no BC (you know bring cash)
Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Chapter 56 (part 1)
Is this the new normal? I wake up and try and be quiet, same as before only with better reason. There are too many people in the Old House. They’re stacked four to six to a room … in rooms built for one or two. Cordwood doesn’t even describe how tight it is. And some would say too many people in my room too. Zeb keeps asking me if things are okay. At first I thought he was talking about between him and I but now I realize he means that Em and I bunking together is kinda freaking him out. Too bad. We’ve worked it out. End of discussion. Mostly. The only glitch is it is so hot at night that there’s no thinking about wearing any kind of real pjs, not that either one of us has any, so we just … don’t look. Mostly. Every once in a while we still embarrass each other but it ain’t a horrible thing and it causes us to laugh as soon as we get over ourselves. At least he is more courteous than some of the knot heads from scouts. Beans don’t upset his stomach as he was raised eating them but he confided that collards sometimes could if he ate too many so he said if he didn’t eat them when I have them on the menu … well you get the idea. I got a fit of the giggles the first time he admitted it. I told him brussels sprouts were my bane and that my last foster home thought they were as necessary as air for living. ‘Nuff said. And yeah we both laughed both at and with each other. Geez, people would think we were nuts. I’m okay with that.
Momma L is back at her house but comes by most days to check on Auntie and Mr. Julius who is a full-time resident at the Big House. Serafine has gone to live with her mother on the weekends when she comes back from Lafayette. Franc and Fontaine went with her because they wouldn’t follow the rules at Momma L’s. Tib is bunking with his dad at Momma L’s and I think he’s happier – and less fritzy – than I’ve ever known him to be.
Momma L gives me a hand with lunch which is usually a great big pot of something over rice. She eats with us and then takes some home to Tib and Mr. Hubert to save on scrip. Mr. Hubert is out of regular work for who knows how long and it is eating at him. Too much piracy and military traffic in the Gulf disrupting the fishing fleets. Situation is really making things hard for people that had come to count on seafood to fill in where beef and other domesticated meats were getting so expensive. He is making up by doing some local hunting and fishing but it isn’t bringing in the same kind of money. Know the feeling but life is what it is right now. I did take a chance and hook him up with Martin Edgar. I think it has helped both men. You need someone you can count on to watch your back.
During the day I do all the crapwork to keep the Big House, Old House, and the two lots on either side in shape. Mr. Julius is on retainer for running the lawn mower which is a good thing because most of his long-time customers have had to cut back on paying someone to do their landscaping. People just don’t have that much scrip to spread around anymore. His house is a total loss. Too much structural damage to primary support features … both floor and attic joists, end joists and corner studs knocked out of plumb, tie beam cracked, and footers and foundation wrecked up. I went over there with Mr. Julius and I stepped inside and just walking across the floor was an adventure in keeping my balance the way things wobbled. We brought out what was salvageable, loaded it on a trailer and it sits packed up in one of Momma L’s unused back bedrooms. At least what Serafine and Tib’s mother ain’t run off with to their new digs. I’d feel sorry for the man if he wasn’t so blasted happy. Fabrice calls what his grandfather and Auntie do making goo-goo eyes at each other. That’s about the truth of it. I swear if I have to hear too much of Auntie giggling like a girl I’m gonna hurl. But … it’s kinda cute too but you wouldn’t get that out of me with a red hot poker. Thinking it makes me want to hurl nearly as much as watching them do it. Ick.
When I’m not doing crapwork, I’m trying to keep the food flowing so we can keep the guests paying. Groceries are going through the roof while dollar bills – or scrip – are dropping through the floor. Lawyers still pay me what they used to but since most of it was in goods rather than scrip it is actually like I get a raise every month. I’m fine with that. I found out the Trust isn’t just the Isabelle but has a “plantation” in it and some other types of businesses. I still don’t know much more than nothing about this Trust. And I don’t know how Auntie got the job to start with. It seems to have something to do with her husband’s family but then again only sorta kinda. Mr. Julius and Momma L don’t speak of it so I figure there’s a Cajun Soap Opera in there somewhere and that makes me a whole lot less curious than I might otherwise be. Seems from reading Uncle Henley’s journal and all those papers that were left to me that I’ve got more than enough of that in my own family; I don’t need to go digging up more of it in someone else’s.
From past to present to future I’ve got enough to figure out. What I’m getting paid is going to need to help me get along down the road if some day here my latest rug gets pulled out from under me. I’ve got so much raw sugar now I’ve had to start keeping it in a barrel in the storage locker. Same for rice. The dried beans I have are in gallon storage jars that I’ve picked up here and there. I throw some of the odds and ends I get in with the Big House meals because sometimes, when Momma LeBlanc is up to it, she teaches me to can and preserve stuff. I’ve got quite a collection going. Not sure why. Em has stopped asking me why when all I can answer is that it feels like what I’m supposed to be doing, that I didn’t ever want to be in the position I was in back in Bradenton when the food was running out. Only one time did we get into a deep conversation about it.
“Ava I’m never gonna let you …”
“Whoa, stop right there Em. There is no letting me or not letting me. I take care of myself.”
“Don’t be hardheaded. I owe you too much …”
“Nope. You don’t owe me nothing.”
He was trying not to get irritated. I could tell. He was also nearly sick with fatigue and was hurting so I cut him some slack. He had work up to his arm pits because of all the things the military wanted and because he had the necessary clearances that most other electricians in the area didn’t have. I gave him a pass as it had been a sour day for him being pulled betwixt and between Colonel Morgan and Colonel Hyland.
“Ava dammit all. Get this through your hard head. If it puts me in my grave I will not see you homeless and have to take to the road again. I’ve seen …” He shook his head. “It’s worse than when you left Florida. A lot damn worse. I won’t have it,” he snarled.
“And I won’t have my best … and maybe best ever … friend take me on like some job. I have not fought this long and hard to be a burden on you, Auntie, society, whatever, whoever. It ain’t happening.”
He looked like he wanted to kick something but since it was getting close to lights out, we had to keep things quiet or risk having everyone in the Old House hearing our business.
“Girl, if something happens you do not run off. You got that?”
“You got something stuck in your ears? Did I say I was going to run off? If something happens I’ll figure it out … and it won’t be by expecting some man to take care of me.”
He got a little quiet and then asked, “Would it be so bad to let some man take care of you?”
The way he said it made me look at him a little closer than I normally would with both of us walking around the room in as little as we could get away with. Heat was bad and we were both already sweating ‘cause all my little fan did was stir up the humidity. Slowly and real carefully I said, “Em, I might be willing to go in partners with a man … some day. But not at the cost of losing my self-respect. Or not in … er … payment for some benefits. It’s partners or nothing.”
“Someday huh.”
“Someday. But I’m not too crazy about the odds right now considering the world is barely limping along like a baby carriage with one square wheel. I don’t want to start out in the hole. I … I need to expect more than that of myself.”
“So … you ain’t totally against it.”
“I am … unless it’s partners. A team. I … don’t necessarily need to be the boss of him, but I do need to be the boss of me.”
He seemed to relax at that and nodded. “Well at least you’re thinking about it.”
“No … not particularly. Only when … someone … you … brings it up. Otherwise I don’t. Maybe if I did think about it I’d be in a bigger hurry to figure things out. But I’m still too far down. Try and come up too quick and maybe I get the bends and screw everything up.”
He cleared his throat then asked quietly, “You’d tell me if … you started thinking about those lines about someone … else?”
I just looked at him not completely sure that I was ready to take that next step. “What about you? You’ll be twenty-nine next month. You’re making good money. Women … even Mona … talk you up all the time. Saying things like … um … you’re a good catch. I go anywhere and someone, some female, always asks about you.”
