Huit

 

An oak mission couch with faded plaid cushions, two wooden rocking chairs, and a dinette table with four chairs greeted Kelly when she entered.

Denny laid the basket on the planked table in the tiny kitchen. “What do you think of our humble little camp?”

“I like it. Do you come here often?”

“Not nearly as often as I’d like. I used to bring Chelsea out here a lot, but lately I’ve had so much going on with work, this place has taken a back seat.” He pointed across the sparse living room. “There’s a restroom through that door if you need it.”

Kelly laughed. “It doesn’t lead outside does it?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, we do have indoor plumbing here. Even in our little camp. Ever hear of septic tanks? We have electricity, too.” He flipped a switch up and down to prove his point.

When she exited the restroom, Denny rose from one of the wooden rockers. “Ready for lunch? I thought we could sit on the dock. It’s a little musty in here.”

“Sure.”

He led her to the expanded part of the dock then reached into the basket and produced a purple and gold blanket. With a flip of his wrist the blanket covered the dock and a large tiger imprinted in the center stared at them.

She sat and began taking the sandwiches from the basket. “Let me guess, you’re an LSU fan.”

He laughed then sat next to her. “Yes and no.”

“OK, Labouve. Do tell.”

He removed a small insulated bag from the basket. “I will. After grace. Would you like to do the honors?”

Kelly paused at the request. Praying was such a personal thing for her. She wasn’t sure if she could say what was in her heart in front of Denny. The stirring within prompted her. She cleared her throat and began, “Father, thank You for this wonderful blessed day, for this new adventure, and for this Southern hospitality. Thank You for this food. Bless the hands that prepared it and continue to show us more of Yourself. Amen.” When she lifted her head, she met warm brown eyes drooping with kindness and attentiveness. No basset hound had drawn such a burning desire to embrace him. Was she falling for Denny?

“OK, now tell.” She needed to get him talking to break the electricity between them. While sitting crossed-legged on the blanket, she took a bite of her sandwich.

“Not before I do this.” He leaned toward her, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Her breath caught.

He swirled a jumbo shrimp through a cup of thick red sauce then lifted it to her mouth. “Tell me what you think.”

She hesitated. What was he doing?

His twinkling eyes enticed her. “It’s OK.”

She bit into the shrimp and once again met his electrifying gaze. Her eyes closed as she savored the tangy succulent treat. “Mmm, that is good.”

When she opened her eyes, Denny’s unique smile beamed. “I’m glad you like it. My own special recipe.”

Denny’s chiseled bicep, just centimeters from her arm, sent her pulse racing. She marveled at the rareness of the man sitting next to her. He followed Christ, ran a successful company where men respected him, he cooked and even made his own recipes, he was a generous, caring father and son, and was handsome on top of all that. Now she knew why women were interested in Denny Labouve—he was too good to be true.

“Great recipe. Now back to LSU. What’s this yes and no. I thought all Louisianans were die-hard LSU fans.”

He swallowed his bite then stretched out on the blanket. He lay on his side and propped his head with his hand. Clouds rolled overhead blocking the rays of sunshine that peeked through earlier. She met his gaze and could tell by his endearing smile that the memories she suspected he relived were good ones for him.

He cleared his throat and toyed with the fringe of the blanket. “I played high school football for the South Bazet Gators. Star quarterback and all. I’d always dreamed of leaving Louisiana and playing for Notre Dame. When I was ten, I watched the movie about Knute Rockne and decided that’s where I’d play football one day. Turned out, I was accepted, but didn’t get a football scholarship. Got offered full rides to LSU, a couple of schools in California, one in Florida, Alabama, and Michigan. All great schools, but not my dream school. Didn’t help that Notre Dame had just ended the season ranked high. By that time they had several national championships on their record. Made me want to play there even more.” He took a sip from the water bottle he held. “So I packed my bags, took out a massive loan, and headed for Notre Dame. Talk about country goes to city.” He laughed.

“You attended Notre Dame?”

