The Convent Rose (The Roses)

by Lynn Shurr

  “Grandma, you came!” Bodey lifted the little lady off her feet and twirled her around.

  Blue eyes sparkling, the elderly woman regained her balance and pecked Bodey’s cheek. “We would have been here sooner, but traffic was terrible, and no parking to be found at all. We had to walk from a lot four blocks away. Now, let me meet this Eve you are so fond of.” Elsie O’Shea made it clear from the start that art was not her purpose for going to so much trouble, though she did pause to admire the icons and Bodey’s portrait.

  “Eve.” Bodey separated her neatly from a conversation with a man who reminded him too much of Hardy Courville like a cowboy on a good cutting horse. “I’d like you to meet my grandma, Elsie O’Shea, my Aunt Bridget Cochran, and her daughters Shannon and Chloe.”

  “I’m so pleased that you came.” Eve pressed the arthritic hand of Elsie O’Shea gently as she would those of the elderly nuns.

  “You painted all these holy pictures, did you? And Bodey half-naked,” Grandma O’Shea asked.

  “Or half-clothed as the case may be. Guilty, but you should have seen the other artist’s interpretation of your grandson.” Eve laughed and let her eyes rove toward Bodey.

  “Pick out your favorite. I want you to have one of Eve’s paintings,” Bodey insisted.

  “We hardly met, and he wanted to be buying me a new car and a house, but I said I was happy in my little apartment, and it’s rare that I drive anymore. Still, a holy picture would be a fine thing to have. Those angels are mighty handsome fellows. What do you think, Bridget? Gabriel or Michael?”

  “Both,” said Bodey.

  “I’ll give you a special price,” Eve replied.

  “No special prices, I keep tellin’ you. I see the big Virgin sold and some of your small landscapes.”

  “Yes, evidently someone has been passing the word that I am highly collectible.”

  “That so?” Bodey preened. “Glad to hear the gallery workers are doing their jobs. You ladies want something to eat? All they got here is cheese, grapes, and a wine they must have bought at a convenience store, but I’ll take y’all for barbecue when this shindig is over.”

  Bridget and her girls moved toward the meager refreshment table. Mrs. O’Shea would not to be lured away by drink and crackers.

  “So, you come from Rainbow, Louisiana, the town where miracles happen?”

  “I’ve lived there for the past ten years and graduated from the Academy. As for miracles, I can’t say I’ve seen any.”

  “Oh, but you have. Bodey moved to Rainbow, and in a few months he found the father he’s been looking for these many years. That was surely a miracle for my Patrick. I feared he might kill himself after his accident, he got so low. I kept saying, you might never know what good things life will bring you if you aren’t around to see. Later, he thought that was getting the education he ran away from and having a job he loves, but all along Bodey waited for him.”

  “I suppose you could see a divine hand in that,” Eve said neutrally.

  “And then, consider my best friend, Maydell Folse. She went to Rainbow on a retreat, her arthritis so bad she couldn’t kneel in prayer and beseeched the Blessed Mother Leontine to give her some relief. The next week the FDA approved a new drug that gave her back almost her full range of motion. Miracles, my dear, aren’t always announced by apparitions or angels. Sometimes, it’s the FDA.”

  Eve swallowed a chuckle along with a sip of cheap wine. “Who am I to say it’s not?” she replied. When the gallery owner towed her away to meet a potential client, Eve gratefully fled her tiny interrogator.

  Elsie O’Shea eyed the short, black dress and loose blonde hair as Eve swayed away. “Not after your money, now, is she, Bodey?”

  “I keep offerin’ it to her, but she keeps pushing it back—like some other woman I know who turned down a new car and a nicer place to live.”

  Holding little plastic plates of fruit and cheese, his new female relatives regrouped around Bodey. “What do y’all think of my girl?” he asked them.

  “Gorgeous,” answered Chloe. “I wish I had hair like that and legs so long.”

  “Love her dress,” said Shannon.

  “Very talented,” replied Aunt Bridget.

  “But is she a good Catholic girl, Bodey?” Grandma Elsie asked. “She doesn’t seem to believe in miracles.”

  “Well, she drags me to Mass every Sunday, Grandma.”