“How about I know what I want and it isn’t some woman more concerned about my paycheck than she is about me. I damnsure expect to have to hold up my end. But I don’t want some woman that thinks I’m the only one that has an end to hold up. I’m … partial … to the idea of being partners myself. But the reason why you are partners is because sometimes things aren’t equal and that’s when one or the other has to carry more of the load. I don’t want a princess or a high maintenance drama queen. I can wait. As long as it takes. To find that partner.” Then he sighed. “Am I gonna run you off if I stop talking around it?”
“Um …”
“Ava … you can trust me. I promise. I don’t need the benefits right now. What I would appreciate is an understanding that we stay honest and if things go crazy you won’t just up and run off … ‘cause you’re angry or scared or whatever. You’re … look, I get it, you’re young. And truth be I’m not real comfortable with how young you are. It … it doesn’t feel right just yet. But I can see the possibilities.” He sighed and looked out the tiny window over the sink. “There were a few years between my Pere and Mère. My father, he gave me some advice, and some warnings, on taking a younger woman to … er … look, I just understand that your too young right now. But you’re also as damn different from most young women as to turn my head inside out. Just tell me you’ll talk to me before … before making decisions like we started out talking about.”
Is this the new normal? I wake up and try and be quiet, same as before only with better reason. There are too many people in the Old House. They’re stacked four to six to a room … in rooms built for one or two. Cordwood doesn’t even describe how tight it is. And some would say too many people in my room too. Zeb keeps asking me if things are okay. At first I thought he was talking about between him and I but now I realize he means that Em and I bunking together is kinda freaking him out. Too bad. We’ve worked it out. End of discussion. Mostly. The only glitch is it is so hot at night that there’s no thinking about wearing any kind of real pjs, not that either one of us has any, so we just … don’t look. Mostly. Every once in a while we still embarrass each other but it ain’t a horrible thing and it causes us to laugh as soon as we get over ourselves. At least he is more courteous than some of the knot heads from scouts. Beans don’t upset his stomach as he was raised eating them but he confided that collards sometimes could if he ate too many so he said if he didn’t eat them when I have them on the menu … well you get the idea. I got a fit of the giggles the first time he admitted it. I told him brussels sprouts were my bane and that my last foster home thought they were as necessary as air for living. ‘Nuff said. And yeah we both laughed both at and with each other. Geez, people would think we were nuts. I’m okay with that.
Momma L is back at her house but comes by most days to check on Auntie and Mr. Julius who is a full-time resident at the Big House. Serafine has gone to live with her mother on the weekends when she comes back from Lafayette. Franc and Fontaine went with her because they wouldn’t follow the rules at Momma L’s. Tib is bunking with his dad at Momma L’s and I think he’s happier – and less fritzy – than I’ve ever known him to be.
Momma L gives me a hand with lunch which is usually a great big pot of something over rice. She eats with us and then takes some home to Tib and Mr. Hubert to save on scrip. Mr. Hubert is out of regular work for who knows how long and it is eating at him. Too much piracy and military traffic in the Gulf disrupting the fishing fleets. Situation is really making things hard for people that had come to count on seafood to fill in where beef and other domesticated meats were getting so expensive. He is making up by doing some local hunting and fishing but it isn’t bringing in the same kind of money. Know the feeling but life is what it is right now. I did take a chance and hook him up with Martin Edgar. I think it has helped both men. You need someone you can count on to watch your back.
During the day I do all the crapwork to keep the Big House, Old House, and the two lots on either side in shape. Mr. Julius is on retainer for running the lawn mower which is a good thing because most of his long-time customers have had to cut back on paying someone to do their landscaping. People just don’t have that much scrip to spread around anymore. His house is a total loss. Too much structural damage to primary support features … both floor and attic joists, end joists and corner studs knocked out of plumb, tie beam cracked, and footers and foundation wrecked up. I went over there with Mr. Julius and I stepped inside and just walking across the floor was an adventure in keeping my balance the way things wobbled. We brought out what was salvageable, loaded it on a trailer and it sits packed up in one of Momma L’s unused back bedrooms. At least what Serafine and Tib’s mother ain’t run off with to their new digs. I’d feel sorry for the man if he wasn’t so blasted happy. Fabrice calls what his grandfather and Auntie do making goo-goo eyes at each other. That’s about the truth of it. I swear if I have to hear too much of Auntie giggling like a girl I’m gonna hurl. But … it’s kinda cute too but you wouldn’t get that out of me with a red hot poker. Thinking it makes me want to hurl nearly as much as watching them do it. Ick.
When I’m not doing crapwork, I’m trying to keep the food flowing so we can keep the guests paying. Groceries are going through the roof while dollar bills – or scrip – are dropping through the floor. Lawyers still pay me what they used to but since most of it was in goods rather than scrip it is actually like I get a raise every month. I’m fine with that. I found out the Trust isn’t just the Isabelle but has a “plantation” in it and some other types of businesses. I still don’t know much more than nothing about this Trust. And I don’t know how Auntie got the job to start with. It seems to have something to do with her husband’s family but then again only sorta kinda. Mr. Julius and Momma L don’t speak of it so I figure there’s a Cajun Soap Opera in there somewhere and that makes me a whole lot less curious than I might otherwise be. Seems from reading Uncle Henley’s journal and all those papers that were left to me that I’ve got more than enough of that in my own family; I don’t need to go digging up more of it in someone else’s.
From past to present to future I’ve got enough to figure out. What I’m getting paid is going to need to help me get along down the road if some day here my latest rug gets pulled out from under me. I’ve got so much raw sugar now I’ve had to start keeping it in a barrel in the storage locker. Same for rice. The dried beans I have are in gallon storage jars that I’ve picked up here and there. I throw some of the odds and ends I get in with the Big House meals because sometimes, when Momma LeBlanc is up to it, she teaches me to can and preserve stuff. I’ve got quite a collection going. Not sure why. Em has stopped asking me why when all I can answer is that it feels like what I’m supposed to be doing, that I didn’t ever want to be in the position I was in back in Bradenton when the food was running out. Only one time did we get into a deep conversation about it.
“Ava I’m never gonna let you …”
“Whoa, stop right there Em. There is no letting me or not letting me. I take care of myself.”
“Don’t be hardheaded. I owe you too much …”
“Nope. You don’t owe me nothing.”
He was trying not to get irritated. I could tell. He was also nearly sick with fatigue and was hurting so I cut him some slack. He had work up to his arm pits because of all the things the military wanted and because he had the necessary clearances that most other electricians in the area didn’t have. I gave him a pass as it had been a sour day for him being pulled betwixt and between Colonel Morgan and Colonel Hyland.
“Ava dammit all. Get this through your hard head. If it puts me in my grave I will not see you homeless and have to take to the road again. I’ve seen …” He shook his head. “It’s worse than when you left Florida. A lot damn worse. I won’t have it,” he snarled.
“And I won’t have my best … and maybe best ever … friend take me on like some job. I have not fought this long and hard to be a burden on you, Auntie, society, whatever, whoever. It ain’t happening.”
He looked like he wanted to kick something but since it was getting close to lights out, we had to keep things quiet or risk having everyone in the Old House hearing our business.
“Girl, if something happens you do not run off. You got that?”
“You got something stuck in your ears? Did I say I was going to run off? If something happens I’ll figure it out … and it won’t be by expecting some man to take care of me.”
He got a little quiet and then asked, “Would it be so bad to let some man take care of you?”
The way he said it made me look at him a little closer than I normally would with both of us walking around the room in as little as we could get away with. Heat was bad and we were both already sweating ‘cause all my little fan did was stir up the humidity. Slowly and real carefully I said, “Em, I might be willing to go in partners with a man … some day. But not at the cost of losing my self-respect. Or not in … er … payment for some benefits. It’s partners or nothing.”
“Someday huh.”
