Acadian Waltz (16 page)

“Wouldn’t
understand?” He snickered and stood from his chair. “Darlin’, I understand a
lot more than you think. For instance, does any of this soul-searching have to
do with the guy who sent you the roses?”

I slapped the
folder closed and shot him a dirty look.

Steve smiled, a
great big smile, showing all of his perfect white teeth. “I see, so the fish
guy is part of the problem.”

“There’s no
problem. And no to what you’re thinking.” I pointed at his smile. “Jean Marc is
just an old friend.” I picked up the red folder and opened my desk drawer.

He leaned in
closer to me. “Has he kissed you?”

I almost dropped
the folder in my hand.

“Aha!” Steve
clapped his hands together, laughing like a hyena. “He did kiss you.” He
stopped laughing and placed his hands on his hips. “Oh, you little slut.”

“It was
nothing,” I insisted as I put the folder away in my desk drawer.

“Bull. Look at
you. You’re blushing.”

I covered my
face with my hands and could feel the heat on my cheeks.

“Must have been one
hell of a kiss…or was there something more?”

“No! None of it
matters now.” I slammed the drawer of my desk closed. “I won’t be going back to
Manchac, and I won’t be seeing Jean Marc again!”

“What about your
uncle? I thought you wanted to keep a closer eye on him?”

I reached for a
patient chart from the pile on the side of my desk. “Uncle Jack is fine. He has
a job working at the Gaspard’s house, and he won’t need me checking up on him
anymore.”

“Avoiding the
problem doesn’t make it go away, Nora.”

I looked up at
him. “Please, Steve, this is hard enough for me without you throwing Jean Marc
in my face all the time.”

Steve threw his
hands up in resignation. “All right, I’ll behave for now, but you do realize
all you have done by cutting back your hours is cram more into the days you are
here. The orthopedic doctors will still expect their reports on time, just like
the operating room and the hospital administration will expect their reports on
time. Seems to me this fiancé of yours is being more of a hindrance than a
help.”

I glimpsed the
tall pile of patient charts next to me and sighed. “I know, but for now this is
what I have to do to keep him and my mother off my back.”

Steve strutted
to my office door. “Whenever you need to get away from your man and your
mother, let me know. I think you need a good old-fashioned girls’ night out to
get rid of all that pent-up frustration.” He glanced back at me as he put his
hand on the doorknob. “When you’re ready to get wild and crazy let me know.” He
winked at me. “I know all the best spots in town.”

*     *     *

The following
morning I rose early to prepare for a day of presentations to several
organizations around the city. Part of my job was being an ambassador for the
hospital and going into the community to teach people about knee and hip
replacement. But I had to do some last minute scrambling with my wardrobe to
find something presentable to wear.

“How’s this?” I
asked John who was standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

He took in my
double-breasted gray pantsuit and nodded. “Very professional. But you could do
to gain a few pounds, Nora.” He eyed me up and down for a moment. “You’re
getting awfully thin.”

I pulled at the
loose-fitting waistband of my pants. “Yeah, well, brides are supposed to lose
weight for their wedding, aren’t they?”

He leaned
against my kitchen counter. “Not three months before the wedding; and besides,
there was never anything wrong with your weight.”

“Fine,” I
responded, waving away his concern. “I’ll eat ice cream for lunch. Anything
else?”

He sipped his
coffee and slowly looked me over again. “Don’t forget we are to meet your
mother at Gallier Hall at five o’clock to go over the reception menu.” He went
to my refrigerator and pulled a yellow slip of paper from the door. “Then you
and your mother are to go to your first dress fitting at seven,” he added,
handing me the yellow piece of paper. “This is the address of the dress shop.
Claire wanted me to give it to you.”

I stared at the
paper in my hand. “I haven’t even picked out a dress yet. How can I be fitted
for something I haven’t even chosen?”

“Your mother has
a selection of dresses she picked out over two weeks ago waiting for you at
that dress shop. You just choose the one you like and they will start fitting
it on you.”

I grimaced at
John, dreading the yards of silk, lace, and white chiffon that would be
awaiting me. “What if I don’t like any of them? You have no idea how bad my
mother’s taste can be.”

