Story Ava (Complete)
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
I was wondering about that and what happened to the stash in the rental unit. Wasn't there a bunch of long term food and other stuff. .. thanks Kathy for all the chapters
Chapter 98
Next morning Em found me outside staring at the Old House with my tablet in my hands and the proposal work up on the screen.
He handed me a cup of coffee … I’d left a thermos and a note letting him know I hadn’t run off, I was just working.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Other way around,” I told him with a snort. “If being in the military taught me nothing else, I can now make coffee that is drinkable.”
He chuckled but said, “Not what I meant. Just … thanks. For the note. This one … and the other one.”
Fearing that I knew what our next conversation was going to be about I was relieved when he pointed to the Isabella with his coffee cup and asked, “What do you think?”
“I think it depends on what Evelyn wants. The Isabella has healthy bones. It could be rehabbed and renovated. Wouldn’t be hard to leave it looking like a period piece while at the same time doing a total upgrade and making it more energy efficient, modern, and secure which flows with all the new regs coming down from the Secretary of Recovery’s office. It wouldn’t be cheap, but it could be done. For about the same amount of money the building could be dismantled and rebuilt someplace else, but without the upgrades which might have to be done in a year or two anyway if she wants a Certificate of Occupancy renewal. If she thinks there’s going to be a market for a BnB around here she’d make more off the building staying in place and doing the renovation. She could buy the lots on either side and turn it into a ‘resort’ of sorts or even add some cabins that face the river and expand what she’s doing. It’s money but there might be a long term pay off. Hard to say. I don’t know what the local government, if there is still one in existence, plans for the town. Third option is simply to dismantle it down to the foundation and sell it on the reclamation market. Demolition will cost but with the right crew she’ll make it up in re-sale and also won’t have the fees the State will charge if they have to come in and clean it up.”
He was listening and then nodded. “She picked the right person. You’ve got her back. I’ve seen too many companies that only look at their own bottom line and simply want to demolish than see other possibilities.”
“They were talking about razing New Orleans to the ground and rebuilding it new and modern until some of us stepped in. Some of the old neighborhoods had to be taken down and the ground scraped clean but most of the tourist areas and churches we are managing to save. Of course there’s a lot of new green spaces and set backs from the dikes but at least the city planners are using some commonsense. That crap they are doing in NYC, San Fran, and Chicago just don’t work around here.”
He took a sip of coffee before asking, “And the Old House?”
“Total loss,” I answered, looking away.
“Figured but it needed to be confirmed.”
I asked, “You know what Orélie was expecting?”
“She shouldn’t be expecting anything. She sold out to Evelyn a year before the war ended.”
I had to reorient my thinking. “Evelyn didn’t say anything.”
“Probably ‘cause she knew the shape the building was headed from last time she was out here. Mostly she was just making sure that the pest control was being handled and to remove a few family heirlooms from here and her old man’s other property. She knows the score. She did it mostly because Orélie and Julius wouldn’t take the help any other way.”
“Are they both … ?” The question escaped me before I could stop it.
He bumped my shoulder to let me know it was okay. “Housing ain’t cheap. Nothing is and you’re probably the last person I need to explain why to. Inflation is eating everyone’s savings up. Hubert and a cousin went in together and won the deed to an entire block of houses in Panama City. They were careful who they invited in and now they’ve got a good thing going. Their neighbors are happy too which they weren’t too sure about in the beginning and it caused some issues. Orélie, Julius, and Momma L share one of the houses and everyone else looks after them as much as they’ll allow. Outside of their compound other people are doing the same thing; working together with like minded people and there is always a house or two of people that participate but need a little more help to remain out of the housing assistance communities that have sprung up.”
I nodded my understanding. “New version of the old Poor Houses. Some of those places are good, some not. Depends on the community their in and how it gets administered.” I swallowed around my dry mouth and then asked, “The kids?”
“Fabrice primarily lives with Thib, Vadie and their kids including Dot, but he’s in an apprenticeship learning electronics under a son of Hubert’s cousin. When he isn’t in school, he’s in transit a lot of the time between Thib’s house and whatever job he’s training at. A few others from around here moved in or near Panama City as well. Some talk of coming back one of these days but Thib isn’t one of them. Ava …”
“Yeah?”
“Serafine, Franc, and Fontaine have never shown up on the Survivor Lists.”
I shrugged, not inclined to discuss it. “Ask Dagobert and Dante.”
“Can’t. They, and Phillipe, are dead. Phillipe of a bioterror event in Savannah where he’d gone with his adoptive family so he could maintain his lifestyle. Dagobert and Dante in a raid on a warehouse where contraband was being stored.”
“I don’t know about the Demon Spawn and quite frankly don’t give a crap so don’t ask me to be a member of a search party.”
He raised his eyebrows at my harsh but didn’t go down that path. What he did say still irritated me. “Which means you do know about Serafine.”
I shrugged. “It won’t bring them any peace Em. Just let it go.”
“Might be I will, but let me be the one to decide. Could be Thib needs the info. The State has made some noise about taking Frabrice.”
“Why?”
“’Cause the State thinks they know better than anyone else. And because Serafine left a paper … supposedly … that gave her mother custody should something happen to her.”
“Let me guess, there’s money involved.”
He snorted, took a sip of coffee, the answered, “Yep. Phillipe isn’t the only one that died in that terror attack. The assets from his adoptive family have been put in a Survivor Trust until he turns 25 but he can start collecting interest on it once he turns sixteen. Assuming his guardians approve and don’t ask for a cut.”
“Aw hell,” I growled. “Serafine is dead. She and …” I looked at him. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Of course I don’t. But the truth needs to come out so the mistakes of the past don’t get repeated.”
I agreed so I told him what happened that night. At his troubled look I said, “The kids were under several layers of sail canvas and I guess didn’t really hear much beyond enough to be scared. Wylene wasn’t making good sense and … I don’t recall her ever saying Serafine or Mona’s names or really much else until she got into the fight with Daniel Edgar and even then they weren’t into doing much else but beating the crap out of each other.”
After a moment Em said, “I’ll send the information to Father Damboue. He runs the parish in Panama City. I’ll keep your name out of it if I can.”
“No.”
“Cher … it needs to come out. If nothing else to give Fabrice the understanding that his mother … that she came through for him in the end.”
“Naw she didn’t. She might have had a few instincts unwillingly come to the surface at that late date but she never should have been with that psycho and she must have been with them a while … him and Wylene … and was probably part of the reason why Orélie and Momma L took a hard dislike of me there at the end.”
“She’s dead. Don’t hold a grudge, it isn’t healthy.”
I snorted. “I’m not. I told you it is all old news to me that I dealt with a long time ago. I did what I did but they mostly did for each other. I meant that I’ll get ahold of Father Damboue. I’ll take it to confession. It will be up to him what he tells Hubert and the others, but he’ll be bound to keep my name out of it otherwise. If that doesn’t work I’ve got a few people I can call. Serafine’s mother can then either decide to have all the crap things she’s done in her life laid open like a book … or she can back the frick off. It’ll be up to her.”
I glanced over and didn’t care for the look on Em’s face. Screw it. I went back to doing what I’d come to Breaux Bridge to do.
“Dammit Ava, stop! You can at least explain to me what I did wrong.”
I shrugged. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Like hell. Everything was fine and then … bam … you close off and walk away.”
I turned and looked at him. “You know that thing you talked about? How every female kept trying to change you and make it your fault? Well I ain’t them. You didn’t do anything wrong Em. It isn’t your fault that … that I am what I am. One of those things I am is damn good at getting things done … and dealing with people that … aren’t behaving constructive. And one of the reasons I am so good is because I don’t treat the guilty with kid gloves.”
He stopped for a moment, seemed to be analyzing what I said, the nodded. “Fine. But think on this. I’m not saying you did anything wrong either. And I don’t have a problem with you likely having to follow through on getting Serafine’s mother out of the picture your way. I’m angry that you’re being put into the position to do it when they should have found some way to do it themselves.”
I blinked. But my relief was short-lived.
“And now that we got that out of the way, we’re gonna talk about that other letter.”
I looked at the Old House and he knew what I was thinking.
“I was beyond pissed. I swore up and down I’d hold onto your things until we found each other again.” Then he grimaced. “But … you were right. We did need the food and … and I needed … I still have some of the old pieces of jewelry but …”
“If you used it, that’s what I left it to you for. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to come out of the swamp. I didn’t want all that to just sit there when it could finally do some good instead of hanging over someone’s head like the Sword of Damocles.”
“Mind if we seat down?”
We headed back to the Isabella. I was hungry anyway. There were days I lived on coffee but with the previous day’s headache I didn’t dare court disaster. I pulled out a couple of self-heats and held them up for Em to pick one.
He said, “Those things are loaded with sodium.”
I shrugged. “I don’t eat them more than I can help but since I don’t see a produce stand around here, they’re going to have to do.”
As we ate he explained, “No one could get back in here at first. And I was laid up and then in recovery mode then in rehab. That year was a mess. And like I said, I probably survived mostly because I was so pissed to have finally started walking again except … aw hell, why dress it up. My pride was in a knot and then to find out from Zeb that he wouldn’t be able to track you any more … I was just pissed. Pissed and scared.”
“I suppose I should have tried to get word to you that Daniel Edgar was no long a threat.”
“Not scared of that idiot. Government discovered his part in the incursion. They finally found his burnt and decomposed body on what was left of a boat in the swamp about three months after the evacuation.”
“I left Daniel on Yula Mae’s dock and trust me, he didn’t climb back into the boat.”
“It made all the papers. They figure his men or those he was dealing with killed him and disposed of him and then set the fire to get rid of the evidence.”
“I left him for the gators to dispose of, the fire I don’t know much about.”
“You sure he was dead?”
I looked at Em and gave a graphic description of what my rifle had done to him.
“Yeah. That’s dead all right,” he replied.
Next morning Em found me outside staring at the Old House with my tablet in my hands and the proposal work up on the screen.
He handed me a cup of coffee … I’d left a thermos and a note letting him know I hadn’t run off, I was just working.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Other way around,” I told him with a snort. “If being in the military taught me nothing else, I can now make coffee that is drinkable.”
He chuckled but said, “Not what I meant. Just … thanks. For the note. This one … and the other one.”
Fearing that I knew what our next conversation was going to be about I was relieved when he pointed to the Isabella with his coffee cup and asked, “What do you think?”
