Enigma of the Heart

by Wynette Davis

  “You can’t sit no better than that, son?” Lou Pearl asked him.

  “I’m tired,” DePaul said, running his hand over his balding head.

  “Doing what?” asked his sister Visalia. “Nothing? I didn’t think doing nothing could be so taxing on the body.”

  “I’ve been thinking.” DePaul scowled at his sister.

  “Well, I apologize, then,” Visalia said to him with a small smile. “You must be plum wore out.”

  “That’s better,” DePaul said not understanding the slight his sister had just given him.

  Lou Pearl only shook her head at her children. “Y’all stop.”

  DePaul was the second of Lou Pearl’s children. She doted on him, excusing his faults, which were many. If left to Visalia, she would say her mother did everything but wipe DePaul’s butt. Visalia was the eldest, named after Lou Pearl’s grandmother. She usually stopped by during the week on her way home to Mandeville for a quick visit with her mother. A quick visit. It was all Visalia could take most days. Andre had been the baby of the family. But of course they didn’t talk about Andre.

  Lou Pearl sat chewing on her gum, popping it, as she liked to do and fanning herself with the magazine in her hand. At seventy-four, she looked better than most women her age. She kept her hair dyed blonde as she had years before. She liked the style she wore it in, and hadn’t changed it since 1976. It was a short Bouffant. Maybe not the rage anymore, but she was known to do what she wanted, when she wanted.

  Visalia knew it was why her mother moved from Mandeville. It had been her home for all of her life, but she was convinced that she had to leave. Seeing the home that she felt was robbed from her only a few doors down was a slap in the face. She was going to get it back, she said continually. The judge that had ruled in the girl’s favor had been some tree-hugger from California, and in her mother’s opinion, he didn’t know jack-shit. The house was hers and she’d get it back in time.

  “Oh yeah,” Visalia said. “Guess who’s in Mandeville? In the house, Mama?” Visalia sat with a slight smile on her lips knowing she was baiting her mother, and enjoying it immensely.

  Lou Pearl glared over at her daughter, as she narrowed her eyes into slits. “Don’t you dare say who I think you’re going to say, Vi.”

  Visalia only looked over at her mother in annoyance. “It’s her house, Mama. The judge said it was her house.”

  “Who’s that?” DePaul asked. Both Lou Pearl and Visalia stared over at him as if he’d grown horns.

  “Go back to picking lint off your pants, DePaul,” Visalia said to him.

  “Trisha Thibodeaux stole that house from me,” said Lou Pearl indignantly. “I swear and be damned if I’ll let her keep what is rightfully mine. I’ll burn that house down and her with it before I let that happen!”

  “Mama!” Visalia stared at her mother in shock. “It’s a house. A thing. You barely stepped a foot into Grammy’s house when she was alive. I’m beginning to think the only reason you want it is because she didn’t leave it to you. Leave that girl alone.”

  “You can leave now, Visalia,” Lou Pearl said, popping her gum in her mouth.

  “Gladly.” She shot a glare to DePaul, as she stood and began to walk out. “You two can continue plotting on how to get something that will never be. You sicken me. The both of you.”

  “I’m Lou Pearl Thibodeaux, girl!” she yelled out to Visalia’s retreating back. “Ain’t nothing in this whole damn world that I can’t get if I put my mind to it.”

  * * * *

  Taffy pulled to a stop in the driveway of a large ranch home. She checked the address again that Jean-Michel had given to her on her phone. A plate of cookies sat on the seat beside her. Her mother had always told her never to show up at someone’s house without something for them. Jean-Michel had told her his sister had a lot of kids. Kids loved cookies.

  It was the first time she could remember going over to someone’s house for dinner since she was in college. But even then, she had been young. A young college girl having dinner at a friend’s house. Usually pizza. This was dinner. Sitting down at someone’s table with their family. She was nervous.

