Sweet Mystery (2 page)

Rae looked at her mother. “Daddy never gave
up on that, did he? He might have stopped talking about it so much,
but Pawpaw Vince was never far from his thoughts.”

“You know better than me,” said Aletha,
raising an eyebrow at her. “When you came to visit two years ago
when he had that mild heart attack, what did he tell you?”

“You know about that?” Rae was shocked. She
had not mentioned their conversation to anyone, not even her close
girlfriend, Marcelle.

“Lucien told me.” Aletha nodded at her. “Last
few years he kept in touch – him and George even got on kinda
good.” She laughed when Rae’s mouth fell open. “No reason why they
shouldn’t.”

Rae shrugged. “Guess you’re right.”

In fact, George was like Lucien in some ways.
Both men were quick to smile and forgive. George had the easygoing
temperament of a man who was happy with himself. Maybe if life had
been different for her father... Rae thought of her last talk with
Lucien.

“But you got your own life. Don’t rake up the
past. Nothing you can do about it after all this time anyway –
fifty years.” Aletha gazed out at the river, and then down where it
wound toward downtown Belle Rose.

“Maybe not.”

“He’s gone, baby. Ain’t one thing gonna make
it right now.”

Rae did not know if her mother was talking
about Lucien or Pawpaw Vincent. It did not matter. “I can’t turn my
back on him this time, Mama.”

“You listen to me. It’s still folks who get
plenty nasty just at the mention of your grandpére’s name.
Especially them Joves. Toya is big in town, like her mama was.”

“Really? Toya always did like being a big
fish in a little pond.” Rae felt a flash of rancor at the mention
of her name.

“Take care of your daddy’s business and get
on with your life. Neville won’t care if you sell the dance hall
and Andrew won’t fuss when he sees he might get some money out of
it.” Aletha’s voice took on an intense tone.

Rae looked at the rich green vegetation
swaying in the river breeze. Yellow, red and blue wild flowers
bloomed. Even on a weekday afternoon, people fished from the banks
or in small boats. There was a rhythm to life in this rural parish
that had never left her. She could not stand the thought of leaving
it again.

“Mama, I’ve been wandering all around, trying
to find myself. This is where I’ve been all along.” Rae waved to
several folks in a passing boat. “I’m home now.”

* * *

“Cher! Come here and give me some sugar.”
Marcelle stretched out her free arm. Her new baby girl was perched
in the other as she sat in the rocking chair on her veranda.

“Hey now, you still producing little Browns,
I see.” Rae laughed out loud from sheer joy at seeing her oldest
and dearest friend.

The kissing and hugging went on for several
minutes, before the two women shared remembrances and news in a
rush, chattering at break-neck speed, as if to make up for the
years they’d been apart. Soon, Marcelle’s other four children
poured out of the house to see the newcomer. Four boys, all rough
and tumble, competed to show off in front of Rae.

“Lord, Marcelle, these boys have grown.” Rae
beamed at the smooth faces of cinnamon, all looking like their
father.

“Now don’t pretend you remember these
rascals. Truth is I get confused they all look so much like
Freddie. This is Freddie Jr. He’s my big boy, just turned eleven.
That’s Tremaine. He’s nine. Eric Paul quit that! Eric Paul is
eight. And my sweet boy, Torrence, is five.”

“Come here, sweet things!” Rae gathered the
boys to her. They were a squirming, dusty little crew, now very shy
to be on formal display. “You’re right, girl. They all look like
Freddie just spit ‘em out.” She pinched Torrence’s plump cheek.

“Uh-huh, got his mischief in ‘em too. Now
y’all go play. And you better stay out Miss Pearl’s fig trees,”
Marcelle yelled at the disappearing shirt-tails. “Lotta good that’s
gonna do.” She lifted a shoulder. “Here now. Hold your
godchild.”

“This one here is going to be beautiful like
her mama,” said Rae. “Hello Felicia Lynette.”

Rae settled onto the swing with the infant
cradled in her arms and stared down at the little brown face,
smooth with sleep. Looking at the baby tugged at her heart in an
unexpected way. Tiny Felicia Lynette smelled of baby lotion and
formula. Rae gazed at the wood-frame house, which was brightly
decorated. Marcelle managed to keep it neat after a fashion. But
the toys of four active boys were scattered around the front
yard.

