The Road Home: Book Three of Sparrow Wars in the Garden of Bliss

By C. A. Portnellus

The sound was deafening.
Rolling thunder shook the very ground he stood upon
and then collapsed, sending him flying.
Clouds of smoke and debris shrouded him for a time, and then there he was,
as if the clouds parted and the very light of heaven shone upon him.
He was dead.
Screaming demons of war fought with the angels of peace for his soul,
clawing and pulling at him.

Elise Boulanger of Baton Rouge Louisiana awakens from a hellish and vivid dreamStaff Sergeant Barton Barre is dead! He is blown up on the battlefield somewhere in Europe. She believes her beloved pen-pal is lost to her, any chance of further friendship or romance is gone. For a time, she silently suffers the reoccurring nightmares, reluctant to confess to her family that the dreams could be real. On the night of her debutante ball, Elise discovers the truth. She then bravely continues her life wearing the cloak of jeu desprit and a fake smile as if nothing has happened.
In this generational saga, families and friends re-unite in the final days of World War II and beyond. This story captures the hearts of a courageous reluctant hero and a resilient lovely teen, transforming them while they both fatefully seek to attain their dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491770580

Book preview

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THE ROAD HOME

BOOK THREE

OF

SPARROW WARS IN THE GARDEN OF BLISS:

A La Barre Family Saga

C.A. PORTNELLUS

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THE ROAD HOME

SPARROW WARS IN THE GARDEN OF BLISS: A LA BARRE FAMILY SAGA

Copyright © 2015 C.A. PORTNELLUS.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

This book contains adult matter and language, graphic war scenes, and adult love.

Cover Photos: The Road Home

Belle of the Ball

Old Things

GI—Retreat!

Spine Photo: Phoenix

Back cover Photo: La Barre Family Crest—Phoenix

Title Page Inset Photos: Divergent Roads

Cover art, Interior art and book design by C.A. Portnellus

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7056-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7057-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7058-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015910134

iUniverse rev. date: 8/21/2015

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

Part I—JEU D’ESPRIT

1. Guardian Angels Keep Thee

2. Frivolous

3. Debutante

4. As Time Flies, My Heart Dies

Part II—IN MEDIAS RES—INTER ALIA

5. Oblivion

6. Damaged Collateral

7. Points and No Going Back

8. Hero—The Return of Barton Barre

9. Reunited

10. L’Étranger en la Famille

Part III—AUDENTIS FORTUNA JUVAT

11. A Self-Made Company Man

12. And We Have The Final Word

13. Love Amidst The Thorns

14. Life Out Of Darkness

15. Cri du Coeur

Part IV—FATE IS A TIPSY GYPSY

16. Bluebells and Rainy Day Promises

17. A Man’s World

18. Harried By Guilt

19. Love Comes In A Blue Blanket

20. Fate—The Thief of Dreams

21. Darling Mother

22. Daring Wife

Afterword

About The Books And Author

DEDICATION

For those who travel the road home to wellness,

filled with longing, excitement, and fear.

Perhaps you are lost in the great world,

adrift among humanity

with nothing to own, but shadowed sinister memories

from which you cannot sleep.

Your nightmares are ours to share.

Your physical pains and sagging spirit are lifted up.

Give them to the Lord. He knows how you suffer.

Be not afraid, for loving hearts and welcoming arms will gather you in,

patching up the missing places in your life and memories.

It is time to begin anew.

A new future waits ahead.

Welcome in the Wanderer.

Welcome Home.

PROLOGUE

Care-Charmer Sleep

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,

Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,

Believe my languish, and restore the light,

With dark forgetting of my cares return.

And let the day be time enough to mourn

The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth;

Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,

Without the torment of the night’s untruth,

Cease, dreams, the images if day-desires,

To model forth the passions of the morrow;

Never let rising sun approve you liars,

To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.

Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain;

And never wake to feel the day’s disdain.

Samuel Daniel 1563—1619

PART I

JEU D’ESPRIT

CHAPTER 1

Guardian Angels Keep Thee

The sound was deafening. Rolling thunder shook the very ground he stood upon and then collapsed, sending him flying. Clouds of smoke and debris shrouded him for a time, and then there he was, as if the clouds parted and the very light of heaven shone upon him.

He was dead.

Screaming demons of war fought with the angels of peace for his soul, clawing and pulling at him.

Formavit igitur Dominus Deus hominem de limo terræ, et inspiravit in faciem ejus spiuraculum vitæ,

et factus est homo in animam viventem.

Suddenly, he breathed in life again.

The ebony-scaled demons cursed the light and Giver of Life and then slithered away to claim other souls.

♦ ♦

Blessed be the heroes who die in honorable duty for their country. Blessed be the heroes …

Saint Adrian of Nicomedia, pray for their souls …

Saint George, pray for us in the hour of our need …

Give us solace for our tears.

No! No! Barton!

Elise rose up, screaming. Tears streaked down her cheeks, heartrending sobs filled her throat, and she fell back upon her bed, clutching her pillow. All of a sudden, her bedroom door was thrown open. She screamed again. The light in the hallway revealed her father.

Elise! What happened?

Oh, Daddy! Elise began to rise from her bed, but Édouard swiftly came and sat on it.

He hugged her close. Édouard petted her head, smoothing back the sweat-damp bangs from her face and then used his hankie, wiping her tears. "What is wrong? Are you ill?’

"Non. J’ai un cauchemar. Je suis stupide," she said brokenly.

Is she all right? The worried voice of Beatrice asked from the door.

"I’ve got her. Just a bad dream is all, Maman. Go back to bed, ma chérie."

Where is Chérie? Elise asked all of a sudden and then pulled away to look about the dark room, afraid again.

They heard a skittering noise, and the little poodle poked her tiny nose out from under the bed ruffle.

Beatrice chuckled. Well, you frightened everyone it seems. She scooped up the black teacup poodle, dropping her in Elise’s arms. She tugged the coverlet and linens back in place. What were you dreaming? Your bed is a mess. Were you fighting off dragons again?

Elise let out a shattered sigh. "No … it is probably nothing."

