Stolen Moments pt 3
STOLEN MOMENTS
by Daria
[Marvel disclosure: All X-Men characters are the property of Marvel Comics; all rights reserved. This is a work of fan-fiction. No permission was granted to use these characters. This story may not be reprinted or published without written permission of the author and may not be used for profit of any kind.]
July 17, 2001
My poor Diary! Seems I only bother with you when something major has happened...and something major has happened. I just don't understand why it had to happen the way it did, but it fits with everything else here, I suppose. Happy Bastille Day. Oh yeah, it's my wedding day to boot. You'd figure that a girl on her wedding evening would have something more romantic to do, instead of writing in a diary, but...well, you'll soon understand.
After all I've told you about me and Remy, I know you'd find it hard to believe, but our folks consented for us to be married a few weeks back. I've had mixed feelings about it ever since it was decided on, even though it's the one thing that I've always thought that I wanted. It was Remy's papa, Jean-Luc, who has pushed for it. Seems he's been trying to find a way to unite the Guilds and stop the hatred and killings and all; he figured that an arranged marriage between the key families would do it. My Gran'pere didn't want to go along with it, really; he didn't care what happened to the Thieves one way or t'other, but he's always wanted to get his hands on their fabled Elixir Of Long Life. Best I can put it together, he's figured that if he allows for a union of the Guilds, he might eventually get hold of the Elixir and live well into the next century---the kind of existence the Thieves have. That's all I need...another seventy years of Gran'pere running my life until I croak! Mon dieu!
Remy didn't want to marry right now either, and especially not by force; besides, we're only eighteen and haven't even had a chance to live yet. He loves me and I love him, but we've been worried about what being forced to marry is going to do to our friendship. Ain't like we had a choice either way; once it was decided that we would marry, we were trapped. Gran'pere fought hard for me to marry one of the other boys from the Thieves Guild, but the pickings were slim. Remy's older brother Henri had already married that trampy-looking Mercy gal, and besides, who knows how old he is anyway? Him and that bald head of his...pah! What with that elixir of theirs, any of those Thieves could be over one hundred years old! Gross out---ain't marrying no old man, no! There was his younger brother, Bobby, who was handsome and clever, but he was wild and stupid as well; he took off for parts unknown out of jealousy over his adopted brother. Probably dead somewhere. Good. Then there's Remy's cousin, Emil Lapin; he ain't bad- looking, but he's no Remy neither. There's Theoren Marceaux, another cousin who's as tall as Remy but nowhere near as slim or good-looking. Had him a cute younger brother name of Etienne, but he died a while back; too bad, too, 'cause he was a pretty blonde boy with dreamy blue eyes. They got another cousin name of Pierre who is sort of nice-looking, but he's got a temper and Remy says he's always been pretty nasty to him. Frankly, most of them Thieves treat Remy pretty shabbily; they put up with him to please the Patriarch, but Remy says that they show their true colors when Papa LeBeau isn't around. The Guild "brothers" take advantage of the fact that Remy won't complain to his papa about them so as to keep the peace, but it's a shame the way they shun him and shut him out at family gatherings. I'm still thinking about offing most of them later on when I get the chance; I'm sure Gran'pere is doing the same, despite the truce. "Talk peace but prepare for war," as the saying goes.
Even though we got pushed into this marriage, Remy wanted to do things to make it nice for me, so he invited me out to dinner one night right after the arrangement was made. Flowers, candle light, Cajun waltz melodies and sweet talk...he didn't miss a beat, that boy. And the ring he gave me; that's really something else! It belonged to Jean-Luc's mother, Felice, he said; his papa had saved her engagement and wedding rings for Remy to give to me. I thought for a moment that it was strange that he'd given it to his adopted son and not to his real, eldest son Henri to give to his wife, but Remy said that Henri had used his own departed mother's rings to wed Mercy. I hear tell that old Jacques LeBeau, while having a roving eye for the pretty Creole gals, was real good to his wife and placated her with jewels, and my engagement ring proves it. This ring has got enough karats to make a rabbit go berserk, and I hear tell that the wedding ring is even better. What that tramp Mercy knows about diamonds could fit into the bottom of a thimble and still leave lots of room for tea, so I'm thinking I got the better deal out of it either way. Rings or no rings, though, I definitely got the better of the LeBeau boys, no question about it.
Two days ago, Remy took me into town and we had a nice long talk. He'd been a bit distant and elusive since the bands of marriage were announced during Mass a few weeks ago, almost like he didn't want to be around me too much before we were going to be stuck that way until death do us part. If Storyville, New Orleans' red light district, hadn't fallen victim to the Vice Squad, my bet would be that Remy had been spending his final weeks of bachelorhood sewing his wild oats. That's my Remy: kissed by the angels but cursed with a streak in him that's the touch of the Devil himself.
