Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I keep telling you people:VIZIO!
It's easy to learn and customisable.
No, I don't have an ownership position in the product.
I got my copy c/w COA off eBay for about $30.00, 10-11 years ago. Mine's pretty old but it meets my needs and keeps up w/ Kathy's plot twists & schema....so far!)
No Kathy, that was not a challenge!
So,is it safe to assume you won't be posting again until you have chapter 132 proof read?
I'm working on the last chapter. It may be broken up into two chapters, I'm not sure yet. Been painfully busy. Sorry for the delay but this was one of the really screwed up chapters that I'm basically having to rewrite after making the other changes in previous chapters. Every time I think I've finished it I find a mistake in timeline, etc. Pain in my butt to be honest, and more than a little frustrating.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
I know all about some of that. Your stories are always great though. A few mistakes are no big deal to me. 
I make enough of my own in my stories lol.
I make enough of my own in my stories lol.Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
I remember hearing of an old southern family member who was working on the family genealogy. The individual decided to clean up a few important dates.
Seems some of the first born babies were "premature" the rest all took nine months.
Seems some of the first born babies were "premature" the rest all took nine months.
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
Hemmmm....
Probably several shotgun weddings also in the mix.
God bless us, America and President Trump.
Texican....
Chapter 104
You’d think I would have sense enough having already had all I could take of the family nonsense that I would just let it go. But I saw my grandfather’s stamp, the racoon track, and knew that I would have to deal with this to the bitter end.
Dear Ava, my petit chou, I write this to you out of love. But not by my hand, which has become frail and useless as my time draws near but in the hand of my cousin Ulises Edgar. He is to hold these documents until you are old enough to understand. What I am about to tell you has been told to no woman in the family besides you and one other and the other only knew some …
The letter was long, rambling, and it took me all night and the next day to translate, as well as the other things in the packet. Basically it confirmed a lot of what Sylvee had guessed from her research, but it also fleshed out some of what I knew with the names of more children, including those in the Edgar family. There was also a map of sorts, hand drawn, of the oldest part of St. Bernard’s cemetery.
And here a mystery was solved though how Pa-pere came to have the knowledge I’m not sure.
Ava, it was never my choice that my brother was passed over. What too many in the family forget is that it isn’t just about being legitimate but the male son must also be of moral character. My father made the choice to pass over Mason and his entire line due to my brother choosing to walk away from the Church and carry on with females he had no business consorting with. I pray every day that you have been saved from that life by your father’s teachings. Donny was always a good boy. I had no qualms giving him the coins that were his birthright … most of the remainder of the Thibodaux portion given to me by your great grandfather to hold in trust. The remainder I would have split between you and DJ but your father said he would keep the ones I gave to him for DJ and I was to give the remainder to my sons. But, I could not. They had not the character that was needed to inherit. And I would not give them to Henley for the same reason. Henley is not a bad boy, but a careless one with his obsession he thinks I don’t know about. I could have straightened him and Martin Edgar out long ago, but they both have secrets that will shadow them for the rest of their lives. So the remaining Thibodaux coins come to you my child. And I also decree that the Frechette portion will also come to you. It is my right and thus I decree it.
The next was something I could have gone my life without knowing but Pa-pere must have thought I was his Confessor there at the end of his life. I have vague recollections of him talking to me of things I didn’t understand. Perhaps this was in some way the same thing.
I love your Granmere no matter what some may say. She is first in my heart. Never doubt that. Never doubt that she loves you ma petit. She is the way she is for reasons I cannot share. And sad I am to say that this must stay between us as her knowing what I am bequeathing to you would hurt her and she’s born enough pain in this life already. Her sister Sylvee had me first but we could not reconcile over the vengeance in her heart for several boys in the families. I turned to your Granmere and discovered a better woman but we foolishly allowed others to separate us. I am ashamed to say I did not love my first wife the way a man should. It was a convenience for both of us, an escape from parents that wanted nothing more than to control us. I didn’t know the pain my marriage caused my true love until she married your grandfather. To escape the temptation to do something foolish I moved my wife and sons deep in the swamp. When my first wife died I came out because I had no choice, and I thought to look around for a caretaker for my children. Then I discovered the straights your granmere was in and against all predictions of failure, I stole her and her children away. All would have been well except we lost the one seed that the Lord allowed us to plant together and your granmere was forever changed. At my passing it is my wish that your granmere goes to live with your Aunt Juliette. Your father has promised to do what is necessary to see this is so and the family carries on in Peace.
Well, maybe that was the olive branch that Dad offered to Aunt Juliette that she threw in his face because obviously something went kerflooey. Might also be the origin of Aunt Juliette trying to break Pa-pere’s will. I’m not sure it matters at this point and I’m certainly not going to ask Aunt Juliette for her side.
There were lots of old Frechette and Thibodaux family documents and pictures. These must have been some that Uncle Henley didn’t know about. In them were pictures of my Pa-pere and his first wife as well as several of him and Aunt Sylvee, his parents, and his grandparents. There were also some of the Edgar family because his first wife was an Edgar. There was his first wife’s journal and a few other things as well. There was also another bunch of papers from the Edgar side of the family in a waterproof binder that I believe must have been what Franc and Fontaine had been after. In those papers was a map to Yula Mae’s island as well as some pictures and a “Receipt Book” of recipes and spells which once belonged to Euphémie Frechette Edgar. From other documents I’m fairly certain that is the “grandmother” the old man spoke of. It wasn’t just a recipe book but had a bunch of curses against people that I recognized – at least their name on the family tree – and why she was cursing them. Ew. With a woman like that raising him – she was the sister in law of Pa-pere’s first wife – it was no wonder that part of the Edgar family turned out twisted.
Maybe I’ll be able to look at all of this new family tree stuff and keep it in perspective but for now all it does is make my skin crawl. I still have no real understanding of why Pa-pere made me his secret-keeper. I still don’t understand the love triangle that Pa-pere, Granmere, and Aunt Sylvee made. I’m not sure I want to understand that part as what Pa-pere did tell me was more than a little TMI and embarrassed me. Most men of my acquaintance are not flowery and emotional as Pa-pere wrote … or dictated as the case may be … but it would appear there is reason for French men to have a certain stereotype.
What I did find yet more passing strange is that Aunt Sylvee married into the Edgar family as well, something that I hadn’t realized as she never gave up her maiden name of Thibodaux. Her husband was a cousin of Pa-pere’s first wife. It is a wonder that half the kids in Breaux Bridge weren’t running around with six toes on each foot, three ears, and an eye stuck in the middle of their forehead the way all the families around here seem to intermarry. I shocked myself feeling relief that I didn’t see the name Jeansonne anywhere in the family tree, but it is a confirmation of the direction I’m leaning.
I suppose that I am putting off the biggest shock is those papers that Pa-pere left for me. I hadn’t found the last of the treasure. I found the coins left in Pa-pere’s treasure box but that was the little that was left from the Thibodaux line. I found the coins hidden by Aunt Sylvee but that is what was left of the Levert portion. I hadn’t really understood what Pa-pere meant that he was bequeathing the Frechette portion to me.
I was too tired and had work to do when I got back to Breaux Bridge from my evening in the swamp. I also had to calm down a few people that were worried, including Higg and Em, both for their own reasons. After those two I had to get with Evelyn to finalize some plans for the Isabelle and dismantling the Old House which seemed to grow more decrepit each time I came to check on things. It was two days before I could finish translating and then get up the nerve to use Pa-pere’s “map” to see what, if any, was left of what he had wanted me to have.
The map led me to the crypt where Aunt Sylvee had been laid to rest, along side her husband. The Edgar mausoleum. I’m not sure anyone involved would have understood the irony of it. Uncle Henley, Martin, Daniel … none of them could have even guessed where it was. In a nondescript mausoleum with “Edgar” carved on the top. Something all three men would have had to pass every time they went to St. Bernard. Heck, you can all but reach in from the wall and touch the back of it. Bizarre.
The cemetery had suffered some damage at some point during the war but the Edgar mausoleum, or at least that one, had been spared. The other damage had been cleaned up but it still made finding the landmarks that Pa-pere used a little difficult, but eventually I did. The mausoleum had once been white washed granite but was black with age and lack of care. There was an odd little plaque on a stone in front of the waist-high structure. On it was an engraving of the Delavoye coat of arms. It is so obvious it is a wonder that Uncle Henley and Martin hadn’t figured it out on their own. They’d certainly known what it looked like. They both knew the Edgars were connected to the original three families multiple times. How they, or anyone else, could overlook the last hiding place of the Delavoye treasure is beyond me. I’m not one to talk though as I had never even thought to wonder where Aunt Sylvee was buried.
Getting that plaque off was no easy feat. I suppose I could have simply broken it but I wanted no questions now or in the future. One grave desecration to deal with in my life was enough. I finally had no choice though but to use a pry-bar to pop it off. Inside was a void and I had to shine my light to find the small metal casket pushed back against the mausoleum wall. I was so not looking forward to opening it as it looked like a something a very young child would have been buried in. It was surprisingly heavy and I almost couldn’t drag it forward.
