“No, I can't stay this time, Eva Marie. I'm calling on some of the parishioners.”
“Even though I'm not one of your flock, you are always welcome in my house.”
“No, thank you. I thought while I was out, I'd deliver this to you.” He handed her a small sealed envelope. “Lucien left it with me just before the end. He was unable to speak, but I could see there was something he desperately wanted to say. He pointed to the table next to his hospital bed, and understanding the gist of it, I removed this key. Lucien nodded, and clutched at my arm, as if desperately trying to communicate that whatever the key concealed would be troubling. It's my belief that he was pleading with me to dispose of it. After considerable thought, I decided it was not my place, that it was up to you as the heiress.”
Eva tore open the envelope to find a small silvery key such as would fit a desk drawer or file cabinet.
“Now that I think of it...” the priest continued. “... I should come and do a spiritual cleansing of the house and cane fields. Your grandfather had a forceful and vibrant soul that may not rest without intervention. I developed an uneasy feeling during the funeral―a foreboding that Lucien did not go gently.”
Eva slipped the key into her pocket. “It’s hard for me to believe in lost souls. To me it seems a superstition of the church.”
Father Renaud smiled wanly and shook his head. “You are unable to believe in manifestations that make you uncomfortable, because your faith is based in fear of the unknown.”
“Maybe so,” she replied. “Yet I respect your beliefs nonetheless...as I respect you.”
Father Renaud looked at Eva as if seeing her for the first time—as if realizing the sensitive child had morphed into a strong-willed young woman, and it made him feel fear for her without knowing why. “Of whatever faith you are, Eva, I hope to be a comfort to you and Adele. I hope you will call on me if you need me. May I remind you to visit your mother when you can?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver cross on a chain. He thrust it into her hand, before she found the words to object. “Keep this near you at all times. It is for your protection, whether you believe in its power or not. Godspeed, and goodbye.”
He turned stiffly, shoulders bowed under the weight of his devotion to duty. The stark light of the moon accentuated the sharp peaks and hollows of his profile, making him look ancient and spent. “One more thing...”
“Yes, Father ?”
“Whatever you find in some Pandora’s box of revelations, know that your grandfather made an attempt to give me his confession. Know that he never wanted those secrets to be exposed.”
“I owe him respect for taking me in and raising me. If there's something I need not share, then so be it, but it's left to me to make the decision.”
Renaud nodded slowly and shuffled toward his car; she walked with him, knowing intuitively there was more he wished to say. He stopped and turned. “You are a product not only of Lucien's genes but the training you received in his house. Your grandfather was an unrelenting man who, in part, did you a disservice, even as he took you in and fed and clothed you. A good deed born of duty, without love, is like soup without savor. It gives sustenance without satisfaction. Whatever has been done to you, whatever lack of love you feel, I sense in you a good spirit as yet unformed. Follow the voice of that spirit.”
“I promise to try.”
Eva bade Father Renaud farewell and re-entered the hallowed grounds of Lucien's office, armed with the key to all its secrets. She tried to unlock the file storage locker without luck, and then she came to the tall metal file cabinet. The key turned, and the cabinet opened. Inside lay a year's worth of paperwork―paid and unpaid bills and expired contracts. Then, hidden beneath, she found something she knew Lucien had not time to destroy, once he had the stroke. There were several manila envelopes filled with canceled checks written to the same person beginning in 1966.
The recipient's name was Mai Quan. Lucien had paid millions to the mystery woman, who by the sound of her name, was of Vietnamese descent. The last and largest amount had been paid just before his death. Her address was nowhere to be found. Who was she, and why had Lucien supported her over the course of nearly fifty years? Had Grandmama Esther gone to her grave never knowing about her― or worse yet, knowing and enduring her pain in silence?
What a burden, Lucien. What a burden I have inherited.
