this tugging in my heart and when I saw you standing all alone in the café the other morning, something changed inside me. You looked so alone, so sad.”
He shrugged, stared off into the night, the sounds of the bayou singing all around him. Then he managed to spill his guts. “Your parents had a special kind of thing and I know you miss your mama. We all miss her. And I miss my daddy and his birthday is coming up and so I can get how you have bad days sometimes. I guess I just want to make you smile again, Alma. Really smile. The way you used to smile.”
She opened the door and came out onto the porch, but she wasn’t smiling at all. “So you think flowers and cookies will do the trick?”
He advanced a couple of inches. “I think you like flowers and cookies. Or at least you used to.”
“I used to like a lot of things.”
With that, she turned to go back inside.
“Alma, why don’t you sit here with me?”
She turned at the door, her blue eyes inky in the muted moonlight. “I’ll be all right, Julien. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same after losing my mama and watching Callie suffer. I’m afraid of what might lay ahead for me.”
He stepped up onto the porch. “C’est pour toi que je suis. I’m here for you, Alma. No matter what. You have to know that.”
She moved toward him and Julien’s heart leapt with joy.
Alma put a hand on his face, her touch like a warm breeze, feather-light and tingling. “I can’t be sure of that, now, can I? And that’s the problem here, now, with you deciding out of the blue you want to woo me. You’ve had a long time to reach this decision. And I’ve been waiting all that time. It won’t hurt to wait a little longer. It won’t hurt to be very sure.”
Then she pulled her hand away and went to the door.
She was gone before Julien could catch his breath. But he could still see her eyes there in the moonlight.
Her beautiful, doubting eyes.
* * *
Alma put the cookies on the counter and stared at the bag.
Her heart wanted her to open that door and let Julien in.
Her head told her to bar the door and run for cover.
It wasn’t just that he’d hurt her so badly on what should have been one of the best nights of her life. Boys kissed other girls all the time. And half the time, they didn’t mean to do it. And the other half of the time, they meant to do it but never meant to make good on it. But that night, her Julien had been so angry and so reckless when he’d stomped off the dance floor and proceeded to humiliate her. He’d drunk some spiked punch, a lot of spiked punch. Then he’d danced with other girls and he’d wound up kissing another girl. Without regard for Alma and her feelings.
That was the part that hurt the most.
But there had been more than the problem of Julien drinking too much and Alma picking a fight with him because of it. And there had been more than him turning to the first pretty girl who passed by to make a bold point with Alma. Julien had always worried that she would go away and never come back. They’d argued about that on their special night.
And in his worries, he’d caused that very thing to happen. But she hadn’t gone away, she’d just stepped out of his arms.
Alma had big dreams, but she’d always thought she’d have Julien to share those dreams. She believed she could go and do and come home and he’d be here, waiting. Or even better, he’d travel with her and see the world she so often talked about.
Julien wasn’t going anywhere. And therein lay the main problem still simmering between them. Julien loved Fleur, Louisiana, more than he could ever love her. And she cared about him too much to ask him to leave with her. It wouldn’t be right. He’d be miserable. And that would make her miserable, too.
So if he was waiting for her, he might have to keep waiting. Alma was just marking time until…
She stopped, stilled. Until what? Until her daddy wasn’t grieving so much? Until her sister Callie was married and happy and chasing children around the flower gardens? Until Brenna finally married her long-time boyfriend and settled into the life she loved in Baton Rouge?
Or was Alma waiting for the day when she truly knew Julien loved her enough to let her go?
Julien might pretend to be a man about town, but Alma had always suspected he hid a lot of angst underneath those killer smiles. And, she reminded herself with a spark of hope, he’d never brought another woman into the café.
Not once in all these years.
Julien should have moved on by now. Alma had suffered through watching him with other women, but she’d also rejoiced when he’d broken things off with those other women. Alma shouldn’t hold it against him if he did fall for someone else since she’d dated other people now and again. Those men didn’t make her feel the way Julien could make her feel—alive, all warm and fuzzy, full of excitement and anticipation. They didn’t have staying power. And since her mother’s sickness and death, she’d rarely had a date. Now she wasn’t so sure she had staying power.
It hurt too much to think about what might happen down the road. It hurt too much to think about what she’d had and lost.
And tonight, it still hurt too much to let go and give in to Julien’s sudden change of heart. Because he loved his life here and she wanted a life out there. And because she might not have much time to explore the world or…love a man. Her mother had run out of time and Callie had lost her husband and now had too much time on her hands. Brenna didn’t have enough time in each day even to plan her wedding.
But what if Alma could make it work? What if Julien was the kind of man who was willing to truly love her, no matter what? He’d have to prove it to her. He’d have to make her see that he was willing to settle down and grow up and…be there.
Just be there. No matter what.
Alma wouldn’t open up her heart to that kind of commitment unless it was solid.
So she put on her pajamas and took the ancient enamel tea kettle and made herself a cup of peppermint tea. Then she opened the crumbled bag Julien had shoved at her and took out a fat, buttery, yellow tea cake. She nibbled it while she stared out into the moonlight and remembered how, long ago, Julien and she would sit and eat tea cakes, their feet dangling in the bayou water, their eyes on each other. He’d kiss her, the taste of vanilla and butter all around them. And they’d laugh and whisper and dream of the future they’d have together.
The future that had disappeared in the swirling wisps of satin and lace as Alma had turned and run away from him. Had she been running away from the constraints of a life on the bayou? Or had she believed she was running toward freedom?
No, her heart hurt too much to ever enjoy freedom. Her guilt at even wanting to break away from her hometown shadowed her like Spanish moss. Sometimes she felt trapped and sometimes she felt captivated.
“I don’t know if I can ever leave,” she said into the night. Then she stood and remembered and closed her eyes to all the wants in her
