The Red-Hot Cajun (36 page)

Valerie really enjoyed herself, seeing the city through their eyes. Oddly, she was the one making the comparisons. The air was sweeter down on the bayou. The flowers were more lush. The people were more genuine. The life was more simple.

More than once that weekend, she felt as if she were losing her mind. Her world was turning upside down. Everything she believed in and valued seemed suddenly unimportant. Yep, her mind was melting under the barrage of Southern folk.

More than anything, she kept looking at Charmaine and Raoul and how their love for each other was apparent in everything they did. How they looked at each other often. How they touched each other often.

How they tried to please each other often. Charmaine thought Raoul walked on water; Raoul thought Charmaine was God’s gift to men. And yet they were so very different from each other—in their looks, lifestyles, dreams, everything.

“How?” she asked Charmaine when they were in the ladies’ room at a restaurant. “How could two people so different from each other manage a life together?”

Charmaine shrugged. “We love each other. True love finds a way.”

That enigmatic answer told Valerie nothing. It was like a Hallmark card. Love conquers all. Which in her mind translated to “Bull!”

On Sunday afternoon, Valerie was saying good-bye to the three of them in front of their hotel where they were waiting for a limo to take them to the airport. Tante Lulu was sitting on a stone bench next to her.

“Promise you’ll come to my party next week,” Tante Lulu urged her for about the hundredth time.

“I promise.”

The old lady nodded. “Jist one thing I want to know. Do ya love Rene?”

Valerie didn’t have to think. “Yes, but—”

“Thass all I need to know.” Tante Lulu squeezed her hand. “Everything’s gonna work out. You’ll see.”

“No, it won’t.”

“Shhh. It’s all in the hands of St. Jude now.”

CHAPTER TWEENTY

Happy birthday to me

Louise Rivard surveyed the grounds of the Veterans Club and all the people who had come to celebrate her eightieth birthday.

There was a bar and dance floor set up inside, all decorated in a festive manner with a huge banner proclaiming, Happy Birthday Tante Lulu. Outside there were tents all around and rented tables and chairs.

Highfalutin stuff. All kinds of Cajun foods were offered: crawfish in a dozen different dishes, three kinds of jambalaya, four kinds of gumbo, red beans and rice, boudin, andouille, blackened redfish, catfish fingers, ham and red-eye gravy, buttered grits, a big ol’ mess of collard greens, Limping Susan, Lazy Chicken, dirty rice, fried okra, pralines, beignets, Tipsy Cake, Lost Bread, bread pudding, beaten biscuits, cornbread, even alligator steaks.

She wore party clothes today—a pretty purple flowered dress she’d bought special for the event at Wal-Mart, matching purple shoes, which pinched her toes and would soon be replaced with slippers once the dancing began, and pearls, which had been a gift from Luc and Sylvie. Charmaine had done her hair up in soft brown waves and applied “subtle” makeup, whatever that meant. Even her finger- and toe-nails had been painted a soft pink color, despite her having wanted “Wanton Red.”

She’d brought her exercise clothes in a plastic bag, just in case you-know-who showed up. Everyone told her not to get her hopes up, but she’d prayed to St. Jude. He could do anything.

Rene’s band, The Swamp Rats, was alternating with another Cajun band in providing entertainment for the crowd. They would probably get rowdy later; she hoped so. What was a Cajun party without a little rowdiness?

Three hundred people had come to wish her well, most of them good friends. She’d touched many lives over the years, both as a
traiteur
and as a long-time resident. Most important here were all of her children and grandchildren. That’s how she considered the LeDeux boys and Charmaine, even though she’d never given birth to them herself. She’d been as much a mother to them as any woman could be, having decided long ago that it must have been God’s plan for her.

And speaking of God’s plan and St. Jude’s miracle working, where was Valerie? She’d promised to come. See, there was Rene coming over to her, dressed in nice tan slacks, a blue button-down shirt and a dark blue blazer. Acceptable wedding attire, in her opinion. Not a tuxedo, but good enough. He smiled at her, but she could see his pain.

“How you doin’, sugar?” he asked, leaning down to give her a warm hug.

Looking over his shoulder she saw something, looked up to the sky, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“What did you say?” Rene asked, straightening the collar on her dress.

“Jus’ that I have a present for you, sweetie.”

“For me?” He frowned. “It’s your birthday. You’re the one getting presents. Not me.”

She shook her head. “Uh-uh! At my party, I likes to give presents, too. There’s yer present right over there.”

Rene turned and gasped.

It was Valerie. And she was wearing the perfect dress for a birthday
/
wedding party. It was white.

Will you marry me, baby . .
. RIGHT
NOW?

Rene’s heart constricted, his blood raced, and his eyes burned as he looked at Val across the grounds.

She was wearing the clingy white “fuck me” dress that she’d worn on his last night in New York. Oh, that was a low, low blow! Especially since it was a humid day, and the dress was clinging like crazy.

Un-be-freak in ‘-lievable!

She hadn’t noticed him yet. She seemed to be scanning the crowd for someone, probably Tante Lulu, who had suddenly disappeared from his side.
I
am going to kill my aunt if she had something to do with
this. Doesn’t she know how hard this has been for me? Doesn’t she know that this is going to set me
back ?

