The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

“She doesn’t hate me. Not exactly,” Paul said hastily. “Just the company. And the new store. And what we do for a living.”

  Mrs. Olivier had been in the process of picking up a meat pie, but she paused, the pie halfway to her mouth. “But she likes something about you well enough to be kissin’ you under the trees in front of the whole town.”

  Paul grinned. “Yup, apparently so.”

  His phone dinged and he reached for it automatically. An email showed on the screen and he tapped it, feeling his heart rate double at the sight of Alice’s name. Won’t be able to meet tonight. He read the note twice, three times. Hadn’t she understood when he quoted Elizabeth Barrett Browning? He thought she’d kissed him because he was BWK.

  He leaned back, running a hand over his face. Alice had kissed him as Paul, the man she couldn’t stand. That news rocked him to his core. She must feel just as strongly for him if she could forget everything else that was happening, everything she’d vowed to fight. She didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who picked a fight for nothing. Or took a kiss lightly, either.

  “Uh oh. That’s not a good look.” Andy was chewing slowly, watching Paul.

  “No, everything’s fine. Just… took a step backwards when I thought we were going forwards.” Paul tossed the phone onto the table and picked up a Coke. “But I’m not going to worry about it now. Tonight,” he said, raising the bottle, “tonight we’re going to enjoy ourselves. Here’s to the new Natchitoches, Louisiana branch of the biggest and best company in gaming.”

  His mama and Andy raised their Cokes in unison. They clicked the glass bottles together and drank, smiling.

  Paul picked up his meat pie, letting Andy take over the conversation for a moment. Andy asked his mama about hiring someone to come cook for them. He smiled as his mama seemed to take it as her personal responsibility to find a good local chef to make them a few meals a day. She took that sort of thing very seriously.

  He let the smile fade from his face as he thought of Alice’s note. He wasn’t going to give up. Now, more than ever, he needed to tell her the truth. Their online connection had been strong enough for him to seek her out in the real world. Their connection in person had overshadowed all of that.

  Paul took a long draught of Coke and stared at the dancers on the stage. At this point, he could still walk away. He could find another place to rent, avoid any contact with her, and let that kiss live in his memory as one perfect moment.

  He thought those words to himself but knew it was a lie. He was going to walk this road to the end, for good or bad. And he hoped with everything in him, it was going to be for good.

  ***

  Alice trotted up the steps to the cathedral just as the bells started to toll. She was never late. Ever. Except for today. She’d tried on ten dresses and none of them looked right. Maybe Eric was right and she needed to take up running. She’d finally picked a pretty pink top with a black skirt. She probably looked like a waitress from one of the cafes. And her hair… there was no taming it. After thirty minutes of fixing, she’d given up. By the time she’d stopped trying to accomplish the impossible, she’d realized it was now or never. Well, now or take the car. She hated to drive just a few blocks. It was wasteful and finding a good parking spot was a bear.

  She had just not been able to get herself in gear. It wasn’t just that she kept checking her email, wondering why BWK had not written her back. She hoped he wasn’t angry. But there wasn’t any reason for him to upset with her. They’d barely gotten to know each other. Just a few notes. Nothing real. Except that it felt a lot more real than her relationship with Eric.

  Maybe she’d had trouble this morning because she’d slept so badly and then she dreaded trying to get down the hallway without running into Paul or Andy. She sighed. There was no way to come back from last night. The only option was complete avoidance. Then again, she’d said that before and it hadn’t worked out.

  “Hey there, sweetie. Find yourself a spot real quick-like.” Helen Delassixe gave her a kiss on the cheek and tugged her toward the aisle. Alice felt the angst of the morning slowly fade away at the touch of Helen’s papery skin, a little cloud of baby powder accompanying the kiss. The elderly woman had been part of Alice’s Sunday morning since she was a child, before the cathedral was named a Minor Basilica, and before Alice had become a respected bookstore owner.

