The Scandalous Summer of Sissy LeBlanc (44 page)

Rule Number One Hundred and Two

The Southern Belle’s Handbook

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Tibor assessed the applause as his daughter left the stage.

Not so loud as for his Vigilant Patriot Award, but applause strong

and clear. He was beginning to see how he could use this. Hell, a

thousand dollars to keep the bigot bashers quiet, he could raise that

in an afternoon. And it wouldn’t hurt that he could tell his cronies

that he was sending this smart-ass nigger up North so she could

pester the Yankees.

But what he couldn’t stand was having Hugh’s daughter get the

better of him. He scrutinized his niece. If she had the nerve to do

this, what would she do next time? He couldn’t let her get away

with it. He’d spent months planning every detail of his campaign

kickoff and the little slut waltzed in and ruined it. He’d get her. The

opportunity would present itself. It always did. Nobody got the

better of Tibor Thompson. But he couldn’t think about that

tonight.

Tonight he was off and running. He leaped out of the starting

gate protecting the embattled rights of Americans of European

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descent and rounded the first turn calling on them to relight the

Fires of Freedom.

On cue the bonfires all along the riverbank burst into flame. His

audience went wild—they stood and cheered.

Bourrée’s Cajuns had covered the wooden pyres with the dried

detritus of the cane fields, so the flames crackled and sparks shot

from the conflagrations like rockets into the hot night air. Just like

Christmas when bonfires were lit all along the levee. The audience

loved it. And more important, the TV cameras loved it. Tibor knew

he was running on a crowded track and he wanted to be sure he got

plenty of TV coverage. That’s where the voters were nowadays.

And nothing looked better on TV than a fire. Might even get

national coverage.

Tibor’s ambitions were not limited to the U.S. Congress. He had

plans to take over the state. Become another Huey Long. And then?

He’d confided to his closest advisers, if the niggers keep on agitat-

ing, who knows how far a country boy can go.

Parker, standing in the shadow of the trees in back of the

platform, watched Sissy melt into the crowd and then slip down the

rickety back stairs, lifting the hem of her choir robe to her knees.

Her hair was wild and blowing in the hot wind.

He went to her and brushed it back from her face. “That was a

damn fool thing to do.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, and brave as hell.” In back of her, sparks were shooting

off a crackling bonfire into the night sky. They glittered around her

head like a halo. He’d never seen her so beautiful. “I have good

news.” She was completely still, waiting. “The job in Boston came

through.”

“You’re not going to take it, are you?” He heard a note of des-

peration in her voice.

“I don’t have a choice, honey. I was fired.”

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“Calvin Merkin fired you!”

“Rowena Weaver and a delegation of church ladies stormed into

his office and carried on about moral turpitude. I guess you and I

just can’t get together without getting into trouble.” He saw her

face drain of color. She shook her head as if trying to deny what he

said. “It doesn’t make any difference. I’ll be making big money

now. I can take care of you.”

“Me?”

“I want to take you with me. I thought you knew that.”

Sissy stood perfectly still. “How was I supposed to know that? I

thought you’d gotten tired of me.”

“Girl, I’m not letting you go.” He took her arm and led her away

from the crowd. He felt the nearness of her body.

When she spoke again, her voice wavered. “What about my chil-

dren?”

“Bring them. They’ll be our children,” he said.

“And Peewee?”

He paused for a moment and then said, “Don’t bring him.”

Sissy didn’t smile.

They walked down toward the river where the bonfires leaped

and sparked against the night sky. He had to explain, make her

understand. But Parker had never been a salesman, he’d never

talked anyone into doing anything. He’d never had to. Especially

not women. They’d always wanted him. Except Sissy. But Sissy was

the only one he wanted, the only one he’d ever wanted. He knew

the next few moments would be the most important ones in his life.

For once he wanted to say something romantic, even poetic. As

they walked downhill in silence, he tried to rehearse. I want to build

a house for you. He did, but he couldn’t just say that. Where was

the poetry? He had to think of something more persuasive. If a man

finds a woman he can love for as many years as I’ve loved you, it’s

like he’s been given a gift from God. Ugh. He couldn’t say that.

Suppose she laughed. But he couldn’t let her go again. Not back to

the toad.

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They stood on the edge of a broad beach. Their feet sank into the

deep sand. He could smell the soft fragrance of wood smoke as the

bonfires blazed in the distance along the riverbank. She turned to

him. Her face glowed in the dancing firelight, her red hair tumbled

over her forehead, and the wind pushed it over her cheek. It was

now or never. “Say yes,” he said.

“You want me to just pick up my kids and run off and live in sin

with you in Boston?”

“I want to marry you, Sissy. Haven’t you figured that out?”

She shook her head. “Marriage is the root of all suffering.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been married to me.” And

then he began to talk. Sissy listened as words spilled out of his

mouth and swirled around them in the wind. He’d be making big

money. He’d take care of them all. Build them a house. In a few

years they’d be able to travel. Finally he got to the romantic part.

He’d never wanted to be tied down to anyone else, because of her.

That’s why he’d been so wild and free. And Sissy realized he’d come

back for her. He loved her. He’d always loved her.

A warmth swept over her. She felt it pulsating though her body.

She wanted to bathe in it. Stop it! The Voice of Reason ordered her.

Think! You’ve got to stop feeling and think.

A dark cloud of smoke from the bonfires along the wooded

banks whirled up and covered the moon.

Think. She willed herself to go numb with the same numbness

she’d experienced when she’d first heard her mother had died.

