Blessings And Curses

By Lynn Shurr

Adrienne and Pete—is their love real or are they the victims of an old traitor’s love potion? Are they truly attracted to each other or have they been cursed to marry and be blessed with seven children? Only time will tell as they fulfill a prophecy during their tempestuous courtship and marriage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781613091821

Book preview

Blessings and Curses Teaser Scene

What They Are Saying About Blessings and Curses

Blessings and Curses Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapters

Meet Lynn Shurr

Works From The Pen Of Lynn Shurr

What They Are Saying About Blessings and Curses

Lynn Shurr stories have that distinctive Louisiana flavor…and make you eager for another taste.

Jeff Salter,

Author

Shurr is a wonderful storyteller.

The Romance Studio

Very easy reads, well written, combined with conflict, believable plots and secondary characters that make the story come alive.

Jane Lange, Romances,

Blessings and Curses

Lynn Shurr

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Romance Novel

Edited by: Joan Afman

Copy Edited by: Elizabeth Struble

Senior Editor: Leslie Hodges

Executive Editor: Marilyn Kapp

Cover Artist: Trisha FitzGerald

All rights reserved

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

Copyright © 2013 by Carla Hostetter

ISBN 978-1-61309-182-1

Published by Wings ePress, Inc. at Smashwords

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS 67114

Dedication

For Chere Destugue Coen who knows how to bring good gris-gris.

Prologue

"Stoney, you ever seen The Godfather?" he whispered in her ear, and then leaned back and loosed that wolfish grin on her. It brought out the deep, wicked dimple in his cheek. The glitter of that smile reached all the way to his dark brown eyes holding hers as if she were prey.

She wanted to say, Address me as Miss Stone or Call me Adrienne, but he never would. Pierre Pete Boniface Landry the Fourth did as he pleased. His nickname for her was ‘Stoney’, now and forever. Instead, she simply, answered, The movie?

Right. Remember that scene in the beginning where Sonny is boffing the bridesmaid in the bathroom? That’s always been a fantasy of mine. Meet you in half an hour upstairs, center bath.

Your fantasy, not mine.

It could be.

He let her alone to see to her post-wedding duties for the huge Hartz wedding: telling the caterer what to do with the wedding leftovers, paying the musicians, directing the florist about the disposition of the table arrangements. Most of all, she wanted to get out of her Vera Wang bridesmaid’s dress, lovely as it was, and put on some comfortable clothes.

Still, as soon as her obligations ended, she moved up the stairs and went directly to the center bathroom as if someone drew her there with an invisible string. The door slammed behind her. Pete crowded her up against its hard surface, his arms caging her on either side of her body.

It’s about time you got here. Don’t take off the bridesmaid dress. That part is important.

He ran his hands under her full skirt and deftly removed her fragile underwear, stroking over her hips, down her legs, and back up again. She breathed hard, and he pushed hard against her.

What’s this, a patch? Then, I won’t be needing these. Pete tossed a handful of condoms next to the sink.

You keep up on methods of birth control? Adrienne asked, combing her fingers through his beautiful, thick dark hair, as luxurious as a fine pelt.

That’s why they still call me Lucky Pierre. Very Lucky Pierre. You game, Stoney, because I am ready.

I’m game.

He thrust inside her using those dancer’s hips to set a scorching rhythm. Why him, why him, why him? she asked herself as her back thudded against the door. Why can’t I walk away from him? Some kind of inexplicable attraction, a Cajun voodoo love spell?

But all the while heat built between her legs until she thought her Vera Wang would go up in flames with the rest of her. She came with a shriek that Pete contained with a long, deep kiss. He did not stop.

I think someone is listening in the hall. She tried to caution him, but his reasoning had evaporated like steam from a hot bath.

Ask me if I give a damn.

Do you?

Only about you, Stoney. Only you.