  The organ was just reaching its usual roar when Alice slipped into a pew and reached for a hymnal. She knew most of the songs by heart, but if the organist decided to go for that fourth verse, she’d have to get out the songbook anyway. She sung familiar words and felt the muscles in her shoulders start to relax. Sunday morning was her favorite time of the week, bar none.

  Or it had been until a movement caught her eye and glanced to her left in time to see Paul and his mother coming up the side aisle. Alice felt her mouth drop open and her hands went numb. He wore a nice suit and tie, looked freshly shaved but about as tired as Alice felt. She wondered how long he’d stayed at the festival. She slouched down, hoping they would pass by and head for the front pews. Surely he’d want to be seen by the congregation, especially if he was trying to win support for his store.

  Instead, his mother turned her head and caught Alice’s eye. She smiled, then tugged Paul to a stop. He was staring down at his feet and seemed to follow where she was leading without looking up.

  His mother wouldn’t… she couldn’t… but she did. Alice watched in growing horror as his mother stopped at Alice’s pew, stepped to the side and motioned for Paul to go first. He genuflected, then looked at Alice for the first time.

  She wished she could have seen her own face, because she figured they wore the same expression. Surprise, shock, dread. There was nothing like seeing your make out partner from last night in church the next day.

  “Hey,” he whispered as he side-stepped into the pew.

  “Hey,” she whispered back, and scooted down several feet. She looked longingly at the far end and wished she was bold enough to just keep going until she hit the next aisle. Or even slip away and come back at a later service. But her manners wouldn’t allow her to be so obvious.

  The organist decided three verses was enough and let the last few chords fade away. Alice mumbled the opening greeting and hoped her face was set in a smile. Of course, he couldn’t see her expression since they were shoulder-to-shoulder. He smelled wonderful, as usual, except he lacked the old book smell this time. She let her eyes slide to the left, taking in his charcoal-gray suit and nice dress shoes. She’d figured he spent all his time in T-shirts and jeans, but of course he would be wearing a suit every now and then. Even when the whole world thought you were the cat’s meow, you still had to dress up for church.

  After a few minutes, the congregation settled into the pews for the first Bible reading. As she sat, Alice snuck a look at Paul’s mom. Her dark hair was pulled back and she had just a hint of makeup on her face. She seemed perfectly at ease. Alice would have liked to believe his mom was trying to bring them together. But it was much more likely his mom was trying to give a little nudge in that special way that moms always have. Guilt was always a great way to get the message across, just in case Alice thought she could get caught kissing Paul and get away with it.

  The words all seemed to blend together and Alice clenched her fists, letting her nails dig into her palms, forcing herself to concentrate. As the lector finished the first reading, Alice shifted uncomfortably. She never could have imagined the torture of sitting just feet away from the man she’d kissed, then run away from, and his mother whom she’d refused to meet. At the announcement of the Gospel, the congregation moved to stand and Alice shot a glance at Paul. He looked calm enough, but his jaw was tight and the line of his mouth didn’t speak of happy Sunday vibes. Well, if he thought he was uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to what Alice felt.

  ***

  The last hymn finally faded away and Paul dropped the hymnal into the pew pocket. He cleared his throat, leaned closer, a
nd whispered, “Sorry. I never would have decided to sit in the same―”

  “Paul!” His mama had ahold of his elbow. “Why don’t we have your friend over for lunch?”

  He saw the look on Alice’s face and it would have been funny if he hadn’t felt just the same.

  “Mrs. Olivier, thank you so much but I really should get back,” Alice said, a hint of panic in her voice. She was edging out of the pew, looking around her.

  “You keep the store open on Sundays?” His mama narrowed her eyes. “Or do you have another date?” The another seemed to reverberate in the air between them all.

  “No. And well, no…” Her face turned bright pink. She shot Paul a look and seemed to be asking something, but he shook his head.

  “Please come to lunch, Alice.” He gave a little shrug as he said the words. She met his eyes and at first he thought she was going to argue, but then he added, “please”.