"How many babies we gonna have, chere?" he'd asked me, holding my hand just as tenderly as you please. "I was thinking about six or seven of 'em, me!" he declared, grinning from ear to ear. I snatched my hand back as fast as I could, reeling from the shock of that announcement! "You best start figuring on how you gonna have them babies your OWN self!" I told him. He looked at me, a face full of confusion. "Maybe them nuns ain't told you this, Belle, but it don't work that way, darlin'!" he giggled, shyly batting those long, dark eyelashes of his. "You birth 'em, then I kiss 'em and spoil 'em; that's how it goes. Been the same way since the dawn of creation, I 'xpect." I just rolled my eyes. "You can do a lot of stuff that normal human boys can't do, mon cher," I reminded him. "Maybe you can do reproductive stuff you ain't supposed to do as well, like them male seahorses. Don't make me no nevermind neither way, 'cause if you think I'm stretching myself out just to have a houseful of little knotheads like you...? Think again, boy!" "You wound me, chere!" he cried. "We'll let nature take its course and see what happens, neh? I'd sure be happy spoiling a pretty little girl with dimples and long blonde curls like her mama, or chasing around the park with a pack of spunky li'l boys. I really want to be a papa, Belle. It would give me the chance to have a real family, like I never had for myself. I'd finally be part of something instead of being on the outside of it all."
After that exchange, Remy held me tight for a long time without another word. It was as if his arms could shut out the whole world and just leave us two to get on with our lives, without the needs of the families looming over us. If I had known then that it would be the last time we'd be together like that, I would have tried my damnest to make it last forever, just as Remy tried to do. Maybe, deep in his heart, he knew we'd never have a moment to ourselves like that again.
On my final night as a single woman, I had a house filled to the rafters with Boudreaux, Pajauds, Thierrys, Broussards, Breaux, Comeaux et Doucets eating all the oyster loaf, Jambalaya, Cajun Stew, Dirty Rice, boiled shrimp and crawfish they could lay their ravenous mitts on during the course of the evening. As I was to find out, Remy spent his last night of freedom over to Tante Mattie's house in Slidell being forced to pray the Rosary and help her hem a skirt for the church's altar, Mattie being the one person both Guilds trust to keep the peace and all of our secrets, as well as being our spiritual conscience. She's also been the closest thing to a mother that Remy and I have ever known. Those two simply adore each other, so Remy is mighty patient with her, even when she pushes him into doing things he'd normally scoff at. Them lousy Thieves couldn't bring themselves to throw a stag party for Remy, so rather than be forced to pretend to be happy for him it was decided that it was best to have Mattie keep an eye on him...lest he decide to do a last minute runner to avoid the preacher's noose and, in the process, destroy the fragile peace pact.
This morning my big house was full of nothing but women; it felt...weird! I'm the woman around here; I have been since I was knee high to a duck. All the fussing and primping and hair-curling and perfuming---it just felt strange, yeah. I'm used to being the tomboy in a house surrounded by men...noisy, beer-swilling, rowdy, trouble-making men. Polite giggling, fluttering eyelashes and rouge just ain't my style, but I tried to be polite as my aunties, cousins and friends flitted around me like steel- plated butterflies, all elbows and painted fingernails and high-heels. All the time I wished that me and Remy could have just run off to Atlantic City or Las Vegas like other young folks in love, but the families wouldn't have stood for it. Everything had to be done according to ancient traditions. Hang tradition---I would have been happy marrying Remy on a riverboat cruise down the Mississippi and never coming back here. Ever.
Two petticoats, one hoop skirt, a bustle, a corset, a bustier, six yards of lace and organza and a ton of ribbons, pearls and sequins later, I was trussed up like a holiday pig and ready to walk down the center aisle of St. Martin Of Tours parish church. The organist was playing "I Love You Truly" slightly out of key here and there; poor little Mrs. Pajaud's eyesight ain't what it used to be, and neither are her arthritis-ridden fingers. The aunties and cousins were fussing around me like bees buzzing in a jar; I had to keep checking to make sure I wasn't fodder for a beehive, what with all the orange blossoms in my wedding bouquet and everywhere else. All the noise and fuss was grating on my one nerve because all I wanted was to be with Remy. I'd been hoping that he'd come to my window last night like he used to, just so that we could talk and he could assure me that everything would be all right, but he honored the superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding. Fine time for him to suddenly become conventional.
