by Ludi and angyxoxo
Remy arrived in
Caldecott County early the next morning with nothing but his wallet, the
clothes on his back, and the vain hope that by the time he was heading back to
New York again, Anna Raven would be by his side.
Of course, by now he
wished he’d had the foresight to bring a proper change of clothes, his cologne,
and at least a razor, because his five O’clock shadow was really starting to
look bedraggled rather than ruggedly sexy.
And he knew that was definitely no way to go and charm a lady.
Still, he freshened up
as much as he was able to at the airport before taking a ride to Rogue’s
hometown. Dodson was a picturesque
community cradled by the muddy banks of the Mississippi, the kind of place that
gave real meaning to the phrase moonlight and magnolias. The more he saw it, the more he was reminded
of his own family home back in New Orleans, the place where he’d left so many
memories behind – both good and bad – and hadn’t returned to since his heart
had been broken.
He looked out the cab
window pensively, watching the cars and the people streaming past. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to admit. His
heart had been broken. And since
then, he hadn’t wanted another woman to touch it for fear it’d break
again. It was ironic that for the first
time in years, he was willing to take a chance on someone. He was willing to take a chance on Rogue,
even if she threw the offer back in his face and broke his heart all over
again. He wanted her that much.
He got out at the
local modern convenience store and paid the cab. The next couple of hours he spent looking for Rogue the hard way
– asking people if they knew her, or where he could possibly find her. The early afternoon found him exhausted and
hungry and no closer to finding his wayward Mississippi river-rat. He’d be darned before he was going to give
up on finding her, but it was no use wandering round on an empty stomach, so he
stopped by at the nearest cafe for some grits and coffee.
The waitress was a
pretty young blonde who was obviously pleased at his attentions and gave him
plenty of coy smiles and an extra cup of coffee on the house. Remy smoked a cigarette in peace, enjoying
the sunshine and thinking how useful his good looks and innate charm had turned
out to be. Not dat it ever did me any good wit’ Anna…
He sighed and sipped
his coffee, thinking how both frustrating and amusing it was that the tables
had been turned on him. Usually he was
the one giving the ladies the run-around; back in the day he and his friends
had laughed and joked about it, even made bets and gambled on it. They’d begged
him to divulge his secrets, just how it was that he managed to score so easily
with any girl he chose. He’d always
laughed and shrugged and said it was nothing more or less than his legendary
mojo.
And then, to his
surprise, he’d been tamed. For the
first time in his life, he’d known what it was to truly love someone. In later years, after it had all fallen
apart and she’d left him, he’d scolded himself, believing she’d made him stupid
and soft and that he’d allowed her to beat him at his own game. He was left feeling bitter and resentful. For a while, women were the enemy. When he’d made his way to New York looking
for a new life, he’d found an almost endless supply of women to seduce and make
him feel in control of his life and his emotions again. Even finding something worthwhile at L&L
hadn’t stopped him. In fact, it’d
become easier. He’d treated women like
dirt and they’d lapped it up. But not
one of them had made him happy the way she
once had.
Then, like a miracle,
like fate, there she was – Anna Raven, gaping at him open-mouthed as he’d
walked into that interview room what now felt like a lifetime ago. He’d basked in the typical reaction he got
from women, allowing his gaze to run over her in a similar fashion, pleasantly
surprised by the vision before him. And what a vision it had been. Scarlett
O’Hara green eyes, cherry red lips just begging to be kissed, a shapely and
voluptuous figure he longed to map out with both hands and mouth. She was wild and untamed, a brassy Southern
bombshell whose innate sexiness came almost unconsciously to her and whose
obvious disdain for him had made him want her all the more. The challenge had been too irresistible to
be ignored. Time and again she’d brushed
him off, giving him back as good as she got.
It had made their flirtation, their kisses all the sweeter.
And then there was
that night, that one wonderful, sexy and passionate night, one he could
scarcely bring himself to believe had happened it had been so incredible…
And now he was hooked
and he didn’t want to give her up.
He wanted to walk her
through these streets and visit all the places she’d ever known; he wanted to
stroll down by the river with her on his arm and laugh and dance and kiss in
the moonlight; he wanted to wake up every morning to find her still lying there
beside him, those gorgeous green eyes gazing into his, letting him heal the
hole in his heart he’d been neglecting for so long.
But she was already
taken and now that he knew just how special she was it didn’t surprise him at
all.
He was in exactly the
same position he’d put so many women in before, and it hurt.
“Heya handsome.”
The blonde waitress
was standing beside him with a pad in her hand, her lilting southern accent
breaking him from his reverie. “Can Ah getcha somethin’ else?”
He looked up and
smiled at her, noticing how she flushed prettily in return.
“No t’anks. If I drink anymore coffee, I’ll be bouncin’
off walls.”
“Then how about
somethin’ else? We have some freshly
baked apple pie just taken outta the oven…”
“No, really,” he
insisted. “M’fine. Got m’self a pretty
girl right here t’ look at, don’t t’ink a man could be needin’ anyt’ing more.”
She giggled and smiled
and blushed in a manner he found rather appealing, and maybe under other
circumstances he would’ve taken things a little further with her, if his mind
wasn’t firmly set on someone else.
“Ah ain’t seen yah
round here before, stranger,” she began shyly. “And Ah’d know that accent
anywhere. You’re Cajun, right?”