“You sound surprised. Graduated with a degree in mathematics.”

Another thing about this man she never would have expected. She lowered her gaze. “I am surprised. I would have figured you stayed close to home. You know, the hometown hero.”

“That’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”

“So, did you play football for Notre Dame?”

“I did. And when senior year came, NFL scouts clamored, courting me with hints of big contracts. I planned to come home, marry Andrea, and take her to whatever city hosted the team that drafted me.”

His smiled faded, and a pained look flashed in his eyes. “Then my dad died. Carroll had his hands full with the newspaper he’d just bought, which left me as the only one to step in and run the business. Mama tried to get me to sell the business and live my dream, but I couldn’t. My father started that business from nothing, and I didn’t want his dreams to die with him. Andrea and I prayed a lot, then I moved back home and took over the business. We were married in the typical grand Cajun style. Two years later Chelsea came along. Life was good.” He popped a shrimp into his mouth.

Kelly sat, taking in what he’d told her, knowing that the rest of the story held a sad truth—life had not always been good to Denny. “Guess you really are like George Bailey.”

Denny smiled. A faraway look filled his eyes. “Yes, maybe. I’ve never regretted the decision to come back here. Through all that’s happened, I’ve learned how precious family really is.”

Kelly finished the last of her sandwich and nodded. Although her family had not been as big as Denny’s, she knew how important they’d been. A pang of longing gripped her. She wished her parents could have seen what she’d seen today. She knew her dad would have loved the swamp. Especially, Gaston. Now she had no one left to call family. Unless of course, she counted Mameré Milla’s invitation to be her grandmother.

 

****

 

While Denny lingered with the thoughts of his father and Andrea, he realized the memories hadn’t dumped the flood of pain he’d expected. The memories brought—comfort. A slow gradual gift over the years. Tears stung the back of his eyes. Life moved on. Lord, thank You for the healing.

“So, tell me your story, Kelly Shepherd.”

Her brown eyes dulled from the sparkle of earlier. “There’s not much to tell. I went to college in my hometown, graduated with a degree in journalism, then went to work for the local newspaper. Didn’t venture out like you did.” She stared out into the marsh. “I dated Brent, my ex-boyfriend, while he went to medical school. We were supposed to get married once he started working. Instead he decided being tied down was not for him.”

“Ouch. That had to hurt.”

“It did. I realized I was in love with the idea of getting married and starting a family more than I was in love with him. I had made these crazy plans for my life and now everything was ruined. Seems God was trying to tell me something, only I wasn’t listening. The breakup hurt. Dad dying two months later really hit hard. Made me realize what was really important in life.”

She sighed and gazed across Lake Semeaux. The hurt she harbored tore at his heart. He couldn’t ease her pain. He understood all too well the loneliness and the ache. And as much as he wanted to take it from her, he intimately knew the inability for anyone else to make it go away. She would have to rely on God for that.

When she turned toward him, tears glistened in her eyes. “I miss him, Denny. I miss my dad so much. He was everything to me after my mom died.” She dabbed at her eyes with the Christmas napkin he’d brought. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

The urge to embrace her and reassure her overcame him. It took everything he had to resist. Lord, give me the words to help her.

He sat up and with a gentle sweep, lifted her hand to his lips. The feel of her skin on his lips, warmed him. “Don’t apologize. It’s OK, I understand.”

He squeezed her hand and bowed his head. “Father God, I lift Kelly to You. Lord, give her Your peace. Give her the assurance to know that Your peace can heal her. Draw her to You. Lord, let her feel Your presence and know You are with her.”

Tears streaming from her moist doe-like eyes threatened to tear down his resolve. His arms ached to hold her—comfort her. Instead, he embraced her hands in his. “Kelly, I’m here if you want to talk.”

She met his gaze for a brief moment then shielded her pain with lowered lashes. “Some days I’m OK, good even. But then some days…”

With his index finger, he tilted her face upward and stared into her eyes. “I know. I know.”

She sighed then rested her head on his shoulder.

In silence, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry.