Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize belong to Marvel. The rest (Honor, Johnny, Solie…) belong to me. I make no profit from these stories other than my own self-satisfaction. Enjoy!
The Honor Saga
Chapter One
Valle Soleada, California
Golden sunlight poured through the dainty curtains and spilled across the bed. A single white bed sheet was crumpled and folded around two bodies: one sleeping and one awake. Rogue was content to spend the morning memorizing her partner's face. She had seen his handsome, untamed mug nearly every day for seven years, but in that life, she never knew him like this. The prison of reality felt a hundred years away, and this life felt like a dream.
He woke under the weight of her stare, and croaked: "Mornin', chere."
"Mornin', sugah."
She pressed her lips to his soft mouth, soured from sleep. He tasted like Cody, the only other boy she'd ever loved. Sometimes when she kissed Remy, she remembered the thirteen-year-old boy whose life she'd stolen. She wondered if the two men shared an identical chemistry to which she was drawn. Or maybe all men tasted the same.
Remy would know if all women tasted the same: he'd sampled an impressive collection. Rogue might've been a romantic novice, but she knew better than to bring up former lovers in bed. His stories would only upset her.
His large, calloused hands snaked around her backside and brought her closer. She gladly climbed on top and kissed his neck. When he returned the gesture, she gasped out loud and shivered. It bothered her that he never seemed as aroused as she felt.
When they first moved in together, she knew the sex would be explosive. They'd wasted the last five years flirting and dancing around foreplay. Sometimes, he only needed to exhale and she yearned for him. Four years ago, she'd given him her virginity. He had been dedicated to her, and she didn't regret it… But they had expected the world to end that night. Neither one of them knew how to deal with the fallout.
For the next few years, they dated on and off. She knew he saw other women, and it made her crazy. She let him think she slept with the few men brave enough to court her… Magneto, Joseph, Longshot… Despite her love for Remy, she enjoyed watching him suffer. It was the only way she knew he loved her.
The only feeling as strong as love is jealousy. Since true happiness was unattainable, agony became the drug of choice. She nursed every insult, broken promise and betrayal in lieu of growing trust. Twisted as it was, he played along.
After her "break-up" with Joseph, Remy broke into her room and forced himself on her. She could have easily overpowered him, but he was insane with jealousy and she wanted him like that. Afterwards, he lay beside her and apologized.
"What's wrong with us?" she asked aloud.
Forbidden and repressed love was intoxicating and exciting, but an open and acknowledged relationship was suffocating and mundane. The joy from sharing household chores was not nearly as exciting as hearing him make love to another woman. Sometimes she would sit outside the door and listen. Her co-workers would throw her apologetic glances as they passed in the hall. Even that was more exciting than knowing he'd be in her arms every morning.
How did normal people live like this?
Rogue found herself creating fights just so they could have angry sex.
Remy didn't need the drama… At least he didn't need it to crave sex. He could perform any time, and she could already feel him becoming aroused. She tried to pull away, but he held her close and smacked her bottom. She struggled, still adjusting to her normal-human strength. Over powering him was no longer a possibility. He continued to spank her, and the frustration built like water behind a dam.
"You say: 'T'ank you, sir; may I have another?'"
"Ah hate you!" She lifted her knee to strike his most vulnerable area, and he quickly moved to defend. With him distracted, she turned to flee. He grabbed her once more, and pinned her face-down against the mattress. She felt his erection enter her from behind and sighed contently. The tension melted and mounted once more.
"Need a condom, sugah," she reminded him.
"Just enjoy it," he pleaded with hot kisses along her back and shoulders. She never could deny him anything.
This position kept his thrusts shallow. Light, darting penetrations did nothing for him, but drove her into a frenzy. She shifted her hips so the movements went deeper and deeper. She felt a little embarrassed, knowing her ass was completely exposed. His warm hands lifted and separated her cheeks, allowing deeper access. She heard him spit and felt a light wetness on her exposed orifice. A thick thumb slid inside, and she gave a helpless little whimper.
He was close. He forced his mind elsewhere, but his body was already set. When he told her, he expected a demand of consideration. She deserved as good as she gave.
Instead, she raised her hips off the mattress and forced herself back on him. This strange angle required the use of all her abdominal muscles, creating a sucking sensation usually associated with the mouth. He groaned and pushed her further into the mattress.
"Ah want ya t' come inside me," she moaned.
He quickly pulled out and spilled his seed across her back. Once she realized what was happening, she sat down and took him in her mouth, groaning and swallowing his juices.
The pleasure quickly faded, and her attention became painful. He pushed her away a little rougher than he should have, and then cradled her like a precious find. After a few moments to collect his bearings, he laid her out like a blanket and returned the favor.
Remy had many faults, but none of them extended to his lovemaking. He loved her until she wept and every thought fled her mind. He was the only man she'd ever loved, and the only one who'd ever brought her pleasure like this. When they were intimate, Rogue understood the great sexual mysteries of mankind. She understood the purpose of the female orgasm, the survival of monogamy, and the desire to join genes with another.
But as a puddle of euphoric sensations, all she could convey was: "Ah love you".
.::.
June 27
This particular day, which began with the normal arguments and climaxed with the usual make-up sex, would end up shattered and lost.
Rogue's life hadn't been blessed with much in the way of normalcy. As a love-child, she lived on the poor side of the Mississippi. Her parents were gypsies, always moving from one shanty to another. Always fighting. In the earliest years of her life, her mother abandoned her. The details were hazy at best. Sometimes Rogue thought she could remember her, but her memories were unreliable.
She could recall being so miserable at home that she ran away. Eventually, she was taken in by an agenda. At the time, she was young and foolish enough to believe that group was a family. The truth revealed itself with time.
At thirteen, her mutations manifested. Most mutants were harmless… Perhaps their physical appearance was altered or they had enhanced abilities, but most couldn't cause much damage.
Again, Rogue was unusual. Her mutations caused her skin to absorb the life from another through physical contact. Fortunately, the violation was limited to direct skin contact and couldn't permeate through clothing, allowing her a degree of control. Unfortunately, the first person she touched after the manifestation died.
Her second victim worth mentioning was Ms. Marvel. Rogue drained her to the brink of death, leaving the young mutant with super-human strength and the ability to fly.
She survived as best she could, occasionally stealing the lives of others. Their memories bled into her own. She hardly knew where they ended and she began. As she took and took from others, she lost herself. In an attempt to regain her sanity, she joined the X-Men.
The team worked under Professor Xavier, who repaired Rogue's mind initially and tried to help her control her powers. As the two of them discovered some reasons for her manifestation, that project fell by the wayside. Rogue didn't need to think her way through a physical problem. Xavier couldn't accept her past trauma enough to force her mind out of the past and into her body. The two of them were more content with protecting mutant rights than examining personal issues.
She was the antithesis of all they aspired. The ragtag band of misfits worked together for a better future, all the while hating and loving each other as a family. The only family most of them had. That's how she met Remy.
"Gambit" was his cover name. Oh, he was dangerous and untrustworthy and a lover of women… But he was also exciting and mysterious and romantic.
While she struggled with her sanity and identity, poor Remy played the role of punching bag. Rogue and Xavier both punished him for pushing her into a romantic relationship. He didn't think her life-stealing powers or past abuses where any reason to accept celibacy. For all his patience and insistence, her condition never improved.
But then: a break. An accident in the spring left them both powerless, and able to pursue a normal relationship.
The journey brought them to an isolated beach house in Valle Soleada. The tiny "town" had a school, fire department, post office, grocery store, mechanic shop, and a dozen houses spread miles apart. The only cop came courtesy of the next town, sleeping in his car at the only intersection. Rogue thought it could be the perfect place to conduct some criminal activity… But the citizens were too intimate with each other.
