Chapter 21

The day following their return home, May Alice awoke with an aching back. The previous December, shortly before Christmas, Chantelle had insisted that she move off the couch in the living room and into the bedroom on the ground floor. Chantelle understood May Alice's desire to sleep on the antique couch; it was firmer, and sat higher, than the bed in the room, which was easier for her to get on, and off of, by herself. Additionally, the king size bed in the small room left little room for a wheelchair to maneuver around. Still, May Alice had grown stronger, and could, without much more effort, utilize the bed. Chantelle believed the couch was never a permanent solution, yet six months into her tenure, it appeared less temporary than she'd hoped, so, she seized the opportunity to coax May Alice out of the living room by saying how much she'd like to put up a Christmas tree for Denita's visit. It was a cheap play on May Alice's emotions, but it had worked. They'd exchanged the bed with a smaller, daybed from one of the upstairs bedrooms, creating a little more space in the small room, but the mattress was still old, and lacked proper support. May Alice had made due with it until they'd left in January, for New York, but now, back in it, she was again feeling the effects of the worn, thin mattress.

There had been several nights, in New York, when she lay awake, unwinding from the day, where she had contemplated ways in which she should have the old Culhane home altered to better accommodate her new lifestyle. She was getting back to enjoying cooking, while teaching Chantelle, but like her bedroom, the small kitchen made it difficult to maneuver with her chair, and the stove and countertops were too high to reach easily. She had thoroughly enjoyed the big tub in her suite at the Plaza, and the bed . . . no one could forget that bed. Those were the few amenities she had, repeatedly, thought about those nights; but as soon as she'd begin thinking of how to go about such a large remodel, sleep would settle on her, and the thoughts were placed the back of the pile of things she should, one day, do. The aches in her back reminded her, now, that 'one day' might be upon her already.

When she joined Chantelle for breakfast that morning, she learned that Chantelle, too, was having Plaza Hotel withdrawal. They chuckled at how spoiled they'd been the past few months. The aches were soon worked out, however, with all the activity needed to put the house back in order, that day, and the few that followed. May Alice returned to her weight lifting routine, and they'd restocked with groceries, and even found a thick foam topper for the small mattress on the daybed that would buy her some time until she figured out what better to do with the room.

Chantelle was happy to see that May Alice was paying more attention to the insufficiencies of the house; to her, it felt like May Alice was finally reaching some acceptance about the permanence of her injury. New York certainly helped in many ways; not just the tangible amenities at the Plaza and at the therapy pool, but the psychological healing that her writing was providing. The play, and it's acceptance by her peers, of course, did wonders for her self-esteem. Ben's attention didn't hurt one bit either. The one thing May Alice didn't seem to be paying any attention to, however, was Rennie. Not once had she mentioned him, or rather the lack of him, in the days they'd been home. Chantelle had been intrigued by the lack of discussion around Rennie during their stay in New York, but she'd realized at the time, that all of May Alice's focus had, rightfully, been taken by the play and all its preparation, and aftermath, but those last few days, when he had come up, May Alice seemed to truly want to touch base with him again. Yet, having been home for four days, and May Alice's involvement with the play, right then, being nil, she'd still not brought him up, and Chantelle was once again, intrigued. Finally, by that Friday she couldn't resist bringing him up. "I thought we'd have seen Rennie by now," she started, as the two were finishing breakfast. "I hope that's not bad news," she finished, looking directly at May Alice.

"Hard to say," was all May Alice answered.

"Well, aren't you even curious?" May Alice didn't answer right away, but Chantelle let the silence hang because she really wanted to know what May Alice was thinking.

"I am, of course, but, you know . . . maybe he and Arlene have patched things up? Acadia was doing fine, you said. So . . .?"

That wasn't nearly enough for Chantelle, so, she prodded further with another question she'd had on her mind, "Does this have anything to do with Ben?"

May Alice's brow furrowed and her eyes widened a bit, "What?! Ben? No," and then she laughed and said, "Whatever Ben and I were, we are no longer." Then she stopped and looked away, out the back window, and fell silent for a few moments. Just as Chantelle was about to let her off the hook, May Alice said, "I don't fit into that life anymore . . . or any other, it appears."

