Acadian Waltz (25 page)

“You and Uncle
Jack?”

She nodded,
smiling, “When I told Jacques ’bout what my papa had said, he understood and
told me to go with Emile. Eight months later, Emile asked me to marry him and I
agreed, but on one condition. I made Emile promise to give Jacques a job at
Gaspard Fisheries. Jacques’ family was so poor. I wanted to make sure they’d
always be taken care of, and workin’ for Gaspard Fisheries meant you were set
for life in Manchac.”

“Did you love
him?” I asked, wrapping my hands around my warm mug.

“Emile? I grew
to love him, and two years later when my Henri and Jean Marc came, it was
easier. I put Jacques out of my mind.” She sighed and looked away. “But then
Elise Caldwell came to work as a secretary for Emile. She met Jacques, and I
watched them fall in love, even went to their weddin’. Leavin’ the man you love
is hard enough, child, but watchin’ him find love with another is a cruel
reminder of what you gave away.”

“I never knew.
Did my mother know about you and Uncle Jack?”

“Absolument.”
She laughed, a light tinkling kind of laugh “Claire was madder than a tahyo
when she heard I was marryin’ Emile Gaspard. Everyone in town knew she had eyes
for the Gaspard family fortune. Not long after I married Emile, she set her
sights on his brother Etienne, and she got him.”

“Did you ever
tell Uncle Jack about this?”

“No need to,
child. He always knew why I married Emile.”

“But now you two
have a second chance. Aunt Elise and Mr. Gaspard are gone. You can start over.”

“There’s no
second chances at love, Nora T. It’s either always there, shinin’ bright, or it
dims out and fades away. The love I had for your uncle, I still have, but
Jacques….” Her lower lip trembled. “He loved his Elise. Broke his heart when
she passed on; broke my heart when I realized at her funeral that he’d found
true love with another.”

I stared into my
half-empty mug of coffee for a few moments, finding the nerve to say what was
on my mind.

“Why are you
telling me this, Ms. Marie?”

“Jean Marc, of
course. You love him, don’t you, mon p’tit’? So don’t waste the rest of your
life wonderin’. Marryin’ that doctor would make your mama happy, but you would
regret it sooner or later.” She smiled as she took in my shocked face. “Parents
are the burden to their children, Nora T, not the other way ’round. We try to
make them happy, but in the end we’re the ones who suffer. My papa pushed me
into marryin’ Emile, just like your mama is pushin’ you into marryin’ that
doctor. Don’t make my mistake. Don’t settle for somethin’ you never really
wanted in the first place.”

“Do you regret
marrying Emile Gaspard?”

“I regret not
takin’ a chance with Jacques Mouton. I was content with Emile and he was good
to me, but perhaps Jacques could have made me somethin’ better.”

I put my mug on
the table. “I think you and Uncle Jack still have a chance, Ms. Marie.”

She winked at
me. “You and Jean Marc still have a chance, too.”

Chapter 21

After the house
had settled down for the night, I went to the back porch and looked out in the
direction of Jean Marc’s cottage. Through the trees I could see the glow of his
lights. As a warm summer breeze drifted by, I entertained the idea of a life
with Jean Marc. I thought of the way his body felt next to mine, the touch of
his hands against my skin, and the passion his kisses awakened in me. A sudden
rush of something unfamiliar overtook me. It was an overwhelming realization
that this thing between us, this energy, was right. No acid churning in my
stomach, no more twisted anger deep within the pit of my being. There was just
a pure sense of bliss.

I bounded down
the porch steps and headed across the clearing behind the house. Like a moth
eager to find guidance in the night, I set out in the direction of those
cottage lights, determined to find out if what I felt for Jean Marc could last
a lifetime.

When I arrived
at his porch steps, I heard voices coming from behind the cottage. I slipped
around the side of the house, trying my best not to make a sound. After I crept
around the corner, I could see Jean Marc and another man loading boxes on to a
small flatboat tied up to his dock.

“You know where
to go, Pierre?” Jean Marc asked.

“Oui, past Owl
Bayou to North Pass. The usual drop off point,” the other man said in a raspy
voice.

