Looking at Joe, she said, "I'll change Joey out of his christening gown. Are you going to stay in your suit or change into something else?"
"Change into something easier to dance in, but maybe you could stay the way you are." Joe scanned the length of her. "You look so pretty in that dress you could make a hound dog smile, and it also gives me a chance to see your legs."
Anne laughed because Joe talked like a man out of a different century, which she found endearing. "Okay, you convinced me."
When she turned to go, Joe took her arm to stop her, and said, "I'm thinkin' it's time to fill in another gap." He kissed her, even though it was awkward with Joey sandwiched between them like with their last kiss, and Anne kissed him back, but when the kiss came to an end, Joe said, "Next time we do this we won't have our boy between us."
Anne smiled and turned into the hallway, liking the idea of wrapping her arms around Joe's neck and kissing him, and being held in his arms while he kissed her back, a long, smoky kiss that would have her heart racing and her lips tingling. Maybe her past with him would never return, but now she could imagine a future with a man she still loved in her heart, yet had no memory why, but was certain she could love again.
When she finished changing and nursing Joey, she found Joe waiting for her in the living room. On seeing him wearing western boots that accentuated his height, jeans that molded to his masculine male body, and a western shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders, her breath caught. Tall and lean, with a crop of thick brown hair, a pair of dark devil eyes fixed appreciatively on her, and a five-o'clock shadow on his broad jaw, he was all male. Magnificently male.
A lot of men are attractive, but that's not a reason to marry them.
Anne was thinking maybe it was. With all the outdoor work, riding horses, and moving cattle, Joe would be lean and strong well into old age while the men her sisters and parents pushed for her to marry would no doubt be pale-skinned from working at a desk inside, soft-muscled from inactivity, and probably have round bellies and lifeless eyes, but Joe's eyes were anything but lifeless.
"If you weren't holdin' Joey right now you'd be in trouble," Joe said, "but I like the once-over. It gives me hope." He took Joey and lowered him into the infant carrier, grabbed the handles in one hand and Anne's arm in the other, and ushered her toward the front door.
By the time they joined the large gathering, a grouping of men had congregated around two long tables near the grill, some cutting meat, others chopping vegetables. Anne looked at them in curiosity, then said to Joe, "It's only men doing the cooking."
"Yep. It's the way it is at these get-togethers. Men learn from their daddies and granddaddies and pass recipes down the line to their sons and grandsons. This way the women can socialize and watch the kids. Come on. Let's take a look at the cake."
Joe guided Anne to a table holding a large sheet cake covered with white icing, with an iced cross laying on top near a corner. Written across the cake were words piped in blue icing: God Bless Joseph Beausoleil Broussard. Welcome to the Lord's family. It was a beautiful cake, prepared by people who were also welcoming Joey into their family.
Anne's eyes misted with joy. Two weeks ago Joey had only her. Now he had so many relatives in this big family he'd never be alone, something that troubled her deeply before Joe found her, constantly wondering what would become of Joey if something happened to her.
"Sugah, you have tears in your eyes," Joe said.
Anne blinked rapidly. "Happy tears. A week ago I had no idea who I was, where I came from, or who Joey's father was, but now Joey has a name, his real name, and a father. I still don't have a past, but I'm not so worried anymore because I can feel things starting to come back, like seeing people huddled around the big grill, and kids running around, and everyone having fun. I feel like I've been to one of these get-togethers."
"You have. When you lived at home we'd meet at the edge of the cane field, and when the band started up we'd dance in the dirt or in the mud if it had rained. You were quickly becomin' a Cajun girl."
"So, Cajuns dance in the mud?" Anne asked, amused.
Joe's eyes brightened with merriment. "Dancin's in our blood, darlin'. When the band starts up a Cajun has to dance, and if it starts rainin', a Cajun puts on rain boots and just keeps dancin'." He grabbed Joey's infant carrier, took Anne by the arm again and said while guiding her toward one of the tables beneath the covered area, "We'll hang out here for a while so everyone can see Joey, and when the band gets fired up, we'll dance."