I pulled it out and found that it was padlocked on all four sides. On each lock was written the surname of one of the families, including Edgar. The keys had been tossed into the cavity and I almost missed them until I gave the the space one more careful look. I’d come prepared and used liquid nails to reattached the plaque and then headed back to my solar buggy – my transportation of the day – with my tools and the casket. No easy task given its weight.
Once back at my camp I pulled in, closed the doors, and set the alarm. The old man may have said he didn’t want the treasure, may have said he was leaving, but he also said “we” too much for my comfort after I’d had time to think about it. I waited a few more hours before finally using the keys and opening the little casket.
You’d think I would have sense enough having already had all I could take of the family nonsense that I would just let it go. But I saw my grandfather’s stamp, the racoon track, and knew that I would have to deal with this to the bitter end.
Dear Ava, my petit chou, I write this to you out of love. But not by my hand, which has become frail and useless as my time draws near but in the hand of my cousin Ulises Edgar. He is to hold these documents until you are old enough to understand. What I am about to tell you has been told to no woman in the family besides you and one other and the other only knew some …
The letter was long, rambling, and it took me all night and the next day to translate, as well as the other things in the packet. Basically it confirmed a lot of what Sylvee had guessed from her research, but it also fleshed out some of what I knew with the names of more children, including those in the Edgar family. There was also a map of sorts, hand drawn, of the oldest part of St. Bernard’s cemetery.
And here a mystery was solved though how Pa-pere came to have the knowledge I’m not sure.
Ava, it was never my choice that my brother was passed over. What too many in the family forget is that it isn’t just about being legitimate but the male son must also be of moral character. My father made the choice to pass over Mason and his entire line due to my brother choosing to walk away from the Church and carry on with females he had no business consorting with. I pray every day that you have been saved from that life by your father’s teachings. Donny was always a good boy. I had no qualms giving him the coins that were his birthright … most of the remainder of the Thibodaux portion given to me by your great grandfather to hold in trust. The remainder I would have split between you and DJ but your father said he would keep the ones I gave to him for DJ and I was to give the remainder to my sons. But, I could not. They had not the character that was needed to inherit. And I would not give them to Henley for the same reason. Henley is not a bad boy, but a careless one with his obsession he thinks I don’t know about. I could have straightened him and Martin Edgar out long ago, but they both have secrets that will shadow them for the rest of their lives. So the remaining Thibodaux coins come to you my child. And I also decree that the Frechette portion will also come to you. It is my right and thus I decree it.
The next was something I could have gone my life without knowing but Pa-pere must have thought I was his Confessor there at the end of his life. I have vague recollections of him talking to me of things I didn’t understand. Perhaps this was in some way the same thing.
I love your Granmere no matter what some may say. She is first in my heart. Never doubt that. Never doubt that she loves you ma petit. She is the way she is for reasons I cannot share. And sad I am to say that this must stay between us as her knowing what I am bequeathing to you would hurt her and she’s born enough pain in this life already. Her sister Sylvee had me first but we could not reconcile over the vengeance in her heart for several boys in the families. I turned to your Granmere and discovered a better woman but we foolishly allowed others to separate us. I am ashamed to say I did not love my first wife the way a man should. It was a convenience for both of us, an escape from parents that wanted nothing more than to control us. I didn’t know the pain my marriage caused my true love until she married your grandfather. To escape the temptation to do something foolish I moved my wife and sons deep in the swamp. When my first wife died I came out because I had no choice, and I thought to look around for a caretaker for my children. Then I discovered the straights your granmere was in and against all predictions of failure, I stole her and her children away. All would have been well except we lost the one seed that the Lord allowed us to plant together and your granmere was forever changed. At my passing it is my wish that your granmere goes to live with your Aunt Juliette. Your father has promised to do what is necessary to see this is so and the family carries on in Peace.
Well, maybe that was the olive branch that Dad offered to Aunt Juliette that she threw in his face because obviously something went kerflooey. Might also be the origin of Aunt Juliette trying to break Pa-pere’s will. I’m not sure it matters at this point and I’m certainly not going to ask Aunt Juliette for her side.
There were lots of old Frechette and Thibodaux family documents and pictures. These must have been some that Uncle Henley didn’t know about. In them were pictures of my Pa-pere and his first wife as well as several of him and Aunt Sylvee, his parents, and his grandparents. There were also some of the Edgar family because his first wife was an Edgar. There was his first wife’s journal and a few other things as well. There was also another bunch of papers from the Edgar side of the family in a waterproof binder that I believe must have been what Franc and Fontaine had been after. In those papers was a map to Yula Mae’s island as well as some pictures and a “Receipt Book” of recipes and spells which once belonged to Euphémie Frechette Edgar. From other documents I’m fairly certain that is the “grandmother” the old man spoke of. It wasn’t just a recipe book but had a bunch of curses against people that I recognized – at least their name on the family tree – and why she was cursing them. Ew. With a woman like that raising him – she was the sister in law of Pa-pere’s first wife – it was no wonder that part of the Edgar family turned out twisted.
Maybe I’ll be able to look at all of this new family tree stuff and keep it in perspective but for now all it does is make my skin crawl. I still have no real understanding of why Pa-pere made me his secret-keeper. I still don’t understand the love triangle that Pa-pere, Granmere, and Aunt Sylvee made. I’m not sure I want to understand that part as what Pa-pere did tell me was more than a little TMI and embarrassed me. Most men of my acquaintance are not flowery and emotional as Pa-pere wrote … or dictated as the case may be … but it would appear there is reason for French men to have a certain stereotype.
What I did find yet more passing strange is that Aunt Sylvee married into the Edgar family as well, something that I hadn’t realized as she never gave up her maiden name of Thibodaux. Her husband was a cousin of Pa-pere’s first wife. It is a wonder that half the kids in Breaux Bridge weren’t running around with six toes on each foot, three ears, and an eye stuck in the middle of their forehead the way all the families around here seem to intermarry. I shocked myself feeling relief that I didn’t see the name Jeansonne anywhere in the family tree, but it is a confirmation of the direction I’m leaning.
I suppose that I am putting off the biggest shock is those papers that Pa-pere left for me. I hadn’t found the last of the treasure. I found the coins left in Pa-pere’s treasure box but that was the little that was left from the Thibodaux line. I found the coins hidden by Aunt Sylvee but that is what was left of the Levert portion. I hadn’t really understood what Pa-pere meant that he was bequeathing the Frechette portion to me.
I was too tired and had work to do when I got back to Breaux Bridge from my evening in the swamp. I also had to calm down a few people that were worried, including Higg and Em, both for their own reasons. After those two I had to get with Evelyn to finalize some plans for the Isabelle and dismantling the Old House which seemed to grow more decrepit each time I came to check on things. It was two days before I could finish translating and then get up the nerve to use Pa-pere’s “map” to see what, if any, was left of what he had wanted me to have.
The map led me to the crypt where Aunt Sylvee had been laid to rest, along side her husband. The Edgar mausoleum. I’m not sure anyone involved would have understood the irony of it. Uncle Henley, Martin, Daniel … none of them could have even guessed where it was. In a nondescript mausoleum with “Edgar” carved on the top. Something all three men would have had to pass every time they went to St. Bernard. Heck, you can all but reach in from the wall and touch the back of it. Bizarre.
The cemetery had suffered some damage at some point during the war but the Edgar mausoleum, or at least that one, had been spared. The other damage had been cleaned up but it still made finding the landmarks that Pa-pere used a little difficult, but eventually I did. The mausoleum had once been white washed granite but was black with age and lack of care. There was an odd little plaque on a stone in front of the waist-high structure. On it was an engraving of the Delavoye coat of arms. It is so obvious it is a wonder that Uncle Henley and Martin hadn’t figured it out on their own. They’d certainly known what it looked like. They both knew the Edgars were connected to the original three families multiple times. How they, or anyone else, could overlook the last hiding place of the Delavoye treasure is beyond me. I’m not one to talk though as I had never even thought to wonder where Aunt Sylvee was buried.
Getting that plaque off was no easy feat. I suppose I could have simply broken it but I wanted no questions now or in the future. One grave desecration to deal with in my life was enough. I finally had no choice though but to use a pry-bar to pop it off. Inside was a void and I had to shine my light to find the small metal casket pushed back against the mausoleum wall. I was so not looking forward to opening it as it looked like a something a very young child would have been buried in. It was surprisingly heavy and I almost couldn’t drag it forward.
I pulled it out and found that it was padlocked on all four sides. On each lock was written the surname of one of the families, including Edgar. The keys had been tossed into the cavity and I almost missed them until I gave the the space one more careful look. I’d come prepared and used liquid nails to reattached the plaque and then headed back to my solar buggy – my transportation of the day – with my tools and the casket. No easy task given its weight.
Once back at my camp I pulled in, closed the doors, and set the alarm. The old man may have said he didn’t want the treasure, may have said he was leaving, but he also said “we” too much for my comfort after I’d had time to think about it. I waited a few more hours before finally using the keys and opening the little casket.