“I think it depends on what Evelyn wants. The Isabella has healthy bones. It could be rehabbed and renovated. Wouldn’t be hard to leave it looking like a period piece while at the same time doing a total upgrade and making it more energy efficient, modern, and secure which flows with all the new regs coming down from the Secretary of Recovery’s office. It wouldn’t be cheap, but it could be done. For about the same amount of money the building could be dismantled and rebuilt someplace else, but without the upgrades which might have to be done in a year or two anyway if she wants a Certificate of Occupancy renewal. If she thinks there’s going to be a market for a BnB around here she’d make more off the building staying in place and doing the renovation. She could buy the lots on either side and turn it into a ‘resort’ of sorts or even add some cabins that face the river and expand what she’s doing. It’s money but there might be a long term pay off. Hard to say. I don’t know what the local government, if there is still one in existence, plans for the town. Third option is simply to dismantle it down to the foundation and sell it on the reclamation market. Demolition will cost but with the right crew she’ll make it up in re-sale and also won’t have the fees the State will charge if they have to come in and clean it up.”
He was listening and then nodded. “She picked the right person. You’ve got her back. I’ve seen too many companies that only look at their own bottom line and simply want to demolish than see other possibilities.”
“They were talking about razing New Orleans to the ground and rebuilding it new and modern until some of us stepped in. Some of the old neighborhoods had to be taken down and the ground scraped clean but most of the tourist areas and churches we are managing to save. Of course there’s a lot of new green spaces and set backs from the dikes but at least the city planners are using some commonsense. That crap they are doing in NYC, San Fran, and Chicago just don’t work around here.”
He took a sip of coffee before asking, “And the Old House?”
“Total loss,” I answered, looking away.
“Figured but it needed to be confirmed.”
I asked, “You know what Orélie was expecting?”
“She shouldn’t be expecting anything. She sold out to Evelyn a year before the war ended.”
I had to reorient my thinking. “Evelyn didn’t say anything.”
“Probably ‘cause she knew the shape the building was headed from last time she was out here. Mostly she was just making sure that the pest control was being handled and to remove a few family heirlooms from here and her old man’s other property. She knows the score. She did it mostly because Orélie and Julius wouldn’t take the help any other way.”
“Are they both … ?” The question escaped me before I could stop it.
He bumped my shoulder to let me know it was okay. “Housing ain’t cheap. Nothing is and you’re probably the last person I need to explain why to. Inflation is eating everyone’s savings up. Hubert and a cousin went in together and won the deed to an entire block of houses in Panama City. They were careful who they invited in and now they’ve got a good thing going. Their neighbors are happy too which they weren’t too sure about in the beginning and it caused some issues. Orélie, Julius, and Momma L share one of the houses and everyone else looks after them as much as they’ll allow. Outside of their compound other people are doing the same thing; working together with like minded people and there is always a house or two of people that participate but need a little more help to remain out of the housing assistance communities that have sprung up.”
I nodded my understanding. “New version of the old Poor Houses. Some of those places are good, some not. Depends on the community their in and how it gets administered.” I swallowed around my dry mouth and then asked, “The kids?”
“Fabrice primarily lives with Thib, Vadie and their kids including Dot, but he’s in an apprenticeship learning electronics under a son of Hubert’s cousin. When he isn’t in school, he’s in transit a lot of the time between Thib’s house and whatever job he’s training at. A few others from around here moved in or near Panama City as well. Some talk of coming back one of these days but Thib isn’t one of them. Ava …”
“Yeah?”
“Serafine, Franc, and Fontaine have never shown up on the Survivor Lists.”
I shrugged, not inclined to discuss it. “Ask Dagobert and Dante.”
“Can’t. They, and Phillipe, are dead. Phillipe of a bioterror event in Savannah where he’d gone with his adoptive family so he could maintain his lifestyle. Dagobert and Dante in a raid on a warehouse where contraband was being stored.”
“I don’t know about the Demon Spawn and quite frankly don’t give a crap so don’t ask me to be a member of a search party.”
He raised his eyebrows at my harsh but didn’t go down that path. What he did say still irritated me. “Which means you do know about Serafine.”
I shrugged. “It won’t bring them any peace Em. Just let it go.”
“Might be I will, but let me be the one to decide. Could be Thib needs the info. The State has made some noise about taking Frabrice.”
“Why?”
“’Cause the State thinks they know better than anyone else. And because Serafine left a paper … supposedly … that gave her mother custody should something happen to her.”
“Let me guess, there’s money involved.”
He snorted, took a sip of coffee, the answered, “Yep. Phillipe isn’t the only one that died in that terror attack. The assets from his adoptive family have been put in a Survivor Trust until he turns 25 but he can start collecting interest on it once he turns sixteen. Assuming his guardians approve and don’t ask for a cut.”
“Aw hell,” I growled. “Serafine is dead. She and …” I looked at him. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Of course I don’t. But the truth needs to come out so the mistakes of the past don’t get repeated.”
I agreed so I told him what happened that night. At his troubled look I said, “The kids were under several layers of sail canvas and I guess didn’t really hear much beyond enough to be scared. Wylene wasn’t making good sense and … I don’t recall her ever saying Serafine or Mona’s names or really much else until she got into the fight with Daniel Edgar and even then they weren’t into doing much else but beating the crap out of each other.”
After a moment Em said, “I’ll send the information to Father Damboue. He runs the parish in Panama City. I’ll keep your name out of it if I can.”
“No.”
“Cher … it needs to come out. If nothing else to give Fabrice the understanding that his mother … that she came through for him in the end.”
“Naw she didn’t. She might have had a few instincts unwillingly come to the surface at that late date but she never should have been with that psycho and she must have been with them a while … him and Wylene … and was probably part of the reason why Orélie and Momma L took a hard dislike of me there at the end.”
“She’s dead. Don’t hold a grudge, it isn’t healthy.”
I snorted. “I’m not. I told you it is all old news to me that I dealt with a long time ago. I did what I did but they mostly did for each other. I meant that I’ll get ahold of Father Damboue. I’ll take it to confession. It will be up to him what he tells Hubert and the others, but he’ll be bound to keep my name out of it otherwise. If that doesn’t work I’ve got a few people I can call. Serafine’s mother can then either decide to have all the crap things she’s done in her life laid open like a book … or she can back the frick off. It’ll be up to her.”
I glanced over and didn’t care for the look on Em’s face. Screw it. I went back to doing what I’d come to Breaux Bridge to do.
“Dammit Ava, stop! You can at least explain to me what I did wrong.”
I shrugged. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Like hell. Everything was fine and then … bam … you close off and walk away.”
I turned and looked at him. “You know that thing you talked about? How every female kept trying to change you and make it your fault? Well I ain’t them. You didn’t do anything wrong Em. It isn’t your fault that … that I am what I am. One of those things I am is damn good at getting things done … and dealing with people that … aren’t behaving constructive. And one of the reasons I am so good is because I don’t treat the guilty with kid gloves.”
He stopped for a moment, seemed to be analyzing what I said, the nodded. “Fine. But think on this. I’m not saying you did anything wrong either. And I don’t have a problem with you likely having to follow through on getting Serafine’s mother out of the picture your way. I’m angry that you’re being put into the position to do it when they should have found some way to do it themselves.”
I blinked. But my relief was short-lived.
“And now that we got that out of the way, we’re gonna talk about that other letter.”
I looked at the Old House and he knew what I was thinking.
“I was beyond pissed. I swore up and down I’d hold onto your things until we found each other again.” Then he grimaced. “But … you were right. We did need the food and … and I needed … I still have some of the old pieces of jewelry but …”
“If you used it, that’s what I left it to you for. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to come out of the swamp. I didn’t want all that to just sit there when it could finally do some good instead of hanging over someone’s head like the Sword of Damocles.”
“Mind if we seat down?”
We headed back to the Isabella. I was hungry anyway. There were days I lived on coffee but with the previous day’s headache I didn’t dare court disaster. I pulled out a couple of self-heats and held them up for Em to pick one.
He said, “Those things are loaded with sodium.”
I shrugged. “I don’t eat them more than I can help but since I don’t see a produce stand around here, they’re going to have to do.”
As we ate he explained, “No one could get back in here at first. And I was laid up and then in recovery mode then in rehab. That year was a mess. And like I said, I probably survived mostly because I was so pissed to have finally started walking again except … aw hell, why dress it up. My pride was in a knot and then to find out from Zeb that he wouldn’t be able to track you any more … I was just pissed. Pissed and scared.”
“I suppose I should have tried to get word to you that Daniel Edgar was no long a threat.”
“Not scared of that idiot. Government discovered his part in the incursion. They finally found his burnt and decomposed body on what was left of a boat in the swamp about three months after the evacuation.”
“I left Daniel on Yula Mae’s dock and trust me, he didn’t climb back into the boat.”
“It made all the papers. They figure his men or those he was dealing with killed him and disposed of him and then set the fire to get rid of the evidence.”
“I left him for the gators to dispose of, the fire I don’t know much about.”
“You sure he was dead?”
I looked at Em and gave a graphic description of what my rifle had done to him.
“Yeah. That’s dead all right,” he replied.
Chapter 99
I was going to bike around town just to get a better idea of things and Em said, “Why bike?”
“’Cause I ain’t wasting fuel.”
“Wellll, it just so happens I have a solar buggy and the rain is over and it’s a fine day. Would the pretty lady like a ride?”
I looked at him like he was nuts. He sighed. “Just play along and humor me Ava. If this is all the time I get with you …”
“Stop saying stuff like that.”
He blinked. “Er …”
“Em, I don’t know how much I can give … but it’s … nice … to be able to live with something other than a potential nightmare. I’ve got enough ready-made ones, for once I can knock stuff off the bad dream list.”
He gave me a small grin. “I can work with that.”
“I’m serious about not knowing …” I shook my head. “Em what I might can do with you right here, right now might not be the same thing I can handle when I have to go back to my right now real world. I can’t just run away from the responsibilities I’ve built for myself, from my crews, from my mission … and there’s other things.”
“Zeb said you still get called up.”
I was angry, but not at Em. “Dammit. He can’t talk about that stuff.”
Em snorted. “I told him the same thing. I know why he told me, but I told him it would have been better for you to have been the one to tell me should you be so inclined.”
“It’s not you knowing or not ‘cause I know … look, you may not want that for me but I also trust you’d understand. But Zeb … the boy needs to keep his mouth shut. He was always transparent, I’d thought working for that Colonel had cleared that problem up, but …”
“Boy huh?”
I snorted my contempt at his attempt at dealing with my anger.
The he sighed. “He won’t talk about it to other people Cher. In fact he said he’d deny it if I ever said anything about it again. He sure as hell ain’t out there sharing your business.”