Édouard kissed her brow and patted her cheek. Dreams cannot hurt you. It is all silliness of the mind. You rest easy, little love. The angels will sing and kiss you to sleep. He glanced at her alarm clock. Smiling, he added, "The night is still young. It is not even two yet. Dormir Bébé." He stood and pressed past Beatrice. Let her sleep now. Come back to bed, love.

Beatrice hovered for a moment. Are you sure you are fine now?

Elise nodded and curled up with her pet. "Oui Maman."

Beatrice smiled and began to close the door. "Fait un beau rêve, chacque temps."

Elise heard the words but felt they were odd and like déjà vu. Yes, she needed to make a beautiful dream this time. She lay for a moment, trying to still her heart and slow her mind to sleep again.

She could still see him … lying in the mud, the mist curling about his singed body.

She wondered at the Latin verse and scrambled out of bed to retrieve her Bible. Switching on the lamp, she quickly wrote the words on paper. She felt she might never forget them; they were already ingrained in her heart and mind. She translated the words and then found them in Genesis 2:7, when God the Creator breathed life into Adam.

The Lord God formed man of the slime of the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul. She read aloud then sniffled tearfully. Oh God, please don’t let him be dead. She turned off the light and lay again in bed. Fearing the darkness, she hugged her Bible close.

This time, she did pray to the patron saints of soldiers until the words ran out and perhaps the angels kissed her to sleep.

♦ ♦

Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Tuesday, April 17, 1945

That morning Elise wore purple shadows under her eyes and a haunted look as she hunched over her farina. She idly stirred the warm cereal and sighed heavily.

Okay Elise, what did you do wrong now? Elaine’s navy-blue eyes rolled as she watched her sister sink lower into the chair. She added, Or maybe I should say, why is Miss Perfect in the dumps today? Hm? She sipped her tea and glanced around at her parents, then hissed at her So are you giving me the silent treatment? What did I do or say now? she sighed with impatience.

Elise shrugged. Nothing.

Frowning, Elaine wiped her mouth on the napkin, took up her breakfast dishes and left the table. She dumped them in the sink and spun around. Hey, Goose Girl! I know what’s got you down! You still don’t have a date for the Rose Ball yet, do you?

Tossing back her long blond curls, Elaine took her sack lunch and headed for the swinging door, You better hurry before all the best boys are gone.

Hush! Beatrice shook her head at Elaine. Leave her be. Elise had a bad dream last night. She reached a hand to stroke Elise’s cheek, Or maybe you have menstrual cramps today? she queried with concern.

Elaine laughed as she lounged against the wall and simpered, "O Pauvre Elise …"

Elise’s dark eyes flared and she shook back her unruly ebony curls. Mother! Stop embarrassing me! She pouted. Then cast a look at her father as he voraciously ate a pair of poached eggs and brioche in fast bites, his face ruddy with embarrassment too.

Yes, please. I don’t need to be privy to the feminine ailment every time you swoon, do I? Édouard glanced at the kitchen clock, Good Lord! Is it that late already? Come on girls hurry up, no more chatter or you will be late for school. He dashed back the last of his coffee, slid back from the table, brushed off crumbs from his suit and kissed his wife. "Merci ma coeur … à bien tôt."

Elaine followed him out already complaining about taking the bus to the university and begging for a ride this morning.

Beatrice began to scrape the plates and run the hot dishwater. She took away Édouard’s tableware and asked, How much longer are you going to play with your food, Elise? She made a noise of dismay, You look terrible this morning. I do hope you were planning on combing your hair before school. And your blouse is wrinkled. She shook her head, I do not approve of all the theatrics, especially since you refused to talk about your nightmare or whatever your problem is this morning. You kept us awake last night, bumbling about in your room.

Elise glowered at her mother taking in the frowsy-looking blonde hair and her spotted apron—she didn’t look so chipper and sharp either.

Mother! Just leave it will you? I am fine. She dropped her spoon in the cereal and scooted back her chair, but Beatrice grabbed up the bowl before she could.

You have not been eating much lately. You look like a twig. She handed Elise her lunch sack. Be sure you eat all of this. I put in an extra apple for you.

"Merci, mais je suis bien." Elise stepped to her mother, hugged her and then left the kitchen. She trod up the stairs to her bedroom. With a glance at her clock, she knew there was not much time left or she would miss the bus and be late for home room.

Grabbing up her sweater and book bag, Elise kissed Chérie on her little puffball head and dashed away, then ran back to snatch her flute case and music bag and rumbled down the stairs, slamming the front door.

♦ ♦

As she hurried along in the misty morning, Elise still felt the ominous shadows of the nightmare from last night. The ugly black demons gave her the creeps. She wondered at the dream for it seemed so real, very loud and almost painful. But she didn’t want to believe it could be true. Was it possible that Barton Barre was dead? She was beginning to wonder, since it had been such a long time between letters from him.

Last year when he went to France his letter had taken months to arrive. She had feared he died during the D-Day operation. His next letter was even longer in coming and she had feared him dead during those months too. But his last two letters had been lovely, nearly poetic and she had been inspired then to begin writing him again. Staff Sergeant Barton Barre had become more than a pen-pal. Elise was sure he was falling in love with her. The dance where they met two summers past was so long ago, that she had nearly forgotten his face, but the words from his letter had stuck in her heart.

If I were to say I love you to anyone, it would be you.

Oh, that letter and the next one had put her on Cloud Nine. But in the months since his last letter, the silence had been worrying.

Now she had the horrible dream of Barton being blown up, it couldn’t be true.

Elise crossed herself and kissed her crucifix, asking a fast blessing on him … as if it would help. She made a plan to go to confession tomorrow before work; there, she would ask Father Luc for the proper prayers to help Barton and light a candle for him.

She shook her head of the muzzy dark cloud, squinted into the hazy sunlight as she rounded the corner onto the main street. The crowded sidewalks and the bustle of downtown Baton Rouge helped to bring her back into the now. She passed by a newsstand glancing at the headlines.

Russians move on Berlin!

Hitler soon to be captured!

America and Allies Bomb Berlin!

She shuddered at the photos of battle scenes and the demolished city.

