Lifetime Commitment, Part 1

By Willowluvyr
willowluvyr@yahoo.com

Copyright Disclaimers: Xena and Gabrielle are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. The author does not benefit financially in any way from this story.

Rating: NC-17

Note: My thanks to my beta readers for their wonderful help in writing.

Part 1: First Impressions.

First time, I saw her was in our two-room schoolhouse in Plaquemines Parish just west of Buras and the Mississippi River. It was like most rural schoolhouses in 1954. The schoolhouse consisted of two large rooms with several rows of school desks that had a storage compartment under the hinged desktops.

One room was for kindergarten through fourth grade and the other room was for grades five through eight. The rooms were painted a dull gray with white ceiling. A large blackboard faced the class from behind a small desk with a swivel chair. Large windows were open to allow a breeze to enter the schoolhouse and a pair of ceiling fans circulated the heavy, humid air.

I was only ten years old when we first met. She was a tall girl with raven black hair and striking blue eyes. She spoke in what I like to call Cajun English. I figured her to be at least sixteen years old and wondered why she was at the high school, but she sat in the eighth grade row next to me. I was in the eighth grade because I started school early and skipped the third and fifth grade.

My parents were proud of my accomplishments, but those accomplishments left me without any friends. The other children my age where in the fifth and sixth grade. They wouldn’t play with me because I was too uppity. The eighth graders were twelve to fourteen years old and considered me a baby. I was very lonely when I met Justine Noelle Bordelon. She wore patched clothes that were neatly kept and no shoes. She probably had a pair for the winter months, but this was only September and in Louisiana September was, and is a hot month.

I decided I needed to introduce myself, I mean, what did I have to lose and I had something to gain, a friend. So, I just held out my hand and said in Cajun, "Hello, I’m Noel Maxion. What’s your name?"

She looked at my out stretched hand and then her piercing eyes ran up my arm to meet my green eyes. We looked at each other for several moments, until she took my hand and answered, "Justine Bordelon. You’re awful small for thirteen years old."

I had to laugh as I replied, "I’m only ten, but I guess I’m still small for my age."

She nodded her agreement and sat quietly waiting for class to start. I noticed that she didn’t have any paper or pencils. So, I asked, "Do you have any paper or pencil, Justine?"

A defensive look formed on her face, as she replied, "We didn’t have any."

I looked my supplies. I had worked all summer for the money for these things, but I also knew what I was going to do. I took two pads of my paper and six of my pencils and silently pushed them in front of her. She gave a surprised look and said, "These are yours, we can’t pay you for them and I don’t take charity."

I looked into her eyes and saw that she was searching for a reason to keep them, so I gave her one. I responded, "Then you will have to pay me back. I have a few chores you could help me with and that will pay for these things."

She smiled at me and said, "Thank you, Noel. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I... I don... thank you"

I was so pleased that she called me Noel, I almost didn’t notice her divide the two pads of paper in half and give a share to three other boys. Then she gave each boy a pencil. She must have noticed the look of confusion on my face, because she volunteered the information, "Da’re my brudders."

"Dat one’s Henri; he be eight. Dat one’s Pierre; he be six. Dat one’s Andre; he be five," she pointed out each boy, "I got two mo’ brudders at home, day be too little fer school."

It was the first time I ever heard her speak English. She had a lyrical voice that was soft as velvet, but as strong as denim. I fell in love with her that day. I wasn’t to find out until much later that she fell in love with me on that day as well.

The first part of the day was mostly getting the rolls and straightening out the grades. Mrs. Truax saw no problem with Justine and I sitting together. She knew I had no friends, because of my age and understood my need to be next to someone who seemed to like me.

Recess was normally a time I hated. The other children would tease me and many of the older boys would bully me. I always stood up for myself, but it usually just got me beaten up. Today was going to be different. I couldn’t wait to talk to Justine.

Her brothers were all tall for their age, but she was the tallest person in school. She was even taller Boudreaux Thibodeaux, who was my worst nightmare. He knocked one of my teeth lose last year and my dad was so mad he went to the Thibodeaux house. He had a long talk with Old Man Thibodeaux and Boudreaux left me alone for the rest of the year.

I had heard that Old Man Thibodeaux was afraid of my father’s brother. Uncle Claude was a state representative and a member of the Perez machine. Nobody messed with a friend of Old Man Leander. Too many of the Old Man’s enemies went ‘gator hunting..... as the bait.

I walked outside with Justine, who apologized and said she had to get her brothers. So, while she was gathering her siblings, I went and saved us a spot under some shady cypress trees. It was the coolest place in the playground. So naturally, Boudreaux wanted it, too. He came over to me and kicked my feet as I sat on the ground.

