Authors: Laydin Michaels
She lifted the ramekins and each plate now held a perfect little
castle of golden deliciousness. Bertie scooped a generous amount of sauce on
each and handed one to Griffith.
“Now, it won’t be good unless you burn your mouth. Go on and take
a bite.”
The incredible taste and velvety texture of the pudding was
unlike anything Griffith had ever eaten. It wrapped around her tongue and sent
waves of happiness through her.
Amazing
.
The sauce was fantastic, just the right accent for the mélange of custard,
bread, butter, and bourbon soaked raisins. She could die happy now. There was
no way that dish could be topped. She had hands down had the best dessert of
her lifetime.
Adi leaned on the counter next to her, enjoying her own pudding.
Griffith watched the play of the muscles in her arm as she scooped a fresh
spoon of heaven.
“How is it that you keep so fit with all this good food around?
If I worked here I’d have a hard time not indulging.”
“I’ve pretty much grown up here in this kitchen, so I guess I
just adapted to the menu. I like walking too. When I get a break I usually walk
down to City Park and walk the trails. Sometimes I take a canoe out on the
Teche too. That probably helps.”
“Canoeing? Seriously? I haven’t been in a canoe since Girl
Scouts.”
Adi hesitated, then looked directly into Griff’s eyes. Griffith
felt a jolt of energy, not knowing what Adi was looking for, but hoping she saw
it in her.
“You’re welcome to come along. If you haven’t ever been out on
the bayou, it’s pretty awesome. Give you a feel for what make this place special.”
Griffith knew instinctively the value of the invitation. This was
something Adi cherished, and she wanted to share it with her.
She wants me to know her. It’s
only a matter of time until she opens up to me. If I can just be honest with
myself and Adi, we’ll be fine
.
“I’d like that. When would we be able to go? What’s your
schedule?”
“I suppose we could go tomorrow. We’re closed, so we can take as
long as we like. I just have to run a few errands in the morning.”
“That would be great. Thank you. Where and when should I plan to
meet you?”
“Let’s say ten thirty. We can meet up here and drive down to
Jeanerette.”
“Perfect. I’m looking forward to seeing the bayou. I’ve seen
pictures, and it looks beautiful.”
Keep
it casual, McNaulty. Don’t lose this chance.
“Just wait until you see it up close. Be sure and bring a
long-sleeved shirt and pants. The sun can be fierce, not to mention the
mosquitoes. Oh, and sunscreen. I’ll take care of provisions.”
Griffith was excited about the prospect of spending the day with
Adi.
She’s starting to
trust me. I’ve just got to make sure that trust isn’t misplaced.
“Great. I really appreciate you giving me the tour.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Okay, on that note, I’m going to call it a night.”
“What, you aren’t going to help with the dishes?” Bertie said.
“Umm…”
“Aw, I’m just pulling your leg. It’s Adi’s turn to help Jose. You
and me, we can just slip on out.” She grabbed Griffith’s hand and led her out
the back door to the parking lot.
“Which rattle trap is yours?”
“I don’t think you can see it from here. I parked on the other
side of Adi’s truck.”
“Well. All right then. I’m in that Impala, there, so I’ll say
good night.”
“Good night, Bertie. Be careful getting home.”
“You too. Oh, before you go, I just want to say you sure have a good
way about you. I was all kinds of worried about how Dink was going to react
having a stranger in her business, but you calm her down. I’ve seen more smiles
on that girl today than I have in a month of Sundays. Be sure you don’t mess
that up, now. You go spooking her with too many questions and she’s going pull
herself all in like a big old turtle. Don’t you let that happen, you hear?”
“I hear you. I’ll be careful.”
“Good, see that you are.”
“Night, Bertie.”
“Good night.”
Fool.
What made me go and invite her canoeing? She’s a reporter, for heaven’s sake.
Idiot.
Adi punched the seat next to her in frustration.
I’m never going to be a normal
person. I’ll always be tied to J.B. He killed me long ago and I’m still just
figuring that out.
She’d helped Jose close up and headed to her car
about an hour after Bertie and Griffith left. She’d had nothing but regret over
her casual invitation to Griff. The knot in her belly was tighter than a
Baptist’s purse at happy hour.
