by Sabrina York
She checked out his bag as they headed toward her car. “Did you find everything you needed? That bag doesn’t look overly stuffed.”
“I picked up a few more flannel shirts and a couple of pullover sweaters—I have all the jeans I needed and left Minnesota wearing my coat and boots.” He shrugged. “I’m good—although I didn’t think about gloves. I could use a pair.”
“The booth I found had a nice selection of men’s leather gloves. It’s just ahead.”
Mack picked up a pair of gloves and they headed to her rental. His mouthed gaped when she opened the trunk to add his bags. “You bought all that in the short time we were in there?”
She winked at him. “My shopping efficiency is exceeded only by my fabulous taste. Now let’s go find that diner. I’m starved for some good Cajun cooking.”
He put the diner’s address in his phone’s GPS and they headed out, while she explained the difference between jambalaya and etouffee.
Mack consulted his phone’s screen. “Take a right on the next street. How does a girl from Mississippi know so much about Cajun food?”
“Biloxi’s not far from the Louisiana border. We have several excellent Cajun restaurants there. My mom is from New Orleans and insists that most of them lean toward Creole cooking rather than Cajun. According to her and my grandmother, it’s two completely different styles.”
“And is she a good cook?”
“My mom?” Natalie hooted with laughter. “By the time I was six I’d memorized the entire McDonald’s menu and knew that I preferred thin crust over pan pizza. Mom’s interior design business took precedence over cooking, other than the occasional pancakes or canned biscuits and scrambled eggs for breakfasts. Now my grandmother—” She turned at the street light ahead of them. “That woman can cook. It’s difficult for her to get around in the kitchen now that she’s in her eighties. I’d give her seafood gumbo a solid four out of four stars, for sure.”
“Did she teach you?”
“I’ve collected quite a few recipes from her over the years.” Her mind took her instantly to the last meal she’d cooked for her husband. “Craig loved my shrimp and sausage pasta—something I came up with myself—put my own spin on it, you know? Oh look, there’s the diner.” She filled a spot just vacated by a large SUV.
Mack got out of the car and stared at the diner. Its large painted glass window boasted Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s in bold lettering.
A lovely young woman with long wavy hair and big brown eyes greeted them warmly at the door. “Welcome to Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s! My name’s Ava and I highly recommend today’s special. Emmelia has cooked up a batch of her crawfish corn chowder, with fresh Louisiana crawfish, of course. It’s delicious, but you can order anything off of our menu.”
After a quick perusal of the menu, Natalie glanced at Mack. “I have two questions: do you trust me and do you have any food allergies? I don’t want you blowing up like a balloon fish on me.”
He laughed. “Yes, and no, in that order.”
She ordered the special for herself and the seafood sampler tray for Mack, so he could experience a little of everything.
The owner, Pops LaCour, came by to introduce himself, explained that he and his wife had been friends with the Brunson’s for over twenty years.
They left the diner an hour later, their bellies full, and completely at ease with each other.
Mac followed ‘Nat’ upstairs to her room, pleased that she’d asked him to use her preferred nickname. He deposited the armload of bags on her bed and backed slowly towards the door. “Thanks again for the ride.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. Hey, when I called Beth earlier, she talked me into going along with them on that hayride tonight. Are you going?”
He hadn’t considered it before, but if Nat would be there … “Maybe I will.”
She looked at her ringing phone. “That’s my mom. I better get it or she’ll send the police to my door. She’s a worrier.”
He lifted one hand in a farewell. “Later.”
Inside his room, he removed all traces of packaging materials from his new clothes and headed downstairs with them. He found Ms. Beth straightening up in the living area. “Can you point me in the direction of a washer and dryer?”
She led him through a door at the opposite end of the kitchen. “Got some new duds?”
“Yeah, I tagged along with Natalie. I believe we’re both ready for the cold front.”
“It’ll be chilly by tonight, but downright frigid by tomorrow evening. Poor Drew has been wrapping pipes and making sure the generators are up to speed in case of power outages. We cook and heat water with gas but our water well runs on electricity. Occasionally, we’ll have a situation with frozen pipes.”
She started his batch of laundry washing and closed the door behind them. “If you want to come along on the hayride with us tonight, our van leaves here at 6:30 sharp.”
“I’m considering it.” He went up to his room, tried to read, but his mind kept flashing to thoughts of Natalie and her story. Life could certainly throw curve balls at any moment in time. His own story had proven that. Mack slammed the book shut and tossed it on the nightstand, perused the collection of coffees and cocoas. He splayed one hand over his full stomach, and turned away.
He headed downstairs, put one batch of his laundry to dry and a second batch washing then headed outside to offer Drew assistance with storm preparations.
Mack trailed Drew into the kitchen two hours later, still laughing from the lodge owner’s recently delivered punch-line to a joke.
Beth looked up from pulling an oversized tray of cookies from the oven. “What’s so funny?”
Engulfed by the tantalizing aroma of baked deliciousness, Mack turned to her. “Your husband’s been entertaining me with his vast repertoire of Cajun jokes.”
