“More truce than surrender,” he quipped.
Eva stiffened slightly in his arms, and he held her gingerly, his hand barely touching the small of her back, as if she were a China doll that might shatter at the slightest pressure. He let down his guard long enough for her to guide him into the unfamiliar Zydeco rhythms, until they moved as one unit. He was smart enough to know when he was out of his element; there was a time to lead and a time to follow.
The whine of the fiddles and the twang of the accordions slowed to a graceful waltz from the Nova Scotia ancestry. The crowd visibly relaxed as the lilting sound engulfed the perimeter of Winderlee and wound its way to the boats on the canal. There, the bare chested fishermen shuffled their feet in a fantasy dance with imaginary gaiennes, amid teasing and laughter.
One resolute man continued to unload the shrimp, arms moving rhythmically, brow cooling above the giant vats of shaved ice. The music was only part of his heritage. The childhood memory of the lute and zither had faded, until he could barely recall the haunting sounds of his homeland. What then was this to him? Even so, the man they called Jace set soft brown eyes on Gabriel and Eva and watched their every move.
4
By early Fall, the cane was high as a man was tall. With the farm in Gabriel Martin's hands, Eva took time off to go through Lucien’s private collection of photographs. One evening, she sat on the office rug lining out photos from the cabinet, and what she saw surprised her. The first photo was of Lucien in a naval officer's uniform standing in front of an aircraft carrier, surrounded by sailors. The caption at the bottom read “San Diego, in route to South China Sea.” Lucien looked serious and proud as a young fighter pilot serving his country.
There were many more Polaroid pictures, one of which featured a young woman with porcelain skin, tiny rosebud mouth and slightly slanted eyes. The girl appeared to be under five feet tall and slender. Beside her was Lucien, as Eva had never seen the man she had known as her grandfather: tall and lean and youthful. The caption read “Mai and me on shore leave, Honolulu.” She could not make out the date on the border, but it had been taken obviously mid-sixties.
It seemed strange to see her stern and taciturn grandfather as a young man with such a petite and delicate beauty. All Eva had known of him was the unyielding elitist whom Nadine had labeled “prejudiced” against the seventies influx of Vietnamese into Louisiana. Yet he had hired them from time to time, for their homeland experience in growing rice and sugarcane and trawling the inlets of the South China Sea. The Gulf Coast of Louisiana was a natural habitat for them. Yet with all his bias, Lucien had apparently been intimately involved with one of their own.
Then in a flash the thought came. What if Mai is alive? What if Lucien brought her to live right here in Vermilion Bay?
***
Eva set out on her mission to the community of Vietnamese Americans who lived in fisherman shacks at the other end of the bay. Teenage boys who stood outside the game rooms and cafes and watched her as she got out of the jeep and looked around. She nodded and smiled at them, but they did not return her cordiality. She walked past huts that smelled of fish and meat spiced with curry and tamarind and open fish markets where women chattered in their high pitched and choppy native tongue.
An elderly woman who sat on the front steps of a small cottage watched Eva's every move. The woman’s face was wizened, and her teeth were reddish black from the chewing of areca nuts, but the kindness in her eyes prompted Eva to stop. “Can you tell me...do you know someone by the name of Mai Quan?”
She shook her head violently. “No. No one. Not here.”
Eva saw the truth in her eyes rather than her words. She spotted a small tidy cottage with hand painted flowers on its exterior walls. Above the door was a sign that read Mai's Old Saigon Flower Shop. She walked to the front door but paused when someone within slammed down the bamboo blinds. A “closed” sign suddenly appeared on the door. The hair at the nape of her neck prickled, knowing she was being followed by the same young men who watched her arrive. Still, she tapped on the door insistently, until it creaked open. She peered inside to see a tiny exotic woman in her mid-sixties.
“Are you Mai Quan?”
The woman nodded and sighed. “So you have finally come.” She stepped aside to allow entry into an immaculate living room decorated with the jewel-like wall hangings and minimal furnishings of the Orient. Beyond, in the next room, hundreds of exotic flowers were displayed in a wall to ceiling glass case.
“You must be his granddaughter, Eva Marie,” the woman said. “I knew this day would come.” Then the woman’s voice softened as she inspected Eva's face. “You are as pretty as I expected you to be. You have the Acadian coloring, yet your cheekbones and the shape of your eyes are quite different.”
Mai Quan motioned for Eva to be seated before raising the shades to allow the brilliant sunlight that flooded the woman’s still elegant features. She moved gracefully toward Eva in the traditional Vietnamese loose pants and tunic. “I know of Lucien's death. Have you come for any other reason?”
“Curiosity is part of it, but I've come to give you what should belong to you.”
Eva handed Mai the shoebox of photographs. “I want you to take these. They belong with you. My grandfather took care of you for forty years, almost sacrificing Winderlee for you, and whatever you have come to expect, now comes to an end. I’m sorry, but I have to save the business. Surely you will be able to manage with your income from your shop here.”
Mai knocked the box from her hand. “Seeing that you obviously believe me to be a kept mistress, I want nothing from you! Everything I wanted died with him. What I had with the man can not be taken from me, because I carry it here.” Mai placed a delicate hand against her heart. “Can you understand ? You are young, but not so young that you have not yet tasted love.”