She was not feeling sorry for herself, Chantelle knew. It was confirmation, she hoped, of her earlier assessment, that May Alice was finally accepting the crappy hand she'd been dealt. She knew Rennie cared for May Alice, regardless of his having a wife, and she thought a reminder of that might do some good. "Well, I don't think Rennie would agree. I think he has always liked you being in his life, and I think he'll be hurt that you didn't let him know you're back." She moved to pick up the dishes from the table and placed them in the sink. She didn't expect an answer and she didn't get one.

When May Alice did speak, awhile later, Chantelle received the keenest insight to May Alice she had received since meeting her. May Alice was still looking out the window as Chantelle had finished washing the breakfast dishes and said, "You know how whole cities are built on top of landfills?"

Sensing that May Alice was continuing the conversation from earlier, Chantelle simply said, "Yeah."

"That's how I built my whole life. I worked and worked to cover up all the garbage with a beautiful new foundation. I built a perfect, happy, exciting life on that foundation. I had perfect friends, a successful career, a pretty great social life. The trouble is, it still just covered up the garbage underneath."

"So what's wrong with that?" Chantelle turned to face May Alice and continued, "If there were no beautiful city, the garbage would still be there, but nothing beautiful would have grown from it." It was a challenge; Chantelle knew from every line May Alice had written in her play, that she was examining her life in New York; that she had questioned everything about it, and now, she was concluding it was all nothing, that she was nothing. But that was the lie, not May Alice's life. "You survived. You adapted to a life, and along the way, you kicked ass and took names. So, you hit a speed bump, who doesn't? But here you are. Right back on solid ground, only smarter, and wiser, and wealthier; it's not a bad result."

May Alice was stunned. Chantelle had shown her the flip side of a coin. A perspective May Alice had truly never considered, even though it was exactly the side of the coin she'd been living on the entire past year. Her intent in sharing the analogy with Chantelle had been to explain how, and why, she had to let Rennie go. When she'd said to herself that Rennie was real, and Rennie was what mattered, she'd meant it. He had become her true north, the one thing she could count on, and to keep him that, she could not allow him to be sullied by her world, built on its foundation of garbage. She'd once reveled in her ability to tempt the wandering eyes of men, even though she rarely wanted those men for herself. She'd convinced herself that Rennie's affection for her was simply, that wandering eye, that appeal of the unknown, or maybe the forbidden. Even if she were wrong about him, she still believed she had nothing to offer him; he would not leave his wife, she knew. So, she concluded, her own presence in his life was nothing more than a distraction, and she didn't want to be that anymore. "Well, I am definitely wealthier," she finally responded. "If I am smarter or wiser, it's simply because I've sobered up enough to accept I have nothing that would benefit a man like Rennie. I suppose he probably figured that out too, in these months."

Chantelle was saddened by the matter-of-fact tone of that declaration. Where she'd believed that New York had done wonders for May Alice's self-esteem, this revelation was very reminiscent of the May Alice she'd first met. It was disheartening, but she had wondered if there might be a bit of a let-down period, while May Alice readjusted to life in Lafayette, after her success in New York. And Rennie hadn't shown up, even though he couldn't have known when they might come back, and he did have a lot he had been dealing with before they left. She would let it lie; she was encouraged, at least, that May Alice had opened up to her, and that her insight illustrated a genuine maturity that Chantelle had not seen in her with regard to Rennie. She believed in her heart, it meant one thing; May Alice was in love with Rennie.

Convinced she'd, at least, thwarted May Alice's latest attempt to sabotage her self-esteem with regard to Rennie, Chantelle felt confident enough to leave her that Saturday afternoon and drive in to Lafayette to fill the car with gas; something they'd been too tired to remember to do earlier in the week. She was as surprised to run into Sugar LeDoux, as he was to see her back in town. She was amused by their exchange because, while they'd had a tentative friendship, and casual relations, she felt like she was meeting him again for the first time. He, on the other hand, picked up right where they'd left off, as though no time had passed at all. He invited her for dinner and dancing that night, and for reasons unbeknownst to her, she accepted, although, not without hesitation that lingered well through the afternoon. In fact, by the time she was about to leave the house that evening to meet up with Sugar, she asked May Alice, for the third time since her return, "You're sure there's nothing else you might need?" She was hopeful for a yes, but it was a stalling tactic; they both knew it and they were both mystified by it.

