A Billion Reasons Why

by Kristin Billerbeck

  The limo pulled up into a line of fancy cars under the striped awning that surrounded the deep aqua Victorian with the bird’s-nest spire at its corner. Her nerves returned at the thought of getting out of the limo. She prayed she’d know which fork to use and the proper way to lay her linen napkin across her lap. Mrs. DeForges probably expected her to fail—the worst she could do was live up to the expectation.

  The door opened, and Leon helped her out of the car.

  Luc stayed alongside her as they followed a steady stream of guests into the building.

  “What’s the matter, Katie?” he asked.

  “Nothing, why?” Her voice shook.

  “You’re squeezing my hand to the point of cutting off my circulation.”

  She dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous, I guess. I suddenly realized we never practiced in front of an audience.”

  “Just imagine them in their underwear. Isn’t that what they say?” Luc grasped her hand again. “You ever been here?”

  Amidst all the beaded gowns and tight, dewy skin, Katie felt like a lone orange in the apple cart. “No.”

  “Don’t worry. Once this crowd is plowed with wine, they’ll seem no different from the drunks in the Barrelhouse. Besides, that’s tomorrow. Tonight we dance, right? God has made everything beautiful in his time, no?”

  “Yes.”

  As they entered she nearly expected to be announced, like they did with all the princesses in the movies. Luc raised her wrap from her shoulders and handed it to a coat girl in exchange for a ticket.

  Katie wondered if her Paddy could see her now, acting every bit the lady at Commander’s. What a laugh he’d have over her singing at a DeForges wedding.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “I’m happy,” she answered.

  “Good. You should be.”

  Stepping inside the richly decorated private room, Katie gasped. “It’s amazing!”

  Crystal drop chandeliers with candles hung from the ceiling, vintage silver “walls” were created from Victorian ceiling panels, black tablecloths and tiny white lights were draped everywhere, like magical stars from the night’s sky. The room had a long head table on a pedestal and several round tables below. Katie walked closer to the first table, anxious to see each tiny detail that Olivia and her mother had created for the silver screen look. She lifted a place card and read the name, then bent to smell the fresh rose scent of the white centerpiece.

  “Luc, can you imagine? All of this for a rehearsal dinner!”

  He flashed a condescending smile, and she stood upright.

  “I wasn’t implying—”

  “No, I understand,” he said, yanking his cuffs from underneath his suit. “Tonight. Remember?”

  She felt her bottom lip tremble.

  “Now, Katie, you’re the one who said this. We’re luggagefree tonight. No history. No baggage.”

  She nodded. “I know. You’re right. But I really didn’t mean—”

  “And whatever you imagined my face to say, it really didn’t mean—”

  “Katie, Luc, you both look stunning!” Mrs. Tyler rubbed Katie’s back gently with the kind of warmth that only mothers seemed to possess. “Luc, you and Katie are up at the head table next to your mother. Katie and your mother were getting reacquainted at the shower. I thought it would be nice for them to have more time.”

  Luc and Katie looked at one another and grinned.

  “No, wait, I forgot. We moved you to make room for Olivia’s maid of honor. We didn’t figure you’d care. You’re down here at the round table with us.”

  Katie breathed a sigh of relief. Although it seemed strange that the mother of the bride was on ground level, she wasn’t about to ask questions or stir up trouble where she didn’t need any. Mrs. DeForges was probably where she might do the least amount of damage and still feel the most important.

  Katie mingled with the crowd, her dress making her feel as though she belonged. She chatted up strangers as if she was Ingrid Bergman on a binge in Notorious or Katharine Hepburn working the press in The Philadelphia Story.

  Finally, worn out from her one-act play, she sat before the place card where her name was printed in careful script.

  “I can’t wait to dance with you,” Luc growled into her ear. She turned her head as if his voice did nothing to her, when really she felt it to her toes.

  “Relax. We still have dinner, speeches, and bread pudding to muddle through, and the dance floor hardly looks inhabitable.”

  “Not here.”

  She raised her brows. “Luc DeForges, if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it’s not to go anywhere unattended with you.”

