Once Upon a Christmas

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Betty Jean replied, her smile beaming as bright as the twinkling lights on the tiny Christmas tree by the window in the kitchen. “He’ll be over here this afternoon to finish stringing the lights out front. You might approach him then. Oh, and you might want to keep this just between us, dear.” Betty Jean lifted her eyes toward the upstairs. “You know how high-strung your mother can be at times.”

  “Okay,” Elise said, leaning close. “She’ll never even notice a thing.”

  But Elise knew Cissie Melancon. Her mother’s fondest hope was to marry her socialite daughter off to a senator or doctor, preferably someone with a lineage that dated back to before the Civil War. Someone with royal connections would be even better. Cissie would never cotton to her daughter spending time with a man who made his living from shrimping and working part-time odd jobs.

  “This is going to be a very interesting Christmas,” Elise said as she stole a sugar cookie from Reginald’s secret stash. “Very interesting.”

  Theo knew she was watching him. He also knew that she had big plans for him. All he had to do was wait to see what those plans required. Watch and pray, he told himself.

  So this pretty little sweetheart was going to teach him all about proper manners. It wasn’t like he didn’t have manners. He knew which fork went where, even if his maman didn’t have a matching set of silver utensils. And he knew the important things—to be kind and show respect, to do a good day’s honest work, and to be loyal to his family and to trust in God, always.

  What else could a man ask for?

  But when Theo turned and saw Elise Melancon standing on the long, wide back porch of Belle Terre, his gut twisted with such a sweet longing, he knew there was a lot more a man could ask for. A whole lot more.

  She was wearing a white sweater trimmed with fluffy pink fur at the collar, and matching white wool pants that probably cost more than a whole month’s worth of shrimping could buy. Her kid leather shoes were a soft muted pink, to match her sweater, no doubt, with tiny little heels and pointed toes that made her feet look dainty. All dressed up like a pretty doll. And looking at him with those wide ocean-eyes. Looking at him with questions and doubts, and maybe a little fear and loathing.

  Don’t be foolish, he told himself as he smiled and tipped his hand to her. He’d lost Maggie because of bad luck and bad timing. How could he even expect a woman like Elise Melancon to want to associate with the likes of him?

  “Don’t expect much and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

  His mother’s words seemed to echo over the live oaks and cottonwoods. He could almost feel her boxing his ears in that affectionate but firm way Deidre had.

  Sure, Theo thought, his remorse and resentment bubbling up like swamp mire. He’d had big expectations, and he’d still lost out on his hopes and dreams. He’d lost Maggie. It was enough to make a man bitter for life.

  It was enough to make a man lash out.

  And so he did. At the woman standing there watching him. The same woman who’d sat watching him from across the dinner table last night, her quick glances coy and cryptic, her quick wit charming and above reproach. Or more like, unapproachable.

  Theo was determined to break through that cool resolve.

  “What’s the matter, lady? Never seen a man trying to untangle Christmas lights before?”

  She blushed as she started down the steps toward him.

  “I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that well—”

  Theo threw down the white lights he’d been coaxing around a huge tree trunk. “It’s just that you really don’t want to do as your grand-mère asked. It’s just that you really don’t want to be seen with the likes of moi, right? It’s just that you’d rather walk right into quicksand then spend one minute trying to tame me, right?”

  She looked surprised, affronted and, finally, angry. Theo watched as the play of emotions moved over her perfect oval face like a sunset washing over the horizon, all shades of blush and cream, all bright and glistening with shimmering clarity. “Yes, I guess it is all of that,” she said, throwing him off balance with her honesty.

  Theo laughed out loud, which seemed to make her even more mad. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said, coming inches closer. “I promised Mamere—”

  “I seen promises broken,” he said, wishing he hadn’t.

  “I don’t break my promises,” she responded, her tone superior and condescending. “It’s just that, well, I’m not sure where to start.”

  Theo stalked the two feet between them, then leaned down close. “Why not start at the beginning. For example, what would a gentleman do in a situation such as this one?”

  He could tell by the way her long lashes fluttered that she wasn’t exactly sure what a lady should do in this situation, let along a gentleman. After all, he was too close. He could smell the sweet floral scent of her expensive perfume. It made him think of a garden full of honeysuckle and lilies.

  She swayed, ran a hand over her curling hair. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, inching even closer, a hint of what his maman would call canille—mischief—making him more daring, “what would a gentleman do if he wanted to kiss a lady, but he didn’t know that lady well enough to kiss her?”

  She backed away, brushing her hands down the front of her sweater as if to rid them of something disgusting. “A gentleman would never be that stupid in the first place,” she said, the breathless quality of her words rushing over him like a soothing wind. “Especially when he’s trying to win back another woman.”

  “Well, then, there you have it,” he said with a flourish of his hand in the air. “I guess that proves I ain’t a gentleman, after all. And I guess that means that I need your help, Miss Elise. Bad.”

  That word seemed to lift out over the trees in a warning echo as Theo watched her turn and rush into the house with a slamming of the door. He’d lashed out. And she’d shut him out, that was for sure.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She was back in five minutes.