Anne loved hearing the animation in Joe's voice when he talked about the things he loved—dancing, his family, his Cajun lifestyle, Joey. He was a happy man, and she was a big part of making him that way.
After taking their places, Joe tipped two chairs against the long table to save two places, and said, "Zenon and Leona want to sit with us and see their godson. They'll be good godparents. Zenon's daddy's my parrain. He's the one who made sure I studied my catechism and went to church, and he keeps me on the straight and narrow. That's what godparents are for, so parents can concentrate on the basics in life like feeding, clothing, huggin' the kids, and shovin' back the furniture in the living room and teachin' them two-step." Joe grinned.
Anne loved his grin, a broad roguish smile that curved up to light his eyes in a playful way. It was infectious and she found herself grinning too. She glanced around and saw kids playing tag and grownups socializing and drinking beer. There was also a circle of old folks that included Joe's grandfather, all leaning forward, faces serious, while Joe's grandfather passed on something that was holding their rapt attention, something of a serious nature from the way the others listened intently. Then he stopped talking, and an instant later, the group burst out laughing, and Anne wondered if Joe's grandfather had told an off-color joke.
To answer her unasked question, Joe said, "Pépère's tellin' one of his Tee Jean-Pierre jokes. Coonasses like making fun of themselves."
"Tee Jean-Pierre, like a T-shirt?"
Joe laughed. "Another Cajun thing. A Tee before a name means little. Joey'll most likely be Tee Joe by the time he's two so family knows which Joe they're talkin' about."
Anne looked down at Joey in his infant carrier and found him staring at her like he knew they were talking about him, and when she smiled, he smiled back. "Okay, Tee Joe, come sit on Momma's lap and you can watch your first fais do-do."
Lifting him out of his carrier, she kissed him on his chubby cheek, then cuddled him against her and enjoyed the warm weight of her baby in her arms, a precious gift from a man she was slowly getting to know, and love. When she raised her gaze she found Joe looking at his son. In the angular features of his face flickered an expression both tender and touching. Then his expression changed, became thoughtful. Then disturbed. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Joe eyed her with disquiet. "I was thinkin' about what you must've gone through when you had Joey. I should've been there. When y'all left for the conference the rainstorm was underway and I should've made a bigger fuss about your goin', and just before you took off we had a fight about when we'd be gettin' married and about tellin' your parents. We didn't even hug or kiss because your coworker came during the fight and we were both mad. I couldn't stop thinkin' about that the whole time you were missin'. I could even be the reason you went missin'."
Until now, Anne hadn't imagined Joe could feel guilty about what happened. It seemed illogical that he did. To relieve his mind, she said, "I may have a messed up memory right now, but I know a fight about when we'd be getting married or telling my parents wouldn't have made me run off. I already met my father and I'm not afraid of him. I just don't like him. And when I had Joey, I was well-cared for in a hospital, and I went home with Karen afterwards. Besides, from what you told me about me, if I had a mind to go to New Orleans, I doubt you could've stopped me, even if you did make a fuss." That got a smile from Joe.
For the next half hour they were greeted by well-wishers, although none stayed long, and Anne susp
ected it was because they felt awkward trying to talk to someone without a memory.
The interactions came to a halt when a woman beat the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, and yelled, "Allons manger!"
"The food's ready," Joe said. "Stay here with Joey and I'll be back with it in a few minutes."
Anne watched Joe as he made his way toward the food tables, while thinking he was built the way a man should be built. And he walked with a kind of a slow, easy amble, with maybe a little bit of a swagger. A cowboy walk.
Her view of him was blocked when Leona and Zenon walked up, and Leona said, "I take it Joe went to get you some food."
Anne nodded. "Aren't you eating?"
"We already did. Zenon's one of the cooks so we ate before everyone rushed in."
Zenon pulled up the chairs set in place for them, and while Leona entertained herself with Joey, cooing to him to get him smiling, Zenon leaned toward Anne, and said, "Did you hear about Boudreau and Thibodeau?"
