by Sandra Hill
“If you only knew…” he thought he heard his grandmother murmur.
“What?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “So ya think all will be forgiven?”
“I have no idea.” Justin stared, suddenly suspicious of her interest in a man no one particularly loved, except maybe Em and Francine.
“Are ya hungry?” she asked. “We got lots of leftovers.”
“Any of that red beans and rice you made on Monday?”
“Plenty,” she said with a smile. “There ain’t nothin’ does a grandmother’s heart more proud than havin’ her family like her cookin’.”
“You should be real proud, then.”
“I am,” she said, standing and patting him on the shoulder. “I am so proud of you.”
And that meant everything in the world to him. A gift, really. Too bad it had taken seventeen years of absence and his grandmother’s illness to bring him to that realization.
Chapter Ten
Baby, please stay…
You look like ten miles of bad bayou road, girl,” Belle said when she came into the shop, carrying a completed ball gown in a clear plastic E & B garment carrier. “I swear, your bags have got bags.”
“Thanks for sharing that,” Emelie said from behind the counter, where she was boxing up two new masks to be picked up by customers that morning.
She wasn’t at all offended by Belle’s comment. She knew how bad she looked. When she’d brushed her teeth this morning, she’d noticed the dark circles under her eyes and tried her best to cover them with makeup. To no avail, apparently.
It was ten days since her father’s heart attack and three weeks until Mardi Gras. The weather had turned chilly… well, chilly for Louisiana, the mid-fifties and wet. A perfect backdrop to her dreary mood.
She had to work every day, but she went back to the bayou every evening, at first to the hospital in Houma and then to her father’s house on the outskirts, once he’d been discharged. If prizes were given for impossible patients, her father would be covered with blue ribbons. He didn’t want to stay in the hospital. He didn’t like being in the first-floor bedroom at home. The food was too hot, or too cold. No, he didn’t bloody damn need help going to the bathroom. Where’s the newspaper? The pills are too big, or too small, or bitter. What would it hurt to have one cigar and one little glass of bourbon? And forget about special diets.
She had to sing at Ella’s tonight, and boy, did her dad raise a stink about that. “I never shoulda let you take those music lessons.”
“You made me stop when I was fourteen.”
“Shoulda never started. A low-down dive is no place for a girl like you,” he’d complained.
“Ella’s is not a dive. It’s a very nice supper club.”
“I never did care for that Ella Pisano. My mother spent way too much time with her when I was growin’ up.”
Blah, blah, blah! She’d heard it all before. Frankly, her grandfather had been a grouch, and Emelie could understand why MawMaw Gaudet would have preferred the company of her friend Ella, who led a more independent, happy life. At some point her father was going to have to accept that Emelie wasn’t a girl anymore.
Further complicating her present stress levels was the fact that her father refused at-home nursing and he needed to start physical therapy. Francine was running herself ragged trying to please him, and Emelie was burning the candle at both ends… soon to be burned out. Top that all off with the tension of having to suppress an overwhelming urge to confront her father with the news she’d heard on his birthday of how he’d threatened Justin’s grandparents.
And then there was Justin himself. She was still attracted, maybe even still in love with him, God forbid! And she knew why he was calling. Pretty it up any way he would, the bottom line was that he wanted to get laid, and she had to nip that temptation in the bud. At some point, whether it was a month from now or twelve months from now, he would be leaving. Again. She didn’t think she could survive the pain. Again.
“Justin called me last night,” Belle said as if reading her mind. “Says he’s sick of your answering machine messages. If you won’t talk to him, he’s going to come over here and carry you out over his shoulder to a quiet place where you can… talk.” Belle grinned on relaying the message.
“So how’s your jelly buddy… JAM?” Emelie had become adept at changing the subject.
“You know what they say about Navy SEALs?”
“I have no idea what they say about Navy SEALs.”
“Great endurance.”
What did that mean? She wasn’t going to ask. No way!
Of course, Belle told her anyway. “Staying power, baby.”