Once I'd shooed off my helpers, I took Gran'pere's arm inside the doors and looked ahead down the aisle to where Remy was standing. Gran'pere looked at me wistfully, but his face tightened when he saw me goo-goo eying Remy. "I didn't want to give that boy your hand, petite fille," he sighed, "...but then, he's already had everything else, hasn't he? And don't deny it!" I was so surprised that I didn't have time to think up a denial! How did he know that Remy and I had been...that we'd...hmmmmm. Julien. Is there anywhere I can go without that bastard spying on me? I simply shrugged my grandfather's remark off and played stupid, choosing to examine the faces I could see inside the church. It was sure better than remaining under his watchful eye as he viewed me squirming. Finally, the wedding march began and Gran'pere took my arm to lead me inside, all to leave my girlhood giddiness behind for a life of uncertainty with a boy thief who possesses volatile, otherworldly powers. At the hand off, Gran'pere stared down his nose at Remy, visually threatening him to do right by me. Remy answered him by taking my hand as he stared him right back, defiantly proud, his full lips mouthing the simple phrase, "Elle est mon coeur."** Gran'pere's eyes fell to the floor in defeat at Remy's words of devotion; he shifted quietly behind me and out of my view. As Jean-Luc beamed with pride, Remy and I spoke our vows and became husband and wife. I could almost hear the icicles piling up in Hell over the sound of Gran'pere's teeth grinding.
Our wedding reception was a beautiful affair held in the Knights Of Peter Claver Hall which is on the property adjoining the church. The Knights acted as the honor guard at our wedding because the LeBeau men have been members for decades. To me, it's just a bunch of old coots dressed like Buffalo Soldiers, but they do good works in the community...plus their meetings are a good excuse to blow off the wives once a week. Several of the Black Chiefs of The Mardi Gras Indians were in attendance as well, on account of some of them are friends or relatives of Tante Mattie's, one is married to Jean-Luc's niece, Marie-Laure, and they all know and love Remy, who'd always loved to sit at their feet and listen to their stories for hours at a time. Add in all of the LeBeaus, Thibodeaux, Heberts, Georges, Dougets, Lapins and any of Remy's kin I missed and we had one packed meeting hall. I have to admit that it was fun seeing all of the different faces, colors and, in some cases, costumes that those in attendance wore; it was a fascinating mixture of so many of the cultures that make Louisiana unique. The one face which never appeared in the crowd? My brother Julien's. It hurt me that he couldn't bury the hatchet and wish me luck, but I supposed that he was off sulking somewhere plotting against the peace pact. I wish I'd been wrong.
For the Bride's Dance, the band played a valse mignon called "La Valse De Mon Vieux," a pretty little waltz written by an elderly gentleman to his wife of 35 years. I danced with my dear Gran'pere, who seemed to be trembling with nerves over losing me; I've never seen him close to tears before in my life. It was then that I knew how hard all of this had been on him: losing me to the LeBeau clan and losing control over the war between the Guilds at the same time. It was a hard day for him all around, but bless him, he tried so hard to be supportive of me. Today I learned how strong and honorable a man he could be and I've never been more proud of him.
As Jean-Luc stepped forward and asked to cut into our dance, Gran'pere bowed politely to him and put our hands together. At that moment, I finally felt the impact of our families coming together, an event that would have seemed impossible just a few months before. I saw Remy smiling with his hand over his heart at the sight of his new wife and his father waltzing together. For his part, Jean-Luc held me as tenderly as if I were a precious porcelain doll; he smiled down at me with the love of a proud father made happy by the addition of another daughter to his family. As the waltz ended, Jean-Luc beckoned Remy to join us out on the dance floor, and he strode over without hesitation...after acrobatically leaping over the wedding party table. You can take the boy out of the bayou, but you can't take the bayou out of the boy. I remember thinking just then that it was going to be easier to housetrain a puppy than to housetrain Jean-Luc's rough-and-tumble boy.
Remy bowed to both of our fathers and then took my hand in his own. While Jean-Luc signaled the band to play, Remy and I had already begun a dance to the music in our hearts. He was so handsome and gallant in his antique dress suit and sash; his face was full of light, as if being lit by a heavenly glow. He held me gently against his chest, so full of pride and delight that his sweet, compassionate heart was nearly pounding out a beat to rival the frattoir and drums of the band. I pressed my head against his chest for a moment, and as I looked beyond us I could see the reflections of the crystals on my tiara shimmering like tiny, glowing angels against our wedding guests who stood cheering and smiling around us as they watched us dance. Remy marveled at the reflection of the tiara as well; he then leaned down to kiss me in an embrace so full of zest that it made me swoon. I backed up slightly to catch my breath and to look into Remy's eyes; those tortured windows to his soul had never looked so filled with joy or so satisfied. Any hesitation or fear of a commitment to this marriage was gone; there was only contentment reflected in them. I embraced my old friend and new husband again as the scent of his cologne made me giddy with its sensuous aroma. The world was a perfect place for that moment, and just then I felt as if I were floating on a cloud, viewing this heavenly scene from on high. A moment later, that view changed and became frozen in time.