“I hope not. These people don’t screw around. The ones that I answer to on occasion or the people they want me to take care of. And the ones I answer to could get angry enough to keep him off that limb replacement list … permanently off no matter how great a candidate he might be.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“No I’ll tell him. And I’ll tell him, for his own good, if he can’t keep his mouth shut I won’t be picking up the phone again. I ain’t playing about the potential danger. And speaking of …”
“Don’t Ava. Don’t shut us out. Don’t build walls. They was damn tiring to climb over last night. I understand and I’ll get the others to understand as necessary. I’ve had my own dealings with them sorts of people.”
I calmed down enough to think. “The back surgery.”
“That too. But … I told you I did a belated bit of running away. When they found out my clearance level I got some job offers I couldn’t refuse. They were all state-side but they were still … potentially messy.”
“Was that why you traveled so much? Zeb mentioned it.”
“That and so I wouldn’t have to make excuses to Xavier for why I wouldn’t work with him … or lie to him about where the money came from that I would send once or twice a year. And so he couldn’t compare notes with Thib who I also sent money for Aunt Orelie’s upkeep.”
Em looked away and I said, “Good.”
“But I took … I mean … aw hell.”
“Knock it off Em. I wasn’t hurting if that’s what you’re worrying about. I never really spent any of my military pay, no real opportunity most of the time and when there was opportunity during RnR no inclination to spend it on what was available. When I turned twenty-one I was on RnR and decided to see if there was anything left of the Trust and to see if anyone had ever made a claim against it. No one had so I had them transfer the money into my payroll account and it sat there the same as my pay did. ‘Sides I had all those coins from Yula Mae’s mausoleum. I’ve got a few left but most of them got liquidated … and I’m not discussing how … and that’s what I used to buy some of the specialty equipment and pay the first bit of payroll until the jobs started paying off. Everything is self sufficient right now but I’ve got cash reserves just in case. So knock off the guilt tripping … it’s a waste of energy and time.”
“You sure about that?”
“I trusted you then and trust you now. I do wonder if any of the other … oh who cares. I had that stuff for less than a year. I lived without it before and I’ve lived without it sense.”
“I got your pictures and other stuff out. Managed to save most of what was in the storage room, and I’ll even crack a bottle of the wine you made now and again. It ain’t around here though. I got a spot up in Branson, MO in an old RV park that happens to be next door to a storage facility. Er … Food is about gone. Before Hubert got his commercial fishing back up and running the family was hurting. I gave them about half of it and I’ve been living off the other half off and on, depending on if I was working or not.”
“Good. I was worried that it had gone to waste.”
“But …”
“Em, you gotta get rid of that complex you got. I left all that stuff to you because I trusted you. You didn’t let me down. Then … or now.”
##### ##### #####
It was a good week for both of us. We fished, we hunted, we looked over what was left of the town. It made Em a little sad but not so bad that I had to put off doing my job. And I started thinking of possibilities. But all good things must come to an end. I had finally gotten up the nerve to go see Uncle Henley’s grave … and understanding I needed to deal with some things over in Florida as well. Dad would have a fit if he thought I was worshiping the family like an ancient Egyptian but … I at least needed to make sure there wasn’t some government agency waiting on somebody to claim the graves.
Em said, “I … I got a job that starts in two days. I can’t afford to …”
“If you’re worried I don’t understand … don’t. Higg told me this morning there’s nothing keeping me from going back. There’s a new story on the front page. Looks like Cali – or what’s left of it – thinks it can secede. Some of the folks out there don’t like the new sheriff in town and they don’t like that there’s being a lot of forced resettlement of Hispanics that crossed the border illegally during the war.”
“Then let ‘em.”
“Uh uh. The Pacific coastal border is still too important for security reasons. They’re going to turn the Expansion Lands – the temporary name of the Northern Mexico lands we now have to take care of according to the Peace Treaty – into work farms and government reclamation jobs for people that can’t prove their immigration or citizenship status but who aren’t complete buttheads and deserve a chance to work their way up. As of this morning you gotta ‘show your papers’ before you can buy groceries, drive a vehicle, travel, purchase fuel and other commodities, and other stuff. And businesses are responsible for only hiring people with the right kind of identification.”
“Holy hell. That’s as bad as it was during the war.”
“Yeah, thank the idiots that are trying to stir crap up and ask for reparations and other manure. I expect the mess to get worse before it gets better but I’m already working on getting some of my guys the right docs.” At his questioning look. “Immigrants that served honorably during the war on our side are automatically granted citizenship. Their families not so much; however, they can petition but there’s plenty of rules that they have to follow. Most of my guys in that boat are single, but I do have one that has a family. Problem is his two sons are crapheads and their marriage is common law and they can’t fix things because she’s still illegal and too lazy to get her docs cleaned up. They aren’t going to make the cut. He and his wife were already having problems, this isn’t going to make things any easier. I honestly don’t know if he’ll go with them down to the resettlement area or just what.”
When he looked at me I asked, “What?”
“This suits you.”
“Huh?”
He was quiet and didn’t answer me for a while. Then he surprised the heck out of me. “I need a month to finish this project then I’ll see if I can find anything in New Orleans. And if that ain’t clear enough, I’m asking you to wait for me.”
It took me a minute to process. Then I surprised him. “It’s going to take me about that long and a little more to figure out which of my foremen want their own crews and which will be happy remaining a partner. And to convince one of them to take over the New Orleans office instead of going into the field. I want to start a satellite office to send more crews north and west. I’d been considering it for a while but this moves the time table up.”
Startled but willing to play along for obvious reasons he asked, “Where you want to start it?”
“I’m thinking about Breaux Bridge. It’s only 2 hours from New Orleans. Depends on what I find out when I start talking to people. Shreveport might work just as well though … depending on what you think …”
“Breaux Bridge makes sense. You’ve got the river for transportation of supplies, and the interstate for easy access to other parts of the country. You going to rent the Isabella?”
“Nah. Want a clean slate with no memories attached to it. I’ve got some ideas running around in my head, even have some things in storage. Maybe … you got some ideas of your own. If you want to.”
Sex hadn’t even been part of our conversations. Sleep was beside each other but not with each other. There was still way too much to work through before we took that step, if we ever did. I still wasn’t sure that I could ever offer anyone anymore than a type of friendship. But right there, right then I had no qualms about seeing just how close I could get.
I was going to bike around town just to get a better idea of things and Em said, “Why bike?”
“’Cause I ain’t wasting fuel.”
“Wellll, it just so happens I have a solar buggy and the rain is over and it’s a fine day. Would the pretty lady like a ride?”
I looked at him like he was nuts. He sighed. “Just play along and humor me Ava. If this is all the time I get with you …”
“Stop saying stuff like that.”
He blinked. “Er …”
“Em, I don’t know how much I can give … but it’s … nice … to be able to live with something other than a potential nightmare. I’ve got enough ready-made ones, for once I can knock stuff off the bad dream list.”
He gave me a small grin. “I can work with that.”
“I’m serious about not knowing …” I shook my head. “Em what I might can do with you right here, right now might not be the same thing I can handle when I have to go back to my right now real world. I can’t just run away from the responsibilities I’ve built for myself, from my crews, from my mission … and there’s other things.”
“Zeb said you still get called up.”
I was angry, but not at Em. “Dammit. He can’t talk about that stuff.”
Em snorted. “I told him the same thing. I know why he told me, but I told him it would have been better for you to have been the one to tell me should you be so inclined.”
“It’s not you knowing or not ‘cause I know … look, you may not want that for me but I also trust you’d understand. But Zeb … the boy needs to keep his mouth shut. He was always transparent, I’d thought working for that Colonel had cleared that problem up, but …”
“Boy huh?”
I snorted my contempt at his attempt at dealing with my anger.
The he sighed. “He won’t talk about it to other people Cher. In fact he said he’d deny it if I ever said anything about it again. He sure as hell ain’t out there sharing your business.”
“I hope not. These people don’t screw around. The ones that I answer to on occasion or the people they want me to take care of. And the ones I answer to could get angry enough to keep him off that limb replacement list … permanently off no matter how great a candidate he might be.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“No I’ll tell him. And I’ll tell him, for his own good, if he can’t keep his mouth shut I won’t be picking up the phone again. I ain’t playing about the potential danger. And speaking of …”
“Don’t Ava. Don’t shut us out. Don’t build walls. They was damn tiring to climb over last night. I understand and I’ll get the others to understand as necessary. I’ve had my own dealings with them sorts of people.”
I calmed down enough to think. “The back surgery.”
“That too. But … I told you I did a belated bit of running away. When they found out my clearance level I got some job offers I couldn’t refuse. They were all state-side but they were still … potentially messy.”
“Was that why you traveled so much? Zeb mentioned it.”
“That and so I wouldn’t have to make excuses to Xavier for why I wouldn’t work with him … or lie to him about where the money came from that I would send once or twice a year. And so he couldn’t compare notes with Thib who I also sent money for Aunt Orelie’s upkeep.”
Em looked away and I said, “Good.”
“But I took … I mean … aw hell.”
“Knock it off Em. I wasn’t hurting if that’s what you’re worrying about. I never really spent any of my military pay, no real opportunity most of the time and when there was opportunity during RnR no inclination to spend it on what was available. When I turned twenty-one I was on RnR and decided to see if there was anything left of the Trust and to see if anyone had ever made a claim against it. No one had so I had them transfer the money into my payroll account and it sat there the same as my pay did. ‘Sides I had all those coins from Yula Mae’s mausoleum. I’ve got a few left but most of them got liquidated … and I’m not discussing how … and that’s what I used to buy some of the specialty equipment and pay the first bit of payroll until the jobs started paying off. Everything is self sufficient right now but I’ve got cash reserves just in case. So knock off the guilt tripping … it’s a waste of energy and time.”
“You sure about that?”
“I trusted you then and trust you now. I do wonder if any of the other … oh who cares. I had that stuff for less than a year. I lived without it before and I’ve lived without it sense.”
“I got your pictures and other stuff out. Managed to save most of what was in the storage room, and I’ll even crack a bottle of the wine you made now and again. It ain’t around here though. I got a spot up in Branson, MO in an old RV park that happens to be next door to a storage facility. Er … Food is about gone. Before Hubert got his commercial fishing back up and running the family was hurting. I gave them about half of it and I’ve been living off the other half off and on, depending on if I was working or not.”
“Good. I was worried that it had gone to waste.”
“But …”
“Em, you gotta get rid of that complex you got. I left all that stuff to you because I trusted you. You didn’t let me down. Then … or now.”
##### ##### #####
It was a good week for both of us. We fished, we hunted, we looked over what was left of the town. It made Em a little sad but not so bad that I had to put off doing my job. And I started thinking of possibilities. But all good things must come to an end. I had finally gotten up the nerve to go see Uncle Henley’s grave … and understanding I needed to deal with some things over in Florida as well. Dad would have a fit if he thought I was worshiping the family like an ancient Egyptian but … I at least needed to make sure there wasn’t some government agency waiting on somebody to claim the graves.
