“Looking for your apron?”
When he released her foot, she scrambled out of the thicket. Climbing to her feet, Cleo shook the leaves from her dress and hair and reached for her apron. The carpenter stepped back and held the formerly white cloth to his chest.
“Not so fast,” he said. “You were spying again.”
Her dignity and her apron in shreds, Cleo didn’t bother to deny his claim. She held out her hand and waited for him to place the apron in it. When he did, she ran all the way back to the church, his laughter chasing her inside.
With anger and humiliation fueling her, Cleo made short order of the rest of her cleaning, then headed home. On her way, she felt the temptation to stop by the schoolhouse. After all, with Theo at the church, there was no better time to visit.
Reaching the bend in the path, she elected to go home instead. Whatever awaited at the school, it would still be there on Monday. Tante Flo would need her to help with the cooking for tomorrow, and Uncle Joe would most likely have her school supplies.
More to the point, the schoolhouse reminded her of Theo Breaux, and his was a memory she didn’t want to think about right now. Maybe not ever.
Still, as she made tracks for home, something about him gave her pause. She knew how she felt about the man, but had she ever asked the Lord His opinion?
Twenty-two
The Easter Sunday sunrise was still a good hour away when Cleo and her aunt and uncle climbed into the wagon and headed to church. Tante Flo had the back packed with enough food to feed an army, and still she fretted about whether she’d made enough.
When they arrived at the church, they found a crowd had already begun to gather inside the sanctuary. Cleo noticed the sizable Breaux family carrying on boisterous conversations among themselves over on the left-hand side of the sanctuary, so she turned to head the other way. While she busied herself helping Tante Flo and the other ladies, she kept watch over the doors in case Theo Breaux were to walk in.
Pastor Broussard and his wife greeted the visitors and moved about between the groups of families until he finally climbed to the platform to stand behind the pulpit. As was his custom, Theo slipped inside just as the preacher began to speak.
“It figures,” she said as she watched him disappear into a crowd of Breaux family members. This time, however, she spoke the words gently and with humor.
“What figures, dear?” Tante Flo asked.
“Nothing,” she said softly, avoiding her aunt’s direct gaze. “Listen, the pastor’s about to speak.”
“Good men and women, let me wish you all the most blessed of Easter Sundays.” He paused to allow the parishioners to add their own greetings to one another. “This year our sunrise service will be a little different. A pair of our members have prepared a surprise for us that I believe you all will like very much.”
He gestured toward the back exit. “If you will all follow our elders, we will make our way outside and begin our worship.”
Cleo filed out with the rest of the congregation, then stood beside Tante Flo until the pastor and his wife emerged from the church. “I wonder what this is about,” she whispered to her aunt.
Tante Flo shrugged. “You never can tell,” she said softly. “Let’s find your uncle.”
They spotted Uncle Joe and made their way through the crowd to reach his side. “Do you know what this is about, Joe?” her aunt asked.
Rather than answer, Uncle Joe put his finger over his lips and pointed toward the pastor.
“Folks, I’d like us all to begin now with a song. Rather than stand out here as is our custom, we’ll be heading down to the bayou. The path’s been lit up, and it should be quite safe. Still, mothers may want to watch the little ones as we all walk together.”
He nodded to his wife. “Berta will begin the singing, and we’ll all fall in behind her.”
As the elderly soprano began the first line of “Amazing Grace,” the crowd joined in. Soon the group turned the corner of the church and headed across the clearing toward the bayou.
At the edge of the path, a lantern hung from a tree limb, providing just enough light to see. The same had been done at intervals, each lantern shining a circle of light that enabled the church members to walk in safety.
Cleo held tight to her aunt’s arm, noting with wonder the way the deep blue of the night sky was gradually giving way to the gray of morning. By the time she reached the bayou, the tiniest sliver of orange showed on the horizon.
In degrees, the landscape began to emerge, becoming more visible as the sun tried harder to rise. By the time the song ended, most of the church folk had gathered. Cleo looked past them to watch the bayou flow by, an endless river of black punctuated by green on both sides.
The Reverend Broussard cleared his throat. “Let us pray.”
As the pastor gave thanks for the day and for the Savior who died and rose for them, Cleo let her own prayers mingle with his. When the amens were said, she opened her eyes to see that the elders of the church had retrieved the lanterns.
Five men walked single file toward the bayou, passing the crowd to stop at the edge of the trees. As the men gathered together, the light from the lanterns illuminated an amazing sight.
Behind them a massive wooden cross rose almost to the treetops. “Let us sing,” the pastor said.
As the congregation’s voices mingled in song, Cleo’s gaze scanned the crowd for signs of Theo Breaux. She found him standing apart from the gathering, leaning against the trunk of a pine tree.
Any other time she would have let the ornery man be, but this morning something drew her to him. Making her way through the friends and relatives took some doing, but Cleo managed to reach his side before the preaching began.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
The orange sky glinted off his dark hair and gave his face a golden glow, while the dim light cast half his features in shadow. Rather than the frown she expected, he gave her a wry smile.
“Yes, for once I would have to agree with you, cher.”