A thud. A gasp. A gurgling sound. The room suddenly went hushed. Someone screamed. I think it might have been my scream, but I'm not sure. I thought it had caught in my throat, the sudden fear choking me silent. Then I saw my face reflected in Remy's eyes as they opened wide with confusion; they pleaded with me to tell them what had happened wasn't true. Over the rise of the other noises surrounding us, Remy's pained voice called to me in a whisper, "Belle...?" just as he dropped to his knees. It was then that I saw it: the arrow. Its shaft and feather flights protruded from Remy's back, a small pool of blood spreading slowly across the circle of clothing pinned against his skin where the arrow had entered. Over the sounds of screeching and crying, the booming voice of my brother cackled from the entrance way to the hall as he waved his hands above his head, one in which rested his spent bow. "Remy LeBeau, I send you back to Hell, thief! Death to the Thieves and to the pact!" With a roar of car and motorcycle engines, Julien and his accomplices were gone in a flash as the hall took on a deadly silence.
Jean-Luc and Henri ran to us as I bent down over Remy. Following Julien's pronouncement, he had collapsed onto his side on the floor, a single, icy tear running down his cheek. Brushing Remy's hair out of his haunted eyes, I tried to find words to encourage him, but I could barely manage more than scattered pleas for help to those around us. More than anything, I wanted someone to tell me that this wasn't true, that none of this was happening and that Remy and I were still dancing, kissing and holding each other close. And Remy? I realized just then that he was still holding my hand to comfort me, more concerned for my security than his own. Placing my hand into his father's, he squeaked out, "Take care of Belle, Papa," in a raspy voice. "Take her away and don't let her see this."
Jean-Luc nodded sadly and tried to guide me away, but I waved him off. No way was I leaving my loving husband's side with him in that condition. I grabbed the pillow on which the wedding bands had rested, placing it under Remy's head, and as I did I saw a shadow fall across our faces. When I looked above us, I recognized the source of that looming darkness: Gran'pere. For the first time in my life, the sight of him sickened me. He had raised me and Julien to hate---to hate the Thieves and anyone who stood in our way. The hatred he'd fostered had brought us to this horrible moment in time, and Remy and I were left to pay the price for nearly three hundred years of strife between the Guilds. I'd like to believe that in that moment even Gran'pere realized that the cost was far too dear.
By then, Tante Mattie, a healer renowned for her curative abilities, was already trying to make Remy comfortable, keeping him calm as Jean-Luc urged our guests to stand back to give Remy room to breathe. Henri and some of the cousins carried Remy ever-so-carefully to a nearby table which had been cleared for them. Mattie instructed them on how to handle the arrow from the shaft to end, just as I saw Henri trying to sever the lodestone which had forced its way through Remy's chest and come to rest where it had punctured a hole through his shirt. It was then that I matched the place where it had exited his body to the thud I'd felt against my shoulder as we were dancing. Reaching up, I touched that area near my collar bone and felt a nick which had dribbled a small stream of blood onto my corsage and dress. It was a gruesome vision of blood red against the purity of my antique white gown and orange blossom corsage. Before we'd even spent a night as man and wife, Remy's blood had mixed with mine in the most cruel way possible.
I've been back here in my room for hours now, tears filling my eyes every time I think back to these events of the day. Tante Mattie said it would be touch and go with Remy for a few days; he was feverish and pale when they finally forced me to leave him late tonight. Gran'pere brought me back home and begged me to try to get some sleep, but, as you can see, I can't get no rest. Whenever I close my eyes, I see that look of horror on Remy's face as his eyes searched mine for an answer to what had happened. How can I sleep knowing that he's suffering, all because of my family? Gran'pere posted guards around the house to ward off any trouble tonight. He ain't worried about the Thieves retaliating; Jean-Luc promised to keep them in line in honor of the pact. Gran'pere is worried about Julien coming back to crow about his dirty deed and to seek revenge on him for siding with the Thieves. He don't need to worry, no, because if Julien comes anywhere near this house, he'll have Bella Donna LeBeau to reckon with. My brother won't live long enough to spit if he sets one foot on this property again, as God is my witness.
This has been a long entry, I know, Diary, and I'm going to close now. The tears are flowing again; I feel as if they'll never stop. Until I return, you please to take care of my orange blossom and lace corsage. I wish for anything that I could change what happened today, just as I wish that this pretty little ribbon hadn't been stained with blood. It will forever be a reminder of the wrong that was done to Remy and of my perfect day that turned into my worst nightmare.
