Acadian Waltz (15 page)

“Nora works,
Momma. She has a big job at a hospital in the city. She can’t always get away,”
Jean Marc informed her as he walked up beside us.

“Well, that’s no
excuse,” Ms. Marie scolded and pointed her finger at me. “You’re family, child.
You always must come and see me.”

Just then, Uncle
Jack appeared from around the side of the house, wearing a pair of worn blue
jean overalls and his old, faded blue cap. He had gained some weight and there
was a bounce in his step.

“Nora T!” He
came forward and hugged me.

I stood back
from him and explored his face. His blue eyes were brighter and there was a
hint of color in his cheeks. “You look great, Uncle Jack.”

“All Ms. Marie’s
good cookin’, I ‘spect.” He patted his belly. “I didn’t think you’d be comin’
today. Figured you’d be too busy plannin’ your big weddin’.”

“Jacques told me
you’re marryin’ a doctor,” Ms Marie admitted with a smile. “That be a fancy
catch, girl.”

I shrugged as
Ms. Marie’s eyes carefully observed me. “His name is John Blessing, and he’s
not a fancy catch. Just a nice guy.”

Ms. Marie
clapped her hands together. “If he makes you happy, child, that be all that
matters.” Then she turned her head curiously to the side and studied me for a
moment longer. “You love that boy, Nora T?”

“Of course I
love him, Ms. Marie.” I smiled for her. “He’s a great guy,” I added, trying to
sound convincing.

“That’s what you
say, Nora T,” Uncle Jack remarked. “But that ain’t what we see.”

Ms. Marie patted
my arm. “When you’re in love, child, you glow. You walk on air. You have no
doubts. You’re happy, a ‘once upon a time’ kinda happiness, like in a fairy
tale.”

I took in an
unsteady breath, feeling as if the world was closing in on me. “Times have
changed, Ms. Marie. Couples have a lot more obstacles to overcome, more
pressures to live with. Happiness is not the primary concern. Expectations are
different for couples nowadays.”

Jean Marc’s eyes
focused on me. “Are they?” He shook his head and then hurried inside the house.

“Never mind him.
He’s just feelin’ the sting from his own failed marriage,” Ms. Marie assured me
as she waved her hand after her son. “He’s never been the same since that Texas
girl broke his heart.”

“Broke his
heart?” I asked.

“She ran off
with a colleague of Jean Marc’s. Them married only nine months, and she was
already lookin’ for greener pastures.” Ms. Marie winked at me. “That girl
wasn’t right for my Jean Marc. She would have been better for my other son,
Henri.”

“Why do you say
that, Ms. Marie?”

“‘Cause she
didn’t care for no one but herself. Selfish just like Henri, she was. But Jean
Marc, he’s my good son. He’s gonna make some good girl a fine husband one day.”

Uncle Jack
pushed back his cap and rubbed his forehead. “Yep, he’s gonna be a fine man
once he learns to speak his mind,” he commented, and then stepped through the
front door.

*     *     *

Ms. Marie, Jean
Marc, Uncle Jack, and I were seated around the thick oak breakfast table in the
enormous kitchen. The kitchen was the size of most living rooms, with a huge
red-bricked hearth at one end of the room with its original swinging iron arms
still intact. The white-tiled counters I remembered from my youth had been
updated with deep umber granite countertops. The small hand carved cypress
cabinets that had hung on the light sand-colored walls had been replaced by
pine ones painted beige. A gourmet cooktop and twin convection ovens now sat in
the place where the old gas stove had been. Even the Sub-Zero refrigerator was
new and built into the wall next to the ovens.

“Everything
looks so different,” I commented, taking in the renovated kitchen.

“Everythin’
‘cept the floors,” Ms. Marie illuminated as she tapped the old red-bricked
floor with her shoe. “I kept that. Didn’t want to take it out. This here’s a
good ole floor.”

I reached for
the glass of fresh lemonade Ms. Marie had prepared in my honor. “The rest of
the house is still the same as I remember.”

“I didn’t have
the strength to do the whole house,” Ms. Marie declared. “It was bad enough
havin’ the workman in and out of my kitchen for three months.”