One

Anita Romero, housekeeper for billionaire Jonathan Hartz and his bride, paused in the upstairs hallway of their stately Pecan Grove mansion. A rhythmic thumping sounded against the center bathroom door. The bumps came punctuated with small gasps and one quickly smothered shriek. Possibly, someone committed mayhem in that bathroom, and she should intervene, but she thought not. Despite the many years that had passed her by, Anita Romero still recognized the sounds of passion when she heard it. She had a fairly good idea who the lovers were—Pierre Boniface Landry the Fourth, Jonathan’s new brother-in-law and a devil with the ladies, and Adrienne Stone, personal assistant to Mr. Hartz and chilly as a Pacific Northwest winter—usually.

She supposed as housekeeper, she could make the decision about the leftover wedding cake herself without bothering or embarrassing Miss Stone. Quietly, Anita made her way down the elegant staircase. She stopped again on the bottom step and put a hand to her heart. She felt as if something inside of her were melting in the warm Louisiana air, something that had remained frozen in the chill and damp of Seattle where she’d lived the last twenty years of her life, something she’d last experienced in the arms of Reynaldo Cortez, that son of a whore.

Anita continued on to the industrial-sized kitchen with its stainless steel appliances and granite counters. The caterer had set the top of the Hartz wedding cake aside and waited to learn if he should take all of the rest to the homeless shelter or leave a portion for the family. Anita considered the matter. Mister Juan, as she liked to call her boss, now had a nine-year-old stepson, Dustin. Back in her native Mexican village, she also had a boy, not so young any more. But yes, if his mother had ever married, he would have wanted more cake the day after the ceremony.

"Leave the second layer for the family and take the rest, por favor." There, she’d made the decision. She doubted if Miss Stone, who had planned the big event, would object considering how she was spending the evening after the wedding with the bride and groom barely out the door for their honeymoon cruise to Belize.

Her eyes met those of the baker, LeJeune Pommier, as he boxed the uneaten petit fours and mini-napoleons. He wore a large white apron over his wedding shirt, but he had rolled up the sleeves to show his hairy arms. He was mucho macho, Anita thought. She liked a hairy man. They had shared one awkward dance at the reception, and she had done the asking. If only she could pronounce his name better. She settled on Mister Pom.

Mister Pom, you leave a box of those for the little boy, no?

Ah sure, Miss Anita. Suddenly fumble-fingered, LeJeune dropped a napoleon with a splat on the tile floor. He bent to wipe it up with a paper towel and jostled one of the servers returning to the kitchen with the remains of the roast beef and ham. LeJeune caught the ham butt like a football before it hit the floor. Anita applauded. The baker blushed under his heavy five o’clock shadow.

He is not so old, maybe forty-five, Anita assessed, and I am not so old, only forty. Then, she shook her head. What possessed her? Some kind of enchantment? She felt as if she inhaled love directly from the air, first emitted by Mr. Hartz as he married his lovely Celine today, and then from the passion escaping the upstairs bathroom and charging the atmosphere like an electric current. Maybe being in a warm place again where banana trees grew in tubs on the patio and tropical plants lined the breakfast room windows affected her hormones. Louisiana reminded her of her coastal village and of her youth. She gave a great sigh and began wrapping leftovers.

~ * ~

Anita Romero went to early mass the next morning. She stopped for hot beignets at Pommier’s Bakery immediately afterward. Mister Pom gave her a sack just for herself. He had been too busy with the after-church crowd to talk much, but politely listened to her amazement that the congregation had many Romeros and Seguras, but not one spoke Spanish.

The Spaniards that come here, they married Cajuns, so now they all Cajuns, he explained. Got some of that hot Spanish blood in me way back, too.

So, she replied coyly, If I marry a Cajun, then I will be Cajun, also?

"Mais oui, cher," said Mr. Pom giving her a big wink just before he turned to wait on a large woman in a floral dress, one of the Methodists who had breakfast before they went to the ten o’clock service.

Full of grace from Mass and happiness from her encounter with LeJeune Pommier, Anita returned to Pecan Grove, intending to take Miss Stone a tray in bed. The woman had worked herself into exhaustion preparing the wedding for her boss and deserved to be pampered a little bit.