  The house was set far back on a one acre lot, as were most of the homes on the street. A large expanse of yard was in the front dotted with flowers among the skateboards, bicycles, and rollerblades. She could hear the sounds of life inside of the house. The occasional peal of laughter. Someone’s raised voice. It was the sound of family. The sound that she had hopes of having someday.

  Her heels clicked along the driveway, as she walked up the stone path that led to the front door. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to wear to dinner. Seeing as she had never been to a business dinner, she opted for a sundress and a pair of strappy sandals. She felt like she was going out on a date more than over for a business dinner. Family dinner. Fuck it, it was just dinner.

  She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She heard the footsteps coming to the door, and fighting the urge to run, she put on her best smile.

  “’Ello? You must be Taffy?” The petite woman said to her. Taffy nodded. “I’m Thalia. Bonjour, bonjour. It’s very nice to meet you. Come,” Thalia said, pulling her into a welcome hug as she walked into the house.

  There were kids surrounding her immediately. “My mom always told me to bring something with me when going to someone’s house for dinner,” said Taffy. “I brought cookies for your kids. I made them over at my friend’s house this afternoon.”

  “Cookies!” someone said, as the paper plate was taken from her hands.

  “My children,” Thalia said apologetically. “They eat everything before it has time to take root.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Taffy said, as Thalia led her into the large family room. “I hope I didn’t ruin their dinner.”

  “No, no. Like I said, they eat everything. Besides,” Thalia said turning to smile at her. “Kids are kids, and they eat cookies, yes?”

  The home had an open layout with the kitchen and the family room joined together in one large area. It was where the kids had taken the cookies to devour them. Thalia motioned for her to take a seat at the breakfast bar.

  “You’ve met my husband, yes?” asked Thalia. Her accent wasn’t as pronounced as Jean-Michel’s, but it was definitely French. “He’s out with the grill. I thought we would grill some steaks. You eat meat, yes?”

  “Oh, definitely,” Taffy said. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Oh, you are so kind,” Thalia said with a smile. “You are my guest. Sit. Oh, where are my manners? Children!”

  The kids came bustling into the room. “The tall one there,” Thalia said pointing to her son. “That is our eldest, Lester Jr.”

  “Mama, LJ,” the young man said to her.

  “Oh, yes.” She winked at Taffy. “LJ. Then there is Lisette, Marguerite, Henri, Yvette, Timothy, and the baby over there,” she pointed to a play pen in the family room where a chubby cheeked infant sat smiling and drooling happily. “Tina, our youngest.”

  “So far,” the kids said together.

  “No! Not so far. Go,” she said playfully shooing her children out of the room. “You are terrible.”

  Taffy smiled at seeing the kids joking with their mother. “Your kids are great.”

  “Yes. We think so, too. Too many, no?” Thalia didn’t wait for her to answer. “I know. But we love children. I always wanted a large family. Besides, Lester is a passionate man. If I even entertained the idea of telling him no, he would get to me when I was doing the dishes,” she said laughing. “I always say that if I didn’t know better, I would think he was a Frenchman.” She continued to laugh.

  Taffy was about to ask about using birth control, but when she saw the religious medallion around Thalia’s neck, she quickly changed her mind. Plus the fact that it was a personal question. Too personal after knowing her for a matter of minutes. She was feeling very comfortable around Thalia and her family. That was the only reason she could think of
why she wanted to ask such a question.

  He walked into the room, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “’Ello,” Jean-Michel said to her.

  “Jean-Michel, you are always late,” Thalia said to him, as he walked over to his sister and gave her a hug. “But, it gave me time to get to know Taffy without you.”

  Jean-Michel came over to stand close to Taffy, his eyes skimming over her body as if they were the only two in the room. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, but you’re doing it again,” she whispered to him.

  Thalia took a dish out of the refrigerator and walked toward the back door. She only casually glanced over at the two of them.

  “What am I doing?” he asked her.

  “You’re making me nervous with the things you say to me,” she said staring up at him.

  He laughed softy. “I make you nervous? I find it hard to breathe when I’m near you.”