He towered over me flanked by his two cronies, the Wilson brothers. So he felt safe to demand, "Get your scrawny butt out of here and go find someplace else, this is my spot. If you don’t move we’ll move you."

I was about to move when I heard a welcome voice say, "I din’t daink so. I daink y’all had better move on or my brudders and me; we’ll hurt chou some, ya."

The three boys turned around and faced the four tall Bordelons. They had very angry faces and it was obvious this would not be their first fight together. Henri spoke next, "Y’all be standing in my way. Iffin y’all din’t move, I’ll smile to move ya. Dat girl done be our friend. Y’all fight her; y’all fight all of us."

Boudreaux was a bully. He was always the biggest and strongest boy in the school, but he knew he was no match for the tall girl in front of him. You could see the sand run out of him. However, if he was going to keep his position as school tough, he had to act now.

So, without warning he swung at Justine with all his strength. I barely saw her move, but I did see the bully’s wild swing miss the girl completely. The momentum of the blow caused him to go plummeting toward the ground. He was helped by a kick in the pants by my new best friend.

The Wilson boys were not so foolish. They held up their hands and went to pick up their friend. As they helped Boudreaux to his feet, Justine said, "Go away. If I catch you picking on my friend again, I will finish this fight."

The three ex-bullies slunk away mumbling. The schoolyard had long been torture by those three, so the other children erupted in cheers at the humiliation of the young terrorists.

The Bordelon boys smiled at me. Henri stepped forward at the urging of his older sister and said, "We want to thank you for the school stuff. We will pay you back, but we also want you to be our friend. You were kind to us and we aren’t used to it. Thank you."

I wanted to ask him, who wrote his lines. I have expected a bow at the end, like people give after making a speech. I smiled and told them, "Come sit down in the shade. This is the coolest spot in the whole playground. If you want, I’ll show you how to earn some money of your own."

The boys looked to their sister with expectation on their faces. Justine looked at her brothers and smiled, "We would like that, thank you. Noel, can you come home and talk to my papa. He will want to meet you. He always told me that there are people like you in the world and didn’t believe him. I’m glad he was right and I was wrong."

My smile was hurting my face as I answered, "I’d love to. I’ll have to stop at the store on the way and tell my sister where I’m going."

The tall girl nodded yes and sat down next to me. After recess, Justine helped me up and motioned for me to go first into the school. She was a real gentleman. The boys were laughing for a second until a look from their sister silenced them.

We went back to our seats and were treated to some poetry from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Walt Whitman is my favorite poet. I saved up enough money two years ago to buy my own copy of Leaves of Grass.

I could feel Justine’s eyes studying me as I listened to the fantastic poetry:

Mrs. Truax started each year with that poem. I knew it by heart. My dream was to teach Walt Whitman in this very school. It was a warm and comforting dream. I had no idea how to accomplish it, but it was my dream.

Mrs. Truax recited one final selection:

That poem captured the attention of my new best friend. I could tell by the look of shear joy in her face as she was moved by the words of the poem. In the years to come, those words would appear on many of her and my possessions.

Lunch proved to be very interesting. It seemed that the Bordelon children didn’t have any lunch. They didn’t say why. So, I did for them what I used to do for me when Boudreaux would take my lunch from me. We foraged.

My grandparent’s farm was not too far from the school and if we were lucky a couple of late watermelons would be let on the vines. It was late in the year, but my grandpa never plowed under this early in the fall. He preferred for the vines to die naturally. Paw Paw, Theo said it was better for the soil. Who was I to argue with him?

As luck would have it three small melons were not rotten, yet. We picked the melons over the protests of Justine. I explained to her that this was my grandpa’s farm and that he wouldn’t mind us picking some melons that were left to rot. So, between the three melons, which were fairly sweet considering the time of year and my two hogshead cheese sandwiches, we ate fairly well.

We were just about through our lunch and ready to go back when Paw Paw Theo passed by. He recognized me and came smiling and waving. The Bordelon children looked frightened despite my reassurances. My grandfather came over and asked, "Hello, what are you children doing here. Did that Thibodeaux boy take your lunch again? I am going to wail that boy’s tail."

"No, grandfather, these are my new friends the Bordelons. They forgot their lunches, so I thought you might have a couple of unpicked melons left," I explained as I gathered the remaining watermelon seeds from the ground.

My grandfather was a wise old man and he could tell that the Bordelon children were well cared for, but were having a hard time, "Well, of course, Princess, I will not see children go hungry when I have food to give them. Tomorrow, I will bring gumbo, huh, cher. The old woman is cooking up a fresh chicken and okra gumbo and you know that gumbo is always better the next day."

