Restoring Hope (30 page)

“Up, out of the bed and get packed,” Nic told Hope as he threw back the covers from the bed. Hope rolled over, squinting her eyes at him and then rolled back. “I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

“You can sleep in the car; we’re going to Baton Rouge to see Nicky at the summer house. My parents have been dying to meet you for weeks, and I miss my son.”

Hope rolled to her back quickly, and Nic didn’t miss the look of apprehension on her face.

“Your parents?”

“Yeah, sugar, now get a move on.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Angel—”

“Oh, my God, what if they hate me?”

“Sugar—”

“I don’t have a thing to wear!” Hope shouted.

Nic grabbed her by the ankles, and pulled her to the end of the bed while she squeaked. He lifted her from the bed, placed her on her feet and chuckled while he walked her to the shower.

“One thing I’ve learned about women, baby, you’ll never have the perfect outfit,” then he smacked her sweet ass, turned on the shower and got busy relaxing her for the trip.

The Beuve’s summer home on the banks of the Tickfaw River was a charming cottage that had two stories and a wrap-around porch. There was a dock stretching out onto the river and surprisingly a pool even though the river was at their back door. Nic’s mother preferred to see what she swam with, he’d explained, and Hope decided she agreed with his mother when she remembered the alligators that sunned themselves on the banks. There was a boathouse for their speedboat and houseboat. Nic said they had two because you never know when you’d want to go fast or take it slow and lazy, and it all sat on a full acre. This was so your neighbors weren’t right up your ass—as Nic put it.

His mother and father were waiting on the steps of their large covered porch when they arrived. Large porches were a necessity in Louisiana to keep the sun at bay. Most houses had them and were frequently utilized on long summer nights while they drank ice tea and welcomed in the night. When Nic parked the car, they both descended the steps with smiles on their faces, waving to both her and Nic. When his parent’s faces melted into loving looks of acceptance, Hope forgot about being nervous and smiled at them both, her worries about the perfect outfit just a memory when she saw smiling back at her.

Nic’s dad, Nicholas Sr., was as tall as his son was, but with more gray hair than black. His face, an older version of Nic’s, had aged to perfection with just the right amount of laugh lines on his face. Strong cheekbones, heavy brows, and full lips told Hope he’d been a heartbreaker in his youth. He was lean, but not too lean, and the way he curled his wife around the shoulders, tucking her into his side, said his eyes never wandered in all the years they’d been married. And who would even look at another woman when you had one as beautiful and gracious as Tilly on your arm?

Taller than Hope, most were, she was blonde as well with blue eyes and a cupid’s mouth. She had a full, shapely figure that she’d kept in shape most of her sixty-five years, but just enough softness and curves that you knew her husband enjoyed her. She was dressed in a cool summer sundress, of pastel-green, and rhinestone encrusted flip-flops. Her hair was swept up in a messy up-do and Hope could tell by looking at her relaxed outfit she could care less what Hope had worn. She was the essence of a southern woman who could give a rat’s ass about the latest fashion and more about being comfortable while looking feminine—Hope loved her at first sight.

Nicky tried to act cool when they arrived, he’d smiled and waved but didn’t rush forward to hug his dad. He gave Hope a grin, and she smiled at him and nudged him in the shoulder. Nic Sr. was the first to address Hope, and he did it in southern style. He walked up to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, drawing her in for a big bear hug.

“We’ve been beggin’ Nic to bring you up here ever since we heard about you, sugar,” he crooned like a riverboat gambler, and Clark Gable came to mind from the movie “Gone with the Wind.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” Hope answered back. Nic Sr. then shifted her to Tilly who smiled brightly and gave her a genteel hug.

“Just look at you, why, you’re as pretty as any southern belle I’ve ever met.”

“She’s got piss and vinegar like one too,” Nic chuckled and then tucked Hope under his arm as he leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek, “You look especially pretty today, mother. Have you been drinking from the fountain of youth again?”

“Of course, it’s called Cajun Lemonade. Y’all take a seat on the back porch, and I’ll fetch you both a tall glass.”

“I’ll get their bags,” Nic Sr. called out as he rounded the back of her Jeep. “Nice car son, kinda girlie for you though.”

“It’s Hope’s dad, she lets me drive it when she’s in a good mood.”

“What he means is he never lets me drive it, so I’m confused as to why he bought it,” Hope laughed and then realized what she said.

Tilly looked at her son and then asked, “You bought it for her?”

Feeling the color drain from her face, Hope started to apologize and tell them he forced her to buy it, but before she could say anything Tilly wrapped an arm around her and said, “Oh, sugar, you and I have got to have a conversation about how to handle Beuve men.” Then she shouted over her shoulder, “Y’all go fish or somethin.’ Hope and I have some photo albums to sort through.”

Two hours later and five photo albums sorted through, Tilly turned to Hope as they laughed over a picture of Nic dressed as a girl for Halloween and asked, “Do you love him?” Hope was taken off guard by the question and choked on her Cajun lemonade. As she sputtered, Tilly grabbed a napkin and handed it to her chuckling “Subtle isn’t one of my strong suits, sugar, sorry about that.”