The upstairs hallway had that same charged atmosphere as yesterday, however, only now the noises came from the master bath in Mister Juan’s suite. As the housekeeper knew very well, the master bath contained a tub big enough for two and if the bathers wanted to raise the blinds, a view over the gardens, cane fields, and down to Indian Lake in the distance. This Sunday morning, the sounds were of laughter and splashing and teasing.

Pete, you’re making a big mess. Stop that! A low growl followed the reprimand. You bit me. I can’t believe you bit me!

Anita placed the tray on the table by the window overlooking the pecan grove at the front of the house. The golden fabric from the wedding still hung in the trees. A crew would come to take it down on Monday, and the enchantment would be over. She might have felt sad if there had not been so much promise of love to come. She observed the sheets on the big canopied bed would need changing once the couple in the bathroom vacated the upper floor for the day.

If Mister Juan and Miss Celine were not such generous people, she would be worried about whether or not report all this, but they had given her the keys to Celine’s old red Toyota for her own use, and in her room next to the kitchen, she had satellite TV and could get Spanish language channels out of Texas and Mexico. She planned to spend the day with her feet up watching those channels. It hardly mattered what bathroom had to be cleaned or which bed had to be changed. All would be perfect when the bride and groom came home.

~ * ~

The lovers, refreshed from their frolic in the bath after being up all night slaking a strange passion that would not quit, walked through the pecan grove under the golden canopy and out the electronic gate installed in Jonathan’s fortress-like brick wall. Yes, she and Pierre were lovers, Adrienne Stone thought. They walked like lovers, bumping hips while Pete held her close with one arm around her waist. What they had been doing all night and half the morning was making love, though it could have been called by a cruder name. But were they in love?

Passion and attraction they had aplenty. She cocked her head to look at Pete as they moved toward her house, the old overseer’s place under renovation for her, Jonathan Hartz’s assistant. Pete stood a couple of inches taller than her five foot seven height. Now that his sister had disposed of his long hair and immense beard as part of the wedding preparations, he’d turned out to be a startlingly handsome man, even with the morning stubble that seemed to announce an intention to regrow the beard as quickly as possible.

Like many Cajuns, his hair was dark and thick, his complexion olive, and his eyes a deep, rich chocolate brown surrounded by long, thick lashes. He smiled wide, white and wolfish. His shaving had unearthed a dimple in his left cheek that she found irresistible. He possessed broad shoulders, a hairy chest, and narrow hips, and what he could do with those hips should be illegal, at least in the South. Pierre Landry could dance the night away and then make love till noon with no more ill effect than gaining a voracious appetite.

When they’d exited the bath and seen the tray by the window, Pete did not hesitate to bolt down the now cold beignets and lukewarm café au lait. She’d sipped the orange juice and watched him eat while she thought of how to explain herself to the housekeeper. The small breakfast intended for the lithe Miss Stone barely put a dent in her lover’s hunger. They dressed in jeans, old shirts and running shoes, and went to raid the Sub-Zero refrigerator of reception leftovers.

The caterer had left generous trays behind for the family before hauling the rest to the homeless shelter. In the time it took Adrienne to prepare a small plate of day-old sushi and sashimi and select a piece of fresh fruit from the bowl, Pete had thrown together two sandwiches, one ham, one rare roast beef, on the little bread loaves from the wedding buffet.

You know, he remarked, You should have let them have potato salad and boudin balls.

Adrienne rolled her eyes. She had strived for elegance, not down home comfort, and achieved it. All the noise Pete made roused Anita Romero from her room, but they waved her back to her shows without giving any explanation about last night or this morning.

The couple approached the back porch of the old overseer’s house. A simple extension of the roof created a porch to keep the sun off the living quarters and sheltered a lean-to kitchen. The front porch had white gingerbread trim and painted floorboards, but the back remained the rustic silver of old weathered cypress. Pete promised to hang a swing here for her during their long night of lovemaking. She would remind him if it slipped his mind. His sister, Celine, had volunteered to help her paint two wooden rockers a deep colonial green to match the metal roof for the front the house. The Landry family certainly was handy in so many ways.