“Someday. But I’m not too crazy about the odds right now considering the world is barely limping along like a baby carriage with one square wheel. I don’t want to start out in the hole. I … I need to expect more than that of myself.”
“So … you ain’t totally against it.”
“I am … unless it’s partners. A team. I … don’t necessarily need to be the boss of him, but I do need to be the boss of me.”
He seemed to relax at that and nodded. “Well at least you’re thinking about it.”
“No … not particularly. Only when … someone … you … brings it up. Otherwise I don’t. Maybe if I did think about it I’d be in a bigger hurry to figure things out. But I’m still too far down. Try and come up too quick and maybe I get the bends and screw everything up.”
He cleared his throat then asked quietly, “You’d tell me if … you started thinking about those lines about someone … else?”
I just looked at him not completely sure that I was ready to take that next step. “What about you? You’ll be twenty-nine next month. You’re making good money. Women … even Mona … talk you up all the time. Saying things like … um … you’re a good catch. I go anywhere and someone, some female, always asks about you.”
“How about I know what I want and it isn’t some woman more concerned about my paycheck than she is about me. I damnsure expect to have to hold up my end. But I don’t want some woman that thinks I’m the only one that has an end to hold up. I’m … partial … to the idea of being partners myself. But the reason why you are partners is because sometimes things aren’t equal and that’s when one or the other has to carry more of the load. I don’t want a princess or a high maintenance drama queen. I can wait. As long as it takes. To find that partner.” Then he sighed. “Am I gonna run you off if I stop talking around it?”
“Um …”
“Ava … you can trust me. I promise. I don’t need the benefits right now. What I would appreciate is an understanding that we stay honest and if things go crazy you won’t just up and run off … ‘cause you’re angry or scared or whatever. You’re … look, I get it, you’re young. And truth be I’m not real comfortable with how young you are. It … it doesn’t feel right just yet. But I can see the possibilities.” He sighed and looked out the tiny window over the sink. “There were a few years between my Pere and Mère. My father, he gave me some advice, and some warnings, on taking a younger woman to … er … look, I just understand that your too young right now. But you’re also as damn different from most young women as to turn my head inside out. Just tell me you’ll talk to me before … before making decisions like we started out talking about.”
Chapter 56 (part 2)
“You aren’t asking for promises?”
“Naw Cher. Neither one of us is in a position to do that kinda thing. At least not them kinda promises. Just … just promise you’ll at least talk to me if … if …”
“I can do that,” I told him quickly before he spelled it out and I’d have to work harder to not feel guilty.
We haven’t even come close to talking about it again and I’m relieved. I’m not ready for that. I’ve spent so many years thinking that maybe I was old maid material that thinking anything other than that is just too much too different. And too, when a guy is serious enough to talk about stuff like that he’s gonna have expectations. I’m a little worried to ask what Em would have as expectations. I barely know what tomorrow might be bringing much less someone’s expectations for more than that. And the world is just crazy insane right now. And so are the things that keep floating to the top while I try and understand who my family were. I can barely keep up with my day to day chore list.
On top of all the house and property crapwork, there is the gardening and landscaping that takes up at least a couple of hours of my day, every day. I have to harvest the vegetables as soon as they are ripe for freshest taste, to prolong production, and to avoid pest issues. We don’t have the same problems with ‘coons and ‘possums that a lot of people have because Mr. Big and Mr. Bad still patrol the retention pond and the bayou side of the properties. I’ve grown to tolerate them for this reason alone though it is also fun to watch people get their first good look at them and realize dinosaurs still exist. I’ve been harvesting potatoes too, at least the ones that didn’t get assassinated by the nematodes back when I first planted them. The ones that I grew in containers did a lot better than the ones in the ground rows but those that survived in the ground made more and bigger spuds. Finding room to store the things was as much work as growing them almost. We canned a bunch and used them in soups and stuff. I also wound up drying a bunch which was a new one on Momma L. She liked it so well my dehydrator is pretty much kept going every day so long as we have power.
The onions did pretty good. The big ones I store fresh. The others that aren’t as pretty I dry … diced and chopped, and sometimes ground down for onion powder or onion salt. That’s something else Momma L has gotten a kick out of. I think it made her happy to find there are new things for her to learn, to keep life interesting with. I planted some extra rows of okra, black eyed peas, lima beans, and sweet potatoes at her request both in the garden at the Old House and the big cooperative garden. I hope they make because it will mean that not only have we met our needs, we’ve gone over them and have some cushion for in case things get worse in the coming months. I replaced some wore out flower borders with an herb garden and I started with basil, rosemary, and Mexican tarragon. Momma L cackled when I showed her my plans and it reminded me of stories that I used to hear of her being able to put a gris-gris on people. She said she’ll give me “starts” to plant as it is time to expand that area. She’s telling Vadie the same thing.
Vadie is someone that I think I could stand to have around more often than a few other girls I could name. She and Tib fit but I think they’ve both gone cautious. Vadie has a little girl. Cute kid. The father was some guy that she was engaged to after high school. He up and got himself killed in a fight his Freshman year of college. She got kicked out by her step-dad and his parents refuse to acknowledge the little girl is their granddaughter. So Vadie is on her own, or at least on her own as much as she can. Been a few times I’ve taken the little girl and Fabrice to the children’s service at St. Bernard. Dorothee – Dot for short – thinks Fabrice is the best thing since sliced bread because he put the wheel back on her truck. Now poor Fabrice doesn’t know whether to run when he sees her or strut. I keep him busy when I can as I do not want to see him turn into a copy of his uncle. Good lord. Though Fabrice is lucky ‘cause all Dot wants is to be his shadow, not wrap him around her finger. I tell you Auntie and Momma L get a kick out of it though. But even I have to try not and laugh when he lets Dot hold the jar that we put the horn worms and other insects in that we pull off the vegetable plants.
The greenhouse isn’t the only thing that I’ve traded Tib and Em to help me build. I fixed up a chicken tractor. I know that is a dumb name but basically it is a chicken coop on wheels that can be moved around. Fabrice helps me with the chickens and he – and Dot when she comes by at the right time – gets rid of the bugs and worms as protein for the birds. I have to be careful to make sure that the birds don’t become too much temptation for the local wildlife (including Mr. Big and Mr. Bad) but otherwise they’ve turned into a good investment. Colonel Morgan likes his omelets and I’m happy to be able to feed him one as often as he pleases.
January and June are the two rainiest months in the year. Normal is six inches and we’ve gotten almost ten this time. Gators and swamp critters are happy. Water bugs and mosquitos are making babies like mad. The humans and land critters aren’t so happy. I’ve been spending more scrip than I want to on deet and other bug repellents. Getting kinda hard to find to spend it on as well. I all but bathe Fabrice in it before and after school. Gosh almighty the last thing I want – for me or any of us – is to come down with some of the crap you hear about on the news. Malaria, Dengue Fever, Zika, Yellow Fever, and all that stuff from the history books that used to be around. It may be hot as a firecracker but I wear long sleeves, long pants tucked down in my socks, and a hat that I found in Uncle Henley’s gear. It is a sun hat, but it also has a detachable neck and face flap. I gave one of them to Em and he wears his nearly as much as I wear mine even though he has more indoor work.
Momma L and I have a pretty good side business going where we make “all natural” repellents for those that can’t afford the stuff in the store. I leave Momma L to make the deals and I do the delivery and take payment which is usually some kind of trade like seeds, plant starts, or odds and ends that Momma L or someone else might need. I make some of my own trades, like I traded a bottle to Scooter for a couple of extra bolts when he found them in some trade that he took for an oil change. The best seller is the lemon eucalyptus oil. I mix 1 part oil to 10 parts witch hazel. Sometimes I make it stronger but not often. And I make my own witch hazel which cuts back on our cost even more. It is the squirt bottles that are the problem so I tell people that I’ll give them the liquid and they can find a squirt bottle on their own to keep the price down.