Uncle Jack took
a sip from his lemonade. “The place, she sure needed it, but still more needs
to be done.” He put his glass down on the table and stood from his chair. “I
best be getting’ get back to work.” He removed his old blue cap from the front
pocket of his overalls and placed it on his head. “You come and see me again,
Nora T.” He leaned over and kissed my head. “Don’t bring that man of yours when
you come back.”

I thought Uncle
Jack was joking, but when I looked up into his steely blue eyes, I realized he
was serious.

“How can you say
that, Uncle Jack? John is a great guy.”

Uncle Jack moved
away from the table toward the open back door next to the hearth. “Non, he no
good for you, no sir.” He turned and walked out into the afternoon sunshine.

I anxiously
noted the grin spreading across Jean Marc’s thin lips. “My uncle has not taken
the time to get to know my fiancé,” I explained, and then took a sip from my
lemonade.

“No, child.” Ms.
Marie rose from her chair and picked up Uncle Jack’s glass from the table.
“Your uncle, he’s a good judge of how people really are.” She carried the glass
to the sink. “Jacques knew he wasn’t the right man for me, just like he knows
that doctor ain’t the right man for you.”

Jean Marc
frowned at his mother. “Momma, that’s Nora’s business. Stop filling her head
with such nonsense.”

“Nonsense? No
such thing.” She stared at her son for a moment and then smiled. “Jean Marc,
remember when you was a p’tit’ boug and you used to dance with Nora T outside
in the sunlight?” She nodded to me. “You taught her how to waltz, the Acadian
Waltz.”

His dark eyes
nervously darted about the room. “I don’t remember that, Momma.”

“Sure you do.”
She waved at the open kitchen floor in front of her. “Go on over there and show
Nora T the way you used to dance with her.”

“Momma, we’re
not little children anymore,” Jean Marc griped.

“Then dance for
me, once more. Make this vielle happy. Show me how you two used to dance.”

“You’re not an
old woman, Momma.” Jean Marc stood from the table and begrudgingly took my
hand. “Come on. She will pester us until we do this.”

He pulled me to
the center of the kitchen, and when he faced me, my legs became weak. I
swallowed hard as his hand went around my waist and moved my body closer to
his.

“Follow me,
Nora. Just do what I do,” he whispered.

He moved back
and then to the side, and the seductive grace of his movements unnerved me. I
stared down at his feet, hoping to alleviate my growing discomfort.

“Look into my
eyes. Don’t follow my feet,” he said softly to me.

When my eyes
found his, a burst of heat sliced through me. His body pressed into mine as we
swayed back and forth to some unknown melody. I became lost in the sensation of
being held in his strong arms. The aroma of his woody cologne swirled around me
as the warmth from his body quieted my unease. For a moment it was just the two
of us, joined together with no knowledge or care for the world beyond that
kitchen door.

Ms. Marie’s
frenzied clapping broke the spell between us. “That’s it,” she happily cried.

Jean Marc
stopped dancing and stared into my eyes. An unfamiliar passion began coursing
through my veins. I suddenly ached for him, and as the hot flush of longing
rose from my gut, I pulled away.

I directed my
attention to the clock on the stainless microwave, sitting on the kitchen
counter across from me. “I should be heading back to the city,” I mumbled.

Ms. Marie
frowned at me. “So soon, child? It’s still early yet.”

“Nora has things
to do, Momma. She has a fiancé, a wedding to plan, and a very busy career,”
Jean Marc asserted.

“Oh, I don’t
know how you girls today find the energy.” Ms. Marie waved her hand at me. “In
my day raisin’ children and keepin’ house was more than enough.”

I reached for my
purse on the kitchen table. “My fiancé shares your sentiments, Ms. Marie. He
wants me to quit my job and stay home after the wedding.”

“I hope you told
him to go to hell,” Jean Marc barked.

I slung my purse
strap over my shoulder. “No, I’m considering finding another job. Perhaps
something not quite as hectic as my job at the hospital.”

“But I thought
you loved your job. Why are you going to let him dictate your life?” he
demanded.

“He’s not
dictating my life. I’m not even sure if I’m going to get another job,” I
defended, raising my voice to him.

Jean Marc’s
scowl returned. “You shouldn’t let him push you around, Nora. If he loves you,
he won’t care where or how much you work. He should only want you to be happy,
not—”

“Arrete toi,”
Ms. Marie harshly called to her son. “It’s not your place to tell her what to
do, Jean Marc.”

