Chapter 10

As time does, it continued on for May Alice and Chantelle in the weeks between Acadia's surgery and the holidays. It was a busy time for everyone. May Alice had found a lawyer in New Orleans who specialized in entertainment contracts. Robert Kohl was honored to represent a local celebrity. He'd been familiar with the actress but was, neither aware she was originally from Louisiana, nor, that she'd returned following her accident. Figuring it would only help his business, he took a cut on his hourly rate to claim her as a client. He probably kicked himself after seeing the offer Wyatt and Teller had sent for the play option. It was above scale; generous, because, for not being a straight comedy, or a musical, there was a fair amount of risk involved for any producer. After speaking about what was, and was not, included for actually getting the script to production, the attorney pointed out that no provision had been made for "said creator" to bring along a nurse. Chantelle's presence was non-negotiable, and if May Alice should have been offended that Wyatt and Teller had not considered her, it was lost on her. She didn't miss a beat in telling Mr. Kohl that the omission was not an issue. With that, he'd advised the offer was a solid one, and the contract was signed and returned in a matter of days.

Indeed, Chantelle's joining her in New York did not pose a single obstacle, financially. Earlier in the year, May Alice had been completely surprised to have received a sizeable check from her attorney in New York City. It was the settlement from a civil action her attorney had, rightfully, filed on her behalf following the taxi cab accident. He'd not asked to file it, he'd just assumed to, and in her months of rehab and recovery, she had neither, the drive, nor, the desire to deny him; she signed anything he'd sent her way. It was a very good settlement, designed to carry her through to her geriatric years without the use of her lower half. Upon seeing the numbers at the time however, she felt oddly criminal. The taxi company's insurance had paid every dime of her medical expenses; in fact, she was not aware of being out any money at all since January. She had her own money besides; it seemed gauche to accept it. It seemed everyone but May Alice understood the devastation her paralysis would have on her finances in the years ahead. The fact that she was pulling in top pay at the time on the soap circuit, and her relatively young age, added considerably to the settlement figure. Still, it had taken her to that moment in Kohl's office to understand that the money might not be so much in the poor taste she'd thought it before.

From the moment the signed contract arrived in New York, daily phone calls had become the norm between Wyatt, Teller and May Alice. Many discussions took place regarding characters, dialogue tweaks, blocking ideas; all were tried, retried, and tried again. The weeks of November streaked past, and along with them, thoughts, and desires of Rennie had been pushed aside, both intentionally and not, by May Alice. The practical factors in the decision to stop entertaining fantasies of Rennie were numerous. There were cultural, and religious issues, and there was her ego. While not a practicing Catholic, May Alice had been raised one, and was fully aware of the commandments she was breaking just by thinking about him. In addition, even before her paralysis, and battered self-esteem, she knew she'd never wanted to be the other woman for any man. Still, she knew she liked Rennie, and she liked his being around. He was a good man, and she'd known so few of those in New York. She knew from their many afternoons together, that summer, there was much more to him than what she'd imagined as a girl, and while she was learning those things about him, she hadn't harbored lustful thoughts of him. No, she reasoned, those thoughts always came after. So, she maintained that nostalgia was the real reason she entertained those afterthoughts of him, and neither of them were those hormonal teenagers anymore so there was no sense in fantasizing about him now. Adopting that very mature belief, and mixing it in with all the other reasons for rethinking Rennie, served her well in his absence.

Thanksgiving week was upon them. Dr. Blades and Denita were set to come, and Chantelle had been practicing ways to break the exciting news regarding New York City to her father. Telling him at Thanksgiving was a bit of a cop-out, she knew; waiting until he was softened, with the cheer of the holidays, and having May Alice to back her up, but she would need all the strength she could muster to face the good doctor, and the litany of concerns she'd imagined he'd have regarding the temptations of returning to a big city.