Other oils that Momma L and I make sprays with are lavender oil and cinnamon oil. The lavender oil isn’t bad and can be used without cutting it with something else but I’m not real partial to the smell. It can make me sneeze. You don’t want to put cinnamon oil on your skin on purpose. You have to dilute a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon oil to 4 oz. of water or it can cause irritation and burning. The other one we sell a lot of that Momma L makes is she takes her homemade thyme oil and mixes 5 drops of oil to 2 ounces of water. She said her great granmere kept the family safe from malaria in the old days and then LSU did some kind of research study that said thyme oil is one of the best natural repellents for malarial mosquitos. Maybe the old ways shouldn’t be ignored as old wives tales.
I’ve been growing annuals in the green house that Em and Tib helped me to build on Auntie’s property out back of the Old House. It means that Mr. Julius and I can charge the plants back to the Trust that I grow to keep the property up with. Right now I’m doing annuals that can take the full sun during hot summer months, including celosia, portulaca, vinca, and some coleus. But I don’t plant new stuff until the old stuff is completely used up. I remove any dead or old flowers to encourage new growth. I also mix in perennials like zinnia, salvia, and blue sage. I leave the herbicides to Mr. Julius as he seems to know what he is doing best and that is one less thing I have to keep up with.
At the end of the day comes supper and this is where things have changed a bit. Used to be we had to feed everyone whether they are staying in the Big House or the Old House. Not no more. We only cook for the officers staying in the Big House as all the enlisted personnel eat all their meals at a mess hall they’ve set up on the empty lot on the other side of the Old House, where that communication tower thingie is that Em helped them to install and wire for power. Blasted thing is an eyesore in my opinion but it isn’t permanent, or so they claim. Looks pretty doggone permanent to me. It is a communication hub is all I know about it and all anyone seems to want me to know. Even Zeb pokers up if I even seem like I’m gonna ask. That’s fine by me, just don’t ask me to clean it or fix it … your toy, you take care of it.
When there is time I go to see Maurice and what he has in stock – assuming there is anything to be had – or I go “pickin’” with or for Momma L. Let’s see, June I’ve been blackberry picking along roads and fence rows, cut rhubarb in Momma L’s patch, dug potatoes at the co-op and out of containers in back of the Old House, picked cherries and pears on Mr. Julius’ property, helped this old couple I met thru Maurice to clear out their fig trees for a share, picked beans, summer squash, zucchini, and tomatoes at the co-op and out of the garden at the Old House, pulled onions at the co-op as well as taking some in trade for crapwork that Tib put me on to, cut more okra than I think I’ll ever know what to do with so it’s a good thing that Auntie and Momma L do know, got a bunch of blueberries from a shipment Maurice brought in for someone who then told him they couldn’t pay for them … he traded blueberries for helping him to fix the flat roof of his place where it was damaged during the incursion … and last but not least went with Martin Edgar to help out a little old lady that lives on some raised land deep in the swamp.
Hard to believe but there’s about four acres of raised land deep in the swamp where he took me. It’s one of those places that GPS says doesn’t exist. It doesn’t show up on satellite or drone images either … once again because GPS gets all screwed up there for some reason. The old woman doesn’t exist either. I mean she does but not on paper. She was born at home, went to school such as it was at home, stayed with her parents until they died while her brothers went out to “town” and only came by when they wanted to do some hunting … only they’re all gone now as well. Martin claims she doesn’t even have a social security number and her family didn’t participate in the US Census after the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 ran them out of Bayou Chene and after the post office closed there in 1952 they didn’t have any reason to get out much at all.
“You can’t say a word about her Ava. They’ll scoop her up and put her in a nursing home and she’ll be dead within a year,” Martin told me as he pushed his skiff so deep in the swamp that only a trawling motor could be used, and sometimes not even then.
“It’s none of my business how she wants to live … or die.”
“Henley told me the same thing when I introduced him to her. He still helped look after her.”
“What’s you stake in this?”
He gave me a hard look. “I don’t have a stake in this. I do it ‘cause it’s whats right. The swamp is a place you used to be able to and live free.”
“Used to be?”
He never answered me but when he grounded the boat he helped me out and said, “Just … just help me to help her. When I’m gone there won’t be anyone else. Let her live her way of life until she’s free of this earth. That’s … all I’m asking.”
I’m not too sure what I’ve got myself into. Especially after I started piecing all the branches of my family together into one big tree.
“You aren’t asking for promises?”
“Naw Cher. Neither one of us is in a position to do that kinda thing. At least not them kinda promises. Just … just promise you’ll at least talk to me if … if …”
“I can do that,” I told him quickly before he spelled it out and I’d have to work harder to not feel guilty.
We haven’t even come close to talking about it again and I’m relieved. I’m not ready for that. I’ve spent so many years thinking that maybe I was old maid material that thinking anything other than that is just too much too different. And too, when a guy is serious enough to talk about stuff like that he’s gonna have expectations. I’m a little worried to ask what Em would have as expectations. I barely know what tomorrow might be bringing much less someone’s expectations for more than that. And the world is just crazy insane right now. And so are the things that keep floating to the top while I try and understand who my family were. I can barely keep up with my day to day chore list.
On top of all the house and property crapwork, there is the gardening and landscaping that takes up at least a couple of hours of my day, every day. I have to harvest the vegetables as soon as they are ripe for freshest taste, to prolong production, and to avoid pest issues. We don’t have the same problems with ‘coons and ‘possums that a lot of people have because Mr. Big and Mr. Bad still patrol the retention pond and the bayou side of the properties. I’ve grown to tolerate them for this reason alone though it is also fun to watch people get their first good look at them and realize dinosaurs still exist. I’ve been harvesting potatoes too, at least the ones that didn’t get assassinated by the nematodes back when I first planted them. The ones that I grew in containers did a lot better than the ones in the ground rows but those that survived in the ground made more and bigger spuds. Finding room to store the things was as much work as growing them almost. We canned a bunch and used them in soups and stuff. I also wound up drying a bunch which was a new one on Momma L. She liked it so well my dehydrator is pretty much kept going every day so long as we have power.
The onions did pretty good. The big ones I store fresh. The others that aren’t as pretty I dry … diced and chopped, and sometimes ground down for onion powder or onion salt. That’s something else Momma L has gotten a kick out of. I think it made her happy to find there are new things for her to learn, to keep life interesting with. I planted some extra rows of okra, black eyed peas, lima beans, and sweet potatoes at her request both in the garden at the Old House and the big cooperative garden. I hope they make because it will mean that not only have we met our needs, we’ve gone over them and have some cushion for in case things get worse in the coming months. I replaced some wore out flower borders with an herb garden and I started with basil, rosemary, and Mexican tarragon. Momma L cackled when I showed her my plans and it reminded me of stories that I used to hear of her being able to put a gris-gris on people. She said she’ll give me “starts” to plant as it is time to expand that area. She’s telling Vadie the same thing.
Vadie is someone that I think I could stand to have around more often than a few other girls I could name. She and Tib fit but I think they’ve both gone cautious. Vadie has a little girl. Cute kid. The father was some guy that she was engaged to after high school. He up and got himself killed in a fight his Freshman year of college. She got kicked out by her step-dad and his parents refuse to acknowledge the little girl is their granddaughter. So Vadie is on her own, or at least on her own as much as she can. Been a few times I’ve taken the little girl and Fabrice to the children’s service at St. Bernard. Dorothee – Dot for short – thinks Fabrice is the best thing since sliced bread because he put the wheel back on her truck. Now poor Fabrice doesn’t know whether to run when he sees her or strut. I keep him busy when I can as I do not want to see him turn into a copy of his uncle. Good lord. Though Fabrice is lucky ‘cause all Dot wants is to be his shadow, not wrap him around her finger. I tell you Auntie and Momma L get a kick out of it though. But even I have to try not and laugh when he lets Dot hold the jar that we put the horn worms and other insects in that we pull off the vegetable plants.