“Nothin’ but,” he
grinned that devastating smile that managed to floor the girls every time.
“Remy’s de name. I’m just passin’
through this town. Came here from New
York dis mornin’.”
“New York?” The girl’s
eyes lit up. “Wow. Sounds like you’ve
been places. Me, Ah’ve lived here all
mah life, and it’s nothin’ but borin’.
Ah wish Ah could go t’ New
York. Then Ah’d set mahself up with a
whole new life, a whole new career…instead of bein’ stuck in this here cafe,
day in, day out!” She paused and flushed. “But here Ah am, blabbin’ on again
like always. What brings you through
Caldecott County anyways, if’n yah don’t mind me askin’, Remy?”
“Actually,” he
replied, “I’m here lookin’ for someone.
And since you’ve been livin’ all your pretty li’l life in dese here
parts, chere, mebbe you could tell me where I could find dis person.”
“Of course!” she
returned, her big blue eyes earnest. “If’n Ah can be any help t’ yah, that is.”
“M’ sure you can,
chere,” he answered. “See, I’m lookin’ for dis femme – she’s ‘bout five foot
eight, slim, wit’ a white streak in brown hair…”
“You mean Anna-Marie
Raven?” the girl interrupted before he could finish.
Anna-Marie…?
“Dat’s de femme,” Remy
nodded eagerly. “You know her?”
“Everyone knows
Anna-Marie,” the girl answered, looking a little uncomfortable, which he was
too distracted to notice. “B’sides she’s one of those gals yah just can’t
miss…with that white streak in her hair an’ all.”
Not to mention de fact dat she’s de most beautiful femme dis womanizin’
Cajun’s ever met…
“Could you tell me
where she is?” he asked, his impatience getting the better of him now that he
was closer than ever to finding her.
The girl thought a
second. “Well, she left Caldecott nigh on four years ago. But if she’s come back then she’ll be
stayin’ with her foster mother, Irene Adler.” She paused, and pointed up at a
big, colonial style house, situated on a pleasant-looking hill not far away.
“She lives up there.”
Remy followed her hand
with sudden hope welling inside him.
Without another word he took some change out of his pocket and slapped
it on the table alongside the bill.
“My t’anks, cherie,”
he said, standing up and facing the startled waitress. “And an extra tip in
return for your oh-so-generous help.” And before the girl could say anything
more he had leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on her lips, leaving her
blushing even more violently than before – and with a memory she wouldn’t soon
forget.
-oOo-
It was a gathering of
three women, life-long friends with one of their number conspicuously missing.
They’d gathered in
Emma’s mansion to have one last proper fitting before Jean’s wedding. It should’ve been a day of laughter and
suggestive jokes. But with Rogue gone
from their midst there was a distinct feeling that something irreplaceable was
missing, and neither of the three women particularly wanted to elaborate on the
reasons why their feisty Southern friend wasn’t there.
Emma, complete with
lilac bridesmaid dress and the all-essential plunging neckline, looked at
herself in the full-length mirror and stuck her butt out in the air with an
expression of intense dissatisfaction.
“Hmph,” she grunted to
herself. “Is it just me or has my ass gotten fatter since I last tried this
on?”
Betsy rolled her eyes
as she rearranged the lacy frills at her generous cleavage. “Emma, if you can
fit into that skintight dress without your butt splitting the seams then no, I
don’t think your ass has put on weight.
What is it with you and your butt anyhow?”
“Ugh, I just hate it!”
Emma moaned, swiveling round and patting her posterior as if it would make a
difference. “Why can’t I have a butt like yours? You have such a skinny, supermodel butt. Or what about a pert one like Rogue’s? Mine’s all fat and lumpy.”
“Generous curves are
really hot right now,” Jean put in from the sidelines, trying to be tactful but
earning a penetrating glare from Emma that clearly said, you are so not being helpful right now. All Jean could do in reply was shrug.
“Why are you so
bothered about how you look anyway?” Betsy questioned hotly. “Don’t tell me
you’re going to be on the pull at Jean’s wedding, now that you don’t have
Carlos anymore?”
“Oh Carlos-shmarlos!”
Emma snapped, giving up on her butt and heaving her wonderbra back into place.
“For your information, I don’t give a damn about any of the guys going to Jean’s
wedding!” She paused, pouted and stared at her cantilevered breasts in the
mirror. “I’ve got someone else in mind,” she added in a haughty tone.
“Here it comes,” Betsy
muttered and began to hunt for her lipstick.
“Who?” Jean asked
curiously from the other side of the room, where she was adjusting her veil in
the mirror. It was a fiddly arrangement
of lace tulle, and she was beginning to wish she wasn’t wearing a veil at all.
“That Shaw guy?”
“Good gracious no!”
Emma looked shocked. “I might as well go out with my grandfather! Ugh!”
“Ohmigod!” Betsy
suddenly looked up wide-eyed over her compact mirror, mid lipstick application.
“It’s Bobby Drake, isn’t it!”
The smug look on
Emma’s face said it all. Jean and Betsy
exchanged a quick look of surprise and delight before pouncing on their friend.
“What? So you two are finally an item?” Betsy cried.
“Well…not exactly,”
Emma shrugged with feigned nonchalance.
Everyone knew she was secretly loving the attention.
“But I thought you
fired him!” Jean exclaimed.
