by Sandra Hill
Geek peeked in just then and said, “We’re ordering a pitcher. Did you want… hey, something wrong, bud?”
Cage shook his head. “Nah, I’m just checkin’ out the old photographs here. That’s my dad there.” Cage had every intention of borrowing the picture at some point and having it duplicated. He was fairly certain it was the only copy.
“Whoa, he looks just like you.”
“He does?”
“Yeah. Same grin,” Geek said.
At one time, Cage would have denied any resemblance, but he didn’t now. How odd! Even odder, as they walked out of the office, Cage said, “Did I tell you my father wrote the song ‘Prison Is a State of Mind’?”
“No shit! I saw a special on Johnny Cash one time where he sang that song. I’m pretty sure he said that he’d met the songwriter.”
After that, Cage was much more relaxed as the group sat around a table in the dark bar, which was mostly empty in this late-afternoon lull before the dinner and evening crowds. They all had beers in front of them, and a heaping pile of crawfish, or mudbugs as they were known in the South, sitting on the newspaper-covered table.
Cage flexed his hands and told the guys, “Watch an expert, boys. This is how it’s done.” He then demonstrated the proper procedure for breaking off the head and sucking the juices from it, then cracking open the tail horizontally along its back, pulling out the succulent meat to pop into his mouth.
“I used to have a T-shirt about this very thing,” F.U. said. “SHUCK ME, SUCK ME, EAT ME RAW.”
“That refers to oysters, dickhead,” Cage told him.
“Same thing,” F.U. insisted.
“Not even a little.”
It took them a while to get the knack but they eventually agreed with Cage when he declared, “Crawfish is food of the gods, next to hot wings.”
They talked as they ate, and soon Cage was caught up on all the news back at the base, who was doing whom, who got done wrong, the usual.
“It’s amazing that you just fell on this case,” Slick commented to Cage as he wiped his hands and mouth on a paper towel. “This whole thing could have developed into a major SNAFU, without anyone ever knowing about it.”
“Forget SNAFU. It could have been a monumental catastrophe,” said K-4 as he wiped some foam off his mouth with the back of his hand.
New Orleans was a big city, but it turned Cage’s stomach to think that Emelie might have been in danger from what these fanatics were planning. Still might be. Somehow he would make sure before that time that she was nowhere in the vicinity of the parade route on that day.
“Well, there have been rumblings for a long time about another ‘event’ coming down involving Hassid but no details. We probably wouldn’t have got the details in time,” Geek said after taking a long draw on his brew.
“Sometimes that’s the way the best operations go down. Chance can never be minimized.” Cage shrugged his opinion. Often the least likely sources proved most helpful, and missions deemed sure things were total FUBARs.
“Well, good for you for recognizing the possibility of a threat from the beginning,” Slick said, raising his beer in a toast to him. The others joined in, “Hear, hear!”
Cage shrugged. It was what they were trained to do.
In fact, it was hard to believe, as they sat here talking and drinking casually, that they were involved in an urgent mission that might have the potential for disaster. But SEALs were trained professionals, working with other trained professionals. Teamwork. And you took your breaks when you could, always alert to danger and a call to action. Each of them had secure phones attached to their belts.
“Things are really heating up in Iran again,” K-4 remarked. “I expect we’ll be deployed there next. When do you think you might be back, Cage?”
“I really don’t know. My knee is almost a hundred percent, and I could go off on short missions, but I doubt if Iran will be on my radar anytime soon.”
“You are coming back, aren’t you?” Slick asked.
“Of course. Why would you ask that?”
Slick exchanged glances with JAM and Geek, and he knew his buddies had been talking about him. What else was new? “Well?”
“You wouldn’t be the first guy to give up the teams for a woman,” Slick said.
“I never, ever said I was thinkin’ about giving up SEALs. Well, the only time I ever mentioned the possibility was when I first told Commander MacLean about my grandmother. I said that, if I couldn’t have an extended liberty, I would quit. It’s that important that I stay with MawMaw until the end.”
“Don’t get your tail in a twist,” JAM told him. “No one’s accusing you of anything. And by the way, how come you told us you had a brother Phillipe?”
