Savannah cleared her throat, put the sad thoughts behind her and continued. “This is the inspiration for the tale of Evangeline. When you leave, be sure and walk through the park along the banks of Bayou Teche and see the great oak where legend says Evangeline was reunited with her long lost lover, Gabriel.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem was an inspiration for many Cajun people. It had become ingrained in their history and now, many didn’t realize it wasn’t fact, but loosely based on the sad lives of another couple, Emmeline Labiche and Louis Arceneaux.
Another bout of feminine groaning and sighing forced Savannah to glance at the soldier whose very presence was playing havoc with her presentation. Oh well, there were some things you just couldn’t fight and one of them was animal magnetism. At least she could get the group outside before they created a scene. Giving them over to Professor March with instructions to visit the eternal flame in the garden, she decided to see who else might need her attention. Glancing arund, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to the Wall of Names where Gorgeous was still working away. Lord, she was as bad as the girls.
“Come on, Savannah. Take a chance. I dare you. Go over and ask him out to lunch.”
Savannah jumped for the second time in an hour. She was caught. “I didn’t know you were here, Tam. I figured after four margaritas and three wine coolers you’d be in bed till tomorrow.”
“No way. Nana Fontenot said today was the day you’d meet - and I quote – ‘the warrior who will be your husband’. And that alpha male in camouflage, my dear friend, is a warrior in anybody’s book. If that marine isn’t your destiny, I’ll eat my Dooney and Bourke purse doused with Tobasco Sauce.”
“You’d better marinate it for a while. I’m afraid it’s gonna be a little chewy.” Good grief, she had forgotten about the old soothsayer’s prediction. As much respect as Savannah had for other people’s beliefs, she didn’t give much credence to the idea she would meet her future husband today. Although . . . if she had a choice, the man they were staring at would fulfill all of her dreams.
“I double-dog dare you.” Tammany wasn’t going to give up.
“Double-dog? Is the number of dogs involved supposed to make me want to do this more?”
“No, it’s supposed to shame you into doing it. Now, get over there and make him want you!”
She couldn’t believe the other woman was suggesting that she just stroll over there and proposition him. As much as she wished she could pull it off, the whole idea was totally ridiculous. He would say ‘no;’ that was a forgone conclusion. Even if she were a normal girl, she didn’t have what it would take to attract a man like him. “You must believe in miracles.”
“Yes, and I also believe in magic.”
Her friend sounded so certain. Of course, they were just work friends. Tammany had no idea about her past. So far, no one at the Center knew about Carville except her bosses. Mr. Randolph had acted sort of shocked, but he had kept it in strict confidence. And Mr. Davis, her main boss, had said it didn’t matter one whit to him. He had a brother with AIDS so he was sympathetic to such things and how such a devastating diagnosis could affect the family. In many ways, AIDS was the new leprosy; both were misunderstood diseases. A little tremble of apprehension washed over Savannah; the whole idea of asking a man for his attention sent her into nervous dithers. “You know I respect Nana Fontenot. But in this case, she must have gotten her magical wires crossed.”
“Nana Fontenot is never wrong,” Tammany insisted as she stretched her lithe body and yawned, causing one bespectacled gentleman to stump his toe on the concete floor as he appreciated her curvy body. “That little hoodoo woman has predicted more marriages, births and deaths than the weather channel has rain storms. Hell, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. So, what are you waiting for? Go get him. He’s yours – Nana Fontenot said so.”
Closing her eyes, Savannah took a deep breath and calmed her nerves. Tammany only had her best interest at heart. Glancing at her friend, she was amused to realize that she had come to town in her sleeping clothes. The camisole and shorts were what she had worn to bed the night before. Of course, Tammany could get away with it. She looked sexy in anything. After their night at Mulate’s, all three friends who had attended her birthday dinner capped off the evening with ice cream sundaes and cake on the Benoit’s houseboat. It had turned into a slumber party, but Savannah had slipped away early because of her work schedule.
They had all met through the Culture Center - either as volunteers, coworkers or benefactors. Tammany Benoit, Francesca Leger, and Cato Vincent were beautiful, popular, and self-assured; everything that Savannah Doucet was not. But that hadn’t seemed to matter to them, they always treated her as if she were one of them – and she was. Tammany had seen to that.
Tammany had been her first real friend. Friends had been hard to come by for Savannah. No matter where she had lived or what school she had gone to, it hadn’t been long before everyone would know and be talking about her stigma. The circumstances of her birth were recorded in her medical file and the fact
