Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Chapter 64
No plan so I decided to wing it. That may not have been a brilliant choice but that’s all I had at the moment. There was a crowd forming and I was out of time.
I walked up to hear, “Do you know what kind of problems this is going to cause this town?!”
I put on my loudmouth voice and said, “Oh hey, sorry about your buddy Peter getting hauled off to the feds in Lafayette for processing. I guess there’s some kinda thing with there being a war going on that is causing the feds to take a dim view of lying sacks of crap in positions of law enforcement.”
Wylene whirled on me and would have pounced but for once my face brought some luck as it surprised her into silence and more than a couple of others there that had gotten only half the story.
“Yeah, about this,” I said pointing to my eye. “The idiot said I walked into his fist.” I snorted. “You’d think as a cop that’s had to deal with his share of domestic violence calls that he could have come up with a better excuse than that one.” Then I shrugged and dropped the snark to sound concerned, “If he would hit a female like this, maybe Mona is better off without him. Oh hey Maurice! How’s your daughter? She still shook up after that good for nothing ex of hers came in to push her around? Did the cops catch him yet or is he still in the wind?”
That’s when Maurice thought to ask Wylene if she’d gotten any further with her investigation … because you know … just so happens she was the lead on that one. Not that I was using the knowledge I’d gotten through the gossip grapevine or anything. Oh no. Of course not.
Quickly one thing led to another and several open investigations were brought up and suddenly Em wasn’t the one in the hot seat and there were some people openly saying that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if the feds added their manpower to the local po-po since the local cops weren’t exactly solving too many outstanding cases. I didn’t know if that was true or not, and frankly I wasn’t going to get involved, but I was more than happy to have Wylene get a call on her radio that she had to answer right away … in her cruiser … as she was quickly driving away.
Of course I ignored her and asked Em, “Can I put this stuff in your truck? I forgot a couple things.”
“Can you pick them up in town? I need to go check a job site.”
“You shoulda said. I’ll just …”
“No. You won’t,” he said giving me a look that said he knew exactly what I had just pulled and might have a thing or three he wanted to say on the subject.
I stowed the buggy in the back and the box o’ stuff at my feet and we were off. If there was going to be a rodeo I was going to let Em open it so I kept my mouth shut. He didn’t say a word which I admit was getting on my nerves, but I kept at it. He surprised me by pulling into the storage locker building’s parking lot. He got out and I followed him but brought my stuff when me. We were silent all the way up and then into the storage space. He closed the door, locked it and then turned on a radio we keep there.
He looked at me and I could tell he wanted to say something. When he finally did he surprised me. He walked over, brushed an annoying piece of hair that doesn’t like to stay put out of my eye and then looked the shiner I had over then shook his head. “I promised to give you time to clear whatever you got going up. But since I’m backing you, I at least deserve to know if the family is part of this.”
“Your family? No. Not as far as I know. But like I told Vadie, it may come to me not knowing people to keep them out of it. And I need them … you … to understand and not get your feelings hurt over it. Because I am not disrespecting you or …”
He got in my space even more and said, “There is no unknowing me Ava. You can forget that. But have you ever thought that maybe sharing this with a local might give you some … clues … or pieces to a puzzle … or whatever the hell you are looking at?”
I backed up because I could tell he was working real hard on not being mad and losing. He kept looking at my eye and every time he did the steam got a little hotter. To distract him I gave him something else to think about. “Em … I’ve thought about it. And you don’t know how many times I’ve almost put it on the table with you. But this is my mess, my baggage, and I need to clean it up before … before anything else.”
He sighed and sat down on his stool. “Cher, I wish I could say that life worked that way.”
“But it doesn’t. Yeah. Seen it first hand too many times to count. Even when you clean things up there’s still a residue left behind that no amount of scrubbing gets completely out. But if I’m going to be partners with someone, I’m going to minimize my personal crap-o-rama as much as possible.
“You’re not going to talk to me,” he said and I could hear more disappointment in his voice than I could stand.
“I want to but … we need some agreement on this upfront.” He blinked in surprise, like he wasn’t absolutely sure that he’d heard me correctly and if he did, wasn’t sure to trust how fast I’d given in. Nice to know I wasn’t losing my touch. No one wants to become predictable.
“Why kind of agreement?” he finally asked.
“The kind that when I explain what I can you don’t start your own investigation and leave me out, that you don’t get hyper protective, and that you still let me handle it my way. And if my way turns out not to work, we’ll talk about a new way together and not you playing dictator just ‘cause you’re the man in this equation we’re negotiating.
I could see him looking for the trap but in the end he didn’t have a choice. Until he agreed to that I wasn’t sharing.
“Ava … I … I’ll try. You’re giving me the … what you called the other day … the heebies.”
I decided I could live with the qualification because that’s probably all he would have gotten from me if our positions were reversed. I went over to a ratty sofa chair we hadn’t gotten rid of yet, lifted the seat cushion and then pulled out a notebook I’ve been using to try and keep things organized in and Granpere’s puzzle box. We had a card table that we sometimes used when we were up there and pulled everything over to where he could sit on his stool while I paced away the jitters in the limited space I had to work with.
“I’m going to sound nuts. Just … hear me out then decide for sure whether I’m nuts or not.” He nodded. “You know how I said that Uncle Henley must have been preparing for me to come live with him and stuff? How he was cataloging all the old family pictures and papers so I’d know who everyone was and where stuff came from?”
“Yeah. Kinda thing my grandmother did before she passed on. You saying that Henley knew he was going to be shot? Possibly killed?”
“No. I’m saying in hindsight Uncle Henley wasn’t thinking of me at all, but was doing his own research for his own reasons. None of this really has anything to do with me. Mr. Dub kinda clued me in when he explained how he’d been trying to convince Uncle Henley to bring me here, or at least stay in better contact with me and how Uncle Henley wasn’t interested in it.”
“Now Cher, Auntie and the others say that Henley spoke of you.”
“How often? Or did he just mention he had a niece? People just … they want to think the best of people and in hindsight they sometimes twist things to fit their idea of … of what … look, they have all meant well but Uncle Henley …” I pulled out his old journal and sat it on the table. “Uncle Henley wasn’t a bad man. I don’t hold it against him. But he allowed himself to be convinced that I was better off in foster care and then he kept on convincing himself he’d been right because bringing up a child, especially a girl child, would have been problematic.” I raised my hand to stop whatever Em was going to say. “I don’t blame him. I’ve come to accept that is just the way it was. I’ve come to accept he may have even meant well. He left me where I was and then went off to take care of what he called the Old Folks, mostly my grandmother. And not to sound pathetic but Grandmere may have done her duty and loved me, but she didn’t like me. It has taken me a bit to figure out why and it’s convoluted and a bunch of psychobabble but I’m pretty sure, based on a few things I remember and what I’ve read in Uncle Henley’s journals that I’m sure that is the truth.”
“Granmere’s family was a mess. Pa-pere’s family was too. And it just so happens,” I said as I pulled out a particular folder and flipped to one of the pages. “That they were second cousins. Which isn’t really a big deal because apparently that happened a lot back in the olden times. The problem that I discovered was that Granmere only married her first husband because Pa-pere married his first wife. Their parents hadn’t wanted them to get married and back then they managed to pull it off because the community they lived in agreed for whatever reason. Both branches of the family was rural but Granmere’s family lived more of a town life and Pa-pere’s were basically Swamp People. And just to make everything even crazier, Granmere was a Thibodaux and so was her first husband but they weren’t related as he comes from the northern part of Lousiana.”