Em said, “I … I got a job that starts in two days. I can’t afford to …”
“If you’re worried I don’t understand … don’t. Higg told me this morning there’s nothing keeping me from going back. There’s a new story on the front page. Looks like Cali – or what’s left of it – thinks it can secede. Some of the folks out there don’t like the new sheriff in town and they don’t like that there’s being a lot of forced resettlement of Hispanics that crossed the border illegally during the war.”
“Then let ‘em.”
“Uh uh. The Pacific coastal border is still too important for security reasons. They’re going to turn the Expansion Lands – the temporary name of the Northern Mexico lands we now have to take care of according to the Peace Treaty – into work farms and government reclamation jobs for people that can’t prove their immigration or citizenship status but who aren’t complete buttheads and deserve a chance to work their way up. As of this morning you gotta ‘show your papers’ before you can buy groceries, drive a vehicle, travel, purchase fuel and other commodities, and other stuff. And businesses are responsible for only hiring people with the right kind of identification.”
“Holy hell. That’s as bad as it was during the war.”
“Yeah, thank the idiots that are trying to stir crap up and ask for reparations and other manure. I expect the mess to get worse before it gets better but I’m already working on getting some of my guys the right docs.” At his questioning look. “Immigrants that served honorably during the war on our side are automatically granted citizenship. Their families not so much; however, they can petition but there’s plenty of rules that they have to follow. Most of my guys in that boat are single, but I do have one that has a family. Problem is his two sons are crapheads and their marriage is common law and they can’t fix things because she’s still illegal and too lazy to get her docs cleaned up. They aren’t going to make the cut. He and his wife were already having problems, this isn’t going to make things any easier. I honestly don’t know if he’ll go with them down to the resettlement area or just what.”
When he looked at me I asked, “What?”
“This suits you.”
“Huh?”
He was quiet and didn’t answer me for a while. Then he surprised the heck out of me. “I need a month to finish this project then I’ll see if I can find anything in New Orleans. And if that ain’t clear enough, I’m asking you to wait for me.”
It took me a minute to process. Then I surprised him. “It’s going to take me about that long and a little more to figure out which of my foremen want their own crews and which will be happy remaining a partner. And to convince one of them to take over the New Orleans office instead of going into the field. I want to start a satellite office to send more crews north and west. I’d been considering it for a while but this moves the time table up.”
Startled but willing to play along for obvious reasons he asked, “Where you want to start it?”
“I’m thinking about Breaux Bridge. It’s only 2 hours from New Orleans. Depends on what I find out when I start talking to people. Shreveport might work just as well though … depending on what you think …”
“Breaux Bridge makes sense. You’ve got the river for transportation of supplies, and the interstate for easy access to other parts of the country. You going to rent the Isabella?”
“Nah. Want a clean slate with no memories attached to it. I’ve got some ideas running around in my head, even have some things in storage. Maybe … you got some ideas of your own. If you want to.”
Sex hadn’t even been part of our conversations. Sleep was beside each other but not with each other. There was still way too much to work through before we took that step, if we ever did. I still wasn’t sure that I could ever offer anyone anymore than a type of friendship. But right there, right then I had no qualms about seeing just how close I could get.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, great chapters. Plus 10 to 12 inches of snow out there.
Chapter 100
The month we were to spend apart turned into six. First it was setting up a new Chief Cook and Bottle Washer for the New Orleans office. In the end, after much heartburn on my part, it turned out to be a partnership. Higg – who was great in admin but didn’t have field experience – handled a lot of the administrative crap and Robert Howard – who hated all things paperwork and phone related – took over the field operations. It turned out to be a really good fit for both of them and I learned a valuable lesson. When you think you must do everything yourself, you make the mistake of missing some of the best talent of other people. And a lesson I had to re-learn … a load shared is a load lightened.
The next kaflooey was Em’s. The job that was only to take a month turned into more like three because he kept getting called in due to his still active security clearance. There were some buildings that had to be rewired long enough for them to get certain records and equipment out of there, but they wanted to do most of the scanning and destroying on-site. Which was fine because vid-calls were sufficient for both of us after a long day and I was in the middle of negotiations for a large bit of land that backed up to Bayou Teche.
It was NW of the Isabella and on the same side of the bayou. The man who owned it, claimed to own it, didn’t want to give it up but couldn’t afford to rehab and clean up the commercial site “just yet.” He had also joined a lawsuit trying to prevent the State from imposing fines for code enforcement issues. Turns out that the guy claiming ownership didn’t actually hold the deed; he was in a Lease Option but hadn’t put the rest of the deposit down. The survivors of the estate that did hold the deed had proof that he’d violated his lease and that they’d had an eviction in process prior to the night of the evacuation. They in turn were in negotiations with the State to take the property in lieu of fines and clean up costs. Because, as everyone has been finding out since the Riots of 2020, hazard insurance does not cover acts of terrorism, riots, war, etc. In other words, it was a mess. The problem was that the various arms of the government weren’t communicating. Then add people in that were unscrupulous and those trying to do things illegally, and the fraud and all the rest, there was a royal mess every which way your turned.
I was close to giving up and rethinking the plans that I’d already gotten invested in enough that I was buying supplies; but then Em said he knew someone that knew someone from the “old days” and that their cousin’s son-in-law might have an in with the State that had realized it had bitten off more than it could chew with the whole “use code enforcement to bring the State back on line.” A lot of people had left the Gulf Coast during the evacuations and weren’t interested in returning and many gulf coast states were hemorrhaging tax income. Old Timers said it was the same after this hurricane that smacked New Orleans upside the head and a lot of evacuees that had headed to Texas and Florida just never returned.
With Em’s bassakward contacts I was finally able to get the ground I wanted. It cost a little more because there were more fines than had originally been listed and it was going to cost more in clean up, but both were because I bought an adjacent property that the family also owned as incentive for them to let go and move on. I suppose I could have found something else cheaper but the more I thought about it the more invested I became in the ideas forming in my head. I was going to have more to look after than I ever had at the Isabella, quite a bit more; from just south of Bayou Ln to the corner of Berard St. and Mills Ave where the Food n Fun had been. The only exception to this is the acreage owned by the folks that still held the Bayou Cabins. Those folks got a little worried thinking I was going to come in and build a resort but by the time I was finished laughing my butt off we were all on the same page and thinking in terms of partnership rather than competitors.
Em was a little blown away, including his pride, when he realized just how big a tract of land we were talking about and the kind of plans I had been making without him.
“Business has been good and this way we can …”
“What’s this ‘we’ crap?” he snarled.
I must confess I had gotten a little worried when Higg asked me what Em thought of it all. I’d just been doing my thing as I always had and that was the first cold fish to slap me in the face. To cover some of my own discomfort I asked him tongue in cheek, “Don’t you want to be a kept man?”
Wrong thing to say. He was not amused. “You know if I was there instead of on the other side of this vid screen exactly what you’d be due?”
Caught between my own anger and trying to use humor to defuse things I responded, “Try it and see if you don’t start limping again. Maybe then you’ll let me do what I can instead of acting like I’m some damaged little prima donna.”
“What the hell is that about?” he asked, this time not snapping and more concerned with my apparent attitude.
I sighed. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like anything is worth it if … if I don’t have a crew to share it with.”
“You’’ve got a crew. You’ve got fourteen at last count.”
“No. That’s the business. Plus two of them are independents, not my crews anymore. I used to think it was more than it was, but it isn’t. They’ll come. They’ll go. Some will advance. Some will … not. I mean a crew. Not someone I have to pay to stick around.”
His anger over with he’d started listening. “You mean a family.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “And all this does is make it seem like … like you … er … nevermind.”
“Naw, uh uh Cher. We gonna talk about this. Because unless I haven’t said it lately or enough, I’ll take you anyway I can get you. But I also need to pull my weight. You gonna need to let me and stop protecting me from whatever problems you think you have. Because we are crew … family one way or another … the kind that I resent you think you need to pay to keep around.”
Well we did talk it out some more and I realized that I was a little worried that to keep him wanting to be around I needed to do things that kept him looking in other directions besides at my weaknesses that he’d feel duty bound to try and help me deal with. I didn’t necessarily need to be “Cap” with him, but I did need to feel a full partner in whatever we wound up creating. I was no longer satisfied to only play follow the leader, or hide my light under a bushel to save anyone’s pride. Once you’ve been Boss Dog it is damn hard to ever completely change back to just being a member of the pack. I think that may be why when Alphas can no longer do their job they just kinda go off and die someplace in the bushes.
I’ve seen the same thing with men and women that I’ve tried to help. That loss of personal self-worth, that change in circumstance that many of them had to face for one reason or another, was almost too much for a lot of them to take. It was easier for them to crawl off in the bushes and wait to die than it was to do battle with what had changed their circumstances. And for some of them … nah, it isn’t my place to make those kinds of decisions or choices. I just think it would be nice for the do-gooders of the world to back the frick off and let someone take life on however they may. A hand up is a heck of a lot better than a hand out. Unfortunately, hand outs are all some want to see as a possibility … the giving or the getting. Hand ups were stickier and more work and sometimes the hand you stuck out got gnawed on up to the elbow.
I was thinking thoughts like that on one of my solitary trips to Breaux Bridge. Ostensibly it had been to survey the new site and get a better idea of the supplies and personnel I would need to accomplish my plans. In reality it was me getting out of New Orleans so I wouldn’t be tempted to take over Higg’s new way of doing things. She’d wanted to implement more tech in the office than I’d been interested in for some time. She’d also been complaining about accountability because she always said that I let the men call out too often and it really wasn’t helping them the way I imagined. She made good points and Robert Howard agreed with her though he did balance out and say call outs were just part of the landscape in both construction and dealing with people’s personal challenges but there could be a slow tightening up to keep those that didn’t do that from always having to cover for those that did. I didn’t disagree with them, but as Higg said, I wasn’t the hardass that I thought I was when it came to some of the men and that I couldn’t be boss and mother at the same time. And to prove that I trusted them I would take off when the temptation to “mother” the men got too great.
That particular trip also coincided with me being called up yet again and this time getting shot when the snake we were trying to cut the head off of came close to being a Hydra. I was mobile but I really didn’t want to spread the knowledge of my injury around. One, it could damage business and we were at a critical phase as news got out that I had ceded the New Orleans crews to new leadership – though I did it in-house so Higg and Robert Howard were known quantities and didn’t freak people out – and that I was expanding into new areas with potentially mixed crews of both Wounded Warriors and non-Vets and people were concerned about what they might mean.
