Chapter 8
The women slept until mid-morning following Rennie's departure. They were preparing a light lunch, still a bit groggy from the early morning, and neither having slept all that well, hoping to hear word on everything from Rennie. As they ate, and trying not to be consumed by the wait, May Alice brought up the subject of New York. Specifically, she asked if Chantelle had any time, yet, to consider the trip. Chantelle had run the gamut. First, believing she wasn't up to all the logistics involved to get May Alice from place to place, and keeping her on track physically. Then, she worried about what her father would say about her going to New York, so soon after completing rehab; big city equals big temptations, she could hear him saying. But then, she realized, this was her job; the job she needed. Yes, New York City would prove to have many challenges for her, but she'd have to face temptations again, one day. At least, right now, she reasoned, she'd be too busy with May Alice to invite any real trouble. And, if she were totally honest, she was kind of excited at the thought of being an insider in the theater scene. She'd been to New York City with her parents as a teenager, and she'd even seen two Broadway plays at the time, but she couldn't imagine she'd ever be so close to the process. She didn't divulge any of that to May Alice, of course. She simply presented the pragmatic. "If you need me there, I'm prepared to go," is what she said.
Remembering that she wanted to be nicer, and more attentive to Chantelle, May Alice said, honestly, "I need you there, yes, but I also want you there."
"Okay," Chantelle said, simply, as she cleared the lunch dishes from the table. Once the dishes were done, she suggested May Alice get to her therapy, which they were late for, having slept in that morning. "You know, maybe in New York, we can find a pool for you to use. It would be a nice change in your exercise routine. Oh, and we'll have to let Louise know you'll be gone for a while." This was how things would be going for them the next two months, in preparation for their stay in New York; continual reminders to each other of all the things that they'd need to do.
It would be another five hours before they got word from Rennie about the scene in Baton Rouge. He phoned as they were unloading groceries from their latest trip into town. May Alice answered, and as Chantelle listened to the one side of the conversation, she noted that May Alice, while appropriately concerned, was also quite warm with Rennie. Her voice was softer than usual and her words were caring, but not in a pitying manner.
After the call, May Alice relayed all Rennie had updated her on. He only had some basics, which included Arlene having taken Acadia to a hospital in Baton Rouge, the other kids were being retrieved by the police, from wherever Arlene had taken them, Acadia was alive, but was near full kidney failure, so, she was undergoing dialysis again. He said the doctors still seemed confident she would recover, and that he had been able to see her, but he was not sure if she could tell he was there. He sounded very sad, which made May Alice very sad. He confirmed that Arlene had been placed under arrest, but would be released on her own recognizance since they didn't think her a flight risk. That was all he knew at the time, so he'd thanked May Alice for having allowed him to stay before, and he promised he would keep in touch with her.
Rennie would later learn everything about the ordeal. Based on Arlene's confession to police in the days following her arrest, they would learn that the elders of her church heard about Acadia having been taken from her mother and brought to a hospital where she was being "pumped full of narcotics." The elders convinced Arlene she needed to get Acadia out of there, and to a safe haven, where the elders themselves could pray over the child. Three men from the congregation took turns watching the child's room, awaiting a moment for Rennie, and the medical staff, to be gone long enough for them to remove the girl. Once word came that Rennie appeared to be leaving, the men joined together to bundle and sneak Acadia out of the hospital. Arlene, and another man had joined them, in effort to calm the girl, and assure her she would be all right. The group, then, fled to a rural homestead, outside of Baton Rouge, where the elders, the remaining Boudreaux children, and Arlene gathered, in vigil, over Acadia. The first day there, Acadia had become dehydrated, and was confused, and couldn't move much. The second day, her fever returned and the little girl, knowing what was happening to her again, began begging her mother to return her to Rennie. At first, Arlene was defiant, and feared Rennie had filled the girl's head with false promises of the devil's potions they'd given to her, but, by the third day, Acadia was too ill to even beg, and that frightened Arlene more than any charlatan, or his narcotics. It scared her enough to actually take the girl back from the elders as they slept, abandon her other kids, take a truck parked at the homestead, and deliver the girl to a hospital. Ironically, Arlene, frantic with fear and not having driven in years, nor, remembering the area well, had nearly run a state trooper off the road in her zeal to get her daughter back to a doctor. The trooper was able to get the woman to stop long enough to get her story. Upon recognizing who the pair was, he placed them into his vehicle, and rushed them to the hospital in Baton Rouge, where he promptly placed Arlene under arrest, and alerted the other agencies in Lafayette Parish that the missing girl had been located.
