Under the Sassafras (25 page)

“What are you talking about? Where's Mansir? He said he would wait here. Are you alright?” MaeMae asked.

A horn blew outside.

Joelette stumbled out to the porch. Her legs could barely hold her up. She saw Mansir driving up with T-Boy and Ozamae. All wore smiles as big as their faces. All were waving. The boys jumped out as soon as the truck stopped.

“Mom, Mansir is staying,” Ozamae said.

“No, he's not. He’s not staying.” Joelette pulled the two boys close to her. “Get in the house, you two.”

“But Mom, listen–“ 

“Get in the house now,” she said. “I won’t to tell you again,” she added in a low firm voice. “MaeMae, would you please leave us alone for a moment. This won't take long.”

Mansir sauntered up to the side of the porch placing a paper bag in the corner. “You still upset about this morning. I can explain everything. But first let me tell you what those boys of yours did.”

Joelette stepped back matching his steps forward. All she could see was the giant smile smeared all over his face. “You have your nerve. Do you have no shame? Or do you think I'm just a dried up old widow that will fall all over your feet because you did some nice things for us. Well, you are wrong. Dead wrong.” Joelette said in a very cold voice. She couldn't stop herself from shaking, so she wrapped her arms around her chest.

“What is wrong, Joelette? This is not at all like you.” Mansir's look of concern didn't faze her.

“I know you stole my money. Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?” Joelette sucked in a breath. “You stooped low this time, Mansir ... or whatever your name is.” Joelette leaned against the post for strength. “I want you out of here. And if you dare come back, I'll have you arrested. Now leave, before you make me regret not calling the police.”

Hurt and confusion filled his eyes. Well too bad, she was hurting too. It didn't matter how much she loved him. She could never forgive him for stealing.

“You are very mistaken, Joelette. And if you do not trust me by now maybe there is no hope for us. I'll be at Possum's for a couple of days until Sara returns. If you come to your senses before then, you know where to find me.”

Joelette willed her legs to hold her up. She was not able to find words to fight back.

Mansir took one giant step and stood facing Joelette eye to eye. “We could have been great together Joelette, if you had given your heart a chance to trust and love. If you had given me the benefit of the doubt-trusted me enough.”

Mansir turned to walk back to the truck. “Don't wait too long, Joelette. I told you last night I wouldn’t wait forever. I love you Joelette, and I always will. That, I promise.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“That is the most stubborn woman I've ever met,” Mansir said, slamming the screen door on Possum's houseboat.

Possum sat at his table, preparing a roast. “Come in. There's a beer in the fridge.” Possum cut another hole in the meat and stuffed more of the mixture out of a bowl into the hole. “Grab me one too.”

“Do you know she accused me of taking her beloved money? As if I needed any of her money.” Mansir drank half the bottle in one gulp. “And if I did need money, I wouldn’t take hers. I’m not a thief.” He took another drink.

“I'll tell you what, Possum, if I didn't love her and her family, I would be out of here so fast.” Mansir got up from the table and paced the floor. “Last night, I wanted to hold her all night. Today I want to shake some sense into her and then hold her all night.” He stood and paced around the table several times before sitting across from Possum.

His eyes focused on Possum's task. “What the hell are you doing?” As if seeing Possum for the first time since he had stormed into the houseboat. “Since when did you start cooking?” Mansir looked up at his friend for an answer. “Well? You're not saying much are you?”

“Your temper didn’t give me much chance, my friend. It had a hold of your mouth and wouldn’t let go.“ Possum laughed.

Mansir ran his hand over his mouth and wiped the last drop of beer off his lips. “Talk to me, man. I need to get her off my mind.”

“Not much of a chance of that happening, but I'll humor you,” said Possum. “I've been cooking since I was old enough to reach the stove. I just don't choose to cook much for just me. I would rather let the fine single women in this community cook for me. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I say 'bring it on, ladies'.” He made a come hither motion with his hands, then shrugged. “But since I'm still single, I thought maybe I was doing something wrong.” Possum rubbed seasoning all over the meat, then covered it and set the pot on the cabinet. “Maybe the way to a woman's heart is also through her stomach.” Possum washed his hands, returned to his chair to drink his beer.

“What are you talking about?” Mansir asked.

Possum laughed. “Joelette has you so riled up, you can’t even follow my conversation. I told you she was a strong-willed woman, didn't I?” Possum pointed his bottle of beer at Mansir.

Mansir said nothing, merely frowned at his friend.

“Sara called on your cell phone. You left it here, so I answered it. She will be in later today. I'm cooking this for her. You, my grumpy friend, are welcome to share supper with us if you want. But no crying at the table.” Possum winked.