For this visit, instead of staying at the hotel in Lafayette, the pair would be staying at the Culhane house. The house had five bedrooms in total. Four on the second level, and a small one on the first that, until May Alice had returned home, served various purposes through the years; an office for her father, a craft room for her mother, and a who-knows-what room when Uncle Reeve's had last been the sole resident of the home. The rooms upstairs consisted of May Alice's childhood room, left exactly as it had been the day she left for boarding school her sophomore year in high school. The master suite, like May Alice's room, had not been utilized since the exit of Reeve's, and two additional guest rooms, one of which had become Chantelle's, and the other, which had recently been inhabited briefly by Rennie, was the room in which Dr. Blades would stay. After preparing the room with fresh linens, and dusting it, Chantelle opened the doors to the other rooms to allow more light into the upper floor. It had never seemed dark to her before but that was likely due to her always needing to attend to May Alice on the lower floor for most of the daytime hours. Now she reveled in how cozy the old house suddenly seemed with the sun beaming through the open windows and streaming into the hallway.

Upon opening the door to May Alice's childhood room, she remembered the first time she'd peeked into it. The frilly pastels of the fabrics were, very much, those of a young Southern belle, and very much, in contrast to the woman she knew. Seeing the room again, that day, though, she could actually picture parts of that happy little auburn haired, freckle-faced kid who had lived there so long ago. Denita would love the room, she thought. A canopy bed, a chevalier mirror, old antique dolls . . . but, Chantelle wanted Denita with her, and besides, she'd never dream to ask May Alice to relinquish her room for anyone else, not when she'd had to give up so much already. For all of May Alice's tough, sarcastic, iron-clad, emotions Chantelle had also caught glimpses of deep, sentimental one's in her, mostly all tied to the house. It was no wonder that May Alice, not once, in the months she'd been home, asked to be brought upstairs.

"You know, May Alice," she said as she came down the stairs, "that mattress in your room still seems like a good one. It's a good height. We should think about having it set up down here."

"A canopy bed? Down here? Are you serious?" She laughed.

"We wouldn't need the whole frame; we could get you a new one."

"I don't want it down here," she said solemnly, neither elaborating, nor, leaving the door open for more discussion.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and one day before the arrival of Denita and Dr. Blades, the women were busy finalizing the menu for Thursday, and making sure they'd bought everything they'd need for the traditional dinner. Chantelle had only just begun to learn to cook under May Alice's tutelage. A turkey was going to be her most advanced lesson, and Chantelle was grateful to have May Alice's instruction. As they reminisced about past Thanksgiving's, Rennie appeared at the back door of the kitchen. "Afternoon," he said with a tip of his baseball cap as he entered through the door. The women welcomed him, as always, noting this had to have been the longest stretch of time they'd gone without seeing him since the summer. It was understandable, of course; the man's life had been turned upside down that fall. They talked about Acadia, and learned how well she was doing. Rennie told of the other kids, and how the two older girls were in public school now and seeming to like it. They were allowed to play with kids in their neighborhood, which was more fun for them now that they attended the same schools. When they'd come up to speed on all but Arlene, Rennie further avoided that subject, and asked, "So what have I missed here?" He looked directly at May Alice, meeting her eyes with his intense amber ones. "I bet you have a whole new gallery of pictures I've missed," he said smiling.

May Alice found herself taking time to fully savor the comfortable, and happy feeling of his finally being back, and didn't answer right off. Chantelle helped out by saying, "Actually, Rennie – May Alice has some really big news to share with you." And with that, she took her customary leave of the room.

Shit, May Alice thought, she was caught off guard, but then, meeting Rennie's inquisitive expression, and her newly matured, alleged, lust-free attitude regarding him, she answered, and found her words flowed effortlessly. "Yes, actually, I do have some news." She proceeded to tell him about the play she'd written, and sold, the producers who hoped to resell it, the absurdity of it all, and then finally, she admitted to him, but mostly to herself, that she would be leaving soon. While that thought had seemed daunting before, as she detailed for him the whole evolution of it, she found herself becoming more animated about it, as though she could finally be excited about what it could mean for her. To then, she'd not allowed herself that luxury, but maybe it was the excitement of the holidays, or just the chance to share it all with Rennie, she realized, she no longer felt sad about being apart from him. In fact, she was finally feeling genuinely happy about the chance to return to New York.

