Sylvie nodded her agreement. “How anything so beautiful can be so deadly is beyond me.”
The water hyacinths were beautiful…a floating island of fragile lavender blossoms and bright green leaves, their roots dangling invisibly below. How deceptive! It had all started back in 1884 during the International Cotton Exposition of New Orleans. At the Japanese exhibit, visitors were each given a sample of the flowering aquatic plant native to Latin America. What they didn’t realize was the remarkable reproductive abilities it would have, with one single plant producing 65,000 plants in a single season. Throughout Louisiana it had posed a problem ever since: clogging waterways, choking vegetation, cutting off sunlight necessary to aquatic life.
“If I had the time, I’d pull the whole raft of flowers out of the water and build the biggest bonfire this side of hell,” Luc proclaimed fiercely.
“And they’d all come back.” Sylvie smiled. “Remember the time the Army Corps of Engineers tried to dynamite them out of existence, and they came back in more abundance?”
“A sugar planter near us used a flamethrower last summer, and the year before, a machine gun,” Tee-John piped in. “Man, did I learn some good swear words this year when they all came back!”
Luc and Sylvie both shook their heads at the boy’s enthusiasm over cursing.
“I think the water hyacinths are a little bit like women,” Luc teased as they set the pirogue back in the water. “Pretty and dainty on the outside and man-eaters on the inside, ready to suck the blood out of any male who comes within kissing distance.” The whole time he talked, he was watching Sylvie’s heart-shaped behind as she bent over in his nylon jogging shorts to pick up her fallen cap.
“How come you’re always lookin’ at Sylvie’s ass?” Tee-John asked with a mischievous grin.
Sylvie’s body shot ramrod straight, and she sliced Luc with a glare.
He shrugged. “There are some things a man just can’t help.”
“Hah!” she said.
“Hah!” Tee-John said at the same time. “I’d rather look at a bug.”
Everyone laughed at that.
“And you two are always touchin’ each other,” Tee-John complained, and made a youthful gesture of disgust by sticking two fingers in his open mouth to denote vomiting.
“We are not,” Sylvie protested, but she was lying. Luc had to admit on his own behalf that he couldn’t stop himself from laying his hands on her every chance he got, even in the most innocent instances. Fingertips brushing her hair under the cap. Resting a palm on her shoulder when he asked a question. A quick caress of her bare arm when he reached for one of the supplies. And Sylvie had reciprocated likewise, much to his great pleasure.
Sylvie—smart lady—decided to change the subject back to their earlier discussion. “Actually, I disagree with your analogy, Luc. If water hyacinths are like women at all, it’s because we’re the stronger sex,” Sylvie argued over her shoulder. They were back in the pirogue and paddling again. “No matter what men do to cut us down, we pop right back up. Hey, water hyacinths aren’t called the survival flower for nothing.”
“Touché,” Luc said with a smart salute to her back.
“Yep, I am woman. Call me survivor.”
“You know, Sylv, the water hyacinth is also called the pain-in-the-ass flower. So, you could say, ‘I am woman. Call me…P.I.T.A.”
“You’re impossible,” she said huffily.
“Yeah, dontcha just love that about me?”
There was an uncomfortable silence then because he’d inadvertently brought up the dreaded L-word. But the moment passed when Tee-John stood expertly in the boat and used his paddle to push a huge water snake out of their path.
At noon, they stopped for lunch.
To Sylvie, the day seemed magical.
Maybe it was the lunch—an ambrosia of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, washed down with barely cool soda pop and topped off with crisp apples, which Luc had sliced into bite-size pieces.
Maybe it was the glorious pirogue ride through what had to be God’s country…a place of such intense colors and smells and beauty that the mind instinctively associated them with some celestial creation.
Maybe it was spending a day with Lucien LeDeux, a man she was coming to love more and more, with each passing moment. And it wasn’t anything he said or did, either. It was just being with him…looking up to see him staring at her with equal wonder…catching him in an easy exchange of smiles with his brother…remembering all that had passed between them the night before.