He put his
coffee mug down on the counter. “Look, Nora, no one is going to make you wear
something you don’t want to, or make you have the kind of wedding you don’t
want to have. I won’t let them. This is our wedding. I only want you to be
happy.”

I recalled Jean
Marc saying something similar the last time we had seen each other. My mind
swarmed with visions of our dance together on Ms. Marie’s old bricked floor,
the way he had kissed me and then walked away.

“Let’s get you
some breakfast.” John’s voice catapulted me back from my memories. “Then you go
do your presentations.” He snapped his finger in the air and walked into the
living room. When he reemerged, he was carrying a handful of papers. “Drop
these off at St. Rita’s Church on your way. They’re for Father Delacroix, for
our Pre-Cana.” He handed the papers to me.

I gleaned
through the small stack of papers. “I thought we were going to fill these forms
out together. When did you do this?”

“Last night at
work. Father Delacroix needs them by today so he can schedule our sessions.” He
pointed at a small piece of paper stapled to the form on top. “I left him a
note asking him to schedule our sessions on Thursdays after five, when I can
get off from the ER without any hassle.”

I felt the
weight of the papers in my hands and sighed. “All right, John.” I walked out of
the kitchen.

John followed me
into the living room. “What about breakfast?”

I reached for my
purse by the front door and stuffed the papers inside of it. “I’ve suddenly
lost my appetite,” I muttered and rushed out the door.

*     *     *

After spending
forty-five minutes watching my mother and John decide on grilled red snapper
and oysters Bienville for the reception at Gallier Hall, I drove to the
exclusive bridal shop on St. Charles Avenue for my first dress fitting.
Displayed in the store window was a flowing white gown with a fifteen-foot
train draped around a mannequin. I wondered if I would ever come anywhere near
to looking half as good as that lifeless doll.

“What’s wrong
with you, Nora?” Mother nagged as we walked into the dress shop. “You never
said a word at Gallier Hall, and poor John had to make all the menu decisions.”

“I don’t think
he minded one bit.”

She went to a
counter by the door and rang a small bell. “Of course he minded, Nora. He was
just too nice to say anything to you in front of me. Lord, don’t you care about
what is served at your wedding? People will form their impressions of the
caliber of your wedding based on the food you serve.”

I smirked at
her. “That’s why I’ve got you, Mother. To make sure we make the best possible
impression for all your friends.”

“What in the
hell is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

A pale, short
woman with dark hair pulled back in a bun appeared from behind a wide, red
curtain in the wall. She stepped behind the counter and smiled meekly at my
mother.

“May I help
you?” she asked in a timid voice.

“We have a seven
o’clock fitting with Ms. Lillian. The bride’s name is Kehoe,” Mother told her.

The pale woman
simply nodded and then retreated behind the curtain.

I scanned a few
of the white lace dresses displayed at the entrance. “What is this place
anyway, Mother?”

Mother proudly
smiled. “Lillian Nash. She is one of the best wedding dress designers in the
South. Her gowns have appeared on the cover of several prominent magazines.
She’s very exclusive, but I had some friends put in a good word for us.”

I sighed and
rolled my eyes. “I should have known.”

A petite woman
with Asian features appeared from behind the curtain. She had long, black hair,
and a small porcelain face with dark blue, almond-shaped eyes. She looked from
me to my mother and then she smiled.

“Mrs. Schuller?”
She walked around the counter, holding her tiny hand out to my mother. “How
nice to see you again.” After shaking hands with my mother, the woman’s eyes
turned to me. “You must be our bride, Nora. I’m Lillian Nash, but you must call
me Lily.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and gently turned me to the
side, inspecting every inch of me with her deep blue eyes. “Very pretty,” she
commented. She nodded to my mother. “Let’s go in the back and see what Nora
thinks of your selections, Mrs. Schuller.”

