A Billion Reasons Why

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “Why don’t we leave a note? Leon can bring us back this evening after supper.”

  She gazed at the long black vehicle, Leon’s tubby body leaning against it with his feet crossed at the ankles. “I’ll just wait. Why don’t you have Leon get my things?”

  Luc took her by the elbow. “I don’t think so. First off, I’m not leaving you here alone. You’d call for a cab and check into a hotel. You really think I don’t remember your tactics at all?”

  “My tactics?”

  “For getting your way. You’re not exactly subtle, Katie. Not for a Southern woman.”

  Katie gave up and allowed herself to be led back down the stairs. She heard a door open and swung around to see the neighbor’s door ajar and an elegant young woman in the doorframe. She looked like a New York socialite; white cuffed trousers and a multicolored tunic that clung loosely to her body with several necklaces hanging to her waist. The woman’s arm slithered up the doorframe.

  “Are you looking for the Slaters?” the young blonde asked.

  “I am,” she said. “I’m Katie McKenna, Irene’s daughter.”

  “Oh yes, she said you were coming.” The woman perused her, as if casually trying to ascertain the make of china on the bottom of a plate. “From California, right?”

  “That’s right.” At least Mam remembered she was coming.

  “Your momma’s getting her hair done, and Rusty’s at work. She always gets her hair done on Tuesdays—must not have expected you until later.” The neighbor tipped her chin toward the limousine. “That’s some car you got there. Hope you didn’t waste your money counting on your momma seeing it.”

  Katie focused on the lantern hanging over Mam’s door and swallowed her disappointment. “He works? Rusty, I mean. I haven’t met him yet.” She moved up the staircase toward the young woman. It seemed strange that a perfect stranger knew more about her own mother than she did, but did anyone truly know Irene Slater? Or did she slip in and out of personas as it suited the situation? She wondered what her mother was like now that she was someone else’s wife.

  “He’s a shrimper. A commercial fisherman. You haven’t met him? I thought they’d been married awhile.” The woman leaned with her back against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

  Something about her familiarity startled Katie. Her mam wasn’t exactly the sharing sort.

  “Season’s closed now. Maybe he’s catching grouper or catfish now, I don’t really know. But he left early this morning, so I assume he’s working. People keep weird hours in this city. We don’t ask any questions.”

  Katie shrugged. “No, sure. I get ya. We’ll be back later.”

  “I’m Helena. Y’all want to come in and wait?” Helena swung the door wide open, its beveled glass sending rainbows of light shards toward them. “You can come in for tea or coffee and wait here. I can rustle something up.”

  “Gosh, that’s so sweet, but I’d like to freshen up and maybe unpack.” She also had the urge to get away from this strange woman who seemed to be a creepy character from a Hitchcock film.

  “You’re not staying with your momma?”

  No doubt that sounded strange, but Katie cared little how it sounded. “Oh, I’ll be back.” She sprinted down the stairs and flashed her eyes at Luc.

  He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Helena!” He waved and pressed Katie’s back until they were seated in the car once more. He closed the door and laughed. “Was it me, or did we just wander into a Tennessee Williams play?”

  “Let’s go see the streetcar. I may as well get this over with. It beats spending the afternoon with Blanche Dubois.”

  Chapter 7

  IF I HAD YOU

  Luc trailed behind Katie. She hesitated with each step and kept looking back for reassurance. He’d nod, and she’d move forward again. For once, she’d appreciated that Luc didn’t listen. His silent support behind her drove her on to do what she had to do.

  Where was Poindexter now, when Katie needed a strong hand at her side? Dexter probably had no idea Katie’s dad had called her “the Empire of his eye,” in homage to her favorite apple. If he even knew the difference between an Empire and any other kind. And he’d never know how she’d come by the nickname Katie-bug.