“Love? Is that what you call your liaison with my grandfather?”
“You are like him, you know? You appear cold in your effort to hide emotion. Yet there must be a softer side. There is more than Lejeune blood running through your veins.”
“If I am like him, it’s because he raised me...he and my grandmother Esther, his wife. Did you know about her?”
“When I met him, there was no wife. If I give you the truth, will you promise to honor my privacy?”
“That I can promise. First, tell me how you came to speak perfect English?”
Mai pointed to a silk covered floor pillow. “Sit.”
Eva did as she was told, and Mai seated herself on a bamboo mat. “I learned English as a second language, along with French as a third. My father was a translator at the embassy in Saigon. Since we were once occupied by France, it was fitting to study their language. It was one of the common bonds between Lucien and me that we spoke classic French together. He mastered the authentic language beyond the Louisiana colloquialism of the Cajuns.”
“When did you meet?”
“I met him during the Vietnam War in 1967, when he was with the Seventh Fleet in the Gulf of Tonkin. I worked as a hospital nurse in Saigon before it became known as Ho Chi Min City. We shared a table at a crowded tea shop when he was on shore leave.” Mai smiled upon seeing Eva's wide eyed surprise. “Yes, a tea shop. Did you expect me to be a bar girl?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Not an unusual assumption. Most of the city girls hung out in bad places. It was not the way it was with your grandfather and me. We ‘fell in-love’, as Americans call it, but the Navy shipped him back to San Diego after his leave ended. He had to leave me in Vietnam until the paperwork came through.”
“The woman sitting outside is your mother, isn't she?”
“Yes, Lucien was able to bring us both out eventually―after his military service was finished and after much red tape. But I am getting ahead of the story.”
Mai took a teapot off a nearby table, poured herself a bowl of fragrant tea and offered the same to her guest. Eva waived the offer in her need to get on
with the rest of it. Sensing as much, Mai continued. “The Lejeunes were shocked when your grandfather told them he wanted to bring me to America and marry me. They were devout Catholics, and I was a Buddhist. The two religions are like oil and water, and his parents expected him to marry one of his own kind.”
“So he asked for acceptance?”
“Knowing your grandfather, would you expect less? Lucien asked Father Renaud to bless our impending marriage, and he refused. The priest was young then and idealistic. At that point, Lucien had to choose between his church and his parents...or me. He made the only choice he felt he could. I did not hear from him for several years. Then his conscience got the better of him, and he made the journey back to find me. He restarted the paperwork to bring us to Vermilion Bay. That entire time he was wracked with guilt, because by then he and Esther had two children. There’s nothing more I care to talk about right now.”
“But someday?”
“I see no good in it. There are secrets your grandfather took to his grave.”
“Did you and he have a relationship after he brought you here?”
“We avoided each other all these years. What was between us happened in Saigon before he married.”
“I understand now. This is not at all what I expected. But Grandpapa continued, for forty years, to send you all the money he could. What possessed him to carry it to that extreme?”
Mai gave Eva a blank wall look. “Do you not understand that guilt is stronger than love or money or pride? In his act of contrition, he gave more than he should have. But I never squandered the money.”
“But you refuse to tell me how all of it was used.”
“Yes. I will say it went where it was meant to go.”
With that, the gates of communication slammed shut. Mai, in a mea culpa, began sorting through the photographs scattered on the floor, rocking back and forth on her heels, whispering brokenly. “I will treasure these memories, until I draw my last breath.”
An emotion past pity touched Eva's heart. She knew what it was to yearn for unattainable love. Had she not witnessed it in parents whose love for each other poisoned them both and crippled her emotionally? Had she herself not felt the sting of rejection?
“I never should have made assumptions, Miss Quan. I'll go now and leave you alone. If you need anything at all, I'm at Winderlee on the bay―at the other end of the canal.”
Mai looked up at Eva as a shadow of sadness crossed her delicate features. “I know where Winderlee is. I know where the rich and powerful live. So many times I passed by, and I wondered what it would have been like to...”
“...to be the mistress of Winderlee? Maybe soon I can answer that question for you, but I don't expect it to be anything more than a burden right now.”
Mai stood slowly, as if the battle between two cultures and past and present had made her weary. “If you'll pardon me, I need to reopen the shop.”
“I sense there is something more. What is it you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing more. Whatever you need to know, you will have to find out on your own. Ask your mother. I had rather it come from her. Now if you'll excuse me...”
“My mother?”
“Yes. It is Adele’s place to tell you.”
“You know my mother.”
Mai returned Eva's questioning gaze with an unfathomable expression. “Yes, I know her. Take care until we meet again.”
***
As Eva left the flower shop, the same group of youths stared her down; she pushed her way past and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the jeep. As she sped away, her head swirled with thoughts of her grandfather and the woman she now knew had been more than a shore leave fling. Even so, Mai would never be accepted by Nadine and the rest of the family. Even Colette would label the woman bonne a rienne, as she so often called loose women. There was much more to the story, and Adele held the key.
