Page 16 of The Cajun Doctor

They had to park about a half mile away in an overflow lot. Old Jackson might be right about how many people were invited to this reception. Daniel had attended big weddings in the past, but he’d never heard of anything this big. You’d think the bride and groom were royalty or something. Cajun royalty. The William and Kate of the bayou.

Shiiit!

One saving grace was that, from this distance at least, it appeared that the bridal party was the only one in tuxes and gowns. Others were dressed in everything from semi-formal wear to what Aunt Mel would have called church clothes. He and Aaron wouldn’t stand out too much . . . him in a button-down shirt, khakis, and loafers, and Aaron in his usual denim and boots, with a T-shirt that said, “Alaska Air Shipping.” Okay, maybe Aaron would look like a hick, but he wouldn’t.

The crowd filled a huge reception hall, its various side rooms, and spilled out onto several patios that overlooked a golf course. Tents had been erected in the back where it looked as if food would be served buffet style. There was a drink tent, as well, which is where he and Aaron headed. Drink of the day was oyster shooters, which he and Aaron declined in favor of longneck bottles of cold beer. Manna in this heat! Strangely, no one else seemed to mind the high temperatures. At least, they weren’t sweating like pigs, like he and Aaron.

“Let’s go inside, find some air-conditioning,” he suggested, though with this many bodies, he doubted there would be much relief.

The closer they got, the louder the band. More of that twangy Cajun music like they’d heard on the radio. Once inside, they made their way toward the dance floor where a dark-haired man in a tux walked around a wide circle, holding hands with a dark-haired woman in an old-fashioned lace wedding gown. The bride and groom.

“What is it?” Daniel asked an elderly woman next to him.

“La Fleur de la Jeunesse. The Flower of Youth.” The woman sighed. “They doan hardly sing the old songs like this anymore, but Tante Lulu insisted, and that was that.”

Tante Lulu again! That woman sure gets around!

The five-piece band was situated up on a dais at the far end of the massive room. The band’s singer, who wore some kind of washboard contraption over his chest, wailed out the seemingly sad lyrics in Cajun French, followed by an English translation.

“J’avais promis dans ma jeunesse.”

“I promised in my youth.”

“Que je m’aurais jamais marier . . .”

“That I would never marry . . .”

“C’est aujourd’hui qye na tete est couronnée.”

“But today my head is crowned.”

“Et mon Coeur est omé d’un bouquet.”

“And my heart is crowned with flowers.”

“Adieu la fleur de la jeunesse.”

“Goodbye to the flower of youth . . .”

Meanwhile, the bride and groom, still walking the wide circle, were joined by others from the bridal party, then their guests. A long snake of couples circling the room.

But then the band morphed into a different song, this one more upbeat, and the bridal couple began to slow dance in the middle of the dance floor, she with her arms looped around his neck, he with his hands on her hips, almost cradling her butt. They smiled at each other as they swayed to the music. Occasionally, when the crowd clapped, they kissed. They were good dancers. Soon the dance floor was filled. Much laughter and a rebel yell here and there. These were people who enjoyed a good time.

“This really isn’t the right time for us to be connecting with family,” Daniel said.

“You’re right,” Aaron conceded. “Let’s get out of here.”

They set their empty bottles on a table and were about to wend their way back through the crowd when, in a break between songs, they heard a high-pitched female voice exclaim behind them, “Oh, my God!”

They turned as one to see an old woman, no more than five feet tall, in a calf-length red gown, rushing toward them on what appeared to be red orthopedic shoes. A cap of gray curls covered her head, and dangly diamond earrings flashed in her little ears. She wore fake eyelashes. A smear of bright red covered her thin lips, which suddenly spread into a wide smile. She was eighty, if she was a day. Or more.

It had to be the notorious Tante Lulu.

Coming closer, she spread her arms wide in welcome.

What? Are we supposed to hug her, or something?

Yes, Daniel soon realized as the little person, whose head came only to his chest, took his face in both hands and tugged him downward so that she could kiss him on one cheek, then the other.