Her breath caught.
He swirled a jumbo shrimp through a cup of thick red sauce then lifted it to her mouth. “Tell me what you think.”
She hesitated. What was he doing?
His twinkling eyes enticed her. “It’s OK.”
She bit into the shrimp and once again met his electrifying gaze. Her eyes closed as she savored the tangy succulent treat. “Mmm, that is good.”
When she opened her eyes, Denny’s unique smile beamed. “I’m glad you like it. My own special recipe.”
Denny’s chiseled bicep, just centimeters from her arm, sent her pulse racing. She marveled at the rareness of the man sitting next to her. He followed Christ, ran a successful company where men respected him, he cooked and even made his own recipes, he was a generous, caring father and son, and was handsome on top of all that. Now she knew why women were interested in Denny Labouve—he was too good to be true.
“Great recipe. Now back to LSU. What’s this yes and no. I thought all Louisianans were die-hard LSU fans.”
He swallowed his bite then stretched out on the blanket. He lay on his side and propped his head with his hand. Clouds rolled overhead blocking the rays of sunshine that peeked through earlier. She met his gaze and could tell by his endearing smile that the memories she suspected he relived were good ones for him.
He cleared his throat and toyed with the fringe of the blanket. “I played high school football for the South Bazet Gators. Star quarterback and all. I’d always dreamed of leaving Louisiana and playing for Notre Dame. When I was ten, I watched the movie about Knute Rockne and decided that’s where I’d play football one day. Turned out, I was accepted, but didn’t get a football scholarship. Got offered full rides to LSU, a couple of schools in California, one in Florida, Alabama, and Michigan. All great schools, but not my dream school. Didn’t help that Notre Dame had just ended the season ranked high. By that time they had several national championships on their record. Made me want to play there even more.” He took a sip from the water bottle he held. “So I packed my bags, took out a massive loan, and headed for Notre Dame. Talk about country goes to city.” He laughed.
“You attended Notre Dame?”
“You sound surprised. Graduated with a degree in mathematics.”
Another thing about this man she never would have expected. She lowered her gaze. “I am surprised. I would have figured you stayed close to home. You know, the hometown hero.”
“That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”
“So, did you play football for Notre Dame?”
“I did. And when senior year came, NFL scouts clamored, courting me with hints of big contracts. I planned to come home, marry Andrea, and take her to whatever city hosted the team that drafted me.”
His smiled faded, and a pained look flashed in his eyes. “Then my dad died. Carroll had his hands full with the newspaper he’d just bought, which left me as the only one to step in and run the business. Mama tried to get me to sell the business and live my dream, but I couldn’t. My father started that business from nothing, and I didn’t want his dreams to die with him. Andrea and I prayed a lot, then I moved back home and took over the business. We were married in the typical grand Cajun style. Two years later Chelsea came along. Life was good.” He popped a shrimp into his mouth.
Kelly sat, taking in what he’d told her, knowing that the rest of the story held a sad truth—life had not always been good to Denny. “Guess you really are like George Bailey.”
Denny smiled. A faraway look filled his eyes. “Yes, maybe. I’ve never regretted the decision to come back here. Through all that’s happened, I’ve learned how precious family really is.”
Kelly finished the last of her sandwich and nodded. Although her family had not been as big as Denny’s, she knew how important they’d been. A pang of longing gripped her. She wished her parents could have seen what she’d seen today. She knew her dad would have loved the swamp. Especially, Gaston. Now she had no one left to call family. Unless of course, she counted Mameré Milla’s invitation to be her grandmother.
****
While Denny lingered with the thoughts of his father and Andrea, he realized the memories hadn’t dumped the flood of pain he’d expected. The memories brought—comfort. A slow gradual gift over the years. Tears stung the back of his eyes. Life moved on. Lord, thank You for the healing.
“So, tell me your story, Kelly Shepherd.”