  Luc knew Dex’s type: competent at his job but not management material—maybe on a few committees at church, a smile plastered on his face, but not an ounce of genuine joy in his soul. Righteous and heartless. No doubt the man had let Katie off the leash to show himself as the bigger man, unafraid and overly confident. No man who truly loved Katie would ignore such a threat or trust another man’s honor before the vow was made.

  Or maybe Luc just knew his own intentions.

  They walked slowly, solemnly. Unlike the jazzy celebration of a typical New Orleans funeral, this walk brought no joy or release from mourning. As they approached St. Charles Avenue, Luc felt Katie’s steps slowing further. She turned her face to him, and he reached for her. “I’m right here, Katie. Let’s do this. Your dad’s not here. He’s rejoicing with the host of heavenly angels, maybe feeding them fresh grapes. This walk is for you, not him.”

  Katie nodded and took his proffered hand. “Was my father sad that day? I mean, did he—”

  “Paddy wasn’t himself. He was distraught but not in the way the insurance company tried to portray. He wasn’t desolate. He just wasn’t himself, not jovial, and he was worried about what was next. He knew the business sale would cover the debts. He had no reason to do what they implied. You and I both know Paddy valued life too much to take his own.”

  “The insurance company just didn’t want to pay. That’s why they started that vicious rumor. All those years my dad hyped insurance, and that’s how they repaid him; dragging his name through bayou mud.”

  “No one ever believed it, Katie. Your father wasn’t capable of such an act. He was upset, but he couldn’t have hurt you that way if he tried.”

  “Some people did believe it, and worse, some said it. They told my mother his soul wouldn’t go to heaven, that he’d committed a mortal sin.”

  “People can be cold sometimes. You know the truth. Your father loved you so much. He would never choose to be away from you, Katie. Never.”

  She halted and let her head drop to his shoulder. He pressed her head against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. They stood on busy St. Charles Avenue, cars rushing by, the rattling of the streetcar in the center median, and he felt her tense frame relax in his embrace. Her body trembled underneath him, and he circled his arms around her tiny waist. Her eyes swam behind a wall of tears as her gaze focused on the grass-covered central median and the tracks.

  Between them and the tracks, more cars bustled by on their way uptown, or perhaps to Audubon Park. Life went on around them, oblivious to the heart-wrenching struggle going on inside the woman he loved. Eventually another streetcar came into view in the historic green, and Katie’s body stiffened against him. He tightened his grasp upon her until the car passed and her stance released.

  “My father loved this city, everything about it. I wonder if he laughed in heaven, maybe found it comical that his demise came from the St. Charles streetcar, that he’d been eliminated by the tourists he thought of as a blight on his beloved city.”

  “Maybe he did.” Luc thought of the crooked posture of Mr. McKenna that fateful day and how sidetracked the old man appeared after giving up his last family valuable. He wished he understood why Paddy had left the ring with him. And why on that fateful day? If only he’d gone with him and made sure that he’d gotten home. Katie’s life would have been different.

  The man’s Irish pride wouldn’t allow him to run the business after Luc purchased the store. Luc learned a lifelong lesson from that; never thumb your nose at opportunity, and don’t ever let pride blind you to the right course of action. His riches had brought him nothing that Mr. McKenna didn’t have in his small vegetable shop. Money brought respect from all the wrong people.

  “Katie, you’ve had enough.
Let’s go. Do you want to go and find your mother? No doubt she’s getting her hair done in one of those fancy new salons on Magazine Street.”

  “I can wait.” Katie started walking toward the house again, and he noticed how easily she maneuvered the uneven, cracked sidewalk in her heels. As she swayed rhythmically in front of him, he marveled at what a dancer’s body she still possessed. As if she was born to swing and move with the grace of a wildcat. He remembered the first time he ever saw her, on the stage at the Barrelhouse. She seemed to have been transported from the forties in a heavenly, redheaded Betty Grable package.

  Suddenly Katie turned on her heel in front of him. “Do you think her husband is a boy toy?”

  “Do I what?”

  “My mother’s husband. He works, so he’s got to be young enough to work, right? Do you think he’s young enough that it’s scandalous?”

