Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Christmas Eve: that was the traditional big party with my family and the
whole rowdy bunch was at Tootie's for an informal get-together with tables
loaded with everybody's favorite recipes for pies and snacks.  Nieces and
nephews showed up with their spouses and "friends" and it was noted that
Uncle Dan's wife was the youngest of the bunch.  It was interesting, but no
hurdle.  Cindy was dragged into one conversation after another, and after a
little initial apprehension on my part, I soon noted that she was quite
comfortable surrounded by members of her new family.

   Oh, I shouldn't have worried.  Early in the afternoon I was seated on
the sofa with a crowd, and with space at a premium, Cindy was perched on my
knee, innocently dressed in a pine-green sweatshirt that fitted her loosely
but accented that head of red hair like a spotlight.

   Jerry's youngest son Rick was feeling particularly feisty and popped up,
"Uncle Dan, if I'd 'a known you wanted a YOUNG wife, I could fixed you up a
LONG time ago."

   I was taken aback.  I don't think he really meant to be disrespectful,
but I noticed the room get quiet.  And then Cindy stuck her tongue out at
him.

   "Hmph!  Rick, Rick, Rick..." she said.  "He wasn't lookin' for a young
wife.  HE didn't know WHAT he was missing until WE found each other!" And
she twisted and kissed me.  "Right, babe?"

   "Absolutely right, sweetie.  And, uh, Rick, until you fooled Miss
Britney there, any THREE of your previous girlfriends wouldn't've added up
to half a Cindy in intelligence."

   Britney, Rick's freshly-announced fiancée, giggled.  "Uh-huh, Uncle Dan.
He used ta not date women whose IQ's were higher than their hip
measurements." She punched him playfully.  "That meant he settled for a lot
of fifties." Giggle.  "So a couple of 'em would have made two or three
Cindy's on weight, maybe."

   Jerry laughed.  "He's got you there, son!  What'd that last one wanna
be? A nail technician?"

   Britney punched Rick again.  "Yeah, I'm what, the first girl you dated
that graduated college?" Britney was a school teacher.  "Oh, heck!  I'm the
first girlfriend YOU'VE had that didn't have to sing that song to remember
the alphabet!  'Sides, I talked to Cindy.  I KNOW what she's gonna do..."

   Tootie stepped in.  "Yeah, she's gonna graduate high school when she's
freakin' FOURTEEN!"

   Cindy got off my knee, walked past Rick and gave Britney a hug, and
stuck her tongue out at Rick again.  "You better be nice to her, Rick.  She
carries enough sense so that you'll survive on this planet without having
to collect roadkill." And she went in the kitchen and collected up a paper
plate full of little snacks, then sat back on my knee and made an obvious
show of feeding me.

   Tootie got up to do something and walked by, stopping to give Cindy a
hug.  "Way to go, Cin," she said.

   After that, I pretty much didn't worry.  She was family.  Yeah, another
one of Uncle Dan's strange ways, but family nonetheless.

   A pleasant time was had by all.  The informal appetizers and gumbo of
Christmas Eve was succeeded by a full layout of food on Christmas.  The
week between Christmas and New Year's was filled with socializing with
family and old friends.

   Somewhere in there, Cindy and Hanna conspired for another episode of
cutting strange holes in the sky while Greg and I swapped the tires on my
Cessna.  The skies darkened early in December and suppertime found us at
Greg and Hanna's eating schnitzel and drinking wine.  And yes, in good
German tradition, Cindy had her glass.

   The other thing was a "fais-do-do".  For you poor folk who didn't grow
up in south Louisiana, that's "Fay-doe-doe" and it's Cajun, almost
literally, for "bop 'til you drop", an impromptu party of music, food and
friends.  It went down starting with a phone call from my brother.

   "Yeah, Jerry, what's up?" I answered.

   "We got the pavilion at the parish park for Thursday.  Family, friends.
Music.  Your cousins.  They wanna know if you can come an' bring Cindy. 
And your bass." He continued, "It's gonna be fun.  An' if Cindy doesn't
leave after this, she's a keeper." He laughed out loud.

