’s ear. Her eyes went wide, then she launched herself at Matt. “Daaa-ddyyy!” With her little legs wrapped around his waist and her arms locked in a death grip around his neck, Matt stood and looked Savannah’s way, mouthing, “Thank you.”
Tante Lulu came up beside Savannah and squeezed her hand. “Mission accomplished.”
“I owe you so much.” Savannah’s voice was raspy with emotion.
“Jist thank St. Jude. He’s the go-to guy.”
It’s true. Men do have only one thing on their minds. Women do, too . . .
REUNIONS WERE sweet, and Matt loved getting to know his daughter, all thanks to one interfering Cajun busybody. And Tante Lulu sure knew how to throw a good party, what she called a fais do do, at her cottage down on the bayou.
As thankful as he was, gratefulness went only so far. For three hours Matt had been repeating “Pleased to meet you’s,” “Yes, that’s a Silver Star,” “No, I couldn’t eat another bite of Peachy Praline Cobbler Cake,” “Another cold beer would be nice,” “Yeah, Afghanistan is a royal SNAFU for the military,” “My plans are up in the air right now, but I’m a jarhead at heart.” Now, he was dying to get out of this monkey suit, and he was more than ready for something else. In fact, he was desperate for something else.
Savannah.
Alone.
Preferably naked.
He didn’t want to be rude, especially after all Tante Lulu had done for him, but enough was enough.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered in Savannah’s ear as he came up behind her. She was standing in front of the St. Jude birdbath talking to Charmaine. Cajun zydeco music provided a lively backdrop to the colorful bayou setting, complete with slow-moving stream, ancient trees with hanging moss, and the overpowering scent of tropical-like flowers.
Tante Lulu had already offered to keep Katie for the night; so, they were all right in that regard. And Katie was ecstatic at the prospect of spending more time with Tee-John’s son Etienne, Charmaine’s daughter, and all her new found LeDeux friends. Right now, they were tossing Cheez Doodles to an alligator, of all things, named Useless, of all things, under the supervision of Remy, whose pet the beast had originally been. Tante Lulu had also given Matt the keys to her car to use temporarily since his own vehicle was back at Fort Dix.
Savannah turned and wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders, her usually dark blue eyes lightened with emotion, the way he remembered them being when they . . . well, he couldn’t think about that now without embarrassing himself. She’d changed from her restaurant “uniform” into a blue and white checked sun dress with thin straps in deference to the heat. Her pretty blond hair was tucked behind her ears, also in deference to the heat. He was pleased to see that she’d taken his engagement ring off the chain around her neck and put it back on her finger, where it belonged. It about killed him that she’d had to pawn it a couple times just to eat.
“What’d you have in mind?” Savannah asked in a sultry voice she seemed to have cultivated in his absence. He couldn’t wait to see what else she’d cultivated.
“I want to make love to you, honey. Every which way I can, and then some,” he told her, and he didn’t care if Charmaine heard him, either. “I have a lot of years to make up for. So, what do you say? Want me to rock your world?”
“That depends. Can I rock your world, too?” she replied saucily, reaching up to kiss, then nip, at his chin.
To hell with chins! He wanted kisses in other places, lots of other places. He pinched her butt and said, “We’ll rock the night away, both of us. Guar-an-teed, as the Cajuns say.”
“Holy Sac-au-lait! I’m gettin’ turned on just listenin’ to you two,” Charmaine said, with a laugh. Then, she yelled, “Rusty! Let’s go home
!”
Matt smiled and tucked Savannah into his side with an arm over her shoulders. “I hope you brought that Daisy Duke outfit with you. I have plans.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Hey, I have one of those outfits at home, believe it or not,” Charmaine told them.
As if I care! And, yeah, he would believe it or her. Charmaine was the first to call herself “a bimbo with class.”
When Rusty answered his wife’s call and stepped up beside her, she smiled at him. “Guess what, sweetie? When we get home, we’re gonna play a game.”
Rusty’s groan indicated he wasn’t too excited about the suggestion.
“Lil’ Abner and Daisy Mae.”
Now Rusty was excited. He smiled, a lazy twitch of the lips, and winked at his wife.
Savannah sighed. Now, she was excited.
Charmaine slanted her eyes with a sideways glance at her husband and licked her Screw-Me Red, probably Botoxed lips, real slow.