I was camping out in one of the least-damaged buildings on the property when I just couldn’t stand to be house bound anymore. I packed a bag, left a note, and dragged my new pirogue down to the bayou. I looked for my old fishing and hunting spots but the more I looked the more frustrated I became. Everything had changed, or maybe it was simply that the old landmarks were gone. After a lunch of a self-heat I did the one thing that I had told myself I wouldn’t and I went looking for Yula Mae’s island.
Well I found it, or what was left of it. Cyprus trees were down all over the place and it make it difficult to get back to it. And once I did find it, the dock was completely missing. The house itself had fallen in and the water table was much higher. I was glad that I had chosen to wear my waders as most of the island had that squishy feel to it that said the water table was very high. Some of the trees in the orchard – the second highest point on the island – still lived and it looked like they were being tended to. I didn’t feel threatened so I figured it was a Swamp Person and I wouldn’t disturb their spot.
The highest spot on the island was the little cemetery. The mausoleum door had a crack in it and one of the cherubs had fallen off the roof. For a moment I was tempted to come in and clean everything back up but the a wind blew and the crack in the door let a smell waft out that reminded me too much of the battlefield. It also let me know that someone was using the mausoleum because the odor was too new to be from when I’d put Martin Edgar in there.
I nearly jumped a mile when someone said, “The boys are in there.”
I turned and saw a man that looked too old to still be breathing. I was used to deal with people that had trouble keeping their cheese on their crackers on some days and calmly asked, “The boys?”
Rather than answer me he said, “You been gone a long while Sylvee. Why you come back now?”
“I’m not Sylvee.”
“Hmm. Sylvee gave her little girl up. You her?”
“No Sir. Sylvee was my aunt. She died before I was born.”
It took a moment but the old man nodded. “Oh yeah, ‘member you now. You Henley’s niece. And you took care of Martin and Yula Mae.”
“Martin took care of … I mean buried … Yula Mae. I buried Martin. But who are the boys you said are in there now.”
“Got any chewing gum? Ain’t had any in I don’t know how long. You youngin's always seem to have chewing gum.”
I did and was more than willing to hand it over to the old man if it would move him along a little faster.
“Thankee.” Instead of opening the package he put it in the pocket of his bib overalls and made himself a home-rolled, used a zippo to light up, and then puffed a moment and then said, “We were there that night. We’d been looking for ground to hide from those that didn’t belong in the swamp. They’d been around before but not in the number they were that night. There were so many we were afraid that we’d have to leave and find a new home. We weren’t here long before crazy Danny Edgar showed up with them painted women. Lord weren’t they complaining about the skeeters eatin’ ‘em up.”
Putting two and two together I said, “That was the night of the evacuation.”
“Hmph. So’s they call it. People sure were running ‘round like ants what had had boiling water poured on the mound. But not you. You were doing what you were born to do. We watched you. One homme after another. Then the fems killed each other. Then you killed Danny and took them bébés and left.”
I nodded. “That’s what happened.”
“Ah, but you didn’t know the boys were there.”
“Boys?”
“Franc and Fontaine.”
It was like my world was slipping sideways. But remembering what the old man had said and the smell I looked to the mausoleum.
“Have they been living in the swamp this entire time?”
“What? Non! They got took by the army. When they came back they said they’d been made to fight. Would run away and then get caught by the enemy and then were made to fight for them. Back and forth until the someone said the war was over. They came out here looking for treasure.”
“When?” I asked cautiously.
“Last full moon. Said they’d been looking for this place for years. X marks the spot.”
“Isn’t any treasure.”
He nodded. “Sylvee took it and hid it so Martin would stop looking for it. Cursed. But him and Henley looked for it anyway. Killed both of ‘em. It gonna kill you?”
“No Sir,” I told him and left it at that.
“Good, good. Killed the boys.”
“How?”
He old man hawked up a wad of spit and said, “Told you. It's cursed. Gator got both of ‘em. Didn’t go fast either. He’d play with ‘em, nearly drown ‘em some, and then let ‘em get away. Watched it happen three, four times before he finally took the little fat one and tucked him up under a cypress log about twenty yards thataway.” He pointed east of the island.
“And the other?”
“The one called hisself Fontaine lasted longer but not by much. Boy was a fool for wantin’ them papers off that boat. Shoulda seen his brother's death as a warning.”
"What boat?” I asked trying to ignore the rest.
“It sank. You can just see it, ain’t but about three feet down.”
“It was underwater and they were diving for it?!”
“Naw. Boys were idiots but not that bad. Wellll mebbe, but still smart enough to know they couldn’t swim in these waters. The boat used to be hung up in some cypress knees but ever since the gator got ‘em the water has been rising, the boat came loose of the knees, and sank.”
I was wondering if the old man was crazy or yanking my chain.
The month we were to spend apart turned into six. First it was setting up a new Chief Cook and Bottle Washer for the New Orleans office. In the end, after much heartburn on my part, it turned out to be a partnership. Higg – who was great in admin but didn’t have field experience – handled a lot of the administrative crap and Robert Howard – who hated all things paperwork and phone related – took over the field operations. It turned out to be a really good fit for both of them and I learned a valuable lesson. When you think you must do everything yourself, you make the mistake of missing some of the best talent of other people. And a lesson I had to re-learn … a load shared is a load lightened.
The next kaflooey was Em’s. The job that was only to take a month turned into more like three because he kept getting called in due to his still active security clearance. There were some buildings that had to be rewired long enough for them to get certain records and equipment out of there, but they wanted to do most of the scanning and destroying on-site. Which was fine because vid-calls were sufficient for both of us after a long day and I was in the middle of negotiations for a large bit of land that backed up to Bayou Teche.
It was NW of the Isabella and on the same side of the bayou. The man who owned it, claimed to own it, didn’t want to give it up but couldn’t afford to rehab and clean up the commercial site “just yet.” He had also joined a lawsuit trying to prevent the State from imposing fines for code enforcement issues. Turns out that the guy claiming ownership didn’t actually hold the deed; he was in a Lease Option but hadn’t put the rest of the deposit down. The survivors of the estate that did hold the deed had proof that he’d violated his lease and that they’d had an eviction in process prior to the night of the evacuation. They in turn were in negotiations with the State to take the property in lieu of fines and clean up costs. Because, as everyone has been finding out since the Riots of 2020, hazard insurance does not cover acts of terrorism, riots, war, etc. In other words, it was a mess. The problem was that the various arms of the government weren’t communicating. Then add people in that were unscrupulous and those trying to do things illegally, and the fraud and all the rest, there was a royal mess every which way your turned.
I was close to giving up and rethinking the plans that I’d already gotten invested in enough that I was buying supplies; but then Em said he knew someone that knew someone from the “old days” and that their cousin’s son-in-law might have an in with the State that had realized it had bitten off more than it could chew with the whole “use code enforcement to bring the State back on line.” A lot of people had left the Gulf Coast during the evacuations and weren’t interested in returning and many gulf coast states were hemorrhaging tax income. Old Timers said it was the same after this hurricane that smacked New Orleans upside the head and a lot of evacuees that had headed to Texas and Florida just never returned.
With Em’s bassakward contacts I was finally able to get the ground I wanted. It cost a little more because there were more fines than had originally been listed and it was going to cost more in clean up, but both were because I bought an adjacent property that the family also owned as incentive for them to let go and move on. I suppose I could have found something else cheaper but the more I thought about it the more invested I became in the ideas forming in my head. I was going to have more to look after than I ever had at the Isabella, quite a bit more; from just south of Bayou Ln to the corner of Berard St. and Mills Ave where the Food n Fun had been. The only exception to this is the acreage owned by the folks that still held the Bayou Cabins. Those folks got a little worried thinking I was going to come in and build a resort but by the time I was finished laughing my butt off we were all on the same page and thinking in terms of partnership rather than competitors.
Em was a little blown away, including his pride, when he realized just how big a tract of land we were talking about and the kind of plans I had been making without him.
“Business has been good and this way we can …”
“What’s this ‘we’ crap?” he snarled.
I must confess I had gotten a little worried when Higg asked me what Em thought of it all. I’d just been doing my thing as I always had and that was the first cold fish to slap me in the face. To cover some of my own discomfort I asked him tongue in cheek, “Don’t you want to be a kept man?”
Wrong thing to say. He was not amused. “You know if I was there instead of on the other side of this vid screen exactly what you’d be due?”
Caught between my own anger and trying to use humor to defuse things I responded, “Try it and see if you don’t start limping again. Maybe then you’ll let me do what I can instead of acting like I’m some damaged little prima donna.”
“What the hell is that about?” he asked, this time not snapping and more concerned with my apparent attitude.
I sighed. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like anything is worth it if … if I don’t have a crew to share it with.”
“You’’ve got a crew. You’ve got fourteen at last count.”
“No. That’s the business. Plus two of them are independents, not my crews anymore. I used to think it was more than it was, but it isn’t. They’ll come. They’ll go. Some will advance. Some will … not. I mean a crew. Not someone I have to pay to stick around.”
His anger over with he’d started listening. “You mean a family.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “And all this does is make it seem like … like you … er … nevermind.”
“Naw, uh uh Cher. We gonna talk about this. Because unless I haven’t said it lately or enough, I’ll take you anyway I can get you. But I also need to pull my weight. You gonna need to let me and stop protecting me from whatever problems you think you have. Because we are crew … family one way or another … the kind that I resent you think you need to pay to keep around.”
Well we did talk it out some more and I realized that I was a little worried that to keep him wanting to be around I needed to do things that kept him looking in other directions besides at my weaknesses that he’d feel duty bound to try and help me deal with. I didn’t necessarily need to be “Cap” with him, but I did need to feel a full partner in whatever we wound up creating. I was no longer satisfied to only play follow the leader, or hide my light under a bushel to save anyone’s pride. Once you’ve been Boss Dog it is damn hard to ever completely change back to just being a member of the pack. I think that may be why when Alphas can no longer do their job they just kinda go off and die someplace in the bushes.
I’ve seen the same thing with men and women that I’ve tried to help. That loss of personal self-worth, that change in circumstance that many of them had to face for one reason or another, was almost too much for a lot of them to take. It was easier for them to crawl off in the bushes and wait to die than it was to do battle with what had changed their circumstances. And for some of them … nah, it isn’t my place to make those kinds of decisions or choices. I just think it would be nice for the do-gooders of the world to back the frick off and let someone take life on however they may. A hand up is a heck of a lot better than a hand out. Unfortunately, hand outs are all some want to see as a possibility … the giving or the getting. Hand ups were stickier and more work and sometimes the hand you stuck out got gnawed on up to the elbow.