“Come back here
when you’re done.” Jean Marc paused. “You have your gun, Pierre?”

Pierre patted
the butt of a gun sticking out from the waistband of his dirty jeans. “Loaded
and ready, Jean Marc, but I ain’t ‘spectin’ no trouble.” He climbed into the
boat and started the engine.

“Just keep your
eyes open,” Jean Marc warned over the sound of the engine.

Pierre
maneuvered the flatboat, piled high with boxes, away from the dock and into the
swamp. After Pierre’s boat had disappeared behind a veil of darkness, Jean Marc
marched down the dock and through the back door of his house. When I heard the
back screen door slam closed, my heart rose in my throat. Suddenly, all of my
mother’s ramblings about Jean Marc and his shady past came hurtling to the
forefront of my thoughts. I slowly backed away from the side of the house,
keeping my eyes on the empty dock. When I came around the corner of the front
porch, I heard the sound of something moving behind me.

“Care to tell me
what you’re doing out here?”

I twisted around
to see Jean Marc with his .9mm pistol in his hand, glaring at me.

He grabbed my
arm. “What did you see, Nora?”

“What the hell
is going on, Jean Marc? What was all that about on the dock?”

He pulled me to
the screen door on the front porch.

“You shouldn’t
have been sneaking around like that. I could have shot you.” He dragged me
inside the house and slammed the old cypress front door closed with his foot.

He let go of my
arm. “What are you doing here, Nora?” he gruffly demanded as he placed the gun
on a table by the door.

“Oh, no. You’re
going to tell me what that was all about on the dock back there.”

“What do you
think it was?” he asked, his voice peppered with anger.

“It looked like
you were smuggling stuff through the swamps.”

He chuckled.
“What would you know about smuggling?”

“I know what I
saw, Jean Marc.”

He raised his
dark eyebrows. “What you saw? Maybe I was shipping goods to another business,
transporting shellfish or parts.” He walked toward the kitchen. “I never
figured you to be the kind to spy on people, Nora,” he added over his shoulder.

I followed him
to the kitchen. “I wasn’t spying. I came here looking for you.”

He removed two
beers from his refrigerator. “Why?”

“I wanted to
talk to you.”

He picked up the
opener and popped the tops off both of the bottles. “I think we said just about
all there is to say between us the other day. You’re going to marry that idiot
doctor no matter my feelings for you. What else do you have to add?” He came up
to me and handed me a beer.

I took the green
bottle from his hand. “First, tell me what that was on the dock?”

He took a sip
from his beer and moved toward the couch. “You’re not going to like hearing
it.”

“But I would
rather hear the truth from you than a lie.”

He had a seat on
the couch. “You’ve seen my books. You know what a deep financial hole my
company is in. How do you think I’m able to keep Gaspard Fisheries going?”

I approached the
couch. “I know your family history. I’ve heard the stories. You’ve gone back to
smuggling, haven’t you?” I took a drink of beer.

“You’re letting
your imagination run away with you.” He scowled and then his features softened
as his eyes studied me. “What would you think of me if I told you that I was
smuggling?” he asked.

I sat down next
to him. “Nothing would change between us, Jean Marc.”

“Are you sure
about that?”

“How long has
this been going on?”

He sat back on
the couch, letting an unseen weight press him down into the soft leather. “Five
years.” He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. “Twelve years ago when I
returned from Texas, I tried, really tried, to make a go of the business. I
sank all the money I had into the fisheries, but it wasn’t working. Finally,
the money ran out and I had to go back to what I knew best. One run a month
became five, and the money started pouring in. I’ve cut back in the past two
years, and I have other men, men I can trust who need the money, making the
runs now.”

“What are you
smuggling?”

He shrugged as
he evaded my eyes. “Electronics, booze, exotic animals, whatever is needed. I
draw the line at drugs. I’ve never done that, and I never will. Smuggling is
dangerous enough without adding drugs into the mix.”

“Is that why
your man in the boat needed a gun?”

He nodded. “One
can never be too careful.”