“Darlin’,” Rusty drawled out. “I am so good at games.”
Matt was getting turned on watching them all. Time to get this show on the road. Grabbing Savannah’s hand, he led her over to Tante Lulu, who was at the folding table still piled high with food, everything from shrimp étouffée to crawfish and shrimp gumbo to lazy bread to sweet pralines. Pitchers of sweet tea, beer, and soft drinks on ice.
“We’re going to leave now,” Savannah said, giving the old lady a hug. “Thank you so much for keeping Katie overnight. We’ll be back in the morning to pick her up.”
“My pleasure, sweetie. When you get here, we’ll start makin’ plans fer the weddin’.”
We, Matt thought. Uh-oh.
“You’ve done enough,” Savannah was quick to say as she squeezed his hand, sharing his dismay. “We’ll probably just elope or have a courthouse wedding.” She glanced at him. “We really haven’t discussed details yet.”
In fact, they’d had almost no time alone at all since he’d arrived at the strip club. Dammit!
“You cain’t do that!” Tante Lulu declared. “You gotta have a priest, or a preacher if yer not Catholic, ta seal the deal, proper like. Doesn’t hafta be a big weddin’. Mebbe jist yer family and friends, Savannah. Matt’s family and friends. And all us LeDeuxs. The reception hall at our Lady of the Bayou Church kin handle up ta two hundred people, in a squeeze.”
Matt stiffened at the idea of his parents at his wedding. “I don’t have any family to speak of, and my friends are mostly military, scattered around the world.”
“Two hundred people!” Savannah squeaked out. “I don’t have any family, and I don’t have any close friends.”
Matt’s anger rose once again, knowing she’d been forced to avoid friendships because of his parents’ threats. Hard to have a girlfriend, or guy friend, over for a drink when you’re living in a car. He blew out a frustrated exhale and said, “I wouldn’t invite my parents to a dog fight, let alone my wedding.”
“Now, now,” Tante Lulu said, “they’re still yer family. Remember, it was St. Jude who brought you two t’gether, and he’s all ’bout forgiveness.”
“Not gonna happen,” Matt insisted.
“Don’tcha be worryin’ none. I’m plannin’ on havin’ a little sit-down with yer mother on Sunday after Mass. A come-ta-Jesus talk, ya might say.”
Oh, shit!
“I invited her ta lunch at Big Butch’s Crab Shanty.”
Oh, shit!
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall at that meeting,” Savannah whispered to him, a mischievous grin teasing at her lips. “If anyone can straighten a person out, Tante Lulu can.”
Or drive them bat shit crazy. “Go for it!” he conceded, “but I’ll tell you up front, I won’t let them ruin a happy day. My dad’s not so bad, but my mother could make a scene.”
“Listen, boy, some folks have their minds mixed up and permanently set, like concrete. What we gotta do is chisel away.”
Good luck with that. My mother is chisel-proof. Matt rolled his eyes. “She would stand out like a sore thumb among all you good folks.”
Tante Lulu nodded. “Like pickles in a praline.”
“Good example,” Matt said. He’d love to see his mother’s face if Tante Lulu made that comparison to her face.
“I know how ta turn a pickle inta a pecan. Leave it all ta me.”
And they did, which was probably a big mistake, but Matt had other things on his mind.
“One more thing,” Tante Lulu said.
He couldn’t suppress his groan. Savannah choked back a laugh.
“Here.” Tante Lulu handed him a key.
He frowned with confusion. “You already gave me the car key.”
“This is another key.” Tante Lulu waggled her penciled-in eyebrows at him. “I got you two a room at the Hubba Hubba Ding Ding Motel. I coulda reserved you a room at the Marriott or Comfort Suites in Houma, but the Hubba is closer, only ’bout ten minutes away.”
Matt liked the idea of closer. A lot.
“Plus, they got vibrating beds at the Hubba, I hear. You know, the kind ya put in a quarter and it shakes ya up like a milkshake.”
No, Matt didn’t know, but he was game for anything if it involved him and Savannah, horizontal, naked, etc.
He grinned.
Savannah blushed.
Tee-John stepped up then and looped an arm over Tante Lulu’s little shoulders. “Auntie! You never rented me any motel rooms.”
“Thass ’cause you was boinkin’ every girl up and down the bayou.”