“So your grandparents had the same surname but wheren’t related?”
“Yeah, it’s been a hoot … not … definitely not … trying to untangle all these blasted people name Thibodaux. And when you throw in the soap opera factor the fun just never ends.” The look on my face made him grimace in sympathy so I kept going. “One of Granmere’s and Pa-pere’s relatives in particular were against the marriage … of Granmere and Pa-pere I mean. It was my grandmother’s sister Sylvee. Her reasons, if I understand some of the old family gossipy letters was that Pa-pere’s brother used to make her life hell because … people say we share a lot of characteristics. Sylvee was just … look she was a bit unique or eccentric and preferred men’s clothes to women’s and had a strong personality and just chose to be herself rather than give into convention. But contrary to a lot of gossip at the time she also preferred men and not the forbidden.” When he looked at me blankly I rolled my eyes. “She wasn’t a lesbian. She liked men … or did once she found one that didn’t come unglued because she was different. It just wound up being later in life so she never had kids of her own.”
“This going somewhere Cher? ‘Cause I’m not understanding how it bears on today.”
I snorted. “You think it is bad now, wait until I pull out the family tree. There are more knot holes, nuts, and twisted branches than any family should have.” And that’s when I did just that and pushed it in his direction. Good thing he was used to reading schematics because otherwise all the crossed lines would make for some serious headache. It is mostly likely all the familiar names that had him frowning and turning it this way and that.
He stopped and looked at me. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish. Go back to that guy that everyone is connected to. His name … or at least the name he was known by … was Clemente Delavoye. Uncle Henley wrote that all his children were illegitimate – and there’s a bunch of ‘em if gossip and some historical records are true. Except for two, both girls, from a woman he’d wed when he was little more than a boy. The Church eventually granted her an annulment but that’s another story. Those two girls were twins. One married a Thibodaux and that’s the line I descend through on Granmere’s side. The other girl married a man and had twin daughters herself. One of those daughters married a Frechette and the other a Levert.”
Emerick seemed to be trying to follow along but even with a schematic it wasn’t easy.
I told him, “Just pretend this all makes sense. It isn’t most on the tree that is important but they do have a little something to do with it. Like pieces of a puzzle. They fit but they aren’t necessarily big or important pieces.” He nodded but it wasn’t a real confident one. Then I started trying to pull it together. “This is the Thibodaux line. It ends with me. I’m it. I have an Aunt Juliette somewhere out there but she and her family don’t count. When they couldn’t break Pa-pere’s will – and I still don’t know why they would want to – Aunt Juliette took her ball and went home vowing never to have another thing to do with anyone else in the family. I don’t know if her Drama Queen routine was an act or if she had valid grievances. I only have Uncle Henley’s side of the story and frankly since she’s never come looking for me I’m not inclined to look for her. So like I said, on the Thibodaux side I’m it, the last one.”
“The same is true for the Frechette side of things … at least the legitimate side.”
“Legitimate side.”
“Yeah. Pa-pere had a couple of brothers. They died young and without children. All except for his twin brother. He’s another one that likes to get it without having to pay for it. His name was Mason and the girl he knocked up had twin sons but he never married their mother and the twin brothers never went by their father’s surname. Pa-pere’s brother may be dead or not, probably is if for no other reason than age, but there’s other reasons to think he’s dead.” I then told him the story that Uncle Henley recorded in his journal. “That’s all I know. I’ve tried looking him up but I haven’t found any records beyond the fact he was born, drafted, survived and then was written off by history and the rest of the family. Or that’s what it seems thus far.”
“Uh huh. Ava …”
“Wait, it gets better.”
“You sure? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it just looks like more crazy.”
“Now you know how I’ve been feeling. Did I mention my family tree is full of twisted branches? Pa-pere’s brother also had twin sons, illegitimate like I said, and this time fraternal. And neither one of them were or are good people.”
“Er … what do you mean this time?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? Up to this point all the twins in the families had been identical. But lucky for us ol’ Great Uncle Mason bucked that trend.”
“And why would that make us lucky?”
Rather than answering directly I said, “The mother of Pa-pere’s illegitmate nephews was named Edgar.”
The look on his face would have been comedy routine material if he wasn’t so serious. “Oh hell no.”
“The first one had three sons … Martin, Remy, and Daniel … then he took off or died. Not even Martin seems to know for sure. The man definitely disappeared either before or after the boys’ mother remarried to a nice man and had a daughter named Lorelei.”
“Ava …” he growled out like he was warning me off something.
“I told you, just wait. It gets better.” He scratched his head in aggravation because he could tell that’s not what I meant at all. “Now the other twin son was given up for adoption at birth. My understanding from what Uncle Henley wrote is that not a lot of people new the truth of that and even the descendants today may not know it. Supposedly the motivation was to try and keep at least one of the sons from turning out like their sperm donor. Unfortunately it didn’t work. That twin son is a well-known local SOB. And before you ask, the reason why I believe Uncle Henley’s ramblings is because the man had twin sons as well … fraternal … one named Dagobert and one named Dante. Do I need to spell the rest of this ridiculous story out?”
“Merde! And that makes you and Frabrice … what?”
“Some kind of cousin and no, I didn’t figure that out until recently. And no, that isn’t the reason I put up with whatever it is Fabrice and I are to each other. I’m not interested in some social worker’s psychobabble on the subject. However, I don’t go looking to be the same with Franc and Fontaine so don’t sweat that one.”
“Well I’ll admit it is a relief but again, I’m not seeing what that has to … do … with …” It was starting to sink in. “You think one of them had something to do with Henley’s death. And it has to do with some family stuff … maybe a feud between … oh hell this is getting complicated.”
I wanted to say tell me about it but I skipped the snark and just kept rolling. “One or more of them, yeah. But now we have to go back to ol’ Clemente. See he was a Cajun pirate … or so family lore and a reasonable amount of research by Uncle Henley declares. And apparently a wealthy one that buried his ill-gotten gains in the swamp when he came here to convalesce when he got to be too old and on too many wanted posters to make pirating in the Gulf a safe career for him. But according to some stuff that Uncle Henley put together he didn’t give up the life all together and became a blackmarketeer … among other things.”
No plan so I decided to wing it. That may not have been a brilliant choice but that’s all I had at the moment. There was a crowd forming and I was out of time.
I walked up to hear, “Do you know what kind of problems this is going to cause this town?!”
I put on my loudmouth voice and said, “Oh hey, sorry about your buddy Peter getting hauled off to the feds in Lafayette for processing. I guess there’s some kinda thing with there being a war going on that is causing the feds to take a dim view of lying sacks of crap in positions of law enforcement.”
Wylene whirled on me and would have pounced but for once my face brought some luck as it surprised her into silence and more than a couple of others there that had gotten only half the story.
“Yeah, about this,” I said pointing to my eye. “The idiot said I walked into his fist.” I snorted. “You’d think as a cop that’s had to deal with his share of domestic violence calls that he could have come up with a better excuse than that one.” Then I shrugged and dropped the snark to sound concerned, “If he would hit a female like this, maybe Mona is better off without him. Oh hey Maurice! How’s your daughter? She still shook up after that good for nothing ex of hers came in to push her around? Did the cops catch him yet or is he still in the wind?”