I was thinking thoughts like that on one of my solitary trips to Breaux Bridge. Ostensibly it had been to survey the new site and get a better idea of the supplies and personnel I would need to accomplish my plans. In reality it was me getting out of New Orleans so I wouldn’t be tempted to take over Higg’s new way of doing things. She’d wanted to implement more tech in the office than I’d been interested in for some time. She’d also been complaining about accountability because she always said that I let the men call out too often and it really wasn’t helping them the way I imagined. She made good points and Robert Howard agreed with her though he did balance out and say call outs were just part of the landscape in both construction and dealing with people’s personal challenges but there could be a slow tightening up to keep those that didn’t do that from always having to cover for those that did. I didn’t disagree with them, but as Higg said, I wasn’t the hardass that I thought I was when it came to some of the men and that I couldn’t be boss and mother at the same time. And to prove that I trusted them I would take off when the temptation to “mother” the men got too great.
That particular trip also coincided with me being called up yet again and this time getting shot when the snake we were trying to cut the head off of came close to being a Hydra. I was mobile but I really didn’t want to spread the knowledge of my injury around. One, it could damage business and we were at a critical phase as news got out that I had ceded the New Orleans crews to new leadership – though I did it in-house so Higg and Robert Howard were known quantities and didn’t freak people out – and that I was expanding into new areas with potentially mixed crews of both Wounded Warriors and non-Vets and people were concerned about what they might mean.
I was camping out in one of the least-damaged buildings on the property when I just couldn’t stand to be house bound anymore. I packed a bag, left a note, and dragged my new pirogue down to the bayou. I looked for my old fishing and hunting spots but the more I looked the more frustrated I became. Everything had changed, or maybe it was simply that the old landmarks were gone. After a lunch of a self-heat I did the one thing that I had told myself I wouldn’t and I went looking for Yula Mae’s island.
Well I found it, or what was left of it. Cyprus trees were down all over the place and it make it difficult to get back to it. And once I did find it, the dock was completely missing. The house itself had fallen in and the water table was much higher. I was glad that I had chosen to wear my waders as most of the island had that squishy feel to it that said the water table was very high. Some of the trees in the orchard – the second highest point on the island – still lived and it looked like they were being tended to. I didn’t feel threatened so I figured it was a Swamp Person and I wouldn’t disturb their spot.
The highest spot on the island was the little cemetery. The mausoleum door had a crack in it and one of the cherubs had fallen off the roof. For a moment I was tempted to come in and clean everything back up but the a wind blew and the crack in the door let a smell waft out that reminded me too much of the battlefield. It also let me know that someone was using the mausoleum because the odor was too new to be from when I’d put Martin Edgar in there.
I nearly jumped a mile when someone said, “The boys are in there.”
I turned and saw a man that looked too old to still be breathing. I was used to deal with people that had trouble keeping their cheese on their crackers on some days and calmly asked, “The boys?”
Rather than answer me he said, “You been gone a long while Sylvee. Why you come back now?”
“I’m not Sylvee.”
“Hmm. Sylvee gave her little girl up. You her?”
“No Sir. Sylvee was my aunt. She died before I was born.”
It took a moment but the old man nodded. “Oh yeah, ‘member you now. You Henley’s niece. And you took care of Martin and Yula Mae.”
“Martin took care of … I mean buried … Yula Mae. I buried Martin. But who are the boys you said are in there now.”
“Got any chewing gum? Ain’t had any in I don’t know how long. You youngin's always seem to have chewing gum.”
I did and was more than willing to hand it over to the old man if it would move him along a little faster.
“Thankee.” Instead of opening the package he put it in the pocket of his bib overalls and made himself a home-rolled, used a zippo to light up, and then puffed a moment and then said, “We were there that night. We’d been looking for ground to hide from those that didn’t belong in the swamp. They’d been around before but not in the number they were that night. There were so many we were afraid that we’d have to leave and find a new home. We weren’t here long before crazy Danny Edgar showed up with them painted women. Lord weren’t they complaining about the skeeters eatin’ ‘em up.”
Putting two and two together I said, “That was the night of the evacuation.”
“Hmph. So’s they call it. People sure were running ‘round like ants what had had boiling water poured on the mound. But not you. You were doing what you were born to do. We watched you. One homme after another. Then the fems killed each other. Then you killed Danny and took them bébés and left.”
I nodded. “That’s what happened.”
“Ah, but you didn’t know the boys were there.”
“Boys?”
“Franc and Fontaine.”
It was like my world was slipping sideways. But remembering what the old man had said and the smell I looked to the mausoleum.
“Have they been living in the swamp this entire time?”
“What? Non! They got took by the army. When they came back they said they’d been made to fight. Would run away and then get caught by the enemy and then were made to fight for them. Back and forth until the someone said the war was over. They came out here looking for treasure.”
“When?” I asked cautiously.
“Last full moon. Said they’d been looking for this place for years. X marks the spot.”
“Isn’t any treasure.”
He nodded. “Sylvee took it and hid it so Martin would stop looking for it. Cursed. But him and Henley looked for it anyway. Killed both of ‘em. It gonna kill you?”
“No Sir,” I told him and left it at that.
“Good, good. Killed the boys.”
“How?”
He old man hawked up a wad of spit and said, “Told you. It's cursed. Gator got both of ‘em. Didn’t go fast either. He’d play with ‘em, nearly drown ‘em some, and then let ‘em get away. Watched it happen three, four times before he finally took the little fat one and tucked him up under a cypress log about twenty yards thataway.” He pointed east of the island.
“And the other?”
“The one called hisself Fontaine lasted longer but not by much. Boy was a fool for wantin’ them papers off that boat. Shoulda seen his brother's death as a warning.”
"What boat?” I asked trying to ignore the rest.
“It sank. You can just see it, ain’t but about three feet down.”
“It was underwater and they were diving for it?!”
“Naw. Boys were idiots but not that bad. Wellll mebbe, but still smart enough to know they couldn’t swim in these waters. The boat used to be hung up in some cypress knees but ever since the gator got ‘em the water has been rising, the boat came loose of the knees, and sank.”
I was wondering if the old man was crazy or yanking my chain.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Love it, thank you so much.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
Not to worry....I'm sure that'll all be reconciled shortly....I mean Kathy has left us on a cliff now & then but she wouldn't leave us hanging forever....would you Kathy?
Kathy ?
I'm working on it, just untangling some stuff as I go. ROFL.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Well dang, tease me much! lol. Good luck with it all Kathy.
Youngest son came up today to help his dad get more of the split wood into the new wood shed part of the lean-to.
Youngest son came up today to help his dad get more of the split wood into the new wood shed part of the lean-to.
Chapter 101
Everything that I had thought I buried for good the night of the evacuation was coming back to life and trying to entrap me all over again … the good stuff and the bad. And more fool me for wanting to tie up loose ends instead of simply letting old dogs lie … on this case bones stay buried.
It isn’t that the details of the night of the evacuation were fuzzy, I just hadn’t given them a lot of brain space as my life since then had required my full attention. After a quick thought I realized that I could have easily missed the Dumbtastic Duo if they were hiding from me. It isn’t like I was wanting to hang around with a fire bearing down on me and the kids. I hadn’t even wondered how and when Daniel Edgar had found the island – hunt and peck with a map? Followed his merry band of his idiot brother Remy? Or why he would pick it for the hypothetical exchange of the “treasure” he somehow knew that I had for the kids. For effect? Or because he knew I knew the location? And how did he know I knew the location? Everything was kind of fuzzy and I had just taken things at face value back then.
It takes longer for me to explain my thoughts than it was to have them. I gave the old man a look and said, “Fine. So they were here that night and so were you. All three of you escaped because God has a sense of humor or just wants to frog me in the back of the head on occasion. Either or. You say they made the mistake of trying to find some treasure based on some papers that probably hadn’t weathered the test of time while they were stuck on that boat since the war. Too bad for them and all it does is reinforce to me how stupid they are … were.”
The old man cackled. “You do sound like Sylvee. Shame your grandmother married Matthieu before Sylvee could get over her mad. Matthieu tried to sort it all out, make amends, she wouldn’t let him. He thought you were Sylvee’s too you know.”
“Vous êtes fou. My grandfather did not think I was Sylvee’s kid.”
“Her grandchild … at first. Thought your mama was Sylvee’s for a while. Fool loved Sylvee too much and saw her in everything and everyone on some days.”
I shook my head. “I’ll say it again. You’re crazy. Who are you anyway? How do you know so much about all the stupid in my family?”
He laughed and then asked, “You seen the family tree?”
“Yeah. And?”
“The one in the Levert Bible?”
More cautiously I repeated, “Yeah. And?”
“Ever wonder why there was so many scratch marks?”
“Handwriting was bad? People were illiterate about half the time they tried to add something?”
He snorted. “Nah. My grandfather was a bear for being able to read and write. If you didn’t do your learning like he wanted, you got beat and given hard labor. Old man wasn’t near the saint Yula Mae tried to paint him to Sylvee. She was the only one that was allowed to be different.”
Oh Lord.
“Yula Mae?”
He cackled and it brought back memories I thought I’d forgotten of the first time I’d met Yula Mae and her laugh at run off the Gackles.
He said, “Surprised you didn’t I.”
Looking for the game I asked, “So are you lying to me?”
He shook his head. “Non. Now listen up. Times short. Least mine is. Thought to come back here for some peace and quiet but haven’t seem to find any. Yula Mae, she hid me so’s no one could put me back in that home. Some home. Tell you when you can get up, when you gotta sleep, all them damn pills to make your sleep and wake up, when people could come see you – though not like my kids wanted to after they finally put me away – when you could come and go, and the food? Laws it had no taste to it at all. No drinkin’. No home rolls. That life was no life.”
Not believing it I said to him, “You are standing there with your face all hanging out and telling me that not only are you a Levert, you’re Yula Mae’s brother. And why should I believe you?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. I could be more Edgar than Levert. At least that’s what Granpere always thought. It’s why when my father died he wouldn’t take me in like he did Yula Mae.”
My head was starting to hurt. “Wait, wait, wait. If you are Yula Mae’s brother, her father couldn’t be your grandfather. Not unless we are talking some seriously sick crap. And while there’s rot in the family tree I didn’t think there was that kind.”
He laughed until he coughed and then invited me to his camp to “sit a spell.” God help me I went. It was like eating potato chips. Once you opened the bag all you could do was keep eating them until they were all gone.
Everything that I had thought I buried for good the night of the evacuation was coming back to life and trying to entrap me all over again … the good stuff and the bad. And more fool me for wanting to tie up loose ends instead of simply letting old dogs lie … on this case bones stay buried.