She pushed the dream and dear Barton away, hoping that he was protected by the saints and perhaps a guardian angel. Why else would she dream of angels and demons fighting over him? I pray you are not fighting there in Berlin, Barton.

A block up she caught site of Millie Layton and Winnie Dell, her friends from school. She waved, shouting at them as they were getting on the city bus. She raced up the sidewalk catching the bus just as the driver began to close the door.

The friends crowded onto a seat together and soon Elise forgot about her miserable night and morning.

Winnie was always the garrulous funny one as was Rosalie Conroy who sat behind them. The girls chattered away excited about the upcoming Rose Debutante Ball next month and made plans to go shopping for the ‘perfect’ dress this weekend.

♦ ♦

The day went by in a blur and in the afternoon, Elise rushed off to her music lesson with Madame Edna Flaubert. She thought she had played fine except that the elderly music teacher irritably ended the lesson early.

Edna peered through her pince-nez at Elise. "C’est tout, Elise." and closed her book on the piano. She sat back on the bench to regard the girl. She removed her eyepiece to wipe a hankie over them then dropped them into the lacy breast pocket of her dress.

My dear, there is obviously something worrying at you. Your timing is off and you have no heart for the music today. What is wrong? she asked with concern and a frown.

Elise closed her eyes for a moment and turned away embarrassed, tears stung her eyes. She disassembled her flute putting it in the leather case. I am sorry Madame. I will do better next time.

Madame Flaubert reached a chubby hand to Elise’s, What is the trouble? Is it school or perhaps a boy? Usually that is the case with you teen girls. Are you in love? The way you look I would say some cad has dropped you.

Elise was quick to respond en Français, "Non! Madame that isn’t it at all— Her brow wrinkled in thought, Well, it is about a b—boy … my friend Barton."

Oh I see, and this Barton he has been unfaithful or perhaps cruel to you? Pfft! Well drop him then! You are too wonderful a girl to have a boy who doesn’t properly appreciate you!

Elise spun about to lock the flute case and cram the music books in her bag to say stiffly, "It isn’t like that. My friend is in the US Army … and, she lost control of her brimming tears and without wanting to confess she wailed, last night I dreamed he died. He was blown up!"

The teacher stood up and gathered her student to her large bosom. "O ma chérie! C’est terrible!" She cooed, "eh bien in Elise’s ear and patted her back, noting how thin she had become. The teen was growing tall as a cornstalk and stood matching Edna’s own impressive height of five-foot eight. It is only a dream then, un cauchemar, I am sure your friend is fine." She dismissed the dream and worrisome comment.

Elise pulled back and looked her teacher in the eye, "Do you really think so? I feel silly talking about it. Now I feel worse, because I was lousy today and wrecked our lessons. But it felt so real … I could feel his pain. I have had a headache all day too."

It is natural to worry for your friend then. I have a grand nephew who is in the Pacific fighting and I worry too. But we must not let that discomfort eat at us. We must be strong and resilient for them and carry on. Yes? She smiled at Elise as she smoothed the girl’s black frowsy bangs from her face. Write him a letter perhaps. I am sure he is fine.

Yes, Ma’am, I will. Elise let out a sigh, Thank you. She impulsively hugged the elder matron, You are always nice to me, Madame. I just want to do my best for you.

Madame Flaubert patted Elise once more and released her. You are my star student. It hurts me to see you so upset and without your usual smile or performing poorly. She cheered to see Elise respond with a demure smile. "Now then, I want you to go home, have a nice cup of tea and relax. Then you must practice the Fauré Fantasie twice, concentrating on the second movement and your fingering. And don’t rush it—just breathe easy. You should be perfect by the recital next month. She began to usher Elise away from the music room, I have another student coming and I need a little break before then." She fluffed her lacy ruffled collar on her dress and patted her perfectly coiffed gleaming white hair.

Oh, yes Anton. I don’t know why he still comes for lessons—he is a terrible violinist. Elise commented as she dutifully marched to the door. His fingers are too fat for the strings. The poor fellow has already broken one violin. Maybe he should switch to a bass or cello.

Tossing her marcel-permed head, Madame opened the front door, Well it is not up to me to tell him to quit. He loves music and the violin, and even though he is built for football, his heart is all there. I do not like to take his parent’s money and keep assuring them he has talent. So I do try to give Anton some confidence and teach him to read the music even if he cannot play it properly. He does have an untrained but stunning basso, so if only I can convince his parents to change Anton over to voice lessons all would be well. I think he would be embarrassed to sit among my elementary students—he is gargantuan compared to them. She shook her head, "O la, it is not my worry. But you, I worry for you. We must find you a wonderful music program for college—that is if you still want to go?"

I do. But I still dream of going to the Italian Music Conservatory in San Renaldo Italy.

As do I. Alas, this war in Europe may make that impossible, my dear, so we must search out other options. Perhaps my alma mater, Julliard would do. Yes? She noted Elise’s nod and then patted her cheek. Now you practice as I suggested. Next week we can spend more time sight-reading. I have some other wonderful piano and flute duets you can choose. With a little practice, we have time to work an extra piece in the recital program. What do you say?

Elise smiled brightly, I say you are too good to me. Yes, I would love that. How about something Italian or maybe Mozart? I just love Baroque music.

"Oui! Allez-y, I have mere minutes to take a powder and recover before dear Anton arrives! Edna rolled her eyes and then chuckled, I do love my students but really some are more challenging than others! Adieu!" she waved and closed the door on Elise.

Elise ran home with a silent prayer in her heart for Barton Barre’s safety.

CHAPTER 2

Frivolous

Friday, April 20, 1945

Édouard lounged in his leather chair, smoking his pipe while he and his family listened to the evening national news radio broadcast. This is the most promising advancement we have heard since D-Day last year. Those Russians are relentless. The American bombing this week has made Berlin an open door now. He tapped The Advocate with its war photos. Hitler is doomed.

Elise sat up from her prone position on the rug while listening to say, But the cost of it is horrible! All of this effort just to capture one man and his cohorts. Hitler is a coward to stay in his bunker, while forcing his people to fight in the streets. He should be in the front shooting back at least!

