Sweet Surrender

by Jeanie Freeman-Harper

  Renaud's voice faltered. “I've become weak.”

  “You should have a little more respect. It takes a person like me to see how things really are. You're much too insulated in your little bubble. You’re losing your grip on your parish, and you can't protect your sheep. In fact, forget we had this conversation, or that you even saw me.”

  Father Renaud slammed down the phone and slumped into his chair. His chest felt tight and his breath came short. “Marcela, please bring me my pill,” he called out.

  The housekeeper rushed in with a glass of water and his heart medicine, then shook her head at the sight of the cold breakfast. “Shall I warm up your eggs Father ?”

  “No I think not, Marcela. I’m a bit nauseous this morning.”

  10

  Alex Lejeune had gone through most of the money he had made in the timber business in the Yukon. With what he had left, he bought a stripped-down ‘89 Ford pickup that was badly in need of a paint job. New and flashy would have been his preference, and he cursed his father daily for leaving him nothing. Almost broke, he was forced to take a job as fry cook at the Pink Pelican Grill. Behind the scenes he was unlikely to draw attention. The owner even paid him in cash as he requested, and with his first paycheck he took a room at Deville Place, an old motel turned into efficiency apartments.

  Sometimes when Alex drove back to his room, an uninvited passenger rode with him. “Rider” he came to call him. Something about the nebulous, silent form riding beside him was comforting, even including the faint aroma of pipe tobacco. It jogged some long ago memory, but he had all but forgotten exactly what it was. He became convinced his truck was haunted, otherwise he would have to believe himself insane.

  One busy lunch time, Father Renaud showed up at the grill. From the kitchen, Alex saw him being seated and the waitress leaning in as he whispered something to her.

  “Hey, Cookie! You got a fella here wants to see ya,” she yelled. “A man of the cloth no less, so watch the foul language.”

  Alex called “Order up” on a breakfast plate and went to the priest’s table, where lay a large manila envelope with the words “Lucien to Malcolm” scrawled on it. Renaud gestured for Alex to be seated across from him. “After our unsettling phone conversation, I decided I'd came to look you in the eye and appeal to your sense of decency.”

  “I have none. Now, how did you know how to find me?”

  “Marcela was certain she saw you enter the back door to the grill a few days ago on her way back from shopping. The woman doesn't miss a thing and never forgets a face—no matter how much time has passed.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I’ve come to plead with you to leave town. Disappear. You did it before, and you can do it again. There's nothing left for you in Vermilion Bay. You’re looking for trouble, else you would have announced your return.”

  “What's it to you—a priest's sense of moral duty?”

  “That and more. I am, for lack of a better word, godfather to Eva through promises made to your father. Even though she’s grown, I still try to look out for her. Lucien wanted it that way.”

  “Papa has no say from the grave.”

  “Don’t be so sure. A man as strong as he never lets go. I've said what I came to say, and I must be on my way to file this paperwork.”

  Father Renaud reached for the envelope, but before he had it within his grasp, Alex slid it toward his side of the table. “Why do I have a feeling there is something in here I need to know?”

  “Leave it alone, Alex. It’s not for you.”

  Alex opened and read a codicil to a Lucien’s will that left the shrimp boat Destiny to one Jacques Quan. Attached to the will was an original 1968 birth certificate listing the man’s parents as Mai Quan and Lucien Lejeune. The document was witnessed by two citizens of Vermilion Bay, and it was notarized.

  Alex’s face went white. “Where did this come from?”

  “Marcela found it. The envelope had fallen behind the credenza. There’s always a pile of mail on top, but this had gotten lost in the shuffle.”

  “My father didn't even give this person his name, yet he decided to give him Destiny? That boat was mine! Where exactly is this illegitimate spawn? ”

  “I know of no one by that name, and over half the fisherman's village bear the last name of Quan. You know the Vietnamese are close-mouthed. Even if knew who he was, I wouldn’t be free to discuss it with anyone. This belongs in the hands of Malcolm Bertrand. Let him find the man. I’m sorry Alex, but this is a legal matter.”