  “That’s good, then. She cares for your soul, and probably your body, too, judging by that picture, but she seems a bit fancy to make a ranch wife. I loved my husband and followed him where he needed to be, but once he was gone, I couldn’t wait to get back to the city, and I came from much humbler stock than her.”

  “My small spread in Rainbow would hardly be called a ranch by Texas standards, and that’s where I plan to live with Eve. Mama had a sunroom that would make her a good studio for now, and I could build her a bigger place later. It’s not like I’d be askin’ Eve to cook for the hands or stay up nights with colicky calves.”

  “I suppose it might work, but don’t get your hopes up or your heart broken, my only grandson.” Elsie gave Bodey a butterfly light pat on the cheek.

  When the opening closed, Bodey herded his women to the barbecue dive where they gorged on pulled pork sandwiches and fresh cut French fries heavy with grease. He saw his new relations back to their car, and escorted Eve to the hotel where he’d booked a suite.

  “Too tired?” he asked Eve when he had her lying on fresh white sheets, her blonde hair spread across the pillow. He ran a tanned hand down her pale body all the way to the cleft between her legs. She shivered.

  “No. I feel like celebrating.”

  Bodey leaned over to take her breast in his mouth.

  “Bodey?”

  He nodded his head to show he was listening.

  “What did your new family think of me?”

  He sighed and fell back on the pillow next to her.

  “Don’t stop,” Eve said.

  “Can’t talk with my mouth full. Let’s see, you are gorgeous and talented. Grandma likes that you go to Mass, but is worried that you don’t believe in miracles.”

  “I could have used one when my father, and then my mother died, and my boyfriend left me, and the bills piled up. I prayed for one, but as the years passed, I came to believe what Sr. Helen once said to me. God gave me the talent and the strength to see me through, and I would have to be content with that.”

  “What would be a real miracle to you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know anymore. You found your daddy. Maybe mine would be having my father back to walk me down the aisle at my wedding.”

  “I can’t make that happen, honey, and you won’t let me pay off your bills, but if you’d just hush, I’d like to do a little miracle workin’ of my own. The dead has been raised down there, and he wants to come home to paradise.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Everyone attending declared the renewal ceremony of Amanda and Hardy Courville to be a beautiful and heartfelt occasion. Amanda wore a white lace dress underlaid with gold in a style less tailored than usual, and her two daughters, also in white, served as her attendants. Hardy lined up with his two sons, all in matching gray suits. When Hardy departed from the standard ceremony to announce loudly that he would worship his wife with his body all the days of their lives, all four teenagers cringed while their mother blushed and smiled. The priest, shaken and wordless for a moment, managed to gain his composure and finish the ceremony, but generally all the witnesses enjoyed the comment, especially Bodey who whispered to Eve that he’d like to say the same if he ever got around to marrying.

  The bridal party recessed down the aisle of the nun’s chapel with the Courville rose window and the Niles side windows throwing jewels of color on them as the strong May sunlight streamed through their panels. Amanda and Hardy paused to pose for a photograph under an arbor draped in pure, white roses shedding their petals like summer snow in the heat. Those roses reminded Bodey o
f Eve. Noreen and Rusty always went on about their special flower, a small yellow blossom named the Courville rose after her family and common as dirt around Rainbow, but seldom found elsewhere. Rusty had courted Noreen with a nosegay of them. While Bodey pointed out just how gay he thought that was back when he was a teenager, he saw the use of such a gesture now.

  He leaned toward Eve who watched the scene with a smile on her pale pink lips and joy in her gray eyes for the reunited couple, not one bad thought or ill wish sent Hardy’s way for his transgressions. Bodey thought the man got off easy. He whispered to Eve, “That’s your flower, a pure white convent rose. That’s how I think of you. I want to plant them all over my ranch.”

  “You already have lots of white Cherokee roses growing in the ditches.”

  “But, they are common and thorny, nothing like you.” He laid it on as best a cowboy could.

  “Oh Bodey, right now I’m more like that wisteria grove, all tangled up inside and gone wild.”

  “That’s fine with me, too. We can grow both at the Three B’s, children, too. Just how many did you say you wanted? Because I can give ’em to you.”