On the way to Winderlee, Eva stopped at the bay to savor the sunset in its golden splash across blue sky and water. That time of the day always changed her perspective. Still, an uneasiness settled in, as a sudden brisk breeze chilled her to the bone. She was stunned to realize she had unconsciously removed Father Renaud's cross and chain from her rear view mirror and had clutched the metal cross so tightly that it had drawn blood.
She was horrified to hear Lucien's voice behind her. Tread lightly, and watch your step!
She turned slowly in all directions, heart pounding, praying that there was an explanation to the unworldly words of warning. Do not return to the village. Stay away.
She saw nothing but her own footprints. Now she had to know all of it. Her mother would have the answer, but getting it from her in her present state was another matter. It was time for a visit to the one place she hated above all others: Bayou Shadows.
5
“Be still, Adele. Do you hear me? I'm going to give you your shot now―just enough to take the edge off. If you fight, it will only make it harder for you.”
The door opened and out stepped a big-boned woman in spotless starched scrubs and iron-clad expression. “You can come in now, Miss Lejeune. She was clear as a bell this morning, but now she’s agitated and confused, so she's likely to say anything! You can't always believe what she says.”
“I didn't know you were giving my mother injections now.”
The nurse pursed her lips for a moment before answering. “Well, after all, we do have to keep her somewhat docile. She's been a handful lately. I expect the dosage to increase as her mania escalates―just so you know.”
“I think I need to talk with the doctor about her treatment.”
“Do as you please. It doesn't matter much. I expect she won't be at Bayou Shadows much longer any way.” The nurse turned her attention to pastry box Eva held in her hands. “Exactly what are you bringing in to her?”
“I’ve brought her favorite candy―pecan pralines. My housekeeper made them especially for her. Is there a problem?”
The nurse folded her arms against her chest and shook her head. “No, I guess not. Sugar does make her hyper.”
“Better than having her spaced out from over-medicating, wouldn't you say?”
“See for yourself. She will be calm for a few minutes, and then she'll be agitated again. Just you go in and see for yourself.”
More warden than nurse, the woman turned and marched down the corridor, but something told Eva she would be back to listen in behind the closed door.
She was stunned at the change in her mother's appearance since the last visit. Her hair was thin and brittle, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused like the doll she had as a little girl―the one with malfunctioning eyes that she kept in the back of her closet, because it frightened her. She attempted to hold Adele’s hand, but she pulled away and began rummaging through the pralines, picking up one and then the other, as if figuring out which one was worth having. Eva wondered how to broach the secret Mai Quan had intimated was connected to Adele.
After such a strained beginning, Eva directed her thoughts elsewhere. “Mama, I'm going to bring you home soon. I'm getting one of the bedrooms ready for you. Would you like that?”
“Maybe so. Maybe not,” Adele mumbled to the floor. Then, as she struggled through the effects of the medication, she jerked her head up with an audible intake of breath. “Has Alex come? Has he come with you? Where is he?”
“No, Mama. He won't be back. Don't you remember? He's out there somewhere in the Yukon. He left us over twenty years ago.”
“You lie! How can you say such a vile thing? Everyone’s keeping him from me. You all lie to me...even Father Renaud. Alex Lejeune would never leave me.” Then Adele’s eyes grew round and her breathing labored. “Oh, I know...someone told him, didn't they? Someone told him the truth.”
“What truth, Mama? Tell me.”
Now the doll eyes came to life with sparks of comprehension, and then just as quickly returned to the mannequin stare. The moment was gone. The sight was made all th
e more pathetic by the brown sugary remnants of candy that dribbled down Adele’s chin. Eva reached for a tissue but could not bring herself to wipe her mother's contorted face, as she raged on. “You let him come and get me, you hear me? It's the proper way to do things!”
“Proper? You speak to me of propriety? Was it proper for my father to abandon us? Was it proper for you to pile up in a drunken stupor when I was too little to take care of myself? What about the times in kindergarten when I showed up in dirty clothes, to be humiliated and ridiculed? And since when have you ever had any feelings for my father? You were vicious with each other.”
“I will not go with you.” She dropped the half eaten box of candy on the floor. “I don't know who you are. Don’t come any closer!”
Eva took two steps back. “Don't you know your own daughter? It is I, Eva Marie. Mama, what have they done to you? You’ve never been like this...never.”
Upon hearing raised voices, the nurse rushed in to place heavy hands on Eva's shoulders. “I'll have to ask you to leave. Your visit is making her erratic.”
Eva was repelled by the woman’s antiseptic smell and the unsightly mole just above the thin cruel mouth. “Your treatment of her is making her erratic. The medication you're giving is worse than the alcohol!”
The nurse folded her arms across her bosom and glared at Eva. “She was already gone before she got here. She’s better off in a county psych unit, and that's where she's going anyway, if the bill isn’t paid. I can promise you that.”
“I see gossip gets around fast. My financial standing with this place is between me and administration and no one else.”
“You have to face facts, Miss Lejeune. Your mother’s mind has gone beyond the point of return. Her earlier alcoholism only escalated an underlying mental problem. In other words, your mother is crazy as a loon.”
Sweet Surrender Page 3