The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(48)
She reached out. “I’m Alice Augustine and that’s why I’m here.”
The next song started and Alice let herself get lost in the music, focusing on Al’s hands holding hers and every now and then, his dark eyes. It was the one night of the year where she could enjoy being with a lot of people and not worry what anyone thought of her. The whole town was out dancing, whether they were locals or tourists, from across the river in the industrial wasteland or ten feet from a historic building.
As the song faded away, Al took her hand one more time. “I gotta go get ready, but I saw you, and you were so pretty, I just needed to have one dance.”
Alice couldn’t help the smile on her face. She didn’t need anyone fawning over her, but it was nice to hear. After dating Eric, she’d forgotten what it felt like it be admired, instead of picked on.
Al took a card out of his back pocket and held it out it to her. “If you want, you can give me a call. I’m not far away in Shreveport. I’d be happy to drive down for lunch, or just to set a spell and talk.”
She took the card. “Thanks, Al.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever call but she liked his ways, confident and polite. The farther she got away from her time with Eric, the more she realized that what she thought was Eric’s self-confidence was actually arrogance.
Al grinned and left the stage, heading for the back of the bandstand. She watched him go, admiring the length of his stride and the easy grace of his steps.
There was the sound of a throat being cleared behind her and Alice knew who she’d see before she turned around. Paul stood there, dark eyes unsure, his hands at his sides as if he didn’t know where to put them. She felt her mouth drop open in surprise. After what had happened that morning, she hadn’t thought he would seek her out again and certainly not in public. She wanted to remind him of what a small town it was and how most of the locals were probably already discussing their relationship, but part of her really didn’t want to talk about it right then.
“Bonswe, misye,” she said with a smile.
And to her surprise, he answered back, “Bonswe, manzell.”
She was going to say that it was nice he’d learned a few phrases for the festival when he went on, as fluent as Mr. Perrault had ever been. “It’s been a long time and I wasn’t a good dancer to begin with, but …” He held out his hands. “Would you like to dance?”
Alice didn’t move for a second as her brain processed his words. She looked up at the handsome man with dark hair and the soft accent, feeling her idea of him shift and tilt. Paul, who had left Natchitoches for New York City and never looked back, was as much a child of Cane River as she was, right down to the Louisiana Creole language that was dying out with every passing year. Alice reached out and took his hands.
Chapter Fourteen
The technology that threatens to kill off books as we know them - the 'physical book,' a new phrase in our language - is also making the physical book capable of being more beautiful than books have been since the middle ages.―Art Spiegelman
“I waved to Bix but he didn’t respond. Did I do something to offend him?” Paul asked. He glanced over Alice’s head toward the chairs set up in the grass for spectators.
Alice took a moment to process the words. She’d never really noticed what a wonderful voice Paul had. Sometimes she spoke Cajun French with tourists from other parts of Louisiana, and sometimes French with tourists from Europe. But it had been a long time since she’d spoken Creole with someone she didn’t know very well. It felt strangely foreign and absurdly familiar all at the same time.
“Oh, he has terrible eye-sight. Both far and near. The only reason he spoke to you that day was because he recognized the portfolio when he passed you on the bench. He knows those books like his children. It’s so hard for him to live without reading, but at least he can help in the store.” She knew she was talking too much but he was still holding her hands and it was disconcerting. The band was playing a few chords, waiting for the singer to decide on a song.
“I see.” He frowned. “He can’t use an e-reader? Or a double screen?”
Alice shook her head. Paul said the words e-reader and screen in English. For a moment she wondered if their language had any words for current technology. She certainly didn’t know. “He doesn’t have one. And I’m not sure what a double screen is.”
He opened his mouth to explain but the first few bars of the next song interrupted him. “We’re gonna take requests for our next song. What do all y’all wanna hear?” the band leader called. The dancers responded with several suggestions and the band chose the song of a middle aged lady near the front of the stage, wearing a red-check Western shirt.
Alice said, “Well, if you really can’t dance, we’d better go over the basics, no?”
“I’ll be your eager student,” he said, and winked.
Alice felt heat flash through her and she dropped her gaze. Paul was good at making women like him, that was for sure. It was an undeniable fact. She jumped into rapid-fire directions to cover her confusion. “Step to the left and back, that’s water and seasoning. Then step backwards and then forward, your left leg and my left leg. That’s the meat and the roux.”
They practiced a few times as the band warmed up and then she said, “Now we need the gumbo, so put your right hand around my waist, and keep holding my left hand. Let’s try it all together.” Alice focused only on the steps, not on the man in front of her. She tried to block out how close he was. He smelled wonderful, and he still carried the undeniable scent of old books.