STOLEN MOMENTS
by Daria
[Marvel disclosure: All X-Men characters are the property of Marvel Comics; all rights reserved. This is a work of fan-fiction. No permission was granted to use these characters. This story may not be reprinted or published without written permission of the author and may not be used for profit of any kind.]
July 17, 2001
My poor Diary! Seems I only bother with you when something major has happened...and something major has happened. I just don't understand why it had to happen the way it did, but it fits with everything else here, I suppose. Happy Bastille Day. Oh yeah, it's my wedding day to boot. You'd figure that a girl on her wedding evening would have something more romantic to do, instead of writing in a diary, but...well, you'll soon understand.
After all I've told you about me and Remy, I know you'd find it hard to believe, but our folks consented for us to be married a few weeks back. I've had mixed feelings about it ever since it was decided on, even though it's the one thing that I've always thought that I wanted. It was Remy's papa, Jean-Luc, who has pushed for it. Seems he's been trying to find a way to unite the Guilds and stop the hatred and killings and all; he figured that an arranged marriage between the key families would do it. My Gran'pere didn't want to go along with it, really; he didn't care what happened to the Thieves one way or t'other, but he's always wanted to get his hands on their fabled Elixir Of Long Life. Best I can put it together, he's figured that if he allows for a union of the Guilds, he might eventually get hold of the Elixir and live well into the next century---the kind of existence the Thieves have. That's all I need...another seventy years of Gran'pere running my life until I croak! Mon dieu!
Remy didn't want to marry right now either, and especially not by force; besides, we're only eighteen and haven't even had a chance to live yet. He loves me and I love him, but we've been worried about what being forced to marry is going to do to our friendship. Ain't like we had a choice either way; once it was decided that we would marry, we were trapped. Gran'pere fought hard for me to marry one of the other boys from the Thieves Guild, but the pickings were slim. Remy's older brother Henri had already married that trampy-looking Mercy gal, and besides, who knows how old he is anyway? Him and that bald head of his...pah! What with that elixir of theirs, any of those Thieves could be over one hundred years old! Gross out---ain't marrying no old man, no! There was his younger brother, Bobby, who was handsome and clever, but he was wild and stupid as well; he took off for parts unknown out of jealousy over his adopted brother. Probably dead somewhere. Good. Then there's Remy's cousin, Emil Lapin; he ain't bad- looking, but he's no Remy neither. There's Theoren Marceaux, another cousin who's as tall as Remy but nowhere near as slim or good-looking. Had him a cute younger brother name of Etienne, but he died a while back; too bad, too, 'cause he was a pretty blonde boy with dreamy blue eyes. They got another cousin name of Pierre who is sort of nice-looking, but he's got a temper and Remy says he's always been pretty nasty to him. Frankly, most of them Thieves treat Remy pretty shabbily; they put up with him to please the Patriarch, but Remy says that they show their true colors when Papa LeBeau isn't around. The Guild "brothers" take advantage of the fact that Remy won't complain to his papa about them so as to keep the peace, but it's a shame the way they shun him and shut him out at family gatherings. I'm still thinking about offing most of them later on when I get the chance; I'm sure Gran'pere is doing the same, despite the truce. "Talk peace but prepare for war," as the saying goes.
Even though we got pushed into this marriage, Remy wanted to do things to make it nice for me, so he invited me out to dinner one night right after the arrangement was made. Flowers, candle light, Cajun waltz melodies and sweet talk...he didn't miss a beat, that boy. And the ring he gave me; that's really something else! It belonged to Jean-Luc's mother, Felice, he said; his papa had saved her engagement and wedding rings for Remy to give to me. I thought for a moment that it was strange that he'd given it to his adopted son and not to his real, eldest son Henri to give to his wife, but Remy said that Henri had used his own departed mother's rings to wed Mercy. I hear tell that old Jacques LeBeau, while having a roving eye for the pretty Creole gals, was real good to his wife and placated her with jewels, and my engagement ring proves it. This ring has got enough karats to make a rabbit go berserk, and I hear tell that the wedding ring is even better. What that tramp Mercy knows about diamonds could fit into the bottom of a thimble and still leave lots of room for tea, so I'm thinking I got the better deal out of it either way. Rings or no rings, though, I definitely got the better of the LeBeau boys, no question about it.
Two days ago, Remy took me into town and we had a nice long talk. He'd been a bit distant and elusive since the bands of marriage were announced during Mass a few weeks ago, almost like he didn't want to be around me too much before we were going to be stuck that way until death do us part. If Storyville, New Orleans' red light district, hadn't fallen victim to the Vice Squad, my bet would be that Remy had been spending his final weeks of bachelorhood sewing his wild oats. That's my Remy: kissed by the angels but cursed with a streak in him that's the touch of the Devil himself.