I knew my grandmother and it was Monday that meant she was cooking red beans and rice with andoui. Furthermore, Maw Maw never made gumbo. Paw Paw had the special gumbo recipe, which my grandfather intended to go home and make a gumbo for us to eat tomorrow. You just had to love the old man. So, I played along and replied, "Sure, Paw Paw, we will be here and thank Maw Maw for me. We have to get back before the bell. See you Grandfather."

Justine wasn’t fooled. She asked, "Doesn’t your grandmother do the wash on Mondays?"

I smiled shyly and replied, "Everybody does."

Justine thought for a few moments and then said, "My mother always cooked red beans and rice on wash day so she could wash while the beans cooked. I guess its because your grandmother doesn’t have anymore children at home."

I knew she wasn’t fooled for a second, but she wasn’t going to let her brothers go without a good lunch because of her pride. I would find out later, she might go without, but no one she loved would. I walked back to school happily with four good friends.

After school was over, I took my four new friends with me to tell Momma and Papa that I was going to Justine’s house. Momma and Papa owned the small general store in town. Most folks in town thought we had a lot of money, sometimes we did. What those folks didn’t was that when they didn’t have money, we didn’t.

When times were hard, the people lived on credit and paid when they could, but we still had to restock the store and our suppliers didn’t take credit. Right after the war times had been good. The men came back from the war with money in their pockets and many of them had used that money to improve the farm and buy out their shareholders, so they could own their places outright.

However, that money soon was gone and the jobs from the Higgins boat works were hard to get these days. Mr. Higgins had designed the landing craft used by the military to do beach landings. His boat works had worked day and night building Higgins boats for the military. All the men that were too old or too young for the army and some of the women worked at the boat yards.

But now, that the World War and Korea were over, the government was buying that many Higgins boats. Cash money was a scarce thing these days. The only real jobs were at the cat food factory, which is also where I made my spare cash.

I ran trout lines in the bayou and on the river. I kept the eating fish, like sheepheads, trout and flounder and sold the junk fish, like lemonfish, mullets and hardheads to the cat food company. They gave a nickel a pound for any kind of fish.

I loved going into the store. We Cajuns loved our fresh vegetables and the store was filled with the aromas of fresh vegetables and coffee beans. The Bordelons were falling behind as we entered the store. I had to encourage them to come in.

Momma greeted me, "Cher, who be yar friends?"

Momma was smiling ear to ear. I was a late baby. I was the youngest of twelve children my oldest brother was 35 and had two boys and a girl older than I was. My youngest brother was 21 and was at Tulane University. All my family got to go to Tulane. Each year my Uncle Claude got to award one charter scholarship to Tulane. My uncle wasn’t special or anything, every state legislator got award one of these scholarships. In return, Tulane got special treatment versus other private schools.

I knew Momma was smiling because she hadn’t seen me with other children since third grade. Momma knew how lonely I was and the sight of my new friends must have been an answer to her prayers. I knew because Momma crossed herself and looked to heaven.

"Come over to the fountain, Children and will make you a cherry Coke," my Momma was not a woman to ignore. She was only five feet tall, but she had a fire in her that I inherited. Momma had long strawberry blonde hair, which I also inherited from her, and chocolate colored eyes. She was a round middle aged woman who had the hips of a woman that carried twelve children. Momma had just had her fiftieth birthday, but it didn’t show in her bright and friendly eyes.

Momma pushed us towards the counter that housed the soda fountain. It was one of those old fashion soda fountains with the spigots that looked like dragon’s heads and with hand-operated mixers and blenders. The store was one of the few places in town with electricity, but Momma didn’t believe in wasting money on things that could be done just as well by hand.

Momma forced each of us onto one of the padded wooden stools and went behind the counter. She took the white apron that hung from the hook at the entrance to the fountain and put it on. When she had the apron securely tied, she leaned on the counter and asked, "Well, do y’all wont a cherry, lemon, nectar or strawberry Coke?"

Justine was overwhelmed, she had tried unsuccessfully to decline my mother’s offer of Cokes, but Momma was a force of nature and not easy to decline. Papa said Momma was like a hurricane, you either got out of the way or ran for cover and hoped for the best.

Each of the boys looked to their sister with obvious pleading in their eyes, they wanted a Coke, but they knew that their sister had final say. However, Momma was not to be denied before Justine could say a word Momma said, "Don’t y’all know wat y’all wont widout alookin’ to yar sister? Y’all know it be an insult to turn down a gift in dese parts?"

