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"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."
"Mori, 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 housework. 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.
"That's all right. I've eaten more than I thought I would."
"You have, haven't you?" he said, nodding at my empty plate. I had scooped up even the last drop of sauce.
"Very unladylike," I said, shaking my head. "A proper young lady always leaves something on her plate."
"Oh, really? Well, I guess I ain't never met no proper young lady," he replied, imitating some swamp rat. "I've known women who ate the plate."
I threw my head back and laughed. Then I leaned forward. He was laughing, too, and he leaned toward me. We brought our foreheads together gently and Jack kissed the tip of my nose. Our eyes locked again. My heart beat softly, but I felt warm blood flood my cheeks and my neck. Was it the wine?
"Should we clean up?" I asked softly.
"Clean up. Oh, no, mademoiselle. We have servants to do that. Please. Let me escort you to the parlor," he said, standing and offering his arm. I rose. "Perhaps we should take along our homemade wine." He seized the neck of the bottle and our two glasses. Then he blew out the candles and I took the lantern. We returned to the sitting room.
Although the storm had passed, there was a lingering drizzle. It made a gentle pitter-patter on the pane. Lightning still flashed in the distance, each streak turning the pitch-black sky flame-red for a split second. I fixed my gaze on it while Jack poured us each another glass of wine.
"I hope everything's all right back in New Orleans," I said.
"Don't lose hope." Jack handed me my wine, and I sipped it slowly. Then I relaxed and let my head fall back against the settee. Jack stood there gazing down at me. When I looked up at him, I saw far more than simple concern and worry in his eyes. What I saw made my heart stir and then thump. Could it be that there really was something called love at first sight? His eyes were pools of desire, which made me aware of my own ravenous need for romantic fulfillment. These sensations made me feel guilty. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. When I opened them, Jack was at my side, taking my hand.
"Are you okay?"
"Just tired, I guess," I replied.