The arrest was a formality, really. The authorities were certain Rennie would not press charges against his wife, and no D.A. had any great interest in prosecuting a mother who, eventually, did the right thing by her child. If Acadia's condition worsened, it would become a different story, but at the time, Arlene was looking at charges reduced from, accessory to kidnapping, to child endangerment, and she'd been released on her own recognizance while the various law enforcement agencies figured out the jurisdictional priorities.
That first day following Rennie's reunion with Acadia and Arlene, the remaining Boudreaux kids had been retrieved from the homestead, and Rennie agreed to allow the authorities to take them to Arlene's sister's family in Baton Rouge until they could assess Acadia's condition. No arrests were made on Arlene's accomplices, since, no one would divulge who they were.
When Arlene had returned to the hospital following her arrest and release, she had no idea what to expect from Rennie. He was as angry with her, as he was with himself, for thinking Arlene's religion couldn't hurt their kids. To realize Acadia could die was more than he could process, rationally. Arlene approached him tentatively, and when he made eye contact, she could see his jaw bone moving from clenching his teeth. She had never seen him that angry, or intense, and it frightened her so much she stopped her approach. She mustered the courage to try to talk to him. "Rennie, I," as quickly as she started, she was, again, struck by his intense stare, as though he were daring her to say something he could attack her for. So, she looked down, and continued with a feeble, "I'm sorry."
He was geared for a fight, he fully expected she would defend her choices, and her religion, but when she didn't, some of his ire relented. "It ain't enough," he said firmly.
After a few more moments of silence between them, Arlene chose a seat near him in the ICU waiting lobby, and re-opened dialogue. "Have they said any more about her condition? Did you get to see her?"
He answered her stoically, "They don't know yet; they're just trying to get the infection under control and get her hydrated. I can only see her every hour, for a few minutes." They sat in silence for another forty minutes before Rennie had the ability to speak to her again. There were so many things he'd not talked to her about for the better part of the last eight years, he didn't know where to begin. He opted to start with the immediate. "What are you going to do now, Arlene?" She was confused, and didn't answer, so, he continued, "Either you believe in your church, or you don't. You brought her here, so what does that mean?"
"I . . . I don't know. I just knew she was sick, and prayer wasn't working. I guess I'm just not worthy enough," she said sadly.
"So, you think her getting sick was your fault?"
"Yes, of course. Kids don't just get this sick. I have not been a good wife to you. I haven't delivered you to God like a good wife would have. I guess, I hoped that if I could do right by our children, it would be enough for God to forgive me. Instead, he wants to take one from us. It's a warning."
Rennie could not believe what he was hearing. How could a religion so bastardize the will of God? He'd known a lot of different people, with a lot of different beliefs, but he had no idea that this is what his own wife's doctrine was. Again, he cursed himself for never having learned these things, never having asked her before then. "This is not something I can support, Arlene."
"I know, but it's because I am unable to make you understand, and this is why Acadia is being made to suffer; to punish me for my failure."
His mind was racing, wanting to say a hundred different things all at once. "Our child had a kidney infection. That's all. It happens, kids do just get sick. It ain't God punishing her, or you, or me." He knew she would not believe him, but he had to say it. He had to let her know he would no longer let her, blindly, raise his children. "If you continue to believe these things," he said, "I will not stop you. But I won't allow you to involve the kids any longer." He was staring at her intently, and she knew it was no bluff. She'd not seen this side of Rennie since their first few years together, and she'd all but forgotten how passionate he could be about family. She was shocked into silence by the words, what their implications were, and by his quiet ferocity. She didn't speak again for the rest of the night. She had much to think about, and the more she thought, the more lost she became. Rennie had plenty he needed to sort out too.
Acadia would remain in ICU another three days. In that time, Rennie, and Arlene would take turns sleeping, checking in on the other kids, and being at the hospital. A local chaplain, no doubt having heard about the girl and what led her to becoming so ill, had dropped in several times during those days to offer prayer, and general counseling to Rennie. Rennie liked the man, who he learned, was also a Catholic deacon in a Baton Rouge parish, and was only one month older than Rennie. Deacon Leon spoke with Rennie about many things, not just Acadia, or illness, or recovery, or even God. He just lent a gentle air of serenity to Rennie, which was, of course, quite welcomed. Rennie was not sure if the deacon had spoken with Arlene, in the times she was around, but he hoped, if he had, that Arlene might find the same relief in the man's words that he did. Bolstered by his visits with Deacon Leon, Rennie hoped Arlene might come to see that Acadia's treatment was working and, thus, God was not smiting her. He hoped, against hope, that his removing the children from the worship might serve to have her question her beliefs, enough for them to find middle-ground. He knew she loved their kids, but he worried she didn't love them as much as she loved the unreasonable god she worshipped. He'd mentioned this once to the deacon, who nodded his head, and said it reminded him of a quote by D.L. Moody and he spoke it for Rennie.
