Pamela Morsi (26 page)

"Why would you think that?"

He shrugged without answering. "It just seems
more likely."

"Nothing about the voices is likely," Aida
pointed out.

Armand considered her words. "Well, I'm sure
you know more about it than I do."

"I do know more about it," Aida said
argumentatively.

"I just said you did."

"But you did not mean it," she accused. "You
are all angry and puffed up again for no reason."

"Am I?"

"Yes you are!"

She stood nearly toe to toe with him, nearly
shouting the words in his face. Her behavior surprised both of
them. Embarrassed, she stepped back. An apology was on her lips,
but he spoke first.

"I am sorry," Armand said. His tone was
sincere, as was his expression. "I am grumpy as a bear this
morning, I think. It is no cause to take it out on you."

"Thank you," Aida said, her voice not
sounding nearly as meek as she felt.

"I have been thinking about all this," he
admitted. "I do believe that you can be traiteur and I cannot
wholly discount your vision."

"Then you will talk to Laron?" she asked.

"If I can decipher what to say. Clearly the
vision seems to me to be concerned with the fruitlessness of his
relationship with Madame Shotz."

"I liked her," Aida said.

Armand nodded almost sadly. "I did, too."

The quiet moment between the two of them
lengthened.

"Ummm, look at this!"

Armand walked to the table, noticing the
blueberry tart for the first time.

Aida smiled, grateful for the distraction. "I
saw it already. In fact, your arrival probably saved it from
mysteriously disappearing."

"Mysteriously disappearing?" Armand looked at
her, his eyes almost twinkling.

"No one would have ever seen or heard of it
again," Aida whispered dramatically. "And all that would be left
would be a blueberry stain on my lips."

Armand picked up the game easily. "Show the
judge your mouth, mamselle," he ordered in a haughty demanding
voice. "Let us see if you are guilty or innocent."

Aida stuck her tongue out at him
playfully.

"The woman is a saint," he declared in an
impressive tone. ."She is innocent of sweet thievery, although I
believe she did lust after it in her heart already."

Aida gave a tiny giggle of delight at both
his risqué comment and his comedic tone.

"You are so funny," she said, delighted.

"I have amused you?" he said, his words
feigning surprise. "I thought only handsome fellows spouting odes
to your eyelashes entertained you, mamselle."

"And I thought you had become so stuffy and
sensible that you wouldn't know a laugh if it hit you full face,"
she replied.

Armand raised his brow in surprise.
"Mademoiselle Gaudet, I am known as a man who can tell a good
joke."

"And I am known as a woman who appreciates
one," she countered.

"Well, it seems that this lovely tart has
brought us to a new understanding of each other," he said.

"It seems so."

"Then I believe that, in celebration of that
happy conclusion, we should eat it."

"We can't." Aida's eyes were wide with
scandalized amusement.

"Are you fearing Madame Landry's wrath?"

"She would not be happy to lose such a
delicious looking pie," Aida said with certainty.

Armand nodded. "I've stolen sweets from her
before," he admitted. "As a young boy I was scolded for such a sin
more than once."

"And did you learn your lesson?" she
asked.

He sighed with feigned despair. "Apparently
not," he replied. "For looking at this beautiful bit of blueberry
all I can recall with certainty is my half-burned, overchewy
coushe-coushe that I left half-eaten. My brother and I allowed my
sister-in-law to lie abed this morning while we cooked breakfast
for ourselves and the children."

"I forgot about the morning meal completely,"
Aida admitted. "Poor Poppa slathered some mayhaw preserves on
yesterday's cold biscuit."

"Then surely," Armand suggested, "this tart
was meant to be devoured by you and me."

Aida tutted in warning. "Are you trying to
tempt me, monsieur?"

"Oh no, mamselle, I would not do such a
thing," he said with great hauteur.

"But you are going to taste it," she
said.

"Just the edges," he assured her as he broke
off a fairly generous portion of a corner. "I'll just try it, in
order to convince us that it is not something that we really want
to eat."