Emelie rolled her eyes at her friend, knowing she was just trying to lift her mood, but instead she would be having Emelie wondering if Justin had “staying power,” too. But then Belle asked, “How’s your dad doing?”
“Medically he seems okay. But Francine needs help in caring for him, and he needs to start physical therapy, but he doesn’t want to leave the house. Same old, same old.”
“Maybe you need to do what’s best for him, regardless of what he wants.”
“That’s what Francine and I decided last night after he had a hissy fit over us wanting him to come to the kitchen to eat, instead of having a tray in his bedroom. I wonder if we couldn’t get a therapist to come to the house at first.”
“Surely there must be folks who do that,” Belle said. “After all, some people can’t get up and travel to outside facilities.”
After Belle went through to her work area, Emelie tried to decide whom to call about arranging therapy. His heart specialist? The physical therapy centers mentioned on the brochure that Francine had in a packet from the hospital? She didn’t want to burden Francine with one more thing. Wait. How about Adele Hebert? She was a physical therapist.
Before giving herself a chance to second-guess herself, Emelie called information for the hospital and put in a call. “Could I please be connected with Adele Hebert?” she asked.
“Dr. Hebert is over at the therapy center this morning,” the receptionist said.
Doctor, huh? Emelie was about to give her name and number and ask for a call back, but the woman continued, “I’ll transfer your call.”
Within seconds, she heard, “Adele Hebert here.”
“Adele… I mean, Dr. Hebert… this is Emelie Gaudet. We talked at the hospital a week or so ago when my father had a heart attack.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. What a coincidence! Justin is here right now.”
Oh, that is just great. I’m calling Justin’s new girlfriend. How awkward is that?
“How’s your father doing?” Adele asked.
“Not so good. That’s why I’m calling. I mean, he seems to have come through the operation fine, but he’s resisting any exercise, at all. Walking to the bathroom is the most we can get him to do.”
“That’s not unusual. Heart patients fear a recurring attack, and therefore avoid the least amount of activity, thinking it will trigger more trauma. In fact, exercise is what they need—with proper diet, of course.”
“Well, what I was wondering, and really, I shouldn’t have bothered you, is—”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m glad to help. And really, any friend of Justin’s is a friend of mine.”
I don’t think so! “Do you know of any therapists who could come to the house initially?”
“Of course. Give me the address and telephone number, and I’ll send someone over tomorrow.”
Emelie gave her Francine’s name and number as a contact person and thanked her profusely for her help.
“My pleasure. I hear you are quite the artist, designing beautiful masks.”
Where did you hear that? Could it have been Justin? She felt an inordinate pleasure at that thought. Which was pathetic, considering that Adele had no doubt heard about her work from someone in Houma. “Yes, I’ve been designing masks for some time, and then five years ago, Belle
Pitot and I opened a shop together here in the Quarter. Do you know Belle?”
“Yes, she dated my older brother at one time.”
Among many others, Emelie thought, but not in a mean way. Belle had been very popular in high school.
“I’d love to stop by sometime,” Adele said.
“I’d love to have you, but not right now. This is my busiest season, at a time when my father needs me, too.”
“Don’t let him manipulate you. Some patients do that to family members, and before you know it, they’re in the hospital themselves.”
“Bingo!”
Adele laughed and said, “Do you want to talk with Justin before we hang up?”
Oh, my God, no! “Uh, not right now. Gotta go. Someone just came into the shop. Thanks again, Dr. Hebert. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Adele,” Dr. Hebert said.
“Bye-bye, Adele.” She clicked off.
Emelie let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That was just great. Now she would be picturing Justin with Adele. And imagining his staying power with her.
He wasn’t the only one singing the blues…
On Saturday morning, a half-dozen members of Our Lady of the Bayou Church Rosary Society arrived to pray with his grandmother. Cage considered that his cue to leave.
