Epilogue
Gerard stood at the stove in the farmhouse he now shared with Bernie, making scrambled eggs while coffee brewed on the counter behind him.
He wore nice slacks, a white button-down shirt and patent leather shoes. It had been a long time since he’d worn a suit. Thankfully, Bernie had helped him pick out this one. She’d assured him he could use it for multiple occasions, including their wedding, just three short months away.
He'd wanted to get married sooner, but Bernie’s friends talked her into waiting long enough for them to secure a venue and schedule all the things women expected at a wedding.
Bernie said none of that mattered to her, but it made her friends happy to be involved, and she was happy her friends were happy. So, she’d agreed to go along for the ride.
Wearing the suit today wasn’t for a happy occasion but more for closure.
After learning Dean Chauvin was her half-brother, Swede looked further, searching for Bernie’s father.
He found him listed as Bernard Chauvin, former resident of New Orleans.
He’d died over a decade before—the cause of death: heart failure.
Bernie had visited his grave in New Orleans and seemed to have made peace with the memory of her father.
A week ago, the state crime lab had released Dean Chauvin’s foot into Bernie’s custody. No one else stepped forward to claim it. Not even his kingpin grandfather. Bernie arranged for the cremation and wanted to conduct her own small service for the half-brother she’d never known.
“I didn’t know him, and he might not have been a good person,” she’d argued, “but at one point in time, he was someone’s baby. He deserves a send-off.”
Thus, the suit and the patent leather shoes that were still too stiff to be comfortable.
They’d collect the urn from the mortuary and drive over to a point on the bayou where Bernie’s father had taken her fishing as a little girl. They’d say a few words, release Dean’s ashes and be home in time for lunch.
“Uh, Gerard?” Bernie’s muffled voice called out from somewhere in the master bedroom or bathroom.
“Yes, dear?” he responded.
“Remember that night I collected on the naked cooking raincheck?” Her voice was moving closer.
Gerard smiled. They’d cooked lasagna, and he’d made love to her on the kitchen table, on the counter and against the wall. “I remember.”
“Remember how we only had the one condom but made love three times?”
He chuckled. They’d searched the house for more but hadn’t found any and had made love anyway.
Bernie appeared in the doorway, wearing only a bra and lacy panties.
God, she was sexy. His groin tightened. Grease popped in the pan, and he returned his attention to the eggs he was about to burn. “I remember.”
Her voice softened. “Remember how we said we’d wait until after we were married to remodel the guest bedroom and start trying to have children?”
His head shot up, and his gaze locked with Bernie’s.
She brought her hand up from behind her back and waved a plastic wand. “We might want to rethink our project timeline.”
Gerard’s heart leaped in his chest. He let out a whoop! Across the floor in seconds, he crushed her in his arms. “How? When? Is it a boy or a girl? What will we name him? Holy shit! I better get that room remodeled.”
Bernie laughed. “We have time. Eight months should be enough to get ready for baby Guidry, between your work, my farming and the wedding.”
“Babe.” He shook his head, his heart so full he couldn’t come up with words that expressed his happiness. “I love you.”
Bernie smiled, her face glowing. “I love you. And this is just the start. I want at least four children. We’d better plan an addition to the farmhouse in the very near future.”
“I’ll make it happen.” He grinned. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“We’re going to have a house fire if you don’t turn off the stove.”
Gerard started over with fresh eggs like he’d started over life when he’d found Bernie. It was up to him to do it right. With Bernie, he had the confidence and courage to be the best person he could be.
For Bernie and, now, for their baby.