The community buzzed with excitement at Rogue and Remy's arrival. Nosy old women asked how they met, how long they planned to stay, and when they would have children. Honestly, not much else to do in this town besides make babies.
She'd never put much thought into the issue of children. Never thought it could be a possibility. But now that it was… Did she even want to be a mother? By Mississippi standards, her biological clock was ticking. But was Remy father material? Despite his vague dreams of retiring and raising a family, she didn't think he was prepared for that.
He certainly didn't enjoy his "retirement" as much as he'd hoped.
Well, none of those issues were pressing on the twenty-seventh. That particular day, the power had gone out and the house became a torture chamber. She sat outside under a palm tree, trying to cool off while Remy fought with the breaker box. Mutant powers or non, he still did a fine job of blowing things up.
A noise pulled her attention to the dirt road leading to their little house. A pick-up truck approached, billowing dirt clouds behind it. It was still small on the horizon, but her heart went cold. They had no reason for visitors.
Had an enemy located them? Had something happened to one of the X-Men? She had a terrible premonition.
In the mint-green and white Ford pickup sat the unlikeliest of pairs. The driver was Johnny Sanchez, and he was very proud to call this beauty his. Growing up in the poor majority of Mexico, he'd always dreamed of lovely old cars, wonderful blues music, wealthy white women, and making it all his. His dream had come true, and now he had new hopes. He wanted to make a fortune on his talent, which happened to be music.
He was a rock-star living a normal man's life. He had the fancy clothes, the silky hair, the car, the talent… But he missed his big break. Instead of touring with his band this year, he ended up traveling with his goddaughter.
Eleven-year-old Honor sat beside him, roasting in the heat. The downside to lovely old cars was that they lacked modern conveniences, but she didn't complain. She never complained. Strawberry-blonde hair fought in the wind and stuck to her damp forehead. She'd be a lot cooler if she would've dressed in sandals and skirts like other girls, but she made a point to be different.
Poor thing had been an outcast all her life. Finally, she embraced it. She dressed in combat boots and pants, even during the relentless Southern summers. On Sundays, she'd wear a dress over the standard attire, which expanded this summer to include enormous sunglasses. She completely rejected the fads of her age: the music, the movies, the celebrities. Her only friends were in the books she read. She wasn't antisocial. She just knew people would reject her and beat them to the punch.
Far too young to be so jaded.
Why didn't anyone like her? For starters, she was a mutant. Some could pass as normal, but Honor had physical signs. Her eyes were black instead of white with red irises. When she got angry, her irises glowed. This led some of the more ignorant citizens to accuse her of witchcraft. Of course, Johnny knew she was an innocent child, but her strange personality didn't make her easy to defend. He'd seen her do things no adult could do.
She could solve any riddle, calm the craziest hobo, and occasionally, she said the most random things that became real at her words.
It was possible these strange traits were other mutations… She might've possessed the ability to fly or turn into a rain cloud or something, but those traits hadn't surfaced yet. Johnny read that unique mutations developed at puberty. Her body was certainly blossoming, and frankly, he was more concerned about boys.
For the time being, she found boys repulsive. While other girls her age were obsessed with catching a "boyfriend" and fawning over baby-faced stars, Honor was preoccupied with reading and composing music. She seemed to have a different song for every star. Like many artists, she was prone to mood swings and neurotic.
This was yet another reason she had no friends…
But the real reason for her isolation was her parents. Her mother, a barmaid and common criminal, was just a child herself when her daughter was born. She'd put the girl's life in danger more than once. Sometimes Johnny wanted to strangle her, but Belle and her girl wormed into his heart. He stepped into the role of father.
The real father skipped town without ever knowing Belle was pregnant. Some years later, she came into contact with him, but kept the child secret. In the beginning, she didn't tell him because she couldn't find him. Later, she was protecting her child. After he rejected her again, she kept her secret out of spite. But as Honor grew, she started asking questions. Belle would lie, often contradicting herself, and then she kept the secret out of shame.
