Acadian Waltz
Page 25
“I thought you should see this, before you heard about it from anyone else.”
I picked up the paper and gleaned over the small article on the page. It was a wedding announcement for Dr. and Mrs. John Blessing. I smiled as I looked at the picture of the woman in John’s arms. She was petite, had long flowing hair, and was very pretty. I put the clipping back down on my desk.
“That could have been you,” Mother professed, pointing at the clipping.
I lightly chuckled. “Thank God, it wasn’t.”
She stood from her chair and waved her hand around the office. “You think this is better? Running a bunch of fish farms, living at that old cottage, and raising his bastard child?”
“Children, Mother,” I corrected her. “They’re twins, you know.”
“I know; God, how I know!” She turned to the large window overlooking the lake. “You have no idea what I have had to go through since word got out about you and Jean Marc. I had to practically beg Father Delacroix to preside over the children’s baptism next month. Why you won’t let me plan a proper reception for the boys at my house is beyond me, Nora. Even Father Delacroix said it would look better for the boys if they were introduced properly to society, considering the circumstances of their birth.”
“Father Delacroix said that?” I tried to picture my mother and our parish priest discussing the indelicacies of my out of wedlock conception.
A ray of sunlight on the water outside my window illuminated my mother’s angry face, making her appear older than I remembered. As she stood there, silently staring at me, I could see the redness retreating from her cheeks. Then her eyes drifted to a framed picture of the boys on the shelf behind my desk.
“Lou told me about what you went through during the delivery. How difficult it was.” She shook her head. “I should have been there. I’m sorry, Nora.”
“Lou was there for both of you,” I assured her.
“He said you named the boys after their grandfathers and my brother.”
I nodded. “Jacques Clayton and Emile Louis.”
“Lou was so pleased you thought of him.” Her face softened and her voice wavered with emotion. “Your father would have been very proud of you.”
I leaned forward in my chair, fascinated by the change in her expression. “Were you happy with Daddy?”
She fiddled with one of her diamond rings. “It was the best time of my life. Lou is…well, Lou is very good to me. But your father, he was magic. With him, I was happy.”
“That’s why I stay here, Mother.”
She frowned. “Despite everything he did, everything he was?”
A glimmer of the sunlight caught the edge of a silver frame on the corner of my desk. I glanced at the picture of my father and Jean Marc standing on Uncle Jack’s boat when they were both so young and so happy. “Everyone has a past. It’s whether they want a future or not that matters.”
“What kind of future did he give you?” Mother shouted, sounding like her old self. “A future filled with misery, wondering if those two boys will grow up to be like their father, or worse, like that criminal Henri. Oh, Nora, you have no idea what you are in for.”
“Yes, Mother.” I sat back in my chair, grinning at her concern.
“So, where are my grandsons?”
“At the house, with Aunt Marie and Uncle Jack.”
“Nora, don’t call her that. It’s bad enough Marie Gaspard has become my sister-in-law, yet again.” She rolled her big brown eyes at me. “How could you leave those two boys in the hands of that nitwit and my alcoholic brother?”
“Uncle Jack gave up drinking, Mother.”
“My brother, give up drinking? That won’t last and you know it,” she snorted. “If you’re not careful those boys will grow up to be just like Jacques. They will need better examples in their lives, if you want them to—”
“Why don’t you go over to the house and see them?” I suggested.
She straightened her back and held her head up to me. “Yes, I would like that.” She walked to the door, but as she reached for the door handle, she stopped. “Do you think one day, Nora, you might come back to New Orleans?”
“I’ll be back in a few weeks for Henri’s trial.”
She showed me her profile. “They should have gone after him for murder one,” mother stated emphatically.
“He didn’t kill that girl, Mother. Henri shot the real murderer at the house that day, but the DA still wants to go after him for being an accessory.”
“And when the trial is over?” she persisted.
I shook my head. “My life is here.”
She faced me, and her features became uncharacteristically somber. “I know what you must think of me, but I have only wanted the best for you. I always pushed you because I had to make sure you never ended up like me.”
