Acadian Waltz

by Alexandrea Weis

  “I think he already knows something is wrong.” I sighed as I broke a piece off the omelet with my fork. “But John won’t be the real problem.”

  “Claire?” Jean Marc asked, turning back to me.

  “When she finds out I’m canceling her dream wedding, she’ll kill me.”

  “Well, she’ll have to go through me first, darlin’.” He stepped to my side and kissed my cheek. “And your Uncle Jack.”

  “What do we tell Uncle Jack and your mother?”

  “Mother will be overjoyed. As for Jack?” Jean Marc winked at me. “I think he already suspects. Once you get rid of that fiancé of yours, we can tell everyone, officially. Then, we will deal with Claire.”

  “You will deal with Claire.” I made the sign of the cross over him with my fork. “And may God have mercy on your soul.”

  * * *

  After the sun came up, I returned to the main house. When I opened the back door and stepped into the kitchen, a wave of smoke accosted me. At first, I thought something was burning, but then I saw the culprit sitting by the kitchen table smoking a cigarette.

  “You’re sleeping with him,” Henri clearly pronounced as the smoke billowed around his head.

  He was grinning at me with the cigarette smoldering in his left hand while his right hand was still curled up, useless, against his side.

  I walked slowly over to the table. “Look who’s made a miraculous recovery.”

  “Only for you, dear Nora.” He took another puff on his cigarette. “As far as the rest of the house is concerned, I’m still weak and feeble Henri, all right?”

  “What makes you think I would go along with that?” I asked, taking the cigarette from his hand.

  “You’re screwing my brother while still engaged to another man.” He waved his good hand at me. “So don’t pass judgment on me, little one. Besides, what would your mother say? Claire would die if she thought you were involved with Jean Marc. You know how she hates all of us Gaspards.”

  “Why show me this?” I put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table.

  “I need you to play along with my little disability.” He pulled at his right hand. “At least some of it is true, but up here….” He tapped at his head with his left hand. “That’s intact.”

  “Why should I play along?”

  “You know how Jean Marc feels about me. First sign I can be on my own, he’ll pitch me out of here faster than a pelican can snag a fish from the water. I need to stay a while longer, get stronger, and collect some funds. You can help me. Keep Jean Marc distracted while I get ready.”

  I placed my hand on my hip and stared at him. “Did you have something to do with that girl’s death?”

  “You know Henri ain’t no murderer. I like the ladies, Nora. I don’t kill them. But the men I owe, they’re the ones that sliced her up.”

  “The men you owe?”

  “My backers.” He paused and then chuckled at me. “Nora, you've lived in New Orleans all your life, but you have no idea what really goes on inside of the French Quarter. The cults that exist there are a powerful attractant to the weak-minded. There are a few men that organize those cults, collect dues from the followers, and recruit new initiates from the homeless teenagers that flock to the city thanks to Anne Rice and her vampire novels. Kids come to New Orleans seeking vampires and voodoo. These guys I work for give it to them.”

  I took a wary step back from him. “What are you talking about?”

  “My backers are the ones who set me up in my group. They brought me some of my members and spread the word around town that I was something special. I made them a lot of money, and got them boys or girls for their other interests.”

  “What the hell are you involved with, Henri?”

  “Can you see why I need to hide out here? I’ll eventually have to get out of town, but I need to stay here until I’m ready. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if the men I work for think I’m like Jell-O, then I’m safe. As soon as anyone finds out I have all my wits about me and can talk, I’ll be killed.”

  “But what about the stuff you drank and the seizures you had? You couldn’t have faked that.”

  “A simple miscalculation on my part. I was supposed to appear enlightened for my followers. I was even going to tell them you were an evil spirit and chase you out of our meeting that night.” He scratched his head. “In the right amounts that little drug I’m supplied with can make you seem very omnipotent.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. The men I work for get it from some old Indian in New Mexico.”

  I looked over at Henri; my head was still reeling from the information he had just given me. “The girl, the one who died. She drank that stuff?”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. My backers use it to break in new additions to their stables; if the boy or girl rebels too much, the doctor cuts them up.”

  “The doctor? Jesus, Henri, from what I heard a precision surgeon mutilated that girl. Who are these people you work for?”

  “Men who will kill anyone who gets in their way.” He struggled to get out of his chair, and then with his good hand he pulled himself to a standing position. “Now you know my secret and I know yours. Keep Jean Marc occupied for another week, help me collect some money, and keep your mouth shut about this. If my brother finds out, he’ll just call the cops and I’ll be hauled away. Mother will be devastated and eventually my associates will find me…and kill me. So you see, I have to keep up this act until I can get away. All right?”

  “I don’t know, Henri.” I examined the long scar along his right cheek and thought of what Jean Marc had told me.

  He saw me starring at the scar and quickly turned from me. “The resemblance between me and my brother is rather uncanny, isn’t it, Nora? Imagine if someone came here not knowing I had a twin. What would they do to Jean Marc if they thought he was me?” He paused for a moment and then added, “I suggest you think about this.”

  That burning knot returned to my stomach with a vengeance. I stood riveted to my spot as Henri made his way out of the kitchen, dragging his right foot alongside him. I listened as he slowly shuffled down the hall to his bedroom in the parlor.

