“I tried calling you on your cell phone, Nora. John phoned ahead and said he got tied up at the emergency room.”
I sighed and let my shoulders fall forward. “I’m sorry. I thought he would be on time.”
He motioned to a plain wooden chair across from his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat and we can talk a bit. See if John joins us later, all right?”
“Fine, Father.” I headed across the office and sat down.
“I ran into Claire the other day.” Father Delacroix made himself comfortable in his chair. “She seems very worried about you.”
“About me?” I lightly chuckled. “I think she’s more worried about what everyone thinks of my wedding, my wedding dress, what kind of food we serve at the reception, and whether or not I will have a respectable number of bridesmaids by my side.”
He shook his head. “Mothers, I think, are the worst part of weddings. I’ve seen perfectly sane women go absolutely crazy when planning weddings. Don’t be ashamed to blow off a little steam every now and then. Get away from it all. You need that.”
“Do I?” I asked, surprised by his admission.
“Yes, I believe you do.” He sat back in his chair and studied me for a moment. “I, ah, wanted to talk to you about our first meeting. You mentioned your childhood friend, Jean Marc Gaspard. You spoke fondly of him and how he has helped your uncle, but I’m afraid I didn’t see that same appreciation in your fiancé’s eyes. John seemed rather put off by the whole conversation. Was everything all right after you two left here last week?”
I glanced down at my purse in the chair beside me. “John made it quite clear that he thinks I should put my past behind me and forget about the people in Manchac.”
“How do you feel about that?”
When I looked up, his large brown eyes were intently focused on me.
“You know, Nora, I’ve seen a lot of couples come and go through these sessions, and I’m a pretty good judge of who will make it and who won’t. But there are a lot of factors to consider when discussing one’s future with someone. The first thing you inevitably have to deal with is your past. You have to be willing to put it behind you in order to move on, but in your case I don’t think you’ve done that quite yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Tell me about Jean Marc Gaspard,” he said in a soft voice. “How you really feel about him now that John is not here to keep you from speaking the truth.”
“How I really feel?” I casually smiled, hoping to appear untroubled. “Father Delacroix, Jean Marc is an old family friend, nothing more. Other than those childhood encounters, Jean Marc and I haven’t really spent any time together. With my uncle being sick, he has been helping to take care of him, and I have to admit, initially I thought him a bit a rude, but now I think we are on better terms.”
“How does your uncle feel about John? I know Jack has been a pretty big influence in your life since your father died, and I was wondering what he thinks about your impending marriage.”
I fidgeted in my chair as I thought of my uncle. “He doesn’t like John.”
“Why doesn’t he like John?”
I placed my purse in my lap. “My uncle has never really gotten to know John.”
Father Delacroix rested his hands on his desk and sighed. “Nora, do you love John?”
My mouth fell open. “Of course I love John. I wouldn’t be going through all of this if I didn’t love him.”
“Yes, you would,” Father Delacroix admitted with a grin. “I’m afraid you would hide your true feelings from everyone, including yourself, in order to please your mother, your stepfather, and satisfy your expectations.”
I rose from my chair, clutching my purse in my hands. “I’m not hiding my feelings from anyone.”
Father Delacroix stood from his chair. “Nora, all I’m asking is for you to think about this marriage. Ask yourself if this is what you want. You’re doing what your mother and John want, but I don’t hear your voice coming through in any of this wedding.” He waved his hand at me. “I’m sorry, but I’ve watched you grow up in this church. I saw how much your father loved you, and I have to question if this is what he would have wanted for you.”
“Whose side are you on, Father? Shouldn’t you be encouraging me to be a good wife and mother instead of trying to talk me out of marrying the only man who ever….” I stopped myself.
“The only man who ever what, Nora?” He gave me an encouraging smile. “The only man who ever asked you to marry him. Is that what you were going to say?”
I placed my purse strap over my shoulder. “I should go,” I mumbled.
“I’ve upset you and that wasn’t my intention. Perhaps we should discuss something else.”
“Thank you, Father, but I think I will go home now.” I bolted for the office door. “If John shows up tell him I got tired and had to leave.” I stopped at the door as a thought hit me. I slowly turned back to Father Delacroix. “Do you believe in happiness, Father?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course, Nora. I very much believe in happiness. That’s what I want for you. I know it is what your father would have wanted, too. Do you understand?”
As I eyed Father Delacroix, standing behind his desk and wearing his black uniform of faith, the pain in my stomach eased.
“I understand. Good-bye, Father.”
* * *
“You left!” John howled later that night after he got home. “Father Delacroix told me you just left. Nora, what is the matter with you?” He waved his arms about the kitchen as he stood before me, still wearing his long white coat. “I was only half an hour late, and by the time I got there you were gone. And I don’t know what you said to Father Delacroix, but he was worried sick about you. He wanted me to get here right away and check on you.”
I had a seat at my kitchen table. “I was very tired and he seemed to think that all the stress from the wedding was getting to me.”