"I am fine, Chantelle. Why are you so nervous about this?"

"I don't know," she replied, somewhat annoyed at the lack of answer, but having no excuse, she said goodbye to May Alice and left.

Chantelle arrived at the LeDoux home just before 7:00 p.m. and was met by a barrage of activity. Kids of all ages, about six of them, were moving throughout the house with various plans and orders for the others. She had met several of them in the past, and they were always polite and friendly, but more understated than their boisterous father. Finally, Sugar entered the room and met her with a warm embrace and a kiss on the mouth. He yelled out various instructions for the kids; some he ordered to be good for their sister, and be in bed by 9:00; others he told to be in by 11:00 and he told the oldest boy no drinking. The boy, still a bit underage for such activity, shrugged his shoulders and said, "I know, Dad," and seemed sincere.

As the two left the house, Sugar complimented Chantelle on her new hair style and said she looked thinner than she did at Christmas. "Charming," she replied, rolling her eyes and, nevertheless, smiling at him. He was no Bennett Marley, but she appreciated his sincere, no-bullshit approach to her. It felt pure, nothing like how May Alice's friends were in New York. Her apprehension quickly dissipated and the pair enjoyed their evening. They'd talked about New York, about Sugar's kids, and about Sugar's role in grooming a horse named 'Line in the Sand' who had recently won the Louisiana Derby and was going on to run in the Kentucky Derby that May. They danced until the hall closed at 2 a.m., and then returned to a much quieter LeDoux home. Chantelle was set to drive the fifteen miles back home but quickly found herself wrapped around Sugar in a passionate exchange. She did not return home that evening.

When she did arrive home on Sunday mid-morning, she found the house empty. She knew May Alice would be down by the boat dock, and when she'd confirmed that, by seeing her through the kitchen window, she proceeded to go upstairs to shower and change clothes. When she returned downstairs a half hour later, she noticed some papers on the table near May Alice's computer. They were sketches, she could see, upon leafing through them and she wondered if May Alice had, yet another undiscovered talent budding. When she examined them more closely, however, she noticed they were rough drawings of a floor plan; maybe a bedroom. She turned the paper on an angle and saw writing that said bed, armoire, and then another block labeled bathroom, with a question mark. "Interesting" she declared aloud. She took that sketch from the pile and proceeded out the back door to catch up with May Alice.

"You must have had a good time," May Alice said as she heard her approach. She was not upset; not that Chantelle worried about that anymore, she had spent nights with Sugar in the past, and May Alice was always fine with it.

Chantelle nodded and responded with a casual "Yeah." Then she asked May Alice, "So, you moving out?"

"Um . . . not to my knowledge," she answered. Puzzled as to why Chantelle was asking, she turned her chair to face her for an explanation, and saw then that she was holding up the sketch she'd taken from inside. "Oh, that. I thought it might be good to expand the room I'm in." Chantelle found it curious May Alice did not call it her room. "I know I need a good bed, but the room still isn't very big, and putting a regular size bed in it will make it even harder to get the chair in and out; and you know the issues I have with the size of that bathroom."

"I think it's a great idea. Do you think you can find a contractor to do it?"

"I think Rennie might be able to help me find one."

"You want me to call him?" May Alice didn't answer right off. It was as though it had never dawned on her, until that moment, that in order to get Rennie's help, she'd actually need to contact Rennie.

"No," she finally answered, "I'll do it, maybe tomorrow."