  Her lips turned up at the corners. “That would be lovely,” she said. “I walked here today but I can go home to get my car and meet you wherever you’re going.”

  “Wonderful,” his mama said. “I was just fixin’ to make a little something at Paul’s new place. So, I guess we’re going the same direction.” They walked in silence down the steps and he tried to catch Alice’s eye, but she resolutely faced forward.

  “Paul, why don’t you go get the car while we wait for you in front?” his mama asked. Paul nodded, feeling his stomach drop into his shoes. Leaving his mother alone with Alice was the worst case scenario but he didn’t know how to avoid it.

  With a sigh, he trudged off to the parking lot, hands stuffed in his pockets. He loved his mama but she wasn’t known for being demure and quiet. She spoke her mind, especially when she felt her son was on the wrong track.

  It seemed most of the congregation was skipping the doughnuts and heading for breakfast. There was already a line of cars backed up at the parking lot exit, waiting for a chance to get onto the road. Paul wondered if Andy would be awake. Maybe he could run interference between the two of them and Alice wouldn’t have to suffer through the third degree. That was assuming she wasn’t getting an earful right that minute. At the thought, Paul doubled his pace, beeping the remote unlock button, slipping off his jacket and angling into the seat.

  He’d acted without thinking last night and he couldn’t believe how the situation had gotten more and more complicated. She probably hated him enough as it was, without having to deal with an angry mother bear. Alice was as far from a seductress as could be, but Paul knew how mothers thought. They always believed their child was a saint. His mama was going to give Alice the what for, and make sure she understood that Paul was a good, Catholic boy.

  He slid the car out and took a place in the long line of cars waiting to exit the lot. Well, it was a proven fact he was far from perfect. Alice shouldn’t have to pay the price for that. If he could just get over there quickly enough, he could keep that from happening.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Soon, silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he creates machines that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation. ― Jean Arp

  Parishioners streamed out of the double doors and after greeting Father Carl, a few headed to the hall for doughnuts and strong coffee. As much as Alice didn’t want to face Paul, watching him walk away had filled her with panic. She stood off to the side of the cathedral, arms wrapped around her middle, Mrs. Olivier waiting quietly next to her. The silence between them felt like an accusation. Alice searched through the crowd, hoping someone would come over and rescue her, but there were only a few waves and one fly-by kiss from old Mrs. Gerbier, her second-grade teacher.

  As the crowd thinned, Alice waited for Mrs. Olivier to say something. Shame mixed with frustration, and she repressed a sigh. Of course Paul’s mother was curious and wanted to get to know her. She couldn’t blame the woman for wanting to poke her nose into the situation.

  Mrs. Olivier tucked her hand into Alice’s elbow and smiled, her eyes the same dark brown shade as her son’s, but the wrinkles around them spoke of years of sun and laughter. “My goodness! There were so many people you couldn’t stir ‘em with a stick. We never came to this church when Paul was little. It was too big for us. It still feels a bit fancy for the likes of little ol’ me. I should have dressed up better.”

  “I think you look real nice.” Alice knew when one woman mentioned her looks, the other should offer a compliment. It wasn’t hard to do. It was clear where Paul got his good looks.

  She patted her hair. “Oh, my beauty operator made me look like Betty Boop this week. I don’t know why I bother except I’ve been goin’ to her for years. I can’t just stop. That would be downright rude.”

  Alice smiled. She could see her dilemma.

  “You like to cook?” Mrs. Olivier asked, as if the topics were related.

  “I― I do, actually.”

  “What do you make? Desserts? My sister has the best peach pie recipe. It’s got a secret ingredient.” She leaned close. “If you’re real nice, I might tuck it in your Christmas card.”

  Alice blinked. No words occurred to her. This wasn’t what she was expecting.

  “Paul told me your breakfast got him out of bed one day. He says he wandered up and down the block looking for bacon and hash browns.”

