by Lynn Shurr
Eve pressed a hand to her pink lips to cover a small smile. “I would have loved to have seen that. But Bodey, your Texas accent—how did you expect to get away with it?”
“I pretended I didn’t speak much English. Rusty posed as my interpreter. It worked pretty well until your dad saw my white ass when the wind blew my throbe nearly over my head.”
From behind the shrine, a chorus of soft laughter sounded. Eve let loose with a chuckle, only one, but a good start toward forgiveness he figured.
“Look, if you like the idea, I can get another costume and an all-over tan. We can play…” He was stopped by Eve’s suddenly grim expression and the recall of nuns listening in even if they claimed to be praying.
“No thanks. I recall another person with an all-over tan. Were you and Renee sunbathing together when I knocked at your door?”
“Hell, no. The light would of hurt my eyes too bad. Honest, I can’t remember being with Renee in what they call the Biblical sense at all. Listen, as for those dozen kids you want, I’m willin’ to give that a try, but it seems like extreme family planning to me. I figure we should have one or two like Noreen and Rusty to see how it goes, but if you don’t want to practice birth control on account of your religion, that’s fine by me. There, I’m done.” Bodey took a deep breath.
“Whoever said I want a dozen children? I might be Catholic, but I’m not out of my mind,” Eve said, grabbing at the last statement first, too distressed to mention Renee again.
Sr. Helen peeked around the shrine. “Ah, that might have been our fault. You see, Sr. Nessy and I were testing Evan Adams’ sincerity. That dozen figure just popped out during our conversation with the man. We can’t imagine how it got back to Bodey.”
“That’s a relief. I was thinkin’ two or three at the most,” Bodey responded with a grin. “Not that I couldn’t give you twelve of course.”
Sr. Inez poked her head out from behind the side of the shrine closest to Eve. “Where did you mail your letters, dear? There must be a logical explanation,” she said in a stage whisper.
“Daddy. Dad said to put my letters in with his business mail. He’d see they got where they belonged.”
“The wastebasket, most likely, but you could have phoned or e-mailed. I got a web site, you know, where my fans can leave messages,” Bodey said stubbornly.
“Right now, I’m not a big fan of yours. Besides, Dad is paranoid about my using the phone to call friends or do e-mail on his office computer. He is sure the IRS has been watching me all these years and waiting to pounce on him. That doesn’t explain why you didn’t contact me through my web site.”
“You have a web site? Never thought of you as the computer geek type is all.”
“No more than you. I display my art and refer customers and galleries to my site,” she answered in a snippy tone.
“That’s great, darlin’. Now that we’ve figured out how we lost each other for nearly three months, are we ready to stop talkin’ and make up?” Bodey asked hopefully.
“Not hardly, Bodey Landrum. I’m gone barely three months, and I come home to find you having drunken orgies with Renee Hayes.”
The voices murmuring prayers behind the shrine grew louder.
“One drunken orgy, just one! I was tryin’ to get over you, Eve. Besides, how do I know you weren’t sleeping around with sheiks and royalty the whole time you were gone, Miss Fancy Pants?”
“Don’t you call me that! Sheiks and princes again! Are you out of your mind? Daddy did try to push me at every rich client who came to catch a swordfish. When he said he had another Arab client, I refused to go along on the boat. Must have been you because he said they only caught little fish that day.”
“If you had been on that boat, I’d have thrown off those robes and taken you right there on the deck I would have been so happy to see you.” Oops, he’d forgotten about the nuns again.
A small gasp escaped from one of the audience—probably Sr. Helen as Sr. Nessy, used to dealing with horses, didn’t shock as easily and used some salty language herself.
Eve blushed, knowing they had overheard despite the murmured prayers. “With my father pushing me at rich men, it got so bad I moved out of his place in the end. You think you know me so well, Bodey Landrum—but you don’t know I wouldn’t sleep with a man if I didn’t believe I loved him.”
“So you do love me, honey!” Bodey opened his arms.
Eve didn’t run into them. She kicked a pile of pine needles in his direction, folded her arms, and said, “Renee Hayes.”
“I admit the woman slept in my bed, but I can’t remember havin’ fuc—fornicated with her. I know evidence got scattered all over the place, but here in my heart, I know I didn’t touch her. Darlin’, you got to make a leap of faith about this.” Bodey pounded his chest twice with a closed fist and gave Eve his best blue-eyed gaze. What else could he say to convince her?
“Eve, darlin’, I think we must be soul mates ’cause I don’t want any woman but you.” Thank you, Noreen. If one cowboy could marry an Academy girl, why couldn’t another?
