Under the Sassafras

by Hattie Mae

  Possum laughed. “Joelette has you so riled up, you can’t even follow my conversation. I told you she was a strong-willed woman, didn't I?” Possum pointed his bottle of beer at Mansir.

  Mansir said nothing, merely frowned at his friend.

  “Sara called on your cell phone. You left it here, so I answered it. She will be in later today. I'm cooking this for her. You, my grumpy friend, are welcome to share supper with us if you want. But no crying at the table.” Possum winked.

  “You're cooking this for my sister?” Mansir watched as Possum's face blushed. “Well, hell, man. When did this happen? Do you have a thing for her?”

  “I've got eyes. I noticed the beautiful woman on the end of those gorgeous long legs, damn straight I did. It's not what you think though, I'm just doing this to be nice. I know someone with her class would never look twice at me.” Possum grinned. “But she will notice my cooking and so will you.”

  “We're two pitiful souls, aren't we?” Mansir laughed with his friend. “Both have our eyes on women who could care less about us.”

  “Joelette loves you, Mansir. She’s afraid to admit it yet. I've known her a long time and I think she is worth the wait. Let her think for a while. You know, give a little slack in the line before you reel her in.”

  Possum put the large iron pot on the stove, added some oil and turned on the gas. The meat sizzled and soon the boat filled with the smells of onions and garlic browning with the roast. He stood over his pot, tending it with care. Turning it often, he added a small amount of water each time until the whole roast browned a dark caramel color.

  Mansir opened his next beer. “So who taught you how to cook?” Mansir relaxed as he watched his friend move around the small kitchen with knowledge. Maybe Possum knew what he was talking about. Joelette would come to her senses.

  Possum added more water. “When I was a boy, my grandmother would take me with her to visit aunts, cousins and friends on Saturday afternoon. In almost every home we visited, the woman would be sitting at her kitchen table with a pork or beef roast in front of her. I watched each one, with their own unique way of making the roast. My grandmother thought, she’d always make small slits in the roast and stuff them with a mixture of chopped onions, garlic and green onions. Then she’d would rub the red pepper and salt over the whole thing. The last ingredient she’d add was a small amount of sugar sprinkled over the roast.”

  Possum added more water, turned the heat down, and covered the pot of succulent smells. “The sugar helps it brown nicely. Never underestimate that little touch of something special.”

  Mansir propped his feet on the chair across from him, locked his hands behind his head and leaned back. “The only place you can get away with leaning back in a chair is in another man's house. Ever notice that, Possum?”

  “You break my chair, you buy me another one, smart man. What time you think we ought to leave for the airport? We don't want to be late to pick up your sister.” With that Possum set down his beer. “No more drinking for me tonight.”

  Mansir laughed for the first time since the run in with Joelette. “Getting anxious, are we?” They fell quiet a few minutes. “Possum, how long have you known Joelette?”

  “Ever since she moved here with Otis. She made every man turn his head when she walked down the street. Cajun women are beautiful, but she had the added height to go with her beauty, and that voice. I think we all fell a little in love with her.”

  “She does have a sexy voice, doesn't she? Did I ever tell you the first time I saw her, I thought she was an angel,” Mansir said. “I was just waking up from being unconscious and she glided into my room and said something to me in that slow sexy voice. I think I fell in love with her at that moment.” Mansir felt his heart pick up the beat.

  Possum turned the roast and added more water and checked his pot of rice. He then scrubbed at a spot on the cabinet, then turned back to Mansir.

  “Joelette, did not have a good marriage. Otis was handsome, but bad to the bone. He'd been engaged to Eula Mae Comeaux when he made the trip to north Louisiana. Otis came back with a bride; never called Eula Mae or his folks. Joelette never knew about the engagement.” Possum came back and sat. “Anyways, after he was back awhile, he started seeing Eula Mae again. She has a couple of children by him. I don't think Joelette knows about the children, but she knew about the affair. He never tried to hide it from anyone. Like he was bragging. He probably has more children with different women running around South Louisiana.”