"'Obedience means marching right on whether we feel like it or not. Many times we go against our feelings. Faith is one thing, feeling is another.' Perhaps," he offered, "Mrs. Boudreaux has mistaken one for the other?" Rennie wasn't sure the exact relevance just then, but something about it made him feel better.
On the third day, Acadia's condition stabilized, but the dialysis had done all it could. The doctor broke the news that the girl would lose a kidney. The sooner they removed it, the better, they explained. The surgery, its implications, and the prognosis, all sounded terrible, but Acadia would survive and that was really all Rennie cared about. He did not ask Arlene, but told her, they would consent to the surgery. Due to the hardship of the displaced family, it was arranged that Acadia would be transported back to the medical center in Lafayette for the surgery, and her recovery. Not surprisingly, only Rennie signed off on all the consent forms. He directed Arlene to retrieve their other kids, and he put them all on the bus for home the following day. As he detailed the plan to her, he reminded her that she was, essentially, free on bail, and it would not be a good idea to take off to any other place but to their home, where she should stay with the other kids. She was still reeling from the entire ordeal and was not in any position to do anything else anyway, but he needed to keep her focused on the issues at hand and deal with her crisis of faith later.
Rennie was allowed to ride in the ambulance with Acadia as they transported her back the following day. As they loaded the girl into the ambulance for the trip, Rennie was happy to see Deacon Leon approaching. He hoped he'd have a moment to thank the man for his kind support. The deacon asked Rennie if he would mind if he prayed a moment with Acadia. Rennie stepped aside and did not hear what the man said, but Acadia had a broad smile upon the conclusion of the brief meeting and, again, Rennie was left with a hopeful feeling about the days ahead. The men shook hands and parted unceremoniously. The ambulance arrived, mid-day in Lafayette, and the rest of the afternoon was spent reassessing the girl's condition with her former doctor and, then, a surgeon. Rennie had been so inundated by the preparations, he'd not had time to think about Arlene, or the other kids, nor had he updated May Alice and Chantelle.
The latter two had continued their daily routines, while incorporating small deviations needed to prepare for their extended stay in New York. They both worried, and feared that no news about Acadia was bad news. But, in addition to the worry, May Alice tried not to think about how much she was missing her friend. Rennie's visits had helped her assimilate, helped return her to her ground. She had feared returning to Louisiana after her accident; feared she would not fit in; feared she would. Mostly, she feared being overwhelmed by the absence of her beloved parents, who filled every memory she had of her old house. Remembering those first days now, she recalled how close she'd come that. Returning to the house for the first time in twenty years, having to be carried in, by her first, and worst nurse, "Ilsa, the she-beast," she thought she might burst into tears, but she felt if she did, she would never have stopped. She was not about to give that horrid woman the satisfaction of seeing her broken by the grief of all her losses. Each day that followed that first one, offered new challenges that had kept her mind off missing her parents, and further served to keep her from properly mourning them.
Rennie's reappearance in her life had come at just the right time. She had found some stability with Chantelle, but she was still drinking, and that was clouding her outlook about having a livable future. Rennie was the sunshine behind those clouds. From that first day she'd seen him, building a ramp to her front door, his presence reminded her of how happy she really had been growing up. With Rennie, her memories were not followed by sadness, but rather by comfort; the way you are cheered by being in a foreign place and unexpectedly seeing someone you know there, too. May Alice was surprised to realize that just thinking about missing him, still provided her some comfort in his absence. But she was still wishing he was there, offering her encouragement to make the trip to New York. Then it dawned on her, Rennie had no idea about her endeavor, nor, that she and Chantelle would soon be gone. It also dawned on her how selfish that sounded, and she was ashamed how often she returned everything to being about her.
Late in the evening, the day of his return with Acadia from Baton Rouge, Rennie finally appeared at their door. They were happy to see him, but taken aback by his appearance. He could barely even smile for them; he was disheveled, and hadn't shaved. His face was drawn, and he seemed thinner than he had only a week ago. Chantelle hesitated even reaching for his arm, fearing it would come right off in her hand. May Alice was a bit more composed. Perhaps, so happy at seeing him, she didn't see anything else, or, perhaps, because she'd lived her own share of prolonged, horrible days in the past eight months. Regardless, she ordered him in and directed him to the kitchen table. Chantelle followed suit, joining them in the kitchen and then proceeding to make Rennie some hot tea. Once seated, Rennie began updating the women. He started with Acadia's impending surgery, which, rightfully, was worrying him the most at the moment. He looked to Chantelle and she immediately sat beside him explaining how lots of people function fine with only one kidney and he seemed relieved by that; he'd not thought beyond the surgery. He then explained where the other kids were, and how Arlene was with them. He didn't elaborate on why she was not in jail, nor what the future held for her.