Rennie saw it too; he was stunned. He wondered how he hadn't seen it. He truly had to be the blindest man on the planet, he thought. Of course, she'd never want to stay here, why would she? What's here for her? It was the happiest he'd seen her in all the time she'd been home, and it was while she was talking about leaving. All he could do was look at her, he couldn't even keep his smile for her.

May Alice didn't know what she'd expected from him, but stunned was not it. She'd convinced herself that in their weeks apart, Rennie had been getting his life back on track, wife included. Although he'd not said a word about himself and Arlene, she believed it was because he might know she didn't want to know. In addition to the sheer gravity of his family situation the last several weeks, May Alice had worked hard to forget certain feelings for Rennie, and was really trying to appreciate him as just her good friend. After all, that's really all they were to one another; her reckless flirtation had needed to stop, she'd thought. Clearly, he wasn't thinking of her, he'd not been around in a while, and even the calls had stopped after the first few days following Acadia's surgery. She knew, all too well, from her soap opera days, there was nothing like full-on, family angst to bond a couple together. She needed to be a supportive friend to him, and she'd focused on that, it was part of what helped her conceive of spending all the weeks away in New York City. She had successfully adopted that attitude, and it had worked, right up until the moment he'd looked at her. Instantly, she felt her feelings for him creeping back with the gaze of his eyes upon her, and the familiar warmth his intensity enveloped her in.

Finally, he spoke, "That's really great, May Alice. I'm. . . I'm real happy for you." He was sincere, he was happy for her, but he was also very, very sad for all he thought it meant.

"Thanks," she said absently, not sure what she was seeing in his reaction, not sure what else she should say, and feeling genuinely disappointed that he didn't share her excitement. When Chantelle entered back into the conversation, shortly after, they discussed all the preparations for the trip, and the timing and such, but the banter felt forced, and soon, Rennie said his goodbye and left.

Rennie didn't come around again for weeks more. In fact, he didn't show up, the next time, until two days before Christmas. In those weeks between, he'd been thinking a lot about May Alice, more than he should have, he thought. Some days, he was happy to think how remarkable it was that she'd found her way back to writing, and how happy that would have made her parents. Other days, he was sad, thinking about the little, tree lined dirt road to her home, and how it would soon be vacant again like so many years past; and, on rare occasion, he was angry. Those were the harder days, because he didn't want to think why he could be angry at anything having to do with May Alice.

That Wednesday before Christmas, he'd returned late in the afternoon from New Orleans with toys purchased for the kids. He'd been thankful that, for all of the oddness of Arlene's religion, they'd always celebrated Christmas. It was his most happy season because it usually meant tourism had slowed, and he'd made his money for the year, so, he could spend extra time with the kids enjoying the thrill of it all. But this year was different. He'd worked right up to that Wednesday, recouping the money he'd not made during the many weeks caring for Acadia. The folks in the parish had, as always, found jobs for him to do, and they often overpaid him, just slightly, if ever there were lean months. He'd done all right, and he was looking forward to the time with the kids. Still, he wanted to see his friend. He missed her, and he'd wanted to return to see her, but hadn't made the time. Every time he thought he could sneak in an hour, or so, to visit, he would be overcome by the memory of the excitement on her face when she was telling him about New York, and then he would remember his belief that she had nothing there worth sticking around for. Regardless, this day, he would go and see her. He needed to see her, and he would be genuinely happy to do so. He owed them both that.

He pulled into the driveway, and made his way up the ramp he'd built for May Alice in, what seemed like, years ago to him, then. He was enjoying the Christmas lights that appeared on the porch and around a few of the large trees in the front yard, wondering if Chantelle had done all that on her own. He was cursing himself, again, for not making time to come by before and offering help, when Chantelle opened the front door to greet him.

"Rennie Boudreaux, where the hell have you been? Get in here!" She smiled.

He smiled back at her, realizing he'd missed Chantelle, too. "Joyeux noel," he said, out of habit, as they shared an uncharacteristic, but, welcomed hug.