  “He’s got a good nose,” she said, her lips tugging up. She wondered if Paul had mentioned punching her ex-boyfriend that day, too. Probably not. She turned a little, facing Mrs. Olivier. “He speaks Creole really well. Did he learn it from you?”

  “Oui,” she said, pronouncing it “way,” and letting it stretch for a few syllables. “Myself and my family. He wasn’t always real proud of where he came from, but in the last few years, that’s changed a bit.”

  Alice couldn’t imagine wanting to walk away from this place and pretend to be something she wasn’t, but she could see how a person could want to come home. “Maybe New York City isn’t everything he thought it would be.”

  “Maybe so.” Mrs. Olivier looked up at the sky. “I hope Paul hurries. It looks to be comin’ up a cloud.”

  Alice looked up at the sky, watching the thunder clouds building on the horizon. “We’ll be getting a good storm this afternoon, I’m guessing.”

  “Love and thunder. They always go together.” Mrs. Olivier winked at her.

  “I’ve never heard that phrase.” Alice refused to take the bait. Paul’s mother was going to be nosy after all. She was just easing up to it.

  “No? My Papa used to say that. He’d rock on the porch and watch the afternoon storm, and every time he’d say ‘love and thunder always go together.’ He knew a lot about love, bein’ married to my mama for sixty years.”

  Alice rubbed her arms and wished Paul would get there already.

  “He said he could tell a man in love at fifty paces. Didn’t matter the age or the circumstances. It was something in the way he acted.” She tipped her head to the side. “I think I might have inherited that gift. At least where my boy is concerned.”

  Alice almost swallowed her tongue in surprise. “Oh, no. It’s not like that.” Alice held up a hand. “We just met.”

  “That’s no account. Love doesn’t care how long you been knowin’ each other. But are you saying you don’t have feelings for my boy? Maybe you were expecting something else when you kissed him t’other night?”

  Awkward. Alice would have been offended except that Mrs. Olivier’s tone was light. There was no condemnation, just a big dose of sass and a hint of teasing. But she still didn’t want to talk about it. Not on the steps of her church with all her neighbors milling around. “Mrs. Olivier―” she started.

  “Call me Rosie,” she interrupted.

  “Okay, Rosie, I know Paul is wonderful.” Alice let out a sigh. “He’s charming and really handsome and everyone loves him. Apparently, he’s also some sort of genius, too.”

  This
time, Mrs. Olivier waited patiently for her to finish.

  “But there are so many differences between us.”

  “He’s Creole like you. That should cover a lot of differences,” Mrs. Olivier said.

  Alice bit her lip. “Yes, fine. He’s Creole and a great dancer and a good Catholic guy and protective and generous and everything I’ve ever looked for. I’m sure he’ll make a wonderful husband and a really great dad and―”

  She broke off suddenly. Mrs. Olivier was looking somewhere behind her and Alice had a terrible suspicion that she wasn’t looking at Paul pulling up to the curb.

  Alice turned slowly, afraid to see what she already knew. Paul stood right behind her, his expression a mix of total surprise and something else she couldn’t quite read.

  He cleared his throat. “I tried to get your attention but you all seemed to be having such a good chat.”

  Alice closed her eyes for a moment. He’d heard all of that and probably thought she was sending out wedding invitations. She couldn’t imagine how many women had tried the same thing. One kiss and then they’re picking bridesmaids. Well, not her. She certainly wasn’t looking for someone who lived in New York City and was constructing the ugliest building the historic district had ever seen, while seducing the nation’s young people with mindless video games that contributed nothing to their development. But that wasn’t anything she could say in front of the man’s mother. Even Alice had her limits.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling her sweetest smile, and following his direction toward the car. She could almost feel Paul and his mother exchanging looks behind her back. There was nothing she could do about it now, but as soon as possible, she’d excuse herself back to her own apartment. Nothing good could come from this. Especially since she’d resolved that Monday was the day she would file a complaint with the city over the construction of Paul’s new store. If she could get them to stop construction, even for a few weeks, he might just decide it was better to take his business to some other town.