This story is dedicated to the one that got away.
If you're looking for a quick fix this won't be one for you; this story is a slow burn, I wanted to give the characters time to develop. Its length requires that I put it in the novella category but the theme would fall under romance, or at least my idea of it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
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Precious Cargo
Ch. 1
New Orleans gets about two weeks of good weather a year and those days aren't in a row. Oct 18th just so happened to be one of those days and Michelle was happy for it; despite her husband's success she drove a beat down minivan whose a/c hadn't worked in weeks. Now over 10 years old the van had seen better days; the passenger sliding door didn't open automatically any more, the oil pan had a constant small leak, and the kids were creating some sort of science experiment in the back seat that gave the van a perpetual moldy smell. She always asked her husband Chuck when they could get a new car but every request was met with a speech about depreciation on new cars and the fact that the van still worked and how hard it is to find another truly reliable vehicle. But today with the cool weather she rolled down the windows and enjoyed a nice breeze for the first time this year.
Normally after dropping the kids off Michelle would head to the gym for an hour before going back home where a mountain of laundry and dishes always waited for her, and no matter how much time she had it was never enough to get everything done, so things fell behind. The floors always needed to be swept and mopped, everything needed to be dusted, and the bathrooms, she didn't even want to think about the bathrooms. She wanted a maid to come at least once a week to help but couldn't bring herself to ask Chuck for the money. She knew what he'd say, "You're home all day. I just can't justify spending more money on something we can do ourselves." He would say 'we' but she knew he meant her, and so she just never asked.
She tried not to think about these things as she drove down Napoleon but she couldn't keep it out of her head. She tried to count the things she's grateful for instead, starting with her kids. She always started with her kids, 3 little hell raisers that kept her busy all the time but she loved dearly, so life wasn't so bad. Chuck made plenty of money and they lived well, the kids went to private school, and they were able to take a nice vacation every year. Last year they rented a beach house in Florida, where Michelle spent little time relaxing and more time chasing the kids around and fixing dinner every night. Forget it! She thought, unable to keep negative thoughts out of her head, today is my day.
Michelle took a right on Magazine St and made her way to La Boulangerie, and new little bakery she'd been wanting to try. She'd been saving money for what, she didn't know, but she had 120 dollars in her purse and she intended to spend every penny.
Driving slowly down Magazine she searched for the bakery and admired the clothes in all the little boutiques. Finally spotting La Boulangerie's blue awning she took a left on Cadiz and found a parking spot less than a block away. She felt free, stepping out of the van. The decision to take the day off took a weight off her shoulders.
The inside of La Boulangerie looks like you'd expect, exposed wood beams and pastries appetizingly displayed under glass. At the counter she took her time deciding what to get, mentally tasting each item, wanting the perfect delicacy to go with her mood; she settled on a hot vanilla latte and mini fruit tart. The outside chairs were uncomfortable discs of metal but the weather was so nice she went outside anyway.
The tart was okay and she enjoyed the berries but it was the latte she thoroughly enjoyed. Always overly conscientious of what she ate, the fattening, sweet coffee almost felt naughty. The drink was mostly full but the slight breeze had helped it cool enough for her to take indulgent sips.
Half turned, staring down the street, she was planning out the rest of her day when a thick Cajun voice startled her.
"Mon Dieu" came a deep voice from closer than she'd like.
Michelle jumped, turning to see a man she didn't recognize smiling like a 5-year-old with a new toy. He was tall and fit. He was wearing charcoal colored dress pants and a starched light blue button-up shirt with dirty work boots. The stranger didn't move as Michelle studied his face trying to recognize him. He looked to be in his early forties with a head full of jet black hair. His skin had a deep tan that said he spent too much time in the sun, and for lack of a better term he looked... GOOD.
She felt guilty not recognizing this person who so clearly knew her. His dark deep set eyes told her nothing and it felt like an eternity passed as she looked and he just kept smiling. Smiling, that's it, she thought. That stupid smart-ass smile, how could I forget?
"Oh my God, Jamie." she jumped out of her chair nearly knocking the table over.
Jamie didn't budge as Michelle came crashing into him; instead he threw his arms around her, lifting her off her feet in an embrace that took her immediately back to the carefree and safe world of high school. Jamie was much more muscled than she remembered and she might have let the hug linger too long as her hands rolled over the lines of his back.
Lowering her to the ground she struggled to let just one question out at a time.
"What are you..., where..., I mean how'd you get here?" She asked suddenly feeling stupid for the way it came out, and waiting for a smart-ass comeback.
"I mean. Oh, you know what I mean." She said before he could make his comeback.
"What am I doing here? Where have I been?" He said sorting out the questions for her.
"Yes, those things, and everything else too." She told him turning back to the table with a grin she feared wouldn't go away.
"Ha. It's a lot and a very long story." Jamie told her still standing.
"Well now I'm sure I want to hear it all. I have time today." Michelle said looking up at him and enjoying the inside joke to herself.
"Well let me tell Dominique hello and get a cup of coffee. I'll be right back out." Jamie told her before walking inside.
Michelle tried to calm down a little and made a conscious effort not to look back in the store to see what he was doing. She hadn't seen Jamie since high school and the gangly boy he used to be had filled out. Jamie had always been tall but the powerful shoulders he now sported were once curtain rods suspending a slight frame. Even his eyes were different; he still had that unmistakable grin but his eyes no longer had the wide wonderment of youth, now they were closed and predatory.
As Michelle was comparing all the ways he changed, a woman walked past and into the bakery. The woman was dressed casually but she was young and her jeans looked painted on, her hair and make-up seemed perfect. Truth is the girl wasn't at all out of place on Magazine; as Michelle looked around, most the women looked like the young girl and Michelle suddenly felt self-conscious. She was normally in the gym at this time so she was wearing sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt over the eternally unflattering sports bra. She had on no make-up and her hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail that served to keep it out of her face rather than as a fashion statement. Compared to Jamie in his dress cloths and his perfectly groomed hair she was a wreck.
Unable to fight her curiosity Michelle looked back inside. She'd like to tell herself that she was looking to see what Jamie was doing or just to get another look at the young girl but the truth is she was looking to see if he looked at her. Never in all their years had Jamie been anything more than a friend. Maybe she'd been so used to Chuck staring at other women and she wanted to know if Jamie was the same way or maybe she was curious if he saw the girl as she did but for some reason it mattered if he looked.
Jamie was in the back talking to some guy she assumed was Dominique and he didn't seem to notice the girl walk in. Michelle watched as Dominique poured Jamie a cup of coffee and handed him a baguette before he turned to go back outside. The girl looked up at Jamie as he walked by but he never gave her so much as a glance; his eyes were fixed on the door and Michelle saw his grin reappear before she turned hoping he didn't notice her staring.
"Who's Dominique?" She asked before he sat down.
"The owner." Jamie told her pulling out the seat next to her. "Dominique bought this place in 2000 to fill the need in New Orleans for real French bread." He continued.
"How did y'all meet?" She asked suddenly interested in the story.
Jamie just stared at her for a second before he answered.
"We met at a bar downtown. He took to me because I spoke French and I liked him because he could provide me with food." He told her picking up his coffee cup for a sip.
Unsatisfied with the story she let it go and moved on to other questions she had.
"What do you do now? Do you work in the city?" She asked, hoping for a good story.
