A Cajun Dream (The Cajun Series Book 5)

by Claire, Cherie

Alcée shot up a hand to silence the usually silent young man. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s not his fault,” Amanda insisted, looking up at the group. “Tell him it’s not his fault.”

  “What’s not his fault?” René asked.

  “That my father got so mad. Tell him it was me he was furious with, not T-Emile.”

  “Why was he so mad?” Alcée asked.

  “We were singing a song and my father hates to hear French being spoken, especially in his house. He forbids it.”

  “You invited T-Emile into your house?” René inquired incredulously.

  Amanda stared at her husband as if the question was absurd. “Of course I did. You don’t think I’d let my family sit out in the hot Louisiana sun like a hired hand.”

  A Cajun Dream

  Chapter Eight

  The men said nothing at her comment, but Amanda felt a shift occur in the tension that had surrounded them for the past few days. It reminded her of the aftermath of a thunderclap, when a lightning bolt released the friction tingling in the air. As if a storm had indeed blown over the group, they all immediately brightened. René wrapped an arm about Amanda’s shoulders and gingerly pulled her close. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”

  Amanda quickly related the course of events, then insisted they explain to T-Emile that it wasn’t his fault. Alcée reassured T-Emile in French, and suggested the teen unhitch the carriage. T-Emile reluctantly moved away.

  “He doesn’t believe you,” Amanda said. “If I have hurt that boy, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Alcée stood up and pensively rubbed his cheek. He turned back toward Amanda and casually placed a foot on the bench beside her. Leaning an elbow on his knee, he incredulously asked Amanda, “You asked T-Emile into your house?”

  Amanda couldn’t fathom what had occurred when he spoke the innocent question, but the two men started laughing uproariously. When Alcée glanced over at René, they began howling.

  “What is so funny?” Amanda stared, amazed they could deem such a horrific afternoon as humorous.

  René straightened a bit and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, my dear. You’re right, this isn’t funny.”

  “Perhaps you should go over to the Richardson house,” Alcée said to René, a smirk creasing the sides of his lips. “Give the ole Judge a piece of your mind.”

  “Yes, of course,” René answered. “I’ll not stand for my family being kicked out of his home three times in one week. Twice is the Comeaux limit.”

  The two men began to laugh again, René leaning over and holding his sides as if his ribs were about to burst out. Amanda could only sit and stare.

  “I can’t believe you two. That poor boy was almost in tears. My father scared him half out of his wits.”

  René glanced up and shook his head knowingly. “Yes, I’m sure he did.”

  Their humorous assessment of the situation lightened Amanda’s mood, but she did not feel like laughing. She was still shaking from her earlier confrontation.

  “Tell me,” René asked Amanda with an affectionate touch to her chin. “Did all this happen in that cheerful office of his?”

  Images of Amanda ripping the curtains open returned. She had never shown such rebelliousness toward her father. Her act of courage after years of unappreciated obedience made her smile slightly.

  “Bon,” Alcée said with a slap to his knee. “You’re beginning to relax. This is good.”

  “I still don’t see the humor in all this,” she said, returning to her previous glum state. “My father being extremely rude to you is not a funny matter.”

  “Everything can be a funny matter,” Alcée said. “You have to laugh at life or life will laugh at you.”

  “Your father has a right to be mad at all of us,” René added, still smiling. “He kicks me out of his house, then I return a few days later married to his only daughter. The next thing he knows, there are Frenchmen singing in his front parlor.”

  The men started up again, but Amanda instead focused on René’s comment. “You had words with my father before Saturday?”

  René stopped smiling, rose and anxiously stared at first Amanda, then Alcée. If she wasn’t mistaken, he appeared perplexed by something she said.

  “How about some coffee?” Alcée interrupted as if on his nephew’s behalf. “After what I’ve seen the last few days I’d say you’d welcome a nice cup of cafe au lait. Am I right, Amanda?”