“Well, I did,” Emma
suddenly looked uncomfortable. “But I swallowed a king-size piece of humble pie
and phoned him yesterday. You have no
idea how much I humiliated myself just to get him to stay on the line. I asked him if we could at least talk things
over, you know…set things right.”
“And he said…?” Betsy
prompted eagerly.
“He was reluctant,”
Emma replied, trying to make light of it, but both women could tell it had hit
her hard – Emma had never had to beg for a thing in her life, and they knew
that if she’d begged Bobby as hard as she’d appeared to, it meant she really
did care for him. Emma continued,
looking at her reflection with a despondent expression as she did so. “He said
I’d insulted him and that he didn’t know whether it was worth talking things
over if I wasn’t going to be honest with him.
So I promised him I would be. I
said I just wanted him to give me a chance to explain myself and apologize properly. And he said…” she sighed and smiled a small
smile at herself, “he said… okay.”
“Emma, that’s great!”
Jean enthused.
Emma shrugged. “It
doesn’t mean anything – yet. He said
he’d come round tomorrow, talk things over.
I guess we’ll just see how things go from there.”
Betsy gave a sarcastic
whistle. “Well who would’ve believed it?
Emma Frost thinking of going steady!”
“Shut up!” Emma huffed
petulantly. “It’s not like I’m signing my life away like Jean is!”
“Hey!” Jean cried, but
Emma ignored her indignant tone.
“No disrespect, Jean,
but can you imagine living the rest
of your life with one man? I know I couldn’t!”
“Well, not everyone’s
so cynical about men as you, Emma,”
Betsy cut in heatedly. “Honestly, you treat them like they’re this season’s
fashion – once the novelty factor’s over they’re out the door faster than you
can say Coco Chanel! You have no sense
of romance, that’s what your problem is.”
“So?” Emma retorted
hotly. “Romance is so damn
overrated! I couldn’t stand seeing the same guy day in, day
out! Don’t you ever get bored with Scott, Jean? I mean, I don’t get it. What’s it
like to be with a guy for five years straight? Don’t you sometimes feel like you’re just going through the
motions, that getting engaged is just a natural progression because it’s what
normal couples do when they’ve been together for years? Is the sex still even good?”
“Emma!” Betsy gasped, shocked; but Emma shrugged calmly.
“I’m being serious,
Betts. Think about it from my
perspective, okay? Sure, I’ve been
around the block a few times where men are concerned, but my longest relationship
was what – two months? – and I only put up with him because he gave absolutely
heavenly foot massages. I mean, what is
it that makes a woman want to spend the rest of her life with one man when she
could have her pick of many? I really do want to know. So c’mon, Dr. Jean Grey. Why don’t you tell me where I’ve been going
wrong all these years?”
Jean was silent a
moment, toying with the edge of her veil before shrugging.
“I don’t know. Patience?
Friendship? Humor?” She paused,
about to say ‘trust’, but knew she’d feel a hypocrite if she did so.
“And does Scott have
all these qualities?” Emma asked. “Is that
why you’re marrying him?”
“What Emma really wants to know,” Betsy put in
comically, “is doesn’t sex at least play a little
part in it?”
Emma pretended to
lunge at Betsy, who ducked and fell back on the bed laughing.
“Actually, Elisabeth
Braddock, I was being deadly serious for once,” Emma informed the chuckling
ex-model, trying to look cross but failing miserably. “I hardly know a thing
about Scott – we barely ever see the
man!” She looked over pointedly at Jean. “What’s wrong – doesn’t Scott like us
or something? Are we too vampish for
his tastes? Is he afraid we’ll turn you
into a scheming seductress?”
This was all said
jokingly, but was so close to the truth that Jean couldn’t laugh about it.
“Well, um…” she
mumbled nervously, her cheeks reddening, “maybe he does think you girls can be
a bit…rowdy sometimes.”
“Rowdy?” Betsy
shrieked with laughter. “I knew it!
Scott doesn’t approve of us!”
“Now that’s not true!”
Jean retorted defensively.
“God, I’m only
kidding!” Betsy exclaimed, looking a bit upset that Jean had taken things so
badly. “Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if it was true. He wouldn’t be the only one! I mean, between you and me… Neal didn’t
really like any of you guys either. Do
you know what he called you, Emma? A
cheap hoe with bad dress sense and delusions of grandeur!”
“He said what?!” Emma swung round in outrage, her
blue eyes flashing daggers. “Of all the nerve! I hope you phone that little toe-rag and
turf his good-for-nothing ass out of your life pronto!”
Betsy lifted the
mirror to her face and replied with great aplomb: “Don’t worry, Emma. The deed has been done.”
“So you told him it’s
over?” Jean asked quickly, glad to turn the subject away from Emma’s
uncomfortable questioning. Betsy
nodded. She’d already informed Jean and
Emma of the latest dramatic developments in her life – although she’d neglected
to mention Warren to Emma, not to mention the fact that she had a date lined up
with him that very Friday. Besides,
Jean suspected that Betsy was still a little scared of Emma’s reaction once she
found out Betsy was dating her most hated enemy.
“Yup,” Betsy returned.
“I told him it was over for good. He
ranted for five whole minutes before giving up. In a way I think he’d seen it coming. I said I still wanted for us to be friends, but he pretty much
threw that back in my face.”
“So he didn’t take it
too well then?” Jean probed.
“I don’t think
so. He was very cold when we hung up,
but I guess I can’t blame him.”
