Chapter 7
Chantelle and May Alice had, for obvious reasons, not heard from Rennie since Halloween night. They feared that meant that Acadia was not better, but they also hoped that if that were the case, the Boudreauxs would be tending to the girl. In the meantime, they prepared the house for their visitor from New York. Chantelle was no hick, she was raised in privilege much like May Alice was, but in Chicago; nevertheless, New York theater was a big deal, even in Chi-town, and Chantelle was as curious about this producer-not-producer, Austin Wyatt, as she was about May Alice's play. May Alice had refused to let Chantelle read it until just the night prior to Wyatt's arrival. She'd assumed, after May Alice's brief description of it, that she'd need to have been a theater person, or a celebrity of some kind to really appreciate it; that was far from the right assumption. Chantelle had not read a play before, and she was intrigued by the set-up of it all, the dialogue, written right along with the stage direction, was something she'd not been exposed to before. She fell right in step with it, and upon completing her first reading, she was truly impressed by the poignant story. She, again, found herself trying to reconcile the May Alice Culhane she'd known these past four months and the mind behind this remarkable thing she'd just read.
"This is how good your writing was? Why did you abandon it?" Chantelle said, incredulously, still holding a copy of the manuscript in her hand.
"Oh, God no, Chantelle, I -" she started to laugh, then stopped, as the words sunk in, "wait, do you really like it?" May Alice was not fishing for a compliment. She'd come to appreciate Chantelle's opinions, she was smart, and tough, and she liked that Chantelle was not a theater person, nor a play person, nor a New York City person. She was truly the audience her play would need to appeal to if it were to go anywhere.
"Well, I am not an expert, but yeah – it's funny, and it's heartfelt and the ending is so," she was looking for the word.
"Ridiculous?" May Alice worried.
"No, no. It's . . . hopeful. That's so unlike you." Chantelle had said that last bit before realizing it might not sound so flattering. She was waiting for May Alice's reaction, which was only a nod of agreement.
"It is not like me," she agreed thoughtfully, "It's like . . . my mother." That was a revelation to May Alice. Never had she believed anything of her mother was inside her. But now, she was rethinking that, and it made her happy.
The phone rang in the Culhane house at 9:30 a.m. Thursday morning. May Alice was still putting on her makeup, preparing for the arrival of Austin Wyatt later that day; she hoped the call was not him cancelling. She was encouraged about her work following Chantelle's review of the play, and she would be disappointed if Wyatt suddenly came to his senses and gave up already.
Chantelle appeared in the door of May Alice's bathroom. "Acadia's been in the hospital since Sunday. Rennie's been with her; Arlene refuses to go see her."
"So, that was Rennie?" Chantelle nodded.
"He asked if we could come by. I told him that you were expecting a visitor from out of town today and he said he understands, but he sounds exhausted."
"You should go, Chantelle. You can help me set up and then go. I'll be fine." She sounded genuine, and Chantelle really was worried about Rennie, but didn't want to alarm May Alice on this important day.
By 10:30 Chantelle had departed for the hospital, assuring May Alice she would check in with her as soon as she could. May Alice was relieved that she hadn't had time to worry about much in that hour between Rennie's phone call and Chantelle's departure, as they'd busied themselves with getting everything in order for Chantelle's absence.
Chantelle found Acadia's hospital room and was struck by the irony that Rennie almost looked more like the patient than the girl did. He looked terrible; face unshaved, clothes that were, clearly, days-worn, and deep circles plagued his eyes. Acadia looked, about, like she had the first day Chantelle had seen her weeks before. She surmised that the girl had been sick the entire time, and she shuddered to think what condition she must have been when they admitted her if this is how she appeared after four days of treatment.
Rennie welcomed Chantelle and brought her up to date on all that had happened. Although he'd been there non-stop and was clearly tired, he'd absorbed all the pertinent information about Acadia's condition, and Chantelle was impressed he could repeat it all to her. After a couple hours, Rennie asked her if she needed to get back to May Alice. When she assured him May Alice was covered, she began eo encourage him to leave the hospital for a while to get some rest. Acadia had gone to sleep, and the doctors had given her a good prognosis. The sepsis was about under control, they figured three more days of the IV antibiotics, and dialysis, would reveal that all she'd experienced was an untreated infection and not anything worse. During the time spent together that day, Rennie divulged how things had gone at home and that, basically, he had nowhere to go. Chantelle was outraged but didn't let it show. It was not her business, she reminded herself. She suggested Rennie try the local YMCA to shower and sleep. She reassured him the girl was in good hands, and that he couldn't do himself much good with Arlene if he were exhausted. He knew he'd have to face her soon and find a way to get back into his home. He relented, and as they walked out of the hospital together, Chantelle asked him to call her if he needed anything at all. He agreed and they went their separate ways.