There is an epilogue and I will try and get it posted tonight but it might be Monday. Just keep checking if you are interested.
-------------------------------------------
Chapter 105
“Merde! Did you just say what I thought you said?!”
I winced. “Em, turn it down a bit.”
All anger turned to concern, and he asked, “You got another migraine? That’s the fifth one this …”
“No lectures. If it makes you feel better, I already have an appointment to get the damn hearing aid adjusted again.”
He snorted. “Finally.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But you have to admit I have a doggone good reason for a headache this time.”
He was quiet for a moment before grumbling, “Sounds like a damn ghost story like we told around the campfire as kids.”
“Tell me about it.” I scratched my head, the remnants of the last round of migraine tabs making the skin on my head feel like it was crawling away. “I can’t believe Pa-pere would dump this on me. I had enough trouble with the ones before, what the heck am I supposed to do with all these?”
“Anything you want to Sweetheart.”
“Does tossing them in Bayou Teche count?”
“Anything pretty much covers that option.”
I heard in his tone that Em wasn’t touching what I’d found. Over the next couple of weeks he wasn’t just not touching them or the subject, it seemed to be creating some distance between us. And not by my choice. I kept myself as busy as I could because the next month he seemed to be unavailable most of the times that I tried to vid call him and it felt like I was losing him. He’d text me back, usually a day or two later, saying work was a bear but that was it. The few vid calls he looked like he wasn’t sleeping well and had serious cases of acid indigestion. He was trying to hide it but something was making him fritzy but he wouldn’t talk about it. I put it down to maybe him being called up by those who we didn’t talk about. Not like I didn’t have my own work to do as well and to that end the day finally arrived that Phase 2 was to start.
“You sure about this Cap?”
“Higg, you and Howard are perfectly capable of handling things here in New Orleans. I have full confidence in you.”
She snorted. “I have full confidence in us also. I’m talking about you. It’s going to be a month before a crew can get to your job and you’re going to be alone. What about your migraines? What if there’s an accident and there’s no one around to check up on you? What if …?”
“One, the doc fixed the short circuit, migraines are down to regular ol’ headaches.”
“But …”
“Two, accidents happen. I’ll be as careful as I can and keep a phone on me.”
“But …”
“Three, we can what-if things to death but … it’s time Higg. I hang around anymore and people are going to think I’m too scared to cut loose. That is not an impression I want to give anyone, especially not the crews or the people we contract with.”
She finally agreed but still she found nearly a dozen things I needed to do before I could climb into the recently purchased RV which is what I planned to live in until I could get around to figuring out if I still had a dream to fulfill in Breaux Bridge or not.
I was in my former office filling out the last page of the last set of forms that Higg had said were an absolute necessity. I was wondering whether I would make Breaux Bridge before dark at this point when I heard a commotion in the waiting area.
“What the?” I wondered when it sounded like a herd of elephants were doing the fandango.
I picked up the forms and opened the door to hear Higg in high cranky mode, “Could you cut it any closer?! I had to dig up the worst crapwork to try and keep her here. When Cap is ready to go, she’s ready to go.”
Walked out saying, “Damn straight so what … is …… the …….” What I was seeing did not compute. “Que se passe-t-il?”
Men that I didn’t recognized mixed with men and women that I did … until I realized those men had once been boys that I did recognize. I looked at Higg who said, “Wasn’t my idea Cap but he insisted.”
Next, my eyes found Zeb who was trying not to laugh while Denise was all but pounding on him and telling him to stop before he made me run off and ruin everything. In the back I saw an obviously overwhelmed man and his wife … Thib and Vadie … who seemed to just add to the twilight zone feeling I was getting. Then a boy – young man really – pushed his way to the front. “Hi Ava! Recognize me?”
I jumped like I’d been goosed. “Fabrice?! Yeezus, what are you doing boy? Sleeping in fertilizer every chance you get?” I yelped causing several people to snicker.
That’s when the hugging and handshaking started and I was on the raw edge of panic by the time everyone had got at me.
“My turn.”
I blinked and there stood Em and if possible, he looked even closer to panic than me.
He said in a rush, “You can forgive me later, but this is the only thing I could think of that would prove that I was serious … about you … about us.”
“Uh … serious?”
He took a deep breath and then got down on one knee. “I had a whole damn speech memorized but I can’t remember a god cursed word of it, so this is going to have to do. Ava Maxine Thibodaux, will you marry me? And for the Mother of God, please say yes. I feel mais quel con!”
I put my finger in my bad ear and tried to see if my hearing aid was playing tricks. Most everyone thought that was hilarious, but I wasn’t playing. Em looked like he was about to pass out.
Slowly, trying not to make a fool of myself, I asked, “Did you really just ask …?”
“Yes! For God’s sake Ava …”
I looked at him and then around at all the others in the room … from those I’d known since Cubbies to those men and women that were on my newest crews. Then I looked back down at Em who was turning an alarming shade of gray.
“Don’t you dare pass out Emerick Jeansonne. I’m gonna enjoy this is if kills us both.”
“You sure?”
Slowly I let the smile bloom on my face, the one that seemed to have gone out of use even before I left Florida the first time. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I … said … yes.”
He kissed my hand as well as any Prince Charming has ever even thought about then startled me by saying, “Great. Now please don’t kill me. I just refuse to risk any more delays.”
For the second time I wondered if my hearing aid was acting up, but I didn’t have long to wonder … or to threaten to kill him very dead and then some.
I was dragged off by Higg, Denise, and Vadie up to my sometimes sleeping quarters. “What the?!” was all I could say second time running.
Denise couldn’t stop laughing. Vadie was a more sober version of her old self but even she was smiling. Higg reminded me of an admiral about to launch a major campaign.
In no time they had me out of my work clothes and into several bits of nonsense. “Where did this come from?!” I complained. “I don’t look like myself.”
Denise said, “Sure you do. It’s just the self you keep hidden.”
“It makes me look … like someone else!”
Higg snorted, “Well you aren’t, but you aren’t wearing beige wallpaper to the church so deal Cap.”
It was a wedding dress … and one that Em had picked out himself. All three women sighed and said that Em had great taste and was a true romantic. I have to admit they were correct. I just wasn’t so sure where the idea for this particular dress had come from because not even in my wildest dreams had I ever worn anything like it. The gown was a floor-length fantasy from the 1920s, embellished and gilded with just enough tassel to suggest the lady wearing it was also had the independence of a Flapper. There was also a thigh slit reminiscent of some of the reigning queens of the silver screen. Somehow the three women managed to work magic with my hair and I didn’t look like an Irish Setter with a bad perm despite the haywire corkscrews they refused to let me iron out. Instead of a veil there was a headband with sequins and feathers that somehow managed to look just right.
It was like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. They kept telling me to just go with the flow. Every objection I made was barely half-hearted if that, and more out of habit than anything else.
When I walked down the stairs people were so busy socializing that no one notice. Out of habit I gave my “signs up!” whistle to cut through the noise. Every head turned my way and quite a few mouths fell open and silent. It was embarrassing and I could feel the sweat start popping out in places that I didn’t want it to show. I shrugged. “So … are we doing this or what?” I asked looking for Em. Possibly to kill him, I hadn’t quite decided yet.
There was a different kind of noise at that point, one that reminded me of wound up cubbies at a District Jamboree that had eaten way too many sweets. Zeb stepped up and said, “C’mon before Em expires from the heat. Man he’s crazy.”
Trying to figure out that bit of hogwash I was nearly carried on a sea of my old and new friends out the door. I had to blink and this time wondered if the migraines hadn’t finally short circuited my brain completely. Pulled up to the curb was a horse and carriage like used to take tourists around the French Quarter and standing beside it was Em … an Em that was dressed in a coat and tails from the same era as my dress. And yes he did look like he was about to pass out from the heat, but his face looked like a big mouth bass and for some reason all I could think of was that silly fish Dad used to have in his shop. “Don’t worry. Be happy.”
I looked at him and started grinning all over again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a girl, so get over it.”
Carefully, doing his best not to crush the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand, he took me in his arms and said, “Not in this lifetime or what comes next.”
Getting up into the carriage was nearly a girly show with all the leg I was showing. It generated enough wolf-whistles to be heard all over the city. Zeb told Em, “Meetcha there!” I only had a moment to wonder before the carriage started off.
“Em?”
“Just tell me I’m not making a mess of this,” he asked once again gray faced, this time with worry. “We’ll do it your way if this …”
“I never imagined this part Em. Never dared. I’m willing to follow your lead on this part so long as we go partners the rest of the way.”
“Gawd yes,” he whispered, taking my hand in a near death grip, like he was afraid I might decide to climb out of the carriage while it was moving.
It wasn’t a far ride, but it drew attention. Or the horse and carriage did, or maybe it was just the general spectacle of it all. Despite how long ago the war had ended, New Orleans was still recovering, and the economy and population wasn’t what it once was. I realized we were pulling into Jackson Square and up to Saint Louis Cathedral, those location of one of the first contracts that I’d won when people finally started taking me seriously.
“Emerick Jeansonne, what are you getting us into? I feel like Cinderella.”
