by Sandra Hill
He squeezed her hand and said, “That is why I am here. You are never to feel hopeless again.”
“But…” She blinked away the tears that misted her eyes, then did a double take. There was no one there. She’d been talking to herself.
However, she noticed a long stick propped against the bench.
On Monday morning, she sat in a doctor’s office, listening to her diagnosis. “You are five months pregnant, Louise,” Dr. Fenton said.
“How is it possible that I’m five months pregnant, and didn’t know? I’ve lost weight, not gained.”
“It happens,” the doctor said with a shrug. “A stealth or cryptic pregnancy, it’s called. One of the causes is stress, and you’ve certainly had that with the loss of your fiancé.” Louise had told him about Phillipe in the initial interview.
Louise put a hand to her flat stomach. “Does that mean something’s wrong?”
“Not at all. You’ll get a bump eventually, probably soon.”
Five months, Louise pondered. The baby was Phillipe’s then. She exhaled on a sigh of relief.
“You’ve got to put on some pounds now, for the baby, if not for your own health. Eat more, even if you’re not hungry. And eat healthy.”
Louise nodded. And no more alcohol or wild living, she told herself.
“Will you keep the baby? I can give you a list of agencies that could help with adoptions, if you’re interested.”
“No! This is Phillipe’s child. I will cherish him…her…it.” A bubble of laughter erupted in her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled, let alone laughed. A baby! I’m going to have Phillipe’s baby.
“It will be difficult raising an illegitimate child,” the doctor cautioned. “No, don’t be offended. I’m just warning you that, even in these times, an unwed mother is a scandal.”
“I don’t care! Can’t you see? I’m going to have Phillipe’s baby. That’s all I care about.”
Leaving the doctor’s office, she felt as if she’d been given a reason for living. Maybe that man in Jackson Square had been right. Maybe Phillipe was worried about her, wherever he was, and he’d sent her this miracle. Oh, she hoped so! It shamed her to think that Phillipe might know what she’d been doing since his death, but she resolved to do better now. She had a reason to change, a reason for living.
Later that day, she drove Phillipe’s old clunker to her mother’s house on Bayou Black. Apparently, her mother saw something on her face as she emerged from the car because she put her hand to her heart and said, “What? What is it?”
“I’m going to have Phillipe’s baby, Mama.”
Instead of being shocked or condemning her for promiscuity, her mother opened her arms to Louise and hugged her tightly. They wept on each other’s shoulders, but they were tears of bittersweet happiness.
That didn’t mean her mother had no concerns. She did, and later she passed them on to Louise. Sitting down to a glass of sweet tea and a slice of Figgy Buttermilk Cake, freshly made, her mother cautioned, “The baby will be illegitimate, and ya know what the bayou is like. Now, doan be getting’ yer back up, we gotta be talkin’ practical here.”
“Practical be damned!”
“That kinda language won’t accomplish nothin’.”
“What do ya suggest I do, Mama? Go out and find a man ta marry me just ta give the baby a name?”
“No, but—“
“I’m not givin’ my baby…Phillipe’s baby…up fer adoption.”
“I never expected ya would.”
“Well, then?”
“We need a plan.”
“Ya mean, I go away like some girls did in high school, and then come back six ta nine months later with a baby, claimin’ I got married? No one believes those stories.”
“No, we gotta do better than that.” Her mother seemed to be thinking. “How ’bout in a month or two, when ya begin ta show, ya quit yer job, citin’ yer Big Grief…thass what ya call it, isn’t it? While they think yer takin’ a break, ya kin go ta one of those homes fer unwed mothers. There’s one in Biloxi run by the Sisters of Divine Light, I think.”
Louise cringed at the idea of sitting around with a bunch of other pregnant women, crying over their sad situations. On the other hand, it would give her a sanctuary, a place to hide out for a while.
“While yer gone, I could put the word out that ya went ta Mexico where Frank’s widow, Patti Rivard, is about ta have a baby.”
“Patti’s pregnant?”
“Louise! Pay attention. No, Patti’s not pregnant, far as I know. Anyways, when ya return with yer baby, we would say it was Frank’s and Patti’s, and that yer gonna raise it…that Patti has a new life with a new man who doesn’t want any reminders of her husband.”
“Hmmm,” Louise said. “That might work. Since Patti ran off with that AWOL soldier even before Frank was captured, she probably wouldn’t want to be saddled with Frank’s baby, if she really was pregnant.”
“Supposedly, she’s livin’ in Mexico now. She has no family in these parts. So, chances are no one would ever know,” her mother went on.
“That would mean that the baby would consider you its grandmother, but I would only ever be its aunt.”
Her mother shrugged. “A small price ta pay, dontcha think? And ya kin allus tell the chile the truth later on.”