With each new discovery, it became clear that her grandfather had been treading water to stay afloat in a sea of debt. Outside of a few assets, like the shrimp boat Destiny, the estate had gone into the red sometime ago. Yet the checks to the woman continued to the end of his life.
No wonder you always insisted on doing your own accounting, old man!
Lucien Lejeune had kept just enough in his business account to pay employees and was using credit cards to buy supplies. She would be forced to transfer money from the household account to cover checks she had just written. Why had the family lawyer Malcolm Bertrand not disclosed the sad state of affairs ? Had her grandfather somehow managed to hide everything, even from him? Before the night was over, she found a partial answer, the tip of the iceberg, in the bottom of a file cabinet. Lucien had kept double books.
Why Grandpapa? What was this woman to you that you would risk everything ?
She jumped at the sound of the heirloom clock as it bonged twelve times. She felt weariness creep into her bones to rob her of strength. Her heart missed a beat when she found a recently postmarked envelope from Bayou Shadows. With trembling fingers she unfolded the letter tucked inside. It stated that if the balance owed on the care and treatment of Adele Lejeune could not be paid in full within ninety days, “the patient” would be transferred to the county facility.
Oh, Mama, if only you were well enough, strong enough of mind, to tell me what you need me to do.
Adele could not direct her own steps, much less her daughter's. On the contrary, her mother seldom knew what day it was or where she was. Eva pictured her mother cringing in a crowded psychiatric ward, mistreated by orderlies and frightened by the criminally insane. She vowed then that she would pay off all loans and unpaid bills and return the farm to its former glory. Most importantly, she could then afford to hire a full time nurse, and Adele could live at Winderlee. There was only one thing she needed―business advice from someone other than Aunt Nadine and the cousins. She needed an expert.
Three months. You have three months to save your mother.
With a quick intake of breath she fished Gabriel's business card from the wastepaper basket where she had impetuously thrown it just hours ago. She looked at it again, but this time, she paid attention to every word: Martin's Agricultural Services: crop dusting, fertilizing, hydro-seeding, profit analysis and advice. The business number and address were local. The man from Texas had his business right there in Vermilion Bay. That curious situation began to nag at her. Why had he come there, of all places? Was he escaping something? Yet what did she need to know about him except that he could do the job?
The words on the card rolled over in her mind―crop profit analysis and advice. She imagined the farm green and lush, returned to its former splendor. She had to find a way to hire the man. She could then bring her mother home and keep her safe for the rest of her life. Whether she liked Gabriel Martin personally or not, he had the experience she lacked.
There was one more matter, and the resolution lay hidden in that very room. Her duty, as she saw it, was to find the truth about Mai Quan from Lucien’s personal photographs that he kept in a file of its own. Some day, when she was ready, she would attempt to find the woman upon whom her grandfather had squandered a fortune. How could that love or infatuation, or whatever it might be, cause a man risk losing his business and a faithful wife? What was it she did not understand about passion and romance? If those emotions caused such destruction, as had also been the case in her parents' marriage, then she wanted no part of it. One last question entered her mind. Had the payments to this woma
n been love inspired or payoff for secrets kept?
Eva's mind tilted like a child's top winding down from a frenzied spin. She laid her head on the desktop and closed her aching eyes. When she at last raised her head, she found herself staring at three talismen lying equidistant on the desk, as if arranged by an unseen hand: Gabriel Martin's business card, Father Renaud's cross, and her grandfather's key.
2
“Look at her side, Gabe. You moved off to God-forsaken Louisiana boondocks, when you should have stayed right here where your boy lives.”
Jim Blackwood, attorney at law, sipped a cool one from the rooftop patio of the Iron Cactus, downtown Austin. “There's something called disrupting the status-quo. The argument will be that a nine year old boy is better off with the parent in whose household he's lived the majority of the time―rather than with an absentee parent in an unfamiliar environment.”