“No, you aren’t a princess.” I turned to look at him. “You’re a queen and deserve to be treated that way.”
“Queen of Crapwork, that’s me,” I said thinking it was a good joke.
But Em said seriously. “Naw. Queen of my heart. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head from the day I met you and you just some crazy girl child thinking you could ride a bike all the way from Florida during a war. Then somehow, some way, you climbed into my soul and you’ve been there ever since Cher. No one could or will ever take your place.”
Well what does a girl say to something of that level of romantic nonsense?
We got out of the carriage and I was met by Zeb and Denise. It was Denise’s job to make sure everything was still where it was supposed to be and Zeb’s job to walk me down the aisle. Finally it was time.
Zeb drew breath and then said, “Look, you’ve given lots of great advice since we were Cubs but maybe, this time, I can give you some.”
“Ya think?” I asked him.
He’d changed into his retirement version of dress uniform. “Yeah. Um … look. Marriage is great and all. It’s like locking down all the paperwork and the project to make Eagle. But to be an Eagle … little more to it than just the project. Er …” He made a face. “Geez this sounded better when I first came up with it.”
I chuckled and looked through the doors to see Em standing nervously down the aisle. “No. I get it. And … it’s just right. So say it already.”
Zeb relaxed. “No. I don’t think I need to.” He said giving me a serious going over with his eyes. “You get it already. It’s not about making Eagle … it’s about being Eagle. Just … on the hard days … you give me a call. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t, but at least you know I’ve been there and … and … well … I always will be. Best friends forever and all that.”
“Don’t you dare make me ruin this make up job you goof. There’s a couple of fems already giving us laser beam eyes.” We both chuckled a little damply and we got the show on the road.
I gotta admit I don’t remember much about the service except all the kneeling and Latin the priest seemed to need to say over us. Good gravy, it is like he’d been saving it all up for quite some time and I was to find out it was the first full house wedding the church had seen since the war ended. And boy was there a full house.
As we walked out, after getting our pictures taken by what felt like ‘leventy dozen photographers, there was no bread crumbs, rice, or birdseed thrown – food, even for animals, was still something that wasn’t anything your wasted. Not to mention that pigeon was on the menu and most no longer congregated where humans could trap them. There was still a crowd of people. Seems like news travels fast as it ever did, and everyone wanted … needed … a reason to celebrate.
We finally managed to climb in the back of what looked like a renovated taxi from by-gone days but which I could, by its smell, tell had been converted to biodiesel.
“Lookin’ good Cap!”
I was a bit surprised. “I thought you were supposed to be on the Jacksonville crew George.”
“Am. We came back for the weekend. None of us wanted to miss this.”
I looked at Em and asked, “This?”
He just smiled despite being a shade of pale that wasn’t entirely healthy. “Er … you’ll see.”
And indeed I did. About midway through Em pulled me to a quiet corner … relatively quiet corner … at the Convention Center banquet hall. “Sorry. I had just planned a small party but … someone said something to someone else and then other people heard and wanted to help and … then Ma Mere got involved and called the rest of the old ladies and they called old friends here in the city that called your new friends and … it kinda got away from me.”
“Relax, it’s all good.”
“Is it Cher? I … didn’t rush you?”
“Rush? I feel like I been waiting on you my whole life.”
“Do tell,” he said finally beginning to smile and lose the worry that’d been hiding in his eyes ever since we left the church.
“Just did,” I told him.
“Er … even … uh …”
“I’ve faced plenty of battles in this life, but your mother turns out isn’t one of the enemy.”
“But she said …”
I snorted. “Stop worrying it to death. She’s not going to run me off. And … in her own way she just wants the best for you. I agree with her on that. Everything else? We’ll take it as it comes.” The noise level was only going up. “Any chance we can get out of here sometime soon? We did the proposal, the church, photographs, reception, and cake. We got the rest of our lives to get started now and I’d like to get to it while we’re both young enough to enjoy it.”
Finally he was laughing. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”
-------------------------------------------
Chapter 105
“Merde! Did you just say what I thought you said?!”
I winced. “Em, turn it down a bit.”
All anger turned to concern, and he asked, “You got another migraine? That’s the fifth one this …”
“No lectures. If it makes you feel better, I already have an appointment to get the damn hearing aid adjusted again.”
He snorted. “Finally.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But you have to admit I have a doggone good reason for a headache this time.”
He was quiet for a moment before grumbling, “Sounds like a damn ghost story like we told around the campfire as kids.”
“Tell me about it.” I scratched my head, the remnants of the last round of migraine tabs making the skin on my head feel like it was crawling away. “I can’t believe Pa-pere would dump this on me. I had enough trouble with the ones before, what the heck am I supposed to do with all these?”
“Anything you want to Sweetheart.”
“Does tossing them in Bayou Teche count?”
“Anything pretty much covers that option.”
I heard in his tone that Em wasn’t touching what I’d found. Over the next couple of weeks he wasn’t just not touching them or the subject, it seemed to be creating some distance between us. And not by my choice. I kept myself as busy as I could because the next month he seemed to be unavailable most of the times that I tried to vid call him and it felt like I was losing him. He’d text me back, usually a day or two later, saying work was a bear but that was it. The few vid calls he looked like he wasn’t sleeping well and had serious cases of acid indigestion. He was trying to hide it but something was making him fritzy but he wouldn’t talk about it. I put it down to maybe him being called up by those who we didn’t talk about. Not like I didn’t have my own work to do as well and to that end the day finally arrived that Phase 2 was to start.
“You sure about this Cap?”
“Higg, you and Howard are perfectly capable of handling things here in New Orleans. I have full confidence in you.”
She snorted. “I have full confidence in us also. I’m talking about you. It’s going to be a month before a crew can get to your job and you’re going to be alone. What about your migraines? What if there’s an accident and there’s no one around to check up on you? What if …?”
“One, the doc fixed the short circuit, migraines are down to regular ol’ headaches.”
“But …”
“Two, accidents happen. I’ll be as careful as I can and keep a phone on me.”
“But …”
“Three, we can what-if things to death but … it’s time Higg. I hang around anymore and people are going to think I’m too scared to cut loose. That is not an impression I want to give anyone, especially not the crews or the people we contract with.”
She finally agreed but still she found nearly a dozen things I needed to do before I could climb into the recently purchased RV which is what I planned to live in until I could get around to figuring out if I still had a dream to fulfill in Breaux Bridge or not.
I was in my former office filling out the last page of the last set of forms that Higg had said were an absolute necessity. I was wondering whether I would make Breaux Bridge before dark at this point when I heard a commotion in the waiting area.
“What the?” I wondered when it sounded like a herd of elephants were doing the fandango.
I picked up the forms and opened the door to hear Higg in high cranky mode, “Could you cut it any closer?! I had to dig up the worst crapwork to try and keep her here. When Cap is ready to go, she’s ready to go.”
Walked out saying, “Damn straight so what … is …… the …….” What I was seeing did not compute. “Que se passe-t-il?”
Men that I didn’t recognized mixed with men and women that I did … until I realized those men had once been boys that I did recognize. I looked at Higg who said, “Wasn’t my idea Cap but he insisted.”
Next, my eyes found Zeb who was trying not to laugh while Denise was all but pounding on him and telling him to stop before he made me run off and ruin everything. In the back I saw an obviously overwhelmed man and his wife … Thib and Vadie … who seemed to just add to the twilight zone feeling I was getting. Then a boy – young man really – pushed his way to the front. “Hi Ava! Recognize me?”
I jumped like I’d been goosed. “Fabrice?! Yeezus, what are you doing boy? Sleeping in fertilizer every chance you get?” I yelped causing several people to snicker.
That’s when the hugging and handshaking started and I was on the raw edge of panic by the time everyone had got at me.
“My turn.”
I blinked and there stood Em and if possible, he looked even closer to panic than me.
He said in a rush, “You can forgive me later, but this is the only thing I could think of that would prove that I was serious … about you … about us.”
“Uh … serious?”
He took a deep breath and then got down on one knee. “I had a whole damn speech memorized but I can’t remember a god cursed word of it, so this is going to have to do. Ava Maxine Thibodaux, will you marry me? And for the Mother of God, please say yes. I feel mais quel con!”
I put my finger in my bad ear and tried to see if my hearing aid was playing tricks. Most everyone thought that was hilarious, but I wasn’t playing. Em looked like he was about to pass out.
Slowly, trying not to make a fool of myself, I asked, “Did you really just ask …?”
“Yes! For God’s sake Ava …”
I looked at him and then around at all the others in the room … from those I’d known since Cubbies to those men and women that were on my newest crews. Then I looked back down at Em who was turning an alarming shade of gray.
“Don’t you dare pass out Emerick Jeansonne. I’m gonna enjoy this is if kills us both.”
“You sure?”
Slowly I let the smile bloom on my face, the one that seemed to have gone out of use even before I left Florida the first time. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I … said … yes.”
He kissed my hand as well as any Prince Charming has ever even thought about then startled me by saying, “Great. Now please don’t kill me. I just refuse to risk any more delays.”
