Page 144 of Frankly, My Dear

Reba nodded excitedly.

“I knew that, too,” Blossom said.

More joyous hugs were exchanged.

“But what’s a perfect fit?” Blossom still wanted to know.

Yes, things were beginning to feel like the normal lunacy at Bayou Noir.

Three more days passed and Selene grew stronger and stronger. Now she worried over James’s absence. Reba claimed she had no idea why her husband and James had hurried off to New Orleans, just that some compelling business with bankers and agents had forced their hasty departure. But Selene saw all the women exchange furtive glances on occasion and knew they kept some secret from her.

The fire had destroyed more than half of the cane, along with a portion of the mansion. Selene sensed that these catastrophes spelled disaster for James. The banks would fore-close. He could lose everything.

And she also feared that in his fierce pride he would refuse to marry her now. He would feel he had nothing to offer her. Oh, she wished he would return so she could tell him that he had the world to give her, if he only would.

Seven days after James had left for New Orleans, Selene sat in the classroom with Etienne. Distracted, she looked out the window and saw a flatboat pulling up at the bayou dock.

“Papa! Papa’s home!” Etienne shouted and ran for the door. Selene rushed after him, but had to pause at the third-floor landing, gasping for breath. When she got to the second-floor entryway leading out to the main gallery, James was already striding up the wide outside steps.

He slowed when he saw her.

In a frozen tableau, Selene watched James move closer. A slow smile moved over his lips, then spread wider into a glorious, wondrous display of dazzling white teeth and that delectable dimple. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and tossed it to a chair without looking.

Dark circles smudged his eyes and new wrinkles of worry crinkled the edges of his lips. A dark shadow of beard covered his face, which seemed thinner, and his ebony hair lay unkempt and too long down his neck. He looked disreputable and absolutely gorgeous.

Behind him she saw Etienne, Fergus with his arm wrapped around Reba’s shoulder, several slaves carrying bundles, and a strange man wearing a clerical collar…a priest. Selene frowned with puzzlement, then concluded that James had brought the priest to perform belatedly the funeral rites over his mother, and maybe even Giselle. Victor’s body had been taken back to New Orleans by his father.

Selene’s heart still ached for the loss of James’s precious mother.

“Selene,” James said simply when he stood in front of her. Then he whooped with joy, startling her, and scooped her up in his arms, twirling her around in a circle. Selene heard Etienne giggle behind her. Finally he set her on her feet and she leaned dizzily against his chest.

“You’re better,” he said, leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips and trace a fingertip along her jaw, as if to make sure she was really alive and well. Then, unable to help himself, he clutched her tightly in his arms and held on tight. Against her neck, he whispered, “Selene…my Selene…I was so afraid that I would lose you. I prayed…oh, chérie, how I prayed!”

She pulled back and smiled up at him through her tears. “So you got deathbed religion, huh? You told me once that God had abandoned you.”

He grinned at her. “He gave me you. I can’t argue with that.”

One of the slaves approached carrying several packages and asked, “Where you wants me to put this?”

“Right here.” James pointed to the parlor, then looked at Selene and winked. “I have some presents for you.”

He winked. Oh, Lord. “You are a rascal, James. In my weakened state, you’re going to make me swoon.”

He gave her a quick look of mock horror. “Not now. I have too many plans for you.”

“Plans? James, you really shouldn’t be spending money on me now with all the repairs needed here at the plantation.”

“Are you nagging me, Selene? Tsk tsk.” He looped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into the parlor, pushing her gently into a chair.

First he handed her a large package. She opened it carefully to find a moss green velvet dress with a fringe edging. She raised an eyebrow in question.

“Your wedding dress,” he said and smiled with immense satisfaction.

“A green wedding dress? And velvet? In Louisiana?”

He waved a hand airily. “Minor details. I remembered you admiring the drapes in the hotel one time. So I purchased them for you and took them to a dressmaker’s.”

“You didn’t!” Selene’s mouth dropped open.