As soon as May Alice believed they knew all they needed to for the moment, she asked Rennie to stay the night, again, in the guest room. Her words echoed those of Chantelle the week prior telling him he needed sleep if he were going to be any good to anyone. He understood, but he had a need to see his other children. He thanked the women for their hospitality and assured them he would be all right. As he approached the door to leave, he turned and asked Chantelle if she might be able to join him the following day during Acadia's surgery. She assured him they would be there, knowing there was no way May Alice was going to stay behind on that one.
Rennie returned home. He was relieved to see that no one was awake. Arlene had obviously kept the other kids on schedule with bedtime, and she, too, must have been asleep, as no lights were on anywhere in the house. He padded down the hallway, looking in on each of the two rooms housing his children. Upon seeing them, where they should all be, all sleeping safe, and soundly, he entered the bathroom, stripped off the clothes he'd been wearing the past two days, and took a very hot shower. He barely had memory of leaving the shower and falling asleep on the couch where he awoke six hours later to the sounds of Arlene stirring in the kitchen.
He rose from the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Arlene had coffee brewing and was cracking eggs into a bowl for the kids' breakfast. She looked up at Rennie. "You need a shave," she said, and then looked back down to the bowl, and began mixing up the eggs.
"Acadia is having surgery today, Arlene." She stopped stirring the eggs for a moment, but did not look up and did not respond.
"She will want to see you before," he said, guessing it would be true.
"The kids are not wanted back at the congregation school," she said, oddly. Then, returning to the situation at hand, she said, "I don't want them at the hospital. Of the two of us, she'll want you there with her. You can call me as soon as it's over." Knowing there was nothing to be gained by having her and the other kids there, with him being as worried as he was, he didn't argue.
Soon the other kids were up. Once they realized their daddy was home, they rushed him with hugs, and kisses, and a million questions about Acadia. He tried to reassure them she was going to be fine, but, he did say that she was still sick and needed to stay away for a while longer. They all ate breakfast together, a rare treat because, usually, Rennie would be off to work with the sunrise. As Rennie enjoyed the scene, he felt a small sense of sadness that he'd not made room for himself in his own family. His kids spent all but, maybe, three hours a day with him in it. He wondered what his father would think. His dad, for all his wild ways, had always been the center of his life, right alongside his mother, until she had passed. Eventually, he had to let the morning end. Everyone had places to be that day. Rennie got up from the table and motioned for the kids to go and get dressed.
When they were all away, Rennie said to Arlene, "Maybe you should look into the public school; see if they'll let Sabine and Missy in?" He knew how that would sound, callous and cold, and, as though he did not understand that their no longer being welcome in the church school had much bigger implications, but he needed Arlene to know she could not just let the situation ride. He was not going to back down on her having free reign over the kids any longer. It was not his intention to remove the kids from the school, initially, but if the church school wanted them out, so be it. Arlene continued to clear the breakfast table and did not respond. He left the room, to shave, and dress, and left the family thirty minutes later.
May Alice had been too restless to fall asleep the night following Rennie's reappearance. She was, of course, worried about him and worried about Acadia. She was worried about being at the hospital with Rennie's wife and kids. She was making herself crazy, and she was genuinely tired. She decided to invoke an old acting technique to calm her mind and allow herself to relax enough to get some sleep. As she drifted off, she had a dream. She'd had this particular dream before, but this time it was slightly different from what she'd recalled other times.
She is on the boat dock, dangling her feet in the water. She looks up and sees Rennie, bent down, working a couple feet away on the other end of the dock. He is shirtless. She stands up on the dock, and walks over to him. He reaches up toward her, placing his hand on her hip. The dream always started that way, but this time, instead of her bending to him, like the previous times, he stands and she takes his hand from her hip and moves it over her stomach. Then, the dream continued, as it had before, they begin to kiss. They're interrupted by the sound of Chantelle, across the water on an island. She is holding the hand of a little girl and waving, yelling, "May Alice, I found her!" Always the dream stopped there, but that night, it continued. May Alice looks at Rennie smiling, happy that Chantelle has found the child. Rennie bends down and places a kiss on her stomach then looks up at her with his deep amber eyes and says, "libre de la misère," and he rises, again, to his feet and wraps May Alice in his arms.
When May Alice awoke, she tried to recall the dream. She knew she'd had it again, and knew it had changed, subtly, but just as she felt she was about to remember, it would slip away, leaving her mind clouded. She thought about trying to go back to sleep, in hopes it would repeat, but she could not. She needed to get up, they had an eventful day ahead.
