Hidden Jewel

'Wasn't in the mood,' he said.

'Don't you have a girl, Jack?' I asked. I couldn't see his face when he turned to me, but I suspected that he was smiling.

'I've had a few girlfriends, but no one serious.'

'Why not?'

'That's just it,' he said, 'no one's serious. Most of the girls I've met are . . .'

'What?' I asked, intrigued.

'Airheads,' he said, and I laughed.

'Bart says a woman doesn't need much in her head to get by with a man, but that's not the kind of woman I want,' he continued.

We returned to the dining room, where he set down the lantern and began to unpack the carton. Everything was neatly wrapped in tinfoil. He poured me a glass of water.

'Thank you, Jack.' The water was cold and very refreshing. I drank it quickly.

'More?'

'Not right now, thanks,' I said. In the glow of the lantern, his face looked shiny but soft, and his eyes twinkled. 'What kind of a woman do you want, Jack?'

'Someone who can talk to me about important things, a companion, not just a. . .'

'Just a what?'

'Just a woman,' he replied, turning back to his carton. 'I brought a little Sterno stove to warm up the sauce. My grandmere's recipe: three cups of home-made mayonnaise, six drops of Tabasco, four tablespoons of lemon juice, one-half cup of capers, one teaspoon of caper liquid, and two tablespoons of dry mustard.'

'Sounds wonderful. I'm not much of a cook, I'm afraid. We have a cook at home, had a cook all my life.' He didn't say anything. 'Do you think I'm a spoiled rich girl, Jack?'

'You don't seem spoiled,' he said. 'I've net spoiled girls, spoiled airheads.' He gazed at me and shook his head. 'You're not like any of them.'

'Thanks. Can I do anything?'

'You can. Here,' he said taking out a tablecloth, napkins, and silverware. 'Set the table.'

'Yes, sir,' I said.

Jack found a serving table on wheels and used it to prepare our food. He produced two light blue candles and candle holders. After placing them at the center of the table, he lit them. They didn't add that much light, but it was a warmer glow. I set out the plates and the glasses, and Jack took out his homemade wine.

'Okay, mademoiselle, you may sit down now.' After I did so;-he poured the wine. 'I hope this meets mademoiselle's expectations. It's vintage 1950.'

I laughed and tasted it. 'Very good, monsieur. My compliments.'

'Merci, mademoiselle. And now the star of our show.' He took my plate and prepared my entree. Then he prepared his own and sat down next to me.

'It looks fantastic,' I said. He had served some green beans and corn with the fish.

'I'm sorry there's no bread.'

'We'll make do,' I replied.

He smiled and reached for his glass of wine. 'Shall we make a toast?'

'Yes.'

'To the storm.'

'The storm?'

'Which caused us to dine together tonight.' We clinked glasses. 'Which only proves the saying that out of something bad, something good must come to those who wait and endure.'

I felt the warmth from the wine, but I also felt a warmth coming from my heart.

'Let's eat,' he declared.

Maybe because of the circumstances, because the tension and excitement had been so draining, I had a ravenous appetite. It was the most delicious meal I had had in a long time. As we ate, Jack told me more about himself and his family. His mother had been sick most of her adult life, suffering from diabetes. So his grandmere did most of the cooking and house-work. He had grown up in the bayou and rarely left, only to go to New Orleans and once to go to Dallas with the family to see relatives, and once on a family vacation to Clearwater, Florida.

'I suppose my life's been very simple compared to what you've done and seen,' he said. 'I'm not what you would call sophisticated.'

'Your life might be simple, as you put it, but you're not simple, Jack. Most of the so-called sophisticated young men I've known couldn't hold a candle to you,' I added, perhaps with more energy than I intended, but after my third glass of homemade wine, my tongue felt loose and my thoughts free. Even in the low candlelight, I could see Jack blush and look happy. He softly laughed and flashed me a pleased look.

We continued to eat slowly, and whenever I lifted my eyes, they met his. Sometimes those eyes seemed to have the candle flame burning within them.

'I'm sorry I have no coffee or dessert,' he said in a voice close to a whisper.