That’s when Maurice thought to ask Wylene if she’d gotten any further with her investigation … because you know … just so happens she was the lead on that one. Not that I was using the knowledge I’d gotten through the gossip grapevine or anything. Oh no. Of course not.
Quickly one thing led to another and several open investigations were brought up and suddenly Em wasn’t the one in the hot seat and there were some people openly saying that maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if the feds added their manpower to the local po-po since the local cops weren’t exactly solving too many outstanding cases. I didn’t know if that was true or not, and frankly I wasn’t going to get involved, but I was more than happy to have Wylene get a call on her radio that she had to answer right away … in her cruiser … as she was quickly driving away.
Of course I ignored her and asked Em, “Can I put this stuff in your truck? I forgot a couple things.”
“Can you pick them up in town? I need to go check a job site.”
“You shoulda said. I’ll just …”
“No. You won’t,” he said giving me a look that said he knew exactly what I had just pulled and might have a thing or three he wanted to say on the subject.
I stowed the buggy in the back and the box o’ stuff at my feet and we were off. If there was going to be a rodeo I was going to let Em open it so I kept my mouth shut. He didn’t say a word which I admit was getting on my nerves, but I kept at it. He surprised me by pulling into the storage locker building’s parking lot. He got out and I followed him but brought my stuff when me. We were silent all the way up and then into the storage space. He closed the door, locked it and then turned on a radio we keep there.
He looked at me and I could tell he wanted to say something. When he finally did he surprised me. He walked over, brushed an annoying piece of hair that doesn’t like to stay put out of my eye and then looked the shiner I had over then shook his head. “I promised to give you time to clear whatever you got going up. But since I’m backing you, I at least deserve to know if the family is part of this.”
“Your family? No. Not as far as I know. But like I told Vadie, it may come to me not knowing people to keep them out of it. And I need them … you … to understand and not get your feelings hurt over it. Because I am not disrespecting you or …”
He got in my space even more and said, “There is no unknowing me Ava. You can forget that. But have you ever thought that maybe sharing this with a local might give you some … clues … or pieces to a puzzle … or whatever the hell you are looking at?”
I backed up because I could tell he was working real hard on not being mad and losing. He kept looking at my eye and every time he did the steam got a little hotter. To distract him I gave him something else to think about. “Em … I’ve thought about it. And you don’t know how many times I’ve almost put it on the table with you. But this is my mess, my baggage, and I need to clean it up before … before anything else.”
He sighed and sat down on his stool. “Cher, I wish I could say that life worked that way.”
“But it doesn’t. Yeah. Seen it first hand too many times to count. Even when you clean things up there’s still a residue left behind that no amount of scrubbing gets completely out. But if I’m going to be partners with someone, I’m going to minimize my personal crap-o-rama as much as possible.
“You’re not going to talk to me,” he said and I could hear more disappointment in his voice than I could stand.
“I want to but … we need some agreement on this upfront.” He blinked in surprise, like he wasn’t absolutely sure that he’d heard me correctly and if he did, wasn’t sure to trust how fast I’d given in. Nice to know I wasn’t losing my touch. No one wants to become predictable.
“Why kind of agreement?” he finally asked.
“The kind that when I explain what I can you don’t start your own investigation and leave me out, that you don’t get hyper protective, and that you still let me handle it my way. And if my way turns out not to work, we’ll talk about a new way together and not you playing dictator just ‘cause you’re the man in this equation we’re negotiating.
I could see him looking for the trap but in the end he didn’t have a choice. Until he agreed to that I wasn’t sharing.
“Ava … I … I’ll try. You’re giving me the … what you called the other day … the heebies.”
I decided I could live with the qualification because that’s probably all he would have gotten from me if our positions were reversed. I went over to a ratty sofa chair we hadn’t gotten rid of yet, lifted the seat cushion and then pulled out a notebook I’ve been using to try and keep things organized in and Granpere’s puzzle box. We had a card table that we sometimes used when we were up there and pulled everything over to where he could sit on his stool while I paced away the jitters in the limited space I had to work with.
“I’m going to sound nuts. Just … hear me out then decide for sure whether I’m nuts or not.” He nodded. “You know how I said that Uncle Henley must have been preparing for me to come live with him and stuff? How he was cataloging all the old family pictures and papers so I’d know who everyone was and where stuff came from?”
“Yeah. Kinda thing my grandmother did before she passed on. You saying that Henley knew he was going to be shot? Possibly killed?”
“No. I’m saying in hindsight Uncle Henley wasn’t thinking of me at all, but was doing his own research for his own reasons. None of this really has anything to do with me. Mr. Dub kinda clued me in when he explained how he’d been trying to convince Uncle Henley to bring me here, or at least stay in better contact with me and how Uncle Henley wasn’t interested in it.”
“Now Cher, Auntie and the others say that Henley spoke of you.”
“How often? Or did he just mention he had a niece? People just … they want to think the best of people and in hindsight they sometimes twist things to fit their idea of … of what … look, they have all meant well but Uncle Henley …” I pulled out his old journal and sat it on the table. “Uncle Henley wasn’t a bad man. I don’t hold it against him. But he allowed himself to be convinced that I was better off in foster care and then he kept on convincing himself he’d been right because bringing up a child, especially a girl child, would have been problematic.” I raised my hand to stop whatever Em was going to say. “I don’t blame him. I’ve come to accept that is just the way it was. I’ve come to accept he may have even meant well. He left me where I was and then went off to take care of what he called the Old Folks, mostly my grandmother. And not to sound pathetic but Grandmere may have done her duty and loved me, but she didn’t like me. It has taken me a bit to figure out why and it’s convoluted and a bunch of psychobabble but I’m pretty sure, based on a few things I remember and what I’ve read in Uncle Henley’s journals that I’m sure that is the truth.”
“Granmere’s family was a mess. Pa-pere’s family was too. And it just so happens,” I said as I pulled out a particular folder and flipped to one of the pages. “That they were second cousins. Which isn’t really a big deal because apparently that happened a lot back in the olden times. The problem that I discovered was that Granmere only married her first husband because Pa-pere married his first wife. Their parents hadn’t wanted them to get married and back then they managed to pull it off because the community they lived in agreed for whatever reason. Both branches of the family was rural but Granmere’s family lived more of a town life and Pa-pere’s were basically Swamp People. And just to make everything even crazier, Granmere was a Thibodaux and so was her first husband but they weren’t related as he comes from the northern part of Lousiana.”
“So your grandparents had the same surname but wheren’t related?”
“Yeah, it’s been a hoot … not … definitely not … trying to untangle all these blasted people name Thibodaux. And when you throw in the soap opera factor the fun just never ends.” The look on my face made him grimace in sympathy so I kept going. “One of Granmere’s and Pa-pere’s relatives in particular were against the marriage … of Granmere and Pa-pere I mean. It was my grandmother’s sister Sylvee. Her reasons, if I understand some of the old family gossipy letters was that Pa-pere’s brother used to make her life hell because … people say we share a lot of characteristics. Sylvee was just … look she was a bit unique or eccentric and preferred men’s clothes to women’s and had a strong personality and just chose to be herself rather than give into convention. But contrary to a lot of gossip at the time she also preferred men and not the forbidden.” When he looked at me blankly I rolled my eyes. “She wasn’t a lesbian. She liked men … or did once she found one that didn’t come unglued because she was different. It just wound up being later in life so she never had kids of her own.”