Justine knew she was defeated and simply nodded yes and each of the boys ordered in turn of their age. It was so organized, I had to giggle. Justine looked to me and I said, "Momma knows I always take nectar."

The black-haired girl just smiled and said, "Da same fer me, please, ma’am."

"Err y’all my daughter’s friend," my Momma asked sincerely?

They all nodded yes and Justine openly said, "Ma’am, I ain’t ever knowed a better person in my life and I’m proud to call yar daughter my friend."

That made both my Momma and me smile and my Momma said, "Den y’all have to call me Momma Maxion. I hate being called Grandma or ma’am. It makes me feel old."

Momma put Justine’s Coke in front of her and looked into her eyes and said, "Now, drink up Miss Bordelon, I have ta go git my husband. He’s been wontin’ to talk to one of the Bordelons."

I could see the expression in my friends face turn from joy to apprehension. She sipped her coke, but her eyes were searching for a way out. I put my hand on her arm and whispered, "Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anyone hurt ya. I promise."

I thought I saw a tear in her eye, but it disappeared, along with the apprehension. At that moment Momma came out of the back room with Papa. Papa wasn’t a tall man, he stood only five foot seven inches, but he was an uncommonly strong man. Papa had bought this store from the money he and Paw Paw Theo made from working for Mr. Higgins during the war, where he used his skills as a carpenter.

Papa came out with my old Radio Flyer with its wooden side rail attached. Momma started loading groceries into the wagon, while Papa came over wiping his hands on his blue jean pants. He held out his hand to Justine and introduced himself, "I’m Frank Maxion, y’all kin call me Papa Frank. I heared y’all befriended my little one. Dat’s rait nice. My youngun’s be rait lonely. She bein’ so much younger dan her brudders and sisters."

Papa went behind the counter and started writing on a table as he said, "Now, I heared about wat happened in Tickfaw. It’s a powerful shame people actin’ like dat. We Coon-asses need to stick togeder no? Y’all give dis note to yar papa and take dose groceries wit chou."

Justine nearly choked on her Coke, as she coughed out, "Papa won’t take no charity, sir."

"Tain’t charity. I run a store and I give credit. I won’t see children go widout because of pride. Iffin yar papa wonts he kin talk to me. I’ll be chere. Now, I done told cha to call me Papa Frank," my Papa leaned over and met the young girls eyes with a smile.

I could see her searching my Papa’s eyes for something before she answer, "Yes, sir, Papa Frank."

My Papa patted the tall girl on her arm and walked over to the sugar wafers and started giving us two each. He chuckled at my Momma tsking him, "Two won’t hurt their dinner none atall."

Justine leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You have his eyes and his heart."

The boys were taking turns pulling the wagon to their house, while Justine and I were walking ahead, talking like long lost sisters. I found out that their farm in Tickfaw had been burned down because Justin’s grandpa was Choctaw. For a minute, I thought I saw fear in my friends eyes, but it went away when I said, "That won’t happen around here, because half the people around her have Cherokee relations. My great grandfather on my Momma’s side was Cherokee."

I could see relief in her eyes and I knew that she was afraid that I was going to reject her, because she was part Indian. I decided we needed a change of subject. So, I asked her about her new home. I found out her papa had gone shares with the Heberts, who used to own the place, but had moved away to the City, because Tomas Hebert had gotten a job at one of the big hotels.

After a bit, Justine said, "You will probably have to return these groceries when you go home later. My Papa doesn’t take charity nor does he buy on credit. He has his way of doing things."

I had to smile as I replied, "I won’t take them back. My Papa said that your papa had to return them in person. My Papa is not easy to say no to."

Justine punched me lightly in the arm and responded, "It must be a family trait."

We pulled the little wagonload of supplies up to the house, where we were met by Mrs. Bordelon, who looked every bit an Indian. She looked at the groceries and then asked her daughter, "What is this?"

Justine seemed to be searching for something to say, when I spoke up, "These are groceries that my Papa sent over. We run the general store in town. He told me to tell Mr. Bordelon that he would have to return these in person and he sent a note."

I could see the thank you in Justine’s eyes as she handed her mother the note from my Papa. I hadn’t read the note, but I could see by Mrs. Bordelon’s reaction that everything was going to work out. The heavy-set woman pushed two smaller boys back into the house and said, "Well, bring them in children."

Justine picked up the loaded wagon and put it on the porch. That wagon weighed all of one hundred pounds, I looked at the young teen with newfound respect. Henri pulled the wagon into the house, which had the wonderful aroma of Monday red beans and fresh brewed coffee. Mrs. Bordelon looked at Justine and then at me and said, "You will stay for dinner. We don’t have much, but you are welcome here anytime."

