Sweetheart Reunion

She had a sick feeling that her sister had betrayed her by working with the enemy. But was Julien her enemy? Or was he trying to make amends after all this time. But why now?

“Are you gonna plant it?” Winnie asked, her smile as knowing as a cat’s. “Or let it die a slow death in that pot?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Alma took the iris and set it away from the cash register. She’d display it for all to see and then she’d decide what to do about the flower. And about Julien’s request.

* * *

He was waiting for her after work.

“Hello.”

Alma looked down at him, taking in the way he hovered there on the bottom step. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long. Just got here. And right on time.”

Not used to having him around so much, Alma glanced behind her to make sure everyone had left. Then she turned and hurried down the steps. “It’s late, Julien. Go home and get some rest.”

He gave her a look similar to the one he’d had right before he’d kissed her. “I’m not tired.”

“Well, I am.”

He fell in beside her as she walked the short distance to the little white cottage sitting like a dollhouse underneath an ancient cypress tree. The house was precariously close to the dark waters of the bayou. Alma often spotted alligators and snakes in the water just a few feet from her back dock. But tonight she feared the most dangerous predator was walking on two feet beside her.

“I’ll make you a nice cup of herbal tea,” he said, not skipping a beat. “And my mama made tea cakes this afternoon.” He pulled a bag around. “Fresh outta the oven.”

Alma loved Mrs. LeBlanc’s tea cakes.

“We used to eat those after school,” she said before she could catch herself.

“Oui, that we did. It’ll be like old times.”

His triumphant tone nettled at her like a thorny bush. Grabbing the bag, she turned at the door. “But we’ve both changed since then, haven’t we? I have to go.”

“Alma?”

“Thank you, Julien. For the iris and for the tea cakes. I can make my own tea. Good night.”

Alma closed the door and bolted it both against her racing heart and Julien’s crestfallen expression.

* * *

That had not gone the way he’d planned.

Julien stood there, his hands on his hips, the scent of her soap-clean lotion still swirling around his nose.

The iris should have done it. The tea cakes should have sealed the deal. She was obviously playing hard to get. He’d just have to keep trying.

He was about to call it a night when he heard the cottage door opening back up. Alma poked her head out. “I just have one question,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Why are you doing this now? Why now after all these years?”

He didn’t dare make a move toward her. Putting his hands in the pocket of his old cargo pants, he stared up at her and said, “I don’t know. Except lately, I’ve felt 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.