“Sounds like it’s all
or nothing with him,” Jean noted. “Notice how when you stick up for yourself he
doesn’t want anything more to do with you.
Sounds like you did right in dumping him, Betts.”
“I hope so.” She
paused and began applying her lipstick again before asking rapidly: “So… Anyone
heard from Rogue? The funeral’s today,
isn’t it?”
Jean nodded gravely.
“Yeah. I don’t think she’s looking
forward to it. She said she’s glad to say
goodbye to Cody, but she doesn’t think she can face all his old friends and
relatives. They haven’t treated her
kindly at all since she got there.”
“Hmm,” Betsy voiced
worriedly, “I suppose they still blame her in a way… It is entirely natural after all…”
“What happened
could’ve happened to anyone, Betts,” Jean pointed out, removing the veil and
setting it wearily aside. “Rogue was just in the wrong place at the wrong
time. It wasn’t her fault.”
“I know,” Betts
nodded, “All I’m saying is that I can understand why his parents would act like
that towards her… Cody being their only son and all…”
“Cody was the love of
Rogue’s life too,” Jean returned sternly. “She lost just as much as his parents
did and we shouldn’t forget that either.”
A short, gloomy
silence settled over the three women before Emma suddenly spoke up more
cheerfully from the sidelines: “Speaking of the love of her life…You’ll never
guess who I met yesterday.”
“What?” Betsy’s eyes
were suddenly hawk-like. “Who?”
“Remy LeBeau.” Emma replied
smugly.
“Remy LeBeau!” both Jean and Betsy chorused in amazed unison. Emma nodded wordlessly.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod!”
Betsy gasped and flapped her arms about manically. “That is so unfair! What does he look like!”
“Exactly the way Rogue
described him – only about a thousand times hotter!” Emma exclaimed
dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Geez – if I was Rogue I would’ve jumped his
bones the moment I laid eyes on him!
And that accent!” She fanned herself with a hand. “The man is simply to die for!”
“Ohmigod, this is too
much!” Betsy squealed. “So did he come over while you were at Rogue’s
apartment? Was he looking for her?”
“Was he ever!” Emma
enthused, leaning over the dresser to check her mascara again. “The guy was
desperate! Asking me for her phone
number, begging to know where she was staying… He just wouldn’t leave! I’ll tell you something girls. He is hotter for her that a warm day in
Hell! Rogue isn’t going to stay single
long, I promise you that.”
“Emma,” Jean asked
from the bed in softer, curious tone. “Did you tell him where Rogue was?”
Emma turned round
again, a wry smile on her face. “Believe me, Jean, I didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t leave until I’d told him. The guy’s such a charmer! I don’t know why, but whenever he looked at
me I had this overwhelming need to tell him all I knew – and then give him my
wallet, rings and any other pawnable item on my body as well. Not to mention my body itself,” she added
with a very large, wicked smirk. “And then
– get this – when I’d told him where Rogue was he actually kissed my hand! Kissed
my hand, no less! Well, I didn’t
know whether to laugh or swoon or go down on him there and then!”
“Ohmigod, that is so wrong!” Betsy breathed. “But so right!
I simply must meet this guy!”
“Trust me, Betsy,”
Emma quipped jokingly, “this guy raises the bar about ten foot for all hot men
worldwide. You’ll never look at another
guy the same way again.”
“So Bobby Drake
doesn’t quite make the grade now, does he?” Betsy threw back sarcastically, to
which Emma promptly stuck out her tongue and turned back to the mirror.
“Well,” Jean attempted
to say severely, a small smile nevertheless playing across her face, “I hope
Rogue thanks you for leading him to her doorstep, Emma.”
“Pfft!” Emma replied
flippantly. “Rogue’s insane! The way
she was going on about all that ethical ‘he’s-my-boss’ crap! The girl so obviously fancies the pants off
the guy and is in mind-warping self-denial!
You’d have to be brain-dead to waste your time procrastinating when a
sex god like that makes himself available to you!”
“Rogue was only being
loyal to Cody,” Betsy scolded her. “You’re so bloody cruel, Emma!”
“I don’t care!” Emma
pouted. “Look, I know Rogue’s upset and she has good reason to be so. All I’m saying is, when there comes a time
she wants to start looking to the future, she’ll have someone there by her side
to help her pick up the pieces. And
Rogue’s lucky she has someone, Betts.” She turned back towards the mirror and
added thoughtfully to herself: “She doesn’t know just how lucky she is.”
-xXx-
It was your typical
old house on the hill, large and faintly decrepit, weatherworn yet somehow
welcoming with it.
Remy stood out on the
veranda, trying to connect Anna to the house, imagining childhood memories that
he might never get to know. Somehow,
even though the only Anna he’d known was the brazen and sophisticated New York
businesswoman, it didn’t seem so hard to place her in this
magnolia-and-molasses background that seemed a whole life away from the buzzing
hive of activity that was the Big Apple.
He self-consciously
ran a hand through his hair and brushed himself down before reaching out a hand
and knocking on the door.
There was no answer
for a long time, and he shifted awkwardly on the veranda, wondering if anyone
was in at all, or if she’d seen him coming over a distance and was purposely
ignoring him. The thought distressed
him and he shoved it aside immediately.
Even if he had to break the door down he was going to have it out with
her!
It turned out there
was no need. Presently he heard the
sound of someone approaching, the staccato rapping of a cane on wooden
floorboards. He stopped slouching and
stood up straight, just as the door was thrown open.
