Deux

 

As Denny turned into the long driveway, Kelly scanned the Labouve property. Majestic oaks stood as silent sentinels throughout the acreage. Spanish moss hanging from their beefy limbs waved in greeting.

Among the mighty trees, a quaint cottage with a front porch and tall roof came into view. “Is this your house?”

“It’s my mother and grandmother’s place. Where you’ll be staying. My house is next door.”

“Next door?” There was only a large hedgerow along the driveway.

“About one hundred yards past the Ligustrum. If you look right about there.” He pointed to an opening. “We walk through there.”

“Oh.” He built a house next door to his mother?

“After my wife passed away, I bought the property next door and built my house.”

His loss tore at her own recent wounds. How long had he raised Chelsea alone? “I’m sorry.” No sooner had the words escaped her lips, she regretted saying them. They seemed trite and cliché. How many times had she heard those same words years ago when her mom died? Then again, this past year after her father’s death? Somehow, the words, though spoken with good intentions, never helped.

Denny maneuvered his vehicle around the back of his mother’s house and parked. He turned to her. Eyes filled with peace. “It’s been almost five years. And between my mother, grandmother, and especially the Lord Almighty, Chelsea and I are doing well.” His lip curled on the left as he slid off the seat. “Ready to meet Eula and Camilla?”

“I guess so.” A man who freely admitted his reliance on God was a rare thing in her world. She liked this. But she shouldn’t be surprised. All Denny’s brother had asked when she’d spoken with him about doing the article was whether or not she was a Christian. He’d told her how important it was for his family that anything written about their Christmas traditions should be written from a Christian viewpoint.

He stood next to the opened door and leaned in. “Listen, if at any time during the day my mother and grandmother get to be too much and you need a quiet place to write, just walk through the hedge. You’re welcome to use my house.” He turned toward his daughter in the back seat. “I’m sure my precious daughter will be generous enough to give you some privacy. Right?”

Chelsea closed the sticker book she’d been working on. “Duh, Dad. I’m ten years old. I’m not going to follow her around like a puppy dog.”

“My bad. I keep forgetting that you’re ten now. I’m glad you’ll treat our guest so well.”

She couldn’t believe the generosity of this family. They had taken her in without knowing her.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be OK.” She lifted the door handle and pushed her door open. As she stepped around the vehicle, a female voice filled the air.

“Well, it’s about time. I been simmering this etouffée for the pas’ two hours.”

A petite woman with gray-streaked black hair and a hundred-watt smile stepped off the back porch and walked toward Kelly, her arms outstretched.

“Welcome to Caneville. I’m Eula Labouve.” She embraced Kelly. “We’re so glad to have you wit' us.” Her Cajun-accent seemed foreign while the strength of her hug caused Kelly to pause. Something she had not expected from such a small woman. Eula’s hair held the aroma of cooked onions and gardenias. When she stepped back, Kelly gazed into twinkling brown eyes. Creased lines in the corners added an element of endearment and beauty, not age.

“Mrs. Labouve, thank you for allowing me to stay with you. I’ll look for a hotel tomorrow.”

Eula flipped her hand through the air. “Phffff. I won’t listen to dat kind of talk. You are more than welcome to stay here. Me and Mama have been working hard to get the guest room ready for you. We would be disappointed if we did all that work for nothin’.” She linked her arm through Kelly’s and propelled her toward the porch where Chelsea ran to embrace an elderly lady.

Eula glanced back toward her son. “Denny, put her bag in the red room.”

“You got it.”

Kelly turned to see Denny watching. He smiled and pointed toward his house then mouthed the word whenever.

She smiled then returned her attention to his mother. “Mrs. Labouve—”

“Call me Eula, and know you are staying here for your entire visit.” With a nod of her head as though the subject were settled, she continued to lead Kelly toward the back door and the elderly lady standing there with her hands on her hips.

When they’d climbed the steps and approached, the elder woman turned her attention from Chelsea to Kelly and offered a wrinkled hand. “Miss Shepherd, I’m Camilla Comeaux and it is my pleahza to meet you.” She shook with both hands, and Kelly basked in the warm softness of the old woman’s hands. The enticing scent of gardenias enveloped her.

“Mrs. Comeaux, it’s my pleasure. I look forward to spending Christmas with you and your family.”

“She’s not Mrs. Comeaux. She’s Mameré Milla.” Chelsea piped in.

“That’s right, I’m Mameré Milla to everyone who stays here. So I’m now your Mameré Milla.” Her eyes danced when she said the words. Kelly found herself drawn into them. She’d never known her grandparents. The acceptance of Mameré’s warm touch and endearing smile removed any doubt Kelly had about staying here.