For the second time I wondered if my hearing aid was acting up, but I didn’t have long to wonder … or to threaten to kill him very dead and then some.
I was dragged off by Higg, Denise, and Vadie up to my sometimes sleeping quarters. “What the?!” was all I could say second time running.
Denise couldn’t stop laughing. Vadie was a more sober version of her old self but even she was smiling. Higg reminded me of an admiral about to launch a major campaign.
In no time they had me out of my work clothes and into several bits of nonsense. “Where did this come from?!” I complained. “I don’t look like myself.”
Denise said, “Sure you do. It’s just the self you keep hidden.”
“It makes me look … like someone else!”
Higg snorted, “Well you aren’t, but you aren’t wearing beige wallpaper to the church so deal Cap.”
It was a wedding dress … and one that Em had picked out himself. All three women sighed and said that Em had great taste and was a true romantic. I have to admit they were correct. I just wasn’t so sure where the idea for this particular dress had come from because not even in my wildest dreams had I ever worn anything like it. The gown was a floor-length fantasy from the 1920s, embellished and gilded with just enough tassel to suggest the lady wearing it was also had the independence of a Flapper. There was also a thigh slit reminiscent of some of the reigning queens of the silver screen. Somehow the three women managed to work magic with my hair and I didn’t look like an Irish Setter with a bad perm despite the haywire corkscrews they refused to let me iron out. Instead of a veil there was a headband with sequins and feathers that somehow managed to look just right.
It was like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. They kept telling me to just go with the flow. Every objection I made was barely half-hearted if that, and more out of habit than anything else.
When I walked down the stairs people were so busy socializing that no one notice. Out of habit I gave my “signs up!” whistle to cut through the noise. Every head turned my way and quite a few mouths fell open and silent. It was embarrassing and I could feel the sweat start popping out in places that I didn’t want it to show. I shrugged. “So … are we doing this or what?” I asked looking for Em. Possibly to kill him, I hadn’t quite decided yet.
There was a different kind of noise at that point, one that reminded me of wound up cubbies at a District Jamboree that had eaten way too many sweets. Zeb stepped up and said, “C’mon before Em expires from the heat. Man he’s crazy.”
Trying to figure out that bit of hogwash I was nearly carried on a sea of my old and new friends out the door. I had to blink and this time wondered if the migraines hadn’t finally short circuited my brain completely. Pulled up to the curb was a horse and carriage like used to take tourists around the French Quarter and standing beside it was Em … an Em that was dressed in a coat and tails from the same era as my dress. And yes he did look like he was about to pass out from the heat, but his face looked like a big mouth bass and for some reason all I could think of was that silly fish Dad used to have in his shop. “Don’t worry. Be happy.”
I looked at him and started grinning all over again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a girl, so get over it.”
Carefully, doing his best not to crush the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand, he took me in his arms and said, “Not in this lifetime or what comes next.”
Getting up into the carriage was nearly a girly show with all the leg I was showing. It generated enough wolf-whistles to be heard all over the city. Zeb told Em, “Meetcha there!” I only had a moment to wonder before the carriage started off.
“Em?”
“Just tell me I’m not making a mess of this,” he asked once again gray faced, this time with worry. “We’ll do it your way if this …”
“I never imagined this part Em. Never dared. I’m willing to follow your lead on this part so long as we go partners the rest of the way.”
“Gawd yes,” he whispered, taking my hand in a near death grip, like he was afraid I might decide to climb out of the carriage while it was moving.
It wasn’t a far ride, but it drew attention. Or the horse and carriage did, or maybe it was just the general spectacle of it all. Despite how long ago the war had ended, New Orleans was still recovering, and the economy and population wasn’t what it once was. I realized we were pulling into Jackson Square and up to Saint Louis Cathedral, those location of one of the first contracts that I’d won when people finally started taking me seriously.
“Emerick Jeansonne, what are you getting us into? I feel like Cinderella.”
“No, you aren’t a princess.” I turned to look at him. “You’re a queen and deserve to be treated that way.”
“Queen of Crapwork, that’s me,” I said thinking it was a good joke.
But Em said seriously. “Naw. Queen of my heart. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head from the day I met you and you just some crazy girl child thinking you could ride a bike all the way from Florida during a war. Then somehow, some way, you climbed into my soul and you’ve been there ever since Cher. No one could or will ever take your place.”
Well what does a girl say to something of that level of romantic nonsense?
We got out of the carriage and I was met by Zeb and Denise. It was Denise’s job to make sure everything was still where it was supposed to be and Zeb’s job to walk me down the aisle. Finally it was time.
Zeb drew breath and then said, “Look, you’ve given lots of great advice since we were Cubs but maybe, this time, I can give you some.”
“Ya think?” I asked him.
He’d changed into his retirement version of dress uniform. “Yeah. Um … look. Marriage is great and all. It’s like locking down all the paperwork and the project to make Eagle. But to be an Eagle … little more to it than just the project. Er …” He made a face. “Geez this sounded better when I first came up with it.”
I chuckled and looked through the doors to see Em standing nervously down the aisle. “No. I get it. And … it’s just right. So say it already.”
Zeb relaxed. “No. I don’t think I need to.” He said giving me a serious going over with his eyes. “You get it already. It’s not about making Eagle … it’s about being Eagle. Just … on the hard days … you give me a call. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t, but at least you know I’ve been there and … and … well … I always will be. Best friends forever and all that.”
“Don’t you dare make me ruin this make up job you goof. There’s a couple of fems already giving us laser beam eyes.” We both chuckled a little damply and we got the show on the road.
I gotta admit I don’t remember much about the service except all the kneeling and Latin the priest seemed to need to say over us. Good gravy, it is like he’d been saving it all up for quite some time and I was to find out it was the first full house wedding the church had seen since the war ended. And boy was there a full house.
As we walked out, after getting our pictures taken by what felt like ‘leventy dozen photographers, there was no bread crumbs, rice, or birdseed thrown – food, even for animals, was still something that wasn’t anything your wasted. Not to mention that pigeon was on the menu and most no longer congregated where humans could trap them. There was still a crowd of people. Seems like news travels fast as it ever did, and everyone wanted … needed … a reason to celebrate.
We finally managed to climb in the back of what looked like a renovated taxi from by-gone days but which I could, by its smell, tell had been converted to biodiesel.
“Lookin’ good Cap!”
I was a bit surprised. “I thought you were supposed to be on the Jacksonville crew George.”
“Am. We came back for the weekend. None of us wanted to miss this.”
I looked at Em and asked, “This?”
He just smiled despite being a shade of pale that wasn’t entirely healthy. “Er … you’ll see.”
And indeed I did. About midway through Em pulled me to a quiet corner … relatively quiet corner … at the Convention Center banquet hall. “Sorry. I had just planned a small party but … someone said something to someone else and then other people heard and wanted to help and … then Ma Mere got involved and called the rest of the old ladies and they called old friends here in the city that called your new friends and … it kinda got away from me.”
“Relax, it’s all good.”
“Is it Cher? I … didn’t rush you?”
“Rush? I feel like I been waiting on you my whole life.”
“Do tell,” he said finally beginning to smile and lose the worry that’d been hiding in his eyes ever since we left the church.
“Just did,” I told him.
“Er … even … uh …”
“I’ve faced plenty of battles in this life, but your mother turns out isn’t one of the enemy.”
“But she said …”
I snorted. “Stop worrying it to death. She’s not going to run me off. And … in her own way she just wants the best for you. I agree with her on that. Everything else? We’ll take it as it comes.” The noise level was only going up. “Any chance we can get out of here sometime soon? We did the proposal, the church, photographs, reception, and cake. We got the rest of our lives to get started now and I’d like to get to it while we’re both young enough to enjoy it.”
Finally he was laughing. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”
"There is an epilogue and I will try and get it posted tonight but it might be Monday. "
Is this where we learn of their fourteen kids and their youngest daughter's moving back to NW Florida? Beta's adventures and misadventures filling another 120 chapters.
Of course this could wait until Veta, Emi, and a few others get sorted out.
Is this where we learn of their fourteen kids and their youngest daughter's moving back to NW Florida? Beta's adventures and misadventures filling another 120 chapters.
Of course this could wait until Veta, Emi, and a few others get sorted out.
???
I'm still deciding what comes after Ava. I'd like to finish one of the other ones but I'd also like to post something new here no one else has seen. Veta is still going and there are several chapters that I need to post but have been busy untangling the mess I made of Ava and all the rest of my real life. None of it is going to happen before the beginning of the year. I'd really like to try and breathe for what is left of December and enjoy Christmas. I didn't get much of that in November, Our lives are just crazy right now and my "help" is moving into the next stage of adulthood ... oldest son moved out and is working around 50 hours a week, one daughter just started a full time position in microbiology and seems that she is hardly home and when she is she's exhausted. The other daughter is in her senior year of college, helping with the business phones and is a barista in what spare time she has. Both girls are in serious relationships which they deserve time for. And even the 16 year old (soon to be 17) is working about 30 hours a week at a local car wash. My parents live down the street and need me for help and company. And hubby and I would like to get an hour or two of interrupted minutes a week which doesn't seem to happen as often as we'd like.
