by Lynn Shurr
Clint cleared his throat. “We decided on Ty for the boy.” No sense in explaining that Ty was short for Tiger. His father preferred very traditional names.
“Ty—a cowboy name. Ty what?” his old man asked severely.
“Ty Odulf Beck.” Clint shook his head. Sometimes, you had to give in and get on with life.
“And our little granddaughter?” Lena inquired.
“We picked Serena because that’s the kind of life we want our daughter to have, serene,” Clint said.
“Serena Maria Madalena Beck,” Renee added.
“Perfect.”
Epilogue
Twelve years later
Mount Carmel Academy, Rainbow, Louisiana
Serena Maria Madalena Beck, who was neither calm nor saintly, stamped her foot on the shells in the oval drive and pouted. “I don’t see why I’m the one being sent away to boarding school when Ty gets to stay at home and play cowboy.”
“Being educated at Mt. Carmel Academy is a privilege. All the Niles girls attend here. As Grandfather Gunny would say, it’s an old family tradition,” her mother answered firmly.
“Family tradition is why my brother has a dorky middle name like Odulf. Besides, I am not a Niles. I’m a Beck,” Serena claimed, her sea-blue eyes turning dark as a storm passing over the ocean. She tossed her auburn hair. The cheeks of her fair, flawless, and freckle-free face reddened.
“You’re a Niles girl, no doubt about it. You and your mother are the prettiest women here today,” her father told her.
That made Serena smile and blush again. At age twelve, she was still more concerned about her horse, now stabled in the Academy barn, than about boys, but she recognized a grand compliment when she heard one.
“You’ll get a wonderful education and be completely safe here,” her mom assured her. “We’ll only be a phone call away, and the Sisters will take good care of you. You have Auntie Noreen and Auntie Eve and Grandpa Jed living just down the road. There’s a shrine here to your own special saint where you can pray, but don’t go into the woods alone. Remember the two old nuns I used tell you about? I am sure they are both your guardian angels now—along with St. Leontine—but I wouldn’t bother her too often. She tends to be rather severe when people don’t want to obey her.” Renee Beck finally ran out of breath.
“As if I’d ever tell anyone my mother thinks she had a vision commanding her to marry my dad.”
Her mom worried way too much about her kids. Serena guessed that was why she’d never had any more children, that and giving birth at a rodeo, which must have been very embarrassing. She’d never understood why any woman would have to be ordered to marry a handsome, rich, wonderful guy like her dad.
Might as well let the rest of it out, Renee Beck thought. “You might hear stories about me from the other girls. I went to school with their mothers and…”
An eye roll from Serena. “I’m to tell them you reformed, turned your life around, are a better person now. I’m supposed to study hard and get good grades even though you didn’t. Yada yada.”
“Someone has to run the Beck Corporation after I retire, and it doesn’t look like Ty will be the one. He has bull riding and bullfighting on the brain.” Clinton Beck gave his daughter a wide grin full of perfect dentistry.
In a light gray business suit worn with a deep blue tie the color of his eyes, her dad was easily the best looking father at orientation. The sunshine picked out the silver strands in his short dark blond hair and made it shine.
“Yeah, Uncle Bodey says Uncle Rusty blew it when he had another daughter the year I was born because his sons and Ty are going to rodeo together. Aunt Norma Jean says she could train me to be a barrel racer. Sarah Beth Niles could never do that. She’s too puny.” Serena dismissed her second cousin with a wave of her hand.
“Listen to me, Rena. I want you to be kind to Sarah Beth. She’ll be in all your classes.” Do as I say, not as I did. Renee gave a slight shrug.
“Sarah is weird.”
“You might be, too, if you’d nearly died when you were six. Sarah is pretty and very talented, just rather shy.”
“Shea told me she did die. They had to bring her back to life with artificial respiration and those paddles, and that’s why she’s so different, but he and his brothers watch out for her. Shea told me he’d be happy to punch anyone who was mean to me, too.”