Beatrice inserted, "Did you hear that it is Hitler’s birthday? The reports say that Hitler gave his people in Berlin a treat to celebrate—a bag of food rations for a few days! But who can live on only a few cans of food? What a despicable fiend, while he and his generals are probably dining on champagne and pâté fois gras! That is not generosity! He is as mis-guided as Marie Antoinette—‘O let them eat cake!’"

Beatrice sighed as she crocheted, I say thank God we live in America, at least we have food. Our former President Roosevelt understood the poor and helped them. We can only hope Mister Truman will continue to honor those programs. But those pitiful Berliners have little to nothing.

Mother! Are you sympathetic to their cause? Do you want the Germans to win the war? I think— Elaine edged into the discussion, this time angrily.

Beatrice hotly replied, Of course not! But must they be punished so cruelly? Why little schoolboys are being taken from their homes and put in the service of the Führer to make them fight. If they do not, they are hung in the streets as an example of cowardice! How fair is that?

Beatrice! What is this nonsense? Édouard grumbled.

Madge Hess lost her grandson that way. She leaned to her daughters, Thank God we are not Germans and you are not boys. I am glad I have no sons to lose to that diabolical beast!

Édouard set his pipe aside on the ashtray and rose up. Beatrice, do not listen to sensational gossip, you know it is unpatriotic and a risk. True, Hitler’s days are numbered. Berlin will fall soon. Then I hope we shall see peace in Europe. Tojo and Hirohito will be dealt with next!

Elise stood too, You seem callous to the consequences, Dad. Hitler should be put to trial and punished for his crimes against humanity. He is a criminal! And insane! How many more lives will be lost just to boost his ego and his mad attempt to conquer the world? She paced to him. This war is terrible, because of one man, the entire world has suffered. The war has taken the lives of millions and not just soldiers, but citizens and children! I had to do research last week for my debate team, and the stories that have come out in the press are hideous. It is probably downplayed for us stupid Americans and truly worse over there! I mean, look what happened at Auschwitz—

"C’est tout, Elise!" Édouard stepped to the large mahogany-clad radio and switched it off. "I cannot listen anymore, it is horrible. War is a sin and I am tired of being punished for another man’s transgression. The warmongers in Washington deem it all glorious, but they do not see the reality of war … the hell of it … or its exacting price."

He shook his head, running his hand through the ebony locks then smiled grimly at the astonished faces of his family. I am not acting unpatriotic to the cause, but this war is a heinous and grievous thing, for which we all suffer. He took a breath, I am sorry to lose my temper my darlings. I wish I could keep you all safe and ignorant of the war, but it is life I suppose.

Sighing heavily, he continued, I am sorry too I must announce that if this war continues, we will lose the store. We have little of the French imported goods that brought people to shop in our store. We lose customers daily. We are nothing more than a glorified overpriced grocery.

Sitting by Beatrice he took up her hand, Maman and I are barely keeping afloat in this sea of disparity and decline. I can only imagine how the people of Europe feel—they have lost everything. We are soon to lose too. His voice cracked, I have tried to keep us above it all. If not for you my family, I would have already given up the store as a lost venture.

Elise rushed to him. No, Daddy! It is your family legacy! Our store has been here for more than a hundred years. Are you saying people no longer want or need us? Elise squeezed in next to her father, putting an arm about his broad shoulders. Daddy, we will work harder for you. And you don’t have to pay us either,

Elaine let out a gasp, "Elise! Tais-toi!"

Glaring at Elaine, Elise calmly asserted, No, I will not be quiet. We are more fortunate than others are, Elaine. We don’t need much, at least I don’t. I have the money I saved for my studies in Italy, you know. I will give it to you Daddy.

Édouard choked tearfully, taking her hand, kissing her fingers. "Non, ma p’tite. You keep it, it is your money, hard-earned and for your college. God willing, we will cut costs in other ways. Maman and I will keep to a budget."

He glanced at Beatrice who looked wide-eyed at him. "I did have an idea how to save us, but it will mean longer hours for us. I will turn part of the store over to a little teashop. We will serve pastries and tea, offer coffee when we have it, little sandwiches and such. Nobody seems to have money to buy the dusty furniture or other imported household goods we have left—people mostly want to eat! We can make the food people like and we can purchase here locally. But it will be refined, not a little diner serving merde populaire." Édouard re-lit his pipe and puffed aggressively on it.

Elise was quick to offer, I will help Daddy! I have a new recipe I made up for marmalade, which uses no sugar only honey. She laughed, I would bet that Carrabelle Chenier would be our best café customer and advocate. I say let’s do it!

Elaine sighed, Yes, I will help too, if I must she muttered, and there goes my social life.

Daddy, I want to say one more thing, I don’t want to go to the Rose Debutante Ball. Elise blurted.

Beatrice gasped and Elaine snorted inelegantly.

"Pourquoi?" Édouard eyed his daughter with a frown.

We don’t need the expense. It is silly and a waste of good money.

Elaine chirped, She won’t go because she hasn’t got a date yet. She ignored Elise’s huff of annoyance.

"Abandon that idea, ma fille. You will go, it is your right and it is my duty and pleasure to give it to you."

Elise resigned with a sigh and kissed his cheek. If you insist Daddy. He nodded and kissed her.

Beatrice squeezed her husband’s hand and rose up, Now if we have thrashed this conversation to its end, I say we go eat the last of the lemon tarts and play cards. Then we will go to bed early so we don’t waste more electricity. Your father had a tizzy over the last bill. Elaine, you must remember to turn off lights when you leave a room. Your father should not pay for your laziness. She held up a hand stilling Elaine’s ready complaint. "In addition, we shall all go on a diet after tonight. For now, I have had enough of the world and its ills. In spite of it all, we are the Boulanger family and we shall stand strong like the French people we are. We shall not shame our forebears or our countrymen—Vive la France!"

♦ ♦

Saturday, April 21, 1945

Oh! Elise! You look fabulous darling! Beatrice gushed as she plucked the ribbons on Elise’s dress.

I wish I could wear that color too, but I concede it is best for you! Winnie hugged Elise’s shoulder. She straightened the organza ruffles, yet still admiring the peach colored dress on her friend.