  “Ah, but It’s a personal matter to me. You could’ve left that envelope in the car, but you brought it out in plain sight—even though you make an objection to my opening it.”

  Stunned at the raw truth in those words, Renaud snatched back the paperwork. “You say Lucien has no more control from the grave? I beg to differ with you. If you think he no longer calls the shots, you’re dead wrong. There’s nothing left for you here, not even family ties. You lost your place twenty years ago when you walked out.”

  The other diners looked toward their table with open curiosity, and Alex leaned in toward Renaud and whispered through clenched teeth. “Just because you set yourself up to be a man of God, does not make you invincible. You’re just a man and not much of one at that. I will leave when I am ready to leave, and you have nothing to say about it. Do we understand each other?”

  “How could the ordinary kid I remember turn out so damaged? You’ve been touched by evil so deep I can almost reach out and touch it. If you do anything foolish, you will pay for it whether here or on the other side.” Renaud tucked the envelope under his arm, tossed a couple of dollars on the table and walked out.

  As he drove, he asked himself what exactly had possessed him to place that explosive document in the path of one already unhinged. It was as if he had done so against his will.

  11

  Eva curled up in her grandfather's leather chair and nibbled at one of the spice cookies Colette baked obsessively since quitting cigarettes. Gabriel was at the desk acquainting himself with the names of the field workers and fishing crew, and when he came to one name his brow furrowed. “I can place every name to the person...except one. I have several Quans. Half the people in the village have that last name. All of them have traditional Vietnamese first names except one. His name is Jacques Quan. Odd combination with the classic French first name. His paycheck is direct deposited into a joint account with Mai Quan. Did she even mention to you that she had a husband or son?”

  “No, and I’ve wondered about it. Jacques...Jace...has to be one in the same.”

  “I'll see what I can find out, but I’m not sure we even need to know. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone researching his background or parentage. I try to respect the right to privacy.”

  A half formed thought hit Eva like a freight train. “I need to know, Gabe, for personal reasons.”

  The conversation was placed on hold as Colette shambled into the office wearing run down slippers and wrinkled apron, both of which were uncharacteristic. She had come bearing more cookies fresh from the oven, as an offering of atonement. Eva gently pushed away the second plate of cookies. “Thanks, but we still have plenty. I guess that marathon baking helps kick the nicotine craving, now that you’ve given up smoking.”

  Colette burst into tears. “God knows I’ve tried, but some old diable gets in my head, and I give in to temptation. But I swear to you in the name of the Holy Trinity, I’ve not gone into those cane fields since the fire!”

  “You don’t have to swear on anything. I believe you. Just keep trying to quit for your health's sake. If you can't, then so be it. We all have at least one thing in our lives we can't let go of.”

  Colette stood with mouth working silently, as if words could not get past the lump in her throat.

  “What is it, Colette? What is it you need to tell me?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you, except to come right out and say it. I'm going back to Big Mamou.
I can't stay here and take your hard earned money, when it was me who ruined your business. Jasper doesn't want to go with me.”

  “You didn’t exactly ruin it. It would have been worse if the entire crop had burned. Gabe assures me the remaining acres will come in blemish free with lots of sugar and high yield.”

  “Even so, Nadine hates me. I think she put gris-gris on me. Sorciere!”

  Gabe looked up from his paperwork. “This ol' Texas boy got the gist of that.”

  Eva was not buying it. “No one puts spells on anyone any more...even in Acadiana. Auntie’s not in charge here, so you can stay on as long as you like. I would fight the Devil himself on your behalf.”

  Colette brought her apron up to catch free flowing tears. “I've caused enough grief as it is. I won't have you and your auntie arguing because of me.”