Johnny urged her to confess. The longer she waited, the worse the situation would be. A child forgives much more quickly than an adult.
She told Johnny the truth…
At eighteen, Belle had been pressured to marry her sweetheart because they were having sex. There was also a political implication that Johnny didn't quite understand. He was vaguely aware that her criminal activities were organized and supported by family, but he purposely remained ignorant. He saw himself as Honor's guardian, and that was his only role in Belle's life. But whether he acknowledged it or not, Honor had indeed been effected by this mafia.
Belle's marriage was controversial. Her brother hated this man, and tried to kill him. Poor, stupid Julien lost his pride and his life; and Belle lost a husband and brother. Seven months later, a premature daughter was born. Belle blamed herself. In her mind, she'd ruined the lives of three people that she cared for deeply.
"You were just a kid, Belle," Johnny had told her. "Honor will understand. She just wants the truth. She deserves to know."
But Belle never made amends, and now that opportunity was lost forever. She died, leaving Honor at the mercy of her greedy relatives and an even more corrupt legal system. Johnny hired a lawyer and fought for the right to locate the biological father.
Remy LeBeau was a difficult man to track. In the last twelve years, he'd left nothing of a paper trail. The most Johnny had to go on was rumors. This man must've had a lot of friends… or a lot of enemies. Johnny's Ford had been all over the country – Baton Rouge, Key West, Seattle, New York, Alaska, and now California. It seemed like they were always one step behind him.
Honor was his biggest help. Like a bloodhound, she possessed otherworldly hunting skills. New York was the closest they'd come to catching him. After an exhaustive interview, a woman named Jean Grey said Remy had been employed at Xavier's school, but was now out of the country. Johnny didn't entirely trust her, but wasn't completely honest about his intentions either. He left a number and a plea to relay the message.
Remy never called.
Two days ago, Honor said he was in California. They loaded back into the truck and across the desert.
Now, as they approached the isolated house, Johnny felt his stomach sink. Two anxious people stood on the porch – a man and a woman, but at this point, they were just silhouettes. A large cloud moved over the sun, casting darkness and a chill.
"No worries, Johnny," Honor said, "He's still here."
Oh, but the worries had just begun…
…
He'd hoped the words would come to him. Hoped he would magically know how to tell this stranger what his own wife couldn't. But the variables were too many.
Johnny and Honor smiled at each other before climbing out of the truck, well aware of the eyes on them. She stayed beside the truck, nonchalantly surveying the house. Johnny approached the couple.
"Olha. Johnny Sanchez. Are you Remy LeBeau?"
Belle was right… Johnny could see now that this man had Honor's eyes. He was tall and muscular with shaggy cinnamon hair and a five o'clock shadow. He gave a dangerous vibe, but Johnny remembered how frightful Belle could be. The worst in her came out when she felt threatened. No doubt, Remy was the same way. Johnny didn't trust this man, but he did trust Honor. She seemed to love him as much as she loved her mother, and for Johnny, that was enough.
"Oui." Remy answered, "Don't believe you drive all de way from New York wit' out knowin' dat."
"I see Señora Grey was kind enough to relay the message. Afraid I couldn't divulge the details with her – this business is of a sensitive nature. Would you be so kind as to offer us a drink? It's been a long journey and I couldn't find a restaurant for my goddaughter. Miss Honor." He held a hand out to her by way of introduction. She smiled broadly and waved at them.
"That's 'cause there ain't one," the woman said. She was younger than Remy, curvy and tall. Her chin-length chestnut hair had a bleach white streak at the temple, and she had a sweet Tanya Tucker-like accent. She used her green eyes to observe the child for a moment, and then invited them inside.
The guests nervously took a seat while the hosts stood around them.
"Sorry it's so hot in here," the woman said, pouring them iceless water. "Power's gone out."