The hot blueberry filling was oozing out of
the crust and would have dripped on the table if Aida had not
reached over and allowed the heavy dollop to slide upon her
finger.

"Thank you for saving that," he said. "We
could not allow it to fall upon the table and make it sticky."

She giggled before burying the
blueberry-covered digit in her mouth.

"Mmm," was her only comment.

Armand tasted his portion and offered a
similar opinion.

"It's wonderful," she said.

"Maybe it is my hunger," he said. "But I
don't believe that I have ever tasted better."

"I have never been overfond of Madame
Landry's cooking," Aida said. "But this is wonderful."

"We have to have another bite, don't we?" he
asked.

Aida looked longingly at the tart.

"Just a little one," she said. "I haven't
even tried the crust."

Armand broke off another corner and shared it
with her.

Once more they made sounds of pleasurable
satisfaction as they consumed the sweet blueberry filling and
light crust of Madame Landry's tart.

"How is Felicite?" Aida asked him
conversationally. "Her time is getting very close."

Armand nodded as he licked his fingers. "She
is doing well, I think. She is more tired these days than I recall
with the other babies, but maybe I was not paying as much
attention."

Aida broke off the third corner and shared it
with him.

"I don't know much about birthing," she told
him. "Madame Landry has said that I shall be with her to assist at
the next lying-in. That undoubtedly will be Madame Sonnier."

Armand's brow furrowed as he scooped out a
bit more of the hot, oozing center of the tart with his
fingers.

"It is very unusual for an unwed lady to
attend a birthing," he said.

Aida nodded agreement. "I said that very
thing to her."

"What did she say?"

"It was really very strange," Aida told him.
"She just gave this unexpected, almost shrieking laugh and said
that she didn't think that my being a maiden would be a
problem."

Armand shrugged. "Maybe she thinks that since
you have been chosen as traiteur the normal sensibilities simply
do not apply."

"Perhaps so."

The two of them dug fingers into the last
corner of the tart and giggled guiltily as they split it between
them.

"Do you think she will forgive us?" Aida
asked.

"Certainly. She is a reasonable woman and she
will understand how seductive a blueberry tart can be to two hungry
young people."

"Then you are going to confess."

Armand grinned. "No need to rush into
anything. Let her notice it is missing and scold me first."

Aida laughed.

"Children! Children! Come here!"

The call came from the direction of the
garden.

"Children? I suppose that's us," Aida
said.

"I think so," Armand agreed. "Do I have
blueberry on my face?"

Aida looked him over, laughing. "No,
monsieur, but don't let her see your tongue. What about me?"

"You appear as angelic and innocent as if no
blueberry tart could ever tempt you," he said.

He offered his arm formally and the two
headed out the back doorway to the garden. "We are coming, Nanan,"
Armand called out.

Aida felt warm and happy and content at his
side. They were friends. He did at least seem to like and respect
her. It was a lot for a woman who so admired him.

Madame Landry was seated as usual among the
remains of her garden. The curled and discolored leaves and vines
of autumn were all around her, deteriorating so very slowly to
dust. She had a peculiar expression on her face, but she appeared
quite happy.

"Well good morning to you, moti fils," she
said, greeting Armand for the first time.

"I have my paper and ink," he said. "And
Mademoiselle Gaudet and I await your lessons."

"No lessons today," she said, surprising both
of them. "I have things to think on and consider and I have no time
for teaching."

If Armand was annoyed at losing a day's
lesson and having made a futile trip to her home, he didn't say
so.

"It has been a long time since you sent me
away to play," he said.

"But you always loved those days of play,"
she said. The old woman's smile was secretive, as if there was some
joke to which the others were not privy.

"You two run along now, you can make your way
home, of course," she said.

"Certainly," Armand told her. "My brother
dropped me off on his way to visit the Heberts; we can walk up
there and get the pirogue to take Mademoiselle Gaudet."

"Good, good," the old woman said. "You do
that. And let me get you that tart."

"Tart?" Armand asked, casting Aida a quick
guilty grin.