“You're cooking this for my sister?” Mansir watched as Possum's face blushed. “Well, hell, man. When did this happen? Do you have a thing for her?”

“I've got eyes. I noticed the beautiful woman on the end of those gorgeous long legs, damn straight I did. It's not what you think though, I'm just doing this to be nice. I know someone with her class would never look twice at me.” Possum grinned. “But she will notice my cooking and so will you.”

“We're two pitiful souls, aren't we?” Mansir laughed with his friend. “Both have our eyes on women who could care less about us.”

“Joelette loves you, Mansir. She’s afraid to admit it yet. I've known her a long time and I think she is worth the wait. Let her think for a while. You know, give a little slack in the line before you reel her in.”

Possum put the large iron pot on the stove, added some oil and turned on the gas. The meat sizzled and soon the boat filled with the smells of onions and garlic browning with the roast. He stood over his pot, tending it with care. Turning it often, he added a small amount of water each time until the whole roast browned a dark caramel color.

Mansir opened his next beer. “So who taught you how to cook?” Mansir relaxed as he watched his friend move around the small kitchen with knowledge. Maybe Possum knew what he was talking about. Joelette would come to her senses.

Possum added more water. “When I was a boy, my grandmother would take me with her to visit aunts, cousins and friends on Saturday afternoon. In almost every home we visited, the woman would be sitting at her kitchen table with a pork or beef roast in front of her. I watched each one, with their own unique way of making the roast. My grandmother thought, she’d always make small slits in the roast and stuff them with a mixture of chopped onions, garlic and green onions. Then she’d would rub the red pepper and salt over the whole thing. The last ingredient she’d add was a small amount of sugar sprinkled over the roast.”

Possum added more water, turned the heat down, and covered the pot of succulent smells. “The sugar helps it brown nicely. Never underestimate that little touch of something special.”

Mansir propped his feet on the chair across from him, locked his hands behind his head and leaned back. “The only place you can get away with leaning back in a chair is in another man's house. Ever notice that, Possum?”

“You break my chair, you buy me another one, smart man. What time you think we ought to leave for the airport? We don't want to be late to pick up your sister.” With that Possum set down his beer. “No more drinking for me tonight.”

Mansir laughed for the first time since the run in with Joelette. “Getting anxious, are we?” They fell quiet a few minutes. “Possum, how long have you known Joelette?”

“Ever since she moved here with Otis. She made every man turn his head when she walked down the street. Cajun women are beautiful, but she had the added height to go with her beauty, and that voice. I think we all fell a little in love with her.”

“She does have a sexy voice, doesn't she? Did I ever tell you the first time I saw her, I thought she was an angel,” Mansir said. “I was just waking up from being unconscious and she glided into my room and said something to me in that slow sexy voice. I think I fell in love with her at that moment.” Mansir felt his heart pick up the beat.

Possum turned the roast and added more water and checked his pot of rice. He then scrubbed at a spot on the cabinet, then turned back to Mansir.

“Joelette, did not have a good marriage. Otis was handsome, but bad to the bone. He'd been engaged to Eula Mae Comeaux when he made the trip to north Louisiana. Otis came back with a bride; never called Eula Mae or his folks. Joelette never knew about the engagement.” Possum came back and sat. “Anyways, after he was back awhile, he started seeing Eula Mae again. She has a couple of children by him. I don't think Joelette knows about the children, but she knew about the affair. He never tried to hide it from anyone. Like he was bragging. He probably has more children with different women running around South Louisiana.”

“Why did Joelette take that from him? She told me a thing or two today and I didn't do anything.” Mansir let the legs of the chair drop with a thud on the boat's hard floor.

“For a big tall man, you don't see above the trees too well, do you? She didn’t love Otis.” Possum turned the pillows on the sofa, with the sleeve of his shirt, dusted the end table.

“If you think I haven't noticed all the primping you’re doing to this room, you must think I'm stupid. My sister is coming for dinner, not the Queen of England.” Mansir grinned at his flustered friend.

“Me, I don't have a lot of visitors on my boat, not one of her class. Stop giving me a hard time. Speaking of time, let me change my shirt and turn the meat off.

“You don't have to put on airs for Sara. She's not like that. Sara sees past all of the finery and gets to the heart of the matter. Just be you, my friend.”

“That's what I'm afraid of, Mansir. I'm always me and look where it has gotten this ole Frenchman.” Possum buttoned his clean starched and ironed shirt, cocked his hat on his head and headed for the door.

“I've never seen you like this before, Possum. You're really smitten aren't you?” Mansir smiled. He didn’t know if Sara would be interested, but he’d certainly approve of them as a couple. Possum was a great guy. “Well, go for it. You'll never know if you don't go for it, right?” Mansir slapped Possum on the back then rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about how to make a woman sit up and take notice. I'll keep my eye on you tonight for my first lesson.”