“Did I say that?” Cage continued to eat.
“Damn straight you did.”
“I also told you I had a sister Doris who was a nymphomaniac, as I recall. Then there was my cousin Brutus who whistled ‘Dixie’ every time he whacked off. And a great-uncle Larry Jo, who was descended from Robert E. Lee.” At the look of consternation on their faces, he added, “Pfff! You guys are a bunch of gossips. You’re worse than—”
“Tante Lulu?” JAM and Geek said at the same time, grinning at him like idiots.
He couldn’t stay mad at guys like that.
“We wondered if you made up all those stories. We even wondered if you had a MawMaw,” Geek said.
“The best liars are ones who mix truth with fiction,” K-4 told them.
“What, you’re suddenly a bullshit philosopher?” F.U. remarked to K-4.
“Kiss my ass,” K-4 retorted to F.U.
“No thanks,” F.U. said, pleased with himself that he’d been able to goad K-4.
“Hey, you guys should come back with us to Tante Lulu’s for dinner,” Geek said to Slick, K-4, and F.U. “You have never met a woman like Louise Rivard in all your life.”
“Is she hot?” F.U. wanted to know. He’d already got shot down after hitting on one of the waitresses. “Louise the Tease?”
“Yeah, she’s hot. Just your style,” JAM said, with a straight face even.
“Hoo-yah!” F.U. exclaimed with his version of a lascivious grin.
Cage was still laughing as he drove back to his grandmother’s cottage. Tante Lulu might be the woman to finally straighten out F.U.
He wasn’t laughing when he traveled down the last stretch of the single-lane highway toward his grandmother’s cottage… and he passed an ambulance coming in the opposite direction.
Secrets always come back to haunt us…
Two days later, Emelie walked down the corridor toward Miss MaeMae’s room in the Houma hospital. She was carrying a potted pink rosebush, which she intended to replant for Justin’s grandmother once she got home. So many times, the abundance of cut flowers in a hospital room made it feel more like a funeral parlor. At least a potted plant gave the promise of going home.
It was a good thing Miss MaeMae had a private room because Emelie saw immediately that it was overflowing with visitors, and they were all talking at once, including a few ladies from Our Lady of the Bayou Rosary Society, who were murmuring over their beads in the corner. They finished up, but the others in the room didn’t even notice when they waved and blew kisses as they left the room.
“This is my nephew Daniel LeDeux. He’s an on-collie-jest. He and his twin brother, Aaron, moved here from Alaska,” Tante Lulu told Miss MaeMae from one side of the bed, where a tall handsome man in a dark suit was examining her medical charts. He was thirty-something and drop-dead gorgeous, like all the LeDeux men. “Daniel’s gonna tell us what’s what.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and told Miss MaeMae and Justin, whose back was to Emelie, “I was a pediatric oncologist. I’m no longer practicing, but I can tell you that your doctor is doing everything possible. With proper bed rest—”
“See, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ ta say. You need ta stay here in the hospital and rest,” Justin interjected. Emelie
could tell by his wrinkled clothes that he hadn’t slept in days.
“That’s not really what—” Daniel tried to say. To no avail.
Miss MaeMae was on a rant, insisting, “I doan care what ya say, Justin Joseph LeBlanc. I’m goin’ home. I aim ta die in mah own bed in mah own time with fresh gumbo on the stove and Elvis playin’ on the stereo, not some dumb piped-in Yankee music.”
What “Summer in the City” had to do with Yankees, Emelie wasn’t sure.
But Justin was equally insistent. “That’s fine, but I’ve hired a nurse to stay with you when I can’t be there. It’s bad enough that you fired the home care worker after I got here, without telling me, by the way. We’re not gonna have another episode where you pass out for lack of sufficient oxygen.”
“Doan take life so serious, boy. None of us gets out alive,” Miss MaeMae joked.
Justin was not amused.
“Pfff! I passed out ’cause I was laughin’ so hard at Tante Lulu tellin’ us ’bout her trip to a Bourbon Street adult store named Mother Hubbard’s Adult Cupboard.”
“Actually, it was when I was tellin’ ya ’bout the rabbit that vibrated its little wee-wee that ya almos’ bust a gut,” Tante Lulu corrected the lady in the bed.
Miss MaeMae was fighting a grin.
“I don’t care if you laugh your ass off,” Justin asserted. “Unless you’re willin’ ta have a nurse at least part of the time, I’m not signin’ you out of here.”
“And who says yer my boss fer any kinda signin’ out?”
The grandmother and grandson glared at each other, with Miss MaeMae saying finally, “Yer as nervous as a hooker at a Holy Roller convention. Lighten up, boy.”
“Nervous? Nervous? How about ready to pull my hair out frustrated?” Justin practically shouted.
“It ain’t fitten fer you ta talk ta your grandma thataway,” Tante Lulu tried to interject.
This fussing couldn’t be doing Miss MaeMae any good.
“Excuse me,” Emelie said loudly, stepping into the room.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Hi, Miss MaeMae,” she said, walking over to the bed next to Justin and kissing the old lady on the cheek. “Now you don’t look so bad. Here I was expecting to see you all weak and frail. You didn’t sound frail to me when I stepped in.”
Justin, who hadn’t shaved in two days and looked as disreputable as he was, pinched her on the butt, but she ignored him and continued, “I brought you some pink roses. When you get home, I was thinking I could plant them against the chicken pen. Don’t you think they would look good there? You could watch them grow from your rocker on the back porch.”
“That is so nice of you, dear. Put them over there on the windowsill where I can see them, next to the St. Jude statue Tante Lulu brought,” Miss MaeMae said.
“Pink roses, huh?” Justin murmured. “Where’d you get that idea, chère?”
“Shhh. Behave yourself.”
“Emelie, this is my nephew Daniel. He’s a special doctor,” Tante Lulu said.
They all understood that Tante Lulu meant specialist. Was that a bad sign that they were coming to understand her particular lingo?
Daniel rolled his eyes again and said, “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said.
Justin growled behind her. He actually growled.
“Thank ya fer comin’ all this way ta see me,” Miss MaeMae said. “That was a long drive fer so late in the day.”
“I had some other errands to do down the bayou,” one of which should be showing up soon, “and besides, I wanted to invite Justin here to one of the Mardi Gras balls being held this Friday in N’awleans.”
“You mean, one of those black tie, pike-up-the-ass, formal affairs?” Justin asked with distaste.
“Yes, but very nice, and for a good cause.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t go because my grandmother is insistin’ on comin’ home tomorrow and I need to stay with her.” He put on a fake face of regret.
“Who sez ya cain’t go?” Miss MaeMae said. “I ’spect I kin abide a nurse once in a while.”
They all laughed then, including Justin, who had been finagled into attending the type of formal event he hated. Too bad!
“Besides that, I don’t have my dress whites with me. Oh, well, maybe some other time.”
“You can rent a tux at the Speedy Tux Shop in Houma,” Emelie said.
“Damn!”
“An’ they have every color in the world. Black, white, green, lavender, even pink. Oooh, oooh, oooh, I even saw one in cammy-flahg.”
“That is just super,” Justin said and gave Emelie a cross-eyed look of annoyance.
Daniel LeDeux made his excuses and left, winking at Emelie as he passed, just to annoy Justin, she assumed. Tante Lulu was fidgeting around the room, tidying up, waiting for Charmaine to come pick her up, although Justin offered to drive her home. A nurse was checking Miss MaeMae’s vitals.
“Ya oughta go to Charmaine’s shop before yer ball,” Tante Lulu told Emelie. “She’d give yer hair a good Texas mousse. Ya know what they say, ‘The higher the hair, the closer ta God.’ Plus, she knows this place where ya kin buy these nipple rings what pinch yer nipples soz they stick out nice and proud in yer ball gown, jist lak cherries ripe fer pluckin’. I tried ’em myself but I couldn’t find them suckers nohow.”
Miss MaeMae giggled in the bed. The nurse almost dropped her thermometer. And Justin was bent over at the waist trying not to laugh out loud while murmuring, “Please, God, let there be cherry pluckin’.”
