by Hattie Mae
“I'm sorry, Joelette. The law is not after me, if that is what you think.”
“Are you sure?”
Mansir felt the blood drain from his face. He stopped and glanced down at Joelette. A knot formed in his stomach. “No, I guess I'm not.”
CHAPTER NINE
Joelette placed the starched white shirt she'd made for Mansir on his bed. A peace offering. Since their discussion the first day in the field, she knew she'd misjudged him. Always waiting for him to make excuses and not keep his word about the work. But as she worked beside him and watched him with the boys and MaeMae that doubt was slowly disappearing.
Night after night Joelette watched as Mansir and T-Boy worked on his math. Mansir prepared a lesson plan and even included a hands-on approach where he took the word problems and created wood projects, like the number of birdhouses that now graced the front yard. Sometimes they had pieces of fruit all over the table, he even used MaeMae one night. It worked. T-boy understood how the math problems were solved.
Her heart soared as she thought of T-Boy and Mansir at the kitchen table. Their heads so close together they sometimes touched. She’d heard T-Boy laugh more the past week than she ever remembered hearing him before. Maybe she too had become the student with a lesson on judging.
Joelette sat on Mansir's bed and fingered the finely starched shirt. A smile worked itself across her lips as she thought of the man who would fill that shirt in a few hours. MaeMae said it was time to show the people of Bon Amie the man living in their house that had set tongues a wagging.
Humming a song, Joelette headed back outside. Everyone had earned a night of fun. On the third Saturday of each month the American Legion sponsored a dance with live music in Bon Amie. Tonight the town would not roll its sidewalks up early. Tonight Joelette played her fiddle at the Fai-do-do, and her feet were already moving in anticipation of the music.
As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that Mansir was responsible for much of the lightness she felt. She’d had a bounce in her step since she’d rolled out of bed that morning. She couldn’t help but close her eyes and see Mansir’s face with his clear blue eyes. He might not have a past, but she knew one thing for certain, he had a big heart.
Joelette walked out on the porch thinking she would find Mansir sitting on the dock overlooking the bayou writing in his notebook. He spent almost all of his free time either in the workshop or writing in that book. She wished she knew what his thoughts were that he wrote about.
T-Boy and Mansir came in from the workshop with Ozamae right behind them. “Tomorrow I can make something, right, Mansir? Tomorrow just us guys, right? I bet I can make a birdhouse as tall as you are, Mansir. Don't you?” Ozamae paused for a breath and gave the opening Joelette needed.
“Who wants to go to the dance tonight?” she asked.
“It’s tonight,” Ozamae said. He jumped up and down. “Just wait until you see all the cakes, pies and cookies.”
“Get in the bath tub and scrub until you shine. I laid your clothes out on your beds. Time's a wasting,” Joelette said, giving her boys a push.
Mansir stood on the porch, but he said nothing.
“Don't just stand there, Mansir. You too. I have to get dressed myself. Mrs. Broussard generously gave me a large piece of beautiful material she purchased in New Orleans. Claimed it wasn't her color. So I made me a dress, and I’m ready to twirl around the dance floor.” She spun a few times. Mansir grinned at her. Then she turned to go into the house. “Come on, or we'll leave you.” She looked over her shoulder. “By the way, I made you something new to wear, too. It's on your bed.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he said.
“Say nothing, just go get dressed,” Joelette said as she headed down the hall to the bathroom.
Not half an hour later, Joelette looked at herself in the mirror. She'd designed the dress to fit snug on her body and flare just above the knee in a soft flounce. The skirt swished from side to side when she walked and she knew it would move to the music when she danced. The bright red showed off her dark hair, which she drew back in a half ponytail, with a few soft wisps of hair around her face. Lipstick would be all the makeup she’d need tonight. Excitement had already pinked her cheeks.
Mansir sat at the kitchen table talking to the rest of the family when she walked in. When he looked her way she heard his breath catch.