Hope wiped her mouth and took a deep breath then turning to Nic’s mother told her, “Yes, I do, more and more each day.” The smile that crossed Tilly’s mouth spoke of a mother’s love for her son having found the right woman to love. She beamed and grabbed Hope’s hands and advised, “Then you need to put him in his place from time to time. Don’t let my son walk roughshod over you. He’s like his father, likes to run everything. You let him think he does, but in the back of your mind remember behind every great man is the woman steering the ship.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hope smiled, and Tilly scoffed, “My mother is ma’am, you can call me Tilly.”

Right on cue, the men and Nicky came in from the sun, carrying catfish they’d caught in the river. The dark gray fish with whiskers hung from a fish stringer, and Nic’s dad plopped them down in the kitchen sink on their way into the great room where Tilly and Hope were sitting. Both men came to the back of the couch, and both women looked up as they lowered their heads and kissed them sweetly on the lips. When both Nic’s pulled back, smiling sweetly at their women, Hope and Tilly sighed. Young or old, newly coupled or forty-four years married, when a hot guy kisses you, you swoon.

“We havin’ a fish fry for dinner, sugar?” Tilly asked her husband. Nic Sr. brushed her cheek once with the back of his hand before turning back to the kitchen.

“That we are, Tilly darling,’ that we are.” The sound of a fish hitting the counter caught Tilly’s attention, and she told her husband, “You make a mess, you clean it up.”

“Sugar—“

“No you don’t, Nicholas Beuve, my hands smelt for a week last time.”

“I’ll clean up if you gut them dad. Wouldn’t want momma or Hope’s hands in those guts anyway,” Nic called out to his father.

At that announcement, Tilly leaned in whispering, “My hands didn’t smell, but really, the guts are just not appealing in the least.” Nic heard his mother and turned, smiled at her and then winked as he made his way to the kitchen.

After dinner, they all retired to the back porch. Nicky set up a game of dominoes, and they relaxed with drinks as the crickets began their nightly calls. Frogs soon joined them and in the distance, a loud splash from the water indicated an alligator was hunting for his next meal. Croaking calls from a Heron as she fed her young added to the magical evening of just being and it was heavenly.

No worries, no deadlines, just family, the sounds of the river and Hope snuggled in next to Nic. If there ever was a perfect day, Hope figured this had to be close to it. Nic was right she needed to relax and not worry so much. He’d notified the police the alarms were always on when they were home, and as Nic had said, John could be in Canada enjoying the fruits of his illegal labor. Nic was running his fingers up and down her arm as she laid her head on his chest. Tilly watched them both, a small smile on her face as Nic Sr. was explaining the rules of dominoes again to Nicky. The sun had lowered in the sky, and Hope decided she’d never seen a more beautiful sunset, when the silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of shoes on the steps of the porch.

“Well isn’t this just a cozy sight,” Kat remarked sarcastically as she took in the occupants of the porch. “
My
son,
my
husband, and the
whore
. Oh, my apologies, I didn’t see Sister Theresa and Saint Nicholas over there,” she finished with disdain.

“Momma?” Nicky stuttered, alarmed at his mother words and her appearance. Normally well-kept Kat looked different in a T-shirt and shorts, with no makeup on her face. Tilly stood immediately and put herself between Nicky and Kat, her anger apparent, as she hissed, “Not in front of Nicky.”

“I don’t hide my feelings from my son,” Kat shouted, “If this is the type of company he’ll be keeping while in your home, I’ll just take him home.”

Nic had stood and tried to enter the fray, but his mother had put up her hand to stop him, and like all good sons, he didn’t dare cross his momma.

“We have every right to have whomever we want in our home, and that includes you. That being said, you’ve overstayed your welcome, and I suggest you head on back to New Orleans on your broomstick.”

“Nicky, get in the house,” Nic barked out, his tone breaking Nicky from his deer in the headlights trance, as he watched his mother and grandmother face-off. He moved quickly to the door, but looked back over his shoulder at his parents, one last time, before walking inside and closing the door. Nic turned back to his mother and told her “I’ll handle this. You go inside and look after Nicky.” His mother crossed her arms and raised her brows, holding her position. She wasn’t moving an inch, and he knew it. Sighing, he turned to Kat and grabbed her arm marching her down the porch and around the house. She struggled the whole way as Tilly, Hope and Nic Sr. stood there and watched, all three in different degrees of shock and anger.

Hope looked back at the house and wondered if she should go to Nicky. He wasn’t a baby anymore, and his mother being upset at her presence might make him unpredictable, and with no experience with kids, Hope bit her lips unsure what to do. Should she leave it to Nic or try to explain the situation herself? She was just about to turn to the door, and attempt to console him, when Nic’s mother broke the silence.

“That woman is a bitch.”

“Now, sugar,” Nic Sr. replied with a chuckle in his voice.

“I’d use another word for her, but ladies don’t talk like that in polite company.”

Nic Sr.’s chuckle became a laugh, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Hope let out a giggle, and then threw her hand over her mouth as the giggle became a laugh, as well.

The sound of screeching tires alerted them to the fact that Kat had left, and when Nic rounded the corner, he found his parents and his woman in varying degrees of laughter. Shaking his head, he looked to the heavens and wondered not for the first time if it was just him, or was everyone in his life nuts. He came up the steps, moved past the lunatics, and entered the house calling out to his son.