“Come in. Come in.” Eula waved Kelly into the house and talked as she strolled in. “We don’t have to stand out here in the heat. Kelly, I have a big pot of crawfish etouffée simmerin’, rice, green beans, some field peas, and a green salad, with a loaf of French bread.” She finally stopped and turned toward Kelly. “I hope you’re hungry.”

The rumble in Kelly’s stomach answered the question. “I am.” She breathed in the heady aromas in the kitchen. Smells she didn’t recognize, but made her feel welcome. Cozy.

She scanned the large kitchen and living room combination. The outside of the house gave little indication to the size of the inside. Denny walked by with her heavy suitcase, carrying it with ease in one hand. The last rays of the day’s sunshine filtered in through the skylight in the vaulted ceiling and reflected off his brown hair as he crossed the living room.

His crooked smile as he passed sent a tiny chill through her. A chill she ignored. A man living in south Louisiana next to his mother and grandmother with a ten-year-old daughter was not her idea of a romantic interest. Beside, that’s why she’d accepted this assignment—to forget romance. Right? Or did she come here to avoid being alone. She couldn’t remember.

 

****

 

Denny headed toward his mother’s guest room. He cringed. He remembered the day she’d asked him to help her paint the room poinsettia. When he’d taken the cover off the can and understood why it was called poinsettia, he decided to intervene. After an hour, he’d convinced his mother to cover only one wall in the red and the others in beige. She had loved the look and now asked his advice when she wanted to redecorate. Of course, he had no clue about decorating. He just knew what he liked and what he didn’t. And he knew for certain if he had to sleep in a small room painted bright red, he’d probably go nuts.

“Can I show Kelly to her room?” Chelsea’s voice sailed through the living room. Denny grinned and shook his head in wonder. His daughter had never warmed to any female that had a remote possibility of becoming a romantic interest. He couldn’t believe how easily she’d taken to Kelly. Then again, maybe she knew what he did—the odds of a relationship with a beautiful journalist from Denver were slim. She wouldn’t have to worry about this woman.

He laid the suitcase on the folding rack his mother had opened at the foot of the bed.

His daughter’s voice filtered into the room. “You’re gonna love this room. I helped my daddy paint it. Red is my favorite color. What’s yours?”

Kelly’s attention to Chelsea seemed genuine as she allowed his daughter to pull her toward the room. “I would have to say that blue is my favorite color. Like the blue of a clear, cloudless day.”

“Oh, that is a pretty color. I’ve seen those when we’ve taken Daddy’s boat out to see Gaston.” She dropped Kelly’s hand and raced toward him. “Daddy, will you take Kelly for a ride down the bayou, to the swamp tomorrow? She needs to see Gaston.”

He grinned. What would she think of their unusual friend? “Honey, I have to work tomorrow. We can visit Gaston on Friday or Saturday when I’m off.”

“Yay.” Chelsea clapped her hands.

The joy dancing in his daughter’s eyes stopped him from questioning further what made her so determined to get Kelly out into the swamp.

Kelly raised both hands. “Time out. Who is Gaston? And why do we have to go into the swamp to see him?”

“Gaston is a sixteen-foot alligator that lives a few miles down the bayou.” Chelsea answered.

Kelly’s furrowed brow and reluctant smile made Denny laugh. “It’s all right. Our boat is much bigger than the alligator.”

“OK, I’m game. I think. But I reserve the right to change my mind at any time.” She tousled Chelsea’s hair. The action made his daughter giggle.

Kelly shot him a questioning gaze. “Tracking an alligator. Sure didn’t see that as part of a Christmas tradition.”

“Supper is ready. Come and eat.” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Come on half-pint.” He hefted his daughter onto his back. “Let’s let Kelly wash up before dinner.” When he realized what he said, he added, “Not that she needs to.”

Kelly’s smiling face allowed him a sigh of relief. He pointed to the other side of the room. “The bathroom’s through that door.”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

He trotted toward the kitchen with Chelsea on his back.

“Daddy?”

“What, pumpkin?”

She whispered into his ear. “Do you think Kelly’s pretty?”

He turned and kissed her cheek. “Now what kind of question is that to ask your Daddy?”

“I dunno. Just curious. I think she is.”

“I suppose she is.” He sure hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from Chelsea, and he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He’d prayed that if the day ever came when he’d fall in love with another woman that his daughter would accept her, but even in his craziest dreams, he hadn’t thought his ten-year-old would encourage the matter.