He’d never in a million years thought she would come. Not after their breakup. What was she thinking? She was the one who had emphasized the importance of clean breaks.
Does she have a cruel
streak ? Could she possibly be an “Ice” Breaux after all? No, that can’t be it.

Still, she looked great.

Just then, her eyes caught his... and held. They started to walk toward each other, slowly. It gave him
time to notice the swirl of her dress around her body, the
sheen of her red lipstick, the tears in her eyes.
Tears? Why is she crying? I’m the one who should be crying.

“Val...” he said.

“Rene...” she said at the same time.

Don’t make a fool of yourself, Rene. Get your act together and act like a man.
“What are you doing... I mean, I never thought... why...”

“Your aunt made me promise to come. When she came to New York last week.” Her dark eyes darted from side to side. She was as nervous and embarrassed as he was.

He groaned. “She actually went to New York? Shit! I’m sorry if she bothered you.”
I
can only
imagine my aunt in the city. The Big Apple might not ever recover.

Val waved a hand. “No problem. I enjoyed having her.”

“You look good.”
And, man, is that an understatement.

“So do you.”

I do? I don’t feel good.

“I hear you’ve been dating.”

“Huh? Who told you that? Forget it. I can guess.”
Is she jealous? Or just making conversation?

“T
ruth is, I went out once and it was a disaster.”

She raised her eyebrows. “She slept over.”

He almost laughed at the obvious machinations of his dear old aunt. Too bad they were wasted. “Oh, that! It was just Francine. She drove me home ‘cause I was too drunk to drive.”

“Francine? The lesbian?” Her eyes went wide with surprise.

He nodded.

Val smiled as if that made her happy.

What the hell is going on here? Val has to be here for Tante Lulu. If it was for me, she wouldhave called first. Don’t get your hopes up. Just be casual. Friends. That’s all we are now. Hah!
“I bought the house.”
Brilliant. Why don’t I talk about the weather?

She seemed to approve, though why she would or why it would matter couldn’t make its way through his foggy brain.

“I quit my job,” she told him.

“Why? What are you going to do now?”
Mon Dieu! Will I ever be able to figure out women? She
dumps me because her job is so important, rips me to pieces, and now says she quit her job. What
the hell is going on here ?

“I don’t know. It depends...”

“On what?” His heart was really racing now.

She had no chance to answer because everyone was being called inside to sing “Happy Birthday” to his aunt. As they walked side by side, Val slipped her hand into his and intertwined their fingers. He glanced over at her but she was staring straight ahead. She looked as scared as he felt. But where their palms were joined, he swore he felt their two hearts beating together.

For the first time in weeks, he started to feel hopeful.
Please, God, please, St. Jude, the whole
bunch of you, please. . . please. .. please...

Tante Lulu was up on the stage with Luc, Sylvie, Remy, Rachel, Tee-John, Charmaine, and Rusty. He supposed he should have been up there, too, but it was too late now. A giant cake with eighty candles were lit, and all three hundred-plus of them began to sing “Happy Birthday.” It was a moment out of time.

Something they would all remember, and not just because a photographer was snapping away.

He noticed an odd thing then. All his brothers and Rusty were wearing suits and the ladies had on very respectable dresses, even Charmaine. And there was a priest standing in the background, too.

When the singing was over and Tante Lulu, with the family’s help, blew out all the candles, she stepped up to the microphone and called for quiet. “Thank you, ever’one, fer comin’ to my party. But I have a surprise fer you today. We’re gonna have us a surprise weddin’. Right here and now.”

“Huh?” This was news to him. Besides, how did someone have a surprise wedding?
Oh, my God!

Everyone was turning to look at him.
They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Oh, shit! I just got punked by my
family. I hope it’s just a joke.

“Rene?” Val asked. “What’s going on?” There was panic in her eyes.

He felt a bit panicked himself. “I think they planned a wedding for us.”
Is there a crack in the floor
somewhere that I can fall through?

The crowd was starting to clap and call out congratulations and rebel yells.

Val made a sort of whimpering sound and huddled closer. Or maybe it was him.

Meanwhile an aisle was being cleared and chairs were being set up in rows, and the stage was being transformed into an altar. The women suddenly had bouquets in their hands, and Luc and Sylvie’s little girls, dressed in pretty long white dresses, joined them.

Is it possible? Does my dopey family actually think they can spring a surprise wedding onsomeone?

Val was just beginning to comprehend what was about to happen. “What?” she shrieked. Turning to Rene, she said, “They can’t do this, can they?”

Who the hell knows?
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it,” he said to assure her.

“How?”

Who the hell knows?

Everyone was quieting down, staring at them expectantly.

“Rene?” she prodded. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know. Give me a chance to think.”

Tante Lulu was heading toward them with a big smile on her face, carrying a bridal bouquet.

Charmaine was next to her carrying a bridal veil; her smile was a nervous one.
It oughta be.
Luc, presumably his best man, the traitor, was carrying a ring box. Luc shrugged at the glower Rene shot his way.

“Let’s go outside where we can settle this in private,” he suggested.
Then maybe we can make a
getaway... like to Nebraska.

Val nodded.

He put up a hand to his family who were about to follow them. They stopped, but Luc handed him a parchment paper and the ring box. “Just in case,” he said, patting him on the shoulder. “Give it your best shot, Bro. You can do it.”

No, I can’t. I am not that smooth.
“Are you people nuts?” he said, shaking his head as he walked outside with Val.