By the time Chantelle arrived back at the house, Wyatt had come and gone. She was dying to know how the visit went and was disappointed to have missed meeting the man. She was surprised to know May Alice was more interested in Rennie and Acadia than she was about disclosing the results of Wyatt's visit. Maybe it went badly, Chantelle thought. She filled May Alice in on all that had happened with the girl and how her own mother was refusing to go see her. They were polite when discussing Arlene's reaction but were taken aback, nonetheless.
Once May Alice was convinced everything with Rennie was under control, for the time being, she told Chantelle, very matter-of-factly, that Wyatt and Lisa wanted to produce her play. Chantelle was not sure she heard correctly because of the tone of voice, coupled with the stoic look on May Alice's face, – but, as quickly, she knew she had heard right, because May Alice's face turned to a huge grin and she shrieked, "Can you believe it?!"
Chantelle swatted the woman on the arm and then laughed, and exclaimed, right along with May Alice, "Oh my God!" She found herself actually jumping up and down, and clapping at the news. She was truly happy for May Alice. Finally, something was going her way. "Oh! I have something for you," Chantelle suddenly remembered. "I'll be right back." When she returned, she had two champagne glasses, and she popped open a bottle she'd bought the weekend prior. May Alice's eyes widened until Chantelle said, "Don't get too excited, it's sparkling cider." She handed a filled glass to May Alice, filled one for herself, held it up, then back down to clink May Alice's glass, and said simply, but sincerely, "Well done, May Alice."
"How did you know?" May Alice asked.
"I didn't. If he'd said he didn't want it, I'd have toasted to wishing him a life surrounded by women like Ti-Marie and Precious," she winked.
May Alice was touched. So much for being a big-time writer, she thought, because she couldn't think of one apt thing to say to Chantelle right then. Nothing seemed genuine enough. Finally, after taking a sip of the bittersweet liquid, she settled for a quiet, "Thank you, Chantelle."
"You're welcome," her friend replied.
The evening prior, on his way to check in at the Y, Rennie had stopped at Woolworths and grabbed some fresh clothing. Then he'd eaten a little, showered, and shaved with amenities provided at the Y, and fell promptly asleep. When he awoke the next morning, it was 9:30 a.m. and he realized, he'd slept for ten hours. He dressed, and left for the hospital.
Upon his arrival, he noticed several police cruisers near the main entrance. As he approached the doors, a uniformed officer approached him and asked for identification. As the officer looked at Rennie's license, he radioed to someone that the father had arrived. He then asked Rennie to follow him inside, into the lobby. What he learned in the next minutes, by that officer, and a lieutenant Maris, who came from the elevator inside the hospital, was that Acadia had been taken from the hospital in the early morning hours that day. The fact that Rennie arrived there was confirmation he'd not likely been the party responsible for her removal, a fact the police surmised based on the hospital staff's description of him and his concern for the girl the days prior. They asked him if it was possible his wife had taken the girl. They explained they had descended upon his home an hour before and found it abandoned. They were demanding to know so many things, but all Rennie could process was that Acadia was gone.
Once he was able to think clearly again, he began answering the questions. Yes, it was possible his wife's people had removed the girl. The hospital actually had some surveillance cameras showing the removal of the child around 3:20 a.m., but the figures carrying her were all shrouded by clothing covering most identifiable features. All they had gleaned, so far, was that there had been five people, all with heads covered, so, even gender was not specific. In a perverse effort to calm Rennie, Maris explained that kidnappings for ransom, or abuse, usually only involved one, or two people, but this one had all the earmarks of a familial abduction. Rennie was certain it was, also, but was deeply disturbed to think someone could have stolen his child in order to abuse her. It never dawned on him that, in fact, someone did exactly that; Acadia was being abused, in the form of neglect.