   "I thought I was pushing it with Christmas Eve, " I said.  "Lemme talk
it over with her."

   "It's a good chance to show her the rest of the bunch, Dan."

   "I know," I said.  "Including that part of the family tree that has root
rot."

   "You'll be on stage with them, boy.  You get to play Cajun music with
your cousins." My cousins were just a stage above 'garage band' except they
were pretty adept at the music indigenous to south Louisiana.  One played
fiddle, another accordion, a third guitar.  They could usually scare up a
drummer and I'd filled in on bass guitar more than once.

   The venues tended towards small drinking establishments and social
events like this one.

   "I'm leanin' that way.  But let me run it by Cindy before I say okay." I
kicked the recliner back in our living room as Cindy came through the door
with a bowl of popcorn.

   "Who's that, baby?" she asked.

   "YOUR brother-in-law.  Wants to know if you want to go to a party with a
bunch of drunk Cajuns."

   Her eyebrow arched.  "Do we KNOW any of them?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "You married into the bunch.  They want me to help out
in the band."

   "You mean that Cajun stuff we were listenin' to at Tootie's?  I'd buy a
ticket to watch that."

   I laughed again.  Jerry chuckled.  "Sounds like a 'yes' to me."

   "Okay, we'll be there." He gave me the details.  I dutifully repeated
them to Cindy as she sat beside me.  I hung up.

   "Baby, this ain't gonna be like Saturday nights at the park.  This bunch
doesn't do ANYTHING without alcohol, so there's gonna be some pretty
serious drinkin', and they can get kind of raucous."

   "I can handle that, Dan.  They're goin' there to have a good time,
right?"

   "Yeah.  Jerry will be there early makin' a big pot of gumbo, and there's
gonna be plenty of food.  And beer.  Lots of beer.  And if it runs true to
the last one, last summer, there's gonna be a margarita machine, plus a
soda fountain."

   "Sounds like a production." She regarded me with a little smile.  "Call
Tootie."

   "Tootie?  Why?" I asked.

   "'Cuz she said I needed to learn to dance.  Said these things always
have dancin'."

   "Yeah, there is that.  YOU call 'er.  Tell 'er to come over tomorrow
evening and I'll do a pot roast and we'll trade dinner for dancin'
lessons."

   "And I can watch you cook that roast," she said.  She flipped her
cellphone open and commanded "Tootie" then she smiled at me.

   I laughed.  "I don't EVEN want to know what word you use to call Jerry!"

   She stuck her tongue out at me.  "Oh, hi, Tootie!" Pause.  "Yeah,
remember you said I needed to learn to dance?" Cindy leaned over to put the
phone between our ears so I could hear.

   "Yeah, hon," Tootie answered.  "SO I guess ya'll are goin' to the
fais-do-do, huh?"

   "Uh-huh," Cindy said, a little more excited than me.  "Dan's gonna play
with the band."

   Tootie snorted.  "Band!  Huh!  Get four drunk coonasses (the colloquial
term Cajuns called each other) together and they call it a 'band'.  But
Dan's gonna play, huh?"

   "Yes, he is," Cindy said.  "And there's gonna be dancin'.  An I don't
want to look stupid."

   Tootie laughed again.  "Babe," she said, "with that bunch you could
slide across the floor on your belly pushin' a peanut with your nose and
you'd look like the upper tier.  But me an' Mike are gonna be there, too."

   "Good!" Cindy said.  "Anyway, your brother's cooking a roast tomorrow
an' want's ya'll over for dinner.  And bring some of that music."

   "We'll do that.  His roast ain't as good as mine, but I'm just happy
that I don't have to cook tomorrow."

   "'Kay!  We'll see you about what?  Four-thirty?  Give us time to talk
an' stuff!" Cindy's eyes twinkled at me.

   "Sure.  Can I talk to your worthless husband?"

   "Hi, Toot," I said.  "What's up?"

