December 23
Kelly sat across the dining room table in Eula’s house next to Mameré and reached for another dollar bill. “Gaston was a little intimidating at first.”
“I think he’s cool.” Chelsea rolled the crisp dollar bill and handed it to Eula so she could tie a red ribbon around it.
“I told Denny he shouldn’t be teaching Chelsea to play wit’ alligators. That’s not right.” Eula tied a bow and attached the dollar bill to a candy cane then placed it in a basket.
“Now Eula, leave that boy alone. He wouldn’t do anyt’ing to hurt Chelsea. He’s just teachin’ her to respect the swamp and its residents. Passin’ on things just about lost to the next generations.” Mameré Milla’s arthritic fingers rolled the dollar bill. How many dollars had those fingers rolled over the years?
“Mrs. Eula, my father was a lot like Denny. He shared his love of the mountains with me. We camped in tents and explored the Rockies every weekend. Those are some of my most precious memories.” Kelly warmed at the thought of those camping trips. She turned toward Denny’s grandmother. “You know Mameré, my father used to tell me a candy cane story at Christmas also.”
“He did?” Her eyebrows lifted. “I would love to hear it.”
Kelly repeated the story she’d heard every Christmas as far back as she could remember.
“I like his story very much.” Mameré patted Kelly’s hand. “I believe I would have liked your father.”
Before Kelly could slip too far into memories of her father, Denny walked in through the kitchen door. “Hello ladies, have you watched the news? There’s a cold front coming. Mama, looks like it may be raining tomorrow during the party.”
“That’s OK. We’ll just clear out the garage and set up the tables in there. But dat means no bonfire.”
“Ahhh, that’s my favorite.” Chelsea pouted.
“I thought Mameré’s story was your favorite.” Eula tugged on Chelsea’s ponytail.
“That, too. I have lots of favorites at Christmas.” Her pout morphed into a smile then a giggle for her great-grandmother.
Denny poured a cup of coffee then lifted the pot. “Anyone need a refill?”
His mother raised her cup. “I do.”
He filled his mother’s cup then locked gazes with Kelly. “You OK?”
She knew he meant the level of coffee in her cup, but she sensed he meant more.
Upon completion of the candy cane project, Eula busied herself in the kitchen. While Mameré Milla watched, Denny, Kelly, and Chelsea decorated the gold-tipped cedar tree with the remainder of the candy canes.
Although the outdoor temperatures didn’t feel like Christmas to her, the inviting indoor atmosphere did.
Once they’d hung the last of the candy canes, Denny lifted Chelsea to place a beautiful angel on top the tree.
“OK, Dad. I think it’s in place.”
Before he lowered her, he turned to Kelly. “Is she on straight?”
Kelly examined the angel from different angles. “Looks good to me.” She turned toward Denny’s grandmother. “Mameré Milla, what do you say?”
“I say it’s good.”
Then with a twinkle in his eye that let Kelly know he planned something, Denny lowered Chelsea toward the living room floor. But before he set her free, he tickled her. For the next few minutes, Denny sat on the floor while his daughter dissolved in a fit of giggles. Once he released her from his playful torment, he glanced toward his watch. “Guess what?”
“What?” Chelsea asked between huffs and puffs.
“It’s almost five.”
“Can I get the golf cart?”
“You can.”
“Yaaay!” Chelsea ran toward the back door and when she passed near Kelly she said, “You’re gonna love the parade.”
Scenes ran through Kelly’s mind. Golf cart. Parade. Darkness. She couldn’t make the connections.
“Coffee and hot chocolate is ready.” Eula placed two insulated carafes in a soft-sided ice chest along with a stack of foam cups.
When Kelly looked toward Denny, he smiled. “It’s the Christmas parade. We need the cart so Mameré doesn’t have to walk so far.” He reached for his cup and downed the remainder of his coffee.
An hour later, Kelly sat on a bench at the Labouve family boat dock, coffee cup in hand. The area was illuminated by the soft light of two patio torches and the multitude of Christmas lights twinkling from each boat that slid past the dock in the murky waters of Bayou Labouche.
Greetings, some in French, were yelled from each boat through the dense night air above the backdrop of Christmas music played with a zydeco beat. The familiar Christmas carols came to life in a new way for her with the sound of the fiddle and accordion.
Eula leaned toward Chelsea and pointed toward the brightly lit trawler. “Look, babe. It’s Tante Lulu in Cousin Richard’s boat.”
“Merry Christmas.” A woman waved from the side of a boat so covered with lights Kelly could clearly see the woman’s smiling face and the resemblance to Denny’s mother’s.
Eula waved back. “That’s my younger sister, Louise. We call her Lulu.”
“What does Tante mean?” She waved at the well-wishers floating by.
“That’s French for aunt.”
“Eula!” Another round of calls from a passing boat captured their attention. “Comment ça va?”
With different faces and music, the scenes repeated with each passing boat. Kelly absorbed each new experience with the mind of a journalist, but with Denny and his family, their times together were more than stories to write about. They were memories to treasure. New memories. To replace the old? A fleeting sting of longing pierced her heart as the familiar melody of “White Christmas” drifted toward her.
****
Denny spent more time engrossed by Kelly’s rapt attention to the decorated boats than he did to the boats themselves. For him, the scenes were as familiar as the moss-draped oaks. In the thirty years he’d stood in this same spot, the parade had grown and become more elaborate, but enjoying the scenes through Kelly’s eyes deepened his appreciation for his Cajun culture.
Chelsea hopped on the dock, waving with both arms. “Daddy, look. It’s Jeremy.”
The young boy recognized Chelsea and performed the same hopping dance on the boat. When his father lifted him up, he waved with the same enthusiasm as Chelsea.
Chelsea bounced next to Kelly. “There’s Jeremy. He’s my best friend.” Her thin arm flailed wildly until another boat carrying a load of new faces yelling greetings replaced the one with her friend.
Kelly held Chelsea’s hand and both waved with child-like enthusiasm as the encouraging words drifted across the damp night air. Tiny curls formed around her face making her look even more like an angel to him. He couldn’t deny that Kelly had captured his attention in a mighty way. Could there be more for him? Suddenly, a knot twisted in his stomach. Why Lord? Why someone that lives thousands of miles away?
With Kelly so in love with the mountains and his life so embedded in South Louisiana, he couldn’t see how they could ever have a relationship. As Kelly poured another cup of hot chocolate for his daughter, he ached from the sad realization.