  “Stop it! This isn’t the time or the place. Let’s get out of the sun.”

  Okay, so more time and more prayer. Bodey snorted like a frustrated bull and followed Eve to the refreshments. The heat and humidity drove the guests directly to the shade of white tents set up on the lawn and into the care of the caterer’s assistants offering trays of chilled champagne and fruit punch. Lines formed to fill plates with cucumber and shrimp salad finger sandwiches and tiny puff pastry cups of crawfish etouffee. The renewal feast was as dainty and tasteful as the bride herself.

  Bodey and Eve watched the cutting of a full-sized wedding cake, white with a raspberry filling. Bodey shifted around unhappily, loosening his shirt collar with a finger.

  “What’s the matter? Missing cold beer and potato chips?” Eve asked.

  “And a good ball game on TV, too. I figure if I eat a dozen of these, it might make a meal.” Bodey popped the last pastry cup on his plate into his mouth and swallowed. “Red Courville gets on my nerves sometimes, tellin’ people he had those flowers flown all the way in from New York for his bride and invitin’ all the tourists and gawkers in for cake.

  “Lily of the valley doesn’t grow here, so it’s special.”

  “No kiddin’. Any minute now one of those strangers is gonna ask for my autograph, and we’ll be here all afternoon. Here comes one now dressed up like the captain on Gilligan’s Island and lookin’ like him, too.”

  Eve turned her head to where Bodey gestured, but the big-bellied man in the nautical hat and blue blazer veered aside and headed for the restrooms. “Not a fan of rodeo, I guess,” she remarked wryly.

  Amanda Courville did approach them, however, floating over the grass in her high-waisted gown. “Eve, I want you to have this bouquet. I have a confession to make, and this glorious day is the right time. I thought once you and Hardy were having an affair. Why, at the art opening, he didn’t even ask me to stand with him at the unveiling. I was inside ‘making things nice for Eve’ like a good wife. I barely spoke to you that evening.”

  “Think nothing of it. A lot was going on that night, too much.” Eve raised the hand-tied bouquet of lily of the valley to her nose and sniffed the heady fragrance of the tiny belled flowers.

  “But then, I looked over to where Hardy stood talking to the Sisters, and suddenly, it was as if he saw me for the first time in years.”

  Tears welled up in Amanda’s eyes. Bodey whipped out a clean handkerchief from his suit pocket and shoved it her way. Women crying made him want to run in the opposite direction. She could keep the hankie, or did they call them pocket squares now?

  “So sorry, I’ve been weepy lately.” Amanda dabbed her eyes carefully and lowered her voice. “It’s the baby. Can you believe, forty-two and expecting a fifth child? Hardy is very excited about it. I think—I think it happened that night at the art opening when we went back into the office.” Her cheeks suffused with a delicate pink.

  Speaking of the devil, Red Courville broke into their group and put his arm around Amanda. He offered her a flute of bubbling beverage.

  “Sparkling cider for the little mother. She told you, didn’t she? I don’t even want to know which sex it is since we got two of both. This one just seals the deal as far as I’m concerned. Makes the day even happier.”

  “Congratulations.” Bodey offered his hand. “Y’all got a great wife and a baby on the way. You take good care of ’em, now.”

  “Eve, I’d like to commission one of your Virgin and child icons to celebrate this birth. As for you two, I hope it works out.” Amanda nodded toward the bouquet in Eve’s hand. “Oh, I see Sr. Helen and Sr. Inez over there. Hardy, we must speak to them.”

  “Absolutely. Those old—holy ladies showed me I already had the best woman on earth. No offense, Eve.”

  “None taken, Hardy. Tell the Sisters we’ll be coming to visit shortly.”

  As Hardy and Amanda moved away, Eve caught a glimpse of the man in the blue blazer and captain’s hat ducking behind the four-tiered wedding cake slowly being disassembled into slices by the caterer. “Your fan is back, Bodey. It looks like he’s too afraid to come over here.”

  “His problem, then. I don’t want to get a line started. Look here…” He dug in his coat pocket and withdrew some folded newspaper clippings. “Grandma sent these for you from the Dallas paper last Sunday, front page of the Arts section. Great pictures of you and me and a good review, too.”