The woman on the other
side of the threshold was a small, spare lady in her sixties, with a careworn
face that looked as if it might have been beautiful once if it hadn’t borne the
weight of so many difficult years. She
raised her head slightly, but not quite to the level of his face. Her eyes were obscured behind dark shades
and in her right hand she held an elegant, polished, mahogany cane.
“Irene Adler?” he
asked. The woman’s face raised a little
more, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar voice.
“Yes?”
“My name’s Remy
LeBeau,” he introduced himself. “I’m lookin’ for Anna.”
The woman’s expression
changed.
“You’d better come
in,” she said.
Irene walked round the
kitchen with the brisk pace of habit.
Remy sat at the dining table and watched her move, half impatient to
hear about Rogue, half interested to see the place where she’d grown up. Irene intrigued him, not least because she
seemed so unlike Rogue – and yet it was she that had brought Rogue up. He wondered what Anna had been like when she
was a child – had she always been so beautiful, or just a gawky young teenager
who’d blossomed? What made her sad
about this place, what made her happy?
Why had she decided to leave Caldecott at all? A plethora of questions suddenly overwhelmed him. He was closer
to knowing more about Rogue than ever before, and yet he remained silent, not
knowing whether asking this quiet little old lady about her daughter’s past was
acceptable or out of line. Instead he
watched the brisk, methodical movements of the woman as she went about her
everyday routine.
Presently she came up
and placed a steaming cup of tea before him before slowly sitting down opposite
him.
“So,” she began
mildly, “you’re Remy LeBeau.”
“You heard of me?”
“Anna mentioned you.”
He didn’t quite know
how to feel about that. “Oh.”
There was a faint
smile on the old woman’s face as she reached in her pocket for a packet of
cigarettes. “She likes you,” she said, popping one of the cigarettes in her
mouth and patting herself down for a lighter.
Seeing she couldn't find it, Remy reached out with his own and offered
it to her. She continued to search, as
if she hadn’t seen him at all. It was
only then that Remy realized that Irene Adler was blind. A surge of sympathy welled up within
him. So Anna had spent her childhood
looking after a blind foster mother… Somehow it was so like her. His heart went out to her even more than it
had before.
Standing up, he leaned
over the table towards the older woman.
“Here, let me.” He
flicked the lighter, lit the woman’s cigarette. When it was finally smoking she sat back and smiled slightly at
him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He sat back down,
looking briefly round the room. There
didn’t seem to be any sign of Anna, nor of any of her belongings. But there were two cups left out by the sink, one small token that her
presence had been in this house. His
optimism grew a little.
“So she told you she
liked me, huh?” he asked shortly. “If dat’s so, den why’d she leave me?”
Irene pulled on her
cigarette, her expression contemplative. “Coming here was something she had to
do,” she returned after a moment, rather cryptically.
“Den she should’ve
told me.”
“Should she? Does she really owe you anything?”
Remy pursed his lips
and pushed the cup of tea aside, standing up and leaning towards the older
woman. “Look,” he began, “I don’t have time for dis. I know Anna’s got another guy, an’ I know she probably doesn’t
want t’ see me no more… But I have t’ talk t’ her. I have t’ tell her how I feel.”
“And how do you feel about her?” Irene asked
softly.
“I care for her enough
to come all de way down here from New York even though I know she’s already
taken,” he confessed after a moment. It
was more than he’d ever be willing to admit to anybody but he really was
desperate to see her again. “Look, Ms. Adler, if you’d just tell me where she
is…”
“She’s busy right
now,” Irene replied calmly, signing for him to sit down again. “It’s best you
don’t go and see her.”
“You mean she’s wit’ him, right?” he asked, crestfallen.
“In a manner of
speaking, yes.” She paused. “She’s gone to pay him her last respects.”
Remy stared sharply at
her, stunned. Irene remained
unflustered, not having seen his reaction at all. He pulled out the photograph from his pocket, flashed it at her,
forgetting her blindness in his shock. “We talkin’ ‘bout de same guy here, Ms.
Adler? De guy in dis picture?”
Irene smiled
faintly. “I am blind, Mr. LeBeau. I never knew what he looked like. But if that is the photograph that Anna
always used to carry round with her wherever she went… then yes, it’s him.”
Remy sat down again
slowly, confused.
“You mean…he’s…”
“Dead? Yes, Mr. LeBeau. He passed away just last week.
Anna came here for the funeral this morning. She wanted to say goodbye.”
Remy was silent,
swallowing this new piece of information whole. The shock, the tears… the reason behind them all became clear to
him now, not to mention the reason she’d run away after spending the night with
him. He’d thought she’d just had a row
with her boyfriend, slept with him, realized her mistake, and run off to make
up with the guy, leaving Remy feeling
stranded and hurt. But it turned out it
was Remy himself who’d made the mistake and read the whole situation
wrong. He didn’t know whether to feel
upset or relieved. He’d been agonizing
over her for the past few days and now that he knew she was available to him he
should’ve been dancing for joy. But
what stood in their way now was something a whole lot more complicated than any
living, breathing boyfriend.
Remy ran an agitated
hand through his hair and swore.
“Merde…”
Irene said nothing,
silently blowing smoke across the table, waiting for him to speak. After a moment he looked up and asked with
genuine concern: “Is Anna… Is she okay?”