"Oh, uh, joyeux noel right back to you, whatever that means," Chantelle said under her breath as she ushered him into the kitchen, taking his jacket from him. "May Alice! It's Rennie."

May Alice was in her room, she'd seen the lights of Rennie's truck coming down the drive, and was making her way into her chair, and out toward the kitchen. "So it is," she said, smiling at the sight of him. He bent to fashion a hug and was struck by the scent of her perfume, or, what he assumed had been perfume all this time. Perhaps it was just her, but whatever it was, it enveloped him along with the warmth of the embrace, and he found he had to force himself to let go of her.

"Joyeux noel," May Alice said in a perfect French Cajun dialect. "Sit, sit – tell us how everything is going."

"No, you first. I've been away too long. I didn't get to hear how your visit with your kin was," he said, looking at Chantelle.

Chantelle began telling him the amazing time they'd had in the short Thanksgiving visit as May Alice poured everyone cups of hot apple cider. Part of the joy, that Thanksgiving, Chantelle said, was in not having told her father about their trip to New York. She had chickened out, the entire weekend, and now, she would have to tell him at Christmas. Rennie wondered why telling her father was an issue, but she didn't elaborate, and he didn't feel comfortable asking. He let her continue with other news and was happy to learn that Sugar LeDoux, and some of his boys, had been responsible for the Christmas light displays in the yard and that Chantelle hadn't attempted it all on her own. The women then summoned Rennie to check out the back yard, where more trees were lit up, and the entire boat dock was festooned with multi-colored lights that reflected beautifully off the water. Next, the trio moved on to sharing favorite memories of holidays past, and Rennie eventually got around to mentioning he'd been to New Orleans that day to get the kids' gifts, and asked if they'd like to see some of what he'd gotten.

May Alice exclaimed, "You mean they're not wrapped?"

"Oh. I guess I didn't really plan that far ahead," he admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Well, go get them," May Alice playfully demanded, "and Chantelle, can you get the wrapping paper from upstairs?" The three went in three directions retrieving everything needed to wrap the gifts.

Two hours later, everything had been seen, played with, and wrapped, with the prettiest ribbons and bows Rennie could recall. He'd enjoyed himself, and was happy to realize that, even when May Alice talked about Christmas in New York as the most beautiful she'd ever witnessed, his hidden sadness about her had dissipated enough for him to enjoy the delight that still danced in her eyes. May Alice was happy, too. She went to sleep that night not even realizing she had not harbored one, inappropriate, lustful, feeling for Rennie the whole night. She was genuinely content to have spent time with him and knowing how much fun he was going to have with the kids at their ages. It reminded her that Denita would be coming soon, too, and staying a whole week this time. She hoped having family back in her home, even if it were not her own family, would make Christmas feel like Christmas once again.

Her hopes were not in vain. From the moment Chantelle's father and daughter arrived, the house was, once again, filled with life. Chantelle and Denita were inseparable. May Alice recalled the first time the doctor and the girl had visited, and she had thought Chantelle was probably a good mother, but at times, back then, she seemed more like a big sister to Denita than her mother. At Thanksgiving, however, Chantelle displayed more confidence in her position in the girl's life, and seemed to be moving back into what must have been her mothering role. She was still tentative, May Alice had thought, but she was definitely improving. Maybe her having written to the girl, so often, in between visits, had given her some platform to maneuver without the watchful eye of Dr. Blades because, by their return that Christmas, Chantelle was even more a changed woman. She was fully confident in sharing requests regarding Denita with her father, instead of defaulting to his declarations. She spoke to Denita like a loving mother, not a friend, not a sister. She asked Denita, hard, mature questions, wanting to know what the girl was thinking about whatever topic seemed to be on her mind. Denita blossomed, too. She was still a quiet, polite, child but she joined in conversations with the adults, and she asked many, many questions about her surroundings, about her mother, about May Alice, about cooking, everything. It had been so long since May Alice had spent any time with kids she, either didn't realize, or, had forgotten how smart, and funny they could be. She discovered herself watching the two incessantly. She would catch Chantelle, sometimes, just staring at the girl while she colored, or played with her dolls, or spoke to her grandfather. She wished she knew what Chantelle was thinking in those moments, but she realized the importance of not interfering with the metamorphosis she was witnessing by asking invading questions. Instead, she found herself wondering if her own mother had ever looked at her in the same way. She hoped she had, but feared she'd not. Even more frightening than that, she feared she'd never have the capacity to feel anything as deep as what she believed Chantelle was feeling when she looked at her only child.

