I GOT RHYTHM
Luc rang the bell at precisely 6:45 p.m. Katie noticed because it was the first time she remembered his being on time for anything. Before she opened the door, she gave Mam a stern look. “Remember, nothing to him about Dexter.”
Mam pretended to lock her lips.
Katie opened the door and caught her breath. Luc wore a three-piece gray suit with a gray flannel fedora. “You look like Cary Grant.”
“I feel like Cary Grant. You look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you, Katie.” He handed her a single red rose, then lifted her hands. “Turn around.”
It had been a long time since a man complimented her and it felt authentic. For all his niceties, she realized, Dexter had done a number on her self-esteem. Maybe even more than getting dumped publicly in New Orleans’ society.
Luc whistled. “It’s not polite to show up the bride. She’ll be nervous enough, marrying my brother tomorrow.”
Katie wore a vintage-inspired green silk taffeta cocktail dress with a sweetheart neckline, gathered bodice, and cinched waistline, with a graduated veil of green crinoline over the backside, like a fitted bustle. She’d paired her new earrings with a green rhinestone necklace of Mam’s. No one would ever be the wiser, with Luc on her arm. They’d think she could afford whatever baubles Jem carried in his shop.
“Stand there for a picture,” Mam directed them.
Now that Mam knew where the ring had been all this time, and why Luc possessed it, her countenance had changed.
Luc was apparently restored to her good graces. Katie only hoped Luc proved worthy of Mam’s trust, now that Dexter had bailed from the race.
“We’re off. I’ll have her home by midnight,” Luc called out to Mam. “Don’t want her shoes to turn into a pumpkin or— what is it?” His gaze fell on her feet, and he whistled again. “Those are hot. Not the ones you’re getting married in.”
“No, these are my swing shoes.”
They were nude in color, so they made her legs go on forever, with a small champagne-colored ruffle around the back of the heel and a Mary Jane strap so they didn’t fly off when she danced.
“I thought Dexter didn’t dance.”
“He doesn’t,” she said. She tapped her way down the steps and crossed the brick path to Luc’s waiting limousine. Leon was out of his band uniform and in his driving suit. “What will you wear tomorrow?” she asked him.
“Whatever Mr. DeForges tells me to. You look fine tonight, Miss Katie. Mighty fine.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Luc said, grabbing the doorframe. He climbed in beside her and slammed the door shut. Then he pressed the button, and Leon’s compartment magically disappeared.
“That was rude.”
“Boundaries, Katie. You don’t check out your boss’s date.”
“Are you jealous?” she asked, feeling uncharacteristically flirtatious. She leaned toward him, and he refused to look at her.
“I’m not sure I like this dame. She’s got attitude. Loads of it. What’s different about you?”
She giggled and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “Luc, I’m—the thing is—Dexter—”
“Is on a plane headed home, and you dumped his smarmy self. I know. I wondered how long it would take you to come clean.”
“How did you know?” She sat upright and leaned against her door.
“Katie, I don’t miss a lot.”
She pouted.
“Especially when it pertains to the woman I love.”
“Don’t.” She placed a hand on his arm. “No pressure tonight, all right? Let’s simply have fun.”
“Done.”
The rehearsal dinner was held at the Commander’s Palace, a five-star restaurant for old money on Washington Avenue near the streetcar. The restaurant endured, a staple of New Orleans cuisine since shortly after the Civil War. Katie had never before entered its hallowed halls. Though she might have afforded such a dinner for a special occasion, that occasion had never presented itself. And if it had, most likely Mam would have cooked something special at home instead.
The limo pulled up into a line of fancy cars under the striped awning that surrounded the deep aqua Victorian with the bird’s-nest spire at its corner. Her nerves returned at the thought of getting out of the limo. She prayed she’d know which fork to use and the proper way to lay her linen napkin across her lap. Mrs. DeForges probably expected her to fail—the worst she could do was live up to the expectation.
The door opened, and Leon helped her out of the car.
Luc stayed alongside her as they followed a steady stream of guests into the building.
“What’s the matter, Katie?” he asked.
“Nothing, why?” Her voice shook.
“You’re squeezing my hand to the point of cutting off my circulation.”
She dropped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous, I guess. I suddenly realized we never practiced in front of an audience.”
“Just imagine them in their underwear. Isn’t that what they say?” Luc grasped her hand again. “You ever been here?”
Amidst all the beaded gowns and tight, dewy skin, Katie felt like a lone orange in the apple cart. “No.”
“Don’t worry. Once this crowd is plowed with wine, they’ll seem no different from the drunks in the Barrelhouse. Besides, that’s tomorrow. Tonight we dance, right? God has made everything beautiful in his time, no?”
“Yes.”
As they entered she nearly expected to be announced, like they did with all the princesses in the movies. Luc raised her wrap from her shoulders and handed it to a coat girl in exchange for a ticket.
Katie wondered if her Paddy could see her now, acting every bit the lady at Commander’s. What a laugh he’d have over her singing at a DeForges wedding.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I’m happy,” she answered.