It isn’t that the details of the night of the evacuation were fuzzy, I just hadn’t given them a lot of brain space as my life since then had required my full attention. After a quick thought I realized that I could have easily missed the Dumbtastic Duo if they were hiding from me. It isn’t like I was wanting to hang around with a fire bearing down on me and the kids. I hadn’t even wondered how and when Daniel Edgar had found the island – hunt and peck with a map? Followed his merry band of his idiot brother Remy? Or why he would pick it for the hypothetical exchange of the “treasure” he somehow knew that I had for the kids. For effect? Or because he knew I knew the location? And how did he know I knew the location? Everything was kind of fuzzy and I had just taken things at face value back then.
It takes longer for me to explain my thoughts than it was to have them. I gave the old man a look and said, “Fine. So they were here that night and so were you. All three of you escaped because God has a sense of humor or just wants to frog me in the back of the head on occasion. Either or. You say they made the mistake of trying to find some treasure based on some papers that probably hadn’t weathered the test of time while they were stuck on that boat since the war. Too bad for them and all it does is reinforce to me how stupid they are … were.”
The old man cackled. “You do sound like Sylvee. Shame your grandmother married Matthieu before Sylvee could get over her mad. Matthieu tried to sort it all out, make amends, she wouldn’t let him. He thought you were Sylvee’s too you know.”
“Vous êtes fou. My grandfather did not think I was Sylvee’s kid.”
“Her grandchild … at first. Thought your mama was Sylvee’s for a while. Fool loved Sylvee too much and saw her in everything and everyone on some days.”
I shook my head. “I’ll say it again. You’re crazy. Who are you anyway? How do you know so much about all the stupid in my family?”
He laughed and then asked, “You seen the family tree?”
“Yeah. And?”
“The one in the Levert Bible?”
More cautiously I repeated, “Yeah. And?”
“Ever wonder why there was so many scratch marks?”
“Handwriting was bad? People were illiterate about half the time they tried to add something?”
He snorted. “Nah. My grandfather was a bear for being able to read and write. If you didn’t do your learning like he wanted, you got beat and given hard labor. Old man wasn’t near the saint Yula Mae tried to paint him to Sylvee. She was the only one that was allowed to be different.”
Oh Lord.
“Yula Mae?”
He cackled and it brought back memories I thought I’d forgotten of the first time I’d met Yula Mae and her laugh at run off the Gackles.
He said, “Surprised you didn’t I.”
Looking for the game I asked, “So are you lying to me?”
He shook his head. “Non. Now listen up. Times short. Least mine is. Thought to come back here for some peace and quiet but haven’t seem to find any. Yula Mae, she hid me so’s no one could put me back in that home. Some home. Tell you when you can get up, when you gotta sleep, all them damn pills to make your sleep and wake up, when people could come see you – though not like my kids wanted to after they finally put me away – when you could come and go, and the food? Laws it had no taste to it at all. No drinkin’. No home rolls. That life was no life.”
Not believing it I said to him, “You are standing there with your face all hanging out and telling me that not only are you a Levert, you’re Yula Mae’s brother. And why should I believe you?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. I could be more Edgar than Levert. At least that’s what Granpere always thought. It’s why when my father died he wouldn’t take me in like he did Yula Mae.”
My head was starting to hurt. “Wait, wait, wait. If you are Yula Mae’s brother, her father couldn’t be your grandfather. Not unless we are talking some seriously sick crap. And while there’s rot in the family tree I didn’t think there was that kind.”
He laughed until he coughed and then invited me to his camp to “sit a spell.” God help me I went. It was like eating potato chips. Once you opened the bag all you could do was keep eating them until they were all gone.
Chapter 102
“Sit a spell girl. Take a load off.” Once I did he asked, “Whachu know about the family?”
“Besides there’s more than just a little bit of crazy running through it? Enough.”
He laughed again. “You never have grown out of that sass. Can understand why Matthieu was taken with you. You reminded him of Sylvee.”
“Beg your pardon but your timeline is all messed up. Aunt Sylvee died several years before I was born.”
He looked at me with his dark raven eyes and then nodded. “Seems perhaps things have slipped a bit. The docs said that would happen, would get forgetful worse and worse until one day I wouldn’t remember nothing and no one. Truth be I’m not unhappy about forgetting most of this life. Hain’t exactly been an easy one.”
“You call Yula Mae sister.”
He nodded like a bobble head. “She is … was. We was born on a full moon with cords wrapped around our necks and cauls covering our faces. Set Granny Edgar’s tail feathers on fire even though she herself was a Swamp Wtich. Sent word to our grandfather that she wasn’t going to bear the burden of our funerals and he’d best come help her or she’d tell the world that his son ran off and got killed rather than do the honest thing and stick around and marry her daughter, who was his cousin on top of it that he shouldn’t have been messing with. Granny was a Frechette before she married.”
The sound of a key turning seemed to sound in the back of my head.
“So Yula Mae’s parents were really her – your – grandparents. Sylvee mentioned the possibility in a journal she left behind. She never mentioned you.”
He snorted. “Possibility? I told her myself. She knew the truth; she just didn’t want to know it. It would mean having to let the Levert’s off the pedestal the Old Man tried to leave us on. The only reason he took Yula Mae to raise is because his wife wanted a girl and was too old to have anymore. Said Yula Mae was an answer to prayers, a girl child that would never grow up and leave them the way all their sons had.”
“Er … what happened to you?” I asked, curious despite my disbelief.
“Lived, much to the disappointment of my mother who got pregnant again not long after. When that ‘un decided he wasn’t going to pay for milk he got free, she ran off to start a new life. Don’t know what happened to her. I got left with Granny and my half-brother until I was old enough to go out and get work on my own on the boats. It was either leave or have that limb of Satan that my Granny loved better cleave my head in two one night in my sleep. Granny called me demon but it was my brother that was that thing, not me. When the boats no longer thrilled me and I was old enough to know better but too young not to take the chance, I did a stint in the military. After that I got married, divorced, and then came home to find Granny dead, my brother missing, and Yula Mae living here alone except for when Sylvee would come to check on her.”
“You do know I’m finding all of this hard to believe.”
“Would too if I were in your shoes. Here. Take these papers afore I forget,” he said reaching into what looked like the homeless push around in grocery carts only his was kept in a pirogue. “Mattheiu always said you should have them. Didn’t trust your Granmere to give them to you and didn’t want your father to chuck ‘em in the swamp rather than see you gifted them. And Henley would have just stole ‘em out of jealousy. Boy had rocks in his head over the treasure. Every man that has ever had anything to do with the treasure has gotten the curse. But not Sylvee. And not you.”
I shook my head. “The treasure is all gone.”
“Non little girl, it’s not. If Martin had only known how close he was to finding it that night in the cemetery.”
I sat up straight. “What have you been doing?! Following us all around like some crazy ol’ haunt for all these years?!”
The cackle he made that time echoed deep into the Swamp.
“Sit a spell girl. Take a load off.” Once I did he asked, “Whachu know about the family?”
“Besides there’s more than just a little bit of crazy running through it? Enough.”
He laughed again. “You never have grown out of that sass. Can understand why Matthieu was taken with you. You reminded him of Sylvee.”
“Beg your pardon but your timeline is all messed up. Aunt Sylvee died several years before I was born.”
He looked at me with his dark raven eyes and then nodded. “Seems perhaps things have slipped a bit. The docs said that would happen, would get forgetful worse and worse until one day I wouldn’t remember nothing and no one. Truth be I’m not unhappy about forgetting most of this life. Hain’t exactly been an easy one.”
“You call Yula Mae sister.”
He nodded like a bobble head. “She is … was. We was born on a full moon with cords wrapped around our necks and cauls covering our faces. Set Granny Edgar’s tail feathers on fire even though she herself was a Swamp Wtich. Sent word to our grandfather that she wasn’t going to bear the burden of our funerals and he’d best come help her or she’d tell the world that his son ran off and got killed rather than do the honest thing and stick around and marry her daughter, who was his cousin on top of it that he shouldn’t have been messing with. Granny was a Frechette before she married.”
The sound of a key turning seemed to sound in the back of my head.
“So Yula Mae’s parents were really her – your – grandparents. Sylvee mentioned the possibility in a journal she left behind. She never mentioned you.”
He snorted. “Possibility? I told her myself. She knew the truth; she just didn’t want to know it. It would mean having to let the Levert’s off the pedestal the Old Man tried to leave us on. The only reason he took Yula Mae to raise is because his wife wanted a girl and was too old to have anymore. Said Yula Mae was an answer to prayers, a girl child that would never grow up and leave them the way all their sons had.”
“Er … what happened to you?” I asked, curious despite my disbelief.
“Lived, much to the disappointment of my mother who got pregnant again not long after. When that ‘un decided he wasn’t going to pay for milk he got free, she ran off to start a new life. Don’t know what happened to her. I got left with Granny and my half-brother until I was old enough to go out and get work on my own on the boats. It was either leave or have that limb of Satan that my Granny loved better cleave my head in two one night in my sleep. Granny called me demon but it was my brother that was that thing, not me. When the boats no longer thrilled me and I was old enough to know better but too young not to take the chance, I did a stint in the military. After that I got married, divorced, and then came home to find Granny dead, my brother missing, and Yula Mae living here alone except for when Sylvee would come to check on her.”
“You do know I’m finding all of this hard to believe.”
“Would too if I were in your shoes. Here. Take these papers afore I forget,” he said reaching into what looked like the homeless push around in grocery carts only his was kept in a pirogue. “Mattheiu always said you should have them. Didn’t trust your Granmere to give them to you and didn’t want your father to chuck ‘em in the swamp rather than see you gifted them. And Henley would have just stole ‘em out of jealousy. Boy had rocks in his head over the treasure. Every man that has ever had anything to do with the treasure has gotten the curse. But not Sylvee. And not you.”
I shook my head. “The treasure is all gone.”
“Non little girl, it’s not. If Martin had only known how close he was to finding it that night in the cemetery.”
I sat up straight. “What have you been doing?! Following us all around like some crazy ol’ haunt for all these years?!”
The cackle he made that time echoed deep into the Swamp.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Wow! Very nice, love it. Thank you.
Chapter 103
I won’t record all of the insanity the old man told me about. Suffice it to say that Uncle Henley’s crazy over the treasure paled in comparison to much that had gone on in the family over the years and that the Thibodaux line is perhaps the sanest of the three ... Thibodaux, Frechette, and Levert. He also pointed out that the Frechette and Levert lines had “intermingled” with the Edgar family over the generations.
“Your father did a good thing by moving you away though it broke Matthieu’s heart. Your father was the first man of the family to turn his nose up to the treasure, valuing family over riches. Matthieu respected that. He didn’t like it, but he did respect it. Henley saw it and wanted that respect for himself so followed his brother to Florida and for a time all was well. Until that time your family came to visit, and Mason could stand it no longer and thought to use you to get what he thought belonged to him.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember it. Still, I’m not convinced that my grandfather would have murdered his own brother and not owned up to it.”