The older woman felt
for a nearby ashtray, pulled it towards her. “As well as you might expect,” she
replied soberly, setting the smoldering cigarette aside. “She was … very close
to him.”
“Tell me about them,”
Remy asked softly. Irene was
meditative, saying nothing as she calmly lifted her teacup and took a sip as
she ruminated over past events.
“His name was Cody
Robbins,” she began at last, placing the cup methodically back into its saucer.
“He and Anna were childhood sweethearts.
They were inseparable as children, and over time the feelings grew into
something more. They fell in-love and
soon after became engaged.”
“Engaged, huh?” Remy
repeated bitterly, looking down at the photo of the smiling couple in his
hands.
“Yes,” Irene nodded
shortly. “Some said it was fate, that they were meant to be together, that they
couldn't be suited to anyone else but one another. And Anna was happy. She
never even wanted to look at another man.
They were, to all intents and purposes, what most people would call the
perfect couple.” She smiled, a fond little smile at memories that now seemed
somehow quaint and nostalgic. “Then, two weeks before they were about to be
married, there was an accident. A car
accident. It was a miracle they both survived.”
Remy chewed on his
bottom lip, his expression pensive. “And Anna… she was de one behind de wheel?”
Irene nodded
grimly. “Yes. Luckily she got away with some bruises and a few broken
ribs. Cody wasn’t so fortunate. The accident left him in a coma and the
doctors said there was no hope he’d ever recover. You can imagine how heartbroken Anna was. Here she was, a young bride-to-be, so full
of hopes and dreams and expectations.
And suddenly, there wasn’t going to be a groom waiting for her at the
altar and it was all her fault. She
just couldn’t stay in Mississippi after that.
It was the survivor guilt – everyday she’d wish she’d been taken instead
of him. His parents never forgave her
for living while their son was left hanging on the edge of death. And she couldn’t bear to be round Cody
anymore, knowing he’d never wake up, knowing that even though he was still
clinging onto life he’d never be able to see her again.”
“So she moved to New
York,” Remy concluded, slowly realizing they shared a lot more in common than
he’d first thought.
“Yes.” Irene nodded.
“To be with the friends who cared for her and would keep an eye on her. She wanted to start afresh, live a new
life. Things were difficult for her
though. Her career, her relationships…
nothing ever worked out. At one point
she wanted to give in and come back here…” Irene half smiled, resting her hands
upon her brass-headed cane, “…but I knew she was better off staying in New
York. I told her she just had to stick
at it. Something good was destined to come her way. The girl deserved nothing less, after all
the pain she’d been through. She never
believed me though. I don’t think she
thought anyone could ever make her as happy as Cody did.”
Remy’s smile was
slightly shamefaced though filled with relief. “Kinda makes a guy understand
why she was always on de defensive all de time, neh?”
Irene smirked. “She’s
a stubborn girl. But you have to
understand what she’s been through.”
His face softened as
he fingered the edges of the photo, smoothing a thumb across her cheek. “Just
wish she’d told me,” he stated in a low voice.
“She’s proud too, in
case you hadn’t noticed. She’d be
darned before she told an untrustworthy Cajun Casanova her life story, don’t
you think?”
Remy’s mouth twisted
humorously. “She said dat ‘bout me, huh?”
“Yes.” Irene nodded.
“She has… a very big soft spot for you, Mr. LeBeau.”
“Big enough to make it
worth me goin’ out dere and askin’ her whether we have a chance?” he asked
hopefully. Irene shrugged.
“She thinks you don’t
really want her. I don’t know whether
the fact that you’ve chased her all the way down here will change her mind
about that, but what I do know is that anything’s worth a try.” She paused and
her face softened. “All I want for that girl is happiness, Mr. LeBeau. I don’t know how trustworthy you are with
any woman’s heart, let alone hers. But
you’ve told me you care about her, and that’s more than any man’s given her
these past few years. Maybe if you tell
her so, she’ll give you a chance.”
Maybe. Maybe it was too soon to ask her to be with
him, or maybe it wasn’t and she’d give him a chance. Whatever her answer would be, Remy was determined to make a go of
it.
He looked down at the
photo in his hand, the smiling girl who’d lost so much. She was everything he’d ever wanted and he
was willing to give back every little thing she’d lost if it was in his power.
He stood up.
Remy was going to tell
her how he felt, even if it cost him all the heart he had left.
-oOo-
I can’t cry.
It’s been four years
since I arrived in New York, four years since I stopped thinking about this
whole sorry affair and now that it’s all been rushing back at me, I still can’t
cry. Even standing here, right in front
of Cody’s grave.
For once I’m alone and
it’s just him and me. All the way
through the service, I’d stood on the sidelines, feeling uncertain and
unwelcome by his loved ones. Now, with
the mourners dispersed, I’ve finally got time to say goodbye properly. Only I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I can let go, if it’s
too soon. I’ve been standing here ten
minutes already, wondering why the tears aren’t coming. I feel as if I don’t have any tears left to cry.
A breeze gets up and I
tug my coat closer about me, wishing more than anything to have someone’s arms
round me, a little bit of warmth from the coldness I feel inside.
“Rogue?”
At the unexpected yet
familiar voice I start and swing round, shocked. He’s standing only a few feet away, looking as gorgeous as he
always does. Remy LeBeau. My heart does a leapfrog. Seeing him again, for the first time since that night, gives me a tingling feeling
of both dread and delight.