Her brown eyes dulled from the sparkle of earlier. “There’s not much to tell. I went to college in my hometown, graduated with a degree in journalism, then went to work for the local newspaper. Didn’t venture out like you did.” She stared out into the marsh. “I dated Brent, my ex-boyfriend, while he went to medical school. We were supposed to get married once he started working. Instead he decided being tied down was not for him.”
“Ouch. That had to hurt.”
“It did. I realized I was in love with the idea of getting married and starting a family more than I was in love with him. I had made these crazy plans for my life and now everything was ruined. Seems God was trying to tell me something, only I wasn’t listening. The breakup hurt. Dad dying two months later really hit hard. Made me realize what was really important in life.”
She sighed and gazed across Lake Semeaux. The hurt she harbored tore at his heart. He couldn’t ease her pain. He understood all too well the loneliness and the ache. And as much as he wanted to take it from her, he intimately knew the inability for anyone else to make it go away. She would have to rely on God for that.
When she turned toward him, tears glistened in her eyes. “I miss him, Denny. I miss my dad so much. He was everything to me after my mom died.” She dabbed at her eyes with the Christmas napkin he’d brought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
The urge to embrace her and reassure her overcame him. It took everything he had to resist. Lord, give me the words to help her.
He sat up and with a gentle sweep, lifted her hand to his lips. The feel of her skin on his lips, warmed him. “Don’t apologize. It’s OK, I understand.”
He squeezed her hand and bowed his head. “Father God, I lift Kelly to You. Lord, give her Your peace. Give her the assurance to know that Your peace can heal her. Draw her to You. Lord, let her feel Your presence and know You are with her.”
Tears streaming from her moist doe-like eyes threatened to tear down his resolve. His arms ached to hold her—comfort her. Instead, he embraced her hands in his. “Kelly, I’m here if you want to talk.”
She met his gaze for a brief moment then shielded her pain with lowered lashes. “Some days I’m OK, good even. But then some days…”
With his index finger, he tilted her face upward and stared into her eyes. “I know. I know.”
She sighed then rested her head on his shoulder.
In silence, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry.
Neuf
December 23
Kelly sat across the dining room table in Eula’s house next to Mameré and reached for another dollar bill. “Gaston was a little intimidating at first.”
“I think he’s cool.” Chelsea rolled the crisp dollar bill and handed it to Eula so she could tie a red ribbon around it.
“I told Denny he shouldn’t be teaching Chelsea to play wit’ alligators. That’s not right.” Eula tied a bow and attached the dollar bill to a candy cane then placed it in a basket.
“Now Eula, leave that boy alone. He wouldn’t do anyt’ing to hurt Chelsea. He’s just teachin’ her to respect the swamp and its residents. Passin’ on things just about lost to the next generations.” Mameré Milla’s arthritic fingers rolled the dollar bill. How many dollars had those fingers rolled over the years?
“Mrs. Eula, my father was a lot like Denny. He shared his love of the mountains with me. We camped in tents and explored the Rockies every weekend. Those are some of my most precious memories.” Kelly warmed at the thought of those camping trips. She turned toward Denny’s grand
mother. “You know Mameré, my father used to tell me a candy cane story at Christmas also.”
“He did?” Her eyebrows lifted. “I would love to hear it.”
Kelly repeated the story she’d heard every Christmas as far back as she could remember.
“I like his story very much.” Mameré patted Kelly’s hand. “I believe I would have liked your father.”
Before Kelly could slip too far into memories of her father, Denny walked in through the kitchen door. “Hello ladies, have you watched the news? There’s a cold front coming. Mama, looks like it may be raining tomorrow during the party.”
“That’s OK. We’ll just clear out the garage and set up the tables in there. But dat means no bonfire.”
“Ahhh, that’s my favorite.” Chelsea pouted.
“I thought Mameré’s story was your favorite.” Eula tugged on Chelsea’s ponytail.
“That, too. I have lots of favorites at Christmas.” Her pout morphed into a smile then a giggle for her great-grandmother.
Denny poured a cup of coffee then lifted the pot. “Anyone need a refill?”
His mother raised her cup. “I do.”