As much as Sylvie cherished this glorious day with Luc, she was frightened, knowing it would soon come to an end. The love potion would wear off, and Luc would no doubt ride off into the sunset, chalking it all up to a pleasant interlude.
But Sylvie wouldn’t be able to forget so easily.
“Hey, babe, daydreaming about me again?” Luc dropped down to the ground beside her where she was resting on her elbows, legs outstretched, waiting for their trip to resume. He and Tee-John had just finished repacking the boat.
“I was not dreaming about you,” she reiterated once again.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Leaning on one elbow, he grinned down at her.
“Where’s Tee-John?”
“Went downstream a piece to fill the empty soda bottles with fresh springwater.”
“He’s a good kid, Luc.”
“Yeah, he is, despite his smart mouth.”
“Like someone else I know.”
Luc poked her playfully in the ribs.
“He looks just like you, too.”
Luc stiffened oddly at that, then relaxed. “Well, we are brothers.” He said that as if trying to convince her. How strange!
“Wanna make out?” he asked.
“Wh-what?” she choked out. “Is the love potion acting up again? Well, forget it. Your brother will be back any minute.”
“Plenty of time,” he said, and lowered his head till his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers. “I’ve missed you, chère,” he whispered against her mouth.
“How could you miss me when we’ve been together all day?” she murmured, arching her neck for the little nibbling kisses he was placing in perfect alignment along her jaw. Then, she added, “I’ve missed you, too.”
That was all the encouragement Luc needed. He slanted his lips over hers and moved from side to side, making rough growls of appreciation deep in his throat at each movement. When he had their lips aligned to his satisfaction, he kissed her hungrily.
“Do you know how much I enjoy kissing you?” he asked one time when he came up for air.
She knew, because he was showing her with every tender/tough move of his lips and tongue and teeth.
“If that don’t beat all,” a young voice said above them. “Sucking tonsils first chance you get. I hope I never grow up if I’m gonna act so dumb-ass stupid around girls.”
“Go away,” Luc said, even as his lips were still pressed lightly to hers.
“Where?”
“Anywhere!”
“How am I s’posed to learn anything if I don’t watch?”
“Watch?” she squeaked out.
“Watch?” Luc bellowed.
There was the sound of shuffling feet. Finally, Luc gave up, giving her a quick, final kiss before coming to a sitting position. He glared at his brother, who continued to stand next to them, shuffling his feet.
“Watch?” Luc repeated.
“Yeah, I was hopin’ you would get to the oral sex part so I’d finally see what got the Prez in all that hot water.”
“You’re the one who’s gonna be in hot water if you keep talking like that,” Luc warned, getting to his feet.
Tee-John smirked at his brother, proving that he’d been deliberately provoking him. And he added one last salvo. “One of my football buddies, Jake Fortier, says if you hum when you do it, it’s even better. In fact, Jake says—”
Tee-John never got to finish because Luc picked him up by the seat of his jeans and
tossed him in the bayou, head first. When the kid came gushing up out of the water, tossing his hair back in a wet swath, he grinned at Luc. And Luc grinned at him, shaking his head from side to side.
Sylvie almost said, “Like father, like son,” but what she meant was, “Like brother, like brother.” Finally, she settled on, “Two peas from the same pod.”
They both stood staring at her, hands on hips.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luc asked, moving away from his brother, who was shaking wet drops of water on him like a waterlogged dog.
“Yeah, are you insultin’ us?” Tee-John, who came only chest high to Luc, looked up at his brother for confirmation that it was them against her if insults were going to be thrown.
The two half brothers were adorable, mischief-loving mirror images of each other. “Yep, the Mutt and Jeff of rascals,” she decided.
They arrived about three o’clock at the small manmade lake near Cypress Oil. Luc and Tee-John followed her directions diligently, and within three hours, dozens of samples of soil and water had been gathered from the various tributaries leading off the holding pond.