Rae kissed the baby’s head. What did she have
to show for her life? A modestly successful band, a couple of
recordings on compact disc, which sold fairly well, but not much
else. Had she been wrong to choose the path she’d taken?

“Girl, you doing so good. I’ve got both of
your CDs. I envy you.” Marcelle sighed. She smoothed down the
cotton dress over her still plump tummy.

Rae was startled out of her reverie.
“What?”

“Mais, yeah – you’re living a carefree life,
traveling all over, even to foreign countries. I spent my twenties
either being pregnant or wiping baby butts.” Marcelle sighed again.
“Sometimes I wonder what if I’d gone to New Orleans to study
accounting, instead of getting married.”

Rae touched one of Felicia’s hands. “I was
just sitting here thinking that you’ve made such a good life for
yourself.”

“I love my babies. But I just wonder what if.
You know?”

“Yeah.” Rae stared off across the blacktop
road, but she did not see the trees swaying in the spring breeze.
Being back in Belle Rose was like taking a ride in a time machine.
She went back fifteen years to when she and Marcelle were
teenagers.

“Things haven’t changed round here too much.
I mean downtown got a little more spruced up in the last four
years. We got that new crawfish-processing plant. Them Joves– ”
Marcelle broke off with a sharp glance at Rae.

“Since when did you walk on eggshells around
me?” asked Rae, not looking at her.

“Listen, cher, talk has already started about
you and Darcy. You’d think it happened yesterday.”

“You know, since I got home, sometimes it
does feel like fifteen years ago. Sorta like being in two time
dimensions.” Rae shook her head. It was strange how this town was
affecting her.

“Oui. Coming home can be like that, I guess,
especially after so long.” Marcelle was in tune with Rae as usual.
The two had always been like sisters.

“So, Darcy is doing well for himself? I’m not
surprised.”

Marcelle studied Rae’s expression for several
moments before speaking. “Yeah, he’s got several businesses goin’.
The canning plant, crawfish ponds and real estate. At least his
businesses are doing well.”

“What do you mean?” Rae looked at her with
interest.

“Darcy just got divorced from his third wife.
She left him. Said he’s crazy and his sister crazy too.”

Rae laughed. Darcy and Toya Jove had grown up
in an old Creole family with an inflated value of their social
status. Their mother, Lorise, was fond of reminding everyone of her
proud French heritage. Two years older, Darcy was handsome and
self-possessed. After seeing him from a distance throughout their
childhood, Rae fell in love with him the summer she turned
fourteen. To her amazed delight, he turned his attention to her.
They would sneak off together, both knowing his parents would never
approve, to stroll through the fields. Toya followed them one day
and told her parents.

“Toya Jove. She always took it on herself to
protect her brother from females.” Rae remembered how Toya had
warned her to stay away from Darcy.

Marcelle sniggered. “Pooh. With his track
record, he don’t seem to need much help running off women these
days.”

“How does he look?” Rae could not resist
wondering about the boy she’d wanted so much. For two years they
defied all efforts to keep them apart, until Darcy succeeded where
his sister and parents had not. One day, in blinding pain, Rae had
discovered the real Darcy Jove.

Marcelle pursed her lips. “The same.”

Rae knew what that meant. He was still almost
too pretty to be a man – dark curling hair, full lips and large
eyes like Louisiana dark-roast coffee. Yet the thrill was long
gone.

“Well, I’m through with that,” Rae said.
“Guess what?”

“What?” Marcelle followed her swift change of
direction with ease, like the old days, ready to play the question
game from their childhood.

“I’m thinking about staying in Belle Rose,”
said Rae, as surprised as Marcelle to hear the words come out of
her mouth.

“Quit lyin’! You’re gonna give up being a
singing star to live in Belle Rose? Poo-ya!” Marcelle stared at her
with big, round eyes.

Rae laughed. “I’m not a singing star. We did
okay, but I’m not famous or rich.”

“Still, why would you wanna get stuck in
podunk Belle Rose? Especially with... you know.”

“That’s the main reason why, Marcelle. Daddy
lived here all his life under a cloud. I don’t accept that the
Dalcour legacy is going to be shame.”

“What about Toya and Darcy? Not to mention
old man Jove. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt. They own land
around your daddy’s dance hall, you know.”

Rae went rigid. “Nobody told me that.”