  Amanda thought of the Market and René’s mention of her father. René had said her father had called him an immigrant. When a silence fell over the group, Amanda realized Alcée had asked her a question. She also noticed René refusing to meet her eyes. “What?”

  “Coffee?” Alcée repeated.

  “Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Good, then let us go rescue Colette from her heathen children and have some refreshments near the bayou.”

  “There is work to be done,” René said quietly. “You all go on ahead without me.”

  Although Alcée stood in René’s shadow, he suddenly appeared to tower over his nephew. “Your wife just had a trying afternoon and you’re going to work?” he angrily asked René in French.

  “There’s a race in twenty minutes,” René shot back. “Who’s going to run it, T-Emile?”

  “I don’t care if the governor himself wants to race this afternoon, you will come with us to the house.”

  René gritted his teeth. Amanda could tell they were debating an old, painful subject. “This is not about a race, Alcée. This is about a business. I can’t be known around this town as a man who doesn’t run a consistent...”

  “To hell with being consistent. It’s the peak of summer. We shouldn’t be running horses in this heat anyway. Cancel the race and tend to your wife.”

  Amanda agreed with Alcée that René worked too hard. During the previous days, she had seen less of René than she had standing at the fence of her father’s house. She sensed he felt compelled to prove himself worthy of entertaining his American wife in style.

  At the same time, Amanda admired René’s drive and ambition. René possessed a natural-born ability to deal effectively with people — all kinds. He spoke English effortlessly, so was able to amiably converse with Americans. Most of the Acadians Amanda had witnessed at the track seemed equally impressed. René always greeted everyone with a smile and a handshake, and they, in turn, appeared mesmerized by the personable man, drawn to his sparkling personality like a moth to an oil lamp.

  Amanda also noticed that René had acquired an uncanny inner sense about people. In conversations — particularly with men shorter than himself, which was the majority of the town — he would prop a boot against a nearby stump or bench and lean down slightly when speaking. People felt that René was talking to them on their level, and his closeness assured them he was listening intently to their every word. She recognized that secret from her years of working the campaign trail with her father.

  René was a politician of sorts, Amanda thought. But the one thing that placed him head and shoulders above the rest was that he was sincere.

  “Why don’t René and I stay and help T-Emile with the race,” Amanda suggested. “I’d feel better if I knew the boy was all right. Then, perhaps, you and Colette could bring us some coffee later or keep it warm until we arrive.”

  Alcée sighed. “You understand quite a bit, don’t you Miss Richardson?”

  Amanda rose and snaked her arm through René’s so it rested in the crook of his elbow. “The name’s Comeaux, Monsieur Dugas, or haven’t you heard that I scandalously eloped with the Cajun racetrack owner.”

  When the smile forced itself free on to Amanda’s face, the two men quickly joined her. René picked up her hand resting on his arm and gently kissed her fingers. The thunderclap had done its damage, Amanda surmised, now the sun had begun to shine.

  “I’d like my cup with plenty of sugar and cream, s’il tu plait,” Amanda added with a sly grin.

&nbs
p; Alcée bowed. “For you, Madame Comeaux, anything.”

  The afternoon seemed to rush by, for which Amanda was grateful; it meant less time to ponder the angry conversation she had earlier shared with her father. She knew she must consider her actions, but for now she wanted to revel in the playful mood prevailing over the track.

  René seemed infinitely happier. He joked with his two friends who used the track, and teased Wayne Baldwin on his “perfect” horse when he arrived to race her. His lighthearted mood was infectious; even T-Emile began to smile again.

  After Wayne raced Mary’s Blessing against Tom Glenn’s Blue Darling, and came out a clear winner, the two Acadians asked to make a quick run down the track. “Of course,” René answered. “As long as Mr. Baldwin is finished.”

  “Sure,” Wayne called back from atop his horse. “How much winning can a man do in one week?”