"How many babies we gonna have, chere?" he'd asked me, holding my hand just as tenderly as you please. "I was thinking about six or seven of 'em, me!" he declared, grinning from ear to ear. I snatched my hand back as fast as I could, reeling from the shock of that announcement! "You best start figuring on how you gonna have them babies your OWN self!" I told him. He looked at me, a face full of confusion. "Maybe them nuns ain't told you this, Belle, but it don't work that way, darlin'!" he giggled, shyly batting those long, dark eyelashes of his. "You birth 'em, then I kiss 'em and spoil 'em; that's how it goes. Been the same way since the dawn of creation, I 'xpect." I just rolled my eyes. "You can do a lot of stuff that normal human boys can't do, mon cher," I reminded him. "Maybe you can do reproductive stuff you ain't supposed to do as well, like them male seahorses. Don't make me no nevermind neither way, 'cause if you think I'm stretching myself out just to have a houseful of little knotheads like you...? Think again, boy!" "You wound me, chere!" he cried. "We'll let nature take its course and see what happens, neh? I'd sure be happy spoiling a pretty little girl with dimples and long blonde curls like her mama, or chasing around the park with a pack of spunky li'l boys. I really want to be a papa, Belle. It would give me the chance to have a real family, like I never had for myself. I'd finally be part of something instead of being on the outside of it all."
After that exchange, Remy held me tight for a long time without another word. It was as if his arms could shut out the whole world and just leave us two to get on with our lives, without the needs of the families looming over us. If I had known then that it would be the last time we'd be together like that, I would have tried my damnest to make it last forever, just as Remy tried to do. Maybe, deep in his heart, he knew we'd never have a moment to ourselves like that again.
On my final night as a single woman, I had a house filled to the rafters with Boudreaux, Pajauds, Thierrys, Broussards, Breaux, Comeaux et Doucets eating all the oyster loaf, Jambalaya, Cajun Stew, Dirty Rice, boiled shrimp and crawfish they could lay their ravenous mitts on during the course of the evening. As I was to find out, Remy spent his last night of freedom over to Tante Mattie's house in Slidell being forced to pray the Rosary and help her hem a skirt for the church's altar, Mattie being the one person both Guilds trust to keep the peace and all of our secrets, as well as being our spiritual conscience. She's also been the closest thing to a mother that Remy and I have ever known. Those two simply adore each other, so Remy is mighty patient with her, even when she pushes him into doing things he'd normally scoff at. Them lousy Thieves couldn't bring themselves to throw a stag party for Remy, so rather than be forced to pretend to be happy for him it was decided that it was best to have Mattie keep an eye on him...lest he decide to do a last minute runner to avoid the preacher's noose and, in the process, destroy the fragile peace pact.
This morning my big house was full of nothing but women; it felt...weird! I'm the woman around here; I have been since I was knee high to a duck. All the fussing and primping and hair-curling and perfuming---it just felt strange, yeah. I'm used to being the tomboy in a house surrounded by men...noisy, beer-swilling, rowdy, trouble-making men. Polite giggling, fluttering eyelashes and rouge just ain't my style, but I tried to be polite as my aunties, cousins and friends flitted around me like steel- plated butterflies, all elbows and painted fingernails and high-heels. All the time I wished that me and Remy could have just run off to Atlantic City or Las Vegas like other young folks in love, but the families wouldn't have stood for it. Everything had to be done according to ancient traditions. Hang tradition---I would have been happy marrying Remy on a riverboat cruise down the Mississippi and never coming back here. Ever.
Two petticoats, one hoop skirt, a bustle, a corset, a bustier, six yards of lace and organza and a ton of ribbons, pearls and sequins later, I was trussed up like a holiday pig and ready to walk down the center aisle of St. Martin Of Tours parish church. The organist was playing "I Love You Truly" slightly out of key here and there; poor little Mrs. Pajaud's eyesight ain't what it used to be, and neither are her arthritis-ridden fingers. The aunties and cousins were fussing around me like bees buzzing in a jar; I had to keep checking to make sure I wasn't fodder for a beehive, what with all the orange blossoms in my wedding bouquet and everywhere else. All the noise and fuss was grating on my one nerve because all I wanted was to be with Remy. I'd been hoping that he'd come to my window last night like he used to, just so that we could talk and he could assure me that everything would be all right, but he honored the superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding. Fine time for him to suddenly become conventional.
