A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5)

by Claire, Cherie

  Amanda was surprised that she passed the initiation so quickly, and decided it was best to act on it. Pierre wasn’t as certain as his older brother, but followed Amanda nonetheless. Walking single file, the trio made their way down a narrow, dirt path to the banks of the sleepy Bayou Teche.

  “This is where we go fishing,” Alexandre explained. “We catch a lot of big alligators.”

  Amanda widened her eyes. “Really?” she played along. “How big?”

  “Big,” the younger boy chimed in, holding his arms up from his sides as far as they would go.

  “Will you show me? I want to catch an alligator too.”

  When neither one answered, Amanda figured she had spoken the wrong words. But the guilty looks that spread across their faces betrayed their lie.

  “Actually,” Amanda said, breaking the silence and getting them off the hook, “I could use your help in another way.” The boys seemed genuinely interested. “The last time I spoke French I was about your age,” she said, pointing to Alexandre.

  The older boy laughed. “Is that why you talk so funny?”

  “Oui,” Amanda said, instantly worried she had used a previous word in the wrong context. She began to understand their meaning when they imitated her French equivalent of “yes.”

  “How do you say it?” she asked when they were done making fun of her. The boys recited their version of oui in a more relaxed, informal pronunciation.

  “Merci beaucoup,” she said, and the boys again began to laugh.

  “Now what?”

  “You sound like a Creole,” Alexandre said.

  Amanda knew he was referring to the colonists of French descent born in Louisiana, particularly New Orleans. They had immigrated to Louisiana directly from France and their French resembled what was currently being spoken in France, as opposed to the Acadians who had been separated by an ocean for approximately two hundred years. She imagined the differences were comparable to American and British speech patterns. English dialects were evolving into a host of unusual accents on the American side of the Atlantic.

  “All right,” Amanda agreed in English, then attempted to imitate their accent in French.

  The boys giggled, then Alexandre took her hand urging her to join him as he sat on the ground. Amanda made herself comfortable next to the base of an oak tree, listening to her new teachers. Watching the boys eagerly share their knowledge with an adult, Amanda realized two important things: children’s French was a lot easier to understand, and her heart was beginning to feel immensely lighter.

  After an hour of language lessons, Teche exploration and then the meticulous instruction of how to catch crawfish, the boys lay down and almost instantaneously drifted off to sleep. When Colette found them lying peacefully on the banks of the slow moving bayou, she stared at Amanda in surprise. Amanda raised her shoulders as if to say she was as surprised as Colette to see the two consistently active children sound asleep. Colette sat down by Amanda and sighed. A look of contentment stole across her face as she took Amanda’s hand and said, “Merci.”

  Amanda smiled back, thankful for the warm, friendly feel of the older woman’s hand in hers. “La Teche est belle,” Amanda said slowly in her simple French, remarking on the beauty of the bayou.

  Colette squeezed her hand and nodded. “Oui, la Teche est belle.”

  After the boys awakened, the group headed back for the house, amazed to find the sun close to the western horizon. None of the men had returned from the racetrack and dusk was approaching. Amanda changed into dinner clothes and Colette resumed her duties in the kitchen, applying the finishing touches to a gumbo. By the time the boys washed themselves up and Amanda made it downstairs to set the table, darkness had settled.

  Amanda and Colette had been too busy to light all the lamps before darkness came and a hungry swarm of mosquitoes buzzed in the shadowy, damp corners of the house, picking at everyone’s feet whenever they chanced by. The insects became so disruptive, Colette was forced to close all the dining room windows, once the invading pests were extinguished, raising the inside temperature considerably.

  The intense heat failed to dispel the happy mood among the children, however. They were both excited over the new company and that the half dozen crawfish they dug up at the bayou’s edge had made it into Colette’s prized gumbo. To encourage their gaiety, Amanda placed the discarded crawfish heads on her fingers. When Pierre or Alexandre let down their guard, she thrust the mudbugs at them, their beady red eyes bulging from her fingertips. Both boys squealed with delight.