Honor gulped her water down, sighed contently and asked for a refill. Upon hearing her voice, Remy and his companion stiffened. Did they know?
Johnny cleared his throat. "Señor LeBeau, I regret to inform you that your ex-wife, Bella Donna Boudreaux has passed away. Were you aware?"
"Dere been… rumors."
"She was gunned down eight months ago. As far as the authorities can tell, the incident was gang related. I'm very sorry to tell you this." He tried to sound sympathetic. This prick didn't even realize she was dead. She was no loss to him. "I've been appointed to carry out her Last Will and Testament."
He opened the leather portfolio he'd been carrying for nearly a year now and handed over the proper paperwork. A copy of Belle's Will, her death certificate, and paperwork detailing his inheritance. Remy reviewed the papers, each one like a hit to the gut.
"She bequeathed to you a small fortune, some property, and… your mutual daughter."
No one looked at Johnny anymore.
No one dared to breathe.
Slowly, Honor removed her sunglasses and looked the man in the eye. All her life, she'd been dreaming of this man. She'd spent the last year digging deep within her soul: calling out to his and following its echo. She imagined what he looked like, but meeting him was like watching herself bleed. Shocking. Scary.
He dropped to one knee before her. Now they were eye-level.
"What's your name?" he asked breathlessly.
"Honor." She looked nervously at Johnny, then back to her father. "Honor Julien LeBeau.
"I'm Remy LeBeau. Very pleased to meet you."
She smiled at him. That smile – even more than the eyes – confirmed her paternity. The shadow of doubt in Rogue's mind died along with something less describable.
…
Johnny spent the rest of the day in Valle Soleada. He was kind enough to get the power back, and Honor pressed her flushed face against the air vent. The two of them talked a lot about Belle and their life in New Orleans. Much of the details were old news to Remy, but he'd buffered himself from feeling too much for the people who'd rejected him.
Julien's death… Marius's death… Belle's hopes and struggles, victories and losses… He felt these things anew. Now it meant so much more. It was the loss of an uncle, grandfather, and the mother of his child.
Remy told them about the X-Men and Rogue. Like her father, Honor was a sucker for romance. She propped her chin on her palms and listened without blinking while he told a child-friendly version of his affair with Rogue.
"De first time I saw her, time slowed to a crawl. The sun was shining behind her, and she looked like an angel. Dat's what love at first sight feels like, chere. Took a lot longer for her to fall in love wit' me."
"Ah thought he was a bull-headed swamp rat who needed to keep his grubby paws to himself," said Rogue.
Honor covered her mouth and giggled.
"Don't hide your smile, sugah. You're so pretty when you smile." She hugged the girl from behind and the two of them smiled at each other. It was a shamelessly sweet moment.
Remy had never seen Rogue initiate physical contact as a bonding tool. Touch was a weapon for her. Many times, she flinched when anyone touched her. He didn't know this yet, but Honor didn't like to be touched, either. Yet she and Rogue were very comfortable with each other.
"When did you fall in love wit' Remy?" asked Honor.
"Well… pains me to admit this, but it wasn't long after we met. Group of us were playing basketball at Xavier's school. Oh, he was all hair and eyes and big arms, and Ah knew Ah was in trouble. Rumor had it he'd taken a shine t' me, but he's a bit of a flirt. Ah was determined not be another notch in his belt."
"De ladies can't resist me, catin. Try as she did, she fell for my charms, too. Our first date, I was so nervous - like some squeaky voiced punk who'd never seen a beautiful lady before. Blew it big time, but she agreed to another."
"And another."
"And the fact that you couldn't touch her-" Johnny injected, "No hay problema?"
"What can I say, mon ami? I live in de danger zone."
The four of them conversed until early morning. Honor listened politely, asking further details about Storm and Logan and the rest of the X-Men. She was less interested in Xavier and his story. At first, she refused to believe a school just for mutants even existed.