I knew I should
have hurried out of that cottage, but I couldn’t. Something inside me refused
to give up on Jean Marc. My father had always taught me that one should never
judge a man because of what he has done without first looking at why he has
done it.

“You need to get
out of this business, Jean Marc,” I finally said as I placed my beer on the
coffee table.

“I know, and I
have been trying to do just that. There are other things I want to do with my
life besides sleep with a gun under my pillow.” He swallowed back a long swig
of the alcohol.

“What other
things?”

He kept his eyes
peeled on the coffee table before him. “Now that you know my dirty little
secret, perhaps it would be best if you just tell me why you came here. Then
you can head back to the house and never come here again. When cousin Ethel
arrives next week, you can go back to your life in New Orleans.”

“I don’t want to
go back to my life in New Orleans.”

He raised his
eyes to me. “I find that hard to believe. I thought you were bound and
determined to marry that doctor of yours.”

I edged closer
to him. “I thought I wanted to marry John, but then I realized you were right.”

He grinned at
me. “I was right? Right about what?”

I shrugged.
“John. I can’t marry him. How can I marry one man when I really belong to
another?”

His face became
like stone. “Who do you belong to, Nora?”

“You,” I
casually stated as I nodded to him.

He put his beer
down on the coffee table next to mine. “What does dear Dr. John have to say
about this?”

“I haven’t told
him yet. I wanted to see what you thought of my idea first.”

Jean Marc’s face
softened and he leaned toward me. “Are you sure? Considering what you have just
learned about me, you might want to go right back to John.”

My heart began
to beat furiously. My toes tingled and my stomach danced with butterflies. “I
must admit, your smuggling activities do pose a problem.”

He moved closer
to me. “Then I’ll quit, starting right now. I’ll find a way to make the
business work.”

I placed my hand
on his chest. “You will give it up, just like that?”

He positioned
his lips right above mine. “Just like that.”

“I don’t believe
you.”

“Try,” he
whispered, and then he kissed me.

An electric
charge rushed through my body when he kissed me. I opened my mouth, accepting
him, and he wrapped his brawny arms about my waist. As I eased into him, all
the apprehension I felt about leaving John and disappointing my mother
instantly vanished.

He pulled away.
“I can think of a thousand reasons to tell you to get the hell out of here
right now, Nora.” He stood from the couch and helped me to my feet.

I slipped my
arms about his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Jean Marc.”

He stared into
my eyes. “Ever since I came back from Texas and saw you all grown-up, I have
done nothing but think about you. I want you, Nora. I’ve always wanted you.”

“Perhaps that’s
why I was always so mean to you. I was afraid to admit that I wanted you, too.”

He unclasped my
arms from about his neck and led me toward the stairs. When he reached the foot
of the steps, he stopped and placed his hands about my face. “Are you sure? I
don’t want to rush you into this.”

I slowly began
undoing the buttons of his long-sleeved blue shirt as I gave him a seductive
smile. “We’ve waited long enough, Jean Marc.”

He took my hand
and quickly pulled me up the stairs. When we reached the second floor landing,
he lifted me into his arms and carried me down a short hallway to his bedroom
door.

I bit down hard
on his right nipple as he pushed the bedroom door open.

“You’re killing
me, Nora,” he groaned as he took me to a large mahogany sleigh bed waiting in
the center of the dimly lit room.

I giggled
against him. “I thought that was the idea.”

Kissing my lips,
he lowered me on to the dark green bedspread. He stood back from the bed and
removed his shirt. “Two can play at that game,” he declared as he threw his
shirt to the floor and climbed onto the bed.

He immediately
began easing me out of my T-shirt and bra. His fingertips gently caressed my
breasts and when he pinched my nipples, I moaned.

Aroused by his
touch, I pressed my body against his warm flesh and reached down to the fly of
his jeans. But when I began fumbling with the buttons, a pang of uncertainty
gripped me as I remembered my encounters with John.

“What do you
want me to do?” I asked breathlessly.

Jean Marc
stopped and looked at me. “Do?”

My face flushed.
“Is there someway you want me to be, or certain things you want me to do?”

He stroked my
left cheek. “I just want you to be you, Nora.”