Rennie disclosed that Arlene's extended family, and the seat of the congregation they all belonged to, was in Baton Rouge, and he believed she'd be there and that the other children would be with her. The lieutenant assured him they would be descending on the area soon, with Baton Rouge police and sheriff's assistance, and he added that the FBI had been alerted, but since the abduction likely did not involve crossing state lines, they would not be actively involved just then. Finally, he said, "Mr. Boudreaux, we fully expect to find the girl, and have her returned shortly." Rennie, however, was not so sure. In the days he'd spent alone at the hospital with the her, he about concluded that the version of Arlene he knew and had loved, had been a myth. Complete strangers could have abducted Acadia, it would have felt the same to him. Maris instructed Rennie he should go home and wait for word from, either his family, or the authorities. He was numb. He had the urge to sneak up to Acadia's room and see for himself, but he knew, neither the hospital, nor, the police would likely allow it. He sat, motionless in the lobby where the police had briefed him, simply unable to move.
A nurse, who had been one of Acadia's attendees, was exiting the hospital after having been interviewed by the police in the hours since the girl's abduction. She stopped, and approached the worried man, and introduced herself. He remembered her. She said how sorry they all were that Acadia had been taken, and he thanked her. Then, as she started to leave again, Rennie asked her, "What will happen to her?" The nurse was uneasy. She didn't want to add to the man's misery, but the truth was, the longer Acadia went without the antibiotics and IV, the more likely the infection would return. She wanted to say that kids are amazing, and resilient, and she'd probably be fine; instead, she told him his daughter may have had enough treatment to carry her through this.
"We'll be praying for her," she assured him.
About mid-day, the local news stations had all picked up the abduction story and descended on Rennie's house. He managed to pack some clothes, and push past the few news people, without comment. He figured he'd go back to the Y but found himself, instead, in May Alice's driveway.
"Rennie's here," Chantelle announced.
"Maybe that's a good sign, if he's able to leave Acadia, some?" May Alice said, having no idea what the day had brought.
They were saddened to learn about the awful events of the morning. The women insisted he stay with them, in one of the spare rooms on the second floor. The press would not know he would be there, obviously, no ransom for the children would be demanded, and he could let the police know where to find him. He decided he needed to be with people he knew, and who thought the way he did about Acadia's treatment. Those were the people in, and around, Lafayette and, so, he agreed to stay. What no one imagined was that his stay would last several days. Not Maris, the police, nor sheriffs in Baton Rouge, had any luck locating the missing girl, her mother or her siblings. Chantelle knew, like the other nurse did, that if the girl was not being treated, and the infection returned, the sepsis would, again, wreak havoc on all her organs. Kidney damage could quickly follow, and maybe even. . . Chantelle would not let herself finish that last thought.
On the morning of the fourth day of his stay, and still no real word on the missing Boudreauxs, Rennie announced he'd decided to go down to New Iberia to bid on a fence job. He said he'd be sure to contact the women throughout the day in case there was any word. May Alice's heart was breaking for her friend. In those four days, all she could do was sit with him, and listen to whatever thoughts he cared to share with her. She'd never seen Rennie so sad, and she didn't know what to say to him, or how to help him. She had mixed feelings about his leaving town that day, but Chantelle assured her that it was a way for him to cope. Then, she reminded May Alice that she owed Lisa Teller and Austin Wyatt a phone call. They'd both called in the past couple days and May Alice had not yet spoken with either. She had been so busy trying to reassure Rennie, she'd forgotten about her own priorities.
With Rennie scheduled to be gone for a good part of the day, May Alice returned the calls. She explained to the pair the reason for her delay in responding. Neither of the urbanites could understand what kind of people would deny their children medical treatment, and both asked what her friend would do once the girl was returned. That was food for thought, as May Alice never considered the aftermath of Rennie's ordeal.
Lisa and Austin moved on to explain they'd been trying to contact May Alice to discuss a temporary optioning of the play. Wyatt believed that he could produce a skeleton version of her play that would give bigger production companies a chance to see the potential of the satire. It was not an unusual arrangement for plays that were not musicals, and May Alice was pleased Wyatt would be willing to front that version. The legalities, of course, needed to be worked quickly so that logistics could ensue, he explained. Then, the trio moved on to timing. Austin was already looking at a small theater in Manhattan that would be available in February. That meant they'd need to start casting in January. They needed some idea about the amenities May Alice would require while in New York, and could she be there late January, through, at least, the end of March? May Alice was stunned to realize this was actually going to happen. She had no answers for the pair. She was quickly becoming overwhelmed. She'd forgotten the pace of things in New York, so radically different from life on the bayou. She needed to get with the program, so, she did what she was best at; she began acting like she had it all under control.