“This going somewhere Cher? ‘Cause I’m not understanding how it bears on today.”
I snorted. “You think it is bad now, wait until I pull out the family tree. There are more knot holes, nuts, and twisted branches than any family should have.” And that’s when I did just that and pushed it in his direction. Good thing he was used to reading schematics because otherwise all the crossed lines would make for some serious headache. It is mostly likely all the familiar names that had him frowning and turning it this way and that.
He stopped and looked at me. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish. Go back to that guy that everyone is connected to. His name … or at least the name he was known by … was Clemente Delavoye. Uncle Henley wrote that all his children were illegitimate – and there’s a bunch of ‘em if gossip and some historical records are true. Except for two, both girls, from a woman he’d wed when he was little more than a boy. The Church eventually granted her an annulment but that’s another story. Those two girls were twins. One married a Thibodaux and that’s the line I descend through on Granmere’s side. The other girl married a man and had twin daughters herself. One of those daughters married a Frechette and the other a Levert.”
Emerick seemed to be trying to follow along but even with a schematic it wasn’t easy.
I told him, “Just pretend this all makes sense. It isn’t most on the tree that is important but they do have a little something to do with it. Like pieces of a puzzle. They fit but they aren’t necessarily big or important pieces.” He nodded but it wasn’t a real confident one. Then I started trying to pull it together. “This is the Thibodaux line. It ends with me. I’m it. I have an Aunt Juliette somewhere out there but she and her family don’t count. When they couldn’t break Pa-pere’s will – and I still don’t know why they would want to – Aunt Juliette took her ball and went home vowing never to have another thing to do with anyone else in the family. I don’t know if her Drama Queen routine was an act or if she had valid grievances. I only have Uncle Henley’s side of the story and frankly since she’s never come looking for me I’m not inclined to look for her. So like I said, on the Thibodaux side I’m it, the last one.”
“The same is true for the Frechette side of things … at least the legitimate side.”
“Legitimate side.”
“Yeah. Pa-pere had a couple of brothers. They died young and without children. All except for his twin brother. He’s another one that likes to get it without having to pay for it. His name was Mason and the girl he knocked up had twin sons but he never married their mother and the twin brothers never went by their father’s surname. Pa-pere’s brother may be dead or not, probably is if for no other reason than age, but there’s other reasons to think he’s dead.” I then told him the story that Uncle Henley recorded in his journal. “That’s all I know. I’ve tried looking him up but I haven’t found any records beyond the fact he was born, drafted, survived and then was written off by history and the rest of the family. Or that’s what it seems thus far.”
“Uh huh. Ava …”
“Wait, it gets better.”
“You sure? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it just looks like more crazy.”
“Now you know how I’ve been feeling. Did I mention my family tree is full of twisted branches? Pa-pere’s brother also had twin sons, illegitimate like I said, and this time fraternal. And neither one of them were or are good people.”
“Er … what do you mean this time?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? Up to this point all the twins in the families had been identical. But lucky for us ol’ Great Uncle Mason bucked that trend.”
“And why would that make us lucky?”
Rather than answering directly I said, “The mother of Pa-pere’s illegitmate nephews was named Edgar.”
The look on his face would have been comedy routine material if he wasn’t so serious. “Oh hell no.”
“The first one had three sons … Martin, Remy, and Daniel … then he took off or died. Not even Martin seems to know for sure. The man definitely disappeared either before or after the boys’ mother remarried to a nice man and had a daughter named Lorelei.”
“Ava …” he growled out like he was warning me off something.
“I told you, just wait. It gets better.” He scratched his head in aggravation because he could tell that’s not what I meant at all. “Now the other twin son was given up for adoption at birth. My understanding from what Uncle Henley wrote is that not a lot of people new the truth of that and even the descendants today may not know it. Supposedly the motivation was to try and keep at least one of the sons from turning out like their sperm donor. Unfortunately it didn’t work. That twin son is a well-known local SOB. And before you ask, the reason why I believe Uncle Henley’s ramblings is because the man had twin sons as well … fraternal … one named Dagobert and one named Dante. Do I need to spell the rest of this ridiculous story out?”
“Merde! And that makes you and Frabrice … what?”
“Some kind of cousin and no, I didn’t figure that out until recently. And no, that isn’t the reason I put up with whatever it is Fabrice and I are to each other. I’m not interested in some social worker’s psychobabble on the subject. However, I don’t go looking to be the same with Franc and Fontaine so don’t sweat that one.”
“Well I’ll admit it is a relief but again, I’m not seeing what that has to … do … with …” It was starting to sink in. “You think one of them had something to do with Henley’s death. And it has to do with some family stuff … maybe a feud between … oh hell this is getting complicated.”
I wanted to say tell me about it but I skipped the snark and just kept rolling. “One or more of them, yeah. But now we have to go back to ol’ Clemente. See he was a Cajun pirate … or so family lore and a reasonable amount of research by Uncle Henley declares. And apparently a wealthy one that buried his ill-gotten gains in the swamp when he came here to convalesce when he got to be too old and on too many wanted posters to make pirating in the Gulf a safe career for him. But according to some stuff that Uncle Henley put together he didn’t give up the life all together and became a blackmarketeer … among other things.”
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Wow, it really is twisty twirly!
Thanks for the chapter
Thanks for the chapter
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Twisted alright, we have a few of those in both hubby and my back grounds as well lol, thank you.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Well I knew it was going to be interesting when Ava started to reveal the background to her situation but .... I think I'll brew up a pot of tea & then maybe hit the rack sooner than usual -- my head's still spinning
Obviously never going to be a dull moment going forward
Thank you Ma'am
Obviously never going to be a dull moment going forward
Thank you Ma'am
Nature_Lover
Wait! What?
Thank you Kathy! This is really good...
The old lady in the swamp?
The random incursion in the remote area of the swamp?
The loose ends are gathering and pulling tight, what a tangled skein.
We need to know more about Ava's inheritance, or trust fund, so she can gather more pieces of the puzzle. And loose ends.
The old lady in the swamp?
The random incursion in the remote area of the swamp?
The loose ends are gathering and pulling tight, what a tangled skein.
We need to know more about Ava's inheritance, or trust fund, so she can gather more pieces of the puzzle. And loose ends.
Chapter 65
Em just stared at me. Then stared at me some more. I was fighting a grin and because of that he said, “You’re telling me a tale.”
“Nope. I swear I’m not. Here’s the proof, such as it is,” I told him as I pushed another folder of research towards him.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said eyeing all the old scritch-scratch notes and copies of pages out of books like I was asking him to kiss a gator."