No, I shouldn’t, you like this one Winnie; it was the only one that fit you. Besides, I don’t like how tight the bodice feels. Turning away from the mirror, Elise began to fidget. Help get me out of this thing, please.

Rosalie crowded in the booth and unzipped the dress then watched as Elise let it fall in a ruffled pile at her feet.

Beatrice complained, her brows furrowing, blue eyes sparking with irritation. Elise, if you don’t pick a dress right now, I will scream! You have tried on sixteen dresses. Stop prevaricating and choose something.

Elise blushed as she glanced at her mother in the mirror. Her friends stood about looking like dumbstruck sheep agog for Beatrice’s outburst. Sorry Mom. She took her own faded cotton floral printed shirtwaist dress and began to pull it over her head. I just won’t go to the ball.

No! You can’t do that Elise! Winnie screeched and looked agape, I cannot go alone!

Rosalie elbowed her way into the argument, Hey! I am going too!

Elise tugged at her simple dress pulling it over her hips as she turned about to Winnie. "You won’t be alone, your Dad and sister will be there, and so will the rest of our friends and that boy, what was his name?

Conrad. Winnie inserted.

Yes, him, he will be your dance escort right? Elise noted Winnie nodding and she added, So that is why you simply must have this. He will adore you in it. She passed over the peach-colored gown, It looks best on you.

Winnie clutched the gown to her bosom and gave a sigh. Thanks Elise. I did like it best and we certainly cannot wear the same dress, right?

Elise rolled her eyes, as her mother was fast to retort.

Certainly not. It is very embarrassing to show up in the same ensemble. Beatrice ran a hand over the numerous dresses on the rack in the fitting room then pulled one off, a deep rose taffeta creation. I like this too, Elise.

I did too, but that is Rosalie’s dress.

Rosalie possessively took it away hanging it on another rack. Yes, this is mine.

Beatrice spun to look at the trio of girls before her then asked, So what is Millie wearing? Does anyone know?

Elise shrugged, Does it matter, Mother? I am not going. I don’t have a date, and according to you if I don’t wear the so called ‘perfect dress’ or have Prince Charming in tow, then I shall be nothing but a laughing stock at the ball anyway. She slumped on the bench. Oh where is my fairy godmother? I feel like Cinderella trying on her step-sisters’ frumpy old dresses.

She then glared up at her mother, "I don’t care what you say, but I am not going with Rémy. He is odious! Daddy can just apologize to his friend and son. He shouldn’t have offered me up like a—"

"De grâce!" Beatrice turned about to mumble as she looked through the dress-rack again.

Rosalie sat next to Elise to say, Then maybe we shouldn’t go either. I mean, aren’t we like the Three Musketeers? One for all and all for one? She giggled then spoke low to Elise, Would you go if you had a date?

Elise regarded her dark red-headed friend for a moment, then replied, Maybe, if he was really cute and not a big jerk.

Beatrice made a noise of annoyance, Elise, what of it? You simply cannot miss this debutante ball. You refused to go last summer, so this is your last chance at a proper coming out. She glanced at the girls, Please, if I cannot convince you how important this is, maybe your friends will. Why else have we been paying for dance and comportment lessons, music and foreign language lessons, if only to have you rebuke it all? It is all important for a young woman. You must be properly fitted out, introduced—

Elise cut her off irritably, And paraded out like a prize pony at the fair! You make me think I am only worthy to lure some dolt of a rich boy to my feminine wiles, and latch on with claws. I know mother, you have only been nagging me to go for the last year and half! Elise shook her head. I didn’t think you were ready to marry me off—

"If that is how you feel about it … then, I think we are done shopping here. Girls gather your dresses and I believe Elise and I have an important talk coming. She shoved the rack aside and swept back the curtain, eluding the hovering saleswoman. Go ahead girls, reserve your dresses and I shall be waiting in the millinery department. I feel the need for a new hat!" Clutching her handbag, Beatrice left, imperiously strolling away down the wide aisle of Goudchaux’s department store.

Winnie let out a loud breathy whistle, Wow, you sure riled her! You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t speak to you for a week, Elise.

Yes, I’d be so lucky. Elise shrugged and sighed.

Winnie headed towards the cashier with her dress. She turned back to regard her friends, "So are you sure I can have this dress, Elise? Last chance …"

Of course, it fits you. Elise said and withdrew a hankie from her purse to wipe her tears. I am sorry, I am no fun lately. I just don’t feel like going to a dance or buying a new dress. Besides, I didn’t like them anyway. They all look so cheap and tawdry this year. I despise rayon and nylon. We haven’t had any decent lace or silk in years now!

Snob. Rosalie nudged Elise’s shoulder as she waited to purchase her dress. Sorry, but maybe you have time to sew one. You are a wonderful seamstress and so creative. She leaned up against Elise, Monday we should go look at fabric. I can help you lay it out, if you find a pattern.

That is sweet. But maybe I could just wear one of Elaine’s dresses.

Won’t work, honey, you are too tall. Winnie was fast to retort. She glanced up at her taller friend, You have been growing like a string bean this year, or have you forgotten?

Elise blushed pink. No, Elaine is kind enough to remind me almost daily and so does Rosalie’s brother, Wayne. He calls me Stork.

Rosalie’s hazel-green eyes flared, Oh, I will just kick him. I was going to ask him to escort you Elise. Well he just ruined that idea. I’ll have to ask someone else from the basketball team then. She made a face at Elise’s angry reaction, Well honey, you cannot go with a boy shorter than you or some big ox of a football player like Anton Evreux with two right feet, can you?

Elise shook her head, Forget it and thanks for trying. I’ll just tell Daddy he doesn’t have to go. He’ll be relieved, he hates dancing.

Winnie burst out laughing, No, he doesn’t! Well, at least not with your Mom. Didn’t you see him at the Winter Nights dance? He was really putting your mother through the paces and you too.

Well, I don’t care to be a show pony for him, Mother or anyone. This is a stupid tradition anyway! Elise responded with a pout.

The girls both gasped and looked agog at Elise.