  Gabe stared past them both to Nadine and Jasper who had come to stand stone-faced just inside the door. “If you’re going to stand there listening, you might as well come in. Do either of you have anything to say—especially you Jasper, as Colette's husband?”

  Nadine, ever first to speak her mind, no matter how ill conceived the words, dove in ahead of Jasper. “He doesn't want to say, but Colette would be happier back with her family. You can get another housekeeper, but Jasper is indispensable.”

  Eva rose to confront her. “Let him speak for himself, Auntie.”

  Jasper flashed Eva a look and crossed his arms. “I'll stay on here. One of us has to be the breadwinner. She'll have to stay with her mama or one of our kids, and I'll send her money.”

  Gabe shook his head in wonder. “This is the most idiotic thing I ever heard. Eva has forgiven her. Everyone should just let it go. I’m waiting for the report from the investigator. We may look at things differently after that.”

  Nadine jumped in once again. “My sweet niece is young and naive, at least where Colette is concerned. She thinks of her as a substitute mother. God knows Adele never was much of one. She popped Eva out and considered her job done. That woman had less maternal instinct than a cow.”

  Colette began to squall again, and by now her nostrils were red and raw from blowing her nose. “Poor Eva—all grown up and still in the middle of a tempete. I know it was all my fault, and I can never forgive myself.”

  Eva decided it was time to raise the question that had haunted her since the fire: “What if there’s an arsonist on the loose or...”

  “...or someone was vindictive because of contents of a will?” Gabe added.

  Nadine straightened to her full height. “You can't be referring to me. I admit I don't like it that I didn't get a bigger piece of the pie, but I did get something. There's only one person you could be referring to, but you can exclude Alex as well. He hasn’t been seen in over twenty years. Alex is dead. No one but Colette lit up that field. I’m telling you she's reckless and irresponsible.”

  Gabe was not convinced “You're closing your mind to any other possibility, because you want to blame her. What is it about this woman you could possibly dislike? There has to be something you’re not telling us.”

  Colette began to shake uncontrollably. “I will tell you! Nadine goes to visit the Creole vielle fille who lives on the island in the middle of the bay. The woman makes evil mojos for money. Someone saw Nadine enter her house!”

  The room grew deathly quiet, and all eyes turned to Nadine who simply smiled. “Mistaken identity no doubt. Colette. You really need to get away from here if you believe that.”

  12

  Just when Eva needed her most, the disgraced icon of Winderlee packed her bags and bought a one-way bus ticket to Big Mamou—the place of smoky dives, French accordion players and gator hunters.

  Eva faced the inevitable. She had lost Grandmama Esther and now Colette. Once again, she was a small sailboat in the middle of a stormy sea. “If you change your mind, call me,” she told Colette. “Remember you’ll always have a place with me.”

  “I will miss you, Cheri, but how can I come back when your auntie hates me? Even before the fire, I saw the change in her. She is of your blood, and I am not, and there lies the difference.”

  Jasper was nowhere in sight that day, so Gabe drove Colette to the bus station and wished her well. His heart was heavy as he had not as yet found the person who had lit up the cane fields.

  “Dieu vous benisse, Gabriel,” Colette had lapsed into the language that sometimes threw the plain-spoken Texan. “Ah yes, I forget to use English,” she said. “One more thing —be patient with Eva. She doesn’t yet know, but she needs a good man like you. I see how you look at her when you think she doesn’t see. She is a beauty, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “She needs a beaux, yes?”

  “No. I don’t think Eva would trust any man enough to surrender even a tiny part of her heart.”

  “Are you talking about just any man?” Colette’s question was punctuated with raised eyebrows in the manner of her old starchy self. She took the first step to board the bus but looked over her shoulder when Gabe called her name.

  “Just for your own peace of mind, I don't think it was your recklessness that caused the fire.”

  “I am sure you will figure it out. You are a good man. Goodbye Mr. Martin.”