  “Why did Joelette take that from him? She told me a thing or two today and I didn't do anything.” Mansir let the legs of the chair drop with a thud on the boat's hard floor.

  “For a big tall man, you don't see above the trees too well, do you? She didn’t love Otis.” Possum turned the pillows on the sofa, with the sleeve of his shirt, dusted the end table.

  “If you think I haven't noticed all the primping you’re doing to this room, you must think I'm stupid. My sister is coming for dinner, not the Queen of England.” Mansir grinned at his flustered friend.

  “Me, I don't have a lot of visitors on my boat, not one of her class. Stop giving me a hard time. Speaking of time, let me change my shirt and turn the meat off.

  “You don't have to put on airs for Sara. She's not like that. Sara sees past all of the finery and gets to the heart of the matter. Just be you, my friend.”

  “That's what I'm afraid of, Mansir. I'm always me and look where it has gotten this ole Frenchman.” Possum buttoned his clean starched and ironed shirt, cocked his hat on his head and headed for the door.

  “I've never seen you like this before, Possum. You're really smitten aren't you?” Mansir smiled. He didn’t know if Sara would be interested, but he’d certainly approve of them as a couple. Possum was a great guy. “Well, go for it. You'll never know if you don't go for it, right?” Mansir slapped Possum on the back then rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about how to make a woman sit up and take notice. I'll keep my eye on you tonight for my first lesson.”

  ###

  “I don't want to hear about what the two of you did right now. I'm very upset and I think it’s time you just went to bed. I'll be in a little while to talk to both of you.” Joelette gently shoved the sad boys off to their room.

  MaeMae flitted around the kitchen threw open cabinets and searched through their contents. “I can't believe I misplaced something so large. I must be getting senile.” She said to no one in particular.

  “What are you stomping around the kitchen looking for?” Joelette asked.

  “My bean jar. Tomorrow night is Bourré, and I thought I would busy myself by arranging my beans in the box Mansir made me. You know Mrs. Broussard is going to join us. She needs friends and we need another person. We've all heard each other's stories so many times we forget they are not ours.” MaeMae stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Where do you think I put that jar?”

  “Okay, MaeMae. Let's think. Maybe you moved it while we were packing for the storm. We were all so rushed. Or maybe the boys were playing with them. They know better, but they also knew better then to sneak off like they did earlier today. Come with me, I think we need to get to the bottom of this day or none of us will sleep tonight.” Joelette opened the boy's bedroom door.

  Joelette sat on Ozamae's bed and motioned for MaeMae to sit on T-Boy's. Ozamae had been crying again and T-Boy wouldn't look at her. “Okay what's going on? Have you two been playing with MaeMae’s beans?”

  “Now you want us to talk,” T-Boy said with tears welling up in his eyes. “We've been trying to tell you all day what happened, but you're so mad, you won't listen. You won’t listen to anyone.”

  He was right. She hadn’t listened. To anyone, not even to her own instinct that had screamed that none of any of this made any sense. She took a deep breath.

  “We wanted to help,” Ozamae wailed.

  “And we did, too. Until you messed things up,” T-Boy mut
tered.

  She tried to pull Ozamae to her, but he pushed her away.

  “You never act like this. Please tell me what's going on?” Joelette asked.

  “We heard what you said, so we fixed it,” Ozamae said in between sniffles. “But then you ruined everything. You sent him away.”

  “Start at the beginning, baby. T-Boy, you fill in what he might leave out.” Joelette held Ozamae's hand in hers, hoping to give him confidence.

  “You said the reason Mansir left was because we didn't have money and he wanted money, so we brought him all we had,” Ozamae said.

  “But you were all wrong, Mom. He didn't want our money. He just wants us. You were wrong.”

  Joelette felt her world spin. “What money?” Oh, what had she done?

  “It's all there, on the porch. I saw Mansir put it down when you started saying all those mean things to him, Mom. Do you want me to go get the bag?” T-Boy offered.

  “Please. Then I need to hear more.” Joelette kissed Ozamae's small hands. What had she done? In order to protect her family and her foolish pride, she had hurt them much more than Mansir ever did.