All the guilt she had instilled in me through the years came pouring out of my soul like water breaking through a dam. I was not completely absolved, but I knew my life was no longer going to be guided by my mother’s expectations.
“I understand, Mom. Without you, I would not be the woman I am. You’ve always been the voice inside my head. Thank you for pushing me, and for believing in me.”
My mother quietly opened my office door. “I’m glad you’re happy, Nora. You deserve to be happy,” she softly said, and quickly stepped into the bright light of the warehouse beyond.
Not two seconds later, Steve was in my office doorway, examining me with his piercing blue eyes.
“Honey, they heard her yelling all the way in Baton Rouge.” He frowned. “Was it bad?”
“Better than I expected. She came to see the boys.”
He snickered. “’Bout damn time. They’re three months already and she has never set eyes on them. I’m amazed Claire volunteered to plan the christening.”
“Well, the past year has been a bit too much for her. She had to have time to adjust to everything.”
He moved toward my desk. “What about you, Nora? It’s been a hell of a year for you, as well.”
“It has. But I’m still here, Steve. I survived.”
“I guess in your case every dark cloud does have a silver lining.” He raised his eyes to the clock on the wall behind me. “Well, it’s almost time for lunch, and I want to get a good view of all those buff and tanned fisherman coming down the dock for their lunch break.” He clapped his hands together and winked at me. “The highlight of a gay man’s day.” He sauntered out of the office and closed the door behind him.
A twinkling of light from my desk distracted me. I turned to see the sunlight dancing on the picture of Jean Marc and my father. I reached out and touched the image of Jean Marc’s young face.
“Nora!” a man’s velvety voice called from the other side of my office door.
A tall, muscular man with wavy, gray-speckled black hair and fiery, dark brown eyes limped into my office.
“Did you put those orders in for the new bilge pumps?” he bellowed.
I smiled up at him. “Yes, Jean Marc. Two days ago.”
He had a seat in the red leather chair in front of my desk. “I saw Claire storming out of here. What did she say?”
“She came to see the boys. She’s mortified that we aren’t married, and wants me to come home to New Orleans.”
Jean Marc sat back in his chair and rubbed his right leg. “I’ve asked you a dozen times to marry me, but you keep putting me off.”
“I wasn’t about to marry you when you were lying in a hospital bed, and then by the time you were strong enough to walk, I was already five months pregnant with the boys.”
Jean Marc got up from his chair, wincing slightly as he stood. “In a few more weeks I’ll be done with therapy for my leg, and perhaps then we should plan our wedding.” He came around to my side, took my hand, and pulled me from my chair. “Marry me, Nora. Before our sons are old enough to give you away.”
I straightened the bent collar on his crisp white shirt. “Perhaps in the fall, after shrimping
season, when it’s cooler. We can have a small ceremony outside at the house, like we planned.”
He reached his arms about my waist. “When we are married, you will have to waltz with me in front of all our family and friends.” He started to slowly step back and forth as he held on to me.
I laughed as I remembered the steps. “The Acadian Waltz, like when we were children.”
“We will marry, and dance, and then I will make you mine all over again.”
I rested my head against his chest as we danced beneath the bright fluorescent lights. “I’ve always been yours, Jean Marc.”
“I know, my love. I have always known.”
I gazed into his brilliant eyes. “Even when we were little, chasing each other around the docks?”
He held me close. “Even then.”
“How did you know?” I questioned.
“Every Cajun knows that you can only dance the waltz with your true love. Because you can never master the steps, until someone touches your heart.”
The End
About the Author
Alexandrea Weis is a registered nurse from New Orleans who has been writing novels and screenplays for over twenty years. Her first novel, To My Senses, was a finalist for commercial fiction in Eric Hofer Book Awards, a finalist for romance in the Foreword Magazine Book of the Year awards, and a finalist for romance in the USA Book Awards. Her second novel, Recovery, was ranked #1 on the Amazon top rated for romantic suspense in kindle books. Buyer Group International, an independent production company in Austin, has optioned the motion picture rights for Recovery.
Ms. Weis is also a permitted wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries and when she is not writing, Ms. Weis is rescuing orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives outside of New Orleans with her husband and a menagerie of pets.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author