The greenhouse isn’t the only thing that I’ve traded Tib and Em to help me build. I fixed up a chicken tractor. I know that is a dumb name but basically it is a chicken coop on wheels that can be moved around. Fabrice helps me with the chickens and he – and Dot when she comes by at the right time – gets rid of the bugs and worms as protein for the birds. I have to be careful to make sure that the birds don’t become too much temptation for the local wildlife (including Mr. Big and Mr. Bad) but otherwise they’ve turned into a good investment. Colonel Morgan likes his omelets and I’m happy to be able to feed him one as often as he pleases.
January and June are the two rainiest months in the year. Normal is six inches and we’ve gotten almost ten this time. Gators and swamp critters are happy. Water bugs and mosquitos are making babies like mad. The humans and land critters aren’t so happy. I’ve been spending more scrip than I want to on deet and other bug repellents. Getting kinda hard to find to spend it on as well. I all but bathe Fabrice in it before and after school. Gosh almighty the last thing I want – for me or any of us – is to come down with some of the crap you hear about on the news. Malaria, Dengue Fever, Zika, Yellow Fever, and all that stuff from the history books that used to be around. It may be hot as a firecracker but I wear long sleeves, long pants tucked down in my socks, and a hat that I found in Uncle Henley’s gear. It is a sun hat, but it also has a detachable neck and face flap. I gave one of them to Em and he wears his nearly as much as I wear mine even though he has more indoor work.
Momma L and I have a pretty good side business going where we make “all natural” repellents for those that can’t afford the stuff in the store. I leave Momma L to make the deals and I do the delivery and take payment which is usually some kind of trade like seeds, plant starts, or odds and ends that Momma L or someone else might need. I make some of my own trades, like I traded a bottle to Scooter for a couple of extra bolts when he found them in some trade that he took for an oil change. The best seller is the lemon eucalyptus oil. I mix 1 part oil to 10 parts witch hazel. Sometimes I make it stronger but not often. And I make my own witch hazel which cuts back on our cost even more. It is the squirt bottles that are the problem so I tell people that I’ll give them the liquid and they can find a squirt bottle on their own to keep the price down.
Other oils that Momma L and I make sprays with are lavender oil and cinnamon oil. The lavender oil isn’t bad and can be used without cutting it with something else but I’m not real partial to the smell. It can make me sneeze. You don’t want to put cinnamon oil on your skin on purpose. You have to dilute a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon oil to 4 oz. of water or it can cause irritation and burning. The other one we sell a lot of that Momma L makes is she takes her homemade thyme oil and mixes 5 drops of oil to 2 ounces of water. She said her great granmere kept the family safe from malaria in the old days and then LSU did some kind of research study that said thyme oil is one of the best natural repellents for malarial mosquitos. Maybe the old ways shouldn’t be ignored as old wives tales.
I’ve been growing annuals in the green house that Em and Tib helped me to build on Auntie’s property out back of the Old House. It means that Mr. Julius and I can charge the plants back to the Trust that I grow to keep the property up with. Right now I’m doing annuals that can take the full sun during hot summer months, including celosia, portulaca, vinca, and some coleus. But I don’t plant new stuff until the old stuff is completely used up. I remove any dead or old flowers to encourage new growth. I also mix in perennials like zinnia, salvia, and blue sage. I leave the herbicides to Mr. Julius as he seems to know what he is doing best and that is one less thing I have to keep up with.
At the end of the day comes supper and this is where things have changed a bit. Used to be we had to feed everyone whether they are staying in the Big House or the Old House. Not no more. We only cook for the officers staying in the Big House as all the enlisted personnel eat all their meals at a mess hall they’ve set up on the empty lot on the other side of the Old House, where that communication tower thingie is that Em helped them to install and wire for power. Blasted thing is an eyesore in my opinion but it isn’t permanent, or so they claim. Looks pretty doggone permanent to me. It is a communication hub is all I know about it and all anyone seems to want me to know. Even Zeb pokers up if I even seem like I’m gonna ask. That’s fine by me, just don’t ask me to clean it or fix it … your toy, you take care of it.
When there is time I go to see Maurice and what he has in stock – assuming there is anything to be had – or I go “pickin’” with or for Momma L. Let’s see, June I’ve been blackberry picking along roads and fence rows, cut rhubarb in Momma L’s patch, dug potatoes at the co-op and out of containers in back of the Old House, picked cherries and pears on Mr. Julius’ property, helped this old couple I met thru Maurice to clear out their fig trees for a share, picked beans, summer squash, zucchini, and tomatoes at the co-op and out of the garden at the Old House, pulled onions at the co-op as well as taking some in trade for crapwork that Tib put me on to, cut more okra than I think I’ll ever know what to do with so it’s a good thing that Auntie and Momma L do know, got a bunch of blueberries from a shipment Maurice brought in for someone who then told him they couldn’t pay for them … he traded blueberries for helping him to fix the flat roof of his place where it was damaged during the incursion … and last but not least went with Martin Edgar to help out a little old lady that lives on some raised land deep in the swamp.
Hard to believe but there’s about four acres of raised land deep in the swamp where he took me. It’s one of those places that GPS says doesn’t exist. It doesn’t show up on satellite or drone images either … once again because GPS gets all screwed up there for some reason. The old woman doesn’t exist either. I mean she does but not on paper. She was born at home, went to school such as it was at home, stayed with her parents until they died while her brothers went out to “town” and only came by when they wanted to do some hunting … only they’re all gone now as well. Martin claims she doesn’t even have a social security number and her family didn’t participate in the US Census after the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 ran them out of Bayou Chene and after the post office closed there in 1952 they didn’t have any reason to get out much at all.
“You can’t say a word about her Ava. They’ll scoop her up and put her in a nursing home and she’ll be dead within a year,” Martin told me as he pushed his skiff so deep in the swamp that only a trawling motor could be used, and sometimes not even then.
“It’s none of my business how she wants to live … or die.”
“Henley told me the same thing when I introduced him to her. He still helped look after her.”
“What’s you stake in this?”
He gave me a hard look. “I don’t have a stake in this. I do it ‘cause it’s whats right. The swamp is a place you used to be able to and live free.”
“Used to be?”
He never answered me but when he grounded the boat he helped me out and said, “Just … just help me to help her. When I’m gone there won’t be anyone else. Let her live her way of life until she’s free of this earth. That’s … all I’m asking.”
I’m not too sure what I’ve got myself into. Especially after I started piecing all the branches of my family together into one big tree.
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
nice chapter!
Sportsman
Veteran Member
Kathy, how can you keep all these relationships and past soap operas straight in your mind. Even with an outline and notes, I think I'd get confused before long.
And about that trust. I have the feeling that someday we'll learn that it all belongs to Ava, but don't tell us and ruin the surprise either way it goes!
Thank you. Waiting for that moar.
And about that trust. I have the feeling that someday we'll learn that it all belongs to Ava, but don't tell us and ruin the surprise either way it goes!
Thank you. Waiting for that moar.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
THank you love it.
Laurane
Canadian Loonie
me too .... Penticton ....oooops derailing this story.
Amazing that two Canadians are enjoying a Southern US tale - Like Lili, as a Canadian representative, you really need to get back to writing here.
Chapter 57
“I know you … or of you. I seen them eyes and nose of yours someplace before. Tell me of your momma and them.”