  She felt that tingling down the center of her back. She wanted to giggle and sigh at the same time. “That,” she said pointing at him. “Saying things like that.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I will try not to make you nervous. I will talk about something else.” He seemed to think about something. “I’ve heard the market is going to start carrying fresh salmon.”

  Taffy frowned at him. “What?”

  He leaned in close to her. “I am trying,” he whispered, making them both laugh.

  The steak was delicious. Lester had guarded the grill like it was an escaped prisoner. He had also grilled vegetables that Thalia had marinated in herbs and olive oil. It was all very delicious.

  Afterward, she sat with Thalia to discuss the house and how she wanted to decorate it. What she loved most about Thalia’s ideas was that she didn’t tell her what she was going to do. She listened to Taffy and made suggestions when she thought they were needed. Taffy hired her. Looking forward to working with her. But soon it was time to leave.

  “You have to promise to come back,” Thalia said kissing her on both cheeks, as they all stood at the door. “We will be working closely. But I think you have won our children over with your cookies, so they will want more, yes?”

  “It was a pleasure having you, Taffy,” Lester said to her. “I have to head out to the station. Seems Buddy Griffith got to drinking again and took his anger out on his wife.” He turned and kissed his wife. “I’ll be back later. Jean-Michel,” he said, giving his brother-in-law a slap on the back and left out the door.

  Jean-Michel kissed his sister good-bye. “You’re leaving, too?” said Thalia.

  “I’m blocking Taffy in,” he said glancing at Taffy. “So, I thought it would be best to go home. I have to be at the house early tomorrow morning.”

  It was silent outside. The neighborhood seemed to be devoid of dogs barking, or the random car driving down the street. The only streetlight near the house was far enough away to only lend the necessary light to prevent anyone from falling into a ditch.

  Once at her car, she thought Jean-Michel would say good-bye and walk over to his to allow her to leave. But he stood beside her. In the dark. The silent dark that gave her the familiar flip-flop in her belly.

  “I guess I’ll say good-bye, then,” she said softly.

  “No, not yet,” he said taking his hand and turning her chin up to him with his finger. “Not yet,” he whispered, as his lips descended onto hers.

  She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Maybe she thought he would plunder her mouth with his tongue? Maybe she thought he would press her against her car in the middle of his sister’s driveway and kiss her deeply while grinding his cock against her passionately. But what she didn’t think was that he would kiss her so softly, so sensually, that it would tighten her nipples in response. That his lips, softly tasting hers would make her pussy wet and aching for his touch.

  When he pulled away from her, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, smiling slightly at seeing it tremble. “I look forward to this weekend, coquette.”

  Taffy stood dumbfounded, nodding to him as he walked over to his truck and got inside. He drove away, and still she stood in that one spot, as if his kiss had glued her to the ground.

  “Shit,” she said finally, quickly getting into her car and heading back to her motel.

  Chapter 6

  That weekend, Jean-Michel had offered to come and pick her up, but she insisted on driving to his home on her own. He lived in Charleston, but the drive gave her time to think and commit herself to not sleeping with him. But that aside, she had to admit that all other forms of seduction were in fair play.

  She was very attracted to him. She’d been thinking about him lately. A lot lately. Dreaming about him. His body. His hands on her body. The way he looked at her. His voice. His voice was like listening to sex. That good satisfying sex. Not the kind that some married woman feels obligated to give her husband on date night after the dinner and movie. His voice was like…Well, like sex with a man after meeting him at a club and going back to his place for the night. But she would not be sleeping with him tonight.

  “No!” she yelled out into the car, trying to affirm the fact to herself. For some reason it felt kind of weak.

  Jean-Michel lived in one of the smaller of the classic South Carolina homes. It was nestled between others like it on small lot, but the street looked homey and unpretentious. His driveway led to the back of the house and to the garage. She parked her car behind his, but sat inside not getting out.