But Winnie burst out, Elise Boulanger! Don’t say that! The Rose and Silver Magnolia Debutante Balls are wonderful and yeah they are tradition, that is, if you are going to find the perfect husband or even Prince Charming for the summer!

She leaned to her friends to whisper, My mother has my life all planned out, since I was a month old. Heck, I have a trousseau all tucked away in my hope chest. Mom, Grand-Mama and I have been making things for it for years. This is my last chance too. Conrad was a lucky find and I cannot waste the opportunity. We all must go! I won’t be lucky like you Elise and get to go away to a fancy university and find a perfect boy, I am stuck here!

Elise snorted unbecomingly, "There is no such thing as a perfect man, or your, Prince Charmant. Besides, we are too young to think of marriage anyway. I still cannot believe that you are both so crazy to do this. Taking on an erudite air, she continued, We are free-thinking modern women of the twentieth century. And as such, we should be able to pick out our clothes, or dates, and our future husbands! Eleanor Roosevelt would be ashamed of us! We aren’t show horses, only good for breeding, for heaven’s sake!" Elise tossed her long curly ponytail and pranced away.

Ha! You only say that because you aren’t in love. Just you wait! You’ll be the laughingstock at school if you don’t attend the ball. All the good ones will be gone! Winnie called to her friend’s retreating form.

Elise cringed but continued toward the ladies’ millinery department.

She spied her mother sitting before a mirrored stand. The saleswoman artfully arranged a blue floral hat and crooned over its merits and Beatrice’s beauty in it. Elise came up and leaned against the counter.

Beatrice looked up noting her daughter had been crying. I hope you chose a dress, and today has not been a waste of everyone’s time, Elise. We have been to three stores today and I am weary of it all.

Elise turned about to peek in the mirror and smooth her damp eyes and frowsy curly bangs. No. I don’t care to waste Daddy’s good money on something I don’t like. I just won’t go.

Beatrice let out a gasp then looking miffed, she held up a hand, We shall end the discussion for now. What about this hat? Do you like it?

Elise glanced at Beatrice’s reflection, It looks silly, and no, I would never wear it Mother. Besides it is not in your new budget.

The saleswoman made a face, But it is stunning on you Madame! she exclaimed and picked at the midnight blue netting to arrange it further.

Beatrice snapped. It is not for you, Elise, but I’ll take it! Obviously my daughter is lacking in good graces and discernment today.

"Dad will say the same, Mom. He hates all that garden flower froufrou stuff on you. She commented watching as the saleswoman removed the hat and placed it in the hatbox then headed to the register. She snidely said to her mother, Dad will be angry with you for spending frivolously."

Frowning, Beatrice tucked in a few stray blond curls under the hair-combs and replaced her straw hat. Elise I am disappointed in you today. This entire week you have been positively obnoxious, antagonistic, morose, and sassy when you do speak. You are giving me a migraine, and I positively won’t have any more of this attitude from you.

Elise spun away, That is fine with me Mother. I have had enough too. I don’t want to be a show pony, prancing and dancing about all to catch the eye of some prospective suitor. It is stupid, pointless, and positively barbaric! I am a modern liberated woman! She stamped away to the perfume counter.

♦ ♦

Beatrice watched with dismay, wondering at her daughter—normally Elise was sweet as honey. The girl had yet to voice her discontent until now. She was shocked by her rebellious outburst. Months before this, Elise had been looking forward to her coming-out parties and dances with her friends. Now she was petulant, abrasive and looked miserable.

Maybe it was just her woman’s time. The past couple of years had been difficult with three hormonal, weepy, and snippy females in the house. Beatrice was surprised her husband hadn’t thrown them all out by now! It was no wonder there was homicide when women acted like that. Elise had finally joined the ranks!

♦ ♦

Beatrice took the girls out to late lunch against her better judgment. She did have a headache brewing. But she relented to see the girls once again giggling together at their table in the upscale cafe. Elise was perky and smiling again, even flirting coyly with the waiter.

Beatrice looked up at the young man to see he was a well-put together fellow, tall and tan as an oak, with crisp coppery curls, sparkling cornflower blue eyes, and a charming touch of an overbite and dimples. She gave her order for tomato bisque and watercress tea sandwiches. She gulped to hear Elise order the Blue Plate special: a hot turkey sandwich, French-fried potatoes and greens. She would have commented on the girl’s un-ladylike lunch, but noticed that the other girls ordered hamburgers and fries too. Oh well, so much for a ladies’ luncheon out. Let their mothers worry over their figures and train them properly!

The waiter returned with their drinks and an array of sweet and sour piccalilli, pickled okra, and cornichons, along with a charming smile for Elise as he put a glass of sparkling cherry mash in front of her. The young man sauntered away, but looked back to witness the trio of giggling girls—he turned fuchsia.

Look! He gave you extra maraschinos! Winnie laughed.

Please girls! What is so amusing? Beatrice took a sip of her tea, then squeezed the slice of lemon over the dainty cup, stirred and drank the tea with a sigh.

I think we found Elise’s date for the dance! Rosalie snickered.

Elise swatted her with the linen napkin. I said I am not going.

If you have a boy, will you go then? Rosalie whispered.

Elise sniffed, Maybe.

Winnie giggled behind her hand, Oo! He is watching you, Elise.

Stop it. Elise sobered but discreetly glanced over at the waiter. He is cute. But does he have to be so tall? She commented as the trio secretly watched the waiter folding towels and sneaking looks at them.

You just wait, after lunch I’ll see if I can get his name for you. Winnie said as she sipped her iced sweet tea.

"There’s no need to do that … I know who he is. Rosalie replied. He plays on the varsity team with Wayne. He also plays tennis and golf. She leaned to Winnie, Don’t you remember we watched him and Wayne practice free-shots a couple of weeks ago?"

Winnie’s brow furrowed then she giggled, Oh yes! I remember him now. He has quite a nice physique, except he was all sweaty and messy. Kinda icky!

Elise frowned, Um, I think we should change the subject, Mother looks ready to implode. The girls glanced at Beatrice who was discreetly fanning her flushed cheeks. Sorry mother.