“What’re you doin’ here?!” I exclaim, unable to
hide my surprise.
“What does it look
like?” he asks. He takes a step towards
me and I quickly lower my head.
“Yah shouldn’ta
followed me, Cajun,” I mutter.
“Why?” he asks. “In
case y’ didn't know, y’ kinda had me wonderin’ why y’ left me high an’ dry
without sayin’ goodbye.”
“What?!” I turn to him again angrily. “That’s rich, comin’ from
you! Ah spend one night with a man
who’s had just about every girl in town, an’ then he expects me t’ leave him an
explanation as t’ why Ah left?! Y’ sure
have got some nerve, Remy LeBeau!”
“Okay, okay,” he
concedes bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “So maybe I deserved t’ be
treated like dat, but…”
“It ain’t what yah
deserve, Cajun, it’s what yah expect!” I yell at him. “It’s what yah expect
from every sad little ‘relationship’ yah’ve ever had! Why am Ah any different?!
Why do Ah haveta explain myself to yah?!”
I turn my back on him
again, my gaze falling onto to Cody’s tombstone. Tears finally smart my eyes.
Why can’t he leave me alone? I
don’t want to be reminded of what we shared.
I don’t want to face that feeling inside of me, the feeling I get when I
see him, when I know I should be mourning Cody’s loss.
“I heard about Cody,”
he says at last with uncharacteristic softness. “I know how you must be
feelin’, and I didn’t want t’ intrude on your grief. An’ I know you probably don’t want t’ see me anymore after what
happened b’tween us but I just had to let you know dat…”
He pauses and I can’t
help but fill in for him: “That you finally won? That you finally succeeded in gettin’ me into yah bed? That Ah was the best fuck you ever had?”
“You really t’ink I’d
come all de way down here just t’ say dat to you?” he asks sadly. I can’t answer. I’m too scared. “Truth is, chere,” he continues, “I didn’t know
it ‘till de other night, but… I really care for you. T’ink I always did, I just didn’t know it. You special, Rogue. Dere ain’t no other femme like you.”
“And how many gals
have yah said the exact same thing to, huh?” I ask coldly, never taking my eyes
away from Cody’s grave.
“I ain’t gonna lie,
Rogue. I said it to a lot o’
girls. But wit’ you, I mean it.”
I don’t believe
him. I can’t believe him.
“Rogue, I know you
been hurt. Believe me, I know.” His
tone drops and I’m surprised to hear real pain in his voice. “I once had
someone I cared ‘bout too. Really cared about, like you cared ‘bout
Cody. Her name was Belle – we’d been
in-love since we was pups. We were gon’
get married too. Thought it was gon’
last forever, dat dere’d never be a femme as special as her. But she decided she didn’t feel de same way
‘bout me. She called de whole t’ing
off, told me she’d found someone else.
For a long time, I didn’t want t’ b’lieve it was over either.” He
pauses, but I still can’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes are burning as I look down at Cody’s
grave. He’s never told anyone this before, Ah know he hasn’t…He’s been hurt as
much as Ah have, maybe more… Cody never rejected meh… At least Ah know he died
lovin’ meh… But him and Belle… “I guess I figured dat if I couldn’t care
for anyone after Belle, I wouldn’t even bother tryin’,” he says, shamefaced. “I
was an idiot. I slept wit’ any girl I
could, jus’ cos it was easy. I tried t’
kid myself into thinkin’ it felt better because it didn’t haveta be anyt’ing
deep. But den you come along an’ change
all dat.”
Why is he doing
this? I can’t understand. To lay himself bare like that… He must mean
it, he must…
I turn to him, my eyes
moist.
“Just one night, one
crazy night an’ you think yah care
about me, Cajun? Just like yah ‘cared’
‘bout all those other gals?”
He’s closer now, so
close that if I didn’t have an ounce of sense in me I’d’ve thrown my arms
around him and kissed him…
“You want me t’ say
it?” he asks in sudden frustration. “Okay den, I’ll say it. I love
you Rogue. I love your eyes. I love your smile. I love your laugh an’ dat stupid skunk stripe in your hair. I even love de way you sass an’ insult
me. Dere, I said it. Goddammit, Rogue, what more d’you want from
me?”
He’d said it. He’d said those words. A part of me
can’t believe it. All that time waiting
to hear those words again… All the loneliness and the heartbreak and the
self-doubt… And he feels the same way about me, the way Cody felt about me…
It’s too good to be
true. All the times he’d harassed me,
insulted me, stared at me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat… Could
it really have been a cover for love? I
can’t believe it. It can’t be
possible. And yet he came all the way down here just t’ see meh, just t’ tell me
all this… He can’t be lyin’… An’ if he ain’t lyin’…
I shake my head
fiercely. No, this is wrong, this is all wrong…
“This ain’t right,” I
announce half to myself.
“Ain’t right?” He’s so
close now and his hand clutches my arm, trying to pull me round to face him.
“Rogue, how can dis not be right if I…”
“Because it ain’t!” I
shout, whirling round and wrenching my arm from his grasp. He steps back, wounded, and I try not to
feel sorry for him, I can’t… The
tears are finally falling now, thick and fast.
“Look at yah! Comin’ all the way down here and declarin’
yah so-called undyin’ love for meh in a cemetery, in front of the grave of mah
fiancé, the man Ah was meant t’ marry!