   "Just want to see if I can bring something..."

   "Pie?" I asked.  "You can buy one.  Just want a little something for a
dessert."

   "You got it, brother," Tootie said.  "An' now I got something to look
forward to at that fais-do-do."

   "Yeah," I laughed.  "Bye!"

   "Bye, Tootie," Cindy said, and then closed the phone.

   She smiled at me.  "Looks like we got ourselves another event, honey!"
and she pushed popcorn into my mouth.

   Dinner the next day was just fun.  We talked, ate then retired to the
den and Tootie and Mike and I got Cindy up to speed on the two dances
necessary for survival at a fais do-do.

   "Remember, baby," Tootie said.  "It's not complicated.  These are made
to be done by drunk Cajuns." And she showed my Cindy how to do the two-step
and the waltz, at least the rudimentary versions we grew up with.

   Tootie and Mike left us and we shut the house down before heading to the
shower together.  The hot water and soft hands worked wonders easing the
stress out of me.  Stress?  Not really.  And if there was any stress, soft
loving with Cindy would've driven it from my happy universe.

   That put us getting up the next day tangled together, letting the first
conscious move I made be a kiss on the top of that tousled copper head. 
Her first sound was an "Mmmmm" and then a squeeze, pulling us closer
together.  "G'mornin', love," she said.

   "Mornin', punkin," I said.  "What's for breakfast?"

   "If I help in the kitchen, can we do grits'n' eggs'n'bacon?  Hmmmm?"

   Now, by this stage of our relationship, Cindy could've asked me to walk
barefoot over hot coals and I would've been peeling my socks off, so
cooking breakfast with her was obviously an easy thing to accept.  We
staggered together to the bathroom.  I hit the sink first, washing my
sleepy face giving her time to free up the toilet, then we changed places.

   The kitchen was a happy set of collisions as we laughed our way through
breakfast prep.  The coffee was dripping as we hit the table with our
plates.  After the meal, we opened the curtains on the window to our back
yard and watched the birds feeding on the ornamental berries of the hedge.

   We bumped around the roads together, had a light lunch, then ended up
back at the house in time to shower and dress for the evening.

   "I'm assuming, hon, that this event doesn't call for my little black
dress, huh?" she swirled out of her closet with that simple black sheath in
front of her almost naked body.

   "Uh, no ...  You're going to be trouble enough in jeans, cutie," I said.

   "Okay," she grinned, "jeans it is.  Now, what about a shirt?" she pulled
another hanger out of the closet, showing me long-sleeved, pine green
cotton.  "You like me in this one," she said.

   She was correct there.  Her pale natural complexion and aged copper hair
color were spotlighted by that dark green.  "Yes I do.  But I don't know if
I want you THAT stunning, sweetie."

   She stuck out her bottom lips, feigning a pout.  "I think you have a
burlap sack in the garage..."

   "No, brown's bad, too..." I laughed.  "Go with green."

   We walked into the pavilion together, me with my bass slung on my back
in a gig bag, Cindy on my arm looking like a vision, every hair in place,
those green eyes twinkling, and a winning smile.  And everybody wanted to
see Uncle Dan's new wife.  I made a noble try at trying to remember names.
I was successful with relatives, but their wives, husbands, boyfriends,
girlfriends, oh well, the target moves too much.

   I left Cindy to her own resources and went to the stage to meet my
cousins to get set up for the music, then retrieved Cindy.  We did a little
food sampling, settling on Jerry's rich gumbo for our dinner meal.  We were
chatting with a succession of people when the sound system squealed.

   "If Uncle Dan will work hisself up here, we'll play a little music," the
fiddle player said.

   I winked at Cindy.  "Stardom calls, little darlin'."

   "Just remember, there, superstar, that you gotta dance with me sometime
tonight." She hauled my face down and kissed me, a move that got squeals
and catcalls from the surrounding crew.