"It's true, catin," he insisted, "Dey teach science and history, wit' mutations and flyin' control."
"Before today, I'd never even seen another mutant before… And you're telling me dere's a school full of dem?"
"Oui."
Her chin trembled and she burst into tears.
…
Honor speaks
Even though I was only a child, I was very much aware of how my presence had affected the mood in Valle Soleada. The initial tension faded into repressed rage, regret, shame and sorrow. Adults are a strange and stupid lot. They waste so much energy trying to hide what they think and feel because they worry so much what everyone else thinks and feels. If only they could be honest, they'd discover that they all thought the same things…
What did I think? Honestly, I was beginning to doubt my decision. Now that I'd found my father, all I wanted was to go home. I wanted my mother and the bar and the familiar sights and sounds. I didn't want this new life that closed on me like a trap.
I wished Momma was still alive… or that I'd died with her. Or that Johnny had adopted me. Or that I was older, and wouldn't need a parent. I wanted to curl up and die.
The sun set and Rogue again invited Johnny to stay the night. It had been a long day, she said. I knew what she wanted to say – we need your help. Johnny accepted, and insisted on taking the couch. There was an extra room that I could've shared with him, but he wanted to create the illusion of distance before truly leaving me. Hence, I got the extra room to myself.
I hated it! I hated the smell and look of this tiny old house; hated the narrow hall and high windows; hated the carpet and ceiling fans.
While pretending to change for bed, I crept out the window. The beach was so dark and cold at night. I climbed into the bed of Johnny's truck and sought out my favorite summer constellations. Winter was my favorite time to star-gaze, but I greeted these stars like new friends.
No moon tonight. So dark and cold and empty. The sand reached on forever, tempting me to explore its limits. The night sky encompassed me like a mother's embrace. I could feel the fish and sharks and turtles begin to wake. They sang to me.
The life pulse here was a different pattern than I was accustomed. A noisy, relentless ocean replaced the delicate river. Sand killed most of the grass. The trees were rail-thin and showy and isolated.
Trees are like people, I decided. In New Orleans, people wear their history like Spanish moss. They herd together, and don't care how fat or droopy anyone is. Southern trees are homes to birds and bees and squirrels. Children play in their branches and crave initials into their trunks. These Californian trees had no soul.
"Momma," I whispered, grabbing the tiny gold cross at my chest. The love of twelve generations insistently filled my heart. I could almost touch the dearly departed. "Momma, I'm so alone… Please… Please don't leave me. Please give me a sign."
I held my breath and strained with all my senses. Since Momma's passing, I'd said this prayer countless times. Sometimes I even received an answer…Whenever I was alone, I felt her presence. Momma was like a ghost haunting my thoughts. I felt a little guilty for keeping my mother's spirit from crossing over, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't let go.
The front door opened, briefly spreading a block of light across the yard. Remy closed it behind him and lit a cigarette.
I thought maybe he had followed me, but he was surprised to see me. He'd startled me nearly to death!
"Shouldn't go wanderin' off, petite," he said, "Even out here, trouble has a way a' findin' you."
He sat beside me so that the smoke blew down wind.
"My cousin and I use to sneak away at nighttime, too. Sometimes we go swimmin' or fishin' in da bayou. He died about your age... Your momma ever tell you that's where we met? Non? Well, it was a long time ago."
I kept quiet. This was the first time I'd been alone with this man.
My father.
A stranger, really.
"Everyone got a lot to say," he said after a drag. His eyes were downcast and dark. "Johnny been tellin' me what he wants… and what your momma wanted… 'Course Rogue's gotta have her say, too. You don't say much. What do you want?"
I hugged my knees. "I want my mother."
He opened his mouth to reply, but I continued: "I wish she would've told me de truth 'bout you. I know why she didn't. It was embarrassin', really. She thought she could pretend you away and I wouldn't notice. But I did. Even before I could talk, I remember wonderin' why you weren't around."