Ah’ve just been to his funeral, goddammit! Cody was the only man
who ever loved meh, Cody was the man
Ah was supposed to spend the rest of mah life
with! How dare yah come here and treat
his mem’ry with disrespect! How
insensitive can yah be, expectin’ me t’ make a decision t’ be with you when
Ah’m here mournin’ for his loss!”
“Rogue, dat ain’t what
I meant,” he tries to defend himself, and it must be the first time I’ve heard
him sounding truly desperate but I refuse to hear any more.
“Yah don’t know what
love is!” I retort heartlessly, unable to help myself. “Yah don't know what
it’s like t’ love meh! What me an’ Cody
had was love. It was knowin’ his favorite cereal, his favorite book, his favorite
team, what made him smile and what made him tick. And he knew Ah take my coffee with one sugah. He knew Ah can play
the blues, that Ah love horses and that stupid swing down by the river
‘cos…‘cos it was the place we shared our first kiss.” I blink, an unruly tear
clinging stubbornly to an eyelash before slipping and plummeting down to the
ground. I take in a breath, barely able
to say anymore. “That was love,
Remy,” I half whisper. “And what we have ain’t love.”
He’s quiet, and I can feel how much he wants to put his arms round me, and I want him to, I want him to prove me wrong…
“You’re right,” he finally replies, softly, slowly. “I don’t know dat kind of love. I’ve never had it. And it’s true I don’t even know a t’ing about you.” He stops, raises his eyes to me. “But I wan’ you t’ teach me, Anna. I wan’ you t’ teach me what it takes t’ be your man.” He steps in close beside me and the next moment his finger hooks my chin, turning me to face him, to gaze into those beautiful eyes of his, and I can’t say no. “Maybe dis ain’t love an’ I’m just goin’ crazy, but I don’t know what else to call it. I can’t get you out of my head, you’re dere every step I take, every corner I turn. I just want t’ make you happy, Anna. Tell me dat ain’t love.”
I stare into those
calm crimson eyes, their truth, their sincerity… and suddenly I believe what
he’s saying. I want him to wrap his arms around me and hold me. I want him to
love me. But I just can’t…
I turn my head away,
breaking his touch. “Ah’m just your fantasy, Remy,” I reply, sadly, firmly.
“The only one who ever accepted and loved me for all that Ah am is lying six
feet beneath yah. Don’t give me this bullshit about wanting to make me happy…
yah can’t. You’re not him.”
“I know,” he answers. “I ain’t Cody. Maybe I’ll never measure up t’ him… But I just had to tell you how I
felt… B’cause dat night meant somet’ing, Anna. It wasn’t just a one night stand… it was
somet’ing more, it made me want somet’ing
more –”
“Yah don’t get it, do
you?” I hiss through my teeth, suddenly frustrated. “Yah come here an’ talk
about that one dirty night as if it’s evidence that there’s somethin’ more
b’tween us. And you even do it in front
of mah fiancé’s grave! Well if that’s
the way you want t’ play it then fine!
You wanna know the truth, Cajun?!
The truth is, Ah wanted t’
sleep with yah! Ah wanted t’ do it,
because Ah was sad an’ pathetic an’ lonely, an’ Ah figured Ah’d never meet a
decent guy again who’d comfort me an’ love me for who Ah am an’ not b’cause of what Ah look like! And there yah were, an’ yah would’ve taken me even if Ah was some
cheap hooker offa the streets, an’ Ah knew you didn’t love me and that Ah
didn’t love you, but Ah still wanted
it b’cause no one else would have meh!”
I stop, and every word
I say cuts me to the core but I just can’t stop, I’m so furious, with Cody,
with Remy, with myself. He just stares
at me, dumbfounded. I look at his face
and I know I’ve finally done it – I’ve hurt him. For the first time, I’ve really, truly wounded him.
“Don’t yah get it?!” I
yell when he doesn’t leave. “It was me!
Ah was the one who took
advantage of you!”
He flounders, finally
finding his voice. “Is dat how it truly was for you, Anna?” he questions,
totally deflated. “Just some crazy fling?”
I turn back to the
grave, swallowing hard. I can’t bring
myself to deny my true feelings anymore.
I know I can’t say yes. So I say
nothing.
“Rogue?” he asks
again.
“Leave me alone!” I
reply vehemently. Leave me alone to be with the man Ah was supposed to be with, the only
man who ever treated me right. How can
Ah ever trust yah to be faithful t’ me like Cody was? How can Ah ever believe you love me after the way you’ve treated
meh all this time? Out of the corner of my eye, I see him finally back
away.
“All right, Anna,” he
says softly, defeated. “You win. I’m
goin’. I just hope y’ find a man who
measures up t’ Cody. Good luck findin’
him, chere. You deserve him, more den I
deserve you.”
He leaves. My heart sinks. I can’t bear to see him walk away from me. I’m left alone, back to my thoughts, to my
prayers, to my grief. A part of me
resents him for intruding into my space, the last space I’d ever reserved for
Cody. Another part longs to accept
everything he just offered to me. But I
can’t help feeling this way. I can’t
help feeling that I was the one who survived Cody, that I have to spend every
last day of my life honoring the fact that he died and I lived so I could carry
on his memory.
The tears begin to
fall again as I gaze down at his grave.
Help me, Cody. Help me know
what to do.
-xXx-
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