  Colette proudly produced a cauldron of thick brown gumbo filled with a collection of seafood and okra. The boys cheered when she made her entrance, demanding to see the crawfish tails Colette had added to the soup. In a few moments, everyone was happily talking at once.

  Almost silently, T-Emile entered through the back door and motioned to his mother. The shy boy held his hat tightly in his hands while he passed on some information, looking up every once and a while as if fearing a reprisal from Colette. His mother said nothing, but appeared disappointed at the news. Finally she shrugged her shoulders, said a few words to T-Emile and began dishing out the gumbo.

  Turning toward Amanda, she explained that a horse had damaged part of the stables and everyone was needed to repair the stalls. The men would not be home in time for dinner. Colette peered up at her curiously, as if hoping her words had made sense. Amazingly, they did.

  “Je comprend,” Amanda answered.

  As Colette handed T-Emile gumbo to bring to the men, Amanda found herself disappointed that René would not return. She had looked forward to the evening, waiting anxiously to taste Colette’s special dinner in honor of her arrival and for the chance to talk to her new husband.

  The news of the men working late cast a gloom over dinner. Colette was clearly disappointed after spending the entire afternoon working on the gumbo. Amanda complimented Colette numerous times and asked for two second helpings, but her attention failed to lighten the mood. After everyone finished eating, they quickly brought the plates to the outside kitchen, glad to escape the sweltering heat.

  The boys took turns playing some sort of game in the dirt while Colette busily washed the dishes. Again, she refused to let Amanda help, so Amanda took one of the lanterns and retired to her bedroom.

  The night became ominously still, refusing so much as a whisper of a breeze, and the pesky insects invaded her bedroom. As fast as she could, Amanda changed into her nightdress, grabbed one of René’s books by the bedside and crawled under the sanctuary of the mosquito net. The entire bed was covered with the cotton netting, and Amanda tucked in the edges so as not to leave even an inch of bedding vulnerable. Mosquitoes were tenacious creatures.

  Amanda was thankful the book she grabbed was written in English, even if it was a copy of the Louisiana State Constitution. At the back, past the legal jargon, were descriptions of Louisiana cities and towns. Amanda passed the time reading about the early inhabitants of New Orleans, and how three nationalities had governed the city for more than one hundred years — the French, then the Spanish, then the French again briefly before selling it, along with the rest of the territory, to the United States for fifteen million dollars.

  After a while, Amanda heard Colette sending the boys off to the attic. The roof reverberated with their activity for several minutes, then quieted down. Amanda could hear Colette singing them C’est la Petite Poulé Caille, a lullaby her French nanny used to sing that meant “The Little Spotted Hen.” The soft, sleepy strains brought back waves of nostalgia for her home in New Orleans with her mother.

  After Colette had entered her own room and shut the door, all Amanda could hear were the bullfrogs and crickets outside her window. Everything remained startlingly foreign to Amanda, even though the children and Colette had made her feel quite at home. Thoughts of all the people she had angered, the man she had nearly married, and the friend who had taken her in fought for possession of her mind. Many times she had to remind
herself to breathe, to try to dispel the anxiety choking her at every turn.

  One thought managed to break through, however, like a ray of sunshine during a violent Louisiana summer thunderstorm. Could it be possible René had feelings for her?

  Nonsense, she answered herself, remembering the casual talks they shared at the fence every morning during the past two weeks. Conversations between acquaintances. When he had proposed that horrible evening in Port Cocodrie, he had reminded her they were friends. Friends. Not lovers.

  As clearly as if she stood once again in her father’s garden, she could picture René strolling down her street, his unusual wide-brimmed hat framing his smiling face. Every morning the same reaction had occurred within her. René literally took her breath away.