There was a
moment of nervous silence between the three of us, and then Ms. Marie smiled.
“He was always so protective of you when you were a peeshwank. You must forgive
him, Nora T. Old habits die hard in my boy.”

The kitchen
walls began to close in around me. “I must get going,” I insisted as I stepped
over to Ms. Marie and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.”

She placed her
loving arms about me and held me close. “You come back anytime you like.” She
released me and nodded to her son. “Jean Marc can walk you to your car.”

Jean Marc turned
from the table and disappeared into the house.

He was waiting
on the front porch when I stepped out the front door. His eyes impatiently
scanned my body, and then Jean Marc started down the steps. He walked ahead to
the little shell-covered path that led to the long driveway. I had to break
into a slight jog to catch up with him.

“What’s your
problem?” I asked as I came alongside him.

“Nothing,” he muttered
as he kept his eyes on the path ahead.

“All right,
fine. Don’t tell me. Sulk all you want.”

He jerked to a
sudden stop. “You think I’m sulking?”

“You seem
very….” I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, disturbed.”

His eyes were
distracted for a moment by the glister of my diamond engagement ring in the
afternoon sun. “Disturbed?” He gave a disgruntled snort and started back down
the path.

I raced to catch
up with his long stride.

“So what is it?
Is it the business, or your mother, or my uncle? What?”

“There are some
things that need not concern you, Nora. You lead your life and I’ll lead mine.”

I grabbed his
arm and pulled him around to face me. “Jean Marc, talk to me. Let me help.”

“Help?” His face
was contorted with frustration. His eyes were like black fire. “All right, you
want to help? Fine.” He pulled me to him, and then his lips came down hard on
mine.

The heat from
his kiss spread quickly throughout my body, making me forget who I was and
where I was. All I could feel, all I knew was the sensation of his mouth
pressed against mine. Then as quickly as it started, it stopped. He let me go
and pushed me away.

“I shouldn’t
have done that.” He ran his hands through his dark, wavy hair. “Damn it.”

“You want to
explain what just happened?” I questioned, trying to control my shaky voice.

The fire in his
eyes was gone, replaced with the pale light of regret. “I’m sorry. I, ah, lost
my head.” His chilly demeanor instantly returned. “It won’t happen again.”

I searched his
features, desperate for some clue as to what he was thinking. “Jean Marc, is
there something you want to talk about?”

“Talk?” He shook
his head and stepped back from me. “I think I’ve said about everything I need
to say. Good-bye, Nora.” He turned and quickly headed toward his family home.

Chapter 12

Two weeks later
I was sitting in my small office at Uptown Hospital going over my reduced
schedule with Steve. Eager to shave some money from her budget, my supervisor
had happily granted my request to cut back my hours at the hospital. I also put
in for some overdo vacation time in order to plan my wedding.

“Are you doing
this for him, or are you doing this for your mother?” Steve pestered as he sat
across from my desk. “Because I just don’t see you doing this for yourself.” He
paused and his worried blue eyes probed my features. “I thought you liked this
job, Nora.”

I shrugged. “I
can’t keep up these hours and plan a wedding. I’m doing this for my future with
John. I like my job, but to tell you the truth, I want more.”

“Like what? Kids,
the white picket fence, and the golden retriever?”

I shuffled
around a few of the papers on my desk. “No, I want to grow, to be more, to
learn more. I want to change myself.”

“Change
yourself? I’ve never heard you talk like this. When did all this start?”

I opened a red
manila folder in front of me. “I don’t know. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve
been doing some real soul-searching, and I have discovered I really don’t like
myself very much.”

“Soul-searching?
I thought it was called dieting. You look like you’ve lost ten pounds since you
first walked in here with that rock on your finger.” He waved to my left hand.
“I know quite a few brides diet, go dress shopping, reception hunting, and even
fine china reconnoitering, but I have never heard of a bride soul-searching
before the wedding.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Honey, soul-searching
is what you do before the divorce.”

“It’s difficult
to explain, Steve. You’re not a woman. You wouldn’t understand.” I hurriedly
started putting some of the papers into the red folder.