Mostly, they worked at a considerable distance—at least a mile—from the plant grounds, which were heavily posted against trespassers. It would be even more damning if the contaminants were concentrated at that distance, especially since these tributaries led to residential areas. Even without performing complicated chemical tests in a lab that would break down the components in the samples, Sylvie knew by sight and smell alone that they had clear evidence against Cypress Oil.
“How could the oil company be so careless?” she asked Luc.
He was pressing the small of his back to get out the kinks after being in a bent-over position for so long. “They’ve been getting away with it forever, so they probably consider themselves invincible. Hell, in many ways they are. A little money tossed here and there, and evidence disappears, court decisions defy logic, government officials look the other way.”
“Then what’s the use?”
“If you give up, you might as well lie down and die. There’s always hope, sweetheart. When all else fails, there’s hope.”
“We’re Cajuns,” Tee-John interjected with pride. “We never give up.”
She and Luc exchanged a smile.
Then Luc tousled his brother’s hair. “You betcha, bud. Regular Ragin’ Cajuns, that’s what we are.”
Sylvie clucked her tongue at the two of them. “Should we start back now? Surely, we have enough samples.”
“Just a few more.” Luc shifted uneasily.
The fine hairs stood out on the back of her neck. “What?”
“I’m going up closer. We need samples from the holding pond itself.”
“Luc! It’s too dangerous for us to go any closer.”
“We won’t be going. I’ll be going alone.”
“No!” she and Tee-John said at the same time.
“Yes. You two stay here. I’ll only be gone a short while…an hour at most.”
“Oh, Luc, I don’t like this at all.”
“Tee-John, I want you to take care of Sylvie while I’m gone.”
The boy’s chest puffed out at the responsibility.
“Sylv, come over here and show me which vials and baggies to take and how to label them.” When she approached the pirogue, he was already pulling items out and putting them in a backpack. “I’m leaving the boat here with you and Tee-John,” he said in an undertone. “No, don’t argue with me. I can hide myself better if I travel by foot. If something should happen to me—stop looking like that, chère, I’ll be careful—you and Tee-John go back to the cabin and call Remy. He’ll pick you up and take you to safety.”
“No! I won’t stay here, and I won’t leave without you.”
“You must, Sylvie. These samples are too important. Besides, you’ve got to keep Tee-John safe. He’ll run off half-cocked.”
She threw herself into Luc’s arms then. Hugging him tightly with her face buried in his neck, she cried, “Be careful. Come back.”
He hugged her tightly in return…so tightly she could barely breathe. Then he kissed her fiercely before setting her at arm’s length. “You and I need to talk when I get back.”
She nodded.
Why did she keep thinking if you come back?
Forty-five minutes later, Sylvie and Tee-John were jolted by the sound of gunfire in the distance. Lifting the binoculars to her eyes, she gasped and grabbed for Tee-John’s hand.
In less than a half hour, Luc’s limp body was being carried away by two heavily armed security officers. A third officer was stomping on glass vials strewn about the ground.
Was Luc dead or alive?
“Well, we’re finally ‘home,’” Sylvie said with a sigh, as the cabin came into sight. She squeezed Tee-John’s shoulder.
“We gotta call Remy, right off,” Tee-John said.
She nodded as she helped the boy pull the pirogue up and onto the bank. It wouldn’t be used again if Remy came soon with the hydroplane.
It was two A.M., and the cabin loomed dark before them. It had taken the three of them five hours, not including lunch, to reach Cypress Oil, but the harrowing trip back, laden with worry about Luc, had taken seven hours with only her and Tee-John at the paddles.
She had to give Tee-John credit. Once he’d realized the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t balk or cry, as she’d expected a kid his age to do. Instead, he’d helped her quickly gather up their supplies, turn the pirogue around, and get them on their way before the security officers began to wonder how Luc had gotten there, and whether he had been alone. The boy’s sense of direction and memory of the route had been invaluable.