"FedEx me the contract for the option; I have a local attorney lined up to read it whenever you're ready," she lied. "Once we've completed that, I'll get back to you with a list of the amenities, and I can't imagine our being there through March is any issue, if your schedule sticks," she said, with faked confidence. At the conclusion of the extended phone call, May Alice took a deep breath to clear her mind, and figure out how to deliver on what she'd just fudged her way through.
Rennie returned from New Iberia around 4:00 p.m. that day. He asked, already knowing the answer, of news about Acadia. The women confirmed, none of the authorities had called the Culhane number that day. Rennie was quieter than usual, if that were possible. He ate very little at supper but commented that the food was really good. Chantelle pointed out that, at least, the local news had already seemed to have moved beyond the story; she'd seen nothing, that day, on the station. He managed a small smile at that, and again, May Alice felt her heart breaking for the poor man.
She tried to take his mind off Acadia for a moment. "How does the fence job look?"
He smiled at her attempt, and detailed what was involved, appreciative of the distraction she was trying to provide him, and grateful for conversation that did not center on his missing children. Truth was, Rennie always liked talking with May Alice, no matter what the subject; he liked her voice and the thoughtful way she spoke. He had grown quickly to learn her moods and was never put off by them. If she were having a particularly bad day, he would simply acknowledge the change in her, and try to let her be. He understood the nature of wounded animals and their need for space, for healing. He reasoned she was not so different in that regard. Nevertheless, more often than he should, and especially in the four days past, he felt himself wanting to hold that wounded woman, if just to let her know it would be all right. He genuinely knew May Alice would be all right, too; he'd known her parents. He knew they were made of the right stuff, as they say, so, there was no question in his mind that May Alice was also. Even though he didn't see the confidence in her, that her parents seemed to exude. He wished that were different. He also wondered if she ever dreamt about him the way he sometimes did about her. Had she known all he was thinking in those few moments, she'd have known her distraction was working.
Later that evening, Rennie announced he'd like to turn in early, and did just that. The time allowed May Alice to approach Chantelle about the idea of her going to New York. That discussion was paramount to the rest of the issues up for consideration. If she said no, May Alice could get another nurse, but she truly dreaded that thought. She was comfortable and confident with Chantelle, feelings that New York, would not afford her this time. Returning would be the hardest thing she could imagine. People she knew, and her fans all gawking, or worse, pitying her? She couldn't stand that thought. Then, there would be the special accommodations, worrying about eating on her schedule, and even the drinking, or, more specifically, the not drinking, which was just, so, un-New York. And she had been very New York, after all; right up until the time she fled. There were many more days than not, in which May Alice believed herself a fraud, and she was certain Lisa and Austin would figure that out when they read her play. But they hadn't; they liked it; liked it so much they were willing to fund the pre-production in hopes of eventually having it picked up by a larger production house. If Chantelle were to sign on, too, she might finally allow herself to believe, maybe, she wasn't such a fraud after all.
The women talked until late in the evening. They covered a lot of ground, and May Alice was touched that Chantelle's questions were solely about May Alice and her needs, not a word about pay, or where she'd stay, or what she'd do while May Alice was working. Maybe she'd not had time to think about those things, but the fact that she was still putting May Alice first, always, was starting to sink in, and it served both, to comfort, and deflate her. She wanted to be more attentive to Chantelle's needs, but she felt she always fell short, and she didn't like it. It was not how she was raised. In an effort to rectify that, she stopped the conversation for a moment, finding just the right words. "Chantelle, I have not even thought to ask you if you want to do this?" Chantelle didn't answer, oddly struck that she didn't know the answer, right off. So, May Alice continued, "You don't have to answer me now. Sleep on it. It's a lot to consider, I know." She didn't really know, she'd never thought about it, but she did want to then, and she needed Chantelle to, also.
The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. If May Alice could have jumped out of her seat, she would have. Instead, Chantelle bolted to the living room and picked up the phone. May Alice could surmise, immediately, it was word on Acadia. She held her breath, frightened for what would be said, and not wanting it to alter Rennie's life any more than it already had. Chantelle was calm, and listening intently. She confirmed Rennie was there, and she would get him on the line. As she moved toward the stairs to get him, Chantelle confirmed it was Lieutenant Maris calling.
May Alice whispered, "Well? How does he sound?"
Chantelle looked back over her shoulder as she reached the stairs and whispered back, "I don't know - like a detective!"