Louise shook her head. “No, if we go ahead with this crazy plan, I’ll start as I mean ta go on.”
Thus it was that Adèle Rivard was born on January 1, 1946. And a new chapter began in the life of Louise Rivard.
When Adèle was one year old and beginning to talk, she was unable to manage Aunt Louise, or Tante Louise. Instead, she babbled the words, “Tante Lulu.” And the name stuck.
One day, Louise remarked when watching her daughter romp in the backyard by the bayou, “Y’know, Mama, no matter what the future holds, I’ll always have a bit of Phillipe that lives on. Till we meet again.”
“Thank God!” her mother replied
Ahem! a voice in Louise’s head said. Art thou forgetting someone? Am I a potted tupelo tree here?
With a smile, Louise recalled the man in Jackson Square. “And thank St. Jude.”
Chapter 9
Present day.
Back to the future…
I’m not dead.
Well, that’s a relief.
It was a dream.
Darn it!
But what a dream! It was wonderful seeing Phillipe again. Being with him. And, holy crawfish, I was a hottie back then! I forgot that I looked that good.
Louise drifted in a dream state, slowly coming awake to awareness of her surroundings, even though her eyes were still closed. She had fainted, of all things, right out in public, in the middle of that big war event.
I knew it was a mistake. I shoulda stayed home and made fig preserves.
But, no, then I wouldn’t have met up with Phillipe again.
Oh, Lordy, I hope I wasn’t moanin’ when we were havin’ dream sex.
She scrooched her hiney around a little and realized that she was lying on some kind of cot. Probably in that medical tent they’d passed a bit ago.
Then voices intruded on her dream…thoughts…whatever. They appeared be hovering over her. She recognized Luc, Réne, and Remy, her three nephews.
No, not nephews. Grandsons. All these years, and I never revealed my secret. Should I tell them now? Would it matter if they know? Would it make them think less of me?
No, I’ve lived too long being their loving aunt. Maybe when I go to my Final Reward, I’ll leave a note informing them of their actual bloodlines. One of those Last Will and Testament Big Reveals that would shock everyone.
Then again, maybe not.
Suddenly, Phillipe was standing next to her. Apparently, the dream wasn’t over yet. He took her hand and gazed down at the three men. “We did good, didn’t we, darlin’?”
She turned to look at him. He was so handsome in his Navy dress uniform, the one he’d been buried i
n, and he was young, too, same age as when he’d died. But then, glancing down at the smooth skin of her hand, minus the “Flowers of Death,” or liver spots, that adorned her flesh now, she realized that she was young, too.
She must be dead, after all.
“Oh, Phillipe, are we going to finally be together again?”
“Not yet.”
Disappointment flooded her. “But I’ve missed you so much!”
“And I’ve missed you even more. Someday, we’ll be together, my love. But now is not your time.”
“Why?”
“You have work to do yet.”
“I do? The figs kin rot fer all I care.”
“Not that,” he said with a smile. “Your family…our family…needs you.”
“Are there going to be more babies?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
“Wait. Don’t go away. There’s so much—“
“Shhh. Till we meet again, darlin’.”
He faded away, and voices speaking above and around her became louder. Intrusive. Demanding.
“I think she’s just taking a nap.”
“In the middle of a thousand people at this blasted fair?”
“Why not? It would be just like her. She loves to be the center of attention.”
“Is she dead?” someone asked.
“No, she’s breathin’.”
“But why isn’t she wakin’ up?”
“I know what will get the old bird’s attention.” It was René speaking, she could tell. And she was going to give him “old bird” with a whack of her St. Jude fan when she got up. “Hey, Tante Lulu,” René said in an overloud voice, “I think I see Richard Simmons over there. He’s teachin’ Radio Josette how ta do jumpin’ jacks.”
“Yer a bunch of idjits,” she said, sitting up and brushing off Remy’s hand when he tried to help her stand. As her family, all eighteen of them, clustered around her, she tried to figure who might be in trouble or in need of her matchmaking services.
There was Mary Lou, a Cajun cowgirl if there ever was one, spending way too much time on her daddy’s ranch with horses, instead of men. Or Luc’s three daughters. Andy LeDeux, the New Orleans Saints player, nicknamed “Candy Andy” because he was such great…well, eye candy, didn’t need any help from her in attracting women; in fact, she might need to weed out ninety-nine per cent of his “harem” if he didn’t get down to business soon.
But wait. She knew exactly who needed her most. Etienne-Call-Me-Steve. She smiled, and heard someone say, “Uh-oh! Tante Lulu has her wicked smile on. She’s plannin’ something. Guar-an-teed!”