“Great.” Clint Beck smiled as his wife and daughter duked it out. “That will be like having three brothers living nearby. All of them go to St. Leo’s.”
“For the time being,” muttered Renee. “They were nearly expelled last year after putting that yearling bull in the vestry and almost giving Fr. Brian a heart attack. He could have been injured, not to mention the damage the animal did to the vestments. Bull poop everywhere. The animal must have been in there for hours. If Eve weren’t so active in the church, those boys would have been out on their asses.”
Serena had to giggle over her mother using poop and asses in the same speech. Her mom tried so hard to be proper, but sometimes the wild woman everyone said she’d been came out.
“Not so funny, young lady. Uncle Bodey and Uncle Russ had to bring over horses and ropes and a trailer to get the beast, and meanwhile, it was flinging around the holy vessels.”
“A good bullfighter could have done that with his bare hands. Bodey did pay for the damages. I wonder how the boys got the animal all the way over here,” Clinton O. Beck speculated. “Speak of the devils and here they come.”
Sauntering through the wrought iron gates of Mt. Carmel Academy came the Landrum brothers, Shea and Ben, a year apart in age and alike enough with their mischievous bright blue eyes and dark, curly hair to be twins. Ten-year-old Rick had his mother’s light coloring and long legs, making him nearly as tall as his siblings. No wonder their mother’s pale hair got whiter by the year.
Ty in the midst of them was as happy as could be because no one planned on sending him off to some snooty school. He’d soon be back in San Antonio practicing his rodeo skills. His floppy red hair combed back with water and his freckles apparent even from a distance, he waved to his family.
“Wasn’t Aunt Eve going to bring you over in time for the orientation Mass while we were settling Rena in her dormitory room? I didn’t see you at the service, son.” Renee Beck stared her boy in the eyes, hazel like her own. He attempted a wide and innocent gaze and the goofy grin that usually won his mother over.
“Ah, Aunt Eve had to come early to help with the registration, and Uncle Bodey kind of forgot about Mass, so Uncle Rusty picked us up just now. But we’re here in time for the brunch. Aunt Noreen said there would be cinnamon buns. Her and Uncle Rusty and the girls are right behind us. We had to park about a mile away. Aunt Noreen said they have been oriented enough since Katie has gone here for years, but she promised to help serve the meal. Can we go eat now?”
“Y’all run along—and don’t be a nuisance. Clint, you’d better go with them and keep them out of trouble. I want to wait for Noreen.” Renee shaded her eyes, looking for her friend. She really should put on sunglasses to prevent any more wrinkles from forming.
“I know how to herd young bulls, Tiger. I’ll save a place for you.” Clint followed the boys stampeding toward the cafeteria. His daughter took to her heels, parochial kilt swinging, and raced after them kicking up puffs of dust from the circular drive and passing, lickety-split, the statue of the Virgin and Child in the center of the lawn.
Renee let Serena go. Her daughter was spirited, bold, and undamaged, and she hoped Mt. Carmel Academy would keep her that way.
Wearing the school uniform of white blouses and blue kilts, Katie and Sarah Beth Niles turned in at the gates. Not as striking as Serena, both were still very pretty girls. Katie had her cascading red curls pulled back and held in place with golden barrettes. Sarah, her straight blonde hair hanging over her large, light eyes, walked along studying her shoe tips.
“Your brother Jesse couldn’t make it?” Renee asked
Rusty’s daughters.
“No, ma’am. He’s already at college. I can’t wait to get out of this place and leave for the university. Two more years,” the leggy sixteen-year-old sighed, heaving a nicely rounded bosom.
“I remember that feeling, but believe me, once you are out in the world, this place will seem wonderful.”
“I guess,” Katie said, trying not to sound rude.
“You don’t have to stand here in the broiling sun with me. Serena and the boys have gone ahead. Go and join them.”
Katie started up the drive, but Sarah hung back. “I’ll wait with you, Aunt Renee. I don’t think Serena likes me very much,” the child said softly. Small for her age and still flat-chested, she could not compete with Serena’s budding figure.