  Why was that, she wondered? Why did he have such an effect on her? Was that what friendship was all about, or was she too naive to realize he had feelings for her and had been flirting all this time?

  Amanda didn’t care what René’s intentions were. She was fortunate the man called her his friend, fortunate she felt the same.

  Just as she was about to let the nighttime sounds lull her to sleep, a knock came at the door. She instantly sat up, clutching the hand-woven cotton sheet to her bosom. “Who is it?” she whispered.

  “It’s me, René. I wanted to know how you are.”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered, her heart beating faster at the sound of his accented voice. “Please, come in.”

  René entered the room, gingerly making his way to the bed. All was pitch black except for the bedside light. When he made it to Amanda’s side, it was clear what kind of a night he had. His shirt was torn and his face smeared with dirt and sweat.

  “I’m sorry about dinner,” René began. “I wanted to be here, to be with you on your first night in my house. Was everything well? Did Colette show you where everything is?”

  “I’m fine. Colette was wonderful.”

  René brightened. “I was hoping she would be. Colette has been known to give a butcher some words, but she is a great one for hospitality.”

  “She has been very sweet, but I do wish you would talk to her and convince her to let me help out with the household chores.”

  René laughed and he slapped a mosquito away from his cheek. “That would be like convincing the British to apologize. Colette came to live with us after her husband, Emile, died. We were glad to take her in, but she insists on not being labeled a burden. She refuses to let us do anything around here. As you can see, the house is always meticulous. That is the right English word, meticulous?”

  “Yes,” Amanda answered, “like the French word.”

  René gave Amanda a curious look, then glanced over to the side table. “Do you mind if I clean up with your water? My meticulous cousin forgot to leave me some.”

  “Of course.”

  It was difficult to make him out after René left the light of the bedside, but Amanda could hear water being poured from a pitcher and a bureau drawer opening and closing. After what sounded like a piece of clothing hitting the floor, Amanda heard René splash water on his face, then sigh.

  “You must be tired,” she said, trying to imagine what a man would look like at his toilette. The image, she discovered with amazement, both scared and enticed her.

  What if he wants to bed me, she thought. Is that why he’s here, alone with me in his room?

  “These mosquitoes are unbearable tonight,” René said through the darkness.

  “I’m sorry. I would have shut the windows but it is so insufferably hot in here.”

  “Merde,” René said after Amanda heard a hard slap.

  “You better get under a mosquito net,” Amanda said, hoping he would get the hint and retire to his own bedroom. But this is his bedroom, she reminded herself.

  Without warning, René lifted the netting and quickly crawled on to the bed. Amanda gazed up to find her tall husband sitting across from her bare-chested. In his hands was a clean nightshirt, but her eyes rested instead on the soft brown hair gracing the wide expanse of muscled chest and the broad, damp shoulders gleaming in the lantern’s candlelight. She had never seen a man half naked before, and René Comeaux was quite a sight. To Amanda’s horror, she felt her jaw drop against her will.

  René must have realized his mistake, for he instantly pulled on the shirt. Amanda sought to regain her composure, but she felt like a fool. If only her mother had been around to tell her what to do on her wedding night. She hadn’t the slightest idea.

  “I’m sorry,” René said. “I should let you sleep. I only wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Amanda attempted to meet René’s eyes, but got only as far as the opening of his nightshirt. Brown hair peeked through his collar and Amanda was shocked to discover she longed to run her fingers through it.

  “I wanted to talk to you too,” she said, amazed at her boldness. She had convinced herself earlier she would not talk about the subject unless René brought it up first. “I fear I have inconvenienced you,” she began.

  René stared at her curiously. As much as Amanda longed to gaze into those trusting eyes, she chose to stare at her hands instead.

  “Inconvenienced me? In what way?”

  “This is your bedroom, is it not?” Amanda answered softly. “And is this not your bed that you must share with your wife?”