It was difficult to find the right words. How could I possibly describe a lifetime of longing? As a child, I had attempted to explain the loss of something I'd never owned. No one understood. They thought I was crazy at best and whinny at worst. Anticipating Remy's rejection, frustration billowed inside me.
A sudden urge to run filled my legs. I slid to the tail gate.
"Honor, please don' run away."
I didn't want to, but I obeyed. Then I burst like a dam: "I use to have dese awful nightmares! Dere was a madman who wanted to hurt me, and dere was no one to protect me! He made me do terrible things, and I was so scared! No one understands what de dreams meant, but I knew! It was you, wasn't it?
"Ain't slept in years now. When I was supposed to be sleepin', I'd sneak out de house. Momma said I must've had a restless old soul, but truth is: I was lookin' for you."
He pulled me into a painful embrace. He smelled like cigarettes and salt and… momma?
"I'm sorry, catin. Dis ain't what I wanted."
"Alright, Sally!" I struggled against him, "Don't get your mascara on me!"
He smiled at me. His tears had indeed soaked my hair.
"You deserve better. Your momma and I… we're broken. You should've had a clean start, but we broke you, too."
"Ain't been a bad life."
"No, but you deserved better. Can't make up for dat now, but I'd like you to stay here wit' me and Rogue. I know what it's like to be incomplete. You and me, I t'ink we need each other."
"I t'ink so, too."
…
Johnny found himself lingering in Valle Soleada for several weeks. There were no rules to guide his behavior and plenty of reasons to stay. Every day he watched Honor bond with this man a little more. Remy explained the missing pieces of her personality. He had given her a love of card games, her stubborn streak, and her strange sense of humor.
Of course, she had bits of Bella, too. Remy told her that the way she covered her mouth, her shy laugh, and her ability to perceive people were all her mother's traits. Johnny had peace knowing this man would honor her memory.
After the house had gone to sleep, he could hear Remy and Rogue whispering late into the night. Johnny would lie awake and wonder what had become of his life. He felt like stranger in his own skin. This wasn't his life. He'd known he could never keep Honor. No matter how much he loved her or how attached she became, he could never replace her parents. She had always belonged to this other man. This was the father she'd always wanted.
However, leaving her was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He compared it to sky diving, which – until now – was the most difficult step he'd ever taken. He knew the moment would come. Knew he could do it. But every time he tried to move, he froze.
…
The hottest day of summer ended with a humid night. Rogue made frozen lemonade, and the four of them sat on the porch listening to Johnny play guitar. Unlike good Southern porches, this one only encompassed the front end. It was covered by the roof and sported wind chimes and rails. There was a single rocking chair, but on this particular night, Remy drug out the couch and recliner so they could all sit comfortably.
Somewhere in the distance, the ocean surf provided a soft melody. Remy and Rogue were curled together on the love seat, randomly kissing the other's shoulder, hand or forehead. Honor laid stomach-down on the floor reading a well-worn copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Johnny sat on the rail, his back against a column and his feet on the rocking chair while he played. As an entertainer, he knew how to set or change the mood.
Tonight, he played the blues because it reminded them of home.
Johnny's notes reached as far as the porch light. They seemed to have the whole world to themselves. This world, bordered by moonlight and sand, was perfect.
Honor was the only one who spoke between songs. "Dat was de first song I ever heard him play. You remember, Johnny? It was at de Red-Headed Stepchild… Dat's Momma's bar. Gris-Gris had just died, and Momma didn't have anyone else to watch me."
"I'd been working there for a year and didn't even know Belle had a kid! That was Belle, though. An hour late, she walks in with this quiet little rug rat. That was it for me, mis amigos. My whole life changed."
"Everyone else was unnerved on account of my eyes. You can tell a lot about people by the way dey look at someone who looks different. Some people stared at me; some people couldn't look at me at all. Johnny wasn't shy 'bout askin' 'bout my eyes. Momma said: 'It's 'cause she's a mutant. Dat a problem?' and Johnny said: 'She can see all right, can't she?' Momma looked like she'd been sucker-punched. I think it really touched her dat he could be so… kind. But dat's Johnny!"
