Silent Storm Lesbian Story

02: My Way

02: My Way

"Belle, Cher, how are we looking on the Mayan Sun?"

Delia's thick French-Creole accent cut through the cold air. Mirabelle quickly inventoried the shelves in the cooler. The slightly bitter and rich chocolate ice cream infused with chili and orange was one of the most popular flavors and it never came off the ever-changing menu.

"Looks like we'll need to churn again by the end of the week." She glanced again over the cooler. "Actually, Mama. We need to bump up all our inventory. The students will be back next week. We could probably make more of the Key West Honey and Pineapple Crunch."

"Okay Cher. More water for the cooler too."

"Oui (Yes)! The students will definitely need to drink a lot of water." Mirabelle grimaced for a moment considering the influx of students coming back to Tulane and Loyola. Belle's accent was less heavy but she too peppered French and Creole words into her English. Both men and women alike found the women's voices mesmerizing and attractive.

Delia Fontaine chuckled lightly,"Between the drinking and the heat, they'll be De'pouille (a mess)!"

The Fontaine's shop, like so many small 'main street' shops, relied heavily on the student population. For years they thrived and some they struggled, but the shop, although it was on the younger side, was steeped in tradition and pride and it endured just like their family. Returning students in the fall would mean profit but also all the fallout from student behavior in New Orleans. The first weeks were always the worst.

Belle moved back out front,"Hey Mama, what do you think about putting a sign in the window encouraging the students to come in and get free water from our cooler or fill their water bottles? The new kids are in for a shock. They'll need to hydrate. And I bet we make enough in a couple extra sales to pay for the additional jugs of water."

"Oui, you're right Cher, call Culligan and have them deliver some extra. Make sure we have enough cups too."

Belle looked out over the front of the small specialty ice cream shop. Cane and Cream was in it's15th year as a successful staple in the area. The shop was long and dominated by the ice cream coolers and a smaller section of counter space displayed homemade pralines using the highly guarded Fontaine recipe. A long, wooden built in bench ran the length of the opposing wall with small tables and chairs creating seating for a couple dozen people.

Old family photographs and pictures of the Fontaine family peppered the walls and a large 4' by 4' chalkboard was mounted just inside the door listing the handmade options from week to week. Whatever Creole saying was bouncing around in Delia's head capped the menu board. Currently the script read, "Merci pas coute arien (Thanks costs nothing)."

Mirabelle's dad, Charlie Way, was not from the area. He moved to New Orleans and worked as a highly paid, contract Sub-Sea Engineer on oil rigs. His work schedule was erratic and he didn't make many friends, but it wasn't too long before he met Delia and found himself drawn to her.

Delia fell in love with Charlie. As different as he was from her family, whose line extended back to the first settlers to the area, she pursued him and it wasn't too long before he lost himself in her.

Delia was proud of her very special heritage. When Mirabelle and Julien were born they took French-Creole names and her family surname. Charlie loved everything about Delia and gave her anything she wanted without reservation. While many of the people of New Orleans were Mulatto and much of the population was of mixed and diverse heritage, Delia's family was distinctively French-Creole. Her family line was beautiful in many ways. They carried the traits of the French bone structure and the African large, almond shaped eyes, and soft, flawless complexion. The family held on to their heritage with loving pride and they valued the history of their time in New Orleans.