  René seemed to grasp her meaning, leaning back slowly on to one elbow. “I told you before, chèrie, I will not expect anything from you unless you are ready. You are in a new house, a new situation. You must get accustomed to all this.” Quietly, he added, “And to me.”

  This time, Amanda looked up. “But it is my duty as a wife,” she practically whispered, still clutching the sheet to her chest.

  René sat up abruptly. He was so close Amanda could smell the scent of soap about him. “I don’t want your love unless you give it to me freely and honestly,” he said, staring intently into her eyes. “I don’t want you to make love to me because you feel it is your duty or out of gratitude. Do you understand?”

  Amanda simply nodded, and René read the relief that spread across her face. “But I thought husbands went crazy if they didn’t sleep with their wives,” she said softly, as if ashamed to be speaking of such intimate thoughts.

  René laughed at her naiveté. “I promise I won’t go crazy,” he said, inwardly doubting his words. Ever since he had entered the room and seen Amanda’s body moist with perspiration underneath a thin, cotton nightgown, his pulse had indeed gone mad. Holding her hands and gazing down upon her head of delicate blonde curls was tortuous. How many nights had he dreamed of her lying in his bed? Yet, here she was, ready and willing, and he had to be the gentleman of restraint.

  Suddenly, René felt extremely tired. The lack of sleep and the extra work at the racetrack were getting the best of him. Sighing, he released Amanda’s hands and leaned down toward the pillows. He would rest his head for a moment, tell her his thoughts and be on his way.

  “I have an idea,” he began, slowly stretching his legs the length of the bed. “I think I know a way you can smooth things over with your father.”

  Amanda still clutched the sheet, but relaxed and fell back against her pillows. They were now eye to eye, and René could smell the lilac water she used to wash her face. He looked away and forced himself to concentrate on the plan he envisioned during the afternoon break in the races. “Is there a time of day that you and your father always spend together?”

  “We always had lunch together.” Amanda slipped even further into her pillow.

  “I think you should continue. Go to your house every day for lunch, like nothing has happened.”

  “But my father is furious. I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

  René turned and gazed into her azure eyes that were now so irresistibly close. “But that’s the point. He may be furious, but he will slowly get used to the fact that nothing has changed. You’re still his daughter, despite who you married, and
you will still spend lunches and special occasions with him like before. After a while, it will seem like nothing has happened between you. Perhaps then he will be calm enough to talk to.”

  Amanda appeared lost in thought, her eyes reflecting the subdued candlelight. The nearness of her beauty overwhelmed him, and René shut his eyes to ease the pain of his wanting. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

  A Cajun Dream

  Chapter Five

  No matter how little sleep he managed the night before, René awoke every morning shortly before sunrise. His mother had labeled him le guime, or the rooster, as a child. Ever since he was old enough to walk he would leap out of bed, ready to take on the world.

  As usual, René’s internal clock nudged him awake before the early rays of sunlight edged over the eastern horizon. This morning, however, after two days of non-stop activity, his tired, aching muscles gave him reason to wish the world would wait.

  Since he had lost a full day of work traveling back from Port Cocodrie with his new wife, then spending the afternoon riding to the Richardson’s house for a dose of verbal torture from the Judge, René had missed most of his daily chores at the racetrack. T-Emile had been good enough to exercise the horses and feed them, but several of his clients were unhappy they had missed a day of racing. They were literally lined up the next day ready to make use of the track when René arrived at daybreak, and some were still waiting to race their horses when dusk fell. Then, the LeBlanc horse had been spooked by a king snake and knocked down a wall and damaged two stalls in his fright. The men had worked consistently from sunset till nine o’clock repairing the damage.

  And he never found time to speak to Alcée about his trip to town to obtain news of Henry Tanner.

  René moved to rise when he heard a soft moan at his side. Glancing over, he suddenly remembered talking to Amanda the night before. Had he fallen asleep in the bed with her? He did recall feeling incredibly tired, as if a wave of exhaustion had instantly overtaken him.