“’Cause he didn’t do no such thing. You killed Mason.”
My mouth fell open. “The hell you say. I was a baby!”
“You were old enough and something happened that you were in the center of. When you was took Matthieu went calling for help to find you. He’d done enough good turns for plenty of swamp folks that quite a few turned up. Swamp is no place for a baby. Turned out is wasn’t a good place for Mason. I was there when you was found. You was covered in blood and not moving and we all feared you dead. Turns out you’d just cried yourself to an exhausted sleep. When Old Mags picked you up you were lying on a knife. Big butcher knife it was. We all looked around and that’s when we found Mason with a deep ol’ slice up his arm. He’d tried to stop the bleeding by tying off the arm, but it must have been a gusher no one could stop.”
“I was just a baby,” I repeated. “No way I fought a grown man.”
“Wellll, mayhap it was just an accident. Mason coulda tripped or been using his own blood to chum the water for gators. However it happened, it was still decided to hush it up. Old Mags put the idea in Matthieu’s head that if word got out could be they’d take you away. He wanted none of that so … he didn’t do the deed, wouldn’t lie and say he did, but he let the gossip be what it was rather than risk your loss. ‘Course your father kept you as much away as he could from then on. Only came for short visits and blamed the business and you children being in school when the truth was he feared for your lives. He knew of the treasure you see but didn’t value it the way most men would. His family was his treasure and one he refused to risk.”
And didn’t that give me a lot to think about. I’d lost my family too soon and the one I miss the most is Robbie to this day. But perhaps I hadn’t been giving my father enough credit. If the old man’s story was true, certainly it gave me insight to my father I’d never had. And then I had a foolish thought.
“I guess Uncle Henley was trying to protect me too.”
The old man chortled cynically. “Like hell he was. Henley just couldn’t be bothered once he got the treasure fever. Maybe if he had brought you here he would have turned out a different man but he made his choice and it wasn’t the one his brother made.”
“Uncle Henley had some faults but he wasn’t a bad man.”
“Non. He wasn’t. But it’s them faults that will bite a man on the ass if he lets them control his life. And eventually that’s what Henley did. What neither Henley nor Martin knew is that they weren’t just fighting a battle, they were fighting a war.”
“War?!” I was wondering if I needed my hip waders for more than the water.
Recognizing he was losing me the old man shrugged. “Feud then. Call it a feud but it were a war in truth … over the truth. The Edgar kin were always jealous that they never got any of the treasure. They were all illegitimate. Why the Old Man never gave me a coin to start my life out. I was from the wrong side of the blanket.” He snorted. “It stuck in the Old Man’s craw that I never wanted the damn stuff. If he wouldn’t claim me I wasn’t going to claim him.” He gave me a wicked look. “But I sure had fun confusing those that looked for it.”
There was another click. “You tricked Uncle Henley and Martin. You lied to Aunt Sylvee.”
He made a face of disgust. “I admit to having fun with Martin, he was easily led, but Henley made his mistakes on his own and by listening to his Momma. And I never lied to Sylvee, not even when it would have been better for her if I had.”
Taking another guess, and getting it wrong, I said, “You kept the books from Martin that Sylvee wanted him to have.”
“Non. That was Yula Mae. She feared should Martin ever find what he was looking for that he’d abandon her. And who knows, perhaps she was right. She didn’t know what Martin was looking for or what Sylvee had found. In her mind, my poor simple sister’s mind, that if Sylvee thought it was bad enough to hide that was good enough for her. And thus it would stay hid.”
“Yula Mae didn’t know about the treasure?”
“Those were the rules. Females were kept from the truth though most knew a bit of the story here and there. Granny Edgar certainly knew of it, was told by her mother on her death bed. Or so she told me when she was having fun scaring me to pieces and making fun of me that I’d never be given any since I was a bastard.”
“So was your brother.” Then I had a curious thought. “Who was your brother’s father?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Granny Edgar said it didn’t matter since he’d been born with the Edgar mark upon him. A birthmark that all true Edgar men were born with. Truth is I think Granny Edgar poisoned the man just like she poisoned her own husband when she caught him coming home from New Orleans with a case of something he picked up at a brothel.”
“Now you’re yanking my chain. Why would she tell you this?”
“’Cause she was a mean, nasty old woman. Jealous of what she didn’t get when her brothers did. It’s why she turned from the church and lived the way she did.”
He got up and started pulling his pirogue down to the water.
“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just say all this and then stop.”
“Sure I can,” he laughed. “As for where I’m going? God alone knows. But now my debt to Matthieu is paid, I’m done here. Gonna go find me a little hammock and set up until the Lord calls me Home. Don’t you come looking for me either. You won’t find me.”
He started poling away and I opened the packet he’d given me. “Wait! This is all in French! How I’m supposed to read this?!”
“Not my problem. You’ll either figure it out or you won’t,” he called back, cackling as he disappeared ever deeper into the swamp.
I won’t record all of the insanity the old man told me about. Suffice it to say that Uncle Henley’s crazy over the treasure paled in comparison to much that had gone on in the family over the years and that the Thibodaux line is perhaps the sanest of the three ... Thibodaux, Frechette, and Levert. He also pointed out that the Frechette and Levert lines had “intermingled” with the Edgar family over the generations.
“Your father did a good thing by moving you away though it broke Matthieu’s heart. Your father was the first man of the family to turn his nose up to the treasure, valuing family over riches. Matthieu respected that. He didn’t like it, but he did respect it. Henley saw it and wanted that respect for himself so followed his brother to Florida and for a time all was well. Until that time your family came to visit, and Mason could stand it no longer and thought to use you to get what he thought belonged to him.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember it. Still, I’m not convinced that my grandfather would have murdered his own brother and not owned up to it.”
“’Cause he didn’t do no such thing. You killed Mason.”
My mouth fell open. “The hell you say. I was a baby!”
“You were old enough and something happened that you were in the center of. When you was took Matthieu went calling for help to find you. He’d done enough good turns for plenty of swamp folks that quite a few turned up. Swamp is no place for a baby. Turned out is wasn’t a good place for Mason. I was there when you was found. You was covered in blood and not moving and we all feared you dead. Turns out you’d just cried yourself to an exhausted sleep. When Old Mags picked you up you were lying on a knife. Big butcher knife it was. We all looked around and that’s when we found Mason with a deep ol’ slice up his arm. He’d tried to stop the bleeding by tying off the arm, but it must have been a gusher no one could stop.”
“I was just a baby,” I repeated. “No way I fought a grown man.”
“Wellll, mayhap it was just an accident. Mason coulda tripped or been using his own blood to chum the water for gators. However it happened, it was still decided to hush it up. Old Mags put the idea in Matthieu’s head that if word got out could be they’d take you away. He wanted none of that so … he didn’t do the deed, wouldn’t lie and say he did, but he let the gossip be what it was rather than risk your loss. ‘Course your father kept you as much away as he could from then on. Only came for short visits and blamed the business and you children being in school when the truth was he feared for your lives. He knew of the treasure you see but didn’t value it the way most men would. His family was his treasure and one he refused to risk.”
And didn’t that give me a lot to think about. I’d lost my family too soon and the one I miss the most is Robbie to this day. But perhaps I hadn’t been giving my father enough credit. If the old man’s story was true, certainly it gave me insight to my father I’d never had. And then I had a foolish thought.
“I guess Uncle Henley was trying to protect me too.”
The old man chortled cynically. “Like hell he was. Henley just couldn’t be bothered once he got the treasure fever. Maybe if he had brought you here he would have turned out a different man but he made his choice and it wasn’t the one his brother made.”
“Uncle Henley had some faults but he wasn’t a bad man.”
“Non. He wasn’t. But it’s them faults that will bite a man on the ass if he lets them control his life. And eventually that’s what Henley did. What neither Henley nor Martin knew is that they weren’t just fighting a battle, they were fighting a war.”
“War?!” I was wondering if I needed my hip waders for more than the water.
Recognizing he was losing me the old man shrugged. “Feud then. Call it a feud but it were a war in truth … over the truth. The Edgar kin were always jealous that they never got any of the treasure. They were all illegitimate. Why the Old Man never gave me a coin to start my life out. I was from the wrong side of the blanket.” He snorted. “It stuck in the Old Man’s craw that I never wanted the damn stuff. If he wouldn’t claim me I wasn’t going to claim him.” He gave me a wicked look. “But I sure had fun confusing those that looked for it.”
There was another click. “You tricked Uncle Henley and Martin. You lied to Aunt Sylvee.”
He made a face of disgust. “I admit to having fun with Martin, he was easily led, but Henley made his mistakes on his own and by listening to his Momma. And I never lied to Sylvee, not even when it would have been better for her if I had.”
Taking another guess, and getting it wrong, I said, “You kept the books from Martin that Sylvee wanted him to have.”
“Non. That was Yula Mae. She feared should Martin ever find what he was looking for that he’d abandon her. And who knows, perhaps she was right. She didn’t know what Martin was looking for or what Sylvee had found. In her mind, my poor simple sister’s mind, that if Sylvee thought it was bad enough to hide that was good enough for her. And thus it would stay hid.”
“Yula Mae didn’t know about the treasure?”
“Those were the rules. Females were kept from the truth though most knew a bit of the story here and there. Granny Edgar certainly knew of it, was told by her mother on her death bed. Or so she told me when she was having fun scaring me to pieces and making fun of me that I’d never be given any since I was a bastard.”
“So was your brother.” Then I had a curious thought. “Who was your brother’s father?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Granny Edgar said it didn’t matter since he’d been born with the Edgar mark upon him. A birthmark that all true Edgar men were born with. Truth is I think Granny Edgar poisoned the man just like she poisoned her own husband when she caught him coming home from New Orleans with a case of something he picked up at a brothel.”
“Now you’re yanking my chain. Why would she tell you this?”
“’Cause she was a mean, nasty old woman. Jealous of what she didn’t get when her brothers did. It’s why she turned from the church and lived the way she did.”
He got up and started pulling his pirogue down to the water.
“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just say all this and then stop.”
“Sure I can,” he laughed. “As for where I’m going? God alone knows. But now my debt to Matthieu is paid, I’m done here. Gonna go find me a little hammock and set up until the Lord calls me Home. Don’t you come looking for me either. You won’t find me.”
He started poling away and I opened the packet he’d given me. “Wait! This is all in French! How I’m supposed to read this?!”
“Not my problem. You’ll either figure it out or you won’t,” he called back, cackling as he disappeared ever deeper into the swamp.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you, glad I checked back in .
.
Mr Bill
Veteran Member
More like a bramble bush