Mrs. Bordelon called her daughter to the side and whispered something. My friend smiled and hurried outside. Mrs. Bordelon signaled for me to go outside and sit down on the porch swing and went inside. I watched through the screen door as the ample woman went into the kitchen.

It was a cool evening. The days were getting shorter and the evenings cooler. I could feel a soft breeze out of the west. It was going to be a beautiful night. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and smelled cypress and magnolia with just a hint of pine.

A man’s voice woke me from my trance by saying, "I like the smell of pine in the evening, too."

I sat up and saw the smiling face of a male version of Justine. He was every bit of six-five and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. He treated me to Justine’s shy smile and asked, "Who might you be child?"

I was rescued from answering that question by Henri, who said, "Papa, this is Noel. She’s our friend. Papa, Momma invited Noel to dinner and Papa, Noel is going to show us how to make money selling cat food."

I managed to find some of my voice and squeaked, "I sell fish to the cannery. I was going to show them how to run trout lines."

"Well, that is very friendly of you. I’m glad my children have found such a good friend so quickly. Come on, let’s wash up for dinner," he ordered as he offered his hand to help me up. Then as we went in he put his arm around my shoulder in a gesture of acceptance.

He shoed us off to the wash table at the side of the house, while he went to talk to his wife who was waving him over. I slyly watched them talking out of the corner of my eye, while I soaped my hands. At first, Mr. Bordelon seemed angry. Then, his wife showed him the note. He read it and smiled. They continued to talk.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder that made me jump. A tall brunette with an evil grin said, "Are you going use an entire bar of soap on washing your hands? Your parents must really like clean hands."

I handed her the soap and apologized with my eyes. I was too embarrassed to say a word. She laughed at my discomfort and said, "Come on rinse your hands and lets go eat. Momma has something special tonight."

We all sat around two tables holding hands to say grace. Mr. Bordelon sat at the head of the big table with Mrs. Bordelon at the other end. Justine sat on her Papa’s right and I, as the guest sat to his left. To Mrs. Bordelon’s right sat her mother. Henri, Pierre and Andre also sat at the big table. The two younger boys Francios and Stephen sat at the smaller table.

The senior Bordelon bowed his head and we followed his lead, as he prayed, "Father in heaven, we thank you for these blessings and ask you to guide and keep us in your son’s name. Amen."

We founded with the litany, "Amen."

The rice was passed around first. Each person took the portion they wanted. Mr. Bordelon noticed my portion and said very seriously, "You know we eat what we take in this house, young lady."

"Yes sir, I understand.," I replied with a smile as I continued to ladle rice onto my plate.

Justine raised an eyebrow as I passed Pierre the large bowl of rice and said, "We have dessert."

"Oooo, I love dessert," I said as I ladled piles of red beans onto my plate.

Mr. Bordelon looked at my plate and laughed, "It appears that small people can perform great feats at the dinner table."

I looked at them curiously as I passed on the bowl of red beans and took two pieces of fresh garlic bread and placed that platter to my right. I was spreading freshly churned butter onto my bread when Mrs. Bordelon passed and put a sizzling link of sausage on my plate.

I was about half way through my beans and rice when I looked up and saw everyone staring. Grandma Hebert laughed and said, "We were wondering if you were going to come up for air."

I tried to hide my blush by drinking some of the fresh apple cider. Justine looked at her Papa and commented, "I guess you’d rather cloth her than feed her."

I must have been near to purple when Mr. Bordelon defended me by saying, "Let the child eat, obviously they don’t feed her enough at home."

Everyone was laughing at my expense when I got back to the business of finishing my beans. After finishing my beans and rice, my sausage and four slices of garlic bread, I was ready for dessert. Mrs. Bordelon poured me another glass of cool cider and put a bowl of bread pudding in front of me. Justine offered me a ladle of lemon sauce, which I was only too happy to accept. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I made it myself."

After dessert the entire family retired to the living room. It was getting dark and I needed to go home. Mr. Bordelon noticed my discomfort and said, "Don’t worry child, I’m going to take you home in my truck. I want to talk to your Papa."

Curiosity got the better of me, so I asked, "What was in that note?"

The older man laughed as he handed her the note, which read simply, "Semper Fi."

I gave him a puzzled look and asked, "What does this mean?"

"It means your father and I are both Marines. That makes us brothers of a sort. Do you understand," asked the tall man?

"Yes, I do," I replied with a lot of meaning.

"Good, let’s get you home," he said, as he went inside to get his truck keys.

Justine came out and announced, "I’m going with you. I’m curious to see if you are going to make it home without exploding."

End of Part 1

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To be continued in Part 2 – The School Year.

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