The bayou was such a microcosm of life itself. Never ending. Except for the house and manicured landscape, this was the way it must have looked a thousand years ago. It would be here in pretty much the same condition a thousand years into the future. Life went on.
And that was precisely what Charmaine had decided about her own life. She had to stop thinking about Raoul and what might have been. Christmas was ten days away, a season she usually loved, but she had barely been able to put up the decorations in her shops, which was a business necessity. She hadn’t had the energy to buy a tree for her own home, whereas she usually had one up a month before the holidays. She and Tante Lulu were alike in that regard. So, Remy and Rachel had brought one over yesterday and set it up in the living room for her. Maybe tomorrow she would decorate it.
No, enough wallowing! Enough postponing! She would go inside now and begin trimming the tree till her date arrived. Yesterday she had signed the divorce papers. Today she was going out to dinner with a good friend, who might become more than that.
She’d gotten the miniature lights on the tree and had just opened a box of old ornaments when she heard a car pull up. “Come on in, Jake,” she yelled out. “I need some help getting this star on top.” The tree was seven feet tall, a short-needled blue spruce, which would touch the ceiling once the star was on. Much too big for this small room, but just right in her opinion.
“Jake who?” she heard behind her.
Charmaine jumped with surprise. It wasn’t Jake, of course. It was Raoul.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped. Nice welcome. Well, he doesn’t deserve a welcome … nice or otherwise.
He looked awful. Dark circles under his eyes. A one-or two-day-old beard on his face. His T-shirt and Wranglers were wrinkled, as if he’d taken them out of a clothes basket. He carried a dusty cowboy hat in his hands. His boots were scuffed, as if he’d just come from work on the ranch. And he’d lost weight.
Despite all that, he was bone-melting handsome… to her, anyway.
“What are you doing here?” she repeated.
He looked pointedly at her in her new red dress and high heels, at the Christmas tree, then back to her. “Come to help you decorate your tree?”
She could swear she heard the St. Jude statue in the corner say, Is that the best you can do?
Dog days of winter…
“Here. Let me put that up for you,” Raoul said, setting his hat down and taking the star out of Charmaine’s hand.
She stood there, hands on hips of a skintight red dress that reached mid-thigh, showcasing mile-long, silk-clad legs and red high heels that gave a guy ideas. Her black hair was piled atop her head in a sort of bun with little curls springing around her face. Her mouth, which was scowling at him right now, was painted a sinful crimson. “I asked you a question, Raoul. What are you doing here?”
He was done putting up the star, which he recalled buying for her their first, and only, Christmas together. It had been a cheesy Wal-Mart purchase—cheap tin covered with glitter—but it still looked good.
He turned to her and said, “Why did you sign the divorce papers?” He could tell his abrupt question surprised her.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Maybe because you still love me.” I hope.
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.” I hope.
“You sent me away. You said you didn’t want me.”
“I lied.”
She shook her head firmly, causing the curls to bounce. “That’s bull. I told you then, Rusty, that I would never be able to forgive you if you sent me away then.”
“You’re back to calling me Rusty again.”
“Like that’s important now!”
“It’s extremely important. Let’s pretend the last three weeks haven’t happened… except for our night at The Lucky Duck, of course. I wouldn’t ever want to forget that.” He smiled in hopes of softening that scowl on her face.