  Boudreaux and Thibodeaux mounted their Creole ponies and approached the starting line. René handed Amanda the flag. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  René slipped his arm around her waist from behind, drawing her hand with the flag upward. “You wave it down, with a quick motion like this.” René imitated the starting signal, then backed away. “Your turn.”

  Amanda swallowed, planted her feet firmly apart and raised her arm in the air. When she pulled the flag down, the horses jolted into action and headed down the long, narrow lane. René effortlessly pulled her back before they passed, landing her against his chest, his strong arms holding her close.

  For those few moments while they watched the horses approach the distant finish line, Amanda settled back into René’s embrace, enjoying the close comfort of her husband’s arms. As the dust from the horse’s hooves twirled around them, she felt as if she belonged there.

  “Having fun?” René asked.

  Amanda smiled and turned to look at him, his familiar sparkling eyes beaming from beneath his white planter’s hat. “Yes, I am.”

  Suddenly, René’s smile disappeared. While his hand softly stroked Amanda’s flushed cheek, a pensive look crossed his face.

  “What is it?”

  “I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said solemnly. “Not after what you spoke of last night.”

  “I’m sorry, René. I certainly didn’t mean to insult you. But I thought you had a right to leave the marriage if you wished. I just wanted you to know that an annulment was possible.”

  “And that your father was happy to pay me to accept one,” René said, his anger of the subject apparent.

  The familiar guilt returned. After everything he had done for her, she shouldn’t be questioning his motives for marrying her. Still, Amanda had a right to know what kind of a man she married.

  “My father wants me home again. He’ll do anything to achieve that. You said it yourself, he has a right to be upset.”

  René stared hard at Amanda, his humor gone. “You were testing me, weren’t you?”

  “Can you blame me? I made a bad judgment with a man before.”

  René thrust his hands upon his hips so suddenly it caused Amanda to jump. “If you are comparing me to Henry Tanner then I think I would like an annulment.”

  “Of course, I’m not comparing you to, to ... him.” Amanda closed her eyes to dispel the thought of Henry Tanner and that awful night. She couldn’t bear remembering anything about the horrid man. “Please, forgive me,” she continued. “I honestly only wanted to free you of me if you so wished it.”

  “I don’t wish it.”

  The quickness with which René answered caused Amanda’s heart to still. She eagerly searched his eyes for affection, hoping he did care after all. Why, she wondered, was she so worried he might want an annulment. Only days earlier she had longed to return to her old life. Now, she anxiously awaited the hours when she would see him again, disappointed, as she had been that morning, when other responsibilities kept her from visiting him at the track. If it hadn’t been for Widow Pitre’s neighborly visit that morning, she would have brought René his breakfast and reassured him she had not returned to her father.

  René continued staring unemotionally, making it impossible to read his thoughts. Amanda couldn’t help wonder if pride was the reason he remained married, and nothing else. If only she could fathom why she wished to remain married to him.

  “What do you want, Amanda?” René finally asked.

  The afternoon hour positioned the sun directly in Amanda’s line of vision. The harsh rays pierced her forehead and blinded her eyes while perspiration gathered on her upper lip and trickled down the center of her bodice. “I wish for autumn to arrive soon.”

  René thrust his fingers through his hair and inwardly prayed that God would end his agony soon. It would all be so simple if Amanda loved him in return, but life was never simple. He knew from the very beginning she was not in love with him. What did he expect, that she would fall in love within a few days time? It may never happen, he commanded himself, so get used to the idea.

  Leading her by the elbow toward the shelter of a nearby live oak tree, René sighed and asked, “Where is your bonnet?”

  “I must have left it at my father’s house.” Amanda leaned into the comfort of the tree’s shadow.

  “You should never be without a hat in this heat. You could get...”

  “Une tete rouge?”

  René stared down at his wife, who coyly smiled up at him. She appeared so small and helpless, so petite and naive. Yet, when she began to assert herself, she beamed with an inner strength. “You’re making a joke, no?”