Then my eyes fell on Pa-pere’s treasure box and I lost my appetite for making fun of things. I pulled it towards me and used the secret piece to open the hidden lid I’d finally managed to get all of the rust and corrosion chipped away so had gotten into it. Inside were Indian head nickels, stone arrow points, three rosaries, an envelope that held a ribbon and a clump of hair so fair and fine it could only have belonged to a baby, the stones and feathers other bits I remember him showing me, several Walking Liberty silver half-dollars as well as Liberty Head silver dollars and assorted other odds and ends that meant nothing and everything to me. The tiny skull of an unborn gator. A quarter size turtle shell. A small, handmade field guide of pressed leaves and flowers that he’d used to teach me the names of things. A folding blade that was rusted closed that had the initials MF inscribed on the handle. There were a couple of other envelopes that I didn’t open yet; I knew what was in them, I just wasn’t ready to share. And then there were several folded pages that matched the ones from Uncle Henley’s journal … and for good reason because they were from Uncle Henley’s journal. The missing pages. I pulled them out.
“I guess I’ve told you about Uncle Henley’s journal.”
“Yeah Cher. Made you sad.”
“Sorta, but what I noticed right off, even before I was able to translate it, was that several pages from the end were missing, had been torn out. At the time it made me curious but nothing I could do about missing pages that he might have just used for scrap paper or for lighting a fire or for who knows what.” I then explained about Pa-pere’s treasure box and all the stuff surrounding it including Grandmere keeping it from me, Uncle Henley finding it, and so on and so forth. “Pa-pere meant for me to have this box. It used to be our secret … that I knew how to open the box when no one else in the family did, not even Granmere; or so I thought anyway. I didn’t know I was supposed to inherit it, that part was kept from me … maybe by all of them for some reason but I suspect at least my father caved if Granmere had latched onto it because it ‘reminded her too much of Pa-pere and she wasn’t ready to part with it.’ The one and only criticism I ever heard my mother utter about Granmere was that she was growing manipulative in her old age and it was a good thing that they and Uncle Henley lived so far away.” I shook my head to clear it and stay on topic. “When I found Pa-pere’s treasure box in the boxes that had been put aside for me by Auntie the special secret piece that was used to open it was encrusted and useless. I’m still not sure if Uncle Henley meant for it to be that way. What I am sure is that Uncle Henley didn’t plan on me getting the box like I used to think.”
“Now Cher …”
I opened up the pages and read them to him.
Martin if you’ve got this then they got me. You were right and my brother was right. I should have let this obsession go years ago. And I tried to. Especially after what Uncle Mason did … and what the man I call father had to do as a result. But it just sticks in my craw that they’ve gotten away with so much over the years, including all the pain you suffered, and now on top of it all they are destroying the swamp. This is our home, not theirs. They chose to leave, to become townies. I might have left but I came back. Was welcomed back. I belong. You belong. They don’t.
The only reason they use the swamp is to transport their poisons. If you don’t hear from me again, you know why. Now this next part shames me and I hope you can understand my reasons. Ma mere finally told me the story of the treasure. Took her death bed to do it, that mania I told you about where all things family had to be secret and could only be passed on to the eldest son. She only found out accidentally, listening in on an argument between father and Uncle Mason, and then took a lifetime beyond that for her to acknowledge that I was the one that finally deserved to know. Apparently my father told my brother … but my brother never told me. Or so said ma mere and looking back I’m not sure I would believe her except what I found after he died. After we moved to Florida she used to try and pit the three of us against each other … Donnie, me, and Juliette. Her way of trying to see who loved her more I suppose. Donnie never fell for it and I followed his lead but after he was gone, I didn’t have anyone but her to believe … at least for a while. Juliette fell for it every time and I think that is why things went as wrong as they did on that side.
I wished I had told you sooner, I truly do. But I thought if I did you’d have no reason to be my friend … my brother … my family. If not for you I’d be alone. As much as you credit me for saving you when we were kids, it was you who saved me … then … and now. I finally found my faith yet again … how many times does that make? But by then I’d waited too long. Forgive me if you can. I let ma mere influence me too much. Here is some of the pieces you’ve been missing for your book. It isn’t all of the pieces we need but perhaps you can use it to finish what I’ve started should you desire. I’m thinking you are too smart for that, but you still deserve to know.
We’ve done a lot of work on our family tree so you’ll recognize the first name on the list. Old Clemente, that rascally pirate. He died leaving everything to his eldest son, a Creole whose mother was Caribbean. However it happened, and even ma mere told the story more than one way, the brother decided to share at least some of the inheritance with his younger siblings, plus the three daughters of his legitimate sisters. But most of it he left where his father had buried it … a location near Bayou Chene. Over the years the family used Old Clemente’s treasure as a savings bank of sorts but only the patriarch of each branch knew the secret of it and the location where it rested. When each child married they received a few of the coins or other treasure buried with them, but were told to keep it secret and only liquidate it in extreme emergencies otherwise something terrible would befall the family … a gris gris was on the treasure and it was more bad luck than good. At their death, if they had not used the treasure, they were to bequeath it to their eldest son. So on and so forth. And only children born legitimate received a portion. I think that part came from Old Clemente himself as a way to atone. The story goes he wasn’t afraid of death so much as the judgement the priests say comes after it. His eldest son was a priest and he made his choices as a way to prevent Old Clemente from contaminating the future generations … that unto the third and fourth generations curse too often mentioned in our families … and proven to be true.
Old Clemente was long-lived as was many in the next two generations. Two or three generations doesn’t seem long until you realize the legitimate members of our family often lived to be near a hundred years and the men often married late and had children even later. This happened a lot longer ago than either one of us thought. My research files should be nearby this box. Look at the tree. There’s still things that don’t make sense but it is the best I can do when so many records have been destroyed or lost.
As I was told it was the Great Flood of 1927 that turned the tide and changed the course set by Father Delavoye, the eldest son of Old Clemente. It destroyed the treasure’s hiding place and the family was devastated with not a few members lost when the community was nearly washed away. The three patriarchs of that time survived … Thibodaux, Frechette, and Levert. Those three men found what was left of the treasure and divided it up amongst their families. Levert with the most legitimate children got the greatest amount. Then came Frechette. Lastly Thibodaux as the fewest in number. Thus was born the family legend. The Leverts used their portion to move out of Bayou Chene and even deeper into the swamp. Ma mere’s family skipped her because of her first husband being such a wastrel though her family were just as bad in their own way. And you’ve explained what you’ve found over the years.
From that point in the family saga, all of us have spent time looking for the rest of the treasure when we were boys. Some of us never outgrew it. I think Aunt Sylvee may have found some of it … a few pieces at least … an that’s how she could afford to live on her own for most of her life. Ma mere seemed to think so. You know what else she thought. With what I’ve found it’s possible they had an affair but that was years before Aunt Sylvee married and even before ma mere’s marriage … the first or the second. I remember hearing the argument once. He didn’t deny it but he told her to stop worrying what came before, that none of that mattered because he’d come to fetch her, it was ma mere he chose to spend his life with, to set things right the way they should have been if they hadn’t listened to the rest of the family when they were so young.
Do I believe what she told me? I’m honestly not sure though facts do fit. The problem is that the mania only worsened after my father died. And, in the last year of her life ma mere’s wandering mind showed her mania and illness crossed boundaries that shouldn’t have been crossed. One way was she thought that somehow Ava was Sylvee’s grandchild rather than hers, that Uncle Moss had switched babies during the kidnapping and that Ava was a Rougarou changeling. She would get hysterical if any talk of leaving the home place came up. Those few things alone made it impossible to bring my niece here even if I had followed through on what you Dub said I should do.