I
need to call her and tell her I’m sick or something. I can’t do this.
She kicked herself, realizing the only thing she knew about contacting Griffith
was the hotel she was staying in.
Should I
just drive over there and start knocking on doors? No, that’s crazy. I just
have to suck it up and get through tomorrow. I’ll be okay. I just need to
forget about who she is and enjoy being on the bayou. If I just have fun, I can
keep her questions away.
The thought of being on the bayou with
Griffith was pretty appealing, all in all. She liked her, enjoyed spending time
with her. Heck, when their hands had touched tonight, it was like she’d put her
hand on a live wire. The electric feeling that washed through her had been all
she thought about until now.
I’d
like to touch more of her.
Knowing Griffith might feel the same way
was distracting. That’s how the invitation had slipped out. She kept imagining
what it would be like to be floating on the quiet waters with Griffith in the
boat ahead of her. She’d be able to watch the wind play across Griff’s tangle
of soft golden curls, the subtle play of muscles in her arms and back as she
rowed.
I’ll be
able to imagine all sorts of things. But it’s not my imagination that she’s a
danger to me. She could destroy me with the slip of a pen. And the fantasies I
create in my mind around her could destroy me in this community if I ever acted
on them. I have to protect myself, my life. I have to do whatever it takes to
stay hidden.
She tried to shake off her fear and relax about the canoe trip,
but it was harder than she thought. Bertie was asleep in her chair when she got
home, but the creak of the door hinge had her sitting up and looking around.
“Hey, Dinky. How you doing?”
“Aw, Bertie. I don’t know how I’m doing. I’m getting myself in
all kinds of trouble with my big mouth.”
“Honey, you got a nice mouth. Not too big, not too small. Just
right, in fact. What’s worrying at you? You look like a dog circling a treed
raccoon. Set on down there and tell me what’s the matter,” Bertie said.
“It’s Griffith. Why’d I go and invite her to spend the day with
me tomorrow? What was I thinking?”
“Seems to me you were thinking of having a nice time with a
beautiful woman. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Everything’s wrong with that. I can’t be spending hours and
hours with her. You know that. You know what made me who I am, Bertie. You know
she can’t be getting into all of that.”
“Shucks, girl. You hold on to that secret any harder and that
coal’s gonna turn to a diamond. I’m telling you. I know you lived hard times,
harder than most. Things you seen and done, well, they ain’t good things. But
that’s the past, child. You don’t even know that that man is still alive, much
less looking for you. This gal may be able to help you find out. She’s got
connections and credentials to find out a lot more than you or me. If you can
find it in your heart to trust her, maybe she can find out if he’s out there
looking. Maybe she can help you get free of him for good.”
“But what if she writes about me and J.B.? What if her story
brings all of his hate and anger down on us here at the Pot? I can’t risk that.
I can’t put you and T and Jose in that kind of danger,” Adi said.
“Seems to me, the danger is in not speaking up. If folks knew
about him, they’d find a way to put a stop to him, don’t you think?”
“I don’t. He owned the local police when I was a kid. Probably
owns even more now. He’s a scary man, Bertie.”
“He can’t own all the police. There has to be a way to bring him
to reckoning. Lord knows you’ve suffered long enough hiding here. You deserve a
life. You deserve to be the woman I raised you to be. Free, proud, and happy.”
Adi hunched her shoulders, knowing what Bertie said made sense.
But Bertie didn’t know J.B. She hadn’t watched the cold, calculated look in his
eye when he killed someone. She hadn’t seen the bodies, bloodied and bruised,
that she’d helped him consign to the deep. Most of all, she didn’t know about
Ransom Prejean. Adi’d never been able to bring herself to tell Bertie about the
man whose life she took. She knew that she really hadn’t had a choice, but
she’d never forget his face. Never forget his kids. Bertie had something there
with the thought of using Griffith to find out more about J.B., but she still
thought the risk was far too high. It might cost her the only happiness she could
remember.
Heck, it could
even send me to prison.