Beth placed the tray on a rack to cool and popped another into the hot oven. “He brings in the laughs at poor old Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s expense, don’t you, old man?”
“His timing and delivery are impeccable—as is the accent,” Mack offered. “I keep telling him he could have his own vlog and go viral.”
“And I told him that sounds like something that requires a trip to the doctor, so no thank you!” Drew planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek then pulled back. “Mack here was just telling me that Minnesota has its own version of Boudreaux and Thibodeaux, but it’s an old married couple named Ole and Lena.”
Beth laughed. “Speaking of old married couples, did you and Nat visit Pops and Lena Mae’s diner today?”
Mack rubbed his belly. “Sure did, and thanks for the recommendation. That was some mighty good eating.”
“Speaking of good eating—” Drew reached for a tray of cookies.
Lana slapped her husband’s hand away and lifted her finger in warning. “Doc said to watch your sugar intake, Andrew Madison!”
Mack slapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “The situation must be serious. She pulled the big-gun-middle-name on you.”
“Serious, my big toe! My sugar is just fine,” Drew grumbled. He waited until she turned her back on him to steal a cookie and hit the door.
“They’ll be cutting off that big toe one day when you lose circulation in it!” Beth called out as he scurried from the room. She released her breath in a huff, faced Mack and shook her head. “I’ve been struggling for five years to keep his borderline diabetic status from crossing over into a full-blown case of insulin dependency. He’s a hard sell, that’s for darn sure.”
Mack leaned over the cookies and breathed in the aroma. “He says your baking makes it impossible to resist, and I’m beginning to see why. I hope these are for us?”
“I’m making goodies for after the hayride tonight.” She used a spatula to lift a cookie from the tray and handed it to him on a napkin. “I call these my loaded chocolate mint cookies. Nothing’s better with a cup of hot cocoa—warms and satisfies at the same time.”
He bit into it, hi
s mouth exploding with a combination of chocolate, crunchy peppermint and pecan pieces mingling with the buttery sweet goodness of the chewy cookie. “Poor Drew—” he groaned. “Now I know what he’s talking about.” He finished the rest of it off in one bite. “It’s probably a combination of your vigilance and him working hard around here that keeps him healthy.”
She continued sliding the cooled cookies from one tray to a large container. “Yes, but when he retires for good, I told him he’ll have to join a gym or change his eating habits. He insists that either one of those would take all the fun out of living, so what’s the point?” Beth lowered her spatula and stared ahead. “But I surely can’t imagine my life without him in it.” She straightened and lifted her chin, as though shaking off any morose thoughts, and continued her work.
He remembered his new clothes and headed for the laundry room until she stopped him.
“It’s all tended to. Everything’s folded or hung in your closet.” She looked up from her work. “It’s the least I could do since you helped out Drew. Maybe we should be paying you to stay here.”
“Thank you, but I sleep better at night if I keep busy during the day.”
Beth smiled at him. “Remember, the van leaves at 6:30—I’d hate to see you miss out on an opportunity to have some fun.”
“I’ll be there.” He headed for the stairway, his step a little lighter. If Nat planned to go, he would too.
3
The carolers finished their final rendition of “Jingle Bells” as an older couple with three small children stood in the doorway of their home and clapped. Dozens of farewells later, the group headed back to the sixteen-foot trailer lined on both sides with rectangular bales of hay, layered with various quilts and blankets.
Natalie stood back, patiently waited her turn to mount as Beth explained the last couple’s current situation.
“Their only daughter and her husband were taken from them in a boating accident this past summer and they’re raising their three grandchildren. It’s such a tragedy.” She clucked her tongue. “No life insurance, either. The Guidry’s were making it fine on their retirement income. But Mr. James has since had to take a job as a security officer down at the court house.”
Natalie frowned. “The children get social security checks, surely.”
“They refuse to touch any of it—put everything straight into savings for them. Ms. Mary has her hands full with the two youngest ones but insists she wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Natalie turned back, studied the modest wood frame home on a corner lot—well-maintained from the looks of it. Someone had found the time to adorn the porch with colored lights and a bevy of Christmas decorations. She knew that kind of loss, respected the effort it took to keep the Christmas spirit for their grandchildren.
“You coming, Nat?”
She turned, faced a somber Mack who held his hand out to help her up onto the platform. She took his hand and stepped up. The two of them occupied the last two seats on a single hay bale.
Mack pulled the heavy quilt over their legs. “Sad story, huh? Now I know why Drew said they were saving the best house for last.”
“Those poor babies.” It took an effort not to release the words on a sob. “It’s their first Christmas without parents.” She shook her head. “Almost makes me glad Craig and I didn’t have children.” Almost. If they had, at least she’d have a part of him left, but to raise a child alone …
“Single parenting can’t be easy.”
She blinked at his insightful comment. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“But did you see their little faces light up when they saw those gifts? It’s like my old gramps used to say—you haven’t seen Christmas until you’ve seen it through the eyes of a child.”