He filled his mother’s cup then locked gazes with Kelly. “You OK?”
She knew he meant the level of coffee in her cup, but she sensed he meant more.
Upon completion of the candy cane project, Eula busied herself in the kitchen. While Mameré Milla watched, Denny, Kelly, and Chelsea decorated the gold-tipped cedar tree with the remainder of the candy canes.
Although the outdoor temperatures didn’t feel like Christmas to her, the inviting indoor atmosphere did.
Once they’d hung the last of the candy canes, Denny lifted Chelsea to place a beautiful angel on top the tree.
“OK, Dad. I think it’s in place.”
Before he lowered her, he turned to Kelly. “Is she on straight?”
Kelly examined the angel from different angles. “Looks good to me.” She turned toward Denny’s grandmother. “Mameré Milla, what do you say?”
“I say it’s good.”
Then with a twinkle in his eye that let Kelly know he planned something, Denny lowered Chelsea toward the living room floor. But before he set her free, he tickled her. For the next few minutes, Denny sat on the floor while his daughter dissolved in a fit of giggles. Once he released her from his playful torment, he glanced toward his watch. “Guess what?”
“What?” Chelsea asked between huffs and puffs.
“It’s almost five.”
“Can I get the golf cart?”
“You can.”
“Yaaay!” Chelsea ran toward the back door and when she passed near Kelly she said, “You’re gonna love the parade.”
Scenes ran through Kelly’s mind. Golf cart. Parade. Darkness. She couldn’t make the connections.
“Coffee and hot chocolate is ready.” Eula placed two insulated carafes in a soft-sided ice chest along with a stack of foam cups.
When Kelly looked toward Denny, he smiled. “It’s the Christmas parade. We need the cart so Mameré doesn’t have to walk so far.” He reached for his cup and downed the remainder of his coffee.
An hour later, Kelly sat on a bench at the Labouve family boat dock, coffee cup in hand. The area was illuminated by the soft light of two patio torches and the multitude of Christmas lights twinkling from each boat that slid past the dock in the murky waters of Bayou Labouche.
Greetings, some in French, were yelled from each boat through the dense night air above the backdrop of Christmas music played with a zydeco beat. The familiar Christmas carols came to life in a new way for her with the sound of the fiddle and accordion.
Eula leaned toward Chelsea and pointed toward the brightly lit trawler. “Look, babe. It’s Tante Lulu in Cousin Richard’s boat.”
“Merry Christmas.” A woman waved from the side of a boat so covered with lights Kelly could clearly see the woman’s smiling face and the resemblance to Denny’s mother’s.
Eula waved back. “That’s my younger sister, Louise. We call her Lulu.”
“What does Tante mean?” She waved at the well-wishers floating by.
“That’s French for aunt.”
“Eula!” Another round of calls from a passing boat captured their attention. “Comment ça va?”
With different faces and music, the scenes repeated with each passing boat. Kelly absorbed each new experience with the mind of a journalist, but with Denny and his family, their times together were more than stories to write about. They were memories to treasure. New memories. To replace the old? A fleeting sting of longing pierced her heart as the familiar melody of “White Christmas” drifted toward her.
****
Denny spent more time engrossed by Kelly’s rapt attention to the decorated boats than he did to the boats themselves. For him, the scenes were as familiar as the moss-draped oaks. In the thirty years he’d stood in this same spot, the parade had grown and become more elaborate, but enjoying the scenes through Kelly’s eyes deepened his appreciation for his Cajun culture.
Chelsea hopped on the dock, waving with both arms. “Daddy, look. It’s Jeremy.”
The young boy recognized Chelsea and performed the same hopping dance on the boat. When his father lifted him up, he waved with the same enthusiasm as Chelsea.
Chelsea bounced next to Kelly. “There’s Jeremy. He’s my best friend.” Her thin arm flailed wildly until another boat carrying a load of new faces yelling greetings replaced the one with her friend.