Her sense of relief vanished as she noticed the large, lidded basket sitting on the porch floor. Even more ominous than the fact that someone had been there was the hissing sound coming from the basket.
“Stay back,” Tee-John warned. While she held the flashlight, he used a boat paddle to tip over the lid.
Sylvie’s heart jumped. “Oh, my God!”
The basket was filled with a dozen writhing, hissing snakes.
“Don’t worry. They’re just garden snakes,” Tee-John informed her, expertly flipping the lid back on and taking the basket to the side yard, where he released the snakes into the woods.
She still had a hand over her chest when he returned. It would take a while for her heartbeat to return to normal.
Tee-John held out a folded piece of paper to her. “This was in the bottom of the basket…addressed to you,” he explained.
Sylvie unfolded the stiff parchment, which indeed had “Sylvie Fontaine” scribbled on the front in red ink. Or was it blood? Oh, really, Sylvie! Don’t get hysterical now.
The note read:
Eye of the newt,
Heart of the snake.
Meddle with voodoo,
A corpse you will make.
“What a bunch of silliness!” she said, making a tsk-ing sound with her tongue for Tee-John’s benefit. She couldn’t show him how terrified she was.
“You been meddlin’ with voodoo?” he asked, obviously impressed with her daring.
“No, it’s a misunderstanding,” she lied. Tucking the note inside her slacks pocket, she quickly opened the door and flicked on the lights. While she checked on Samson and Delilah, Tee-John said, “I better examine the room for any dangerous objects, like snakes or bombs.”
“Bombs?” She was practically hyperventilating.
He shrugged. “Can’t be too careful. That’s what Luc says all the time.”
She took the cell phone from its hiding place in a loose brick of the fireplace’s inner chimney and proceeded to dial Remy’s number. Meanwhile, Tee-John began the work of closing down the cabin in anticipation of their departure. While the phone was ringing, she watched Tee-John roll up the carpet, lay down the straw matting, and start to work on the perishable food items in the fridge. It was amazing how like Luc he was…a regular neat
freak, from the way he stacked all the items to be taken with them in tidy bundles, to the way in which he folded the dish towels and bed linens. It was especially amazing for a kid his age…to whom neatness should be anathema.
“Hello,” Remy said groggily. He must have been asleep.
“Remy, this is Sylvie Fontaine. You’ve got to come quick and pick up me and Tee-John,” she said all in a rush.
“Tee-John? He’s there with you?” Remy’s voice sounded worried.
“Yes. I’ll explain later. When can you get here?”
“Two hours?”
“That’s fine. Hurry.”
“Uh…you know what I told you about my phone…” he began.
Sylvie knew he was referring to the fact it was probably bugged. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, can I assume this is an emergency?”
“Absolutely,” she said, and her voice cracked.
“Let me talk to Luc.” Remy no doubt sensed her desperation.
“Not now,” she said firmly.
A heavy silence followed in which Remy digested her words.
Then she couldn’t stop herself from panicking. “Oh, please, Remy, just come right away.”
Two hours later, they were in the hydroplane flying away from Luc’s bayou and a cabin that would hold memories for her forever.
“Luc has been shot,” Remy informed them. “When you said he wasn’t there, I made a few calls.”
“Oh, my God!” she cried.
“If my Dad did this, I’m gonna kill ’im,” Tee-John proclaimed angrily.
“Tee-John!” she and Remy both exclaimed with shock.
Then Remy elaborated. “Luc was only hit in the shoulder. He’s fine, physically.”
“But?” Sylvie prodded, sensing there was more.
Remy took a deep breath, then gave them the bad news. “He’s in jail.”
“For what?” Sylvie asked indignantly, though she had a suspicion.
“A whole litany of offenses, including trespassing…”
That was the one Sylvie would have guessed.
“…and kidnapping…”
“Oh, really! Are they still under that misconception? Did you tell them that Tee-John is with us…oh, I can see why that might be further incriminating evidence. Well, once we explain, they’ll understand.”