“Honey, if you stand up to Rena, you’ll win her respect. Remember that, and don’t let her bully you. She’s too used to getting her own way. I hear you have a beautiful singing voice and play the piano so very well. I’ll tell you a secret—my daughter can’t sing on key to save her life and has no musical talent whatsoever.”
Sarah looked up through her long bangs and smiled timidly. “Thanks for telling me that. I thought Serena could do everything.”
“No one can. I hear you have three knights in shining armor willing to defend you.” Renee stooped down trying to get the girl to raise her head.
“Uncle Bodey’s boys, just Shea really, but his brothers do what he says. They aren’t very much like knights—more like cattle rustlers, my dad says. I’d like to have a real knight to fight for me like the ones in Le Morte d’Arthur.” Sarah looked up now, gray-blue eyes filled with light.
“I can see you are ahead of Serena in reading, too, but she’s very good at math. You should help each other.”
“I will if she’ll let me.”
“Go along and save some places at the table for us.”
The child went, dragging her feet, scuffing her new school shoes in the shells, and looking back over her shoulder for her parents. Rusty and Noreen finally appeared, Noreen puffing as she held on to her husband’s arm. She’d never lost her baby weight after Sarah’s birth and remained much rounder than she should be, while Rusty was still so tall and lean and distinguished now with those white streaks in his hair. Renee knew Noreen wore the black dress with three-quarter sleeves to look thinner, but orientation day at Mt. Carmel always meant a hot and sticky affair, a part of living in Louisiana. She’d worn sleeveless white cotton with a few colorful accents, herself.
“Hi, Renee. You look great as usual.” Noreen smiled, doubling her chin.
Her big, brown eyes were as lovely as ever though. She held out her chubby arms to give her friend a hug, and Renee noted her curls were still dark without the aid of dye. She felt a little pinch of envy at that. Like so many of the Niles family, she was going white early and had tinted hers back to the shade Clint loved.
“I’ll tell you a secret. I cheat.”
Noreen grew horrified. “Not on Clint!”
“Oh, no, no. I meant I look great because I had a breast reduction and a lift. Makes me look slimmer. Clint said I didn’t need any surgery, but that was all I wanted for our anniversary, to keep looking great for him.”
“I’m so relieved. Maybe I should get liposuction now that we have money,” Noreen said, whispering.
“I think Rusty loves you just the way you are.”
“Honey, I’m going ahead to walk with Sarah, okay?” Rusty asked.
He was very aware of the forlorn looks his daughter cast over her shoulder. Because of her delicate health, she’d been home-schooled until this year. Maybe they should have enrolled her sooner, but there had been the money issue until recently. Katie had that nice scholarship and thrived at the Academy. Sarah Beth would be fine, too. He knew she would if she could simply get over her fears.
“Sure. Renee and I will have a nice chat. See you in the cafeteria.” Noreen watched her husband move away, her smile now small and secret.
How fortunate those two were to find each other at such a young age and to love each other still, Renee thought. How lucky she was to have found Clinton O. Beck at all. Or maybe not lucky. Sr. Helen and Sr. Inez always said all things came with time and prayer. That had certainly been true of Noreen and Rusty, of Bodey and Eve, of herself and Clint.
“Looks like you finally got a petite, blonde Courville in Sarah. I was beginning to think there was no such being,” Renee joked.
“I’m not sure how I got her either, but I always wanted to be one. You know, like that portrait of Marie-Celeste Courville my parents have, so feminine and golden.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Noreen. You have more important qualities. So, how do you like living out at Frenchman’s Bend now that the decorator has finally sold it to you?”
“For a pretty penny though we talked him down a million. I know you think I’m nuts, but I feel as if I belong there, that I’ve lived there before.”
Renee refrained from commenting on that last remark. Noreen had stood by her when she thought she’d lost both Clint and her babies. She would never make fun of her again. Who knew? Maybe Noreen was right about all that reincarnation junk.