   I took my spot on the stage, and off we went.  Bass player in a Cajun
band.  Tough job, especially when you realize that the musical structure is
driven by the archtypical Cajun musical instrument, a diatonic accordion,
is tuned in a single key, in this case the key of C, so it wasn't hard to
follow the music, and Cajun music is folk music, not fancy.  We did the
fast ones, two-steps, and the slow ones, waltzes.

   The floor filled with dancers.  As my fingers ran on autopilot over
basic rhythms, I watched for a redhead in a green shirt.  Tootie's husband
Mike dragged her onto the floor for the first dance, and every time her
eyes caught mine, she was smiling.  We picked up the next song, a waltz,
and Jerry tagged Cindy.  As he swept her around the dance floor to sad
songs in Cajun French, she smiled and stuck her tongue out at me.  And
crooked her finger.

   When that song finished, I tapped my cousin.

   "Hey, I need to go dance a couple with my wife, Gene."

   "Yeah, go ahead, Uncle Dan.  If you don't, I will.  She's pretty good.
And damn!  That red hair!"

   I put my bass in its stand and stepped down off the stage.  Cindy was
waiting.  I looked back over my shoulder.  "Gene, do us a two-step!"

   Sprightly sounds poured forth and I took this delightful thing in my
arms and we laughed and danced around the floor.  The next song Gene picked
was a sad, slow waltz and I gathered Cindy close against me.  She rested
her head on my chest as we moved to the music.  When the final strains
poured forth, we finished our dance with a kiss.

   I left her on the floor and resumed playing with the band.  Despite the
fact that friends and family had plied the musicians with a steady stream
of beverages, we finally got to a breaking point.

   Gene caught me.  "Hey, Uncle Dan, I figured you'd be getting rusty."

   "Nuh-uh," I said.  "Me an' Cindy play with another family every other
weekend or so, doin' bluegrass in Alabama."

   Cindy smiled.

   Gene asked Cindy, "You play an instrument?"

   "Oh, I wish," Cindy answered.  "I just sing..."

   "You sing?  What kind of songs?" He looked surprised.

   "Oh, a few simple bluegrass things, and a few old rock and roll things.
Dan an' Mizz Ann and Mister Jim play, and I sing.  Sometimes Teresa sings
with me.  She's a year younger than me, and she's Mizz Ann and Mister Jim's
daughter.

   He plied her for song titles.  "Uncle Dan, we can do some of these ...
Cindy, you wanna?"

   "But they're not Cajun," she said.

   "Hah," Gene retorted.  "It's not like we all don't listen to a little
bit of everything here.  Uncle Dan used to play country an' rock and roll.
Me too.  So if you wanna..."

   Green eyes met mine.  "Would it be too embarrassing, love?" she asked.

   "Hardly.  If this crowd can put up with us, you'll lift 'em to a higher
plane."

   She wrapped her arms around me and rested her chin on my shoulder. 
"I'll do it, hon," she said.  "A couple of songs, okay?  That's all."

   So the band's break was over.  We got back on stage.  Gene pulled Cindy
by his side and picked up a microphone.  "Folks, we've been havin' a lot of
fun this evening.  Ay'll all saw Uncle Dan's new wife, Cindy, here.  Well,
I found out on break that Uncle Dan an' Cindy's been singing in Alabama,
and now we're gonna get Miss Cindy to do us a couple."

   Cindy waved a shy little wave, almost like the first night she'd taken
the stage at the RV park in Alabama.

   Gene continued.  "Ya'll all know that Miss Cindy's from Alabama, so this
won't be Cajun, but it's some old rock and roll we all know.  So here's
Miss Cindy Richards."

   I wish I could say we got that much applause when it was just us guys.

   Gene dropped his accordion and walked back, returning with an electric
guitar.  Our fiddle player did the same thing.  Cindy approached the mike,
and we cut loose.  And so did Cindy.  And the crowd didn't let her quit at
two.  We did four, and she walked off the stage, stopping to kiss the bass
player, and on the dance floor, I thought she was going to be mobbed.