Adrienne unlocked her new back door. The workmen would be off today, and this was a good chance to catch any errors or decide on changes. She had her HartzPad device in her hip pocket in case she needed to note anything. This part of the house was largely new except for the wide board floors which had been refinished and sealed. Pipes, wires, and conduits poked up through the floor where new appliances would rest. Windows had been added over the sink and by the dining area. The old whitewashed bousillage wall, the original back of the house, had been cleaned and repainted but otherwise left alone.

She and Pete stepped up into the body of the house with its four large rooms, thick walls and small windows. The two front rooms owned large brick fireplaces plastered over with a stucco finish. The rear spaces were roomy but simple. Dark wooden doors with high shelf-like lintels marked the entry to each chamber off the hall except for the right back bedroom which had no exit except through the front room. Jonathan thoughtfully added a staircase along that side of the hall up to the wide-beamed attic. A new guest bath fit under the stairs and a second bath rested above it in the now insulated and finished upper story previously accessible only from an outside staircase on the porch.

Adrienne led Pete into the rooms on the left of the house. This will be my sitting room and this, she opened the tall door to the back room, "My bedroom with the bathroom a step down. Jon wanted to put in a modern shower and bath, but I found this great, huge old claw-footed tub that fit the house perfectly. The workers had to bring it in before they finished the wall between the bath and the kitchen. And the pedestal sink—don’t you love the pedestal sink and the toilet with the wooden casing over the water tank? I added that little window with the wavy glass and the butterfly screen to let out the steam after a bath.

Sure, it reminds me of my great-grandmother’s house before my parents renovated the place.

Exactly. We had to add a lot of plumbing. Evidently, the overseers tended to use an outhouse until well into the twentieth century.

They stepped back into her bedroom to be. Tarps covered the floor to catch any drips from the molding being stained a deep brown to match the doors. Paint cans and a ladder sat in one corner.

My bed will sit here. I’ve ordered a queen-sized black iron headboard. It’s not an antique, of course, no queen-sized beds back then, and I like a large bed.

As do I. Does it have bars you can hang on to or tie up something?

Why, yes, of course.

He rewarded her with one of his great wolfish grins. The dimple in his cheek peeked out. She drew close and put the tip of her little finger in the dent. Tell me you aren’t going to cover this with a beard again?

It might be I could be bribed. Let’s see. Pete moved the ladder over a pile of tarps where her bed would sit. How about a test run?

He bent her over into the heap of rough fabric. Put your hands on these rungs and pretend you’re tied there. Don’t take them off.

He removed her shoes and slid off her jeans with the ease of a man who had a lot of practice. He unbuttoned her shirt and parted it to reveal a black lace bra with a front clasp. I’m in luck again. You’re already tied up, but I don’t have to cut off the bra. He unhooked the bra and nuzzled her small round breasts with their large pink nipples.

I really think you could use a shave already, she protested.

And I think these could be bigger, but I love them just the same. He let his tongue meander down her long, lean body till they came to the matching panties. He raised her hips with his long-fingered hands, removed the lace with his teeth, and lapped his way back up her legs. Massaging her hips, he felt the rough patch of the birth-control device she wore.

I’m loving this patch thing, too. Good-bye condoms. He sunk his face into the nest of black hair between her legs and did not come up for air until she cried out. He unzipped, plunged in, and kept going until she cried out again. He finished with a howl.

You can let go of the rungs now, Stoney, he said as he pulled her toward his chest.

I don’t think I can. All of my blood has gone elsewhere.

Ah, Stoney, you are the most game woman I have ever met. He tucked her into his shoulder and covered her naked body with a portion of a tarp. Then, he tucked himself in as well.

Adrienne sighed. I like to think other people have done this right here years and years ago.

You’d probably be wrong. The right front room would have belonged to the man and wife, the room behind them to the daughters. That’s why it has no exit except through the front room and no windows. No sneaking out, no climbing in.