“No doubt.” How different would her life be if she had a child or two? Deep in contemplation, his gentle nudge to her shoulder shook her from her thoughts. She glanced up into his concerned face. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“I didn’t want you to get lost in thoughts of what might have been. I’ve learned when I do that, I sometimes miss out on what’s happening now.”
Natalie allowed herself another minute to detach herself from those feelings before she rejoined the singing for the ride back to the lodge. She listened to other conversations around her, but kept her thoughts and comments to herself until they reached their destination.
The Brunson’s big yellow dog bounded off the porch, his tail wagging gleefully. “There’s old Duke—our welcoming committee!” Drew called out.
Mack exited first and bent over to ruffle Duke’s coat. He straightened and extended his hand to Natalie. “Let me help you off the trailer.”
She smiled and stepped down, pulled her hand out of his as soon as her foot hit solid ground. Beth invited everyone into the Lodge for cookies and hot cocoa. Some of the carolers begged off, claiming to have things to tend to, either pertaining to the approaching cold front or other family gatherings. Others joined them inside. A few left shortly after, armed with goody bags of cookies.
“Who’s joining us out back at the fire pit tonight?” Drew called to the guests. “It could be our last chance before Christmas. This should be the last mild evening we have for the next several days.”
“I’m there!” Mack turned his smiling face to Natalie. “How about you, Nat? You up for some S’mores around the fire pit?”
She placed her hand over her belly. “I’m too full for S’mores, but I’m always up for a good campfire.”
Drew had the pit logs blazing within minutes while a dozen people circled chairs around the iron pit on the stone paved patio. The colored Christmas lights along the roofline competed with the dancing light of the flames, casting a cozy glow over the faces in the circle. The lights were dim enough not to interfere with the display of stars scattered against the velvety blackness of the night sky.
Mack occupied the vacant chair beside Natalie. She studied his handsome face in the firelight, the blue of his eyes darkened by shadows. “You know my story, Mack—so what’s yours?”
He released his breath in a rush. “Not much to tell. I chose an Army career over college out of high school. I left when we lost my dad to a massive stroke six years later. I’m the only child and mom needed me home.”
“And …” Natalie prodded, wanting more.
“And that’s it. I’ve cared for my mom, worked, and dug us both out of the snow for the last twelve Minnesota winters.”
A quick mental calculation put his age at or around thirty-six. “No time for a wife or girlfriend?”
“I’ve had two fiancées. The first one called it off—decided she could do better. I called the second one off after realizing I’d been going through the motions. She deserved better—deserved someone who truly loved her.” He stretched out his long legs. “I haven’t met anyone else who’s made me want to put myself out there like that again.” He faced her. “Now you know I’ve never been married and I know you’ve got a soft heart when it comes to children.” He paused a few seconds. “How long were you and your husband together?”
She took a deep breath and dove in. “We met our senior year of college, dated for two years, and married for eight.” She blinked several times. “The accident happened a year ago—from today.”
“Oh.” He opened his mouth, closed it again. “I’m sorry for—”
She raised her hand to cut him off. “I started this line of questioning—it’s only fair. Besides, I’m better than I thought I’d be at this point.” She leaned forward in her chair. “I still miss Craig so badly, but just after it happened—I couldn’t imagine life without him.”
“Anyone who truly loves their spouse must feel that way.”
She settled back in her chair, crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I struggled with it, to the point that anger began to replace pain.”
“That’s a universal stage in the grieving process. Everyone
experiences anger at their loved ones for leaving them.”
She placed one hand on her chest. “My anger was with God. How dare he take away my husband? How dare he? I was furious and ready to toss out all my spiritual beliefs. Then I heard some preacher say that God tests us by bringing storms into our lives. Whether it’s in the form of a death, or temptation, or coveting—He will test us in order to assess our commitment to Him.”
Mack nodded. “I believe that. I’ve seen it happen many times. I’ve seen some stand up to it, and others fall on their faces. Men and women who had everything they needed in life then lost it all for various reasons—everything from addictions to adultery. There’s no winner.”
Natalie faced him. “Right? It’s easy to think you’re a good person—a Godly person, even—if everything has always gone your way. It’s only when people are tested that the truth is revealed.”
“So that was your ‘Aha’ moment?”
“I guess so—that’s when I began to pull myself up a day at a time. Every morning I’d wake and tell myself to identify at least one good thing about each day. Every night I’d think back and find something and realized those good things had been there all along.” Her gaze locked on to his. “That’s when I began to live again.”
He reached over as though he were going to place his hand on hers, stopped in mid-motion and clasped his two hands together instead, staring into the fire. “I’m certainly glad you did.”
Duke sidled over to her, looking for some attention. She leaned forward in her chair and cradled the dog’s large golden head in her two hands. “How old are you, boy?”
Mack cleared his throat. “Drew told me he’s twelve years old.”
“Well, let’s hope you have a few more left in you, Duke.” The dog edged closer to her to lay his head on her thigh. She leaned forward and hugged him. “You are just a loveable guy, aren’t you?”
“I could be with the right person.”