  “Apparently, the dangerous tiger has awakened,” I mumbled, remembering Jean Marc’s warning. “And he’s going to eat us all alive.”

  Chapter 23

  Four hours later, I walked into Henri’s room to find Ms. Marie ladling gumbo down his throat. I almost burst into laughter when I saw the napkin secured as a bib around Henri’s neck as his mother lovingly spooned mouthfuls of seafood gumbo to her son.

  “Ah, he’s looking much better today, Nora T,” Ms. Marie cooed as she gave the last spoonful of gumbo to Henri. “His color, she is back.”

  “Yes, he does appear full of it this morning,” I commented, giving Henri a sly smile.

  Ms. Marie cleared the soup bowl and the bib out of Henri’s way. “I’ll leave you two to do your therapy.” She turned to Henri and kissed his cheek. “Mind Nora T, Henri.” Then she placed the soup bowl on a large wooden tray and carried it out of the room.

  I waited until the parlor doors were securely closed before I approached Henri’s hospital bed.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely,” he replied and wiped his left hand across his mouth. “Mother hasn’t paid this much attention to me since I was seven and had the chicken pox.”

  “You’ll break that poor woman’s heart when you leave here and she finds out you were never as sick as you pretended. She may never forgive you.”

  “Mother?” He snickered as he sat up in his bed and made himself comfortable. “She’d forgive the devil himself.”

  “What about Jean Marc?”

  “Now, he could pose something of a problem for me.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Thought about our little situation anymore?”

  “Of course.” I sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Can’t think of anything else. But before I agree to your
scheme, I want some guarantees, or I swear I’ll turn you into the cops myself.”

  “Oh my, little Nora Kehoe has grown some balls.” The smile faded from his thin lips. “What do you want?”

  “That when you leave you will never return to Gaspard House, Manchac, or the state of Louisiana. I want to know that your family is free of you forever. No one will ever hear from you or see you again. Agreed?”

  He looked me over with his cold eyes for a moment and his smile returned. “You drive a hard bargain, girl. This is my birthright, my land; I may want to bring my children back to this place one day.”

  “I could throw in your having a vasectomy as part of our agreement, but I think it’s safe to say that any woman ever knocked up by the likes of you will never want you around to raise children.”

  “I could change.”

  “Do we have a deal or not?” I asked, raising my voice to him.

  He hesitated for a moment and then nodded his head. “You’re just like Jean Marc. He tried to keep me away.”

  “Yes, I know about that.” I pointed to his right cheek. “If you ever cross me, Henri, I’ll be just as ruthless as your brother. I will tell the cops everything, and then I’ll find out who you’ve been working for and I tell them everything, too.”

  “Vindictive little bitch, aren’t you?” He rubbed his right hand with his left. “Is my brother worth all this?”

  “I’m protecting him and your mother.” I paused and grinned. “You’re just like all the stories I’ve heard about your Uncle Etienne, Henri. Bad to the bone, and you don’t give a rat’s ass about anyone else but yourself.”

  He leaned back on his bed and folded his arms across his chest, looking smug. “I guess that means you’re gonna help me.”

  “Yes, Henri, I will help you. But once you leave town, I never want to see you again.”

  He snorted with disgust. “Trust me, once I’m out of here I’ll never come back. Let Jean Marc keep this hellhole.”

  I opened the parlor doors. “Your therapist should be here shortly. I’ll check back with you,” I stated loud enough for the rest of the house to hear.

  I returned to my room and took a few moments to cool down from my conversation with Henri. Thinking ahead to my next uncomfortable confrontation, I flopped down on the bed. I groaned as I reached for my purse on the night table next to me. I retrieved my cell phone and stared at it, dreading what was about to happen.

  “Oh, to hell with it.” I dialed the number to John’s cell phone.

  “Nora!” he shouted into the phone. “Where in the hell have you been? Why haven’t you called me? It’s been two days since I’ve talked to you. Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

  “Yes, John, I know it’s been a while since we have talked, but I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy? Do you know what I have been going through these past few days? Worrying about you taking care of that murder suspect in that house with only an old man to protect you?”

  “Jean Marc’s around,” I assured him.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? When are you going to come home? I need you here with me. We have things to plan. Father Delacroix has called me three times wanting to schedule the rest of our Pre-Cana sessions. The dress maker needs another fitting, and your mother is screaming about the guest list.”

  “Yes, I heard.” I sighed, sensing the difficulty of the task ahead. “John, I already spoke to Mother. I know about all the wedding stuff, and to tell you the truth.…” I held my breath for a moment. “I really don’t care.”

  “You don’t care? What is it you don’t care about, Nora? Is it the wedding, or is it something else, like me? Is that what you’re saying?” He paused. “Or is it someone else? It’s that Jean Marc asshole, right? Is he talking you out of the wedding? Goddamn it! I told you that man wanted you, and then you go up there and put yourself at his mercy.”

  “I’m not at his mercy,” I asserted. “For one thing, I’ve known Jean Marc a hell of a lot longer than you. He’s my friend, and I’m fed up with hearing from you and my mother about who I should associate with.”