  T-Boy returned with the paper bag and set it in Joelette's lap. Removing the rubber band, she poured the contents on the bed.

  MaeMae gasped. “Oh, Cher. Look what they did.”

  Guilt tore into her chest and tears streamed down her cheeks. Staring at the small piggy bank in her hands, she wiped her face with the hem of her dress and put Ozamae’s bank on his nightstand.

  MaeMae reached over and took the jar of beans from Joelette. She bent over and kissed both of her grandsons. “I love you two. Tomorrow I make Pain Perdue for two very brave little boys.” MaeMae hurried out the room.

  “Joelette handed T-Boy his bag of dimes and put her money back in the bag. We'll talk tomorrow. I know I need to apologize to Mansir. But don't get your hopes up about him coming back. This involves a lot of grown up stuff. I'm so sorry. Your hearts were in the right place. You just went about it the wrong way. I love both of you so much and you make me proud every day.” Joelette kissed and hugged Ozamae and T-Boy and turned out their light.

  “Give him a chance, mom. His heart's in the right place, too,” T-Boy said.

  Such wisdom from such a small boy. He was right. She’d been a fool and she’d certainly made a mess of things. Now she could only pray that Mansir would forgive her silliness and her distrust.

  ###

  “That was an incredible meal. Are you sure you cooked all of this?” Sara asked pushing her plate back.

  “I'm a man of many talents. Just ask your brother.” Possum squirmed in his seat. “Ask him. He will tell you the way I handle a shrimp net and know the name of all the creatures of the water.”

  “Possum, you have to let the lady know what kind of man you are by yourself. Don't get me involved.” The apparent discomfort Possum was going through amused Mansir. “You don't have to convince anyone you can cook, this was a great meal. Surprised me.”

  Mansir stood up and stretched to the full height of the houseboat, bumping his head. “Why don't we go sit on the deck awhile? There's more room and beside there's a lot of hot air in here.”

  “Go ahead, Raymond and I are going to clean up this mess.” Picking up the dishes, she smiled. “I've never thought of mixing different patterns of plates before, it makes a interesting table setting.”

  “I never thought of buying dishes that match. These seem to meet my needs. I bought one at a garage sale and the rest at a store going out of business. I just picked up the ones I thought were pretty.” He grinned. “I don't do a lot of entertaining. Maybe if I did, I would find matching plates, qui?”

  Mansir left the two of them discussing dishes and sat on the deck of the houseboat and looked at the stars. What was she doing tonight? He wanted to go to her, make her understand. But this time she’s the one who would have to come to him. He’d laid his hand on the table, she’d seen his cards, what he had to offer, it was up to her to accept.

  She’d been hurt in the past, he knew that, but he thought he’d done everything to prove to her that he was different from the other men in her life.

  “Talking to the stars or the man in the moon?” Sara stood behind him, stooped down and put her arms around his neck. “You've had a horrible day, hon. I couldn't believe all that you and Raymond told me happened today.”

  “Speaking of Possum, where is he?” Mansir asked.

  “He ran me out of the kitchen. Said that the next time I could cook and clean the kitchen. I didn't have the heart to tell him I can't even boil water.” She laughed.

  “Sit down and tell me about the Art Institute. You haven't said much about what you found out,” Mansir asked. Maybe Sara’s news would take his mind off of Joelette, if only for a few minutes.

  “The Institute's the most awesome place I've ever seen. Students walk around with portfolios of their work. I visited with admissions and I have paper work to fill out, and they want to see some of my work before the decision is made.”

  “Do you have work to show them, Sara?”

  “No. I haven't worked on anything in a very long time. I never thought this was a possibility until now. I still can't believe I have a chance to fulfill my dream. Thank you, William.” Sara kissed him on the cheek. “I seem to recall Possum calling you Mansir. Have they forgotten your real name?”