"Oh, you girls are so silly. Why in my day, we …"

You did the same thing. Elise finished. She took in the flustered face of her mother, Yes, Daddy told me all about you and your tittering friends, coming into our store just so everyone could ogle him.

The girls’ and Beatrice’s mouths fell open. I never! she exclaimed.

Well, I never will either, Mother. But it is fun to watch the waiter get all flustered. He just dropped the stack of towels. Elise giggled as they watched the youth bend over scrambling to pick up the towels. Excuse me, but you missed one! she called to him as he disappeared around the corner. Elise shrugged.

Elise! Beatrice groaned.

Oh you are so naughty today! I like it! Rosalie laughed.

Yes, what happened to our wallflower? Winnie chortled.

Well, I guess I have to find my own date, since nobody has asked me. None of the boys in our dance class have asked me, Elise pouted, not that I would have accepted. There is not a nice or cute boy among the bunch.

Beatrice imparted with decorum. "Elise! You cannot ask just anyone to the dance, he must be part of the approved circle, the ton and ask you! You should accept Rémy Deschanel’s offer. He is truly a wealthy French gentleman—"

Elise grunted, … and as bucktoothed and homely as a donkey and nearly as stupid.

Winnie snorted a laugh.

Rosalie smiled, Oh Ron’s on the list Ma’am. It’s just that he is such a dreamboat that nobody dares to ask him. She turned to Elise, I think you should ask him. He obviously has eyes for you. You think he is cute.

She leaned on her fist and then glanced up at the waiter as he passed along the plates of food. After he put down Elise’s last and picked up her napkin off the floor too, Rosalie blurted out, Hi Ron! What’s cookin’?

Ron cast a fluttered eye at her, Um fine, Rosie. He gulped then asked, Can I get you ladies anything else? More tea or—

How about your phone number for Elise here? Rosalie elbowed Elise, She thinks you just might be perfect for the Rose Ball. Don’t you Elise?

Ron turned fuchsia pink and coughed. Elise groaned and swatted Rosalie. Winnie choked on her water. Beatrice let out a yelp!

Rosalie Conroy! Elise Marie! How shocking and brazen you both are! Beatrice put a hand on her bosom, looking up at the waiter, Please forgive the impertinence of them. I think we are fine, you can go. She waved the youth away with her napkin then turned to the girls. How dare you embarrass everyone like that? Elise I forbid you even to think about it. That is not how a young woman attracts a prospective suitor.

Rosalie sat back and grinning nibbled a fry, "No? Well, how would Ron know if Elise liked him or not? Maybe you don’t get dates that way Madame Boulanger, but times are different. After what Elise told us earlier, I am beginning to agree with her that this debutante stuff and all the froufrou fussing about is nonsense. I know you older moms love it, because you did it too. But really?"

Beatrice pushed her soup plate away, "I shudder to think how your dear mother puts up with you Rosalie. You are such a tomboy. I pity her. I suppose you are the one feeding Elise all of this negative propaganda too. You both will end up being nothing but a pair of un-married demi-mondes and wastrels! I did not raise you that way, my dear Elise."

Elise shook her head, No, mother that is my own opinion. She smiled now at Rosalie, But I am glad I am not the only one here who thinks it is all silly.

My dear, generations within kingdoms, countries, and businesses have been built upon such traditions. Beatrice said stiffly, Why if not for my ball, I would never have married your father! She leaned towards Elise, And if I had not met him, then you would not be here, young lady! Just be mindful of that! Let’s have no more discussion. Eat your food, even though my appetite is truly ruined now. Indeed!

♦ ♦

Elise knew her mother fibbed all to make a point about how she once met Édouard. Not revealing the fact that Beatrice met him while shopping in the Boulanger family’s import store.

Luncheon continued then as a quiet affair—yet, the girls stifled giggles when they glanced at each other. They snickered each time that Ron took away dishes or brought them drinks and finally dessert. Over fruit tarts and tea, Beatrice seemed to feel she had control over the trio again. When the waiter brought their check, he stood by Elise as he waited for Beatrice to read it and hand it back with money. He dropped a slip of paper on Elise’s folded napkin. Rosalie snatched it up before Beatrice could see it.

They followed Beatrice as she left the cafe. Elise cast another look at Ron who stood warily by the counter, she gave him a tiny wave and he smiled brightly.

On the way home in the taxi cab, the teens were all smiling and restless.

Mother? I am sorry about today. I think I would like to go to the dance after all, but I will sew something. I’ll go next week to get material and a pattern, alright?

Beatrice glanced aside at her daughter and the two smiling girls. I hope you are not doing this for my sake Elise. You are after all a young woman. You should experience some fun, but also be properly placed within a circle of good influence. I think many girls are not as lucky as you three are. You should be grateful for all your parents have done for you. You will soon learn the cost of finding the best arrangements.

Yes, Ma’am. The three intoned.

Elise piped up, But Mother, you let Elaine pick her beau. She is still dating Terrence Dillard. Daddy positively hates him.

Beatrice rolled her shoulders as she straightened, Elaine was smart and chose a perfect fellow. He comes from good stock. His family is very wealthy. So she is sure to be well-placed should they get married. That is another subject you don’t need to know, but your father and I must discuss …

Know what—about Elaine, or me?

Both. Enough, we are almost to Rosalie’s house. Beatrice ended the discussion with an imperious wave.

Rosalie patted Beatrice’s shoulder, Oh that’s okay, Madame, we are all going home with Elise. We want to look at the glamour mags and find the perfect gown for her.

I see. Well, Elise, you have once again squirmed out of our talk. She glanced at the girls, But perhaps they will help you find the right one. At least they have good taste in dresses. I am honored that your mothers chose me to help you. It is a shame they both had to work today. A good mother should help her daughter to—

Thanks Mother! Elise ended her mother’s complaints. Beatrice was often the snob in trying to keep up with social graces among ‘les belle riches de Baton Rouge’. She often forgot that other people worked extra jobs and were busy— mostly for the war effort of course. Elise admired her friends’ mothers for their patriotic volunteerism and independence. She sometimes wished she could do more for the war effort other than her Girl Scout troop’s junk drive and bake sales.

