Free Snow on the Bayou: A Tante Lulu Adventure by Sandra Hill Page A

to,” Mike said sadly.
    “But what about Bernie?”
Yep, diarrhea of the tongue.
    “Bernie? Bernie who?” Max’s brow was furrowed with puzzlement. Then he laughed. “Do you mean that dweeb Bernie Landry?”
    “Max,” Mike chided his brother. “Mom doesn’t likeus calling him that.” Mike turned to Cage then and said, “No, Bernie is not our father.”
    Dweeb? I like the sound of that.
He concentrated on making sure a smile didn’t emerge, before remarking, “But your mother married Bernie. I know she did.”
    “Our mother was never married,” both boys said.
    Now Cage was the one who was confused. “I don’t understand.”
    “Mom says we are the joyous result of a one-night stand,” Max elaborated. “And that’s all she’ll tell us.”
    “Impossible! Your mother is not the type to…” His words trailed off as he realized he was saying too much.
    Max put his hands on his hips. “Do you know our mother?”
    “You could say that.” Cage’s hesitation was telling.
    Mike and Max exchanged a glance, then turned as one to stare at him.
    “Are you our father?” Mike demanded.
    “Whaat? No. Of course not.”
Not unless you two are older than you look.
“How old are you guys?”
    “Thirteen,” they answered as one.
    “Then I am definitely not your father.”
    “Whoa, are you saying you did the deed with our mother?” Max asked. “Eew! That is gross.”
    “I think it’s cool. A Navy SEAL! Mom usually brings creeps home, like that biker dude last month, remember?” Mike said to his brother.
    A biker dude? Em with a biker dude? That’s like Mother Teresa with Howard Stern.
“This is very confusing.” Cage sighed and then asked the one thing he shouldn’t. “Where’s your mother? I need to talk to her.”
    “Mom won’t be here for an hour or so. Do you want to talk to our aunt? She’s back in her workshop.”
    “Aunt?” Cage asked dumbly. Em didn’t have any brothers or sisters. So how could the boys have an aunt?
    “Honorary aunt, sort of,” Mike elaborated.
    Then, instead of stepping back to the room, or rooms, behind the shop, Max let out with a holler, “Yo! Aunt Em. Someone wants to talk to you.”
    Aunt Em?
    Slowly, the gears in Cage’s brain began to move. Emerging into the doorway was Emelie Gaudet. Or was that Emelie Landry? She looked a little bit older, but just the same. Dark hair pulled back off her face into a high ponytail. A white coverall marked with new and old paint spatters, over a short-sleeved white T-shirt. No makeup.
    “Boys? You
called
?” she said, wagging a forefinger at Max and Mike, a gentle reminder that they weren’t supposed to shout in the shop. Then she glanced up, and did a double take. Her brown Cajun eyes went wide with shock before she whispered, a hand over her heart, “Justin?”
    For seventeen years, Cage had become the comedian of the teams. Always lighthearted. Always the one ready to share a joke or a beer. Always game for a new adventure… or a new woman. It was a ruse, of course, and not all that original. The clown covering his inner tears.
    So he tried for a bit of humor now, tipping his head at Em. “Honey, I’m home.”
    No one laughed. Least of all him.

    The years, and other things, melted away…
    Emelie stood frozen in the doorway.
    Justin LeBlanc was a man now, of course, but still shewould have recognized him anywhere. A bit taller. He had already reached six foot by his seventeenth birthday, but he appeared about six two or three now. The same lean frame, except his shoulders were wider, his waist narrower, and the muscle definition, visible through the T-shirt under his open windbreaker, was more defined. SEAL training, she assumed. One thing remained the same, though. The boy could fill out a pair of jeans nicely. Very nicely. His hair was military short, unlike the long hair he’d worn as a teenager—his rebel statement—but still attractive.
    Seventeen years! And Justin stood before her, staring at her in the