The best news of all came from a visit to Ninette’s oncologist, Dr. Felicia Gilbert.
“Negative,” Dr. Gilbert told Ninette’s family. “Every test.”
The Crozats fell into each other’s arms and breathed a collective sigh of relief. “But then what was wrong with me?” Ninette asked.
“There was no evidence of an infection, so I’m going to write off the fever and high white count as the result of stress you’ve been under, especially since your numbers are normal and appear to have stabilized. The night sweats are something else. You’re menopausal, Ninette. And given the intensity of those sweats, you might be in for a rough ride.”
“Given the alternative, I’ll take it.” Ninette grinned. Maggie hadn’t seen a smile that big on her mother’s face in a long time. The family would never be free of worry about Ninette’s health, but Dr. Gilbert had given them a respite from it.
With life at Crozat running relatively smoothly once again, Maggie could return to her art. But first . . .
*
It was early afternoon, and the light offered the first golden glint of autumn. Two easels stood side by side on the lawn next to the parterre. Tubes of oil paint covered a small table between them.
“They’re arranged by color and shades within each color,” Maggie explained to Xander, who nodded, his brow furrowed as he concentrated on the tubes of paints. She was finally making good on her promise to give the boy an art lesson. Bo napped on a blanket next to them while Gopher rested his head on Xander’s feet. “But if you want to mix your own shade of a color, you can. Would you like to try that?”
Xander nodded yes. He picked up a few tubes with his slim little fingers and squeezed dollops onto the palette Maggie had given him. Maggie added a big blob of white. “You can make a ton of color shades just by adding a little or a lot of white,” she explained. Xander stared at the paints and then started carefully mixing some colors, adding a touch blue, a drip of yellow, a bit more white. When he was satisfied with the result, he showed it to Maggie, who stared at the palette, mesmerized.
“Wow, just . . . wow,” she sputtered.
Xander had created a shade of green that was extraordinary.
The boy then picked up tubes of yellow and blue and mixed them. He did the same with a range of other colors until his palette was a phantasmagorical rainbow. Maggie watched, amazed. How could a boy who wouldn’t eat his hot dog because the mustard and ketchup touched mix the most beautiful, otherworldly colors that she had ever seen?
Xander stopped and looked at her for approval. “Wow,” she said again. “Xander, those are just . . . gorgeous. Okay, so, let’s paint. I thought it would be fun to try and do the vegetable garden and chicken yard. Do you like that idea?”
Xander nodded and began painting. Maggie picked up a brush but put it down to watch Xander put his vision on canvas. He had a child’s surreal view, but it was coupled with an attention to detail that seemed channeled from another realm.
Xander’s hour lesson turned into the whole afternoon, which bled into early evening. The young boy finished his painting and wandered off to feed the chickens, followed as always by his canine shadow, Gopher. Bo roused himself from his nap with a yawn. “Has it been an hour yet?” he asked.
“It’s been four hours,” Maggie answered.
“What?” Bo jumped to his feet. “I didn’t mean to pass out.” He glanced at the finished canvas on the easel. “Hey, you’re really good.”
“That’s not mine. That’s your son’s.” Maggie pointed to Xander.
“Huh?” Bo rubbed his eyes. “Are you telling me Xander did this? Seven-year-old Xander?”
“Yes. He’s got a gift, Bo. Whether it’s from God or the universe or genetics, I don’t know. But wherever it’s from, it’s magical and special, and I want to help him.”
Bo ran his hands through his thick black hair as he tried to process what Maggie was telling him. “Yes. Sure. Do whatever you have to. I just want him to be happy. And feel good about himself. He needs that. He deserves it.”
Bo walked over to his son, picked him up, and carried him back to where Maggie was standing. “Wanna get something to eat?” he asked Xander, who nodded yes. “You wanna come with?” Bo asked Maggie, who shook her head no.
“You two go. I’ve got something I need to do.”
“Okay.” Bo rubbed noses with Xander, who gave a slight smile. “Do me a favor, buddy, go wait by the car. I’ll be right there.” He put Xander down, and the boy ran off around the side of the main house to the front drive where Bo had parked. Bo turned to Maggie. “Not to be crass and inartistic or anything, but the more lessons you give him, the more I get to see you in a way that even Ru can’t have a fit about.”
“I was so busy obsessing about Xander’s talent that I didn’t even think of that,” Maggie said. “But yes. Yay!”
Bo laughed. Then he bent his head down close to Maggie’s and kissed her. It was a kiss as soft and warm and electric as any she’d ever experienced or even fantasized about. Maggie shuddered. But this time, in a good way.
Bo held a finger to her lips and she nodded. The kiss, as well as any that followed, would be their secret . . . for now. No sense in poking the odious bear that was Rufus.
Bo disappeared into the darkness and Maggie soon heard the sound of his car driving away from Crozat. Then she turned back to the canvas on her easel and began sketching. She continued through the night, and when dawn broke, she transported her canvas and art supplies down to her special spot by the bayou, where she painted quickly and fiercely.
When Maggie was done, she eyed the result with a serenity that she hadn’t felt as an artist for a very long time. The painting depicted the languid bayou scene, but with a heightened photo-realism. Beyond that, an inquisitive art aficionado would discover something else—the silhouette of a man. Some would argue it wasn’t even there, that it was the mind playing tricks on the viewer. This was the artist’s intention—to imbue her work with a bit of sensual mystery.
She lay down and rested her head on a thicket of moss. “I know now,” she thought to herself. “I know why I came home.”
Then she smiled, closed her eyes, and with the soft Louisiana morning air as her blanket, Maggie fell asleep.
Crawfish Crozat
Ninette’s signature dish is deceptively simple, but for a good reason. While many recipes bury the crawfish in heavy cream sauces, Ninette’s is designed to let its delicious flavor dominate.
Ingredients
1 lb. peeled and cooked crawfish tails
1 cup okra, thinly sliced
1 red pepper, diced
1 lb. regular or whole wheat penne
4 tbsp. olive oil
3 minced garlic cloves
½ tsp. sea salt
½ tsp. paprika
¼ tsp. cayenne pepper (subtract or add more, depending on your taste for spicy)
¼ tsp. ground gumbo filé
½ tsp. garlic powder
½ tsp. onion powder
¼ tsp. thyme
¼ tsp. black pepper
2 tsp. Cajun seasoning, any brand
(Note: if your Cajun seasoning has salt, you may want to reduce the ½ tsp. sea salt. You can always add more if you feel it’s needed.)
Instructions
Mix the salt, paprika, cayenne pepper, filé, garlic powder, onion powder, black pepper, thyme, and Cajun seasoning together in a small bowl.
Warm two tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet on a medium flame, and add the okra and red pepper. Cook until softened, about five minutes. Turn off the heat and add the crawfish; stir so it absorbs some of the vegetable’s warmth.