   We lapsed back into Cajun favorites and after three dances, Cindy sat
down next to Tootie and turned down several requests for a turn around the
floor.  That is, until I took another leave and danced with my little gem
myself.  After our two dances, she held my hand and escorted me back to the
stage.  And somebody started chanting, "Cin-dy!  Cin-dy!" until she stepped
up on stage again.

   "Okay, folks," Gene said.  "We gonna do dis one more time, but dat's
all. I keep havin' to retrain my fiddle player."

   To laughter and applause, Cindy took the mike, front and center, and we
ripped out a couple more for her.

   Ten o'clock came and it was time to shut things down.  Cindy pitched in
with Tootie and Jerry and their spouses to break down the food part of the
evening while I worked with the music gang, coiling up cables, loading up
equipment.

   Out at the back of the band trailer, Gene caught me.  "Dan, if she could
do Cajun, we could work every weekend, TWO nights.  She's somethin'!"

   "Yeah, she is, Gene.  But she's got college ahead of her next year.  Not
time for a career in Cajun music, I don't think."

   "College?" Ain't she, like, fourteen?  Dat's what I heard..." He looked
at me.

   "You heard right.  But you didn't hear that she's graduating high school
this May.  She's scary smart." I smiled proudly.

   "You a lucky man, Uncle Dan.  Me, I'm envious." He smiled.  "Look, nex'
time ya'll come down, PLEASE let me know, jus' so we can get together an'
let her sing."

   "I'll do that, Gene." The rest of the band was there now.  "Ya'll did
darned good tonight.  We had fun."

   "Yeah," the drummer said.  "Now if it could be just a little more work,
an' a little more money."

   "Don't give me that crap," I laughed.  "You make plenty of money on your
day job." I knew that he worked with an oilfield service company, a young
engineer.

   "Yeah, I know," he said.  "But what's the glamor in drillin' mud..."

   They were laughing when Cindy came bouncing out to see what was keeping
me.  She slid up against my side.  "Thank you, guys!  I had fun singin'
with ya'll."

   Gene spoke for the group.  "Miss Cindy, you can come sing with us ANY
time.  I just told Uncle Dan to PLEASE call me next time ya'll get back
here."

   "We will.  I promise," Cindy said, dragging me away.  She hauled me to
see Tootie and Jerry.  "Ya'll, it's time for us to go.  But we really had a
good time."

   "We did, too, Cindy," Jerry said.  "Dan," he said to me, "Do you, like
wake up every morning thanking god that you have this girl?"

   "Pretty much, brother," I said.  I pulled Cindy around in front of me
and kissed the top of her head.  She twisted to meet my lips with hers.

   "And I thank god that I have him, Jerry.  We have such a good time. 
Like tonight.  And thank you for dancing with me.  I needed to work off
that gumbo of yours."

   Sheila caught his arm.  "between you an' me, we worked some gumbo off
HIS old butt, too, Cindy!"

   Tootie said, "I know ya'll are gonna fly back to Alabama soon as the
weather's good.  Let's get together at our house tomorrow evening.  We can
play cards or something.

   "Food?" Jerry questioned.

   "Pick something up at the market.  Everybody's getting' tired of
cookin'," Tootie said.

   "We'll be there," Cindy answered for both of us.

   "And we're goin' home now.  I'm tired.  Ain't used to dancin' and
playin' late like this," I said.

   Cindy waved as we left.  We climbed into our SUV and headed out of the
parking lot.  She tossed her head back against the headrest.

   "So, Little Miss Rockstar, what'd you think?" I asked.

   She turned those green eyes to me.  "Like nothing I ever imagined, Dan.
You know how, when you're a kid (this coming from a fourteen year old girl)
you imagine how it would be to be a star?  And then you think, 'Yeah, like
THAT'S gonna ever happen...  '?"

   "Yeah," I said.

   "Déjà vu, Dan.  Tonight when they did that 'Cin-dy, Cin-dy!' thing, I
almost fainted, because I had this picture when I was, like, eight..." Her
fingers brushed my face.  "Dan, I love you.  Tonight was one more thing
that you made me part of, that was only a dream..."