❧
And Theo did agree. Cleo was beautiful. Too beautiful. That made forgetting her all the more difficult.
He was no saint, even though he really wanted to be. He’d seen pretty women in his time, but not one of them held a candle to this simple bayou beauty.
As the pastor settled into his stride and began regaling the crowd with the finer points of the resurrection story, Theo allowed his attention to drift from the reverend to the cross and finally to the woman who still stood at his side. The thought occurred to him that ever since he had met Cleo, he’d been plotting on how best to remember her—and how to forget her.
What the Lord had in mind when He set her in Theo’s line of sight, he’d never know. Still Theo closed his eyes and gave thanks that the Lord had set her there all the same.
If only He weren’t continuing to remain silent on what to do about her. Lord, if You wouldn’t mind meeting me here on this Easter Sunday morning, I’d sure like some sign of what You’re up to.
He opened his eyes and gazed on the cross he and Alphonse had set into the ground late last night. Even though he’d cut and planed the wood himself, with his brother’s help, nothing prepared him for the sight of it standing this morning.
Somewhere between the closing hymn and the benediction, Cleo slipped her hand into his. He leaned down to protest, only to have her kiss him full on the mouth.
His shock must have shown, for he could only stand mute as she gave him a smile and slipped off into the crowd. As he looked around to see if there were any witnesses to Cleo’s kiss-and-run, he noted with dismay that there had been at least one: his papa.
Their gazes met, and Theo knew his goose was cooked. Once the service ended, Papa would certainly have something to say about what he’d seen. As he expected, when the congregation began to mill about, Papa hobbled toward him and poked him with his cane.
“How about you and me speaking privately, Son?” He gestured toward the bayou. “Let’s wa
lk that way.”
Theo followed his father away from the crowd, staying close enough to catch him should he fall. To his relief, his father had regained his agility. Unfortunately, that same agility got them to their conversation much too soon.
Papa eased himself down on a tree stump and gestured for Theo to sit, as well. When Theo complied, his father leaned forward and regarded him with a serious look.
“You want to tell me the whole story right up front, or am I going to have to ask you a bunch of questions and drag it out of you?”
Theo sighed. “I guess I ought to just start at the beginning and lay it all out.”
As his father nodded, Theo began his tale. When he got to the part about asking the Lord not to let him miss out on life like his father had, he saw Papa wince. Pressing on, he finished his story, then leaned back against the pine tree and waited for the reaction.
When Papa leaned on his cane and stared down at Theo, he figured the time for a lecture had arrived. And then Papa laughed. Right there on Easter Sunday morning, his father had listened to Theo tell him he didn’t want to end up in the same situation as he was in, and he responded by laughing.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Papa said. “But I think you’ve got it all wrong here. I didn’t miss a thing.”
“But you could’ve gone to college, made something of yourself.” Theo cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. . . .”
Papa waved away the statement with a swipe of his cane. “Yes, you did, but that’s all right. I’d think that, too, if I didn’t know better.” He shrugged. “After all, what the world looks on as success isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.”
Theo shook his head. “I know, but don’t you ever wonder what it would have been like if you’d gone to Texas and earned your diploma at the college? I mean, you’d certainly not have ended up here in Latagnier.”
He nodded. “Well, you’re right about that, Son, which is exactly why I believe you miss the point.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You asked me if I ever wonder what I missed by staying here. I don’t, but let me tell you what I do wonder sometimes. I wonder what it would be like if I’d set off to seek my fortune and missed out on nigh on thirty years of marriage with the love of my life.”
The sounds of churchgoers buzzed in the distance as Theo thought about his father’s statement. “I suppose I see your point,” he said. “But look at you. You’re up before the sun, work your fingers until they bleed, then fall into bed at night dead tired. The next morning you do it all over again. I don’t want that life. No, not me.”
Papa looked away and closed his eyes. “Is that what you see when you look at me? Do you really think that’s all there is to my life?”
Theo thought a minute, then shook his head. In reality, when he considered his papa, work was the last thing that came to mind. His quick wit, his endless patience, and his ability to endure without losing his love for the Lord—those were the things he thought of.
Above all these, however, Theo knew he would remember his father for the way he openly and eternally showed how much he loved his wife and children.
“No, sir. I don’t suppose I do.” He repeated his thoughts to his father, then shared a grin with him. “So what do you make of Cleo Trahan?”
“Other than the fact that she has excellent taste in men?”
If Theo knew how to blush, he would have done it at that moment. Instead he shrugged. “Runs in the family, I guess.”
Papa nodded. “But my guess is, you’re not sure she’s the one.”
“Well. . .” He struggled to answer his father.
“The fact you can’t agree tells me a whole lot.”
Theo slapped his knees. “I’m not sure what to do, Papa. If I admit I care for her, I risk giving up my freedom. At the same time, she’d be giving up her teaching. What marriage can survive that?”
Papa rose slowly and waited for Theo to join him. “You ask what marriage can survive? Look at your mama and me. We buried two babies before they could walk and stared each other down in head-to-head disagreements more times than a gator has scales. I’m as hardheaded as a mule, and I snore louder than a brass band on Independence Day. On top of that, and I know you’ll find this difficult to believe, I tend to be set in my ways and don’t like to admit I’m wrong. Know anybody like that?”