  “What in the hell is wrong with you? Why are you snapping at me? I knew I should never have let you go up there.”

  My grip tightened on my cell phone. “Never let me come up here? John, I don’t need your permission to do anything. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants and what she doesn’t want. And the one thing I don’t want right now is your bullshit!”

  “Nora, do not speak to me in that manner. You’re not being rational! I’m coming to get you.”

  “No, John, I don’t want you here, and I am being rational. For the first time in a long time, I’m speaking my mind! This is the real me.”

  There was a tense silence on the other end of the line. “Nora, I know you have been under a lot of stress lately, and I figured some time away would help you, but—”

  “John, didn’t you hear what I said? It’s not the stress, it’s not the wedding, it’s me.” I paused and summoned my courage. “I can’t marry you,” I proclaimed.

  “Can’t or won’t?” he quickly asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Think very carefully about this, Nora,” John warned, his voice seething with rage. “I’m willing to give you time to sort things out. You get over whatever is going on with you while you’re in Manchac, but when you come home all of this erratic behavior better be out of your system. I will not change our plans. We either get married in September, or we do not get married at all.”

  “Then we don’t get married at all,” I calmly affirmed.

  “I will not accept that as your final answer. You need some time to think about this,” he growled.

  “I’ve made my decision, John. I’m sorry, I really am, but I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to live by your plans anymore. I just want to live. Good-bye, John.” I hung up my cell phone.

  Naturally, the phone started ringing again immediately after I hung up. I checked the caller ID and found it no surprise that the number shown was John’s. I shook my head, turned off my phone, and returned it to my purse.

  I sat on my bed, enjoying the uplifting sensation of being free of John and unburdened of all the silly wedding plans. My thoughts then drifted to the reason why I had canceled my wedding, and to the man I had turned my life upside down for; or perhaps turned my life right side up for.

  Jean Marc’s face and body filled my mind, and just when my memories of our night together began to get really interesting, a knock on my bedroom door startled me.

  “Nora T,” Uncle Jack called out from the other side of the heavy cypress door. “Your mama’s on the house phone.”

  When I opened the door, I found Uncle Jack holding his blue cap in his hands, frowning at me.

  “She sounds tres boudé. She keeps yellin’ at me in French.”

  “I’m sure she is mad. I just told John that the wedding is off. He’s probably already been on the phone to her.”

  Uncle Jack smiled at me, but his blue eyes still had a hint of uncertainty in them. “You wanna tell me why you called off the weddin’?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, Uncle Jack.”

  “Jean Marc, he knows about the weddin’?”

  “He knows.” I stepped into the hallway. “He’s the reason the wedding is off.”

  Uncle Jack placed the blue cap back on his head. “Guess I’ll get started on them trellises Ms. Marie wants for her rose garden.” He stepped over to the stairway behind him. “I ‘spect you’ll be stayin’ on here instead of goin’ back to the city.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be staying.”

  “Well then. I’ll just go and tell your mama that you’re too busy to come to the phone.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Jack.”

  He turned and winked at me. “You made the right decision, girl. You’ll be happy now.” Uncle Jack made his way down the steps to the first floor.

  As I stood on the landing and listened
to my uncle’s heavy boots treading along the wood floors to the kitchen, I realized he was right. I was happy, because for the first time in a long time, I was myself. Not the busy woman I had been prior to John’s appearance, but I was once again the little girl who had been passionate for all life had to offer. Jean Marc had taken that passion with him when he went to Texas all those years ago. Last night he had put that missing puzzle piece of me back into place, and I was complete.

  Suddenly, a loud crash, followed by a lot of expletives, came from the downstairs parlor. I quickly ran down the stairs, heading toward the ruckus. I made it to Henri’s bedroom and threw open the old cypress doors.

  Before me was a rather buxom woman dressed in blue scrubs and pinned to the floor beneath Henri. He had his arms about her, and for a brief second it looked as if his good hand was trying to go up the poor woman’s scrub shirt.

  “Should I come back later?” I joked.

  “Oh, Ms. Nora.” The young woman struggled to her feet. “I was trying to show Mr. Gaspard how to use his new cane when we took a nosedive to the floor.”

  “I…fell.” Henri laughed and his black eyes glowed with mischief.

  I glared at him. “Yes, I can see that. You need to be careful, Henri; not all women like to be on the bottom.”

  He grinned and then he placed his head against the floor, as if he was trying to hide his true response to my comment.

  “Let’s get you up, Romeo.” I struggled to get Henri back on his feet and over to the nearby pale blue chair.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Nora.” The young chestnut-haired therapist kneeled before Henri and began checking his arms for injury. “I thought he was strong enough for a cane,” she explained as she lifted his blue T-shirt and examined his chest.

  “Oh, he is, Margie. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. I think Henri just bit off more than he could chew today.” I shook my finger at Henri. “I told you not to push too hard.”

  “Sorry,” he said, sulking in the chair like a punished child.

  “Perhaps I should take him in for x-rays,” Margie fretted as she slowly began groping her way up Henri’s left pant leg. “I want to make sure he didn’t hurt himself,” she added.