  “Jem and Eileen are coming too. I asked them.”

  Dinner plodded along. Dishonest speeches were given. Warm family toasts were read from 3 x 5 cards. Luc’s dad was the last to speak, and he sat alongside Mrs. DeForges in a chillingly vertical stance, the life force seemingly drained from his body. Luc recognized it too, and he stood, apparently to make amends for his father’s lackluster speech. He tapped on his champagne flute with a fork.

  “Excuse me, everyone. I’d like to make a toast.”

  Katie loved that he spoke from a place of strength and virility, as if to say that the DeForges family line was solid and their commitment to New Orleans, and now to the Tylers, was everlasting.

  “But before I do, I’d just like to clear up some confusion. I’m here with my beautiful date for the evening, Katie McKenna.”

  There was a light round of applause.

  “I’d like to congratulate my brother Ryan on selecting such a wonderful addition to our family. You’re not worthy of her, bro, but we’re thrilled to have you, Olivia. When you first knocked my brother over on roller skates, I never imagined I’d be standing here today. The emergency room, yes, but not here. You two bring out the best in each other. You have more fun than any couple I’ve ever seen, and I plan to be standing here toasting your fiftieth anniversary.”

  Applause filled the room again.

  “And if you’ll permit me one more thing. With the gracious permission of my brother and his beautiful bride, I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce my own engagement.”

  Katie’s eyes went wide. She scanned the room for some blonde worthy of being Luc’s trophy wife, but she knew exactly what he was doing.

  “That is, if she’ll have me.” He bent on one knee and opened her ring box.

  “Luc, no. Not here,” she said through clenched teeth. “Fun, remember?”

  “Katie McKenna, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? You’ve always been the only one for me, and it’s time you made an honest man out of me.”

  She felt the heavy stares all around her and the heat flame in her face as cameras flashed. She stood and pushed the microphone down and whispered in his ear, “We said tonight. It was just going to be tonight, no history, no future.”

  “You said tonight.” He nodded. “I’m asking for forever. I’m greedy that way. Check my bank account.”

  The walls felt tight. The colors and faces swam together. She had decided to live her life without fear, but that didn’t mean she was ready for this. Where would they live? Would she lose her school? Would she just trade being Mrs. Hastings for being Mrs. DeForges and lose all her independence again? Her faith? She had a terrible habit of waiting for men to rescue her rather than relying on her own faith in God.

  Luc blinked. His confident air seemed to falter.

  “Excuse me,” she said, before she ran from the room. She didn’t even realize she’d offered him no answer until she was outside under the streetlight wondering which way to go. She heard voices—Leon’s, Eileen’s, Luc’s—calling her name.

  “Katie!”

  “Katie!”

  “Katie!”

  She whirled around and felt her heel drop into a crack on the sidewalk.

  She heard Fred Astaire singing “Cheek to Cheek,” and she began to sway to the mus
ic. She wrapped her arms around him and recalled what it felt like to hear the music for the first time, to watch Fred Astaire dance on air and take Ginger in his arms with nary an effort, as if they’d both sprouted wings. The music soothed her, and her feet took small steps to the dance floor that appeared, white and empty, with only a single spotlight shining like an invitation. It was her moment, her chance to shine. She felt the luxurious ostrich feathers of Ginger Rogers’ gown, the smooth satin against her waist, and hummed along with Astaire. Out of the surrounding darkness Luc appeared, wearing a topcoat and tails and a smile. His magnificent, warm smile. His long, lean legs stepped toward her, and he whirled her into his arms. The warmth of his hand on her back caressed her and she inhaled the thick, clean scent of him, tasted the resonance in his voice as he sang, “Heaven . . . I’m in heaven . . .”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead with all the grace of Fred Astaire and the strength of Burt Lancaster. He twirled her about the room, and she dared to look into his eyes. His ardent, deep blue eyes, which held years of memories and the spark of hope to a magical future.