Theo dusted off the seat of his pants and met his father’s gaze. “No, can’t say as I do.” He shrugged. “You can’t be comparing yourself to me. I don’t snore.”
The pair shared a laugh, then walked back to the gathering together. Just before they rejoined the group, Papa laid his hand on Theo’s shoulder and pulled him aside.
“Son, don’t make the mistake of deciding what God’s will is for that girl. You worry about what He wants you to do, and He’ll take care of the rest.”
“Yes, sir.” He took a step toward the clearing, but his father held him back.
“And Theo, you need to realize that what you think you’re missing isn’t out there. It’s right here.” He thumped Theo on the chest. “You get your heart right with God, and He takes care of your need to find happiness anywhere else.”
“As for the adventure you think you’re looking for. . .” He pointed to the group of women where Cleo stood. “I’d wager a week’s wages and my good leg that it’s right over there.”
The object of their discussion met his gaze. She offered a smile, then a discreet wave. He nodded and turned his attention to his father. “Anything else, Papa?”
Papa nodded and motioned for him to lean close. “Just one more thing.”
“All right.”
“You do snore.”
Twenty-three
“It’s Sunday evening,” Uncle Joe called. “Who in the world would be calling on a body on Easter Sunday? Why, we’ve already talked to just about everyone in the parish this morning at church.”
“Hush, Joe,” Tante Flo said. “That’s not neighborly at all. Cleo, would you see who is at the door?”
“Oui.”
Cleo rose from her spot on the settee, leaving her book open so she could easily rejoin the adventure unfolding on the pages. To her surprise, she opened the door to find Theo Breaux standing there. Dressed in his Sunday best, he’d taken the unprecedented step of slicking his unruly hair back in a style vaguely resembling the latest fashion.
“Bonsoir, Cleo. Is your uncle home?” He thrust a motley collection of spring flowers in her direction.
Cleo suppressed a giggle. “Why? Are those for him?”
He seemed a bit disconcerted. “No, they’re for you.”
“Who’s there, Cleo?” Uncle Joe called.
“It’s your carpenter,” she said as she stepped back and ushered him inside.
He and Joe shook hands, then Theo cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to you in private, sir.”
Uncle Joe looked up at Theo over the rim of his spectacles. “Would you now?”
The pair went into the kitchen. When Cleo tiptoed toward the closed door, her aunt stepped out to touch her shoulder. She jumped and whirled around.
“Go and read your book, child, while I put these in some water,” Tante Flo said as she took the flowers from Cleo. “For once in our life, let the menfolk be.”
Somehow she managed to settle back onto the settee and pick up the book. Reading, however, was out of the question, as her mind kept reeling back in time to the morning’s sunrise service.
Had she really stolen a kiss during church? Why, she’d behaved no better than. . .than what? She blushed to think of the comparison she could make.
Abruptly the kitchen door flew open, and Theo emerged, followed by Uncle Joe. Without a word, the carpenter took Cleo by the hand.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as he led her toward the door.
She cast a glance over her shoulder in time to see Uncle Joe disappear down the hall. Obviously, whatever transpired in the kitchen, her uncle was neither e
xcited nor upset about it.
Following Theo outside, she paused to suppress a chill. When had the air grown so cold?
Before she could turn and fetch her shawl, Theo removed his suit coat and draped it over her shoulders. The heavy wool felt heavenly against her shoulders as she snuggled into its warmth.
They walked along in silence for a time, and Cleo marveled at how comfortable it felt. When Theo cleared his throat, she almost jumped.
“You’re probably wondering why I showed up here tonight.” He gestured toward his clothes. “Dressed like this.”
Cleo met his gaze, then allowed her attention to slide lower to his neck. A vein pulsed there, and she wondered if his heart raced as fast.
“Actually, I did wonder.” She paused to add the beginning of a smile. “A bit, anyway.”
He guided her toward the bayou, falling in step beside her. “I’m not sure where to start, so I guess I’ll just tell you right out.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’ll do it that way. I believe I’ll just show you.”
Grasping Cleo’s hand, he picked up his pace. She nearly had to run to keep up with his long strides. By the time they reached the schoolhouse, she was out of breath.
Theo slowed his pace when he saw her distress. “I’m really sorry, Cleo,” he said. “Why didn’t you say something?”
She shrugged. “We’re here now,” she managed. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
He climbed up on the porch, then gestured for her to follow. At the door, he stepped back and pointed to the handle. “You do the honors, Cleo. It’s your schoolhouse.”
Cleo gave him a long look before opening the door and stepping inside. The first thing that she noticed was the smell. Everything smelled fresh and clean and—and new.
Theo rushed to the windows and began raising the shades. As light flooded the room, Cleo shook her head. It was finished.
Her gaze flitted from desk to bench to chalkboard and back to Theo. Somewhere along the way, tears had begun to fall. Theo raced to her side.
“Quoi y’a, cher? What is it? Have I done something wrong?”
Bayou Beginnings Page 14