Kelly held Chelsea’s hand and both waved with child-like enthusiasm as the encouraging words drifted across the damp night air. Tiny curls formed around her face making her look even more like an angel to him. He couldn’t deny that Kelly had captured his attention in a mighty way. Could there be more for him? Suddenly, a knot twisted in his stomach. Why Lord? Why someone that lives thousands of miles away?
With Kelly so in love with the mountains and his life so embedded in South Louisiana, he couldn’t see how they could ever have a relationship. As Kelly poured another cup of hot chocolate for his daughter, he ached from the sad realization.
Dix
December 24
Rain pelted the tin roof while Kelly stirred the flour and oil mixture with the long-handled spoon Eula handed to her.
“See how it’s starting to brown.”
“Yes, it’s changing color pretty quickly.” Never had she imagined she’d enjoy a cooking lesson so much. But with Denny at the table chopping vegetables, Mameré Milla grinding meat for her rice dressing, and Chelsea arranging plastic eating utensils in a basket, the action seemed more a family delight than a lonely chore. She soaked in the differences in their culture and food and reveled in the family atmosphere. She felt like family here. The stirrings forming in her heart were a tad more difficult to justify than the article forming in her head.
The back door flew open. “Hello, anybody home?”
A balding man with kind brown eyes similar to Denny’s stood in the doorway. He held a bag full of gifts. A short redhead followed with another bag filled with gifts.
“Carroll and Sherry!” Eula embraced them. “How’s Mr. Poret?”
“Doing well. We got him settled at home. He’s glad to be there and Sherry’s mom is happy she can nurse him back to health.” He smiled. “We’ll drive back tomorrow after lunch.” He approached Kelly and extended his hand. “You must be Kelly Shepherd. I’m Carroll Labouve.”
Kelly wiped her hand on the dishtowel then embraced his. “Nice to meet you.”
He introduced her to his wife. Sherry smiled and shook hands with Kelly. “I see Mama’s got you cooking.”
“She’s showing me the fine art of roux-making.”
Eula moved next to Kelly. “And she’s doin’ a good job.”
Carroll and Sherry exchanged hugs and kisses with the other family members and within minutes had assumed jobs of their own in the filled kitchen. The chatter level raised a few decibels and everyone seemed to talk a
t the same time. Kelly adored watching the family’s interaction.
Before long, more family members arrived, filling the house with more prattle, some even spoken in French. As each new person arrived, their actions seemed choreographed from the familiarity of past parties. Soon, chairs and tables were set up in the garage, all the food cooked, and couples or groups stood or sat about, enjoying one another’s company.
Denny appeared by her side. The gentle pressure of his hand on her elbow surprised her. “Kelly, come with me.” He led her toward the back door. “I want you to meet some of my best friends since high school.”
He flipped open an umbrella for the short walk to the garage. As they walked huddled together to avoid the puddles on the driveway, she grew keenly aware of his closeness. When he introduced her to his friends, Kelly recognized the look of expectation with each new introduction—as though she might be the great hope of romance for their friend. In some ways she enjoyed the flattery, but in another, the feeling left a sad twinge of discomfort. This was not her world.
Just as Denny led her toward another group, the jingle-jingle of silver bells chimed. “It’s time to gather in the house. Mameré Milla is ready.”
Once again, huddled under the umbrella, they followed several family members into the crowded house. Every sitting surface held a body as did much of the floor. Most of the men stood along the outer edges along the walls. Denny led Kelly to an empty chair between his mother and Chelsea.
Eula patted the chair when Kelly approached. “We saved you a seat.”
Kelly lowered into the chair. “Thank you so much.”
Chelsea giggled. “I love this part.”
Denny crouched as he walked around the front to stand behind Chelsea and Kelly. He placed his hand on Chelsea’s shoulder and bent over to kiss the top of her head. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
Mameré Milla stood next to the cane-filled cedar and raised her hand. A silence spread through the crowded house. “Welcome, everyone. I am so grateful to be here another year to enjoy your smiling faces again.” At her words, applause replaced the silence.
Southern Fried Christmas Page 5