“Boinkin’?” Tee-John laughed and put a hand over his heart. “I am wounded.”
“Yer gonna be wounded if Celine gets her hands on you. Where is she anyways?”
“In the house. Peeing. For about the tenth time since we got here. Plus, she’s feeling nauseous.”
“I got herbs fer that. Do you think she’d take ground-up gator testicles mixed with frog spit and a little Pepto fer color?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly!” Tee-John said with a straight face. “But let’s not tell her the ingredients . . . until later.”
On that note, Matt and Savannah escaped . . . uh, left the party. Matt couldn’t stop kissing Savannah as they walked around the side of the cottage leading to the detached one-car garage. He pressed her up against the side of the cottage and kissed her until his knees about gave way, and he had really strong knees. She kissed him while he attempted to raise the old fold-up wooden door on the garage, and he almost dropped the blasted thing on her toes.
They stopped kissing then as they gaped at their transport. A huge tank of a car, so big it almost touched the sides of the garage. It was a 1960s era lavender Chevy Impala convertible. There was a St. Jude wobble head on the dashboard and a bumper sticker that read, “Not so close. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“We should have known better when she told us her car had a name . . . Lillian,” Savannah said.
“You named your car Betty,” he pointed out.
“That’s different.”
It took some maneuvering to get the vehicle out of the garage, but once on the way, they soon discovered one of the advantages of these old cars. Bench seats. The engineers who invented bucket seats hadn’t taken into account the benefits to a guy of one-arm driving with his honey sitting close. Real close. He would bet his back pay that Tante Lulu knew the value of those bed-like seats from experience back in the day. And maybe even later in her outrageous life. The old bird had game.
He was cruising down the one-lane road, driving with his left hand, his right arm around Savannah’s shoulders, hip to hip, Frank Sinatra crooning on the eight-track tape deck. With the rag top up, they were cocooned in their own private world, unseeing in the dusky light of early evening of the quaint countryside era passing by, redolent of another era. Crab shacks and one-pump gas stations. Neat cottages of pastel stucco. Homemade signs advertising, “Fresh Eggs. Sweet Butter. Okra.” An occasional derelict auto or kitchen sink sitting in someone’s front yard. A sofa on the front
porch.
When Savannah put a hand on his thigh, he almost ran off the road. He hadn’t engaged in foreplay in a car since he was a teenager.
When his right hand happened to meander downward and touch her breast, she moaned. A sweet, poignant sound that acted as the most potent aphrodisiac. Not that his libido needed any jumpstart.
When Savannah raised her head and kissed his neck, pleasure rippled over all the fine hairs of his body like a warm breeze on cool grass.
When he kissed the top of her head and said in a voice husky with emotion, “I love you, Savannah. You are what kept me going in the hard days of captivity.”
“Oh, Matt!” He felt her tears against his neck and hugged her tighter. “I never stopped loving you, even when I thought you were . . . gone.” He could tell she didn’t want to say the word dead.
“No sad times tonight,” he ordered with a mock growl.
By the time they arrived at the garish Hubba Hubba Ding Ding Motel five minutes later, Matt was thankful that, key in hand, they didn’t have to face any people at a registration desk. Not just because he and Savannah were loopy with lust for each other, but because he doubted he could have put two coherent words together, not even, “Room! Now!”
He had trouble unlocking the door with his shaking hands, but it finally opened, and he was vaguely aware of a dim light coming from a bedside lamp. They stumbled into the room, slamming the door behind them. Quicker than he could say “G.I. Joe With a Hard-on,” he had her backed up against the wall. At the same time, he was kissing her voraciously, even as he removed his jacket and stepped out of his shoes. Thank God for multi-tasking!
She was no better, undoing his shirt so fast buttons were flying.
He undid the back zipper on her dress.
She undid the zipper on his pants.
For a moment, Matt saw an explosion of stars behind his closed eyelids. G.I. Joe was going to end this game before it began if he didn’t get his act together. He inhaled sharply, then exhaled.
When he opened his eyes, Savannah was staring at him with sex-hazy eyes. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing as heavily as he was. Even better, he saw that Savannah’s dress had fallen to her waist with the straps hanging from her arms. She was wearing no bra, and her breasts were perfect twin globes the size of half oranges. The nipples were erect against the backdrop of rose-hued aureoles.