Once I'd shooed off my helpers, I took Gran'pere's arm inside the doors and looked ahead down the aisle to where Remy was standing. Gran'pere looked at me wistfully, but his face tightened when he saw me goo-goo eying Remy. "I didn't want to give that boy your hand, petite fille," he sighed, "...but then, he's already had everything else, hasn't he? And don't deny it!" I was so surprised that I didn't have time to think up a denial! How did he know that Remy and I had been...that we'd...hmmmmm. Julien. Is there anywhere I can go without that bastard spying on me? I simply shrugged my grandfather's remark off and played stupid, choosing to examine the faces I could see inside the church. It was sure better than remaining under his watchful eye as he viewed me squirming. Finally, the wedding march began and Gran'pere took my arm to lead me inside, all to leave my girlhood giddiness behind for a life of uncertainty with a boy thief who possesses volatile, otherworldly powers. At the hand off, Gran'pere stared down his nose at Remy, visually threatening him to do right by me. Remy answered him by taking my hand as he stared him right back, defiantly proud, his full lips mouthing the simple phrase, "Elle est mon coeur."** Gran'pere's eyes fell to the floor in defeat at Remy's words of devotion; he shifted quietly behind me and out of my view. As Jean-Luc beamed with pride, Remy and I spoke our vows and became husband and wife. I could almost hear the icicles piling up in Hell over the sound of Gran'pere's teeth grinding.
Our wedding reception was a beautiful affair held in the Knights Of Peter Claver Hall which is on the property adjoining the church. The Knights acted as the honor guard at our wedding because the LeBeau men have been members for decades. To me, it's just a bunch of old coots dressed like Buffalo Soldiers, but they do good works in the community...plus their meetings are a good excuse to blow off the wives once a week. Several of the Black Chiefs of The Mardi Gras Indians were in attendance as well, on account of some of them are friends or relatives of Tante Mattie's, one is married to Jean-Luc's niece, Marie-Laure, and they all know and love Remy, who'd always loved to sit at their feet and listen to their stories for hours at a time. Add in all of the LeBeaus, Thibodeaux, Heberts, Georges, Dougets, Lapins and any of Remy's kin I missed and we had one packed meeting hall. I have to admit that it was fun seeing all of the different faces, colors and, in some cases, costumes that those in attendance wore; it was a fascinating mixture of so many of the cultures that make Louisiana unique. The one face which never appeared in the crowd? My brother Julien's. It hurt me that he couldn't bury the hatchet and wish me luck, but I supposed that he was off sulking somewhere plotting against the peace pact. I wish I'd been wrong.
For the Bride's Dance, the band played a valse mignon called "La Valse De Mon Vieux," a pretty little waltz written by an elderly gentleman to his wife of 35 years. I danced with my dear Gran'pere, who seemed to be trembling with nerves over losing me; I've never seen him close to tears before in my life. It was then that I knew how hard all of this had been on him: losing me to the LeBeau clan and losing control over the war between the Guilds at the same time. It was a hard day for him all around, but bless him, he tried so hard to be supportive of me. Today I learned how strong and honorable a man he could be and I've never been more proud of him.
As Jean-Luc stepped forward and asked to cut into our dance, Gran'pere bowed politely to him and put our hands together. At that moment, I finally felt the impact of our families coming together, an event that would have seemed impossible just a few months before. I saw Remy smiling with his hand over his heart at the sight of his new wife and his father waltzing together. For his part, Jean-Luc held me as tenderly as if I were a precious porcelain doll; he smiled down at me with the love of a proud father made happy by the addition of another daughter to his family. As the waltz ended, Jean-Luc beckoned Remy to join us out on the dance floor, and he strode over without hesitation...after acrobatically leaping over the wedding party table. You can take the boy out of the bayou, but you can't take the bayou out of the boy. I remember thinking just then that it was going to be easier to housetrain a puppy than to housetrain Jean-Luc's rough-and-tumble boy.
Remy bowed to both of our fathers and then took my hand in his own. While Jean-Luc signaled the band to play, Remy and I had already begun a dance to the music in our hearts. He was so handsome and gallant in his antique dress suit and sash; his face was full of light, as if being lit by a heavenly glow. He held me gently against his chest, so full of pride and delight that his sweet, compassionate heart was nearly pounding out a beat to rival the frattoir and drums of the band. I pressed my head against his chest for a moment, and as I looked beyond us I could see the reflections of the crystals on my tiara shimmering like tiny, glowing angels against our wedding guests who stood cheering and smiling around us as they watched us dance. Remy marveled at the reflection of the tiara as well; he then leaned down to kiss me in an embrace so full of zest that it made me swoon. I backed up slightly to catch my breath and to look into Remy's eyes; those tortured windows to his soul had never looked so filled with joy or so satisfied. Any hesitation or fear of a commitment to this marriage was gone; there was only contentment reflected in them. I embraced my old friend and new husband again as the scent of his cologne made me giddy with its sensuous aroma. The world was a perfect place for that moment, and just then I felt as if I were floating on a cloud, viewing this heavenly scene from on high. A moment later, that view changed and became frozen in time.