  “I think you would have heard by now if he was. What’s he look like in the Christmas card?”

  Katie shrugged. “My mom doesn’t send them anymore. At least not to me. She said she didn’t want me to have any preconceived ideas.”

  “Sounds like ‘boy toy’ is a preconceived idea. She should know her daughter better. The truth is better than your imagination.”

  “They got married in Vegas, and she sent a picture then. He just looked like a working stiff, tanned, leathery skin. I never thought it was a possibility, so I didn’t look too closely.” She started walking again. Then she turned and smiled. “I did it, Luc. I saw where my dad died.”

  “You did. I’m proud of you.” He paused on the street and felt in his pocket for the velvet box. “Katie, before we get back to your mother’s house. About your father. That day.”

  He wanted to tell her that her father had looked after her, that he’d taken care of things, but he stopped mid-thought. He didn’t want her to think Mr. McKenna had given him the ring so that he might end his life. That wasn’t the case. Luc knew it wasn’t, and yet he’d kept the ring a secret rather than let the insurance company think they had evidence concerning Mr. McKenna’s demise.

  He only had five days to tell Katie the truth, or as much of it as she could digest, but his mouth wouldn’t relinquish the words. Naturally, he had his own selfish reasons for wanting to hold on to the ring. Maybe he’d been selfish all along to keep it, to avoid the love he felt for her rather than hurt her with facts her father had kept from her. He felt torn, ripped up inside, and time was closing in. Poindexter loomed with his offer, while his own inaction sent Katie into the arms of another man.

  “Luc, what is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m glad we came here. It’s done, right?”

  “Next up, fear of commitment,” she said.

  “Katie, I need to tell you something—”

  Katie’s cell phone rang, and her body tightened again. She pulled away and left him in that way she did—where she went away, though her body never moved. She fumbled through her floppy purse until she pulled out the phone and cut off the persistent rendition of “In the Mood.”

  “It’s two already?” she asked before answering. “Hello . . . Yes, we’re here at my mom’s house, but she’s not here . . . No, no problems with the flight.” She paused. “No, I haven’t gotten the ring yet, but I haven’t seen my mother either . . . Yeah, he’s right here. You want to talk to him?”

  Katie handed him the phone, which he could hardly refuse without looking like a wuss.

  “Hello?” He couldn’t imagine what Poindexter had to say to him.

  “Yes, this is Dexter Hastings speaking.”

  “I figured. What can I do for you? You need someone to kiss her good night for you?”

  “Funny. Listen, I know Katie had to go home to get that ring, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t let her spend too much time around her mother. I don’t think the woman is a good influence on her.”

  Luc turned away from Katie. “It’s her mother,” he said quietly. “Katie survived childhood, I think she’ll make it through the next few days.”

  “Be that as it may, Katie and I have gone through a proper, biblical premarital class, which spoke of leaving one’s family to cleave to your new family. I see no reason why she should start up a new relationship with her mother now that all that water is under the bridge. So . . . do I have your word?”

  “My word for what?”

  “That you’ll keep Katie from her mother’s undue influence?”

  “Dexter, Katie’s a grown woman. She does what she wants.” Luc looked right at Katie when he said the words. “Have you met our little Katie?”

  “Katie is going to be my wife, and I would like her to be free of this baggage when she comes to marriage. That’s hardly too much to ask from a longtime friend such as yourself.”

  “I think it is, actually. Chin up, Dex. Things are never so bad they can’t get worse.”

  “Shakespeare?”

  “Bogart.” He snapped the phone shut and handed it back to Katie. “What is wrong with that guy?”

  “Did you hang up on him?”

  “Shakespeare? Give me a break. Katie, you can’t marry that guy. He thinks dealing with your mother is a violation of your marriage contract. I can’t wait for him to meet her and see who is actually in charge here. There’s something not right about him.”