That was my introduction to Yula Mae Levert. Woman is in her nineties if she is a day. Not too sure she’s not in her hundreds to be honest. She didn’t mean it literally of course. Or maybe she did. I’m still not sure. I just know that the phrase is pretty common in this area. It is about like asking “how y’all doing? Or “where y’all from?” down in Florida.
Martin saved me from having to make something up when he told her, “Yula Mae, she’s Henley’s niece.”
She gave me a look that felt like it flayed skin and then bore all the way through me but for all that her look didn’t feel menacing. So I stood there and let her.
“You bein’t scare’t of me?”
“No ma’am,” I answered. “Martin says that I’m here to give you a hand. You’re the employer so you get to look me over. Though maybe you should just point me in the direction of what you want. It’s Sunday and my day from my other work, but I still need to be home by nightfall so I don’t worry a sheep dog and a runt of a boy that counts on me more than he should.”
She looked surprise for all of two seconds then gave a chuckle that sounded like coarse sandpaper before adding a cackle that run the grackles out of the tree near her front porch.
“Good ‘nuff. I want someone to get up in my sarvis trees and clean ‘em out. I mighta done it myself but I done shrunk a couple more inches over this last year I guess ‘cause I cain’t hike my leg up to get into the bottom limbs even with my stool. And don’t go looking at Martin. I may be old but that jes means don’t no one let me or not let me do a thing in this life.”
That made me smile. “Then that’s the first thing we have in common. How about you show me which trees and maybe we can find something else in common. Ma’am.”
She laughed a real laugh this time and I got down to work. And work it most definitely was. I also learned a thing or three. Serviceberry trees are known by a lot of names. Miss Levert tended to call them “Sarvis” or Shadbush trees. Some people know them as Juneberries. Martin told me they are properly known as Amelanchier. I just called them good. Yum yum. It was Miss Levert that told me that people started calling them serviceberry because when they bloom in the Spring – about two weeks before the dogwoods – it was finally warm enough to dig a grave and have a funeral service. That was cheerful trivia for the memory banks.
The ripe berries look to me a lot similar to a blueberry. Flavor isn’t quite the same though. Had kind of an almond flavor to it that sets it apart from a blueberry. She told me to eat what I wanted as I picked as she always got way more than she needed.
“Used ter trade ‘em. Don’t have no one but Martin come by no more. Ain’t much for company ceptin’ my own and the wild things the Lord sends my way. But I might not mind a girl child ever now and agin ifin’ you can mind yerself. You gonna come by now girl?”
“I will,” I told her. “I’ll try and come every couple of Sundays. If I don’t get back that soon it’s not ‘cause of disrespect, just God put something in the way.” She nodded as I had gotten the hang of speaking her language. “You keep a list of what you need done and I’ll get as much done as I can. If you need me before that, however you and Martin communicate, get word to him and I’ll come sooner.”
She sent me home with a big bucket of berries for helping her to clean all the trees out and for not freaking out when I came face to face with a racoon that was nearly as cantankerous as Mr. Bad. She also liked that I knew how to put him down humanely with my crossbow and then gut him and clean him at her direction. She said he’d make her a fine dinner after some soaking, and that there should be plenty left over to can. Alrighty then. Guess I know to be careful if she ever offers a meal as payment for some work.
The old lady wore out and sent us home as soon as I gleaned the last tree. I asked Martin, “She gonna be okay out here by herself? Or is that a stupid question?”
“She’s lived this way her entire life. Right in that shack. I don’t even know if she’s ever been to town, not even to bury her people.”
I gave it some thought before asking, “Her choice or her family’s?”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” he said with a snap to his voice that was rarely there.
“It means that I recognize someone that would have had a label hung on them had they grown up in any other place. It means there are no books in that shack beyond the Bible she showed me that recorded her birth and those of her brothers. She wasn’t reading me the entries … she was reciting them. She also recited that list of things she is low on to you, didn’t hand you a written list. And don’t get sour, I don’t have an issue with her being illiterate. Some of the homeless people I’ve run into were illiterate or the next best thing to it and it didn’t have a thing to do with how smart they were. But she’s … more than illiterate. I just don’t want to take advantage of her accidentally.”
He sighed. “She’s … family. But for God’s sake don’t bring her up to Daniel or Lorelei. And don’t speak about her to anyone that might accidentally let it get back to them either.”
“So family on your mom’s side or your birth father’s? Because I know Lorelei is your half-sister.”
“Who said something?! Did Daniel …”
“Geez Martin, settle down before you flip us over. I avoid your brother and sister like the plague when I can. Lorelei … look, she’s your sister but she’s a strange woman, always passing along stories for your brother to use for who knows what. And Det. Edgar … he’s not my friend. I just haven’t figured out if he is my enemy or not. Then there is your other brother … Remy.”
“You … you know don’t you.”
I told him, “Right now all I’ve got is puzzle pieces. I haven’t put them together yet. I mean maybe a few pieces here and there that make up a small piece of the big picture but … that’s all.”
Martin had let the skiff come to a stop and he gave me a strange look that made me think that I’d rushed picking a side. Then it was like – after a little struggle – he took off the costume of crazy he had chosen to wear.
“Ava, Henley Thibodaux was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He could have held a lot against me but he chose … chose … not to. He could have walked by and left me for dead in the swamp that day so many years ago when neither of us were much more than kids. But he didn’t; even knowing what he did, he didn’t. It was like that story of the Good Samaritan in the Bible my step-dad used to read to us when we were little. I’m the oldest, had the most reason to hate the man that gave me the color of my eyes and the shape of my ears, but even I got pulled in a few times over the years. But a night came I stood up to him and he nearly killed me for it. Henley got me out of there and hid me. Then the ol’ bastard died. I never looked back. Never went back. Met my wife and have no desire to have any of that taint in my life or the lives of those I care for.”
“But?”
“But Remy is every bit as crazy as the man who was our birth father. He got sent to prison for killing a man. I thought that was the end of it. I … I thought with Daniel being so much younger that … that …” He shook his head. “You be careful of Daniel. And you be careful what you say where he might hear of it. And you don’t tell anyone about Yula Mae.”
“Could she get hurt if … maybe Daniel heard she was out here?”
He looked like he wasn’t going to answer me, maybe that he didn’t want to answer me. Then he said something strange. “You know you’ve been followed a few times when you’ve come out here by yourself.”
“You mean they were following me and thought I didn’t know it.”
He blinked. “You knew?”
“Yes. I learned a thing or three about tracking from my Dad and brother, learned more in scouts after they were gone. Learned another thing or three about it from this guy I used to work for and from some homeless people I did trades with. Being on the road made me sharpen those things I learned. When you are the only person left you can count on you either learn things … or you lose things. And one of those things you could lose is your life.” I didn’t tell Martin that I’d also been told and taught by some of the Swamp People that have taken my side in whatever is going on. Why they chose my side I’m not completely sure yet but it ain’t out of the goodness of there hearts, or at least not only for that reason. I also didn’t tell him that while he was good, he wasn’t as good as I was and I’d caught him – and purposefully not lost him – the times that he was the one following me.
I added, “Those men. They aren’t amateurs but they aren’t as good as they think they are. Definitely not as good as they are getting paid to be.” I saw Martin give a little start and knew I’d guessed correctly.
“Ava, you need to watch yourself. If I thought it would do any good I would even suggest you leave here. This place isn’t healthy for … curious people.”
“I haven’t gone asking a question of anyone. What would I ask about anyway? I got enough on my plate just to make it day by day. And the world is in the crap-basket. The only real question I can come up with right now is why was there an incursion over a hundred miles inland at some little town of less than 10,000 people and less than 10 square miles when New Orleans or any other coastal town is right there and would have made a much more spectacular target. There had to be some fools helping them out, right? ‘Course it might be that other people are already asking them questions so I don’t need to.”
Martin paled and started poling up back the way we came.