After getting out of the cab and carrying in their shopping bags, the girls scrambled upstairs. They collapsed on the bed and chairs.

Whew! I thought we would never escape! Rosalie muttered, Your mom is nearly as despotic as mine! I thought mine was bad!

Elise shook her head, Mom is autocratic not despotic. However, Daddy can be a tyrant. Oh well. She got off her bed and headed to the desk.

Winnie, get those magazines you bought. Let’s find something quickly. I have only this week to design my dress. Elise plopped in the chair at the desk then took out a pad of paper and pencil. She began sketching some dress ideas. The girls crowded around.

After a few minutes, Winnie asked, So did you change your mind because of your mom, Elise?

A little. However, I think I have a date. She winked at Rosalie.

Who? Round-eyed Winnie owlishly echoed.

Rosalie grinning held up the note, Let’s see if Ron said yes.

Elise took the note unfolding it with relish, Yes.

The girls squealed shrilly.

Oh my stars! He is so cute!

You are so lucky! He is a dreamboat, Elise!

He does seem rather nice. Elise peered at the note, It not only says ‘yes’ but has his name, address and phone number. He has nice penmanship too, so he must be smart.

I’ll bet he has a lot of other ‘nice charms’ to share. Winnie giggled.

They all laughed, but Rosalie teased. He used to date Ladellia Fort, and you know how picky she is. But he dropped her like a rock, told my brother she was a snob and boring. Rosalie was quick to inform Elise.

Elise sat back, Do you think he will like me then? He is rather the Campus Tom Cat and senior class president—he could pick anyone.

And don’t forget he’s cute, and the MVP on the varsity basketball team, and on the principal’s list, Rosalie counted off on her fingers, and his family is wealthy. They own a fleet of fishing and shrimp trawlers and sightseeing boats. And like their name, they are horse folks. They belong to the country club. Both Ron, his older brother Tim and their father play polo. I just don’t know how you could go wrong with him. Rosalie finished.

I didn’t even know about him, let alone his name before today. What makes you think he’ll like me? Elise sounded unsure.

He said yes, Elise. Winnie and Rosalie said together.

You are a lucky girl to get him so late in the month. The Rose Ball will be absolutely perfect now! Winnie said with cheerful authority.

Elise sighed and smoothed out the piece of paper. Ronald Lee Farrier sounds too good to be true.

♦ ♦

That night as she lay in bed, Elise said her prayers including a blessing for her parents even though they were lately annoying and pushy. Then she smiled and said, Thank you for putting Ronald Farrier in my life. I think he will be a nice friend to have. Just let me be worthy of him.

She began to feel sleepy and yawned. She snuggled her face into the pillow and the somnolent warmth of her tiny dog. She added, Thank you Holy Mother for all the blessings you have chosen to give me, I am humbled. Bless those who don’t have much. Amen.

Elise relaxed contentedly feeling all worries of the day were over. She would make the perfect dress, have a handsome, charming escort for the Rose Ball, her parents would perhaps stop fussing over her.

Then of a sudden darkness crept about her mind, and an evil thing rose up to haunt her.

Oh! Saint George, please pray for my Barton and bless him. Save him, please! Elise wept anew.

Oh drat! I forgot poor Barton! I hope he doesn’t mind that I go to the ball.

Elise drifted away into hours of fitful dreams of smoke, ashes, ruined ball gowns, and devastated smoldering ballrooms. She then spent the remainder of the night, writing a letter to Barton hoping he was still alive in war-torn Europe, while she was here selfishly and inanely fussing over dresses and going to a silly debutante ball!

♦ ♦

Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Wednesday, April 25, 1945

Elise looked up as the shop bell tinkled over the doorway. She smoothed back the curly streamers of hair behind an ear and straightened her blue pinstriped apron. "Bienvenue Madame Chenier. Comment ça va?"

The corpulent woman in a too-tight floral sack dress lifted her nose and sniffed appreciatively, "Ça va bien, chérie, especially now that I smell that heavenly aroma. What is it?"

"Les tartes tatin … freshly made too. We have apple, pear and peach. Elise said proudly. Would you like to see one?"

"O la, oui! I came in today for just the perfect treat." She continued en Français. "Ma Belle-fille is getting engaged to Franklin Devin. Do you know him? What a prosperous young business man! He owns two stores, you know. I want to have a special little reception for them."

That is wonderful. When is the party? Elise asked then took a heavy tray with a selection of each pie and placed it on the wooden counter. She smiled as the woman fanned her hand over the warm pies breathing deeply and sighing wistfully.

I want all of them!

Are you sure? I have six of each kind—that is a lot of pie, Madame. Elise’s brow crinkled wryly.

"We will have a lot of people tonight! They will go in the wink of an eye. Wrap them up s’il vous plait. Merci Elise."

Tonight! Elise began to package the desserts in cardboard pie boxes, she worriedly asked, Do you need anything else for your party?

Madame Chenier passed over a list. "Oui … toute chose. I do not have time to shop anywhere else today. O la. She plucked a cube of bread from a sample plate, popped it in her mouth and exclaimed, Oh garlic and onion, très delicieux! One of those loaves, no, make it two please, et une boule à la Basque." She said smacking her lips and peeking into another sample dish on the counter.

Elise went to the curtained doorway, Jacqueline? I could use your help, we have a large order.

Jacqueline peeked out the curtain, her long pink nose twitched mouse-like as she beheld the obese woman. She said in an aside to Elise, If not for Madame Elephantine, we would all be poor! Yes, I will help you. Franklin Devin is a fat man too, so that’s good business for us!

Sh! Get the items on the list. I hope we have it all. Don’t forget anything. Elise passed over the long list. She returned to the counter to finish packaging the bread and pies only to note that the woman had quickly grazed leaving only a few crumbs in the dishes of broken cookies, bread cubes and dried fruit.

Elise giggled and whispered, There’s nothing left for the bums in the alley today!

"Don’t you dare give her anything extra then, she already got her lagniappe for the week! She’ll put you out of business!" Jacqueline joked.

The woman called out, "Ma Chére, your store is still the