“Good lord. Absentee parent you called me? Listen, Janet kept me from seeing Sam by moving around and not letting me know where! I had to beg my mother-in-law, more than once, to tell me where they were. Austin's just big enough to find a place to hide.”
Blackwood shrugged. “Things like that happen all the time. Still, the mother usually has the upper hand unless she's unfit. The question will be why did you buy a business in Louisiana and then move there, when you had customers right here in Texas? It's not wrong, but it just doesn't look like you're trying to be a permanent fixture in the boy's life.”
Gabe pushed away a half eaten plate of Tex-Mex and stared up at gathering clouds. His stomach felt queasy, as it usually did when his nerves got the better of him. “Let me see if I can explain a complicated situation. Every move I've made has been for the sake of my marriage...but mostly for Sam. The boy needs his dad.”
“I'm not following you. Where's the connection between the statement you just made and your leaving the state?”
“Janet said that she wanted to start fresh, out of sight of the other man...to break it off clean and never lay eyes on him again. At just the right time, a buddy from Texas A&M days wanted to sell his crop dusting business at Vermilion Bay. I put all my money into it, because Janet promised she and Sam would follow when I got situated.”
“You actually believed her?”
“I know. I was stupid. She got me out of the way, sent the divorce papers certified mail. Then she and the scumbag took up where they left off. It wasn’t entirely for her that I did what I did. It was for Sam, and I still intend to bring him to Vermilion Bay to live with me. All I need is one major, ongoing job. There's lots of work there―sugarcane, rice, soybeans. There has to be at least one customer with a large farm who could set me up with permanent work.”
“Don’t you think it might be a culture shock for the boy to go to live among those crazy Cajuns? It's like a foreign country over there, what with the French dialect that most of us can't understand, and the weird superstitions. To top it off, there's the iron hand of the Catholic church. You sure being there is in the boy's best interest?”
“Of course I'm sure. He's okay as long as he's with me! Would I not want what's best for my own son? You got it all wrong. The people there are good as gold...just a little quaint, that's all.”
“What about his situation at home?”
“Not too good. Janet moved the boyfriend in even before we got the divorce decree.”
Blackwood hooted in amazement. “As unsavory as that may be, she'll get by with it.”
“The point is, this guy doesn’t particularly like my son. Sam reminds him of me, and the boy can feel his disapproval, even though he pretends to be happy when he's around his mother. She's so wrapped up in this guy, she can't see what's right in front of her nose!”
“Do you still love her?”
“I care about her well-being. I'll bet you hear that cliche from clients all the time.”
“You'd be surprised how many don't care, and with less reason than you have. I have to say you're a decent man.”
“I fall short, believe me, but I never broke my wedding vows.”
“Think you'll remarry?”
“No. I've learned my lesson. No woman alive can rope and hogtie this ol' boy.”
“Now I've heard that one dozens of times.”
The conversation was interrupted by the ring tone from Gabe's cell phone. He didn't recognize the number, except for the area code in Iberia Parish. When he answered, he was surprised to hear Eva’s voice : “Mr. Martin, I need your help. Winderlee's in trouble.”
Gabe bolted straight up in the chair. “Eva Lejeune?”
“Yes, it is I.”
“What can I do for you...for Winderlee?”
“I'd rather not discuss it over the phone. Can we talk in person?”
“When exactly? I'm in Austin taking care of some personal business.”
“Soon as possible. I need your help with the sugar cane farm…your advice and supervision at the very least. You're not going to make me beg, are you?”
“I can't imagine you ever begging or me allowing it. I'll be landing there this evening. Should I meet you at your house?”
“Close by. I'll be at the Shrimp Festival at the fairgrounds.”
“Want to talk there, when you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. I was going to ask you to come out, any way.”
“You were?”
“Things get going at seven. I'll see you when you get here.”
Gabe stood with the cell phone in his hand and a dazed look on his face. ”I think I may have found a way to pay for the custody case.”
Blackwood was already on his feet, briefcase in hand. “Good to hear. Any involvement with this woman beyond work?”