   "Well, that was because you're good, and you're waaaay different, too.
Everybody there's heard US before." I smiled.

   "Wait'll I tell Mister Jim an' Mizz Ann."

   "They'll be proud of you too, princess," I said.

   "So when can we do this again, honey?" she asked.

   "Well, baby doll, the project's getting critical now.  But I'm hoping we
can get loose and get down here for Mardi Gras."

   "Like in New Orleans?" she asked.

   "Oh, no, baby.  Mardi Gras here is small town, Cajun tradition.  It's
not NEARLY like what goes on in New Orleans." I told her about Mardi Gras
traditions in Cajun country.  "And there's gonna be a big fais do-do like
tonight, except bigger."

   "If your cousins play an' they have a place for you, I want you to play
with 'em, baby." I looked.  She was smiling.

   "You really liked it that much, sweetness?" I asked.

   The smile covered her face.  "Mmm-hmmm.  I did."

   "Well, little one," I said.  "Tonight was family.  Mardi Gras, maybe
not. And a whole lot more drinkin' an' stuff.  I don't know..."

   She looked at me.  "Seriously, Dan.  Is there anything you and I can't
handle together?"

   "You're right, Cindy.  But that doesn't meant I want to expose you to
that.  Besides, you're fourteen.  I don't know if you can even play in a
commercial establishment that serves alcohol."

   "Okay, you're right." Giggle.  "It happens." Giggle again.  "But if it's
a family thing like tonight, I want us to do it, okay?"

   "Okay.  One hundred percent, baby."

   "Good," she said confidently.  Then she punched the car stereo on.  A
trumpet concerto streamed out of the speakers.  "Time to get my head
straight, Dan."

   "I love this one, Cindy." I was remembering its purchase.

   "I know.  It's one of my favorites, too.  We need to see what's gonna be
live when we get back home."

   "Yes, we do, dearest," I said.  "I want to take you somewhere to hear a
good orchestra.  And give you an excuse to wear that black dress."

   "You like me in that, don't you?" she said.

   "Oh, yes.  I didn't know about that whole 'little black dress' thing
until YOU wore one."

   We were pulling into our drive now.  Minutes later we were inside.  I
locked the door behind me and felt myself pushed backward against it.

   Cindy's hands were on my chest.  "So tell me," she smiled, "Exactly HOW
tired are you?"

   "I'm not THAT tired, redhead," I laughed, scooping her into my arms, her
giggles filling my ears.  I carried her to the bedroom and dumped her in
the middle of the bed, crawling over her.  Her arms wrapped my neck,
pulling our faces together.

   I held her, rolling onto my back, pulling her atop me.

   Giggle.  "These are the arms I wanna be in.  It was fun dancin' an' all,
and I know that dancin' with other guys is just sociable, but I wanted to
be in YOUR arms, Dan." She planted a shower of kisses on my face and neck.

   "I know, baby.  I watched.  I was just a bit jealous, you know, but
there's an advantage, too, when I saw you."

   "What's that, love?" she asked.

   "I got to see how pretty you really are, how you move, how other people
look at you..." I returned the kisses on her neck, reducing her to a wiggly
giggly mess.

   "Well, buddy boy," she said.  "This stuff is yours and yours alone..."
she pulled out of my arms and sat up, unbuttoning her shirt.

   "It's all I ever needed, Cindy.  Even before you were born, you were all
I ever needed."

   She presented me with herself, naked from the waist up.  Beautiful. 
Delightful.  Enticing.  Lowering herself back into my arms, my hands traced
her back, her sides.  She wiggled against my hardness and kissed me deeply.

   "Uh, Dan..."

   "Yes, little one?"

   "Let's shower.  Then start this all over, so we can do it RIGHT!"

   That was an order happily complied with...

   An hour later, sound asleep, completely naked, her head on my chest, her
breath soft in my ears.