  God had created Luc DeForges just for her. His body next to hers—the perfect fit—the last piece of the puzzle that connected their lives, their families. Love appeared and filled in the space between the DeForgeses and the McKennas, Uptown and the Channel, Northern California and the South, 1945 to now . . .

  “Kiss me, Luc. Kiss me like you’ve never kissed another soul.” But as she reached for the key that unlocked the secret, her vision became misty until it evaporated into thin air.

  “Katie!”

  She groaned. “My head.” Her forehead throbbed and her vision blurred. “I can’t see.”

  Someone pulled her lace hat away. Her vision cleared. Feet surrounded her, and she recognized her peep-toe heels on Eileen.

  “I’m on the ground,” she said—half statement, half question.

  “You ran into that post.” Eileen banged on the solid block of wood. “You were like a chicken with its head cut off. You kept running, and we were all shouting your name. What were you thinking? Didn’t you hear everyone calling you?”

  “Oh my goodness, what did I do?” She sat up, embarrassed, while Uptown guests waiting for their cars stared down at her. “Olivia! Did I ruin her night?”

  “Olivia’s still inside dancing, having the time of her life,” Eileen reassured her. “She has no idea you’re out here splayed on the banquette. And your mam’s on her way. You were out cold, but I told them you’d done this before. Remember the time you walked into the post at Nordstrom?” Eileen giggled. “Girl, it’s like you got a magnet in your head sometimes. I know, it’s totally not funny, but one minute you’re up and the next . . . splat!”

  “Ugh. Why didn’t you just kill me and put me out of my misery?”

  “Because then I wouldn’t get to be maid of honor at your wedding.”

  “Dexter went home, Eileen. It’s off.”

  “You did hit your head. Your wedding to Luc, silly.”

  “I’m not marrying Luc. He just did that so I could turn him down in front of everyone.”

  “Katie, I don’t think he asked you for that reason.”

  “I know he didn’t.” Jem reached down and helped her off the ground. “Katie, lean against the post.” He righted her and helped her straighten herself. “Luc asking you to marry him in front of everyone? That was real. He asked for permission from Ryan first, so as not to upstage the happy couple. He thought it was important to propose publicly, since he”— Jem cleared his throat—“well, since he rejected you publicly. But it turns out, now you’ve rejected him publicly. So you’re either terminally incompatible, or you’re even.”

  “Where is he? Where is Luc?”

  “He had an emergency.”

  She rubbed her forehead and captured a small dab of blood on her palm.

  “Mrs. DeForges will never forgive me. I’ve ruined another one of her parties.”

  “Wait until she sees the paper with your unconscious self sprawled against a lamppost and the announcement that her son asked for your hand in marriage. That’s not going to be a fun breakfast table,” Eileen said.

  “Oh, my head aches.” But Katie didn’t care about any of that. She wanted to know where Luc had gone. “Jem, if you see Luc, would you tell him I don’t hold him to anything. I’ve made a fool out of him again tonight. I know he needs a wife who can talk politics or the stock exchange, all while walking in heels. Tell him I’m sorry.”

  “Unfortunately for Luc, he’s in love with you,” Jem said, rubbing her back.

  “You are engaged,” Eileen said. “You have been engaged since the moment you laid eyes on Luc DeForges, and you can’t tell me otherwise. If you had ever talked to me about another living soul the way you do Luc, I could grant you some leeway, but the fact is, your heart has been engaged since the moment he walked into that bar.”

  “Of all the gin joints . . .” Jem began, in his best Bogart voice.

  “Even if Luc broke your heart a thousand times, another man didn’t stand a chance. He’s waited long enough, and so have we. Put us out of our misery already.”

  If only she could.

  Chapter 21

  IN THE MOOD

  “Mam!” Katie emerged from her room in her nightgown. She struggled to breathe. “Mam!” she called over the staircase landing.

  Her mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Katie, what on earth? Are you all right?”