  Eve skimmed the article and smiled. “Not raves, but some nice comments. ‘Eve Burns manages to imbue even her static icons with her serene spirit which spills over even more noticeably into her landscapes.’ ‘Judging by the one example of famous bull rider, Bodey Landrum, Burns could have made a career as a portrait artist as well.’ Tell, your grandmother I really appreciate her sending this along.”

  “Let me get it framed for you,” Bodey offered.

  “Uh-oh, here comes your fan, sort of hiding behind one of the wedding programs he picked up. Why don’t you just go sign it for him and get it over with?”

  “Guy looks familiar. You know him?”

  “I doubt it—wait! Bodey, that’s my father, older, his hair all turned white and much heavier, but it’s him, really him.”

  “Well then, I guess we’d better go over and say hello.”

  Bodey took Eve’s arm and felt her trembling. The man had pulled his cap down. Only a pair of white brows and gray eyes showed between the brim and the program. As they approached, the mystery guest moved from the tent, and looking around, went back to the chapel. Eve and Bodey followed, bursting into the cool, air-conditioned sanctuary on a blast of hot air from outside.

  Eve’s father waited for them in the last pew. He held out his arms. “Princess, I’m back, but if your mother sees me, she’ll have me dead and buried, then take all my money.”

  Seeing Eve’s stricken face, Bodey gave him the news. “Your ex-wife is the one dead and buried these last ten years, Mr. Burns. Cancer got her, and she left Eve with a mountain of bills that still aren’t paid off.” Eve might be thrilled to see the man, but Bodey didn’t plan on letting him off easy like Hardy Courville.

  “Well, she wasn’t my responsibility anymore,” Burns claimed, and seeing Bodey’s look of disgust added, “Of course, I would have helped my baby out if I’d been around.”

  “Yeah, fathers are supposed to take care of their kids. Husbands are supposed to be true to their wives. Doesn’t always work out that way, and words are cheap.”

  “Bodey, please, he’s here now. Dad, where have you been? How did you find me?”

  Dickie Burns withdrew a newspaper clipping from his pants pocket. “Fellow named Huntington left a Dallas paper on my boat. Said he’d done his wife’s art opening and deserved a week off to go after marlin. There you were, all grown up, a real artist, and pretty as a princess. I wanted to see you, tell you h
ow proud I am of you. Just a quick trip to the mainland. I go by Rich Kuhl now. Get it, Dickie Burns becomes Rich Kuhl.”

  “Clever,” said Bodey sourly. “It’s my guess you had money stashed in an offshore account to keep you all these years.”

  “Safe from my creditors and the IRS, yes. Killed me to scuttle the Princess Eve, though. She was a beautiful ship, beautiful like my only daughter. I could have ended up in jail. You understand, baby?” Rich asked his child, taking her hands in his.

  “I suppose. I wish you had let me know you were alive.”

  “Your mother would have turned me in if you ever let it slip. Even now, I can’t stay here. What I want is for you to come back to the islands with me. I have a nice place near the beach on a small cay, a good business going, four charter boats and lots of cheap labor. You can paint all you want. No more waitressing for my princess.”

  “You know about that?”

  “Rainbow has always been a small town, whiter now than it used to be. I stopped by that pottery place, and the woman told me you’d either be at the café working or up at the chapel for a friend’s party. They pointed out your house to me. It’s cute, but nothing like what I have in the islands. So how about it?”

  “You come back here after nearly fourteen years after Eve has struggled to pay off her mother’s bills and make something of herself, and you want her to hold out her arms and say all is forgiven? At least my daddy had a real excuse. But this, this is all a big pile of bullshit, and I do know bullshit when I see it.” Bodey spun his dress Stetson on one hand to keep from reaching out and flattening Eve’s old man.

  Rich Kuhl stared at the spinning hat and the toes of Bodey’s boots. “Who the hell is this cowboy? Tell him to go away, Princess, and let us alone.”

  Eve pointed to the smaller picture in the clipping. “He’s Bodey Landrum, four times All-Around Cowboy, five times World Champion Bull Rider.”