When he didn’t say anything I added quietly, “But I’m just a nobody girl child with not much to offer anyone. I barely have my GED and only because I was pushed to get it. Got an inheritance but can’t touch it until I’m twenty-one so if there’s something to that, it is far off down the road before I’ll get anything from it … money, a letter, or whatever. Uncle Henley sealed the trust so only the Judge who sealed it knew for sure what was in it, and he got run off the road and killed before I even knew there was a trust to ask about. The lawyer who might have been inclined to tell me moved out of state and when I tried to locate him to ask what I needed to do next, turns out the address he left on file doesn’t exist and no one seems to know where he is. So, the legit questions don’t have people that I can ask for legit answers. So I guess that’s just that.” When he opened his mouth I added, “What I do have on my side is time. And lots of patience for that time to pass. In the end, I don’t have to ask questions because eventually the truth always comes out. Always. I’m just going to have to wait. And I’m good at that ‘cause I know how to keep myself busy and not get rushed and sloppy.”
“Ava, you need to be careful.”
“Martin I am always careful. Even when I’m fighting I’m careful. As the Queen of Crapwork I can’t afford to lose, not even a pawn.”
“You’re talking chess. Like this is a game.”
“Who mentioned chess?” I said using my cross bow to spear a frog. “Auntie said she was in the mood for frog legs. You pole t skiff and I’ll get enough for you too.”
“Ava …”
“This is the way that life works Martin,” I said as I held up the bolt with the frog still wiggling a bit on the end of it. “Or, should I say this is the way life has taught me it works.”
“I know you … or of you. I seen them eyes and nose of yours someplace before. Tell me of your momma and them.”
That was my introduction to Yula Mae Levert. Woman is in her nineties if she is a day. Not too sure she’s not in her hundreds to be honest. She didn’t mean it literally of course. Or maybe she did. I’m still not sure. I just know that the phrase is pretty common in this area. It is about like asking “how y’all doing? Or “where y’all from?” down in Florida.
Martin saved me from having to make something up when he told her, “Yula Mae, she’s Henley’s niece.”
She gave me a look that felt like it flayed skin and then bore all the way through me but for all that her look didn’t feel menacing. So I stood there and let her.
“You bein’t scare’t of me?”
“No ma’am,” I answered. “Martin says that I’m here to give you a hand. You’re the employer so you get to look me over. Though maybe you should just point me in the direction of what you want. It’s Sunday and my day from my other work, but I still need to be home by nightfall so I don’t worry a sheep dog and a runt of a boy that counts on me more than he should.”
She looked surprise for all of two seconds then gave a chuckle that sounded like coarse sandpaper before adding a cackle that run the grackles out of the tree near her front porch.
“Good ‘nuff. I want someone to get up in my sarvis trees and clean ‘em out. I mighta done it myself but I done shrunk a couple more inches over this last year I guess ‘cause I cain’t hike my leg up to get into the bottom limbs even with my stool. And don’t go looking at Martin. I may be old but that jes means don’t no one let me or not let me do a thing in this life.”
That made me smile. “Then that’s the first thing we have in common. How about you show me which trees and maybe we can find something else in common. Ma’am.”
She laughed a real laugh this time and I got down to work. And work it most definitely was. I also learned a thing or three. Serviceberry trees are known by a lot of names. Miss Levert tended to call them “Sarvis” or Shadbush trees. Some people know them as Juneberries. Martin told me they are properly known as Amelanchier. I just called them good. Yum yum. It was Miss Levert that told me that people started calling them serviceberry because when they bloom in the Spring – about two weeks before the dogwoods – it was finally warm enough to dig a grave and have a funeral service. That was cheerful trivia for the memory banks.
The ripe berries look to me a lot similar to a blueberry. Flavor isn’t quite the same though. Had kind of an almond flavor to it that sets it apart from a blueberry. She told me to eat what I wanted as I picked as she always got way more than she needed.
“Used ter trade ‘em. Don’t have no one but Martin come by no more. Ain’t much for company ceptin’ my own and the wild things the Lord sends my way. But I might not mind a girl child ever now and agin ifin’ you can mind yerself. You gonna come by now girl?”
“I will,” I told her. “I’ll try and come every couple of Sundays. If I don’t get back that soon it’s not ‘cause of disrespect, just God put something in the way.” She nodded as I had gotten the hang of speaking her language. “You keep a list of what you need done and I’ll get as much done as I can. If you need me before that, however you and Martin communicate, get word to him and I’ll come sooner.”
She sent me home with a big bucket of berries for helping her to clean all the trees out and for not freaking out when I came face to face with a racoon that was nearly as cantankerous as Mr. Bad. She also liked that I knew how to put him down humanely with my crossbow and then gut him and clean him at her direction. She said he’d make her a fine dinner after some soaking, and that there should be plenty left over to can. Alrighty then. Guess I know to be careful if she ever offers a meal as payment for some work.
The old lady wore out and sent us home as soon as I gleaned the last tree. I asked Martin, “She gonna be okay out here by herself? Or is that a stupid question?”
“She’s lived this way her entire life. Right in that shack. I don’t even know if she’s ever been to town, not even to bury her people.”
I gave it some thought before asking, “Her choice or her family’s?”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” he said with a snap to his voice that was rarely there.
“It means that I recognize someone that would have had a label hung on them had they grown up in any other place. It means there are no books in that shack beyond the Bible she showed me that recorded her birth and those of her brothers. She wasn’t reading me the entries … she was reciting them. She also recited that list of things she is low on to you, didn’t hand you a written list. And don’t get sour, I don’t have an issue with her being illiterate. Some of the homeless people I’ve run into were illiterate or the next best thing to it and it didn’t have a thing to do with how smart they were. But she’s … more than illiterate. I just don’t want to take advantage of her accidentally.”
He sighed. “She’s … family. But for God’s sake don’t bring her up to Daniel or Lorelei. And don’t speak about her to anyone that might accidentally let it get back to them either.”
“So family on your mom’s side or your birth father’s? Because I know Lorelei is your half-sister.”
“Who said something?! Did Daniel …”
“Geez Martin, settle down before you flip us over. I avoid your brother and sister like the plague when I can. Lorelei … look, she’s your sister but she’s a strange woman, always passing along stories for your brother to use for who knows what. And Det. Edgar … he’s not my friend. I just haven’t figured out if he is my enemy or not. Then there is your other brother … Remy.”
“You … you know don’t you.”
I told him, “Right now all I’ve got is puzzle pieces. I haven’t put them together yet. I mean maybe a few pieces here and there that make up a small piece of the big picture but … that’s all.”
Martin had let the skiff come to a stop and he gave me a strange look that made me think that I’d rushed picking a side. Then it was like – after a little struggle – he took off the costume of crazy he had chosen to wear.
“Ava, Henley Thibodaux was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. He could have held a lot against me but he chose … chose … not to. He could have walked by and left me for dead in the swamp that day so many years ago when neither of us were much more than kids. But he didn’t; even knowing what he did, he didn’t. It was like that story of the Good Samaritan in the Bible my step-dad used to read to us when we were little. I’m the oldest, had the most reason to hate the man that gave me the color of my eyes and the shape of my ears, but even I got pulled in a few times over the years. But a night came I stood up to him and he nearly killed me for it. Henley got me out of there and hid me. Then the ol’ bastard died. I never looked back. Never went back. Met my wife and have no desire to have any of that taint in my life or the lives of those I care for.”
“But?”
“But Remy is every bit as crazy as the man who was our birth father. He got sent to prison for killing a man. I thought that was the end of it. I … I thought with Daniel being so much younger that … that …” He shook his head. “You be careful of Daniel. And you be careful what you say where he might hear of it. And you don’t tell anyone about Yula Mae.”
“Could she get hurt if … maybe Daniel heard she was out here?”
