He removed an old pair of blue jeans from his closet. “I kept telling myself the same thing when I was with Cynthia, hoping it would be enough to keep our marriage going.” He tossed the jeans to the bed. “When I found out she was sleeping with someone else, I wasn’t angry, I was relieved.” He stepped over to his chest of drawers.
“You never told her how you felt, just like I never told John.” I eased up next to him. “Promise from this point on we will never keep anything hidden between us.”
His body stiffened and he turned to the chest of drawers.
“Jean Marc? What is it?”
He opened the top drawer, keeping his back to me as he spoke. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and one day that past may catch up with me.”
“Are you talking about the smuggling?”
He lifted a white T-shirt from the drawer and faced me. “I’m not like my brother, Nora, but I am not what you think.”
“I know what you’ve done. I know you smuggled goods through the swamps to keep your family business going. You did what you had to. I will never think any less of you because of it.”
He threw the T-shirt on the bed behind me. “You don’t know everything. There are things I need to tell you.”
I patted my hand reassuringly on his chest, convinced that there was nothing more he could disclose to me about his business dealings. “Tonight you can tell me all about your smuggling secrets, and then we will make plans.”
His deep brown eyes anxiously searched mine. “You might not feel the same way about me after I tell you of my past, Nora.”
I shook my head. “None of it can ever change how I see you. To me you will always be that adorable boy chasing after me on the docks. The boy I fell in love with because he believed in me before I believed in myself. ”
“You may despise that boy after tonight,” he warned with a frown.
“I won’t change my mind, Jean Marc. I promise I never will.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I hope so, Nora. I truly hope so.”
I knew no matter what he told me, it would never lessen my love for him. My faith had taught me that true love could forgive a multitude of sins. I had never believed in such absolution prior to that moment, but my feelings for Jean Marc had opened my heart to such possibilities. After all, our souls are not judged by the sins we accumulate in life, but by the love we take with us after our life has ebbed away.
Chapter 26
I had just stepped up to the back door of the main house when I heard Uncle Jack’s truck heading toward Jean Marc’s cottage. The sun was coming up over the horizon and the house was still. When I entered the kitchen I expected to see Henri, but instead I found his half-full ashtray on the kitchen table. I walked over to the coffee machine and started filling the coffee chamber with the aromatic coffee and chicory blend so many of us in the South had grown addicted to. I turned the machine on, then stood by the counter and waited impatiently for those first few drops of the dirt-colored liquid to appear in the pot.
“Damn things always take forever,” a hard-hearted voice said behind me.
I turned to see Henri standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing his robe over his pajamas and leaning heavily on the cane the physical therapist had given him the day before.
“Using the cane, I see.” I pulled out two coffee mugs from the cabinet above me.
“It’s easier for getting around,” he admitted as he came toward the kitchen table and eased himself into the closest chair.
I placed a mug in front of him. “You’ll be ready to travel soon.”
He rested his cane against his chair. “A few more days.”
“How about today, Henri?”
“Why should I do that, Nora? I’m not quite ready yet, and I still have to get some cash.”
I took a deep breath. “I’ll give you my engagement ring and the keys to my car if you leave today.”
He sat back in his chair and eyed me for a moment. “Things must be progressing nicely with my brother for you to want me out of the picture so quickly. Did he ask you to move in with him already?”
I said nothing to confirm or deny his suspicions. His eyes went to the gold-painted ring on the third finger of my left hand and then he grinned.
“Jean Marc wants to marry you. You do work fast. Haven’t even dumped fiancé number one and you’ve got number two all lined up. Like mother, like daughter.”
I slapped him hard across the face.
He did nothing. He did not even flinch when I hit him. He kept his soulless eyes on mine. Then he gave me a cold sneer and raised his left hand to rub his red cheek.
“Was it something I said?” he quipped.
I glared at him. “It’s no business of yours what happens between me and Jean Marc.” I returned to the coffee machine on the counter.
“Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love, Nora. But you must admit it gives one pause how quickly you fall in and out of love. First with the nice doctor, and now with my brother; some people might wonder what you’re after, girl.”
I wheeled around. “What I’m after? I’m not after anything, Henri. I’m in love with your brother and he loves me. There is nothing else.”
“Love? With Jean Marc?” He chuckled and reached for his cane. “That man doesn’t know how to love.”
“What do you know about love, Henri? You’re so wrapped up in yourself that there can never be room in your heart for another person. You can’t love; all you can do is destroy. That way you don’t feel so alone and so empty inside.”
“You think you have me all figured out with your psychobabble.” He looked down at the ring on my finger. “Let me tell you something, love tarnishes. I’ve seen it a hundred times. It starts out great, but after a while the luster fades and the polish wears away. Then all you’re left with is a cheap piece of tin, and you wonder what in the hell you ever found so appealing to begin with.” He leaned on his cane and slowly stood from his chair. “I‘m not the kind of man who goes around filling a woman’s head with promises of white picket fences and wedded bliss, because I know it doesn’t exist. Such happiness is a myth, the golden grail of life. If you set out searching for it, all you will ever find is sorrow.” He paused as he caught his breath for a moment, leaning heavily on his cane. “Take some advice, Nora. Go back to your doctor and be content with that, because you will never have happiness with my brother.”