“Good. You should be.”
Stepping inside the richly decorated private room, Katie gasped. “It’s amazing!”
Crystal drop chandeliers with candles hung from the ceiling, vintage silver “walls” were created from Victorian ceiling panels, black tablecloths and tiny white lights were draped everywhere, like magical stars from the night’s sky. The room had a long head table on a pedestal and several round tables below. Katie walked closer to the first table, anxious to see each tiny detail that Olivia and her mother had created for the silver screen look. She lifted a place card and read the name, then bent to smell the fresh rose scent of the white centerpiece.
“Luc, can you imagine? All of this for a rehearsal dinner!”
He flashed a condescending smile, and she stood upright.
“I wasn’t implying—”
“No, I understand,” he said, yanking his cuffs from underneath his suit. “Tonight. Remember?”
She felt her bottom lip tremble.
“Now, Katie, you’re the one who said this. We’re luggagefree tonight. No history. No baggage.”
She nodded. “I know. You’re right. But I really didn’t mean—”
“And whatever you imagined my face to say, it really didn’t mean—”
“Katie, Luc, you both look stunning!” Mrs. Tyler rubbed Katie’s back gently with the kind of warmth that only mothers seemed to possess. “Luc, you and Katie are up at the head table next to your mother. Katie and your mother were getting reacquainted at the shower. I thought it would be nice for them to have more time.”
Luc and Katie looked at one another and grinned.
“No, wait, I forgot. We moved you to make room for Olivia’s maid of honor. We didn’t figure you’d care. You’re down here at the round table with us.”
Katie breathed a sigh of relief. Although it seemed strange that the mother of the bride was on ground level, she wasn’t about to ask questions or stir up trouble where she didn’t need any. Mrs. DeForges was probably where she might do the least amount of damage and still feel the most important.
Katie mingled with the crowd, her dress making her feel as though she belonged. She chatted up strangers as if she was Ingrid Bergman on a binge in Notorious or Katharine Hepburn working the press in The Philadelphia Story.
Finally, worn out from her one-act play, she sat before the place card where her name was printed in careful script.
“I can’t wait to dance with you,” Luc growled into her ear. She turned her head as if his voice did nothing to her, when really she felt it to her toes.
“Relax. We still have dinner, speeches, and bread pudding to muddle through, and the dance floor hardly looks inhabitable.”
“Not here.”
She raised her brows. “Luc DeForges, if I’ve learned anything in my lifetime, it’s not to go anywhere unattended with you.”
“Jem and Eileen are coming too. I asked them.”
Dinner plodded along. Dishonest speeches were given. Warm family toasts were read from 3 x 5 cards. Luc’s dad was the last to speak, and he sat alongside Mrs. DeForges in a chillingly vertical stance, the life force seemingly drained from his body. Luc recognized it too, and he stood, apparently to make amends for his father’s lackluster speech. He tapped on his champagne flute with a fork.
“Excuse me, everyone. I’d like to make a toast.”
Katie loved that he spoke from a place of strength and virility, as if to say that the DeForges family line was solid and their commitment to New Orleans, and now to the Tylers, was everlasting.
“But before I do, I’d just like to clear up some confusion. I’m here with my beautiful date for the evening, Katie McKenna.”
There was a light round of applause.
“I’d like to congratulate my brother Ryan on selecting such a wonderful addition to our family. You’re not worthy of her, bro, but we’re thrilled to have you, Olivia. When you first knocked my brother over on roller skates, I never imagined I’d be standing here today. The emergency room, yes, but not here. You two bring out the best in each other. You have more fun than any couple I’ve ever seen, and I plan to be standing here toasting your fiftieth anniversary.”
Applause filled the room again.
“And if you’ll permit me one more thing. With the gracious permission of my brother and his beautiful bride, I’d also like to take this opportunity to announce my own engagement.”
Katie’s eyes went wide. She scanned the room for some blonde worthy of being Luc’s trophy wife, but she knew exactly what he was doing.
“That is, if she’ll have me.” He bent on one knee and opened her ring box.
“Luc, no. Not here,” she said through clenched teeth. “Fun, remember?”
“Katie McKenna, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? You’ve always been the only one for me, and it’s time you made an honest man out of me.”
She felt the heavy stares all around her and the heat flame in her face as cameras flashed. She stood and pushed the microphone down and whispered in his ear, “We said tonight. It was just going to be tonight, no history, no future.”
“You said tonight.” He nodded. “I’m asking for forever. I’m greedy that way. Check my bank account.”
The walls felt tight. The colors and faces swam together. She had decided to live her life without fear, but that didn’t mean she was ready for this. Where would they live? Would she lose her school? Would she just trade being Mrs. Hastings for being Mrs. DeForges and lose all her independence again? Her faith? She had a terrible habit of waiting for men to rescue her rather than relying on her own faith in God.
Luc blinked. His confident air seemed to falter.