  ***

  So it was that Colette Landry was the first domino in line. Without the longtime housekeeper’s presence, all sense of order turned to chaos, forcing Eva to bring someone into her home to help with her mother. Events began to line up like dominoes set on end.

  It all began within a week of Colette's departure, when the director at Bayou Shadows contacted an unprepared Eva to come and pick up her mother. Eva would have been happy enough had she still had her housekeeper and dear friend to fall back on. There was the balance on the facility's bill, and they would wait no longer—even with harvest less than a month away. Eva visualized the nurse who had tended to her mother. With the woman's irritability, she had no doubt given up on Adele and had written an evaluation report for her release, skewed or otherwise.

  Adele Lejeune came home. With no housekeeper, Eva took on much of the housework. She cooked a daily meal for Adele, Gabe and Jasper, and oftentimes Nadine or a stray cousin here and there. Grandmama Esther had taught Eva how to make the jambalaya, crawfish bisque and seafood gumbo, and it came back to her with practice. Gabriel would come in from the fields to look over her shoulder, mercilessly teasing her about “practicing to snare a husband.”

  One day, she’d had enough. “What in God’s name would I do with a husband?” she snapped, pushing an errant curl from her face as she stirred the roux with more force than was needed.

  Gabe chuckled happily, knowing he had hit his mark, and then he went to her aid by playing sous chef and setting the table, with Rambo following his every step.

  Eva struggled on, maintaining the house and keeping the books until cash flow improved. She could barely manage her mother as well. She began to resent Aunt Nadine and Jasper for their treatment of Colette. Had they been less harsh and more understanding, that quirky but indispensable friend would still be there.

  Eva had finally come to a crossroad. “Auntie, can you pick up just a little slack with Mama?”

  Nadine took out her compact and checked her lipstick in a show of disinterest. “My age is not conducive to tending to a loony woman such as Adele.”

  “Your age doesn’t seem to slow you down when you go out dancing with that roughneck.”

  Unperturbed, Nadine inspected her freshly polished nails. “My Lord, you are a stickler. Place an ad, Eva Marie. Get the woman a real nurse while you’re at it.”

  Left with no other choice, Eva placed a notice in the Morning Courier. She was stunned when Mai Quan answered the ad by showing up at the front door in her usual Vietnamese fashion, resume in hand. “I am here to apply for the position of part time nurse and companion. You may recall I was a practicing registered nurse in the home country.”

  “What about the flower shop? Who will ru
n it?”

  “My mother has offered to manage it on the days I am here, and I, in return, will give her a portion of what you pay me. She is old and feeble, but the work is very light. One of the young men in the village will handle the harder labor, and I can still do the arrangements. Business is slow any way. Will you trust me with only references from the hospital in Saigon?”

  Although life had taught her the danger of total trust, Eva needed the help, and there had been no other applicants. She studied the immaculate and sinewy woman before her and made a snap decision she prayed she would not regret. “You may start tomorrow, but I must tell you, my mother is demanding at times. You will more than earn your pay, and I have little to give you until harvestime.”

  So the woman who would be next domino in line, came into the house. Adele began leaning on Mai, who would bring her fresh flowers from the shop and take her for rides in the evening. It became a pleasant routine for both, and Adele thrived. The two women were friendly on the very first day, and Eva thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in her mother's eyes. “You two act as if you've known each other for years, Mama.”

  The doll eyes blinked and came to life. “Oh yes, I know her.”

  “Care to tell me exactly how you know her?” Eva asked, as offhandedly as possible.

  Adele’s eyes glazed over. “Someday. I will tell you someday.”

  Without the injections and pills, Adele had a near miraculous transformation, slowly changing from spacey to coherent. The bloating and paleness subsided, and her hair grew in thick and shiny. The more alert Adele became, the more difficult she was to handle. The nurse at Bayou Shadows had been partially right. She still required psychological counseling, but at least she knew who she was and where she was. The only person Adele never crossed was Mai. To Eva it seemed a match made in Heaven.