May Alice waited impatiently, rolling her wheelchair forward and backward, awaiting the arrival of Rennie, and the rest of the news. Rennie bounded down the stairs, still in a bit of stupor from having been roused from sleep. He picked up the receiver, and slowly, seemed to come out of his daze. He was as calm as Chantelle had been, as he muttered the occasional, yes, and uh-huh, to Maris. He then reached for the pen and pad next to the phone and scribbled something down. Finally, he thanked the lieutenant, and said he would await the car, which puzzled both women.
When Rennie hung up, he bent over and took a deep breath. When he rose, he smiled at the women and said, "They have 'em. Arlene turned up with Acadia in a Baton Rouge hospital." Both women sighed along with him, and offered their encouragement and happiness at the news. Then he continued, "They're sending a sheriff for me, to get me to the hospital there." Chantelle said she'd make a pot of coffee, and instructed him to go upstairs and get dressed, and pack himself a small bag. May Alice didn't know what to do. She picked up the note Rennie had scrawled on the pad, and followed Chantelle into the kitchen with it.
"Oh my God, Chantelle, I think they've arrested Arlene," she said holding up the pad. Chantelle turned to May Alice and they both stared at one another for a moment taking in that news. Then they began discussing the various scenarios awaiting the Boudreaux family. They spoke in hushed whispers knowing that Rennie would be down any moment. When he did arrive, he'd done as Chantelle suggested, and was holding a small bag. He stood in the door of the kitchen, suddenly, not sure what to do next. May Alice motioned for him to come in and sit at the table and Chantelle brought a cup of hot coffee over to him. He held it, but didn't drink it, just stared into the blackness, the perfect metaphor for the past few days of his life.
May Alice stared at him and began to realize she'd never seen Rennie so adrift. She'd thought about Rennie a lot in the months she'd been back. At first, he was mostly a reminder of her childhood, which in comparison to her adult life in New York, now seemed a lot less agonizing than she'd recalled. She remembered the hellraising, thin, strong boy with the long, wavy hair, who used to trade stares with her so long ago. The boy with iron values, and truth to his words, and she could recall his wry sense of humor. She was happy that she could still find those same features in him twenty years later. Nostalgia was not all that kept May Alice from wanting Rennie around. More than once, since she'd returned, she been aroused by him. She always felt the lean, cut muscles of his shoulders whenever he'd hold her, after removing her from her wheelchair, while getting her into or out of his boat, and more often than once, she wished he'd just keep on holding her.
That evening, however, sitting there at her kitchen table, those thoughts didn't come immediately to mind. All she felt was sorrow for his predicament, for what he'd gone through, and what was still to come; she was sad for herself, too, because she had no idea what to say to him, or how to help. She was simply resigned to reach across the table and take his free hand in hers. He held it tightly, and even looked up from his coffee cup and managed a small smile for her. The intensity in his eyes at that moment took her by surprise. In an instant, she felt tears welling in her eyes. She broke the eye contact, and pulled her hand away, like she'd touched a hot stove. He was startled by that response but said nothing. She mentally chastised herself for being so abrupt, but also, for permitting herself to feel such emotions about this man; this married man. She wheeled her chair back from the table and over to the pantry to retrieve a tissue and compose herself.
Chantelle was also surprised by the little scene before her, for May Alice to show such emotion. There were days when, even Chantelle, upon seeing the desperation, frustration, or anger, that May Alice often endured, wanted to cry for her, but even on those, days May Alice rarely broke. In fact, Chantelle had only seen it happen one time, within the first days of her arrival. To see tears forming in May Alice's eyes now, over someone else's pain, was not something Chantelle thought she'd ever see. Finally, she broke the silence, offering Rennie a second cup of coffee, even though he'd barely touched his first. He declined, and shortly after, they saw the lights from the sheriff's cruiser arriving in the driveway. Chantelle said a quick goodbye to him, and reminded him to call if there was anything she could do. He nodded at her and she exited the kitchen leaving Rennie and May Alice alone.
Rennie picked up his bag and made his way to May Alice, who had silently cursed herself into composure. She had turned the chair back around to face him, but still could not speak. She could find no words to say, and she was fearful that she might say something she shouldn't. Rennie bent down and took her chin in his hand then brought his face to hers and kissed her on the mouth. A sweet, gentle, yet, solid kiss, and then he turned from her, and left. May Alice found herself no only, still speechless, but breathless.