  “Mansir is my name Sara. It is who I am. For those long months not knowing who I was, all I wanted was to remember my name. But Ozamae had named me Mansir.” He smiled. “I never knew how much it fit me until I knew I wanted to make this my home. Besides, if I'm going to live in Louisiana, I have to have a nickname. William is still my legal name but it doesn’t fit me anymore. Make sense?”

  “Yes, it does, Mansir. You have changed and I like the new you a great deal. You really know what you want, don't you?”

  “You bet I do. Hopefully a certain stubborn woman will see the truth and tomorrow we can start our new life together,” he said.

  “Raymond invited us to sleep here tonight if that's all right with you. Tomorrow, I'll rent us another hotel room.

  “MaeMae once told me women didn't like house boats much, so if we need to try to get a room tonight, we will,” he said.

  “Nonsense. I think this house is about as charming as you could find. I would love to stay here,” Sara said.

  “Is this a private conversation or can I join?” Possum leaned against the screen door with a dishtowel in his hand.

  “Nope, not private, I was about to ask my brother if he would take me to a art store tomorrow to purchase some supplies,” Sara said.

  “I know a store like that, I think. But if I don't, I can find out fast. I can bring you.” Possum chimed in.

  “Great. I want to get drawing as soon as possible. All of this is inspiring and I want to put it all to paper.”

  Possum pulled up a chair and sat between Mansir and Sara.

  “This is a beautiful night, is it not? Yes sir, a beautiful night.” Possum leaned back in his chair smiled at his friend and winked at Sara. “Sara, you may stay as long as you wish. I will cook for you. You won't have to lift a finger on your artistic hand. You will find much to draw on Possum's boat. I will treat you like a queen.”

  Shaking his head, he nudged Sara. “Now look what you've done. Possum will be unbearable to live with from now on,” Mansir said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Joelette found MaeMae on the porch in her beloved chair with her comforting companion held firmly between her teeth.

  “Are they asleep?”

  Joelette smiled. “Yes, I think they have been through quite the ordeal.” And she felt the blame for much of it. Blinded by her mistrust and pride.

  “Much has to be done to heal, Joelette. Things need to be said and secrets shared. Pride needs to go by the way side.” Taking a puff, MaeMae's gaze appeared to steal a look into the future.

  Joelette watched the smoke curl toward the sky.

/>   “I've tried to heal people and animal hurts for many years but I've felt so helpless not being able to help the very people I love. My beloved husband, my only son, and you, Cher, my head aches trying to think of ways to make you trust more. But you are a very stubborn woman who, is very distrustful of others. And without trust, no one can help you, not even yourself.”

  Joelette felt a lump form in her throat once again as it had so many times over the last couple of days.”

  “I'm not denying that you have been treated badly, especially by my Otis. But know this, Joelette. He came by his evil ways naturally. It is true that the acorn does not fall far from the oak tree.”

  “What are you talking about, MaeMae? Otis could not have come from two better people. The short time I knew Bennie, I thought him to be the most lovable man I'd ever known. And you. Who in their right mind would not trust you with their very life?” Joelette's voice shook as she spoke. “Don't you dare blame yourself for the hell Otis put me through.”

  “Sit back, Cher, and listen to a story I have to tell.” MaeMae lit her pipe that had gone out and puffed to get it started again.

  Not one of MaeMae's stories. Some took hours to tell and she needed to talk over the last few days.

  “Don't look so irritated, Joelette,” MaeMae said with a grin. “This is a story you need to hear. It won't take long. I promise.”

  Joelette nodded.

  “I've never told this to another soul. Not even my mother, God rest her soul. She went to her grave not knowing the truth. I knew a very young girl who fell in love with a very handsome young man. Never had the girl known anyone like him. He came to visit a cousin that lived down the road, and swept her off her feet. This girl didn't have the beauty you possess, but was rather plain. He gave her her first kiss, a kiss between a man and a woman. He told her she was beautiful and that he loved her.” MaeMae put her pipe out and stared at the bayou.

  “He gave her a present that he said represented the best of him, his child. Finding herself pregnant, the girl went to her love and he gave her a ring from a dime store and a promise of marriage. So she went home, packed a bag and waited for him to come, but he never did.”