I held up my head defiantly to him. “You’re the one who has always carried unhappiness around with you like an all-consuming plague. You have no idea what happiness is, what love is, and you hate the idea that Jean Marc and I could ever be happy.”
“Oh, yes, try and be happy with the untouchable, cool, and always perfect Jean Marc.” He wavered on his feet. “You’ve never had to grow up in the shadow of a sibling, Nora. To be compared day in and day out to the better half of your biological self. I’m sick of hearing from everyone how great and dedicated dear, sweet Jean Marc is. You’ll never know everything about him; all the bad things he has done. God help you if you ever learn the truth.” He slowly made his way out of the kitchen, leaning on the cane as he went.
I stared out the window behind the sink as I waited for Henri’s shuffling to fade away. The red light of the coffee pot beside me started to blink, signaling the brewing phase was complete. But I did not feel like coffee anymore; the fight with Henri had ruined my happy mood.
I tried to relax my shoulders and let all the tension his words had created leave my body. But as I replayed the conversation over in my head, one thing he said ate at me.
“God help you if you ever learn the truth,” I repeated the words he had used as I inspected the full coffee pot next to me. “What truth?” I asked out loud.
“Oh, Nora T, you’re up,” Ms. Marie’s cheerful voice came from the kitchen doorway. “And you have made the coffee. Ca c’est bon.”
The dainty woman was dressed in her Sunday best. Her plain, white cotton dress was dotted with y
ellow daises, and her pale yellow shoes matched perfectly with her yellow handbag.
“You look very pretty,” I commented, admiring her outfit.
“Thank you, child.” She came forward and placed her handbag on the kitchen table. “Was that Henri I heard shuffling about?” she asked as she reached for the empty coffee mug on the table.
“Yes, he was awake so we have been practicing walking with his new cane. He’s doing well with it.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She brought the mug to the sink and then pulled out another mug from the cabinet beside her. “I want him to get out of that room. Maybe we could take him out this afternoon, get him some sunshine.”
“That would be good for him,” I concurred.
She turned to me, holding her mug in her hands. “I don’t know what we would have done without you these past few days, Nora T. Havin’ a nurse ‘round here would have broken my Jean Marc. The therapists were expensive enough, but I can’t imagine how—”
“What do you mean ‘broken Jean Marc,’ Ms. Marie?” I interrupted.
“Jean Marc pays for everythin’ ‘round here, child; has ever since he came back from Texas. He’s spent a fortune fixin’ up this house and his cottage, and then havin’ to pay all of Henri’s medical bills on top of everythin’ must be costin’ him. I know my boys haven’t spoken in years, and I would never have asked Jean Marc to spend any of his money on his brother, but I had no choice.”
“His money? I don’t understand.”
“Money from his accounts,” she replied, smiling. “From the money he made in Texas.” She reached for the coffee pot. “Investments, or somethin’ like that.” She poured the coffee into her mug. “I can never remember,” she added.
“Texas?” I asked, feeling an uncomfortable twinge in my gut.
“Oui, he made a lot of money in Texas. When he came home, he took over the business from Emile. Henri and Jean Marc were supposed to take it over together, but they had a fallin’ out and Henri left.” She replaced the coffee pot on the warmer.
“Ms. Marie, this is very important. Do you know what these investments were?”
She shook her head and frowned. “But Henri knew. Shame Henri can’t remember. He could have said more ’bout it.”
My happiness disintegrated as the bite of bile rose in the back of my throat. I left Ms. Marie and went down the narrow beige hall toward the parlor. I tore open the doors to Henri’s bedroom and caught sight of him by his hospital bed, wearing only his pajama bottoms and struggling to pull his blue T-shirt over his head.
“How did Jean Marc make his money in Texas?” I questioned as I entered the room. I quickly shut the doors behind me.
Henri peered out from under his T-shirt. With his good left hand he pulled the T-shirt off his head and then threw it on the bed.
“Mother ran her mouth, I suspect.” He shifted his weight and leaned on the bed next to him. “She always had a bad habit of talking too much.”
I marched up to the bed and stood before him. “What happened when Jean Marc came home from Texas?”
He sat down on the bed and rubbed his left hand across his thin, pale chest. “The question is, dear girl, what didn’t happen? You never would have guessed it by looking at my brother, but he is a very shrewd businessman, Nora. Do you know what I mean?”
I shook my head, waiting with a sickening impatience for his next words.
“I’m sure you know about the history of my fine family. Smugglers and thieves, that’s what we have been for almost two hundred years, and in many ways what we still are.” He paused, looked down at the sheets on his bed, and picked at a piece of lint with his left hand. “Granddad taught my uncle and father all about the business of swamp running, and in turn, my father taught Jean Marc and me.” He raised his head. “The real family business, you could say. Trawling has always been something of a cover for the Gaspard family…sort of an alternative career.”
“Jean Marc told me you ran drugs,” I confessed.
He nodded. “Yeah, drugs, small arms, whatever was needed. Father had many clients, and I picked up the business from him.”
“And Jean Marc?”