It wasn’t a death vigil or anything morbid like that. Apparently, until her illness, MawMaw had belonged to the society and met with the group once a week at the church to say the rosary together for special intentions and then socialize afterward. The women had brought enough food to socialize for a week.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay, MawMaw?” he asked.
“Go,” she said, practically pushing him out the door. “Yer makin’ me nervous, hoverin’ all the time.” She eyed him with a mischievous grin. “Unless ya want ta stay an’ pray with us.”
He left. And now he was driving his Jeep onto the crushed shell driveway of Tante Lulu’s little cottage, where JAM and Geek had been staying for the past ten days. His buddies would have been long gone by now, except that Bernie’s suspicions about a few of his employees had proven well founded. In fact, several more team members might very well be needed before this operation was completed.
Right off, he saw Tante Lulu on her back porch tossing little bits of orange snack food to a monster gator named Useless.
“I really don’t think you should be standin’ so close to that animal,” he said, not for the first time.
“Oh, he’s harmless as a peckerless man in a brothel, as long as a body is feedin’ him Cheez Doodles.”
Did she really say that word? Is it even a word? “Peckerless”? “And when the Cheez Doodles run out?”
“Run like crazy, I s’pose.” She grinned at him. Not one bit frightened, even when Useless let out a loud bellow of impatience that pretty much translated to, Hurry up or I’ll bite your fool head off.
He reached into the bag of Cheez Doodles and grabbed a huge handful, pitching them farther into the yard, past the St. Jude birdbath. Once the animal turned and began to lumber away toward the treats, he headed toward the door, almost knocking his head on the St. Jude wind chimes. The porch rockers were covered with cushions imprinted with images of… what else? St. Jude. And there was a St. Jude doormat, too. As if a visitor didn’t get the message that the saint of hopeless cases ruled here!
Tante Lulu was dressed fairly normal today, probably because of the cool weather, in blue jeans, which had probably been purchased in the children’s department of Walmart, a Ragin’ Cajun sweatshirt, also child size, and white sneakers. Of course, she wore a blond Farrah Fawcett–style wig and enough makeup to plaster a wall.
“I really appreciate your puttin’ up the guys for so long,” he said. “I still say that they can stay in a motel somewhere nearby if you’re being inconvenienced.”
“There ain’t no motels nearby what serve good food. Besides, I enjoy havin’ company.”
“Where are they now?”
“In the kitchen. Computin’. Never saw so much computin’ or talkin’ on cell phones in all mah life.”
Welcome to the twenty-first century, honey. Have you been to the mall lately? Every other person has a phone glued to his or her ear. Silence is no longer golden. Gotta talk 24/7.
“’Course, Jacob goes off ta N’awleans on occasion ta court Belle…”
I hardly think “court” is the right word to use.
“But Darryl jist keeps on computin’. I’m beginnin’ ta wonder if he ain’t visitin’ some of them porno places.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did, and he tol’ me that you know all the best ones.”
Well, I guess I deserved that.
“I wouldn’t mind checkin’ one out, if they had a man what looked like Richard Simmons. Ooh, boy, he could shake his bootie at me anytime. A bootie is a hiney, in case you didn’t know.”
“I know what a bootie is.”
“Some folks still think a bootie is a knitted baby shoe; so it wouldn’t be awful if you dint know.”
She really thought he didn’t know what a bootie was. I would go nuts if I had to live with this dingbat.
“By the by…” They’d just stepped into the kitchen when Tante Lulu finished her babbling by asking Cage, “How’s your lovemakin’ comin’ along?”
His mouth dropped open, but JAM and Geek both grinned, already used to the old lady’s popcorn brain and blunt questions.
“Uh, well,” he stammered, “I haven’t had much time for sex lately.”
“What?” she practically squawked. “I dint mean sex, you idjet. I meant the thunderbolt of love and your path ta wedded bliss. You cain’t jist sit on your tushie and wait fer love ta come, y’know.”
Whoa! “Honestly, there’s been a lot of rain lately, but not a single thunderbolt that I could hear.”