May Alice continued to find Dr. Blades a very interesting, although, serious man, and she would try to engage him, at least once a day, to give the mother and daughter some time alone. She liked that he knew very little about her, about her former life, and profession. He mostly knew her as his daughter's employer, and while that felt a little elitist, she was happy to not have to revisit how things used to be with her life, before the accident. However, that bit of anonymity lasted only until Christmas day, when the women finally broke the news to Dr. Blades about the latest profession, and the impending trip to New York City. Naturally, he was a bit overwhelmed learning about all the pieces and how, and why, they fit together. He was especially taken aback when learning about May Alice's former career. Like his daughter, he had trouble reconciling what he knew of her, and her having once been an urbanite, and semi-famous actress. He could buy the writer part much more easily. But what really stuck with him, in the end, was Chantelle being in New York City, alone. The women tried to downplay the alone part, especially since the whole reason she would be going was to attend to May Alice, but there was no doubt that Chantelle would have down time. The only conclusion drawn that day, before they moved on to less heavy matters, was that Chantelle would be tested in life. She would, for the rest of her life, need to continuously make the choice to stay sober - whether that choice was made in Lafayette, Chicago, or New York City.

That evening, Chantelle and Denita were in bed and Denita asked if she could come visit her mother in New York. Chantelle wanted that so much, and she, and May Alice had discussed it, but Chantelle could not be the one to answer, which hurt her more than she expected. It reminded her again, like every single day of her sobriety, how much she'd given up for drugs, and the man who introduced her to them, and how hard it was going to be to earn her way back into Denita's life. She was grateful, every day, that her father had been able to step up and raise the girl in her absence; so many addicts' children were far less fortunate. But, it also meant she'd have to fight twice as hard to convince her father, and maybe even herself, that she could be trusted with the girl again, one day. Six months' sobriety was, in many ways, so much, and in just as many ways, nothing.

"We will see," is all she could respond to the girl.

Since Denita and Chantelle were so inseparable, May Alice took it upon herself to approach Dr. Blades about the possibility of his bringing Denita to New York for a visit while they were working. She invited him to join her outside on the dock, one morning, while she did her mid-morning workout. The day was warming up nicely, and several times, Dr. Blades had mentioned the good weather and how he missed fishing. "We have all the gear, and no one's using it. Why don't you help yourself?" she offered. He'd agreed, and once he'd set up on the dock, and had done some casting into the river, she rolled up closer to the dock and presented a second invitation to him, this one, for the pair to join her, and Chantelle in New York. "Perhaps, during her Spring Break in March?" She offered. To her surprise, he did not say no. He didn't say yes, either, but that was a stretch goal anyway.

"Well," he responded, "I think it's rather early to commit to anything."

May Alice nodded, not really sure what else to say. She let silence settle between them for a while as they enjoyed the quiet lapping of the water under the dock. Eventually, she said to him, almost as if to change the subject, but not, "She has an iron will, you know?"

"Like her father," he said. May Alice chuckled. She couldn't argue that. The rest would have to be up to Chantelle, she decided.

No one brought it up again that day, but prior to their departure, another discussion was opened, in which May Alice reiterated that, if Dr. Blades found the time, and desire to bring Denita to New York City, they would be most welcome. They both agreed upon the importance of the girl continuing to spend time with Chantelle. Perhaps his most meaningful gift to his daughter that Christmas, was his agreement, that barring any unforeseen circumstances, he would plan to bring Denita to New York in March.