A thud. A gasp. A gurgling sound. The room suddenly went hushed. Someone screamed. I think it might have been my scream, but I'm not sure. I thought it had caught in my throat, the sudden fear choking me silent. Then I saw my face reflected in Remy's eyes as they opened wide with confusion; they pleaded with me to tell them what had happened wasn't true. Over the rise of the other noises surrounding us, Remy's pained voice called to me in a whisper, "Belle...?" just as he dropped to his knees. It was then that I saw it: the arrow. Its shaft and feather flights protruded from Remy's back, a small pool of blood spreading slowly across the circle of clothing pinned against his skin where the arrow had entered. Over the sounds of screeching and crying, the booming voice of my brother cackled from the entrance way to the hall as he waved his hands above his head, one in which rested his spent bow. "Remy LeBeau, I send you back to Hell, thief! Death to the Thieves and to the pact!" With a roar of car and motorcycle engines, Julien and his accomplices were gone in a flash as the hall took on a deadly silence.
Jean-Luc and Henri ran to us as I bent down over Remy. Following Julien's pronouncement, he had collapsed onto his side on the floor, a single, icy tear running down his cheek. Brushing Remy's hair out of his haunted eyes, I tried to find words to encourage him, but I could barely manage more than scattered pleas for help to those around us. More than anything, I wanted someone to tell me that this wasn't true, that none of this was happening and that Remy and I were still dancing, kissing and holding each other close. And Remy? I realized just then that he was still holding my hand to comfort me, more concerned for my security than his own. Placing my hand into his father's, he squeaked out, "Take care of Belle, Papa," in a raspy voice. "Take her away and don't let her see this."
Jean-Luc nodded sadly and tried to guide me away, but I waved him off. No way was I leaving my loving husband's side with him in that condition. I grabbed the pillow on which the wedding bands had rested, placing it under Remy's head, and as I did I saw a shadow fall across our faces. When I looked above us, I recognized the source of that looming darkness: Gran'pere. For the first time in my life, the sight of him sickened me. He had raised me and Julien to hate---to hate the Thieves and anyone who stood in our way. The hatred he'd fostered had brought us to this horrible moment in time, and Remy and I were left to pay the price for nearly three hundred years of strife between the Guilds. I'd like to believe that in that moment even Gran'pere realized that the cost was far too dear.
By then, Tante Mattie, a healer renowned for her curative abilities, was already trying to make Remy comfortable, keeping him calm as Jean-Luc urged our guests to stand back to give Remy room to breathe. Henri and some of the cousins carried Remy ever-so-carefully to a nearby table which had been cleared for them. Mattie instructed them on how to handle the arrow from the shaft to end, just as I saw Henri trying to sever the lodestone which had forced its way through Remy's chest and come to rest where it had punctured a hole through his shirt. It was then that I matched the place where it had exited his body to the thud I'd felt against my shoulder as we were dancing. Reaching up, I touched that area near my collar bone and felt a nick which had dribbled a small stream of blood onto my corsage and dress. It was a gruesome vision of blood red against the purity of my antique white gown and orange blossom corsage. Before we'd even spent a night as man and wife, Remy's blood had mixed with mine in the most cruel way possible.
I've been back here in my room for hours now, tears filling my eyes every time I think back to these events of the day. Tante Mattie said it would be touch and go with Remy for a few days; he was feverish and pale when they finally forced me to leave him late tonight. Gran'pere brought me back home and begged me to try to get some sleep, but, as you can see, I can't get no rest. Whenever I close my eyes, I see that look of horror on Remy's face as his eyes searched mine for an answer to what had happened. How can I sleep knowing that he's suffering, all because of my family? Gran'pere posted guards around the house to ward off any trouble tonight. He ain't worried about the Thieves retaliating; Jean-Luc promised to keep them in line in honor of the pact. Gran'pere is worried about Julien coming back to crow about his dirty deed and to seek revenge on him for siding with the Thieves. He don't need to worry, no, because if Julien comes anywhere near this house, he'll have Bella Donna LeBeau to reckon with. My brother won't live long enough to spit if he sets one foot on this property again, as God is my witness.
This has been a long entry, I know, Diary, and I'm going to close now. The tears are flowing again; I feel as if they'll never stop. Until I return, you please to take care of my orange blossom and lace corsage. I wish for anything that I could change what happened today, just as I wish that this pretty little ribbon hadn't been stained with blood. It will forever be a reminder of the wrong that was done to Remy and of my perfect day that turned into my worst nightmare.