“What a dress,” he said.
“You look like a princess, Mom,” Ozamae said, rushing over and almost knocking her down with a hug. Even T-Boy smiled.
“You do look pretty Cher, but maybe you should wear shoes,” MaeMae teased.
“Shoes? I forgot shoes. I'll be right back. Y’all get in the truck.” Turning around she added, “I think we can all sit up front if we squeeze in.”
Squeeze they did, Ozamae sat on MaeMae's lap, forcing T-Boy to sit on Mansir's. Joelette noticed T-Boy provided Mansir a place. A place to settle in. She hoped their life didn't become too settled with Mansir in it, because when he discovered his real life, she had a deep feeling he would be gone. Tonight she wouldn’t think about that. Not tonight.
###
The large tin building couldn't hold ten more people. Mansir had no idea where all the people came from. The noise level exploded with everyone laughing and talking. Men slapped each other on the back, shook hands, every now and then greeting each other in French. Women hugged and kissed the adults and children. Anyone passing through could tell these people lived for this dance.
Large, wooden round tables lined the dance hall on both sides. The smell of fresh-baked goods drew people to the rectangular tables placed both in front of the building and at the back. They were laden with food and drinks welcoming the hungry and thirsty. They proved to be the most favorite hangout for the children.
MaeMae hugged and kissed her way to a table close to the bandstand and motioned Mansir to follow. Three young boys walked back and forth across the old wood dance floor throwing out handfuls of something.
“What are they doing?” Mansir asked.
MaeMae followed his gaze to the dance floor and then smiled. “Putting out the corn meal. Makes the dancing go smoother.”
The band climbed onto the stage and began to tune up. People clapped and the music started. Someone yelled 'eyee’ and couples littered the floor.
MaeMae was one of the first on the floor and Mansir could see why. Her feet floated over the floor as a young man guided her. Every part of her body moved to the beat of the music. She was ageless.
Women danced with women, children with children and young lovers never lowered their eyes from each other's. The rhythm of the two-step soon had Mansir tapping his feet to the beat.
The next set of songs mixed two-steps, slow and fast songs. It seemed that no one sat out a dance. They changed partners and kept on dancing. MaeMae danced with both T-Boy and Ozamae and most of the men in the place old and young alike. At her urging, Mansir tried to dance a two-step, but he proved uncoordinated and left the floor telling her he had four feet.
He leaned against a post near the stage, watching Joelette play her fiddle. After the song ended, she put the instrument down and walked toward him. The tempo shifted, he recognized it as a waltz. The same song he'd heard her play on the day he awoke to this strange world.
“Want to dance?” Joelette held out her hand.
“I think I do. I seem to recall I know how to waltz. Let's see if I'm right.” Pulling her into his arms he almost forgot where he was. He cleared his throat. “What is the name of this waltz?”
“This is one of my favorites, it's called Over the Waves.”
“It's now my favorite.” He pulled her to him tighter and spun around the floor. The beat of the music flowed through his veins. His mind free. Who cared that he didn't have a memory? Tonight, at this moment, he would allow himself to forget his dilemma. Tonight he didn't need a past. Tonight, he would just enjoy the present. And the possibility of a future.
“You better
not hold me so tight. You are our helper remember.” Looking around the room she pointed out two older women with their heads close together talking. “See, the Mouton sisters are already talking, besides you’re making me short-winded, and I'm getting light-headed.” Joelette looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, her face flushed.
He could feel her heart beating through his shirt. “It's not me cutting off your air that's making you short-winded, m'lady.” But before he could say more, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in? I do believe this is my dance, Joelette. You don't mind do you, Mansir?” Possum stood there with that crooked grin spread across his face.
“No, I don't mind.”
Mansir watched the two of them dance and talk and every now and then they’d laugh. They enjoyed each other's company. Joelette was a whole head taller than Possum, she didn’t seem to care, she looked happy. Mansir made his way to the drink table.