  “Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle a certain color.” Her phone rang again, and she walked ahead of him and answered it. She kept staring back at him as she spoke.

  How could his beloved Katie, whose heart beat wildly on her sleeve, give up so much to enter into a marriage void of real love? And it was void, like Dexter himself. Luc’s own motives suddenly felt very selfish. As if Katie was a pump that needed to be primed. His treatment of her had affected her in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine, and he got to watch the whole nightmare play out in front of him. Not until now, when he witnessed what she was willing to give up for marriage and a family of her own, did he understand the repercussions of what he’d done.

  “Don’t marry him!” he shouted ahead to her. “You want to get married, we’ll get married, but you can’t offer up your hand for that. Are you kidding me?”

  She shushed him with a wave of her hand and finally said good-bye and closed her phone. “As irresistible as that heartwarming gesture was, I think I’m going to stick with my fiancé.” She laughed. “I’m not desperate to get married.” She forced his eyes to hers. “I’m not settling, Luc. I’m marrying Dexter because he wants the same things I do. Because Dexter would never let me make a fool of myself in front of his family. Or reject me in front of all of our acquaintances. Maybe he’s not all moonlight and roses, but maybe I had enough of that. Maybe I learned that pretty words amount to a lot of nothing in the long run.”

  His jaw twitched. “I was a kid, Katie. A jerk, all right? Are you ever going to forgive me?”

  He stood on the cracked sidewalk and watched her gentle, feminine stride as the distance between them increased. He’d let eight years pass without telling her the truth. Only an idiot would have allowed a girl like Katie, with her perfect reddish-blond hair and absorbing green eyes that saw into one’s soul, to languish for eight years. Whether it was love of money or just an avoidance of reality by staying busy, he’d raised his own grave. Was it any wonder she stood ready with the rake to push his bones to the back of the vault?

  “I forgive you, Luc.” Her smiling eyes spoke the words, so that he felt them. “I forgave you a long time ago. Is that what you wanted to talk with me about?”

  He stood, transfixed by her eyes, filled with warmth and a connection he’d never known before. He touched her face and let his hand trail her cheek. “You can’t marry Dexter.”

  “Luc, there are a billion reasons why I’m going to do just that.”

  Chapter 8

  IT’S BEEN SO LONG

  Katie felt Luc’s presence behind her; like a sixth sense, her body registered his closeness. She wished to high heaven that would stop. It was unnervi
ng. Maybe it was only their shared love of the forties time frame that bound them together. After this week, she’d leave that in her past too. And if that didn’t work, she’d trample his fedora under her stiletto. This time she’d give the photographer her full name, spelling included.

  The hanging moss draped from the eerie, life-filled oaks that might have told stories for centuries. She slowed down, savoring her walk past the galleries with their porch swings behind wrought iron gates, breathing deeply the moist air with its intoxicating scent of magnolias. Each step reminded her what made the city of New Orleans greener, richer, and deeper than any destination she’d hope to travel to. The energy of the place filled her with warmth and soothing memories of good food, laughter around the table, and—love. She felt enveloped by the atmosphere and the emotion of being wrapped up in someone’s arms.

  “It’s like the city has a pulse, isn’t it?” Luc asked, as if reading her mind.

  “A steady one,” she agreed.

  “With the occasional palpitation.” He swept his gaze to the ground and back to her. “Katie—”

  “You know what I love about my job. What do you love about hawking vitamins?”

  He cocked a brow. “That’s what you think I do?” He strode in front of her. She quickened her step and followed.

  “Vitamins, herbs, green algae drinks that no human with taste buds can swallow, homemade soups that taste like someone softened the cat food with vegetable broth. Oh, and baked goods minus the gluten and any sense of moisture. Do I have everything now?”

  He looked behind him. “I see the real Katie has returned. Obviously, overcoming the St. Charles’ streetcar caused a spark. My soup is good. Have you ever tried it?” He pointed to a fountain filled with green water as they passed a house. “It may look like that, but it tastes fantastic.”