I think part of why she kept her secrets as long as she did was that ma mere suspected that my father was going to break tradition, give treasure to a girl child instead of a male heir. I don’t hold it against my niece, it does make me question what she knows or remembers. I tried a few times to ask and her blank reaction makes me think she knows little of our family and nothing of the legend. However, in hindsight, I’m not too worried that is going to be a problem. Donnie was strict that what he called “that nonsense” was never fed to his kids. He all but dared me to even play pirates or similar with my nephew. I was as shocked as you can imagine when I found those coins that I showed you when Donnie died. He probably got them when he married. Got them and then hid them away, even from himself, despite the fact we could have used them to grow the business the way we should have. Or maybe our father gave them to him after what Uncle Mason did. It was about that time that Donnie got so damn rabid on the subject. I’m not sure, and not sure it matters anymore except I intend on asking when I get passed the Pearly Gates.
Maybe if I had shown you and told you these things sooner, we could have worked things out together. You would have finished your novel and I could have finally stopped being driven to look, perhaps could have finally settled down.
What I’ve never shown you or even told you is what I found when I opened my father’s aptly named treasure box. You’ll never believe me without seeing it for yourself and I have no one else to leave them to so I want you to have mine and the contents of this box. You take it all and get you and your family out. Or buy Remy and Danny off so they won’t keep trying to pull you in. Maybe I made a mistake coming back but there was no one else that needed me. And if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have found a brother to replace the one I lost. So though our surnames are different, this is me, Henley Thibodaux, the last Thibodaux, third generation descendant of Clemente Delavoye, giving to you Martin Edgar, fourth generation descendant of Clemente Delavoye, what is rightfully yours because I declare it so.
I only have one thing to ask. I made a crazy promise to my niece that when she reached eighteen years of age, and if she was so inclined, I would help her get started in the adult world. I am doubtful she will take the offer seriously and I’ve never encouraged her to do so after re-thinking the idea. If, god forbid, she does show up one of these days, just look after her until she realizes there is nothing for her here. It shouldn’t take long. If she is anything like her mother and sister, Breaux Bridge will be the last place she’ll light. As for the rest of my estate I’ve tied things up the best I can with Ol’ Bub. He’s a crazy ol’ coot with his conspiracy theories and stupid playacting but he agreed to do it and tie it up so Juliette couldn’t try again to get her hands on things. I heard through the grapevine her son was killed in action and her daughter only cares about the other side of that family so I doubt anything comes of that, but I fixed it just in case. She sealed her fate when she told Donnie off and refused his olive branch.
Good bye. God grant you the peace with your family I never found with mine.
Your brother, Henley
The only sound was the radio playing in the background until Em reached across the table and took the hand that was trying not to crumple up Uncle Henley’s letter to his “brother.”
“Cher?”
“No. I don’t think Martin knows a thing about what I’m going to show you. I think he is a nice man, a little troubled maybe, but still nice and trying to out live his family’s treatment of him.”
“But you’re still angry at him.”
“Not really. I was a little at first as I kept running into all this booby traps life left me. Life sucks. Sometimes that feels like it is the only constant in the universe. And I’m not mad at Uncle Henley either. I put my uncle up on a pedestal he didn’t belong on. Not because he wasn’t just as decent as Martin, but because I was reading into his careless acts of kindness more than I should have. That makes me feel stupid, it doesn’t mean that Uncle Henley was a bad person.”
Like he had heard me and was truly listening Em said, “Okay. I’ll accept that. Got some examples of that in my own family. Auntie and Xavier are two such as well, though … not quite like this.”
I let him try and build a bridge. I also tried to ignore that I was a lot more hurt than what I was letting on. The last Thibodaux. Didn’t have anyone else. No one else needed him. God forbid I should take his offer of help and guidance seriously. Those things that Uncle Henley had written … they hurt. But I’ve learned to live with bigger hurts and just like those other times, it was now time for me to move along.
“Uncle Henley was wrong. He didn’t understand me, didn’t make any real effort to understand me. I’ve been trying for a while to decide whether knowing that I am any less obligated to want to find his killers.”
Cautiously Em asked me, “Come to a decision about that?”
“No. Not really.”
“Ava …”
“There’s something else. And if I show you … we’ll have a connection that’s never going to go away.”
He frowned in serious thought and said, “I don’t have a problem with that. ‘Sides Cher, we already have one, we just haven’t decided how far we’re going to take it.”
And for some reason his words told me I didn’t have to worry, at least not about this part. I pulled up a false bottom to reveal a flat space that was the size to hide a letter, a map … or a couple of really old gold coins that barely had any markings left on them and a bunch of flat, gold blanks laid side to side like gator scales.
Em was silent for a moment, gave a silent whistle, reached for one then drew his hand back. I pushed the box to him and he shook his head. “Naw Cher. Cover that back up. I don’t want you thinking that …”
“I don’t. Whatever it is you are worried about … don’t. With anyone else I’d worry about it, not you.”
He looked surprisingly shocked. “You don’t?”
“Naw,” I said, teasing him a bit with his own word. “You’re a master electrician with more work than you can shake a stick out. You have your own truck. We’re living cheek by jowl but haven’t tried to get any bennies out of it. And you can cook and clean for yourself. You evem gave up a woman with boobs like the size of zeppelins. It must be ...” I couldn’t say it but my face must have.
He gave a slow and easy grin. “Sure is.” He caressed my hand then turned loose with a sig and sat back. “This is a mess.”
“Too big a mess?”
He shook his head and looked at me like he was willing me to understand. “Naw Cher, but it is still a mess. A mess you’re right to want to take care of ahead of anything else … of an important nature. But you’re wrong that you’re going to do this alone.”
Em just stared at me. Then stared at me some more. I was fighting a grin and because of that he said, “You’re telling me a tale.”
“Nope. I swear I’m not. Here’s the proof, such as it is,” I told him as I pushed another folder of research towards him.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said eyeing all the old scritch-scratch notes and copies of pages out of books like I was asking him to kiss a gator."
Then my eyes fell on Pa-pere’s treasure box and I lost my appetite for making fun of things. I pulled it towards me and used the secret piece to open the hidden lid I’d finally managed to get all of the rust and corrosion chipped away so had gotten into it. Inside were Indian head nickels, stone arrow points, three rosaries, an envelope that held a ribbon and a clump of hair so fair and fine it could only have belonged to a baby, the stones and feathers other bits I remember him showing me, several Walking Liberty silver half-dollars as well as Liberty Head silver dollars and assorted other odds and ends that meant nothing and everything to me. The tiny skull of an unborn gator. A quarter size turtle shell. A small, handmade field guide of pressed leaves and flowers that he’d used to teach me the names of things. A folding blade that was rusted closed that had the initials MF inscribed on the handle. There were a couple of other envelopes that I didn’t open yet; I knew what was in them, I just wasn’t ready to share. And then there were several folded pages that matched the ones from Uncle Henley’s journal … and for good reason because they were from Uncle Henley’s journal. The missing pages. I pulled them out.
“I guess I’ve told you about Uncle Henley’s journal.”
“Yeah Cher. Made you sad.”