He grabbed a cold drink then popped the top and took one swallow when someone walked up behind him.
“Hey I know you.” A strange man slapped Mansir on the back and grabbed his hand.
Mansir felt the blood drain from his face. His legs trembled. He knew his hand shook so he stuffed it in his pocket. “You know me?” He felt weak.
“Yea sure, you’re that guy that Joelette and MaeMae hired from up North. MaeMae told Mrs. Savoy about you. She's my aunt. Roger Dale’s the name.” He looked up at Mansir and whistled. “You are a big guy. But folks from north Louisiana are a little taller than we are in south Louisiana. My granddaddy used to say God put us closer to the ground so we could see the gators and snakes better. What do you do for a living?”
Mansir tried to regain his composure; tried to remember all the things the man had just said. He drained his drink and deposited it in the trash then folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I suppose I'm still tying to decide.”
“Oh, trying to find yourself.” Roger nodded knowingly. “My daddy said I couldn't have any time searching for myself. After I graduated, I better just know. And if I didn't, he’d tell me. So I made a decision right away. I became a person of interest. Whatever other people were interested in I was too. My daddy he’s gone now so I don’t have to work so hard in acting interested.”
Mansir's eyes followed in the direction Roger Dale looked and waved. He noticed a plump young woman with several teeth missing headed their way.
“Oh Lordy, I got to run, and I mean run. If Anna Mae gets a hold of me she won't let go all night. And if you're smart, you'll be right behind me,” Roger said.
Mansir followed in the direction Roger Dale headed, but stopped short of leaving the dance hall, when he heard the sound of a single fiddle. He turned and saw her on stage. The bow worked its magic on the fiddle as she drew it across the strings. Each note pulled her body with it swaying to the beat. Her eyes closed as a haunting smile stilled her lips.
Mansir froze. He was mesmerized. She was pure art in motion. She coaxed the notes out of the instrument with such passion. Pulling and pushing until each sound worked itself loose and drifted through the dance hall. The song ended and he released the breath he held.
The drummer tapped a beat on his sticks and the singer in the band sang something in French and the crowd sang it back. He could tell by the interaction that this song was a crowd favorite.
He passed by the drink table, where he’d been standing when he’d heard those words. “Hey, I know you.” Mansir shook his head and walked outside. He leaned against the truck. Fear gripped his soul. What if someone recognized him?
“Hey man, you okay?” A large man in a police uniform stepped over to him.
“Yes, I’m just getting a little fresh air.” He held out his hand. “My name is Mansir.”
“It does get a little warm when everyone gets to moving around. I’m Preston LeBlanc, and I know who you are. News in Bon Amie travels fast.”
“So I’ve learned. Are you on the force in Bon Amie?” Maybe this guy could help him find out information.
“Not full time yet. I mainly work special events and fill in when needed. I live and work with my brothers on our rice farm. I hear you are helping out Joelette and MaeMae, they are two fine women.”
“Yes they are. They’ve certainly helped me. I know I’ll never be able to fully repay them.” He knew he couldn’t wait any longer to find out who he was. “Preston, if you have the time I‘d like to see if you could help me with a problem.”
“Sure thing, I’ll swing by one day this next week. See you then.” Preston said as he shook Mansir’s hand and headed back inside the dance.
He didn’t feel like going back in so he went back to the truck. Mansir sat with his head laid back on the seat. He closed his eyes and listened to the jovial sound of the Cajun people and their music.
Visions of Joelette in her new red dress flitting across the dance floor flashed in front of his eyelids like a movie. The way she felt in his arms. The way her hair smelled and tickled his chin. He knew that unless he recovered his memory, this was going nowhere. That had to be his main goal, remember the facts, and deal with the concrete things.
MaeMae opened the passenger side door, with Ozamae by her side. “Roger Dale said you were out here. Do you feel alright?”
“I'm fine. It’s a little warm in there and I needed air. I can still hear the music. Did you wear out your feet? I've never seen anyone dance like you.”