  Amanda frowned. “Of course, I am. I’m not funny, no?”

  René couldn’t help but grin at her foolish attempt at humor. Amanda was a fountain of surprises. “Who told you about my sunburn?”

  A look of feigned ignorance crossed Amanda’s face. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Laugh at life or life will laugh at you, René thought as he smiled down at his wife. Alcée had suffered the anguish of a broken heart and learned to smile again. René at least was married to the woman of his dreams. He had a lot to be thankful for.

  So why did his heart continue to ache so?

  “Come,” he said, briefly closing his eyes to shut out the thought and the unrelenting pain. “Let’s go home and have some cafe au lait.”

  The two walked back through the palmetto thicket and field of maturing sugar cane in silence. When the small path opened into the larger cow pasture, René joined Amanda by her side.

  “May I be honest with you?” Amanda asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I honestly don’t know what I want. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted last Saturday, but I was wrong. Now, I only know that I don’t want to go back.”

  It wasn’t the explanation René had hoped for, but she appeared willing to stay. It would have to do for now. “You are always welcome here.”

  The two continued on without speaking until they came in sight of the house. Colette greeted them nervously on the back gallery. “Something has arrived,” she announced, twisting her apron anxiously in her hands.

  René and Amanda rushed into the living room where Alcée stood, coffee in hand, staring at a magnificent piano.

  “Your father sent it over. The men who delivered it said your father insisted you not be without your music.”

  The piano was a bad omen, René assessed. Her father was indeed furious. He was expelling his daughter from his home and life.

  “I’m sorry,” René began, placing a comforting hand on Amanda’s shoulders. Instead of finding her glum, however, Amanda grinned.

  “He’s relenting.”

  Before René could find time to ask how she came to that conclusion, Amanda crossed the floor and sat down on the piano’s bench. She first tested the keys, then began to play a soft sonata.

  “Well,” Alcée said with a sly grin, “it’s nice to see I’m not the only gifted one in this house.”

  René sat next to Amanda
on the bench and watched his wife’s long agile fingers passionately beating out the classical piece on the keys. He had heard such music before in St. Martinville, but nothing he had witnessed before could match the exquisite mastery of his wife’s playing. Her fingers moved along the keyboard effortlessly, as if a divine power had taken possession of them. The peaceful, entrancing music claimed his heart.

  Once Amanda sensed her captive audience, she stopped playing, self-consciously placing her hands in her lap. René stared at her, amazed at the transformation. “Why did you stop?”

  “It was beautiful,” Alcée added.

  Amanda nervously pushed her blonde curls behind her ears. “It was adequate.”

  “Adequate indeed,” Alcée grumbled. “You must stop comparing yourself to your mother.”

  René had never seen the vibrantly talented Genevieve Vanier, and he never felt the lesser man for not doing so. With all her magnificent beauty and voice, Genevieve Vanier could not have possibly been able to perform with such grace as her daughter had just done, he was sure. René placed his hand over Amanda’s and lovingly stroked it with his thumb.

  It was then he noticed the absence of jewelry.

  “I have forgotten to buy you a wedding ring,” he said. Before Amanda could react, René added, “We must go into town tomorrow and purchase one.”

  “We? You and me?”

  René had neglected to consider the gossip that would occur when he and Amanda walked the streets of Franklin together. “I realize people will talk, but how else am I to buy my wife a ring?”

  Amanda smiled broadly, sending René aback. His wife was indeed full of surprises. “I don’t care if people gossip. I can’t believe I’ll have you all to myself.”

  René shot Alcée an angry look. Alcée excused himself to the dining room for another cup of coffee. “Despite my uncle’s accusations, I don’t work all the time.”

  “I know, but I sometimes feel we had more time together at my front fence than we do in your house.”

  “Our house,” René corrected her.

  Again, Amanda flashed a bright smile. “Our house.”