I followed my
mother and Lily behind the counter and through the red curtain. We stepped into
a narrow hallway that led to a fitting room. The walls were covered with
mirrors, and in between the mirrors were large hooks. In the center of the room
was a raised, circular platform. Off to the right was a dressing room, and
waiting by the far wall were racks of white wedding dresses covered in clear
plastic bags. Lily glided over to the racks and began pulling out dresses. She
carefully placed them on the hooks spread along the walls of the room.

As I watched the
dresses being displayed, an oppressive sense of catastrophe descended over me.
It was worse than I feared. There were rhinestones, an overabundance of white
beads, large bows, an excessive use of lace, and even big, puffy sleeves on
every dress. I tried my best to hide my disappointment, but Lily, being an
expert at this sort of thing, must have sensed my reaction.

“I just love
this one,” Mother cooed over a balloon-shaped taffeta nightmare with shimmering
silver beads sewn into the bodice.

“Perhaps Nora
would like something a little simpler,” Lily reflected as she moved back toward
the rack.

“No, I think any
one of these would be perfect,” Mother assured her as she took in the dresses
spread about the room.

Lily moved
through the racks until she found what she had been looking for. She removed
the gown from its protective cover and came back to me.

“This one, I
think,” she suggested, gazing from the dress to me. “It reminds me of you.” She
held it before me, fanning out the fabric so I could get the full effect.

It was a
sleeveless empire dress, designed to hang from wide straps at the shoulders,
and gathered at a raised waistline. It had no bows, beads or rhinestones, just
yards of pale white silk chiffon arranged in a petal style that gently flowed
down the front skirt.

I carefully
examined the gown, and as I touched the soft fabric, my dread abated.

“Oh no, that
won’t do, it’s too plain,” Mother objected. “Nora needs some sparkle to make
her stand out in the church. No one will see her in that thing.”

“A wedding dress
is meant to complement the bride, Mrs. Schuller, not outshine her,” Lily
extolled as she turned from my mother to me. “Why don’t you go and try it on?”
She carefully handed the garment to me.

“All right,
Lily.” My mother sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Come on, Nora.” She waved
me toward the dressing room. “Let’s go see what you think of this one.”

As I placed the
long silk creation on the hook inside the dressing room, Mother came in and
closed the door behind her.

“Why on earth do
you want to try on that one?” She waved her hand toward the fitting room. “I
picked out some beautiful gowns for you.”

“I like this
one, Mother.” I began unbuttoning my pantsuit jacket while kicking off my shoes
at the same time.

“Why don’t you
try on one of mine after this, and you’ll see how much nicer you will look with
a little extra sparkle.”

I pulled off my
blouse. “I don’t want to sparkle, Mother.”

When I stood
before my mother in my bra and panties, her eyes traveled down the length of my
body. “Good God, Nora, what has happened to you? You’re so thin!” She raised
her eyes to mine. “What are you doing to yourself? I know you want to look good
for your wedding, but you’re emaciated.”

“I’ve been busy
and skipped a few meals. Never mind that. Help me with this,” I declared,
unzipping the dress.

After I stepped
into the gown, Mother zipped up the back as I stood in front of the full-length
mirror.

I objectively
analyzed my reflection. The dress would definitely have to be taken in several
inches in the waist, but the way the fabric cascaded down the front skirt
reminded me of a waterfall. It was simple, classic, and elegant.

“I want this
one,” I stated as I turned a little to each side to watch the motion of the
gown as I moved.

“Oh God, it’s so
plain.” Mother contemplated my image in the mirror. “Maybe we could glamour it
up a bit with a few choice pieces from Lou’s store.”

“What, a tiara
and a diamond drop necklace?”

“Don’t be silly,
Nora. Diamond drop necklaces are so last year.”

“Mother!” My
voice reverberated off the walls of the dressing room. “I am not wearing a
tiara.”

“Just think
about it, Nora. Mixed with a lovely long veil, a tiara can make such a
statement.”

“It’s a wedding,
Mother, not a political rally.” I turned once more to the mirror. It was then I
noticed the small white tag hanging from the right shoulder strap of the dress.
I reached for the tag.

“Fifteen
thousand dollars!” I gasped as I read the price tag again. “This is fifteen
thousand dollars,” I repeated as I gaped at my mother through the mirror.