“Renee wore my ring. I knew it was meant for me the second I saw it on her finger. Wisteria.”
“Wisteria?” one of the nun’s murmured.
Eve’s gray eyes darkened. The shade reminded him of the times he laid with her. Hope grew. “Now, that I’m clear on. I kept the ring in a container by my bed. Renee helped herself.”
He searched a pocket, found the ring, and held it out to Eve. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Something more was called for, something better than a proposal next to a dumpster or an offer during an argument. Think, Bodey, think.
He dropped to his knees in the pine needles. “Eve, accept this ring, and be my wife, my love, my soul mate.”
Eve held out her hand, and Bodey slipped the amethyst on to the white finger of his convent rose where it belonged. A small sigh and a hoarse whisper came from behind the shrine. “Now!”
“Huh?” Bodey disregarded the pain of the pine needles probing through the fabric of his jeans, still kneeling, and still holding Eve’s hand.
A shrill whistle came from the other side of the shrine. Brownie stopped cropping the Academy’s shrubs, picked up his feet, and trotted toward the couple. An age-spotted hand slipped him a quarter of an apple. The drool of a happy horse dripped from his muzzle.
Bodey got to his feet. “Will you ride into the sunset with me, Eve?” Then, he eyed the short stirrups and tiny English saddle strapped on the bulging horse.
“I will, Bodey.” Eve raised her eyebrows. “Want me to drive? Give me a leg up.”
He tossed her into the saddle and pulled himself up behind. Eve kicked Brownie into a trot and began posting right up against him. Bodey Landrum rode into the sunset a happy man.
The two nuns watched the couple ride toward the west in the direction of the Three B’s Ranch.
“Would you look at that sunset? Orange and Indian red, cadmium yellow, pink and turquoise. It’s as pretty a rainbow,” Sr. Helen said.
“God’s own miracle, and it happens every day,” Sr. Inez replied as the horse and riders passed out of sight over the crest of the hill.
Chapter Twenty-Three
All Bodey asked of Eve was that the wedding be a simple affair. He’d pay for anything she wanted, anywhere she desired, but please, not a lot of froufrou stuff like tuxedos with ruffled shirts and embroidered vests. All Eve asked of Bodey, and she asked quite a bit from him, was that her father be present. That meant an island wedding.
Bodey stuck to his guns and wore a pale gray suit with his bolo tie, a dress Stetson, and a pair of new lizard boots. In his opinion, everyone else except Eve and the two nuns in their short habits looked ridiculous draped in the wild floral prints Ja’nae Plato found in a boutique near the docks. He had to suppress a laugh every time he looked at Rusty holding the groom’s Stetson and the two platinum wedding bands engraved with wisteria leaves. The red parrots and yellow flowers on his best man’s shirt clas
hed with Rusty’s hair something awful. White pants—the women had gotten Russ to wear white pants and sandals. And Leon Plato, why he resembled a calypso king with his balding head shaved down to the skin instead of an accountant. He only needed to add a gold earring.
Needless to say, Renee Niles Bouchard Hayes had not been invited to the wedding, though she would have rocked the bridesmaids’ sarong-style dresses. Rusty’s boy, Jesse, grudgingly carried the rings, a girly job he said. Little Katie joyously scattered white rose petals in their path. The big floral print wasn’t too kind to Noreen’s hips as she came down the aisle. In fact, the only one who looked really fine was Ja’nae which figured seeing as how she’d picked the costumes. Then, Eve appeared on her father’s arm in the doorway of the small Catholic chapel surrounded by banana trees and took his breath away just as she always did.
She wore a simple long white dress tied behind her neck and a single red hibiscus blossom in her unbound hair. Eve encased her long toes in flat, golden sandals, careful not to be taller than Bodey. She held a spray of bird-of-paradise flowers in the crook of one arm and a crystal rosary and small, white Bible, gifts from Srs. Helen and Inez, in the other hand. Noreen took these items from the bride at the altar and Ja’nae held the bouquet. He and Eve exchanged traditional vows unmarred by bad poetry or awkward letters to each other and placed the rings on their fingers. The length of their kiss was simply embarrassing, Rusty claimed later.
Let the party begin! All who truly mattered had come to celebrate the unlikely union of the rodeo king and the convent rose except for Mama Tyne. Refusing to get on the charter flight, she claimed that puny little plane couldn’t hold her up. She needed a whole 747 to herself. She did promise the finest reception Rainbow had ever seen after the couple returned home. Bodey’s aunt and grandmother attended supplying the tears and his nieces the radiant smiles, even if they didn’t bring barbeque with them. All his female relatives offered to watch Jesse and Katie so Noreen and Rusty could have a true Caribbean vacation. They were that kind of good people, and Bodey was proud of them.