Another week passed and May Alice still had not made that call. Chantelle had no idea why she was so apprehensive to do it. The expansion of the room was necessary, and money was not an issue, and it gave May Alice the perfect excuse to call Rennie. Still, she didn't push, she knew May Alice couldn't possibly go much longer without seeing him. As for her, she was set to spend the afternoon with Sugar and his girls. His teenage daughter was barrel racing, and had a competition that day. She was excited to watch, and when she departed the house, she needlessly told May Alice, "Don't wait up."

"I never do," she replied, in a high, sing-song voice. Once she was gone however, May Alice suddenly realized she had nothing planned to do the rest of the day. She'd already completed her work out; she'd had lunch, there was never anything on TV, she really needed to look into getting cable, she remembered. Soon, she found herself drawn to the water, like always. She wheeled out and stopped short of the dock, enjoying the cool breeze and the shade of the willows. She just watched the water. It was her favorite time of year on the bayou. Spring brought the majority of the bird species together and the fish leapt from the water, feeding like mad on the early crop of mosquitoes and other insects that would be in full swarm by summer. She was soon lost the sights and sounds around her. She didn't know how much time had passed when she heard a boat coming around the bend in the river. As it came into view, she realized it was Rennie. He was speeding along about a half mile out. He was not heading in her direction he was just cruising past, going up river where she knew he had numerous fishing spots. He was nearly out of sight before he glanced over in her direction. When she thought he did, she waved her arm high, but he'd kept on moving upstream. She smiled, happy to have caught a glimpse of him and content in the belief he'd not seen her.

Rennie was lost in his own thoughts about the arrival of spring as he made his way up the river. He had taken the kids to the library that morning and they'd planned to spend the afternoon together on the river, but Bully Jenkins ran into them at lunch and invited them to go with him, and his family, to the 4H Rodeo going on that weekend. The kids, much to Rennie's surprise, begged him to let them go along. Mr. Jenkins had three of his four girls with him, and they assured Rennie if he didn't want to come along, they would be happy to keep watch on the younger kids. Their oldest daughter was riding in the rodeo, which added to the kids' excitement. He'd so looked forward to the spring day on the water he declined, but took the Jenkins up on the offer to entertain the kids for the day. He was almost ashamed to find how much he'd been missing his days alone on the river. He loved having the kids with him more, he knew, but he definitely missed this. Just as he rounded the bend into the mouth of the river, he saw a pair of sand hill cranes flying above the open water. That's a good omen. In many cultures, cranes are revered as good omens, but he liked that the sand hill cranes were so abundant in the area. He never tired of watching their graceful glides and swift dives. "Life mates," he said aloud, for no real reason. He continued to drive and watch as the cranes started a slow decent to rest along the shore line, and his eyes followed their path until they landed. Then he realized he was just up from the Culhane house. He glanced over and thought he saw movement on the shore, by the dock. Convinced he was seeing things, he kept on his journey for another few moments. Then, overcome by happiness, he realized, yes – he had seen someone waving at him from the shore, and he knew it had to be May Alice. He drew back on the throttle, turned the boat around and headed back in her direction. As he neared, he found himself smiling and waving back at her. They watched one another as the boat drew nearer, and finally arrived at her dock. May Alice remained stationary on the shore as Rennie moored his boat, walked up the dock, and stopped at its edge, just enjoying the sight of her waiting there for him, so unexpectedly and welcome. At a loss for meaningful words, he simply stated the obvious. "You're back."

"Yes," she said, radiating a smile that had not left her face since she first saw him. Rennie walked the rest of the way up to her on the shore and found he had no idea what the protocol was now. Should he hug her? Shake her hand? They'd been apart for so long, and the last time they'd been together, they had not been alone. So, he just stood before her, his hat in his hand from when he'd removed it to greet her. Somehow she seemed more beautiful than he'd ever remembered her being, and he felt like he could just stand there and stare at her forever. May Alice was, likewise, unsure of their status at that moment. She was overcome by happiness at seeing him again, but guilt, over having not so much as called him, even one time in months to see how he was doing, nagged at her. She was trying to read his face for a clue to what he might be feeling now. Was he angry with her? Hurt? Was the smile on his face going to fade quickly upon his realization of what a selfish brat she's been? "You're still smiling," she said to him after a moment. "I hope that's a good sign."