“I’ll think on it, Bertie. I promise. I know you want me to shake
free of his hold. Maybe I can figure out some way to make that happen. Maybe
Griffith can help, but for now, I just have to keep holding my secret.”
“Well, I hope you’ll see the sense in what I’m saying and take a
chance. You got to know you can’t live your whole life this way. It’s been
eight years of hiding. Eight years of sticking to the shadows and watching life
go by. I’m not going to be here forever, Adi. I’m seventy-four years old. You
got to figure a way to build a life for yourself. One that fills you up and
pushes all that darkness out,” Bertie said softly, staring into space.
“Don’t talk that way. You aren’t going anywhere for a long time.
I’ll do it, I promise. I just have to do it in my own time, in my own way,” Adi
said.
“See that you do. Best get on to bed now, since you got you a
date tomorrow. Want to be looking well rested for that pretty gal.”
“Bertie. It’s not a date, I mean…we’re just going canoeing.” It
wasn’t surprising that Bertie knew. She always knew things before Adi did.
“Umm-hmm. Tell yourself whatever makes you feel good, but I know
a date when I see one. You and her got date written all over yourselves.”
Adi walked back to her room, wondering how Bertie felt about her
possibly wanting to date women. It didn’t seem to faze her. She shook her head.
Strange things going on these days.
I
don’t even know some things about myself, and everybody around me wants to tell
me who I am
.
There was no way she’d be able to sleep. Too many thoughts
bounced around in her head, crashed into each other, and kept her all keyed up.
By the time she showered and climbed into bed she’d half convinced herself to
tell Griffith everything and ask for her help. She’d played out so many scenes
in her head. How Griffith would be disgusted with the idea of her past and call
the law down on her. How she’d spend the rest of her life in an orange
jumpsuit, watching reruns and eating gruel.
Or that Griffith would be on her side and try to ferret J.B. out
of his liar’s nest and bring him to justice. How she’d stand in front of Adi
and call him out on the things he’d made her do. Her two-page spread of his
inglorious history as a drug dealer open in front of them while they dined on
the finest food Adi could prepare. His angry, red face as he was taken into
police custody.
But none of that would happen. It couldn’t. She didn’t trust the
situation with Griffith enough to give her the truth. She needed the security
of her deception. Even more, she needed to sleep. She finally gave up and
switched on her radio, letting the music carry her out of her head and into
sleep.
She was
skipping up the pier, looking forward to seeing Rachel at the store. Papa had
promised to take her this afternoon, and she knew she should be happy, but
something was sitting on her chest, making her feel like crying instead of
laughing. Something she couldn’t explain, but it got stronger and stronger the
closer she got to the bait shop.
When she
was six feet away, her feet seemed to stick to the worn wooden boards of the
pier. She looked down in panic to see why it felt that way. Her feet were
melted into the wood, her shoes now one with the planks below them. When she
pulled to loosen them, they stretched and elongated, making her legs look like
the giraffe she’d seen on TV. Finally, she pulled hard enough to pop one foot
up. It snapped back into shape without any pain but stuck fast when she set it
back down.
Seized by
terror at what was happening to her, she screamed, cried out for Papa to come
help her. She pleaded with God to send him out of the bait shop. She watched
the door, hoping to see him coming. When it finally began to open, relief
flooded through her. But there was something wrong. The door, which normally
swung freely open, was sticking to the frame, stretching just like her feet.
She saw someone on the other side, pushing with their back to the door.
“Papa,
Papa, help me,” she cried.
The door
opened fully, but the person pushing it stretched out and exploded. A mist of
red wafted toward her, bathing her in its sticky brilliance. Blood. Everywhere
she looked, bright rivers of red blood all cascaded toward her. She felt the
first wave of blood touch her and shrank back from it. But it was no use. It
flowed up her legs, swarming around her knees and into the bottom of her
shorts. Soon she was covered from the waist down in the cloying, sticky mess.
“It’s going
to strangle me. If that blood reaches my neck, it’s going to suffocate me.”
She
screamed again, calling for her papa. He was there, coming through the door. He
put his foot into the cavity that had been the other person’s chest and walked
quickly toward her. He would save her. Now he would save her.