“So?” John shrugged. “I’m stressed about the wedding, too. But I don’t go around biting everyone’s head off because of it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Your mother called me today. She says you’re not acting right. She wanted to talk to me about getting you some medication. She thinks you’re depressed about something. Are you depressed, Nora?”
My indignation flared as I thought of my mother’s desire to pump me full of happy pills. “Are you kidding me? Because my mother says I’m not acting right, you think I’m depressed? Do I look depressed to you?” I shouted.
John backed away from me. “I don’t know, Nora. You’ve been quiet as hell, you don’t want to make any decisions about the wedding, and you have lost a good bit of weight. I’m beginning to wonder if something is wrong with you.”
I was about to rip into John with all the frustration I had been holding back for weeks, when a funny thing happened; I realized he was right. There was something wrong with me. I had been trying so hard to be the woman John desired and the daughter my mother desperately wanted, that I had stopped being me. I could no longer conform to everyone else’s expectations. It was time for me to fulfill my desires and find the happiness that I deserved.
As quickly as it had ignited, my wrath subsided, and a comforting calm settled over me. I stood from my chair and went to John’s side.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I know I haven’t been myself lately, but that is going to change, I promise. Nothing is wrong with me, John, and I don’t need any medication. I just need some time to sort out my head.”
John nodded as he let out a long sigh. “I’m glad to hear it. I know we’ve had a bit of a whirlwind romance, but I thought you were ready to take our relationship to the next level.” He lowered his eyes to the stainless steel watch on his wrist. “I’ve got to get back to the hospital. I’ll be home Saturday morning. We can get together and talk about all of this then.”
“Sure, John. Thank you for understanding.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
He looked me over with his wary gray eyes. “You need to put this unpredictable behavior behind you as soon as possible, Nora. I don’t like you acting this way. It’s not what I planned on.”
I cringed at the mention of his plans, but my stomach remained unusually still, as if my body comprehended something my mind had not yet grasped.
John gave me one last hard glance and then stomped out of my kitchen. I observed his determined gait as he headed toward the living room, and tried to imagine what kind of future I would have with the reserved Dr. Blessing. The funny thing was, I could not envision any future with John. I recalled my conversation with Father Delacroix earlier in the evening, and his words about my father suddenly resonated within me. Since this whole engagement fiasco had begun, I had never once considered what my father would have thought of it. As I pondered what kind of future my father would have wanted for me, and the kind of man he would have deemed best for me to marry, I knew he would never have approved of John. My father taught me that life was about passion. When you’re passionate about something, then you know that your heart is in it for the long haul. And that, I decided was the problem with Dr. John Blessing. My heart wasn’t with him; it was with someone else.
Chapter 15
The following night, I decided to take Steve up on his offer. Leaving the worries of the wedding behind me, I strolled along Royal Street in the French Quarter to the address Steve had given me. As I took in the old Creole cottages with their large front shutters, wrought iron gates, and quaint doorways, I tried to think back to the French Quarter of my youth, filled with so much mystery and history. But most of the area had been lost to tacky T-shirt shops and tourist-driven businesses. The old French Quarter used to be filled with friendly neighbors and small businessmen serving a close-knit Bohemian community of artists, musicians, and the generally odd. But commercialism had replaced community in this small, never-changing part of the world, and just when you thought progress could not affix itself to the brick and stucco of the Vieux Carré, it did, and something once charming and comforting became cheap and tawdry.
After ringing the doorbell at the gated entrance to 1027 Royal Street, I waited patiently for a buzzer to gain access to the narrow alleyway beyond, which would invariably lead to a courtyard. Surrounding the courtyard would be a large house that had probably been chopped into several small apartments. Many of the old homes in the French Quarter had the same basic design, allowing residents protection from all the noise that filled the Quarter day and night. Revelers who descended on the city to drink themselves into oblivion would often forget about the weary occupants of those Creole cottages. As I stood by waiting for admittance, I saw a few of those revelers pass by me, go cups in hand, and a little unsteady on their feet.
“Go Tigers!” a man yelled as he walked past me, wearing a purple and gold football jersey.
I smiled and then thanked the heavens above when the buzzer on the black gate finally rang. I pushed the heavy gate open and made my way inside.
I was immediately engulfed in darkness only broken here and there by lights placed along the bricked walls beside me. I moved slowly through a tunnel with a cement floor and rough-hewn rafters above. When I finally emerged from the darkness, I discovered a small moonlit courtyard filled with people.
Wearing long, white robes and holding candles, they were gathered near a two-tiered fountain in the center of the courtyard. They stood in a semi-circle facing a man who was wearing a crown of brown feathers. Hanging from the neck of this individual I saw a gold medallion. As I tried to make out the strange symbol on the medallion, I heard footsteps in the alleyway behind me.
“Nora,” a voice said over my shoulder.
Steve came alongside me, dressed in a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt.
I motioned to the people in the courtyard. “What’s going on?”
He rolled his blue eyes. “One of my wacky neighbors is having her cult meeting here tonight.”
“Cult meeting?”
