Echoes in the Bayou

by Dukes, Ursula

  "It almost sounds too good to be true," the young woman said.

  "Oh it's true sugar. Mister DuPonte wants nothing more than to live his life up North with his family. You know sugar, there are still some folks around here that like to help out and Mister DuPonte is one of those people. He also told me to let you all have the keys right here and now and that you can go ahead and move on in whenever you're ready. So here you go," she said and handed them the keys. "I'll be back next week and we can sign all the paperwork. In the meantime enjoy living in your new home."

  The young couple exulted in joy and thanked the realtor repeatedly before watching her drive away.

  "Is it me or does the place look even prettier than when we first looked at it?" The young woman wrapped her arms around her husband.

  "No, you're right, it does look prettier." He walked up the stairs and onto the front porch. "I could have sworn that these columns were crumbling the last time we were here and now look at them, why they're as good as new."

  "I'm sure it was just your imagination honey, you were hoping to find something wrong with the place just so you wouldn’t have to hear the words of rejection come out of the realtor's mouth."

  "Well that's because I was sure that he wouldn’t accept our offer, it was low but it's all we can afford right now," he said to her and rubbed her swollen belly.

  "It was all meant to be sweetheart, Mister DuPonte accepted our offer, and he even included the furnishings. So let's take this as a sign that this plantation was meant for us and I'm told by the locals that the house has quite a history and you know how much I love finding out the history of these old places," she said. He could sense her curiosity growing already.

  He gathered his wife into his arms. "That gardenia shrub is the most vibrant shrub that I've ever seen. And it looks to have doubled in size since the last time we were here," he said as they walked over to it.

  "It smells lovely." His wife inhaled its scent.

  "It may smell lovely but it certainly isn’t the loveliest thing here, not by far. You my dear wife are the loveliest thing here and I'll tell you something else too."

  "And what's that?"

  "You’re my love, and my love for you will cease to exist, when those beautiful gardenias start blooming in the harshest of winter."

  And somewhere off in the distance, the soothing sound of a loon bird wail echoed through the bayou.

  The End