So ...
I know I'm slow but there's reasons and one of my New Years resolutions is to finish up several stories this coming year. Which ones I don't know. Depends on which ones are willing to be written between all the other mess in my life and the government wanting our souls on a silver platter as well.
Bps1691
Veteran Member
I enjoy your writings so much Kathy. I for one am always happy when ever you make the time to add to one of your stories or to finish one.
There are very few good authors left that are kind enough to publish their works for fee on sites like this.
Your efforts are much appreciated and enjoyed by many.
There are very few good authors left that are kind enough to publish their works for fee on sites like this.
Your efforts are much appreciated and enjoyed by many.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Lovely just lovely. Yes life has it's ups and downs We all know that. But in-between is good stuff to make memories with. Thank you. Looking forward to the finish.
teedee
Veteran Member
Thanks for this story. As others have said your stories have all been wonderful. I am having problems with many of the other apocalyptic stories but yours always seem better. It may be because they are written from a womans or perhaps more correctly girls point of view. Thank you dear lady.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Waiting on the epilogue.... it will either:
1. Tie this all up
or
2. Open the gate on a new chapter or maybe a new generation.
Personally I wouldn't mind either.
Take us where you want Kathy; you're the conductor on this train and in charge of laying the tracks too.
Have a nice weekend; I'm going to go back to ground zero & read the whole thing again so my weekend (minus honey-do of course) is mapped out.
G.
1. Tie this all up
or
2. Open the gate on a new chapter or maybe a new generation.
Personally I wouldn't mind either.
Take us where you want Kathy; you're the conductor on this train and in charge of laying the tracks too.
Have a nice weekend; I'm going to go back to ground zero & read the whole thing again so my weekend (minus honey-do of course) is mapped out.
G.
Sportsman
Veteran Member
Thank you! From escaping the orphanage to marriage sure was a twisty road and a fun read!
Much as I’ll miss the chapters, if I get a vote (though we really shouldn’t), I‘d vote that you ignore the creative writing until next year and enjoy the Christmas season with your family. We’re addicts and will be here whenever you return.
Thanks again, Merry Christmas.
Much as I’ll miss the chapters, if I get a vote (though we really shouldn’t), I‘d vote that you ignore the creative writing until next year and enjoy the Christmas season with your family. We’re addicts and will be here whenever you return.
Thanks again, Merry Christmas.
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Thank you so very much dear Kathy!
Lake Lili
Veteran Member
Thank you Kathy! Epilogues are fun but they do require a level of weaving along the borders of the cloth that can be quite complex. So we will enjoy greatly when you have the chance. Meantime enjoy your family and the holidays. Many thanks for you story telling and as always wishing you every blessing.
Lili
Lili
Hilblyswife
Contributing Member
Thank you, Kathy. Stories can wait. A person's well-being, yours, and your family's, is more important. Relax, and Enjoy your Christmas season.
Catshooter
Contributing Member
For your next work, if I get a vote I'll say Up on Hartford Ridge. I really like that one. Next up would be Trash to Treasure.
Thanks for your hard work, and Merry Christmas to you and your family.
Cat
Thanks for your hard work, and Merry Christmas to you and your family.
Cat
Epilogue
“Ma mere! Jobert didn’t get rid of that baby gator like you told him to! And he found a bunch more!! I need to take a shower. I stink from dance class and Bobby Dunham is going to be here in an hour!”
Em looks over at me and asks, “Who the hell is Bobby Dunham?”
“Softball coach’s son. He’s going to help her work on her fast pitch.”
“Sure he is,” he growled.
“Don’t worry Em. They’re just ten years old. Edmee may be thinking of boys like that but trust me, Bobby isn’t. Plus, they’ll be in the side yard and Jules is going to be out there with some of his friends working on a new pirogue. That’s more than likely the real reason Bobby is coming over. He wants to have an in with the older guys.”
“Edmee is NOT going to be the only girl out there.”
I shook my head at his crankies. “Of course not. You really think Josette and her friends are going to give up the chance to preen in front of a bunch of sixteen-year-old males with hot bods?”
“With what?!” he yelped getting up from the table and starting to pace, leaning heavily on the cane he still had to use for balance.
I laughed. “Relax. Jules is nearly as big a grumpy gator as you when it comes to the girls. He’s not going to let anything happen.”
“When did our sweet little tomboys turn into girls?” he complained.
“They’ve always been girls so get over it. We’ve just given them more scope to discover what kind of girl they want to be than I had.”
He limped over to me and kissed me. “You didn’t turn out so bad.”
“Glad you think so. Want me to rub your back with liniment?”
“Mmmmm. Rub my back … some other places too,” he said getting the look in his eyes that never seemed to be far away.
I laughed. “Oh you. That’s how I got caught with these two.”
We both looked down at my oversized belly. Em says, “Six is my limit Ava. I’m already gonna be an old man before these two will need me.”
At his troubled look I said, “Stop thinking those kinds of thoughts Emerick Jeansonne. None of us are promised tomorrow, all we can do is make the best of today and do a little planning. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”
“I’m fifty-two years old Ava. I’m walking like I’m seventy-two. I’m being forced to suffer some little shit teaching my daughter to fast pitch instead of me doing it. These two might be changing my diapers when they’re …”
“Em! If anyone changes your diapers it will be me.”
He blinked in outraged surprise before chuckling, “Smart ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. You weren’t complaining last night.” As a reluctant grin bloomed on his face I continued, “So you’re taking a little longer to heal up from the back surgery than you expected. The doctors think otherwise, and say that you are still ahead of the curve with your progress. You know those connectors had to come out, they were worthless to you and causing their own set of problems. They lasted twice as long as predicted but …”
He sighed. “But it was time,” he said nodding sadly. “Hopefully the re-build will last even longer.”
“From your lips to God’s ears. Are you finished going over that supply list? I need to post it to Bishop.”
Returning to what we’d been talking about before Edmee had tattled on Jobert he said, “Don’t avoid the subject.”
“I’m not avoiding anything, I just … just …”
“If you don’t want to go to the ceremony then don’t. No one is forcing you. But … it might be good for you. You said you were feeling cooped up.”
I snorted. “Zeb can play those games. I want no part of them. They always try and pull out the Wounded Warrior card when they want something. I’m a gettin’ tired of being someone’s check on their list of good deeds. If it meant something for the men I’d do it, but I’m not going just to get some jacked-up little tart re-elected. She voted down the funds to re-fund the health care program at Tulane. She can pound sand for all I care.”
“How ‘bout you let me rub your back?” he whispers in my ear. “You sounding a little stressed Mrs. Jeansonne.”
Then from upstairs, “Mom! The baby gators all ran out when I opened the shower door! They’re all over the place!”
I grimaced and told Em, “Hold that thought.” Opening the family comm link I said, “Jobert Jeansonne, I don’t know where you are, but you better get upstairs toot sweet. If I have to catch all them cranky baby lizards by myself – lizards that shouldn’t be there to start with – someone is going to be staying home from camp this weekend. And I ain’t playing.”
“Mom! I’m at down the bayou testing the water for science class! And it is the District Jamboree!”
“Then I suggest you put your homework to the side for now and run ‘cause I’m gettin’ tired of having to corral all your zoo creatures. Now move it!”
I look at the stairs, sigh, then turned to Em. “If I say this is your fault you better not laugh.”
He laughs anyway, just liked I’d meant him to, and I go over and just for giggles get on his elevator chair and take it up rather than waddle my way up the risers. We made a mistake putting the master bedroom on the second floor. It seemed like a good idea at the time but the older we get the less friendly those stairs become. And being pregnant with twins at forty-two meant those stairs thrilled me less and less.
Twins. They run in the family so naturally I would get a double dose. Em has remained sensitive about his age though he has gotten over the difference between ours. His feelings weren’t hurt, however we were both shocked, when we’d both thought of everything but protection during the honeymoon. I caught preggers and nine months later we had Jules and Josette. I got an implant as soon as I could. Business was booming even more as we expanded.
Never in my wildest dreams would life had turned out like it had. I was under 30 with two beautiful kids, a great home life, and extended family, and a corporation that was beginning to be known on a national level. Our specialty was reclamation but I knew that wouldn’t last forever so Em and I started working on plans for integrated buildings – both home and office – that could readily accommodate “normals” and various forms of “challengeds” without looking like it was being pieced out … and without it costing an arm and a leg even for retrofits. Em came up with really ingenious workspaces that could morph depending on who was using them; very ergonomic and “challenge” friendly.
But about the time I passed the thirty-year mark Em started having trouble with his back again. They were able to patch it up but it put a bug in his ear and he asked if I wanted anymore kids because he didn’t want to be a cripple and trying to help me raise a baby. I took a little affront to that and told him not to say something so harebrained in front of my crews, that while they were more integrated than in the beginning were still mostly made up of Wounded (and recovering) Warriors. He knew it but he couldn’t change the way he felt and so we negotiated and wound up with Edmee. Problem was the second implant was a dud and we got Jobert less than a year later.