He looked like he wasn’t going to answer me, maybe that he didn’t want to answer me. Then he said something strange. “You know you’ve been followed a few times when you’ve come out here by yourself.”
“You mean they were following me and thought I didn’t know it.”
He blinked. “You knew?”
“Yes. I learned a thing or three about tracking from my Dad and brother, learned more in scouts after they were gone. Learned another thing or three about it from this guy I used to work for and from some homeless people I did trades with. Being on the road made me sharpen those things I learned. When you are the only person left you can count on you either learn things … or you lose things. And one of those things you could lose is your life.” I didn’t tell Martin that I’d also been told and taught by some of the Swamp People that have taken my side in whatever is going on. Why they chose my side I’m not completely sure yet but it ain’t out of the goodness of there hearts, or at least not only for that reason. I also didn’t tell him that while he was good, he wasn’t as good as I was and I’d caught him – and purposefully not lost him – the times that he was the one following me.
I added, “Those men. They aren’t amateurs but they aren’t as good as they think they are. Definitely not as good as they are getting paid to be.” I saw Martin give a little start and knew I’d guessed correctly.
“Ava, you need to watch yourself. If I thought it would do any good I would even suggest you leave here. This place isn’t healthy for … curious people.”
“I haven’t gone asking a question of anyone. What would I ask about anyway? I got enough on my plate just to make it day by day. And the world is in the crap-basket. The only real question I can come up with right now is why was there an incursion over a hundred miles inland at some little town of less than 10,000 people and less than 10 square miles when New Orleans or any other coastal town is right there and would have made a much more spectacular target. There had to be some fools helping them out, right? ‘Course it might be that other people are already asking them questions so I don’t need to.”
Martin paled and started poling up back the way we came.
When he didn’t say anything I added quietly, “But I’m just a nobody girl child with not much to offer anyone. I barely have my GED and only because I was pushed to get it. Got an inheritance but can’t touch it until I’m twenty-one so if there’s something to that, it is far off down the road before I’ll get anything from it … money, a letter, or whatever. Uncle Henley sealed the trust so only the Judge who sealed it knew for sure what was in it, and he got run off the road and killed before I even knew there was a trust to ask about. The lawyer who might have been inclined to tell me moved out of state and when I tried to locate him to ask what I needed to do next, turns out the address he left on file doesn’t exist and no one seems to know where he is. So, the legit questions don’t have people that I can ask for legit answers. So I guess that’s just that.” When he opened his mouth I added, “What I do have on my side is time. And lots of patience for that time to pass. In the end, I don’t have to ask questions because eventually the truth always comes out. Always. I’m just going to have to wait. And I’m good at that ‘cause I know how to keep myself busy and not get rushed and sloppy.”
“Ava, you need to be careful.”
“Martin I am always careful. Even when I’m fighting I’m careful. As the Queen of Crapwork I can’t afford to lose, not even a pawn.”
“You’re talking chess. Like this is a game.”
“Who mentioned chess?” I said using my cross bow to spear a frog. “Auntie said she was in the mood for frog legs. You pole t skiff and I’ll get enough for you too.”
“Ava …”
“This is the way that life works Martin,” I said as I held up the bolt with the frog still wiggling a bit on the end of it. “Or, should I say this is the way life has taught me it works.”
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
the plot thickens! Thought provoking chapter, Thank you.
'Coon meat, like a lot of wild meat, varies as to what it has been eating. It is a dark, gamey meat that is helped by soaking or made into a hash to cut the gaminess. Some people will catch a young raccoon and feed it a diet of mush and bland food for a less wild taste. I have eaten it, would eat it again if I have to, just hope that me and mine never gets to that point.
EDIT: Something I just remembered. Use to when 'coons or 'possums were sold, one foot was left on after cleaned and skinned so that people would know it was not a cat or dog.
EDIT: Something I just remembered. Use to when 'coons or 'possums were sold, one foot was left on after cleaned and skinned so that people would know it was not a cat or dog.
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Lytton similar climate no lakeme too .... Penticton ....oooops derailing this story.
Amazing that two Canadians are enjoying a Southern US tale - Like Lili, as a Canadian representative, you really need to get back to writing here.
Lake Lili
Veteran Member
Amazing that two Canadians are enjoying a Southern US tale - Like Lili, as a Canadian representative, you really need to get back to writing here.
Haha... I wish I could! As Kathy can well attest homeschooling a highschooler can suck the life and inspiration out of you some days... we are hard in the middle of Grade 11. Thanks for the vote of confidence (or kick is the derriere) ... and I am still plugging away at "Listen" that is on here in an earlier incarnation.
Meanwhile I am really enjoying Kath's stories and Ava's question is an interesting one...
Sportsman
Veteran Member
Thank you.
Coon. I'm reminded of an annual sportsman's club springtime gathering in my younger days called "the roadkill bbq". No one would ask what was on the grill or in the stew, and no one would eat anything that they, themselves, brought. You didn't know what any of the meat looked like before it was cleaned and cut up or how it was harvested. But, it was really good tasting, though sometimes a little "gamey".
Coon. I'm reminded of an annual sportsman's club springtime gathering in my younger days called "the roadkill bbq". No one would ask what was on the grill or in the stew, and no one would eat anything that they, themselves, brought. You didn't know what any of the meat looked like before it was cleaned and cut up or how it was harvested. But, it was really good tasting, though sometimes a little "gamey".
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, yes sometimes that's how life is. Just waiting. Thank you.
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
As well as a new responsibility, Ava may have just found a bug out location to preposition some supplies?
Ava raised a valid question: What strategic importance dose a hunk of swamp in the middle of nowhere hold? Why is the government chasing people off the land by putting it into reserves? Why didn't the Judge appoint an ad litem to allow Ava some access to the trust for her care and education? Sooo many questions....
Ava raised a valid question: What strategic importance dose a hunk of swamp in the middle of nowhere hold? Why is the government chasing people off the land by putting it into reserves? Why didn't the Judge appoint an ad litem to allow Ava some access to the trust for her care and education? Sooo many questions....
I'm writing up some of Veta 2 that got stuck in my head. I will try very hard to get something on Ava done tomorrow. This week has been a buck kicker and I suspect May is going to be worse as people decide they'd rather use the stimulus money to play with rather than pay bills with.
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Hey I always look forward to your stories but I also understand life and your muse give you different paths. Take care!
Old Gray Mare
TB Fanatic
Be prepared to spend a few days here. Enjoy!
www.fictionpress.com
For more of Kathy's stories and Veta 1:
www.fictionpress.com
Yelysaveta Book 2 Chapter 1, an action fiction | FictionPress
www.fictionpress.com
For more of Kathy's stories and Veta 1:
MotherHeninFlorida | FictionPress
MotherHeninFlorida is an author that has written 23 stories for Action, Sci-Fi, and General.
www.fictionpress.com
One is just what it is … a list. I tried to group the stories together such as when they are trilogies, etc. The other "list" is the catalog that the website creates and the order it is in has more to do with which story was last added to. Two "lists," two different purposes. LOL And yes, I know it is kinda crazy but I had a bunch of people ask me "which story to read first" and that sort of thing.
I have a different catalog on FictionPress and FanFiction but am known as Mother Hen on both of them for those that are interested. Most of them are stories that appeared on the blog but once that whole system started breaking down and becoming difficult I loaded things up to FF and FP.
If you want the list all in one location you can go to Mother Hen's Story Time Blogg and look at the links on the right hand side of the page. They are alphabetical. Click on a link and it will take you to the correct FP or FF location. One of these days I might have my own website but for now I don't have the time for it.
Hope this helps and hasn't made stuff even more confusing. LOL. Ava is the only one I haven't added to the list because for now it is strictly for TB2K members and their friends.