So this would have been the boys’ room?

"Nope. They put the boys upstairs in the garconniere with their own staircase so they could go out and sow their wild oats and not disturb the family or track in any mud, whatever. This might have been the old folk’s room for the grandparents between a room with a big fireplace and the kitchen for warmth in the winter."

I’d like to grow old here, she said suddenly.

His chest tensed beneath her cheek. It’s just all that bayou water you’ve been drinking, Stoney. They say once you drink it, you never want to go away from Cajun country.

Yes, I heard that when Jon and I first came to Chapelle. I don’t think it’s the water keeping me around. Pete, have you ever thought of giving up your Crazy Pierre comedy act and going back into wildlife management? Celine said you have degrees in both wildlife management and biology.

And then you’d see even less of me. I may work weekends entertaining the tourists with my dancing and joking, but living in a ranger’s cabin in a state park broke up my first marriage.

Jon could find something for you to do. Have you considered asking him?

Stoney babe, I am not going to beg my new billionaire brother-in-law for a job. I do fine. I have my houseboat to live on rent free, no utility bills to pay. I don’t owe anybody.

But Jon owes you. You saved his life from that assassin at the banquet.

I did that for my sister to make up for trying to come between her and Jon. Just like you planned their wedding to atone for your interference in their courtship, those lies we both told.

Well, you got the best deal. It only took seconds to save Jon’s life. I went through nine weeks of hell to get that big wedding extravaganza together by his deadline.

You did a great job. He hugged her close again. I don’t know about you, but lying on these boards is getting uncomfortable. Let’s go back and rest on the geek meister’s kingly bed.

I wish you wouldn’t call Jonathan that. He is one of the world’s nicest men.

Gosh, I must have seen his dark side when he kicked me in the balls for breaking up him and Celine, not that I didn’t deserve it. Still, he’s got a great bed and bath and that long leather bench in front of the fireplace. We haven’t tried that out yet. Who would have thought the billionaire boy techno-wizard had an eye for the sensual pleasures in life.

We really shouldn’t be using the master suite.

Guess I could always move back to the houseboat, but we’ve only got the two weeks until the honeymooners return.

Adrienne considered the houseboat alternative, one giant bed with a very old mattress and a toilet seat nailed over a hole in a board. As I said, Jonathan has always been a very generous man. I suppose he won’t mind if we use the bench.

That’s my girl. Pierre helped her dress, always a pleasure.

Two

The family gathered at Pecan Grove to welcome the newlyweds home. Celine’s son, Dusty, rampaged through the house with his two lab puppies, Duke and Queenie, until his mawmaw, Aimee Landry, put them all outside to be supervised by her husband. Dusty had spent the two weeks down the bayou with her and his pawpaw, and she had to admit she would be glad to turn all three bundles of energy over to her daughter again. While waiting for the arrival, she heated a large pan of crawfish fettuccini in the oven and tossed a salad in order to give Anita a few more minutes to put the finishing touches on the master suite.

~ * ~

The housekeeper carried a large floral arrangement up the stairs to place on the table by the window. The turned-down comforter revealed clean, new deep blue sheets on the bed and two chocolate mints on the fluffed pillows. The bathroom was spotless, its racks hung with thick dark blue towels. All signs of former occupancy were gone. She had not spent her youth as a chambermaid in a fine hotel for nothing. Anita Romero dusted her hands, and satisfied, went to help with the meal.

~ * ~

Adrienne Stone and the fourth Pierre Boniface Landry walked in the garden. They listened to Dusty calling to his dogs in the pecan grove on the other side of the house and said very little to each other for a long time. At last, Pete broke the silence.

Well, Stoney, it’s back to the houseboat for me. Feel free to come visit, and when your house is ready leave a key under the welcome mat for me.

I don’t have a welcome mat. I hope Jon and Celine won’t be upset that we used their room.

"If they ever find out. I have a feeling Anita Romero can keep a secret. Besides, we earned our keep. You went over to that old knitting mill every working day and reported to