“No one deserves that house more than you and Rusty. You were the one who wrote the book on the Niles family that brought in enough money to buy that marshy, old thicket where the Rebs sneaked up on the Yankee army at the Battle of Frenchman’s Bend.”
“Well, we had to do something. They were going to drain the area and put up more houses. It’s sacred ground.”
“Right. My dad had a fit when the land deal fell through after your appeal to the owner. And then, you go and discover oil down there and buy the plantation house, too.”
Once upon a time, Renee would have envied her friend for more than her natural hair color, but she had Clint, a very fancy roof over her head called the Hacienda Hidalgo, and all the beans she could eat. Her life was good.
“I’m starting another book, one on Wild Billy Niles and Owney Maddox and what happened to them based on my senior thesis. Could I stay with you when I come to Texas to do research?”
“As my mother-in-law used to say—mi casa es su casa. I’d like some female company now that Serena is away at school. It’s just me and Clint and Ty and grumpy old Gunter now. I miss Lena so much. Why did she have to be the one to pass away? And it seems odd being here at the Academy again without seeing Sr. Helen and Sr. Nessy bumping around on their canes and trying to fix everyone’s lives.” Renee glanced over toward the nun’s graveyard full of simple markers for the Sisters who had served and died here, overwhelmed now by the large shrine built above the grave of St. Leontine.
“I’ll bet Mother Leontine hates all that folderol. Must be a pain being a saint and having people begging for stuff all the time,” Noreen remarked.
“Only you would think that or use a word like folderol, Noreen. Love that about you. To think I didn’t recognize her in my dream when Clint was injured. I spent enough time in the Mother Superior’s office being chewed out for my make-up, my rolled up skirts, and my attitude problems with her portrait glaring down at me.”
Renee gestured in passing toward the historic brick convent with the wavy old glass in the windows and small ferns growing in the cracks of the plaster, two women over forty and still loved by their husbands.
“You did write up that testimony about your vision, and it did help Mother Leontine become a saint. I’m sure she has forgiven you.”
“Mama Lena pushed me to do it. I’ll never be as good as I should be.”
“Oh, you’ve come a long way. Better pick up the pace or all the cinnamon buns will be gone.”
****
Over on the top of Mother Leontine’s shrine, the spirits of Sr. Helen and Sr. Inez watched their former students walk away. They no longer needed their canes, but had chosen not to appear any younger than they were at their deaths only days apart several years ago. Old people were a less threatening form if they had to materialize.
>
“I hope Mother Leontine doesn’t mind our staying here to help,” said Sr. Helen. “We do have another generation of Niles girls to look after.”
Sr. Nessy stretched out across the top of the shrine while Sr. Helen dangled her skinny legs over the edge of a parapet. “Which one do you want?”
“I think I should devote myself to the timid child, Sarah, since I am more in tune with the artistic.” Sr. Helen bobbed her head.
“Fine, I’ll take on Serena Beck. She’s going to be a handful. As for Mother Leontine minding—I think this is all part of her plan.”
A word about the author...
Once a librarian, now a writer of romance, Lynn Shurr grew up in Pennsylvania Dutch country. She attended a state college and earned a degree in English Literature. Her first job really was working in a burger joint. Moving from one humble job to another, she traveled to Europe and across the United States, finally buckling down to get an M.A. in Librarianship.
She found her first reference job in the Heart of Cajun Country. For her, the old saying “Once you’ve tasted bayou water, you will always stay here” came true. She raised three children not far from the Bayou Teche and lives there still with her astronomer husband.
When not writing, Lynn likes to paint, cheer for the New Orleans Saints and LSU tigers, and take long road trips nearly anywhere. Her love of the bayou country, its history and customs, often shows in the background for her books.
She is the author of the Sinners sports romances, a new series, The Roses, and a single title romance, A Trashy Affair.
Contact Lynn at:
www.lynnshurr.com, [email protected]
or
lynnshurr.blogspot.com
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