Still, old Rich hadn’t done badly in the food and drink department, offering trays of coconut shrimp and jerk chicken wings and an open bar with imported beers and endless varieties of beach drinks sporting paper parasols and chunks of fruit. A pink drink in one hand, Ja’nae swung her slim hips to the rhythm of the Caribbean band while she beckoned to any of the men to come dance with her.
Patrick O’Shea, not able to dance, shook hands with Rich Kuhl. He knew better than to ask about the surname since neither of their children bore their father’s name, a topic to let ride. The bride and groom made the rounds, and Eve bent over Pat’s wheelchair so he could kiss the bride.
Her own father gave her a hug and said with tears in his eyes, “I always thought you’d be married in the cathedral, baby, with a dozen bridesmaids and a dress fit for a princess.”
“It’s not the place or the dress that counts, Dad. It’s the man. I got the real deal, you know.”
“But, Eve, a cowboy?”
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Pat, his usually merry blue eyes turning hard and a fist bunching on the arm of his wheelchair as if he would take on Rich Kuhl right here, right now. Man, having a daddy come to your defense was great. Bodey almost teared up himself.
Backing off, arms in the air, Rich went to bump hips with Ja’nae and gradually warmed to his son-in-law as the champagne made the rounds. “You say you made a few million riding bulls?”
“That and the endorsements and the investments. It adds up.”
“You see, son, I’m a little overextended. Those last two boats, well, I shouldn’t have expanded so soon. Ever consider investing in a charter fishing operation?”
“It’s been my dream,” Bodey said and wrote the check. He figured he’d own the fleet in the next few years and probably the whole private island—a nice place to take their future kids for vacation.
As the tropical sun set, torches lit the scene and the party continued far into the night, but without the bride and groom who had slipped away to a suite at the Ritz-Carlton to celebrate their wedding night. Bodey and Eve watched the last rays fade into the ocean from their private balcony.
“It ain’t no prettier than the one at the Academy the day you rode off with me,” Bodey said.
“No, that sunset will always be my favorite. Come to bed, Bodey.”
Eve went in first but didn’t fuss with fancy nightwear. She simply untied the straps around her neck, slid down the short zipper at her back, and let the white dress fall. Clad in only a pair of lace panties and her golden sandals, she waited for her groom. After a moment’s appreciation, he relieved her of those items and laid her on the bed.
“Condom?” he asked out of consideration for his bride.
“No, I want you to feel all that I feel. We don’t need to use them anymore.”
“No argument from me, my convent rose. I don’t think your feelings for me are all tangled up like wisteria anymore, and you just proved you ain’t a Miss Fancy Pants by marryin’ me. I kind of like the idea that I stole you from the nuns.”
“I believe the Blessed Mother Leontine gave me to you.”
“Whatever you want to believe so long as we are together.” Bodey mounted up for a long, slow, pleasurable ride home.
Epilogue
Children did come to Bodey and Eve, the first boy nine months after the wedding ceremony, another son twelve months later, and a third eighteen months after that. Thrilled as they were with Shea Patrick, Benjamin Barnum, and Richard Russell, Eve and Bodey concluded natural family planning didn’t work well for a couple who enjoyed each other as much as they did. They decided mutually they’d reached their limit with the three boys. Eve made sure they attended church every Sunday to thank God and Mother Leontine for their blessings.
As for the town of Rainbow, the village prospered in a small way, though art was never its main commodity. Young women continued to be educated there in godly ways and achieved strong character. People came to see the famous Academy and visit the grave of the Blessed Mother Leontine to pray for her guidance and to grant them special favors. Some stayed to experience spiritual renewal behind its gates. Like the marriage of a cowboy to an Academy girl, small miracles so commonplace as to be barely noticeable continued to occur quite regularly.
Is Renee Niles Bouchard Hayes worthy of true love? Find out in A WILD RED ROSE.
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 very impractical degree in English Literature. Her first job out of school really was working in a burger joint. Moving from one humble job to another, she finally buckled down and studied for 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 of her books.
You may contact Lynn at www.lynnshurr.com or visit her personal blog: lynnshurr.blogspot.com.
She is also a regular contributor to:
www.romancingthejock.com
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other Books by Lynn Shurr
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Other Books You Might Like
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.