“Sorta, but what I noticed right off, even before I was able to translate it, was that several pages from the end were missing, had been torn out. At the time it made me curious but nothing I could do about missing pages that he might have just used for scrap paper or for lighting a fire or for who knows what.” I then explained about Pa-pere’s treasure box and all the stuff surrounding it including Grandmere keeping it from me, Uncle Henley finding it, and so on and so forth. “Pa-pere meant for me to have this box. It used to be our secret … that I knew how to open the box when no one else in the family did, not even Granmere; or so I thought anyway. I didn’t know I was supposed to inherit it, that part was kept from me … maybe by all of them for some reason but I suspect at least my father caved if Granmere had latched onto it because it ‘reminded her too much of Pa-pere and she wasn’t ready to part with it.’ The one and only criticism I ever heard my mother utter about Granmere was that she was growing manipulative in her old age and it was a good thing that they and Uncle Henley lived so far away.” I shook my head to clear it and stay on topic. “When I found Pa-pere’s treasure box in the boxes that had been put aside for me by Auntie the special secret piece that was used to open it was encrusted and useless. I’m still not sure if Uncle Henley meant for it to be that way. What I am sure is that Uncle Henley didn’t plan on me getting the box like I used to think.”
“Now Cher …”
I opened up the pages and read them to him.
Martin if you’ve got this then they got me. You were right and my brother was right. I should have let this obsession go years ago. And I tried to. Especially after what Uncle Mason did … and what the man I call father had to do as a result. But it just sticks in my craw that they’ve gotten away with so much over the years, including all the pain you suffered, and now on top of it all they are destroying the swamp. This is our home, not theirs. They chose to leave, to become townies. I might have left but I came back. Was welcomed back. I belong. You belong. They don’t.
The only reason they use the swamp is to transport their poisons. If you don’t hear from me again, you know why. Now this next part shames me and I hope you can understand my reasons. Ma mere finally told me the story of the treasure. Took her death bed to do it, that mania I told you about where all things family had to be secret and could only be passed on to the eldest son. She only found out accidentally, listening in on an argument between father and Uncle Mason, and then took a lifetime beyond that for her to acknowledge that I was the one that finally deserved to know. Apparently my father told my brother … but my brother never told me. Or so said ma mere and looking back I’m not sure I would believe her except what I found after he died. After we moved to Florida she used to try and pit the three of us against each other … Donnie, me, and Juliette. Her way of trying to see who loved her more I suppose. Donnie never fell for it and I followed his lead but after he was gone, I didn’t have anyone but her to believe … at least for a while. Juliette fell for it every time and I think that is why things went as wrong as they did on that side.
I wished I had told you sooner, I truly do. But I thought if I did you’d have no reason to be my friend … my brother … my family. If not for you I’d be alone. As much as you credit me for saving you when we were kids, it was you who saved me … then … and now. I finally found my faith yet again … how many times does that make? But by then I’d waited too long. Forgive me if you can. I let ma mere influence me too much. Here is some of the pieces you’ve been missing for your book. It isn’t all of the pieces we need but perhaps you can use it to finish what I’ve started should you desire. I’m thinking you are too smart for that, but you still deserve to know.
We’ve done a lot of work on our family tree so you’ll recognize the first name on the list. Old Clemente, that rascally pirate. He died leaving everything to his eldest son, a Creole whose mother was Caribbean. However it happened, and even ma mere told the story more than one way, the brother decided to share at least some of the inheritance with his younger siblings, plus the three daughters of his legitimate sisters. But most of it he left where his father had buried it … a location near Bayou Chene. Over the years the family used Old Clemente’s treasure as a savings bank of sorts but only the patriarch of each branch knew the secret of it and the location where it rested. When each child married they received a few of the coins or other treasure buried with them, but were told to keep it secret and only liquidate it in extreme emergencies otherwise something terrible would befall the family … a gris gris was on the treasure and it was more bad luck than good. At their death, if they had not used the treasure, they were to bequeath it to their eldest son. So on and so forth. And only children born legitimate received a portion. I think that part came from Old Clemente himself as a way to atone. The story goes he wasn’t afraid of death so much as the judgement the priests say comes after it. His eldest son was a priest and he made his choices as a way to prevent Old Clemente from contaminating the future generations … that unto the third and fourth generations curse too often mentioned in our families … and proven to be true.
Old Clemente was long-lived as was many in the next two generations. Two or three generations doesn’t seem long until you realize the legitimate members of our family often lived to be near a hundred years and the men often married late and had children even later. This happened a lot longer ago than either one of us thought. My research files should be nearby this box. Look at the tree. There’s still things that don’t make sense but it is the best I can do when so many records have been destroyed or lost.
As I was told it was the Great Flood of 1927 that turned the tide and changed the course set by Father Delavoye, the eldest son of Old Clemente. It destroyed the treasure’s hiding place and the family was devastated with not a few members lost when the community was nearly washed away. The three patriarchs of that time survived … Thibodaux, Frechette, and Levert. Those three men found what was left of the treasure and divided it up amongst their families. Levert with the most legitimate children got the greatest amount. Then came Frechette. Lastly Thibodaux as the fewest in number. Thus was born the family legend. The Leverts used their portion to move out of Bayou Chene and even deeper into the swamp. Ma mere’s family skipped her because of her first husband being such a wastrel though her family were just as bad in their own way. And you’ve explained what you’ve found over the years.
From that point in the family saga, all of us have spent time looking for the rest of the treasure when we were boys. Some of us never outgrew it. I think Aunt Sylvee may have found some of it … a few pieces at least … an that’s how she could afford to live on her own for most of her life. Ma mere seemed to think so. You know what else she thought. With what I’ve found it’s possible they had an affair but that was years before Aunt Sylvee married and even before ma mere’s marriage … the first or the second. I remember hearing the argument once. He didn’t deny it but he told her to stop worrying what came before, that none of that mattered because he’d come to fetch her, it was ma mere he chose to spend his life with, to set things right the way they should have been if they hadn’t listened to the rest of the family when they were so young.
Do I believe what she told me? I’m honestly not sure though facts do fit. The problem is that the mania only worsened after my father died. And, in the last year of her life ma mere’s wandering mind showed her mania and illness crossed boundaries that shouldn’t have been crossed. One way was she thought that somehow Ava was Sylvee’s grandchild rather than hers, that Uncle Moss had switched babies during the kidnapping and that Ava was a Rougarou changeling. She would get hysterical if any talk of leaving the home place came up. Those few things alone made it impossible to bring my niece here even if I had followed through on what you Dub said I should do.
I think part of why she kept her secrets as long as she did was that ma mere suspected that my father was going to break tradition, give treasure to a girl child instead of a male heir. I don’t hold it against my niece, it does make me question what she knows or remembers. I tried a few times to ask and her blank reaction makes me think she knows little of our family and nothing of the legend. However, in hindsight, I’m not too worried that is going to be a problem. Donnie was strict that what he called “that nonsense” was never fed to his kids. He all but dared me to even play pirates or similar with my nephew. I was as shocked as you can imagine when I found those coins that I showed you when Donnie died. He probably got them when he married. Got them and then hid them away, even from himself, despite the fact we could have used them to grow the business the way we should have. Or maybe our father gave them to him after what Uncle Mason did. It was about that time that Donnie got so damn rabid on the subject. I’m not sure, and not sure it matters anymore except I intend on asking when I get passed the Pearly Gates.