As easily as he had been rendered unable to move before, he was then propelled toward her. Protocol be damned, he lowered to his knees and reached for her. She returned the embrace and basked in the feel of him. It was like holding sunshine, she thought. Suddenly, everything about him overwhelmed her, and she felt her breath catch in her throat, as though she might cry. Rennie didn't notice right off; he was so busy memorizing how she felt in his arms, how she smelled and how soft her hair was against his cheek. Upon feeling her small gasp, Rennie worried he was squeezing the breath from her, and he released his embrace, pulling back a little to see her face. He saw tears forming in her eyes, eyes that he'd never recalled being quite so green. He removed the familiar handkerchief from his shirt pocket and held her chin in his hand as he dabbed the mist from her eyes. They were both still smiling, completely surprised by, but understanding, the feelings happening between them. "Why wouldn't I be smilin' at you?" he asked quietly, not sure what the combination of her smile, mixed with tears, was about.

Her smile faded, but she found her words flowed easily, and with an honesty that she rarely presented, "I have not been a good friend to you, and I'm so ashamed." He could tell she was conflicted about that declaration and he couldn't understand it.

"Well, I've always believed someone is a friend, or they ain't; I've never, not considered you a friend." She was touched by the simplicity of his belief, and she knew, for him, it was true but it did little to make her feel better. She marveled in his words, and quickly her smile returned. "That's better," Rennie said, releasing her chin and placing the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Hey, you feel like comin' out on the river with me?" He was remarkable, she thought; something that had been weighing so heavily on her mind, her continued neglect of Rennie all these months, seemed to be a non-event to him. She wasn't sure she believed it, but something in her knew he was sincere.

"I would love that," she replied.

The pair prepared a small bag of provisions for May Alice, and, of course, left a note for Chantelle. Within thirty minutes they were underway, heading along the river. Rennie mentioned the pair of cranes, who were still together on the shoreline just up from May Alice's dock. She commented that she had been watching them fly in, as well. As they continued their journey up the river toward a fishing spot, May Alice was again lost in the sights and sounds and smells of the swamp she had been so removed from during the winter and ever grateful Rennie could make her a part of all of it again. After Rennie had parked them in a boggy cove, and had set up his fishing gear, he moved May Alice out of the boat and on to the shore where he'd laid out a soft blanket for her to sit on. There was more shade there than in the boat, and he wanted to talk with her, like they used to. He wanted to sit beside her and enjoy her presence. He'd settled her in, then re-secured his baited lines in the boat before finally resting at her side. "I hear your play went real well," he started.

She was surprised he knew, and she was ever-curious about where he got his information. "Yeah, it did. I got lucky, I guess."

"Aw, I'm sure it was more'n that," he said, confident that she was being humble. There was a brief silence while Rennie picked at the long grasses bordering the blanket they were sitting on. He was trying to find courage to ask the next question. "So, when are you going back?" He looked at her, suddenly feeling like he needed to memorize her face again because it would not be around much longer.

She was still watching the water, but felt his gaze on her. "Well, the play sold, so it's really out of my hands now. They may want me to go back for casting, and maybe the opening so, it's hard to say really, but maybe another month or two." He was heartbroken. She noticed his tentative smile from before had faded, and he looked away from her, back to the water. She was about to continue but his reaction made her pause to question what she'd just said to cause it. She quickly surmised what he thought her going back must have meant to him. Maybe he thought she would be going back to New York for good, and maybe his reaction meant he was unhappy about it? "That is, if I want to go," she offered, trying to gauge if she'd guessed right. He looked back at her inquisitively, and she was encouraged to continue, "It's a lot of work, you know? A lot of travel and the pace is . . . well, you can imagine." She moved her hand to touch his forearm, which was wrapped around his bent knee. His intense gaze returned to her as she made the contact, and she returned the look, and concluded for him, "I'm not moving back to New York." His smile returned and she was, again, warmed to her core by him.

He knew those cranes had been a good omen, he just had no idea what good news they portended.