“Oh, he started out like me, running stuff occasionally through the swamps for Dad. But he never really had a taste for it. He found his true calling when he went to Texas.”
My gut tightened. “Why Texas?”
“He met his father-in-law, Lawrence Castille, when he was in school there. Castille was one of the best smugglers in the world. He took Jean Marc under his wing and taught him all about the art of smuggling. He became a real asset to Castille, even married his daughter. My brother ran everything from antiquities out of Egypt, to illegal arms into North Korea. He made a lot of money doing it.”
A wave of nausea rolled in my stomach. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it, Nora. Jean Marc was never crazy about the business, but he sure did like the money. Tried not to get into it, even got a regular job after he graduated from college to support his wife, but that soon failed and he eventually succumbed, like we all do. The money is too damn good to walk away from.”
“Why did he walk away from it?”
“Castille was killed in a raid on one of his compounds in Texas. Jean Marc was on a run for him at the time, out of the country. When Jean Marc came back to the States, he decided to come home and put his money into expanding Gaspard Fisheries. But when he found out I was still smuggling, he decided it was time to go straight and cut the family business off from our other enterprises. I tried to talk him out of it.” He grazed his hand down the scar on his right cheek. “Unsuccessfully. So, I left and went out on my own.”
I leaned over the bed. “Why didn’t you want to go straight, Henri? You could have worked with Jean Marc to build up the business.”
“The last thing my brother wanted was having me around to spy on him. Jean Marc doesn’t like anyone knowing his dirty little secret. But I heard about it from a few associates I know. They said that he was a real pro in Texas, a cool customer with a ruthless reputation and some very powerful connections. When I heard he had returned to his former ways, I wasn’t surprised.”
I shook my head, feeling confused. “What former ways?”
“His smuggling ways, of course. Rumor around the swamps is that Jean Marc Gaspard never left the business.”
I sighed with relief. “I already know about his smuggling activities, Henri. When I went over to his place the other day, I saw him loading up a boat with boxes to take into the swamps. I confronted him about it, and he told me everything.”
Henri rolled his eyes and laughed at me. It was a harsh and evil sound that reverberated throughout the small parlor. “You think I’m talking about swamp smuggling, girl? Lord, Nora, you really are innocent, aren’t you? You can’t make enough off smuggling junk through the swamps to pay all of the bills my brother has racked up through the years. No, I’m talking about high-end smuggling; taking stuff across borders and into other countries. Dangerous stuff that can get you killed, like gems, weapons, money, antiquities, even secrets. My brother is still an international smuggler, Nora. He’s considered one of the best in the business. His clients are some of the wealthiest men on the planet. That’s how he has been able to pay for everything around here since he came home from Texas.”
I thought of Jean Marc’s frequent business trips, the guns in his home, and his sudden desire to tell me everything about his past. The blood drained from my head and I wobbled on my feet.
“What’s the matter, Nora? Shocked by my little disclosure about my brother? Still think you could be happy as my brother’s wife?”
I stared into his icy, black eyes. “I have to talk to Jean Marc.” I turned to go.
“Whoa, wait a minute, Nora.” Henri stood up and grabbed my arm. “You can’t tell Jean Marc anything I’ve just told you.”
I shook off his arm. “Why not?”
“If he finds out I talked, that I’ve made him vulnerabl
e, he’ll kill me.”
“Jean Marc wouldn’t hurt you,” I assured him as I headed for the parlor doors.
“Jean Marc will protect himself, Nora,” he stated behind me. “He couldn’t give a damn about me. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a liability. Just like Uncle Etienne was a problem for my father, until he was finally gotten rid of.”
I stopped at the doors and then slowly turned back to Henri. “Are you saying Etienne was killed?”
He shrugged. “Of course. My father was furious about Etienne’s marriage to your mother. Claire was a smart woman, like you. Father felt she would learn about the secret family business sooner or later. He pressured Etienne to end the marriage, but my uncle refused. He loved your mother.” Henri paused and shook his head. “Even when Claire left Etienne for Kehoe, he still refused to divorce her. So my father found another way to get Claire out of our lives. He set up the accident, and told everyone that Etienne had shot himself because he could not handle losing his wife.”
My knees began giving way. “Why are you telling me all of this, Henri?”
“I’m tired of living with all the lies. When I told you I wanted to get out of here, it was the truth. I want out of this business. I want to start over.” He sneered at me. “You’re here because Jean Marc wanted to keep an eye on me. He knew that you would tell him everything about my progress. That’s why he let you take care of me. But he didn’t bargain on you finding out everything about him. It would destroy his whole plan for your future together.”
“Christ, Henri, I can’t believe—” The sudden sound of the doorbell interrupted me.
Henri grabbed his T-shirt off the bed. “My mother probably has more of her idiot friends from the church coming over. Go and see who it is.” He stood from the bed and started pushing me toward the parlor doors.
“Are you kidding me, Henri?” I balked as I threw off his hand.
He slung his T-shirt over his shoulder. “Nora, now that you know everything, you must keep it together. I need you to play along until I can get out of here. Just go and see who it is, and then send them away.”
Acadian Waltz Page 23