Maybe if I had shown you and told you these things sooner, we could have worked things out together. You would have finished your novel and I could have finally stopped being driven to look, perhaps could have finally settled down.
What I’ve never shown you or even told you is what I found when I opened my father’s aptly named treasure box. You’ll never believe me without seeing it for yourself and I have no one else to leave them to so I want you to have mine and the contents of this box. You take it all and get you and your family out. Or buy Remy and Danny off so they won’t keep trying to pull you in. Maybe I made a mistake coming back but there was no one else that needed me. And if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have found a brother to replace the one I lost. So though our surnames are different, this is me, Henley Thibodaux, the last Thibodaux, third generation descendant of Clemente Delavoye, giving to you Martin Edgar, fourth generation descendant of Clemente Delavoye, what is rightfully yours because I declare it so.
I only have one thing to ask. I made a crazy promise to my niece that when she reached eighteen years of age, and if she was so inclined, I would help her get started in the adult world. I am doubtful she will take the offer seriously and I’ve never encouraged her to do so after re-thinking the idea. If, god forbid, she does show up one of these days, just look after her until she realizes there is nothing for her here. It shouldn’t take long. If she is anything like her mother and sister, Breaux Bridge will be the last place she’ll light. As for the rest of my estate I’ve tied things up the best I can with Ol’ Bub. He’s a crazy ol’ coot with his conspiracy theories and stupid playacting but he agreed to do it and tie it up so Juliette couldn’t try again to get her hands on things. I heard through the grapevine her son was killed in action and her daughter only cares about the other side of that family so I doubt anything comes of that, but I fixed it just in case. She sealed her fate when she told Donnie off and refused his olive branch.
Good bye. God grant you the peace with your family I never found with mine.
Your brother, Henley
The only sound was the radio playing in the background until Em reached across the table and took the hand that was trying not to crumple up Uncle Henley’s letter to his “brother.”
“Cher?”
“No. I don’t think Martin knows a thing about what I’m going to show you. I think he is a nice man, a little troubled maybe, but still nice and trying to out live his family’s treatment of him.”
“But you’re still angry at him.”
“Not really. I was a little at first as I kept running into all this booby traps life left me. Life sucks. Sometimes that feels like it is the only constant in the universe. And I’m not mad at Uncle Henley either. I put my uncle up on a pedestal he didn’t belong on. Not because he wasn’t just as decent as Martin, but because I was reading into his careless acts of kindness more than I should have. That makes me feel stupid, it doesn’t mean that Uncle Henley was a bad person.”
Like he had heard me and was truly listening Em said, “Okay. I’ll accept that. Got some examples of that in my own family. Auntie and Xavier are two such as well, though … not quite like this.”
I let him try and build a bridge. I also tried to ignore that I was a lot more hurt than what I was letting on. The last Thibodaux. Didn’t have anyone else. No one else needed him. God forbid I should take his offer of help and guidance seriously. Those things that Uncle Henley had written … they hurt. But I’ve learned to live with bigger hurts and just like those other times, it was now time for me to move along.
“Uncle Henley was wrong. He didn’t understand me, didn’t make any real effort to understand me. I’ve been trying for a while to decide whether knowing that I am any less obligated to want to find his killers.”
Cautiously Em asked me, “Come to a decision about that?”
“No. Not really.”
“Ava …”
“There’s something else. And if I show you … we’ll have a connection that’s never going to go away.”
He frowned in serious thought and said, “I don’t have a problem with that. ‘Sides Cher, we already have one, we just haven’t decided how far we’re going to take it.”
And for some reason his words told me I didn’t have to worry, at least not about this part. I pulled up a false bottom to reveal a flat space that was the size to hide a letter, a map … or a couple of really old gold coins that barely had any markings left on them and a bunch of flat, gold blanks laid side to side like gator scales.
Em was silent for a moment, gave a silent whistle, reached for one then drew his hand back. I pushed the box to him and he shook his head. “Naw Cher. Cover that back up. I don’t want you thinking that …”
“I don’t. Whatever it is you are worried about … don’t. With anyone else I’d worry about it, not you.”
He looked surprisingly shocked. “You don’t?”
“Naw,” I said, teasing him a bit with his own word. “You’re a master electrician with more work than you can shake a stick out. You have your own truck. We’re living cheek by jowl but haven’t tried to get any bennies out of it. And you can cook and clean for yourself. You evem gave up a woman with boobs like the size of zeppelins. It must be ...” I couldn’t say it but my face must have.
He gave a slow and easy grin. “Sure is.” He caressed my hand then turned loose with a sig and sat back. “This is a mess.”
“Too big a mess?”
He shook his head and looked at me like he was willing me to understand. “Naw Cher, but it is still a mess. A mess you’re right to want to take care of ahead of anything else … of an important nature. But you’re wrong that you’re going to do this alone.”
Jeepcats27
Senior Member
Wow what a family betrayal! Family like hers, who needed enemies!
Thanks for the new chapter.
Thanks for the new chapter.
Texican
Live Free & Die Free.... God Freedom Country....
“Too big a mess?”
He shook his head and looked at me like he was willing me to understand. “Naw Cher, but it is still a mess. A mess you’re right to want to take care of ahead of anything else … of an important nature. But you’re wrong that you’re going to do this alone.”
Em made the correct statement for AVA. Good for him.
Thanks Kathy.
Texican....
He shook his head and looked at me like he was willing me to understand. “Naw Cher, but it is still a mess. A mess you’re right to want to take care of ahead of anything else … of an important nature. But you’re wrong that you’re going to do this alone.”
Em made the correct statement for AVA. Good for him.
Thanks Kathy.
Texican....
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you so much.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
I've had good luck w/ MS Visio
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Thank you Kathy.
Good stuff.
Just got caught up.
I've been re-reading your older work...more good stuff.
www.fictionpress.com
Just got caught up.
I've been re-reading your older work...more good stuff.
MotherHeninFlorida | FictionPress
MotherHeninFlorida is an author that has written 23 stories for Action, Sci-Fi, and General.
www.fictionpress.com
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Some of the web locations I've found Kathy's works OR links to it
Mother Hen's Story Time Blogg
motherhensstorytime.blogspot.com
Author Kathy in FL - Ladymist95 Preparations
ladymist95.blogspot.com › 2011/09 › author-kathy-in-f
Kathy's (aka: Mother Hen) stories | Post Apocalyptic Fiction ...
pawfiction.proboards.com › thread › kathys-aka-mothe...
A Kinder, Gentler Side of Prepper Fiction - Mom with a PREP
momwithaprep.com › a-kinder-gentler-side-of-prepper-...
Why Kathy in Fl Rocks... - Zombie Squad - ZombieHunters.org
www.zombiehunters.org › ... › Eats and Drinks
Your top 3 Prepper / SHTF / WORL / Survival / Dystopian ...
www.survivalistboards.com › showthread
This one doesn't link. ??
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Might have lost link when I CPed the list (don't you just LOVE technology?)
If you highlight & right click, search for it, it should connect
BE ADVISED -- that site is an Amazon affiliate so will probably only link out to an Amazon But it HERE site -- hey! everyone needs to earn somehow!
G