His throat constricted. "This is the Dead Song. We call it that because… Well, I'd had this melody stuck in my head for a year and a half. Kept playing it and playing it, but the words were just out of reach.
"One night after the bar closed, Belle was cleaning and I was playing this song trying to get the words. Finally, she threw down her rag and said: 'Jesu, Johnny! It's just a song! Words go like dis!' Sat down beside me, and fifteen minutes later, she worked out the words I couldn't find in a fifteen months! We played it for Honor, she was just five or six at the time, and she balled her little red eyes out. Wouldn't tell us why. I haven't played it since, so bare with me."
We never talked about it,
But I hear the blame was mine. There seemed no way to make up, Through all of my life, There are things we won't recall,
I'd call you up to say I'm sorry,
But I wouldn't want to waste your time.
'Cause I love you, but I can't take anymore.
There's a look I can't describe in your eyes.
If we could try like we tried before,
Would you keep on telling me those lies?
'Cause it seemed your mind was set.
And the way you looked it told me,
It's a look I know I'll never forget.
You could've come over to my side,
You could've let me know.
You could've tried to see the distance between us,
But it seemed too far for you to go.
Do you remember?
In spite of all the pain
You know that people are funny sometimes,
'Cause they just can't wait to get hurt again.
Tell me do you remember?
And feelings we'll never find.
It's taken so long to see it,
'Cause we never seemed to have the time.
There was always something more important to do,
More important to say.
But "I love you" wasn't one of those things,
And now it's too late.
Do you remember?
The terribly sad song ended, and no one spoke. Johnny gripped his guitar by the neck so that even the wind couldn't strike a chord. He briskly crossed the porch and shook hands with his hosts.
"Gracias, señorita, for your incredible hospitality. For your kindness and charity, I am forever in your debt."
Honor leapt to her feet. "You're leavin'?"
"It's time."
"But it's so late," said Rogue.
"I'll miss the sun and traffic by leaving at night. I packed this afternoon."
Remy and Honor helped Johnny carry his bags to the truck. He placed his guitar in the seat where Honor had been sitting all summer. She'd been at his heels like a lost puppy all night, resisting the urge to throw her arms around him and beg him not to leave.
Finally, gathering his strength, he turned to her.
"Remember what we talked about, Honorita. If you're unhappy here – for any reason – you call me. None of this has to be permanent. Yo comprendo? Once you're settled, write your Grandmother Boudreaux and she'll send the rest of your things."
She nodded, her chin trembling.
"Ame tu, Rita."
She swallowed. "Mind de gators, hear? You know how dey love beans."
"Oh, mi corazón, I won't be returning to the bayou."
How could he? The girls would be everywhere and nowhere. How could he perform at the Red-Headed Stepchild without making eyes at the blond behind the counter? He couldn't go home without passing the playgrounds Honor haunted. What would he do with his Saturday mornings without her cartoons? What would he do in the afternoons besides retrieve her from school? What would he do without the book fairs and recitals and Sunday confessionals?
"But Johnny! Nawlins is your home!"
"No. Usted es mi casa."
"Idem." She hugged his neck. He smelled her sweet hair and felt her hot tears on his collar. "Where will you go?"
"It's been a long time since I've been this close to Mexico, and I've been thinking a lot about mi madre lately. I'll visit her."
She nodded and reluctantly released him. "Ame tu, Johnny."
Honor watched his truck disappear into the dusty horizon. She stood there until her knees hurt. Beyond her reach, Johnny was sobbing in his truck. He would spend the night drinking and sleep in a cheap hotel. She thought about her mother: alone and cold in New Orleans. Everything she'd ever known had been burned and scattered to the wind.
.
To Be Continued…