“Nope. Not my type. This is strictly business.”
“Hope it works out for you, Gabe. I’ll get the ball rolling. Make yourself lots of money before we go to court. You're going to need it. Now get in that plane of yours. Vermillion Bay awaits you.”
3
Gabriel Martin flew his Cessna on a southeasterly course from the Texas hill country to the lazy rivers and towering pines to the east. As he passed over, white-tailed deer raced for the thickets, and squirrels fussed from their perches in ancient oaks. In a short time, he had flown across the Sabine River and into southwest Louisiana. He brought his plane down to the landing strip next to the ranch style house he called home. Rambo jumped to greet him as soon as he came through the door, and together they took a quick run.
Fresh out of the shower, he reached into the dresser for his usual khaki cargo shorts but changed his mind and pulled a white western dress shirt and his best jeans out of the closet. He partially dried his hair with a tousle of his fingers, hopped in his Chevy truck and raced toward the fairgrounds. He passed the Winderlee house and on to an open pasture where a bandstand stood. In the outdoor kitchen, huge pots of red beans and rice simmered on cook tops, and red-fish and boudin sausage steamed in the smokers.
Eva was now making her way through the crowd. He tried not to stare, but there was a change in her compared to the day in the cane field. She had replaced the rumpled shorts and oversized tee with a floaty cotton summer dress that was sheer enough to catch a capricious gulf breeze―and any man's eye as well. Her hair, which she usually wore in a long braid, was now loose and flowing and caught at the back with a single rose. Steady, he told himself.
“Hello Miss Lejeune.” He sounded more stilted than he had intended.
At the same moment, a middle-aged Vietnamese man approached her. “Will you need more shrimp for the boil pots?”
“Oh yes. They're going fast. Thanks.”
The man turned toward the canal where the boats were docked and nodded at Gabe in passing.
“Friend of yours?” Gabe asked.
“Not actually. Part of our Destiny crew. He's like lots of other Vietnamese in this part of the state. They work the boats and rice bogs like they do in their home country. He's a bit standoffish but hardworking. There’s something different about
him, but I can’t quite decide what it is.”
They looked toward the dock and watched the man as he went to the task at hand, his wiry arms shoveling the squirming crustaceans from the trawler floor.
“I suppose I've really never known him,” she added. “The fishermen just call him 'Jace’.”
She grew thoughtful, as if something curious had crossed her mind. Gabe found himself wanting to read her like a book whose bright and colorful cover gave no hint as to the content.
She turned to him, eyes bright with intensity : “Back to the reason I called you—I need your help, Mr. Martin.”
“I'll do what I can, but there's no need to be so formal. I'm only thirty-four, after all. It's time you called me Gabe.”
“Does this mean we’re friends?”
“We could be, if you'd let down the drawbridge for your humble servant.”
“Alright Gabe. I want to talk to you about managing the business. Confidentially, I need to get Winderlee out of the hole dug by Grandpapa. Not all of the problem has to do with production either. Most of his available cash was given to someone unknown to the rest of the family, without our knowledge...but that’s a personal matter, and now I've spoken out of turn.”
“It goes no further, and besides, the man's dead.”
“Still, it's private information. If the farm is to survive, we have to improve on what we did last season. Destiny provides income from shrimp and will keep us afloat for some time to come. If you can get the farm out of the red and into the black, you can almost name your fee within reason.”
Ahhh. Bingo, he thought.
“I'm your man. You can pay me when I get the place back to normal, but I have to warn you, I'm in it for the money and nothing else.”
“Nothing else it will be.” She offered an almost seductive smile that told him she was well aware of her effect on him. Despite her usual caution, she nodded in the direction of the music, where Nadine had commandeered a mustachioed partner from an offshore oil rig. Nadine called out, as the roughneck swirled her away. “Glad you decided to come, Gabe. Making peace with Eva?”
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