Anne eyed him in puzzlement. She knew this man was Joe's cousin and Joey's godfather, but beyond that she knew nothing about him, except it seemed she should know some people Joe apparently knew. She looked at him in curiosity. "I'm afraid not. What about them?"
"Thibodeau and Boudreau work at the cannery," Zenon said. "The other day when Thibodeau was eatin' lunch with Boudreau, Boudreau pulled a silver thing from his lunch box, and lookin' at the thing, Thibodeau said, 'Man, Boudreau, what dat you got?' So Boudreau tells Thibodeau, 'It what dey call a Termis Bottle.' Thibodeau asked, 'A Termis Bottle, what dat do?' and Boudreau said, 'You put somethin' hot in it an it keep it hot. You put somethin' cold in it an it keep it cold.' Thibodeau thought about that, and said, 'What dey gonna think of next? So, what you got in it?' Boudreau held the thing up, and said, 'A cup of gumbo and two popsicles.'"
It took a moment for Anne to realize this man, she barely knew, had told a joke.
"Zenon!" his wife scolded, "don't start with your Boudreau-Thibodeau jokes."
Zenon laughed, and said to Anne, "Leona's sensitive because she was a Thibodeau before she married me."
"I'm not sensitive," Leona countered. "Half the parish is either a Thibodeau or a Boudreau. The other half are all Broussards, so if inbreeding shrinks brains, your jokes should be between Broussard and Broussard. Meanwhile, make yourself useful and get Anne and me a beer."
"Not me," Anne said. "I'm nursing Joey, but I'll have whatever the kids are drinking."
"That's beer," Zenon said.
Anne looked at him, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?"
"Zenon, stop it." Leona turned to Anne. "Don't believe a word he tells you. He loves to pull the wool over an unsuspecting person's eyes. He only gets to do it once."
Anne laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
Zenon smiled, and after he left, Leona said, "We've been married twelve years and he still manages to catch me at times."
"I guess that's what makes a marriage fun," Anne said.
"I never thought of it that way, but I suppose it does." Leona looked affectionately at her husband as he walked off, then she said to Anne, "And speaking of marriages, when we learned Joe had been about to marry you when you went missing and never said anything to any of us, including his family, we were shocked, but thinking you'd drowned, we were all sick in our hearts for Joe, and worried. He wouldn't talk about it to anyone. And he was mad at God, even stopped going to church, but Zenon's daddy, who's Joe's parrain, talked him into going to see Father Thomas, who spent time with Joe and at least got him going to church again. It was a dark period for Joe. We all felt so bad, but nothing we said or did helped. It's good to see him happy again." She looked beyond Anne. "And speak of the devil."
Anne glanced around to find Joe walking toward them, a small tray in each hand, a smile on his lips as he looked at her. "He does look happy," she mused. And amazingly handsome. She had an urge to loop her arms around his neck and get another smoky alligator jerky kiss. She might have done so if he hadn't been carrying trays of food and was surrounded by people.
"You're obviously happy too," Leona said.
Anne realized she was grinning. "I guess I am."
Joe set the trays on the table, each holding bowls of gumbo and plates with jambalaya, dirty rice, and thick slices of crusty French bread, then he said to Anne, "Come on, sugah and get started. The faster we eat, the sooner the cake'll be cut, and the quicker the dancin' starts."
As they sat around eating, conversing and laughing, it seemed no time before a woman called everyone over for the cutting of the cake, which was followed by numerous toasts made to Joey, some with prayers, others with wishes of health and happiness, and several toasts to Zenon and Leona and the part they'd play in Joey's life, and with the final dull clink of beer cans, cheers rose. Moments later, the accordion started playing and everyone funneled into the barn.
It was the first time Anne had been inside, and in fact in any of the out buildings, and she was pleasantly surprised to find it cleared of farm implements and swept clean, with folding chairs backed up against stacked bales of hay lining the outer walls, and the band at the back, leaving an open area for dancing.