When that implant gave out I got a new one even though Em had offered to get snipped. He’d been in a lot of pain at the time and it was simply easier for me to do the deed. But that one gave out a year before it was supposed to and though I’d been feeling rundown I thought it was age. Vadie and Denise had been warning me that I’d be feeling it and the force of gravity sooner rather than later. And it wasn’t nerves from the experimental surgery that Em was offered the chance at as so many years of the original experiment had caused brittle bones in his spine. The surgery wasn’t just life-changing, it was life-saving.
I started puking the day he went in for surgery and couldn’t seem to stop for a week. His doctors saw it and sent me for blood work as they wouldn’t let him come home if there was an infection in the house. Riiiight. I was four-months pregnant. It took me forever to get up the nerve to tell him. He wanted proof he wasn’t hallucinating from the pain meds. It was a good thing he was lying down and looking puny at the time because when they told us it was twins I threatened to kill him for claiming old age and being so damn productive. I was the only one in the sonogram office that wasn’t laughing.
I’m over it now and trying to enjoy this pregnancy in a way I hadn’t let myself enjoy the other ones. I guess I have finally reached a point where I’m secure enough that I’m not going to do something bête like drop them on their heads. At forty-two I know this is definitely a last experience. Having a kid in your forties is no longer all that unusual. Reproductive science has really advanced. And lucky for us it doesn’t appear that the twins are going to need any kind of gene therapy either. On the other hand I haven’t exactly been easy on my body, though I have finally given up answering the call for certain mission types. There’s too many idiots-in-charge trying to use the old group for their new agenda. Count me out.
Good thing I kept more than four of those coins I found all those years ago in the little mausoleum. We’ve occasionally needed the capital to expand with. It saved having to go to a bank or cut the income to the crews. It also helped us to survive a bad economic downturn when many other corporations and job markets didn’t … or at least not without cutting a lot of jobs. I’m holding back six and after both Em and I pass on the kids will each inherit one coin and they can decide what to do with them and I won’t be around to worry about it. At that time they’ll also receive a copy of the family history and a warning that it isn’t money that is the problem but the love of money and that I don’t want them to go bury the coin to protect it and keep it safe but to liquidate it and put those funds to work doing good. As much as I’d like to tell them how to do that, I’ve learned from the mess my ancestors made that sometimes you just gotta step back, not judge, and let happen what happens.
Em and I have enough for old age … and any medical issues either one of us winds up with. That’s been the real blessing of the treasure. It is letting us grow old while still being able to do the things we love. Not just work but to take care of the people we love and through the foundation we set up, many people we’ve never even met. I will admit though that I still occasionally get full up. Em has learned the signs and while he couldn’t go with me this last time, he manned home base while I “went fishing” out in the swamp. The only thing he asked is that I take a comm link and a homing beacon. Not too many men would do that when their woman is showing more than a little pregnant. But we’ve remained partners in life and he trusts me.
There’s still Swamp People. There will always be Swamp People. But as far as I know none of them are related to me, least not by blood. We share something else however and they know me and I’m as welcome as I ever have been. Did some trading. Ate a shared meal around a campfire. Got laughed at a few times for getting caught so late in life. And then was given some space to walk around the Levert Island. Yep, it’s called that on maps these days after some government survey team ran across it. I suppose the place couldn’t escape GPS and other modern technology forever. Some adventuresome souls use the location for geocaching on occasion. Jules used to tell some pretty good ghost stories about the place to his crew until I deemed him old enough and told him the real history of the place. He doesn’t tell those stories anymore. He’s a good kid, a lot more like his father than he is me. Thoughtful and insightful. Josette reminds me of Lally a bit except without the cattiness. She’s all girl … a girly-girl. I almost didn’t know what to do with her until I realized I needed to get over myself and over her being different from me. Good thing I figured it out before she hit puberty or one of us would likely have wound up at St. Bernards well before our time.
Edmee and Jobert are both more like me than Em, and he encourages it. And surprise, surprise but Mrs. Jeansonne spoils both kids rotten every chance she gets. Which is pretty often since she now lives in a cottage we built for her on our acreage in town. She has a live-in that takes care of most things and that woman’s sister comes to give her a day off when she wants one. Works well for everyone. And of course the kids take turns running over on most days for a taste of whatever sweet “Grannymere” has on the kitchen counter.
The reason why Mrs. Jeansonne lives with us is because Xavier had a heart attack and passed on when Jobert was still in diapers. It tore the family up being so unexpected, but then again so much of life is. Every year on her birthday we keep thinking that it will be Mrs. Jeansonne’s last. She won’t even let us put candles on the cake anymore claiming it is bad enough for her to know how hold she is, she isn’t interested in anyone else knowing it. She’d been really fading earlier this year and Em hurting so bad only seemed to make it worse. But then when I had to tell her about these two I’m carrying now it seems to have given her a new lease on life. We haven’t always gotten along but we’re more in tune now than we were in the beginning. We turned that corner when she saw how broke up I was when we lost Aunt Orélie, Mr. Julius, Mr. Hubert, and Momma L all in the same year. We still see Tib and Vadie and their brood a couple times a year, either them coming here or us going to Panama City for a short vacation and fishing on the tourist boats that Mr. Hubert had started up and then Tib inherited.
I see Zeb and his family more often, usually by vid call but with the blasted things being 3D these days it is almost like having them in the same freaking room as you are in. It is by vid call because Zeb has turned into a very busy and successful DC attorney, much to my pretend disgust (most of the time anyway). He’s one of the good ‘uns but he is still better at politicking than I will ever be, would ever want to be. He and Denise do their best to drag me kicking and screaming into the modern way of doing things with only partial success. I usually let Higg handle that end of things and she’s done a bloody brilliant job of it over the years. Thank God she has no plans to retire and has been smart enough to cross train most of the people in her office because I’ve gotten to the point that part no longer holds any interest for me. I want to innovate, not administrate though I still find myself in the boardroom more than I want to.
I suppose everything changes and sometimes that change means it is time to come to an end. If I had to sum up our lives? “And they lived happily ever after … most of the time.” Compared to the way things could have turned out I’m more than satisfied for it to be that way.
The End
“Ma mere! Jobert didn’t get rid of that baby gator like you told him to! And he found a bunch more!! I need to take a shower. I stink from dance class and Bobby Dunham is going to be here in an hour!”
Em looks over at me and asks, “Who the hell is Bobby Dunham?”
“Softball coach’s son. He’s going to help her work on her fast pitch.”
“Sure he is,” he growled.
“Don’t worry Em. They’re just ten years old. Edmee may be thinking of boys like that but trust me, Bobby isn’t. Plus, they’ll be in the side yard and Jules is going to be out there with some of his friends working on a new pirogue. That’s more than likely the real reason Bobby is coming over. He wants to have an in with the older guys.”
“Edmee is NOT going to be the only girl out there.”
I shook my head at his crankies. “Of course not. You really think Josette and her friends are going to give up the chance to preen in front of a bunch of sixteen-year-old males with hot bods?”
“With what?!” he yelped getting up from the table and starting to pace, leaning heavily on the cane he still had to use for balance.
I laughed. “Relax. Jules is nearly as big a grumpy gator as you when it comes to the girls. He’s not going to let anything happen.”
“When did our sweet little tomboys turn into girls?” he complained.
“They’ve always been girls so get over it. We’ve just given them more scope to discover what kind of girl they want to be than I had.”
He limped over to me and kissed me. “You didn’t turn out so bad.”
“Glad you think so. Want me to rub your back with liniment?”
“Mmmmm. Rub my back … some other places too,” he said getting the look in his eyes that never seemed to be far away.
I laughed. “Oh you. That’s how I got caught with these two.”
We both looked down at my oversized belly. Em says, “Six is my limit Ava. I’m already gonna be an old man before these two will need me.”
At his troubled look I said, “Stop thinking those kinds of thoughts Emerick Jeansonne. None of us are promised tomorrow, all we can do is make the best of today and do a little planning. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”
“I’m fifty-two years old Ava. I’m walking like I’m seventy-two. I’m being forced to suffer some little shit teaching my daughter to fast pitch instead of me doing it. These two might be changing my diapers when they’re …”
“Em! If anyone changes your diapers it will be me.”
He blinked in outraged surprise before chuckling, “Smart ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. You weren’t complaining last night.” As a reluctant grin bloomed on his face I continued, “So you’re taking a little longer to heal up from the back surgery than you expected. The doctors think otherwise, and say that you are still ahead of the curve with your progress. You know those connectors had to come out, they were worthless to you and causing their own set of problems. They lasted twice as long as predicted but …”
He sighed. “But it was time,” he said nodding sadly. “Hopefully the re-build will last even longer.”
“From your lips to God’s ears. Are you finished going over that supply list? I need to post it to Bishop.”
Returning to what we’d been talking about before Edmee had tattled on Jobert he said, “Don’t avoid the subject.”
“I’m not avoiding anything, I just … just …”
“If you don’t want to go to the ceremony then don’t. No one is forcing you. But … it might be good for you. You said you were feeling cooped up.”