“You should have seen me dance in my younger days. My Bennie and I never missed a set. That's where we met, at a dance. After he passed, I thought my dancing days were gone, but I hear the music and my feet take over.”
“I'm tired,” Ozamae whined.
“Little heart, I know you are. You sit in the truck with Mansir and I'll see if the others are ready. Maybe I'll dance one more dance. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. You go ahead. Ozamae and I'll be fine. Won't we, partner?”
Mansir took Ozamae in his lap, he tucked his little head in the crook of Mansir’s arm. The boy let out a long sigh, and then fell asleep almost instantly. Distant thunder sounded. He watched the boy's face, so peaceful and trusting. Mansir knew his fond feelings were for more of the family than just Joelette.
###
Mansir sat on the front porch listening to the family with their good night routine, and then the household turned quiet.
An owl hooted in the distance. He opened his notebook and began writing.
Tonight I experienced hope that someone had recognized me. And with hope came fear. Why fear? Do I have something to hide in my past?
Mansir recapped small memories and feelings he'd jotted down over the past week, hoping it would come together to form a memory. Nothing. Nothing that gave the smallest clue to his past or identity. He had talked to the sheriff earlier in the week and no one had turned up his description for a missing person. Each week he called and hoped that someone was looking for him, missing him. He slammed the book down and threw his head back. If he didn't regain his memory soon he felt sure he would go mad.
Hearing footsteps behind him, he picked up his book. “I thought you'd gone to bed, Joelette.”
“How did you know it was me? You got eyes in back of your head?”
Mansir turned and looked up at her natural beauty. She'd taken off the fine red dress and replaced it with a tee shirt and shorts, and still she was beautiful.
The owl hooted again. “An owl told me.” His voice a little raspy, he cleared his throat, then motioned for her to sit beside him.
They sat together and listened to nature's night music. Mansir broke the silence. “I don't think I've seen people enjoy themselves as much as the people at the dance tonight.”
Joelette leaned back on her elbows. “We're people who work hard and play just as hard. That's what makes life worthwhile, don't you think?”
“I suppose.”
“The Cajun people, our lives center around food, family, friends and music. I don't know how it is in oth
er parts of the country, but I like it this way. It’s a tried and true way.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that.” He leaned back so he was even with Joelette. “Have you every traveled? You know, been out of Louisiana?”
She turned and looked him in the eye. “No. I never needed to search for anything. Everything I need is here. Does that make me uneducated or something?”
“No, not at all. I was thinking that I've been all over. Even to foreign countries. But Louisiana, or not this part, doesn't seem familiar to me. Yet I feel at home here. I keep asking myself why I came here? Maybe my work?”
“Maybe, or maybe it’s like you said you were running from something,” Joelette said. Then she shook her head. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown that back at you. I'm sure your work took you many places.”
“It’s okay. I’ve thought that myself more than once. I hope that’s not the case.” Mansir stood. “I think I'll turn in. It's been a long day. Are you going in?” He offered his hand to Joelette.
“I think I'll watch a little TV.” She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet.
Mansir didn't let go of her hand. How great it would be to walk into that house together.
He opened his hand and she removed hers. Slapping at a bug he looked down at his shirt she'd made him, and smiled. “I almost forgot. Thanks for the shirt. It fits great like the others you've made me. You're a talented woman, Joelette. You make me feel special. In many ways.”
Mansir pushed away a stray curl that fell on Joelette's forehead. Her hair, soft as silk, slid through his fingers. She was unaware of her beauty. He felt her shudder. A deep sadness overcame him. This special woman who stood before him needed a special man, and he could not be that man.
“Thank you for an unforgettable night. Your family is very generous, Joelette, and all have become dear to me.” Mansir opened the front door. Looking back over his shoulder, she stood where he'd left her. A question on those lips still tinted with lipstick. The soft silky curl once again fell on her face.