Think. Don’t feel. Sissy took refuge inside a crystal dome. She had

to get her thoughts together. After a moment, she lifted it a crack to

test what was coming at her as Parker talked. A warm excitement

enveloped her. She was loved and wanted! He thought she was spe-

cial. Not some piece of trash, but special. Then she heard the voice

of her conscience: you can’t do this to Peewee. You tricked him into

marrying you. You can’t take his kids away from him now. She

remembered him jumping into the gravel pit to save Marilee. His

pride introducing Billy Joe to Parker as his son. His look of grati-

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tude when she took up for him in front of Bourrée. What would he

do without her? She thought about the way Peewee looked at his

father’s table. His mute suffering, like a rabbit trapped in a hunter’s

headlight. She couldn’t abandon him. She’d taken a vow, for better

or for worse. And she’d broken it. She’d been unfaithful, but she

hadn’t deserted him. She hadn’t made him suffer. Not ever. She

pulled the dome down firmly. But a tiny echo bounced around in

the crystal and whispered, if she didn’t go with Parker and he left

her, she’d have nothing to get up for in the morning.

“What do you say?” he asked.

Sirens wailed in the distance. She didn’t answer.

“They want me to leave tomorrow.”

“No!” she heard herself scream. She saw flames from other bon-

fires shooting up through the trees.

“They need me right away or not at all.” He looked into her eyes

and came as close to begging as he ever had in his life. “Come with

me, Sissy. Dammit, you know I’m the man you should have mar-

ried.”

The dry wind whipped around her. She wanted to go with him.

She would go with him, but what about Peewee! The acrid smell of

smoke filled her nostrils, choking her. She was in turmoil. How do

you make a decision like this? “Call me tomorrow.”

“My phone’s already turned off.” Then he hesitated and added,

“And yours is tapped.”

“What?” She moved away from him and heard the rattling of dry

leaves on her crystal shell.

“They’ve been listening to us all summer.” He grinned. “We’re a

public disgrace.”

Sissy felt smothered. What was she doing in this little town? She

had to go with Parker. Then she saw Peewee’s face. “I’ll tell you

tomorrow.”

“Where?”

She just shook her head.

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Parker cast about for a place to meet. “They’re showing my

house.”

“The Paradise. Nobody’ll be there in the morning.”

“Ten o’clock. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“But, Sissy, if your answer is no, don’t . . .” He hesitated. “Don’t

show up.”

“Parker . . .”

He just shook his head. “I’ll wait until ten-thirty.”

Before she could say anything Harlan and Betty Ruth ran out of

the woods straightening their clothes. Harlan was furious. “That

damn politician set the forest on fire.”

Betty Ruth was happy and more rational than she’d been in

years. Harlan had convinced her the fire was in no way retribution

for her sins. “It was Tibor Thompson, not the devil,” she told Sissy,

laughing.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by firemen stringing hoses, dis-

tributing buckets and shovels to any able-bodied men they could

find. They told Sissy and Betty Ruth to go up to the parking lot

with the other women and children. Betty Ruth turned to go, but

before Sissy could join her, Peewee and Bourrée, still on horseback,

rode up together.

Sissy saw Bourrée squint his cool blue eyes at Parker. She remem-

bered the afternoon he shot a neighbor’s dog for sniffing around his

breeding stock. He looked the same way now. He watched his son

to see what he would do.

But Sissy knew Peewee wouldn’t do anything. Pity swept over

her. It was bad enough finding her in the woods with Parker again,

but finding her here in front of Bourrée meant months, years of

humiliation. She had never meant to humiliate him. She saw his lip

quiver. His eyes looked at her like the eyes of a whipped puppy. He

opened his mouth, but nothing came out. And then Parker came

gracefully to his rescue.

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“Hey, Peewee, Mr. LeBlanc. Glad you’re here. The fire depart-

ment needs volunteers.” He handed Peewee a shovel. “Sissy offered

her services, but I’ve been trying to convince her that a forest fire’s

no place for a lady.”

“He’s right. Your place is with Belle and the children,” said Pee-

wee. He sounded so grateful to Parker for rescuing him in the eyes

of his father.

But Bourrée snorted and curled his lip. “What service was you

offering this time, Sissy?”

As he spoke, Sissy heard in his voice the bitterness she’d nursed

for him all these years. She’d passed it on to him. A strange sense of

elation came over her. A giddiness of power. But she pushed down

those feelings. She knew how dangerous he could be. She said with

injured innocence of a Southern belle, “Why, Bourrée, whatever are

you talking about?”

Parker looked as if he wanted to knock Bourrée off his horse, but

he contained himself with throwing him a bucket and hitting him

directly in the stomach.

Bourrée’s nostrils flared. His horse reared up. Parker stood his

ground. The two men had recognized each other. War was declared.

Sissy knew she had to get out of there or hostilities would erupt.

She lifted the hem of her choir robe and climbed the railroad ties

leading to the parking lot.

She turned at the first landing and saw flames shoot out of the

trees. The horses whinnied and reared. Peewee’s horse took off

before he could get hold of the reins, galloping out of control away

from the fire, down the riverbank. Bourrée watched and then with

cold resignation pulled his horse around and galloped after him.

Smoke blew out of the woods and engulfed her. At first she

couldn’t see the river and then she couldn’t even see the beach. The

birds screamed as they flew madly overhead. The underbrush trem-

bled with scampering, shrieking animals.

Sissy ran up the steps, stumbling on the hem of her robe. The live

oaks and pine trees crackled in the heat. A long finger of Spanish

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moss burst into flame, blocking her path. Burning leaves and moss