I snorted. “Zeb can play those games. I want no part of them. They always try and pull out the Wounded Warrior card when they want something. I’m a gettin’ tired of being someone’s check on their list of good deeds. If it meant something for the men I’d do it, but I’m not going just to get some jacked-up little tart re-elected. She voted down the funds to re-fund the health care program at Tulane. She can pound sand for all I care.”
“How ‘bout you let me rub your back?” he whispers in my ear. “You sounding a little stressed Mrs. Jeansonne.”
Then from upstairs, “Mom! The baby gators all ran out when I opened the shower door! They’re all over the place!”
I grimaced and told Em, “Hold that thought.” Opening the family comm link I said, “Jobert Jeansonne, I don’t know where you are, but you better get upstairs toot sweet. If I have to catch all them cranky baby lizards by myself – lizards that shouldn’t be there to start with – someone is going to be staying home from camp this weekend. And I ain’t playing.”
“Mom! I’m at down the bayou testing the water for science class! And it is the District Jamboree!”
“Then I suggest you put your homework to the side for now and run ‘cause I’m gettin’ tired of having to corral all your zoo creatures. Now move it!”
I look at the stairs, sigh, then turned to Em. “If I say this is your fault you better not laugh.”
He laughs anyway, just liked I’d meant him to, and I go over and just for giggles get on his elevator chair and take it up rather than waddle my way up the risers. We made a mistake putting the master bedroom on the second floor. It seemed like a good idea at the time but the older we get the less friendly those stairs become. And being pregnant with twins at forty-two meant those stairs thrilled me less and less.
Twins. They run in the family so naturally I would get a double dose. Em has remained sensitive about his age though he has gotten over the difference between ours. His feelings weren’t hurt, however we were both shocked, when we’d both thought of everything but protection during the honeymoon. I caught preggers and nine months later we had Jules and Josette. I got an implant as soon as I could. Business was booming even more as we expanded.
Never in my wildest dreams would life had turned out like it had. I was under 30 with two beautiful kids, a great home life, and extended family, and a corporation that was beginning to be known on a national level. Our specialty was reclamation but I knew that wouldn’t last forever so Em and I started working on plans for integrated buildings – both home and office – that could readily accommodate “normals” and various forms of “challengeds” without looking like it was being pieced out … and without it costing an arm and a leg even for retrofits. Em came up with really ingenious workspaces that could morph depending on who was using them; very ergonomic and “challenge” friendly.
But about the time I passed the thirty-year mark Em started having trouble with his back again. They were able to patch it up but it put a bug in his ear and he asked if I wanted anymore kids because he didn’t want to be a cripple and trying to help me raise a baby. I took a little affront to that and told him not to say something so harebrained in front of my crews, that while they were more integrated than in the beginning were still mostly made up of Wounded (and recovering) Warriors. He knew it but he couldn’t change the way he felt and so we negotiated and wound up with Edmee. Problem was the second implant was a dud and we got Jobert less than a year later.
When that implant gave out I got a new one even though Em had offered to get snipped. He’d been in a lot of pain at the time and it was simply easier for me to do the deed. But that one gave out a year before it was supposed to and though I’d been feeling rundown I thought it was age. Vadie and Denise had been warning me that I’d be feeling it and the force of gravity sooner rather than later. And it wasn’t nerves from the experimental surgery that Em was offered the chance at as so many years of the original experiment had caused brittle bones in his spine. The surgery wasn’t just life-changing, it was life-saving.
I started puking the day he went in for surgery and couldn’t seem to stop for a week. His doctors saw it and sent me for blood work as they wouldn’t let him come home if there was an infection in the house. Riiiight. I was four-months pregnant. It took me forever to get up the nerve to tell him. He wanted proof he wasn’t hallucinating from the pain meds. It was a good thing he was lying down and looking puny at the time because when they told us it was twins I threatened to kill him for claiming old age and being so damn productive. I was the only one in the sonogram office that wasn’t laughing.
I’m over it now and trying to enjoy this pregnancy in a way I hadn’t let myself enjoy the other ones. I guess I have finally reached a point where I’m secure enough that I’m not going to do something bête like drop them on their heads. At forty-two I know this is definitely a last experience. Having a kid in your forties is no longer all that unusual. Reproductive science has really advanced. And lucky for us it doesn’t appear that the twins are going to need any kind of gene therapy either. On the other hand I haven’t exactly been easy on my body, though I have finally given up answering the call for certain mission types. There’s too many idiots-in-charge trying to use the old group for their new agenda. Count me out.
Good thing I kept more than four of those coins I found all those years ago in the little mausoleum. We’ve occasionally needed the capital to expand with. It saved having to go to a bank or cut the income to the crews. It also helped us to survive a bad economic downturn when many other corporations and job markets didn’t … or at least not without cutting a lot of jobs. I’m holding back six and after both Em and I pass on the kids will each inherit one coin and they can decide what to do with them and I won’t be around to worry about it. At that time they’ll also receive a copy of the family history and a warning that it isn’t money that is the problem but the love of money and that I don’t want them to go bury the coin to protect it and keep it safe but to liquidate it and put those funds to work doing good. As much as I’d like to tell them how to do that, I’ve learned from the mess my ancestors made that sometimes you just gotta step back, not judge, and let happen what happens.
Em and I have enough for old age … and any medical issues either one of us winds up with. That’s been the real blessing of the treasure. It is letting us grow old while still being able to do the things we love. Not just work but to take care of the people we love and through the foundation we set up, many people we’ve never even met. I will admit though that I still occasionally get full up. Em has learned the signs and while he couldn’t go with me this last time, he manned home base while I “went fishing” out in the swamp. The only thing he asked is that I take a comm link and a homing beacon. Not too many men would do that when their woman is showing more than a little pregnant. But we’ve remained partners in life and he trusts me.
There’s still Swamp People. There will always be Swamp People. But as far as I know none of them are related to me, least not by blood. We share something else however and they know me and I’m as welcome as I ever have been. Did some trading. Ate a shared meal around a campfire. Got laughed at a few times for getting caught so late in life. And then was given some space to walk around the Levert Island. Yep, it’s called that on maps these days after some government survey team ran across it. I suppose the place couldn’t escape GPS and other modern technology forever. Some adventuresome souls use the location for geocaching on occasion. Jules used to tell some pretty good ghost stories about the place to his crew until I deemed him old enough and told him the real history of the place. He doesn’t tell those stories anymore. He’s a good kid, a lot more like his father than he is me. Thoughtful and insightful. Josette reminds me of Lally a bit except without the cattiness. She’s all girl … a girly-girl. I almost didn’t know what to do with her until I realized I needed to get over myself and over her being different from me. Good thing I figured it out before she hit puberty or one of us would likely have wound up at St. Bernards well before our time.
Edmee and Jobert are both more like me than Em, and he encourages it. And surprise, surprise but Mrs. Jeansonne spoils both kids rotten every chance she gets. Which is pretty often since she now lives in a cottage we built for her on our acreage in town. She has a live-in that takes care of most things and that woman’s sister comes to give her a day off when she wants one. Works well for everyone. And of course the kids take turns running over on most days for a taste of whatever sweet “Grannymere” has on the kitchen counter.
The reason why Mrs. Jeansonne lives with us is because Xavier had a heart attack and passed on when Jobert was still in diapers. It tore the family up being so unexpected, but then again so much of life is. Every year on her birthday we keep thinking that it will be Mrs. Jeansonne’s last. She won’t even let us put candles on the cake anymore claiming it is bad enough for her to know how hold she is, she isn’t interested in anyone else knowing it. She’d been really fading earlier this year and Em hurting so bad only seemed to make it worse. But then when I had to tell her about these two I’m carrying now it seems to have given her a new lease on life. We haven’t always gotten along but we’re more in tune now than we were in the beginning. We turned that corner when she saw how broke up I was when we lost Aunt Orélie, Mr. Julius, Mr. Hubert, and Momma L all in the same year. We still see Tib and Vadie and their brood a couple times a year, either them coming here or us going to Panama City for a short vacation and fishing on the tourist boats that Mr. Hubert had started up and then Tib inherited.
I see Zeb and his family more often, usually by vid call but with the blasted things being 3D these days it is almost like having them in the same freaking room as you are in. It is by vid call because Zeb has turned into a very busy and successful DC attorney, much to my pretend disgust (most of the time anyway). He’s one of the good ‘uns but he is still better at politicking than I will ever be, would ever want to be. He and Denise do their best to drag me kicking and screaming into the modern way of doing things with only partial success. I usually let Higg handle that end of things and she’s done a bloody brilliant job of it over the years. Thank God she has no plans to retire and has been smart enough to cross train most of the people in her office because I’ve gotten to the point that part no longer holds any interest for me. I want to innovate, not administrate though I still find myself in the boardroom more than I want to.
I suppose everything changes and sometimes that change means it is time to come to an end. If I had to sum up our lives? “And they lived happily ever after … most of the time.” Compared to the way things could have turned out I’m more than satisfied for it to be that way.
The End