The four of them sat where the music wouldn't be too disturbing to Joey, and as they settled back to watch, the band broke into a kind of country-western piece, with Joe's father pumping out the sounds on the accordion, a young woman playing fiddle, Pike on the guitar, and Hank on the bass. Stepping forward, Pike started singing in French.
Couples moved into the dance area and soon the place filled with people two-stepping around the dance floor, old folks dancing with old, kids dancing with kids, old dancing with young, it didn't seem to matter. Before long, the barn was a kaleidoscope of dancers moving, feet stomping, hands clapping, the collective beating a red-hot rhythm.
It was such an infectious sound Anne began clapping with the music too, and as she watched, she found the dancers inspiring, intimidating and energizing, all at the same time.
Joe stood and said to her, "Are you ready?"
Anne looked at Joey in his infant carrier. "We can't just leave Joey unattended."
"He won't be. He's got his guardian angels to watch him."
Leona laughed and patted Anne's arm. "Joe's right. Y'all go ahead now and dance and make new memories, but I'm bettin' some old ones will start to come back."
Joe offered his hand to Anne, and when she took it, she said, "I don't remember anything about this."
"Doesn't matter. I'll have you dancin' like a Cajun before you know it."
Joe was right, and soon Anne found herself following him in a basic two-step that had her laughing and twisting and turning and saying in an excited voice, "I'm getting it!"
Several dances later, the dance ended with Joe grabbing Anne and swinging her around, leaving her dizzy and laughing. "I loved that," she said, when she could finally get her breath.
"And I love you, sugah," Joe said in seriousness. "Don't ever question that, no matter what you hear from your family."
Anne looked into sober eyes, surprised at Joe's change from dancing and grinning, to a humorless, concerned face. "Why are you bringing my family up now?" She'd all but forgotten they existed and was happy to keep it that way.
"Because you'll be seein' them again, and you need to be ready."
"Well, I don't want to think about it tonight. I just want to dance with you."
Sometime later, after joining the dancers in a chain dance where everyone participated, Pike stepped to the microphone when it was over and announced the end of the dancing, and before long, the barn was clear of people, vehicles began leaving, and Anne found herself happy and exhilarated in a way she couldn't remember.
As they walked toward Joe's house, with Joe carrying the infant carrier with Joey asleep in it, while also holding Anne's hand, Anne glanced across the cane field and saw lights in the big house, as if every room was lit up, except one, the room Joe pointed out as her bedroom.
Unlike the snatches of mem
ory that came when she was with Joe, and they were coming more frequently now, the house across the cane field and its occupants remained in obscurity, and she wished it could stay that way.
It was odd that after six months of searching her mind for answers to the most basic questions about herself: Who was she? Where did she come from? Who was the father of her son? Who was her family? The one question she had no interest in was the last. She had no idea what fabrications her family would tell her about Joe, but whatever they were, she knew Joe loved her unconditionally, and she'd hold that in her heart and hope her family would forget she existed and let her go. It was an unrealistic dream, but for now, it allowed her love for Joe to grow without the complication her family would bring into their lives.
CHAPTER 8
Wearing rain slickers, chaps, and rubber boots with spurs on them, Joe and his brothers headed back to the ranch after having rounded up a herd of cattle they'd purchased earlier in the spring, which they'd moved to a nearby marsh to fatten them over the winter. The drive meant first ferreting out scattered groups of cows from thickets and swampy areas, then moving them as a cohesive herd across a stretch of wetland where each lunge of the horses sent sprays of muddy water into the air and against their faces.
The drive would have taken considerably longer if not for their team of six, high-spirited, Catahoula cattle dogs, who loped along with them on the return trip, tongues lolling, tails wagging, as if they'd just been on a great adventure.
Having settled the cattle in a fenced grazing area and leaving them standing knee-deep in marsh while munching on succulent cordgrasses, Joe was anxious to get home. They'd left at dawn and he was apprehensive about leaving Anne. Ever since her visit to the doctor they'd heard nothing from the Harrisons, which was fine with Anne, but for him, it was like the calm before the storm.
Tall Dark Stranger (Cajun Cowboys Book 1) Page 9