###

“I don't want to hear about what the two of you did right now. I'm very upset and I think it’s time you just went to bed. I'll be in a little while to talk to both of you.” Joelette gently shoved the sad boys off to their room.

MaeMae flitted around the kitchen threw open cabinets and searched through their contents. “I can't believe I misplaced something so large. I must be getting senile.” She said to no one in particular.

“What are you stomping around the kitchen looking for?” Joelette asked.

“My bean jar. Tomorrow night is
Bourré
, and I thought I would busy myself by arranging my beans in the box Mansir made me. You know Mrs. Broussard is going to join us. She needs friends and we need another person. We've all heard each other's stories so many times we forget they are not ours.” MaeMae stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Where do you think I put that jar?”

“Okay, MaeMae. Let's think. Maybe you moved it while we were packing for the storm. We were all so rushed. Or maybe the boys were playing with them. They know better, but they also knew better then to sneak off like they did earlier today. Come with me, I think we need to get to the bottom of this day or none of us will sleep tonight.” Joelette opened the boy's bedroom door.

Joelette sat on Ozamae's bed and motioned for MaeMae to sit on T-Boy's. Ozamae had been crying again and T-Boy wouldn't look at her. “Okay what's going on? Have you two been playing with MaeMae’s beans?”

“
Now
you want us to talk,” T-Boy said with tears welling up in his eyes. “We've been trying to tell you all day what happened, but you're so mad, you won't listen. You won’t listen to anyone.”

He was right. She hadn’t listened. To anyone, not even to her own instinct that had screamed that none of any of this made any sense. She took a deep breath.

“We wanted to help,” Ozamae wailed.

“And we did, too. Until you messed things up,” T-Boy muttered.

She tried to pull Ozamae to her, but he pushed her away.

“You never act like this. Please tell me what's going on?” Joelette asked.

“We heard what you said, so we fixed it,” Ozamae said in between sniffles. “But then you ruined everything. You sent him away.”

“Start at the beginning, baby. T-Boy, you fill in what he might leave out.” Joelette held Ozamae's hand in hers, hoping to give him confidence.

“You said the reason Mansir left was because we didn't have money and he wanted money, so we brought him all we had,” Ozamae said. 

“But you were all wrong, Mom. He didn't want our money. He just wants us. You were wrong.”

Joelette felt her world spin. “What money?” Oh, what had she done?

“It's all there, on the porch. I saw Mansir put it down when you started saying all those mean things to him, Mom. Do you want me to go get the bag?” T-Boy offered.

“Please. Then I need to hear more.” Joelette kissed Ozamae's small hands. What had she done? In order to protect her family and her foolish pride, she had hurt them much more than Mansir ever did.

T-Boy returned with the paper bag and set it in Joelette's lap. Removing the rubber band, she poured the contents on the bed.

MaeMae gasped. “Oh,
Cher
. Look what they did.”

Guilt tore into her chest and tears streamed down her cheeks. Staring at the small piggy bank in her hands, she wiped her face with the hem of her dress and put Ozamae’s bank on his nightstand.

MaeMae reached over and took the jar of beans from Joelette. She bent over and kissed both of her grandsons. “I love you two. Tomorrow I make
Pain Perdue
for two very brave little boys.” MaeMae hurried out the room.

“Joelette handed T-Boy his bag of dimes and put her money back in the bag. We'll talk tomorrow. I know I need to apologize to Mansir. But don't get your hopes up about him coming back. This involves a lot of grown up stuff. I'm so sorry. Your hearts were in the right place. You just went about it the wrong way. I love both of you so much and you make me proud every day.” Joelette kissed and hugged Ozamae and T-Boy and turned out their light.

“Give him a chance, mom. His heart's in the right place, too,” T-Boy said.

Such wisdom from such a small boy. He was right. She’d been a fool and she’d certainly made a mess of things. Now she could only pray that Mansir would forgive her silliness and her distrust.

###

“That was an incredible meal. Are you sure you cooked all of this?” Sara asked pushing her plate back.

“I'm a man of many talents. Just ask your brother.” Possum squirmed in his seat. “Ask him. He will tell you the way I handle a shrimp net and know the name of all the creatures of the water.”

“Possum, you have to let the lady know what kind of man you are by yourself. Don't get me involved.” The apparent discomfort Possum was going through amused Mansir. “You don't have to convince anyone you can cook, this was a great meal. Surprised me.”

Mansir stood up and stretched to the full height of the houseboat, bumping his head. “Why don't we go sit on the deck awhile? There's more room and beside there's a lot of hot air in here.”