“Excuse me,” she said, before she ran from the room. She didn’t even realize she’d offered him no answer until she was outside under the streetlight wondering which way to go. She heard voices—Leon’s, Eileen’s, Luc’s—calling her name.
“Katie!”
“Katie!”
“Katie!”
She whirled around and felt her heel drop into a crack on the sidewalk.
She heard Fred Astaire singing “Cheek to Cheek,” and she began to sway to the music. She wrapped her arms around him and recalled what it felt like to hear the music for the first time, to watch Fred Astaire dance on air and take Ginger in his arms with nary an effort, as if they’d both sprouted wings. The music soothed her, and her feet took small steps to the dance floor that appeared, white and empty, with only a single spotlight shining like an invitation. It was her moment, her chance to shine. She felt the luxurious ostrich feathers of Ginger Rogers’ gown, the smooth satin against her waist, and hummed along with Astaire. Out of the surrounding darkness Luc appeared, wearing a topcoat and tails and a smile. His magnificent, warm smile. His long, lean legs stepped toward her, and he whirled her into his arms. The warmth of his hand on her back caressed her and she inhaled the thick, clean scent of him, tasted the resonance in his voice as he sang, “Heaven . . . I’m in heaven . . .”
She rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead with all the grace of Fred Astaire and the strength of Burt Lancaster. He twirled her about the room, and she dared to look into his eyes. His ardent, deep blue eyes, which held years of memories and the spark of hope to a magical future.
God had created Luc DeForges just for her. His body next to hers—the perfect fit—the last piece of the puzzle that connected their lives, their families. Love appeared and filled in the space between the DeForgeses and the McKennas, Uptown and the Channel, Northern California and the South, 1945 to now . . .
“Kiss me, Luc. Kiss me like you’ve never kissed another soul.” But as she reached for the key that unlocked the secret, her vision became misty until it evaporated into thin air.
“Katie!”
She groaned. “My head.” Her forehead throbbed and her vision blurred. “I can’t see.”
Someone pulled her lace hat away. Her vision cleared. Feet surrounded her, and she recognized her peep-toe heels on Eileen.
“I’m on the ground,” she said—half statement, half question.
“You ran into that post.” Eileen banged on the solid block of wood. “You were like a chicken with its head cut off. You kept running, and we were all shouting your name. What were you thinking? Didn’t you hear everyone calling you?”
“Oh my goodness, what did I do?” She sat up, embarrassed, while Uptown guests waiting for their cars stared down at her. “Olivia! Did I ruin her night?”
“Olivia’s still inside dancing, having the time of her life,” Eileen reassured her. “She has no idea you’re out here splayed on the banquette. And your mam’s on her way. You were out cold, but I told them you’d done this before. Remember the time you walked into the post at Nordstrom?” Eileen giggled. “Girl, it’s like you got a magnet in your head sometimes. I know, it’s totally not funny, but one minute you’re up and the next . . . splat!”
“Ugh. Why didn’t you just kill me and put me out of my misery?”
“Because then I wouldn’t get to be maid of honor at your wedding.”
“Dexter went home, Eileen. It’s off.”
“You did hit your head. Your wedding to Luc, silly.”
“I’m not marrying Luc. He just did that so I could turn him down in front of everyone.”
“Katie, I don’t think he asked you for that reason.”
“I know he didn’t.” Jem reached down and helped her off the ground. “Katie, lean against the post.” He righted her and helped her straighten herself. “Luc asking you to marry him in front of everyone? That was real. He asked for permission from Ryan first, so as not to upstage the happy couple. He thought it was important to propose publicly, since he”— Jem cleared his throat—“well, since he rejected you publicly. But it turns out, now you’ve rejected him publicly. So you’re either terminally incompatible, or you’re even.”
“Where is he? Where is Luc?”
“He had an emergency.”
She rubbed her forehead and captured a small dab of blood on her palm.
“Mrs. DeForges will never forgive me. I’ve ruined another one of her parties.”
“Wait until she sees the paper with your unconscious self sprawled against a lamppost and the announcement that her son asked for your hand in marriage. That’s not going to be a fun breakfast table,” Eileen said.
“Oh, my head aches.” But Katie didn’t care about any of that. She wanted to know where Luc had gone. “Jem, if you see Luc, would you tell him I don’t hold him to anything. I’ve made a fool out of him again tonight. I know he needs a wife who can talk politics or the stock exchange, all while walking in heels. Tell him I’m sorry.”
“Unfortunately for Luc, he’s in love with you,” Jem said, rubbing her back.
“You are engaged,” Eileen said. “You have been engaged since the moment you laid eyes on Luc DeForges, and you can’t tell me otherwise. If you had ever talked to me about another living soul the way you do Luc, I could grant you some leeway, but the fact is, your heart has been engaged since the moment he walked into that bar.”
“Of all the gin joints . . .” Jem began, in his best Bogart voice.
“Even if Luc broke your heart a thousand times, another man didn’t stand a chance. He’s waited long enough, and so have we. Put us out of our misery already.”
If only she could.