  She knew that if—when. She knew that when she went inside, she would be kissing him. That was a given. She was attracted to him. She knew that, and more importantly, her pussy knew that. But it’s what would happen after the kissing. No matter what, she would not fall for him. She would keep her emotions out of her fun. That was what it was. It was only a good time for the time being. He could be a lot of fun. At least what she could remember had been fun. She closed her eyes, and bits and pieces of what happened the first night she’d met him drifted through her memory. And it was so fuckin’ delicious. He was like a piece of decadent chocolate that was best savored on the tongue. And she knew that fact from memory, because she had licked that chocolate up and down.

  “I am so fucked,” she said finally.

  There was a tap on her passenger window, and she looked over to see Jean-Michel looking in at her. “Are you okay, Taffy?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” But she still sat motionless.

  Jean-Michel smiled at her. “The dinner is inside. I think it would be better to come in to eat it. I could bring it out here to you, but then you wouldn’t be having dinner with me, exactly.”

  She was being stupid. He wasn’t going to ravage her like in some regency romance novel. She could possibly ravage him, though. She got out of the car, walking over to meet him on the other side.

  “Dinner,” he said speaking inside of her bubble. “Maybe some wine, yes? Conversation? That is all. Anything more is up to you,” he said leading her in by the hand.

  They walked into the kitchen through the back door from the deck. His kitchen was bright and new. It had a definite European feel to it with blonde cabinets and an oversized stove. Not one of those stainless steel stoves that was in every home across America, but a European stove with a porcelain finish and several ovens that opened to the side instead of down. She remembered the stove was called an AGA. A stove for a serious cook. She was envious.

  A large island was in the center of the kitchen covered in beautiful quartz stone. Four stools sat around the counter. As she looked around, she knew that he had done all of the work himself. It looked like him.

  “You have a beautiful home, Jean-Michel,” she said sitting down at the counter in one of the stools.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  He was over at the stove stirring something in a pot. She noticed then that he was wearing a pair of well-worn and well-fitting jeans. Not the kind that hung down on his waist, or were so tight that the outline of his dick could be made out. His jeans
were fitting just right. They accentuated his ass perfectly without being too tight. She hated seeing skinny jeans on a grown man. She always wondered where they put their dicks. If they could fit their junk into a pair of skinny jeans, then it was definitely not the junk she wanted.

  His casual shirt was unbuttoned some in the front. She could see his chiseled chest underneath, as he turned left or right. He had only the smallest amount of hair on his chest, but she could almost remember nuzzling her nose in that hair. It was soft.

  She looked down and noticed he was barefoot. She smiled then, as he stood with his back to her. He had manly feet. They weren’t scaly and rough looking, but soft and manly.

  “I am trying to stay over here at the stove to give you enough time to study me,” he said with a laugh. “Can I turn around now?”

  She was shocked that he had known of her observation. “Oh,” she said then started to laugh along with him. “Yes, you can. And thank you for giving me enough time.”

  He walked closer to where she was sitting, wiping his hands casually on a towel that sat on the counter. “Now,” he said gazing at her intently. “My turn.” He didn’t ask, but took her hand, standing her up and turning her around in front of him.

  She was glad she had taken the time to pick something nice to wear. Hell, she had spent more than an hour in the tub luxuriating in the soft floral scent of the bath beads. A small mountain of clothes was piled on her bed and waiting for her upon her return. She’d decided to wear one of her favorite maxi dresses. It was multi-colored with a crocheted top that showed just enough cleavage in her opinion. The material clung seductively to her curves accentuating her hips and the small pooch of her stomach. She’d pinned her hair up, leaving soft tendrils to frame her face. She never wore much makeup, but that night she paid extra attention to her shadow and her lips. All of her effort seemed to pay off, as she saw the look on his face.

  “You look stunning,” he said to her finally. His eyes skimmed over her body making her feel naked instead of clothed. He had that effect on her. Every time he looked at her, she felt as though he were devouring her. Or that could have been her looking at him.