Steve nodded to the group. “Honey, we get all kinds in the Quarter these days. Last year my neighbor next door belonged to this vampire cult until the landlord found out they were killing chickens in his courtyard. This one is a little easier to deal with. They just drink magic juice, get high, and see spirits.” He took my arm. “Let’s get out of here before they try and recruit us.”
But before we turned toward the alleyway that led to the street, one member of the group raised a gold chalice in her hands.
Unable to tear my eyes away, I asked, “What’s going on now?”
“That’s their leader.” Steve pointed to the man wearing the crown of feathers and gold medallion. “He’s about to drink from the cup of enlightenment, and then he falls down on the ground and claims to commune with the spirits. It’s bullshit. Come on, let’s go drinking.” He pulled at my arm.
“No, let’s see what happens.”
“Are you kidding me? Honestly, you can see this on HBO any night of the week.”
I directed my attention to the gold chalice that was being passed around the group. “What’s in that cup?”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Wine, drugs, blood, take your pick. These cults seem to be into anything these days.”
“Where do they get these people?”
“Nora, anyone wanting a savior is ripe for these fools. They’re mostly drifters looking for a home, kids passing through town, people like that.”
“So who is…?” My question died on my lips when the leader of the group faced me.
First those black eyes hit me. His dark, wavy hair fell over his right eye, highlighting the scar on his right cheek. When his eyes met mine, for a moment I could see the trepidation in them. But being the professional that he was, Henri Gaspard simply nodded to the young woman beside him, holding the chalice.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered.
“What is it?” Steve queried.
“I know their leader.”
The young woman kneeled before Henri Gaspard and held up the gold chalice. Henri patted the woman’s head, and then raised his eyes to me as if to say, “Look what I can do.” While smirking at me, he took the cup from the woman’s hands. He walked back toward the center of the courtyard and lifted the chalice to his lips. After drinking the contents, Henri slowly put the gold cup down on the edge of the fountain in front of him.
I turned to Steve. “Any idea how much your neighbor pays to belong to this group?”
“A hundred bucks a month. Why?”
Suddenly, Henri fell hard to the cement-covered ground and started convulsing.
I ran to his side as Steve followed right behind me. I could hear some of the women in the group screaming, and as I reached for Henri’s head, a hand grabbed my wrist and tried to stop me.
“He must not be touched during the transfer,” a tall man hollered at me with a very thick accent I could not place.
“Screw your transfer!” I wrenched the man’s hand away from my wrist. “This man is having a seizure.” I glanced back at Steve. “Call 911, now.”
Steve pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. As he spoke to the operator on the other end of the line, a flurry of white robes ran to and fro about the small courtyard.
“I’ll go and meet the ambulance out front,” Steve said as he nodded to me. “You all right with him?”
“Fine,” I answered. “Go.”
Steve took off down the alleyway as I held on to Henri. His body twitched and I struggled to make sure his head did not bounce on the cement beneath him.
“Shh,” I whispered to him. “Easy, Henri. Nora Kehoe is here. I won’t leave you.” I heard his breath rattle in his throat and I prayed that he could get enough air until help arrived.
After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the sound of sirens coming closer. When I looked up, the courtyard was completely empty. By the time the medics got to me, I was still holding Henri’s head, but the seizures had not stopped, and I began
to wonder if they ever would.
* * *
I went with Henri in the ambulance to University Hospital. The medics were not going to allow me to ride in the front of the ambulance until they found out that I was Dr. John Blessing’s fiancée.
“Nora, are you all right?” John shouted as he greeted the ambulance on our arrival at the emergency room ambulance bay. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought they were bringing you in for a second when they radioed ahead.” He helped me out of the ambulance and kissed my forehead. Then he turned to one of the medics. “What have we got?”
“Non-responsive forty-year-old male,” the taller of the two medics began to give his report as he pulled Henri’s gurney from the back of the ambulance. “Had to bag him for half the ride. Just started breathing on his own a few minutes ago. Don’t have any idea what he took. We brought the cup we found next to him. Hopefully, it has traces of the stuff he drank in it.” The medic nodded at me as they approached the emergency room entrance. “She witnessed the whole thing,” he added.
I saw John’s gray eyes turn to me just as the automatic doors to the emergency room closed behind him. I stayed outside by the ambulance, not wanting to walk into the emergency room and face him. But moments later, John came back out the automatic doors and grabbed my arm.
“Do you know this guy?” he asked, pulling me toward the emergency room entrance.
“His name is Henri Gaspard. You know him, too. You met him at Lou’s jewelry store a few weeks ago,” I reminded him.
After going through the automatic doors, we stopped in a wide, white hallway.
John let go of my arm. “But why are you here with him?”
“I went to meet my secretary, Steve, at his place in the Quarter. He invited me to go to a karaoke bar for drinks. Henri was leading a cult meeting in the courtyard where Steve lives. Right after I arrived, he drank something from that cup they brought in and began seizing.” I shook my head. “I told the paramedics you were my fiancé so I could come to the hospital with Henri.”
Acadian Waltz Page 14