“Then you ain’t listenin’. Mebbe you need another St. Jude statue.”
“Maybe,” he said, just to halt the conversation.
But that didn’t stop the old broad. “You ’spectin’ Emelie ta wait fer you forever?”
“Seems ta me, Em never did much waitin’ for me. She got married, you know.”
“Pfff!” She waved a hand airily. “You mus’ be thicker ’n a bayou stump.”
What was that supposed to mean? He was tired of people hinting at mysteries that he should understand, but didn’t.
“Besides, you cain’t ’spect Emelie to be jist sittin’ with open arms while you’re already tomcattin’ after other wimmen.”
“I beg your pardon.”
JAM and Geek were rolling their eyes, barely suppressing chuckles, and generally enjoying his discomfort.
“Adele Hebert ring any of yer dumb bells?”
“What does Adele Hebert have ta do with anything?” He couldn’t believe he was actually arguing with this bayou dingbat. “She’s my physical therapist.”
“Does Emelie know that?”
“How would Emelie even hear about me and Adele Hebert, not that there’s anything to hear?”
“Aintcha ever heard of the bayou grapevine? Better ’n any cell phone fer communicatin’.” She gave Geek a pointed look as he stared at his computer screen… and snickered.
Cage sank down into a kitchen chair and put his face in his hands.
Luckily, the old lady was already off on another tangent. “Charmaine’s comin’ ta take me grocery shoppin’. There’s plenty a food ta hold you over ’til I get back.” She placed a St. Jude mug of black coffee in front of him. A printer sat on an appliance stand and a fax machine whirred beside the microwave, but between the two laptops on the table were platters of boudin sausages, scrambled eggs, fried green tomatoes, homemade jellies, buttered toast, and fresh-baked biscuits. On the stove, shrimp gumbo simmered away in a huge cast-iron pot. Wide-eyed with wonder, he turned to JAM and Geek.
“I’ve gained five pounds this week,” JAM said proudly.
“We ran six miles this morning,
instead of our usual five,” Geek told him.
Cage was eating well himself with MawMaw’s fine cooking, although they still had a lot of food left over from the cleanup party.
“How’s MaeMae doin’?” Tante Lulu asked with that uncanny ability to sense what a person was thinking.
“Good and bad days. Sometimes she needs the oxygen continuously just to breathe. Other times she can go without it for short periods.” He’d even caught her smoking out on the porch a few times, but it was hard to cut her off completely when smoking was one of the few pleasures she still had. As long as she didn’t do it near her oxygen tank. “Today the church ladies have come ta pray the rosary together.”
“Thass the best thing. Prayer.” She turned to JAM then. “You should start a prayer group here, jist fer family and friends.”
Cage wondered what her family would think of that idea.
“I keep telling her that I’m not a priest,” JAM said to Cage.
“Same as. Almost,” Tante Lulu concluded. “Lessen you be doin’ somethin’ unpriestly with Belle.”
JAM’s face turned red.
Geek let out a whoop of laughter.
“Doan you be settin’ yerself up as a saint, boy. I heard ’bout that invention of yours.” Tante Lulu wagged a forefinger at Geek. “Charmaine tol’ me it’s jist like that warm wax hand massager in her spa, ’ceptin’ it’s used on men down below.”
Now, it was Geek’s turn to blush. Geek was making tons of money as an inventor, selling goods from his website, www.penileglove.com. Enough said!
And speaking of Charmaine. In walked the self-proclaimed bimbo with class, Charmaine LeDeux-Lanier. In keeping with her image, she wore an outfit that matched Tante Lulu’s… their going-to-Piggly-Wiggly-Supermarket attire, he supposed. Except that Charmaine’s jeans were painted on, her Ragin’ Cajun T-shirt was two sizes too small, and instead of sneakers she wore high-heeled red shoes. Her black hair was teased to high heaven, her eyelashes could fan a little wind of their own, and her lips were shiny with sexy red gloss. Lordy, Lordy!