“They bought it up and was trying to force
him off, too. Mr. Lucien was talking a lot about his daddy, and all
that stuff that happened back in the forties. Mr. Henry was hot
about it.”

Rae glanced at her. “He’s been bad-mouthing
my grandfather for years. But I won’t let him or any of the Joves
rule my life.”

“What you gonna do?” Marcelle’s eyes gleamed
with excitement. “Better watch out for Toya.”

“I’m going to do exactly what they don’t
expect, that’s what.”

“Things about to get interesting in this town
for the first time in ten years. Welcome back, sister.” Marcelle
sat down on the swing next to Rae and put an arm around her. “I
can’t wait to see what you’re up to this time.”

Rae gazed around at the willow trees dancing
in the wind. Yellow wildflowers covered the ground in a field down
the road. This was the warm, vibrant land of her family. Nothing
else spoke to her like the lush vegetation and hot sunshine of
south Louisiana. Kudzu vines, bushes and trees crowded every space
of earth, encouraged by the hot, moist climate; a tangle of greens
in various shades.

Life in Belle Rose was like that, she mused –
a tangle of relationships that stretched back years. Her father,
her grandfather and the Jove family were connected for better or
worse. Maybe it was time to stop running from it. Yet doubt
trickled through her. Sometimes tangles should not be disturbed.
But she didn’t feel as though leaving was a choice anymore.

Rae turned to her friend. “Marcelle, do you
think I still belong here? Like you said, I’ve been traveling so
long.”

“Some folks come back and you can tell this
isn’t their home anymore. They’ve got roots in California or
Chicago now.” Marcelle took a deep breath. “Not you. You’re right
to wanna be home, Rae.”

“I sure hope so, Marcelle. I sure hope
so.”

* * *

“Okay, quit joking around. It’s been three
weeks and I can’t put JoJo Lawson off again. When are you coming
back?” Wesley stood with one hand on his hip.

Wesley and Jamal had stayed with Rae for the
weekend. They enjoyed fishing and small-town life in small doses.
Now they were ready to leave. Jamal helped Rae load groceries into
Wesley’s Chevy Blazer.

“I’m not. I keep telling you. I’m going to
stay here and run the dance hall.” Rae yanked on a sack of potatoes
with Jamal’s help.

“No!” Wesley dropped a bag of groceries onto
the gray seat of his vehicle. “No, no, no.” He shook his head back
and forth. “You can’t just quit the band.” His voice was positive,
as though his saying it would make it so.

Rae gazed up at the tall, lanky man with a
look of resolution. “Yes, I can.”

Jamal slapped him on the shoulder. “Told you
she wasn’t kidding.”

“Just like that – walk away?” Wesley wore a
look that was a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. “Well, if that’s
all we mean to you, fine.”

“Get real, Wes.” Jamal barked out a harsh
laugh. “You of all people trying to lay an emotional guilt trip on
somebody.”

“We’ve been like family and you know it.”
Wesley turned to Rae. “Baby, we’ve been through the fire
together.”

Rae thought of the tough times when they only
had each other – nights of rowdy crowds and surly club owners. One
record producer even told them they had no chance of making it. Yet
they had pushed on.

“You’re right, Wes. Like family, we’ve had
hard times and stuck together. So now I need you to understand that
I’ve got to do this, for Lucien and for me.” Rae put a hand on
Wesley’s arm.

“He was a sweet dude, your daddy. I don’t
care what anybody says.” Wesley, for all his gruff exterior, had a
sentimental core. “Sure gonna miss you. Come here, girl.” He gave
her a quick hug.

Jamal joined in for a group hug. “Aw, man,
leaving you behind is going to be tough.”

Rae blinked back tears. “It’s going to be
hard watching you leave. But, hey, you’re coming back.” She thumped
Wesley’s chest firmly. “I expect you guys to play for me at least
twice a year.”

He winked at her. “You got it, little
sister.”

They went back to loading the last few bags
into the Chevy. Jamal and Wesley teased Rae about the joys of
living in a small town as they drove into the old part of Belle
Rose. Antique shops and boutiques lined the main street.

“Let’s stop here. I want to get my mom a
souvenir,” said Jamal. His mother lived in Detroit, but collected
Southern figurines. They stopped at a shop selling small statues
made from pecan shells.