“’Course you got a pretty good bosom; so mebbe you doan need any help in that regard. Me, mah biggest failin’ is no tushie. Somehow I lost my hiney about twenty years ago and cain’t get it back even with those panties with the built-in butt cheeks.” When she realized everyone was staring at her, she said, “What? A gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do ta succeed in this world. Doan men wear tight pants ta show off their packages?” She was staring pointedly at the crotch of Justin’s jeans.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, the nurse left, but there were new arrivals. Claude Gaudet and Francine Lagasse. Emelie had stopped at her father’s house on the way there and given him orders. Apologize or he wouldn’t see her again.
“Miss MaeMae,” Claude said, stepping up to her bedside.
“Wait a damn minute,” Justin said and started toward her father.
Emelie tugged on his arm and led him over to the window. “Now you listen here, Justin. My father has some things to say to your grandmother, and to you, and you’re going to let him say his piece. You’re not going to like some things you learn, but you’re going to keep your mouth shut, and think before you act. You’re going to do this for your grandmother, y’hear?”
He hesitated, then gave her a little salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
They both stood at the end of the bed. Tante Lulu wouldn’t leave now if St. Jude was standing in the hall. Or Richard Simmons. Well, maybe then, but it would take a miracle of that magnitude to uproot her from this juicy event.
Francine backed into the corridor, within view if her father needed her help, but wanting no part in this particular travesty.
“Miss MaeMae, when ya came ta my house offerin’ fergivness, I treated ya poorly.”
“When? When did she go to the bastard’s house?” Justin wanted to know.
“Shhh. Last week,” Emelie said. “Be quiet and let him talk.”
Justin arched a brow at her bossiness.
“I’m the one that shoulda come ta you beggin’ fergiveness, instead of ya havin’ ta take the first step. I’m not proud of what I done. I shoulda never made those threats ta you and Rufus all those years ago. I used my influence with the bank ta get poor folks ta do my will, and it was wrong. I am deeply sorry.”
Miss MaeMae patted his hand where it rested on her blanket. “I already tol’ ya that ya have mah fergiveness. From others?” She glanced at Justin. “Ahm not so sure.”
With a sigh of resignation, her father turned to Justin, who stood shoulders back with all his military bearing, staring down at the older man. When had her father shrunk in size, or was it just that Justin had grown? The disparity was alarming.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Justin gritted out.
“Ya already know what I did with Judge Benoit ta get you out of Loo-zee-anna. Ya weren’t the man for mah Emelie then, and ya probably still aren’t, but thass not fer me ta say anymore. I regret mah methods, and I might even have been wrong about the bad seed/bad blood business. You’ve certainly proven that a man can rise above his roots.”
“If that’s an apology, then shove it,” Justin snarled. “I’m proud of my roots.”
“I’m sayin’ this all wrong. I’m tryin’ ta say I shouldn’t have judged ya by yer family but by yer deeds, which were mighty bad, as I recall.”
Justin tilted his head, conceding that point.
“No question, I handled things ass backwards and too many folks suffered as a result. It wasn’t enough fer me ta get ya away from mah little girl, I wanted ta make sure that ya never came back, or that she never went with you. So I took a banker with me ta visit yer grandparents. Yer PawPaw was sufferin’ some financial straits with his shrimp boat at the time. I knew that, and I had the bank threaten ta call in the loan if they let any letters or phone calls pass between you and Emelie.” He sighed deeply, as if he’d gotten a huge weight off his chest. “Thass what I done, and I’m not proud of myself either.”
“Those letters you were clutching that day at my grandmother’s, were they my letters to you, or yours to me?” Justin asked Emelie.
“Mine to you. Your grandmother saved them.”
“And the ones I wrote to you?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to her father. “Did you intercept them?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Burned them, every single one.”
Emelie could see the rage boil up in Justin. His face was flushed and his hands were fisting and unfisting at his sides. She feared more than anything that he would hit her father, and with him being so much bigger and stronger, it wouldn’t be a fair fight.