"I made a blueberry tart for your brother,"
she said. "As I recall he was always partial to blueberry."

"The tart is for Jean Baptiste?" Armand's
question was curious.

Old Madame Landry nodded. "Perhaps you have
not noticed," she said. "But your brother seems to be going through
a difficult time now. He is not altogether happy about the new
baby and is not as devoted to dear Felicite as he once was."

Armand visibly paled, but he did not dispute
her words.

"And you think baking him a blueberry tart
will make him more devoted to his wife?" His tone was doubtful.

"Oh, the one I made him will," Orva assured
him. "I laced it heavily with a very effective love charm."

Armand and Aida knelt beside the riverbank,
choking, gagging, coughing as both thrust fingers down their own
throats time and time again to no effect.

"I cannot vomit!" Aida wailed. "She must have
put an antiemetic in it also."

Armand had discovered the same
incontrovertible fact but had not yet voiced it.

"What can we do?" Armand asked her. "Is there
no remedy?"

"You have been there when she has taught
me,"

Aida answered. "Not once has she even
mentioned love charms. How am I to know if there is an
antidote?"

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Do you think it
is going to start working right away or later today or . . . ?"

Aida was still and self-absorbed for a moment
and then shook her head.

"I don't feel anything except frightened and
anxious," she said. "That must be more the effects of knowing that
I've swallowed the charm than the charm itself."

Armand nodded agreement. He felt exactly the
same.

"Perhaps it takes time before it starts to
take effect," she said. "Maybe we should just go home and be alone
so there is no one to fall in love with."

"The charm might be specifically for
husbands," Armand suggested. "It may very well do nothing to
us."

"We should go home and tend to our usual
business and simply pretend that this did not happen."

"Yes, I think that really might work," Armand
agreed. "We will just go home and stay by ourselves."

"Until . . . ah . . . until tomorrow?"

"How long can a charm like this last?" he
asked.

"Surely no longer than a day or so," she told
him hopefully. "It couldn't stay in the body very long."

"Then we will go home and stay alone and
nothing will happen. Nothing can happen," he assured her.

"Good," she agreed. "Very good. Everything
will be fine."

"Yes, everything will be fine."

Aida sighed as if in great relief, and Armand
momentarily felt sorry for her. It was his fault, after all. She
hadn't eaten the tart until he started.

"Well then, let us get going," she said.
"We'll head for the Heberts."

"The Heberts!" Panic momentarily seized
him.

"Yes, isn't that where your pirogue is? The
sooner we get it the sooner we get home," she said. "We can't know
when this charm might begin."

"We can't go to the Heberts! Jean Baptiste is
there."

"Jean Baptiste?" Aida looked at him puzzled.
"He doesn't know that we ate his tart."

"No! Jean Baptiste will . . . Oh never mind,
it's just that we can't go there."

"But we must."

"We cannot."

"Then how will we get home?"

It was a question for which Armand didn't
have a ready answer. His time was surely running out, but he could
not risk taking Aida Gaudet to the Hebert place, where his brother
was. He loved his brother and Felicite. He couldn't take the risk
that Aida Gaudet might fall for Jean Baptiste and lure him from his
wife.

But he had to do something. Something. He had
to get her home so that she would fall in love with no one. Or he
had to find someone appropriate for her to fall in love with. Laron
was down on the German coast. Who else was there?

Perhaps it was the effect of the charm or
maybe Armand just saw things clearly for the first time. But within
a fraction of a heartbeat he knew whom he wanted the beautiful Aida
to love.

He reached out and took her arm and pulled
her into his own.

"Armand?"

Hearing her speak his given name was like a
spark to kindling.

"Kiss me!" he demanded.

With almost no hesitation she brought her
mouth to his. He met her lips with his own. Warm. Plump. Sweet. It
was everything that he had ever imagined. Everything that he had
ever longed for.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. They
were wide with surprise, perhaps fear, but also there was desire.
He saw it and recognized it and it urged him forward.