  “Mam, my gown is missing! I opened the zippered bag—” She stopped to catch her breath. “I opened it, and the dress is gone. The pink one with feathers—it’s gone. There’s a white one in the bag. It’s not my dress at all.” She rubbed her forehead. “Could I have left it in the limo? Maybe the plane! Oh, Mam, I think Luc was mad enough when he left me last night, or he would have said goodbye, at least found out if I was all right. What if he doesn’t want me to come?”

  “Relax. Luc was here this morning, and he switched them out himself. Didn’t you hear the doorbell?”

  “No.”

  “He said the band is going to be in tuxedos, so he thought white was better.” Mam tapped a finger on her chin. “I’m supposed to tell you something else.”

  “The orchestra was always going to be wearing tuxedos. I can’t wear white to someone else’s wedding. It’s the—Mam, are you wearing makeup?” She could count on one hand the times she’d seen her mother made-up.

  Mam patted her coiffed hair. “I am. I’m trying something new.”

  By trying something new, she assumed her mother meant in this decade. But judging by the 1978 frosted pink lipstick, it appeared everything old was new again.

  “Luc was here this morning? In my room?”

  “Yes. He’s got Harry Connick, Jr.’s big band now, so they’ll be your backup.”

  “Harry Connick is nobody’s backup. Least of all mine. Where is Eileen?”

  “She took Pokey home. Luc’s invited her too. Actually Jem did the inviting. They’re getting along like two frogs on a lily pad. Eileen likes Harry Connick, Jr. too. You know, that puts it into perspective for me, Katie. I get it, the fascination with the smooth standards, when you say ‘Harry Connick.’ What a talent that boy is. And so handsome.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I saw him on Canal Street once. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Yes, Mam.” Only about a hundred times. “You let Luc into my room?”

  “Well, I told him where the dress was. He knocked. I heard him knock. You must have been exhausted after your adventure last night.”

  “Where is Eileen?”

  “You already asked me that. She went to take Pokey home. She’ll be back. You’re so high-strung this morning.”

  “Mam.” Katie tried to calm her voice. “Why would you let a strange man into my room by himself?”

  “Luc isn’t a strange man. And you were asleep.”

  “What if I was sleeping naked?”

  �
��Well, that would be strange. I never taught you that it was all right to sleep naked.” Mam paused. “Were you naked?”

  “No! But look at me! My hair’s a mess. I have no makeup on. What if I was drooling on the pillow?”

  “Ick. I’d have to get a new pillow. Did you do that? Because they’re having a sale on pillows right now at Target. Maybe I should pick up a few.”

  “Mam! Help me here. This gown is an antique white. It definitely looks like a wedding dress. I’m a good Southern girl. I can’t wear white to another woman’s wedding.”

  Mam shook her head. “That’s what Luc told me to tell you. It’s the dress from Swing Time. I will never understand your fascination with that era. There was a war on. What’s romantic about that? Nana said it was miserable. Harry Connick I can understand, but the forties?”

  “The other dress was from Top Hat. The feathered one. Luc had it copied.”

  “Right. This one is an original. It’s the one Ginger wore when she kissed Fred Astaire in Swing Time. That’s what I was supposed to tell you.” Mam patted the banister. “You’re supposed to be very careful with the gown because it’s from a private collector. It hasn’t been seen in public since a museum gala in New York City. Oh, and the cape isn’t with it because it’s apparently too fragile to travel.” Mam smiled, apparently well pleased with her memory skills. “There’s a cape.”

  “You mean there’s not a cape.”

  “Right. But originally there was a cape.”

  “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going.” Katie started to walk back to her room. “This is nothing like what I promised. I’ll buy my own ticket back to California if I need to.”

  “Sure you will. Luc’s invited us so that we can see Harry Connick. He’s from New Orleans, you know.”

  “I’m going to sing at a wedding with Harry Connick, Jr. with no practice whatsoever? In a white wedding dress? I’m thinking not. This is just a bad American Idol episode waiting to happen, and I’m not starring in it.”

  “You have a lovely voice, Katie. It was good enough to put yourself through college. Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, I’m sure it’s all right, if Luc has it set up this way. And you already embarrassed yourself twice in front of all these people—they’ll be expecting it. Anything above total humiliation is a win.”