She glanced over at Etienne, who was staring at her with concern. He was a good boy, despite his wild ways, bless his heart. Even so, he was too young to be one of her prospects anytime soon. It was hopeless to think she could hold on till he was of an age.
But then she heard a voice in her head say, Hopeless? Did someone say hopeless? Bite thy tongue, lady.
And so the Tante Lulu adventures would go on.
***THE END***
(for now)
Figgy Buttermilk Cake
Ingredients for cake:
2 cups flour
¾ cup oil (preferably canola)
1-2 cups chopped figs (or fig preserves)
1 ½ cups granulated sugar
½ cup brown sugar
3 eggs, beaten
1 cup buttermilk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cloves
1 tsp salt
1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts (optional)
Ingredients for the glaze:
¼ cup buttermilk
¼ cup butter, softened
½ cup granulated sugar
1 ½ tsp corn starch
¼ tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
2 tsp syrup, optional (corn or molasses)
Directions for cake:
Mix together the beaten eggs, oil, sugars, and vanilla. Gradually add the flour, baking soda, spices. Then the buttermilk. Fold in the figs and nuts. Spread into a greased and floured cake pan (9 x 13) or a Bundt cake pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 50-60 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Glaze the cake while it is warm, and possibly again when it cools, if so desired.
Directions for buttermilk glaze:
Heat together in a sauce pan the sugar, baking soda, corn starch, butter, and buttermilk (and syrup, optional) until it comes to a low boil, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. It should be smooth and fluffy. Spread onto the top (and sides, if a Bundt) of the warm cake. If desired, spread again when cool. Can be served with ice cream, whipped cream, or alone.
Reader Letter
Dear Readers:
I hope you liked Tante Lulu’s story. It was a long time coming.
It can be read as a stand-alone book. Or, in chronological order in terms of the Cajun series, it would be between CAJUN CRAZY and CAJUN PERSUASION (coming in the summer of 2018).
If you haven’t tried my Cajun books before (Shame on you!
That book was followed by TALL, DARK, AND CAJUN; THE CAJUN COWBOY; THE RED-HOT CAJUN; PINK JINX; PEARL JINX; WILD JINX; SO INTO YOU (BAYOU ANGEL); SNOW ON THE BAYOU; THE CAJUN DOCTOR; CAJUN CRAZY; and CAJUN PERSUASION. Whew! I never intended there to be so many books when I first started writing about the beloved bayou country.
It should be noted that I am not from the South, although I fell in love with Louisiana while accompanying my husband on several business trips there. I feel such an empathy for that region that I wondered if some of my ancestors might have been Southerners, a sort of genetic memory. Alas, the answer is no. However, I should point out that my grandmother, whose maiden name was Butler, always said she was related to Rhett Butler. I know, I know, dear old Rhett was a fictional character. Still…
It should also be noted that my oldest son is named Beau, a Southern name to be sure. My husband insisted on that name, for reasons still unknown.
Let me know what you think of Tante Lulu’s story by contacting me at my website, SandraHill.net, or on my Facebook page at Sandra Hill Author. As always, I wish you smiles in your reading, and Tante Lulu wishes you joie de vivre.
Sandra Hill
About the Author
Sandra Hill is the best-selling author of almost fifty novels and the recipient of numerous awards. She has appeared on many bestseller lists, including the New York Times and USA Today.
Readers love the trademark humor in her books, whether the heroes are Vikings, Cajuns, Navy SEALs, treasure hunters, or vangels (Viking vampire angels), and they tell her so often, sometimes with letters that are laugh-out-loud funny. In addition, her fans feel as if they know the characters in her books on a personal basis, especially the outrageous Tante Lulu.
At home in central Pennsylvania with her husband, four sons, a dog the size of a horse, six dogs belonging to her sons, and three grandchildren, Sandra is always busy. When she is not at their home, so close to the Penn State football stadium that she can hear the Blue Band practicing every night, she can be found relaxing at their Spruce Creek cottage.
Sandra is always on the lookout for new sources of humor. So be careful if you run into Sandra. What you say or do may end up in a book. If you want to take the chance, you can contact her at SandraHill.net. She loves to hear from her fans.
Also by Sandra Hill
Sandra Hill’s Cajun Novels (In Order):
The Love Potion
Tall, Dark, and Cajun
The Cajun Cowboy
The Red-Hot Cajun
Pink Jinx
Pearl Jinx
Wild Jinx
So Into You (Bayou Angel)
Snow on the Bayou
The Cajun Doctor
Cajun Crazy
Cajun Persuasion
Novellas
“Jinx Christmas” in A Dixie Christmas Anthology
“Saving Savannah” in Heart Craving Anthology
“When Lulu was Hot”