  Theo went on with his business. He had to get these lights up before the rest of the Melancon clan came for the Christmas celebration. They’d be dropping in and out, coming and going. They all had busy, glamorous lives and very little time to sit still and enjoy the blessings of the holidays. It was Theo’s job to make sure the whole house looked festive and polished for the various gatherings. He had lots to keep him busy. Lots.

  She was staring at him again.

  He could feel her eyes on him. It reminded him of the time he was walking alone on the sandy lane leading from Belle Terre to his house and he’d felt something watching him. That something had turned out to be a sleek Florida panther, a rare sight in the swamps these days.

  Theo now felt as if he’d stumbled on something else that was very rare. The perfect woman. All prepped and trained to be almost robotic in her etiquette and her social standing. There had to be a way to break through all that cool layering to get to the heart of the woman. He’d gotten her flustered during this first round.

  Time for round two.

  He whirled and caught her red-handed. She flinched and looked away.

  “Back for more, chère?” he asked in such a sweet way, the cool December air seemed to still. “You know, a lady wouldn’t stare that way.”

  “I…I won’t be swayed or intimidated,” she said, coming down the steps again, her head lifted in an uppity manner that only added to her cuteness. “We need to discuss some things. For example, you need a haircut. I’ve scheduled you an appointment in the village, with Ginger at Ginger’s Bayou Beauties. You know the place, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head. Women always wanted to change a man right off. “I’m not going to that beauty shop. My brothers would laugh me outta the parish. Besides, my maman trims my hair now and again.”

  “You are going. If you want to impress your Maggie, then you can’t
look like a caveman. No disrespect to your mother, of course, but a gentleman always has a neat, trimmed haircut.”

  He turned his head sideways at her. “I told you I wasn’t a gentleman.”

  “And I promised my grandmother I’d help you become one.”

  Silent and scowling, he went back to trying to twist lights around the nearest tree trunk, throwing in a couple of he-man grunts for good measure.

  “After the haircut, we’ll go shopping. We’ll have to drive into New Orleans.” She studied one of her French-manicured nails. “The Dollar Hollow in the village simply won’t do.”

  “I buy my jeans there,” he pointed out, the batch of lights he’d just unstrung seeming to tangle in his white-fisted grip. “My shirts and shoes, too.”

  “You can’t wear those horrid faded jeans to a formal Christmas dinner.”

  Frustrated at her high-handed, snobbish attitude, Theo threw down the strand of lights. “Non, but I don’t need some fancy outfit that costs an arm and a leg. I have some nice dress shirts that I wear to church. Why won’t one of dem do?”

  She slanted her aquamarine eyes down on him. “Because dem—them—those—aren’t the right kind of shirts for a gentleman. You need something tailored and fitted to—” her gaze skimmed over his chest “—to your shoulders and arms.”

  “I always just eyeball the size,” he said with a shrug. This “gentleman” business was way too complicated.

  “That’s the problem, Theo,” she said as she pranced toward him. “You can’t eyeball good taste.”

  “Well, then mebbe I don’t need to get good taste,” he responded, wondering how the tables had been turned so he was now the one on the defensive.

  “We’ll have to work on your diction, too,” she said, her eyes gleaming with victory. “You need to learn to articulate your words, not slur them together in a mumbo jumbo of cluttered Cajun-French and broken English.”

  “Oo ye yi,” Theo said, stringing lights with all his might, stringing them so tight the poor tree would probably have permanent marks. “I’m so sorry that you can’t comprehend what I’m saying to you, suga’.” He wanted to say a few more things, things she’d understand in no uncertain terms, but then, he reminded himself that this stuck-up beauty was Betty Jean’s granddaughter. Out of respect for her mamere, he kept those thoughts to himself. In a slow, deliberately drawn out drawl, he added, “What exactly is it that you don’t understand about me, Miss Elise?”

  “Everything,” she said with a huffy shrug, a becoming flush of pink rising up her face. “I mean, you had so much going for you, Theo, from what Mamere has told me. You went to college. I know you must be smart. Why do you act so, so—”

  “Stupide?” He threw down the rest of the lights, then turned to glare at her, the pressure building inside his chest causing him to take a deep breath. “That’s what you think, oui? You feel sorry for poor Theo, the Cajun boy who had to give up his dreams to come home and help the family? Is that how you see me, as someone who just gave up? Someone too dumb to see what he had in front of his face?”

  Anger made him stomp close, his finger in her face. “Let me tell you something, right here, right now. You do not need to feel sorry for me. I am a happy man. A very happy man. I love my family. I will do whatever it takes to see them through this rough spot. That’s what family is all about. But then, I reckon you’ve never had to deal with such things, have you, princess?” Seeing the mist of embarrassment in her eyes, he leaned even closer. “Did you understand that? Did I say it in the right way? Do you think you could wipe that look of pity off your face and understand that I don’t need the likes of you doing me any favors?”

  “I’m doing this for my grandmother,” Elise replied, her eyelashes fluttering as she batted back what looked like anger. “I’m doing this as a favor to her.”

  “Oui, that’s very kind of you. But, me, I’m thinking the deal is off. I’m thinking mebbe I don’t need any manners training from someone like you.”

  Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

  He pushed and pushed until he had her up against a square column. “I mean, chère, that I like my women down-to-earth and honest. I like them sweet and pleasant. I like to laugh with a woman, and share my heart with her. I like to be on the same level, two hearts, one purpose. I can’t see that happening with you, even though you are mighty tempting and as pretty as a morning glory. I can’t—”

  “No one ever implied we’d…that we’d become…that you and I…we’re just…I’m not interested in—”

  “Oh, right,” he said, laughing as he kept her pinned to the post. “You’re just here to make sure I behave and change my bad ways, oui? You feel an obligation to help me, because your dear grand-mère asked you to do this. And you can’t turn her down, maybe because your heart is telling you that you’ve neglected her and now you feel really bad about all of that? Is that the way of it, catin?”

  She gave him a direct look that caused her blue-green eyes to blaze like a fire’s tip. “You think you know me so well, don’t you, Theo? You think I’m just a shallow socialite who’s never had to work for anything, right?”

  “Oui, that’s about right.”

  She looked away. “You don’t know me at all, then.” But when she looked back at him, he thought he saw defeat there in her eyes. “I’m blessed to be born into a wealthy family, no doubt. But I’ve worked hard for my family, too. Not in the same way as you, but hard nevertheless, because I love them. Maybe you can’t understand me, but don’t you think you’re the one who’s a snob, judging me just because our lives are so different?”

  Theo backed up, took a breath. She was right. He was judging her. And he’d been really mean to tease her and flirt with her. And deep inside, he couldn’t disappoint her grandmother. The woman had been his friend and his mentor for several years. He’d walk through a gator-infested swamp to please Betty Jean Melancon. Besides, it was only two weeks or so. Surely he could handle Elise for that small amount of time.

  They stood silent for a few breaths, their eyes locking in an unspoken battle of wills. Theo had to give the blonde credit. She didn’t back down easily.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I won’t act up again. What time is the hair appointment?”

  “You’ll go?” she asked, surprise coloring her creamy skin a glistening pink.

  “I’ll go. I could use a good trim. And that Ginger, well, it for sure will be nice to have her hands in my hair.”

  “Thank you,” she said, the lifting of her elegantly arched brows the only sign that he’d shocked her. She straightened and turned to walk back into the house. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. We’ll go into the village after we eat.”

  “I have my own lunch,” he countered. “I’d prefer to take my meals out here, by myself, from now on.”

  “Oh, okay then. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She turned at the back door. “And Theo, I don’t feel sorry for you, not at all. I…I admire you. Very much.”

  Theo knew he was in serious trouble. How could a man resist a compliment like that, all wrapped up inside an explanation and a gracious admission, said from a mouth so pretty and pink it made a man think of plums and strawberries? And said by a woman with eyes the shade of pure water and clear blue skies?

  How was a man supposed to behave and resist that kind of package?

  Dear Lord, give me strength, Theo silently prayed. Help me to keep my mouth shut and my eyes to myself, Lord. That woman is way out of my league. Way out of my reach. I need Your intervention, Jesus.

  “And I need my head examined,” he said, yanking another strand of glittering lights.

  When he happened to glance up again, he saw Elise standing at the window, looking out at him. Theo looked away. When he turned back, she was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Grand-mère, I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Oh, all you have to do it twist the bread into a little bow, darling.”

&n
bsp; Elise shook her head. “I’m not talking about making dinner rolls. I don’t think I can work with Theo.”

  “Difficult, is he?”

  Elise didn’t appreciate the gleam of mirth in her grandmother’s eyes. “That’s just the beginning. He thinks I feel pity for him. Have you considered that we’re insulting him by doing this?”

  “It’s no insult to offer help to a friend, sweetie.”

  “But he seems to resent me so much.”

  “He resents his lot in life,” Betty Jean said, her tiny fingers busy making pretty homemade yeast rolls. “How’s that crawfish coming, Reginald?”

  On the other side of the long kitchen, Reginald was busy putting the finishing touches on his famous seafood stuffing. It would go with the massive turkey Reginald and Theo would fry up Cajun style on a big cooker out back. “Crawfish and shrimp are in, Mrs. Melancon. Oysters go in next. Then I’ll stir up the sausage. This batch should cool nicely and be ready for the freezer this afternoon.”

  “Smells delicious,” Betty Jean said. Then she turned back to Elise. “Just keep at Theo. He’ll come around.”

  Elise looked down at the lopsided bow of dough she’d tried to twist. “But why is this so important to you, Mamere? There must be something you’re not telling me.”

  Betty Jean sent a covert glance toward the ever-listening butler on the other side of the room, then turned up the dial on the radio station that continued to blast Christmas hymns out over the big kitchen. “Well, I do have a confession to make,” she said, looking contrite. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you to do this.”

  “I knew it,” Elise said, slapping down the blob of dough in front of her. “Tell me everything, before I make a complete idiot of myself with Theo.”

  Betty Jean continued to twist the bowknots into precise little rolls. “You remember when you were young, dear. You used to tell me that you wanted to live here with me forever.”