Swamp Happens: The Complete Swamp Bottom Series

by Cora Kenborn

  I cleared my throat and widened my eyes, hoping the move made me look innocent and not like an escaped mental patient. “Oh, hi, honey. Did you pick up your tux?” I tried to make my voice light and airy, but it came out sounding like a prepubescent Peter Brady.

  My forced smile faded as Pope scanned the faces in the room, ignoring my greeting. His squared jaw ticked as his gaze locked on Deputy Doogie. “Is there a reason she’s handcuffed to a chair?”

  The deputy shifted his feet uncomfortably. “It’s protocol, sir. We’re waiting for Sheriff Tucker.”

  If one undeniable fact was known far and wide throughout Terrebonne Parish, it was that no one in their right mind would want to be on the wrong side of the Dubois family—more specifically Babs Dubois. Therefore, Doogie already knew he was up shit’s creek without a paddle. However, once an angry fiancé, who happened to be a six foot three wall of solid muscle and a member of the New Orleans Police Department, was added into the mix, the guy looked as though he were about to piss himself. From the pallor of his skin, I was certain divulging the fact that Pope’s father was a senator would throw the poor unfortunate soul into cardiac arrest.

  Pope’s hands fisted at his sides, and I held my breath as the vein in his forehead started to pulse.

  Addie stepped forward, wringing her hands nervously in front of her huge belly. “I’m sure Sheriff Tucker will be here soon to help sort this out.”

  “If not, I make bars go boom!” The way Babs rummaged around in her giant old lady handbag while mumbling about an imminent jailbreak did little to soothe my nerves.

  The My Little Pony theme song suddenly rang out, causing everyone’s heads to turn in the direction of the music, which also happened to be Deputy Doogie’s pocket. The young cop’s face flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to answer his cell phone.

  “Sheriff Tucker?” An unintelligible voice responded loudly, forcing Doogie to pull the phone away from his ear. “Y-yes, sir, I didn’t—” Once again he was cut off by the sheriff’s muffled response.

  Addie and I shared a look, and I felt a smirk start to pull the corner of my lip.

  Doogie glanced nervously around as he stumbled through trying to explain himself. Seeing that he had an attentive audience, he held up a finger and walked out the front door to finish the call.

  Pope quirked an eyebrow. “Was that what I thought it was?”

  “My Little Pony,” Addie and I answered in unison.

  Before we had a chance to fully absorb the ridiculousness of a grown man using a children’s cartoon theme song as his ringtone, Babs interrupted us with a triumphant shout. She held a bobby pin between her gnarled fingers, her smile so big it caused her teeth to un-suction from her gums with a wet sound. She tongued them back into place with a click before shuffling toward me with the outstretched bobby pin.

  Wary of what my insane grandmother had up her sleeve, I asked, “Babs, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Making borscht, what it look like? No time for this.” Babs groaned as she knelt before me and started to work the hairpin into the lock on the handcuffs.

  “Babs! You can’t do that!” Addie whisper-yelled, her eyes darting between our felonious grandmother and the doorway where Doogie was sure to be coming back through any moment.

  “You worry too much. It cause wrinkle,” Babs croaked, tapping a finger to the side of her eye.

  Addie gasped and lifted a hand to her face, feeling around the skin of her eye. “I don’t have crow’s feet! Those are laugh lines.”

  Babs lifted her free hand and dismissively waved Addie off. “You tell self whatever.”

  Pope cleared his throat as Babs went back to work. “Babs, you do know that I’m a cop and can’t let you break Savannah out of here, right?”

  “You want to lock up bride? I thought you different kind of man.”

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s not what I said. Of course I want Savannah out, but it needs to be legal.”

  Babs tutted, but didn’t stop what she was doing. “Only illegal if paperwork. Trust Babs, Tucker don’t do paperwork. He know better.”

  And now she’s speaking in the third person. Pretty sure this is one of the signs of the apocalypse.

  My eyes pinged between my sister, my fiancé, and my grandmother. I had no idea where to look or what to do. Pope was clearly uncomfortable watching a harebrained escape take place in front of him, Addie was so upset she looked constipated, and Babs was working furiously at the handcuff. “I think Pope might be right. Doogie fingerprinted me. We should probably just wait for Sheriff Tucker to get here to sort this all out.”

  “I’m here,” Tucker’s booming voice was accompanied by the big man’s silhouette in the doorway.

  Addie threw her hands up and collapsed into the plastic chair beside me. “Oh, thank God!”

  “Ekaterina, I’d appreciate it if you’d cease trying to break your granddaughter out of jail right in front of me.”

  Babs shot me a look of exasperation, got to her feet, and backed away. I spotted Doogie sliding back into the room behind Tucker. He looked like a kicked puppy with the way he kept his eyes on the floor and back to the wall. I tried to muster up some sympathy for the young man, but I couldn’t. The little asshole had been overzealous and very well could’ve ruined the biggest day of my life.

  Sheriff Tucker threw his wide-brimmed hat on the desk and ran a hand through the thinning hair that had been hidden beneath. Breathing out a sigh, he leveled a glare at Deputy Dumbass. “I’ll deal with you later.” Turning to the rest of us with a pained expression, he spoke in a softer tone, “I’m sorry, but since Douglas booked her in the system, for now at least, Savvy has to stay put.”

  A shrill, humorless laugh spilled from my lips. “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.”

  Sheriff Tucker’s boots echoed against the linoleum as he approached. The scent of cigar smoke tickled my nostrils when he moved to lean against the front of his wooden desk at my side. “It’s too late to schedule an arraignment on a Friday, Savannah. You’ll have to remain in custody until Monday morning at least.”

  This is some kind of sick joke. Any minute now Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out of a filing cabinet somewhere and tell me I’ve just been Punk’d.

  Except for the moment never came and as I peered up at the solemn expression on Sheriff Tucker’s weathered face, I knew just how fucked I was. Dots spotted my vision, and my ears started ringing as my brain worked to register what I’d been told.

  “I’m getting married in my parents’ backyard in less than twenty-four hours,” I rambled to no one in particular, feeling my grip on reality start to slip.

  “If you let Babs jailbreak, you no have problem,” Babs sing-songed behind me.

  My head spun with the reality of my situation. I was going to be locked up on my wedding day. The worst thing I could imagine happening was happening. Not only was I not going to be able to marry Pope, but I was also embarrassing him on top of it. “Oh my God, what will people think?” I whispered, burying my face in my free hand.

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Since when do you care what people think?”

  I looked up, and my eyes met Pope’s crystal blue ones. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. I was so ashamed and embarrassed, not just for myself but for him too. Pope had an important job and an important family. The news of his betrothed being hauled off to jail the day before the wedding was sure to be front page gossip.

  “Savannah, all I care about is you. That’s it. This is you and me and our future together. I don’t care if our wedding isn’t planned out to the last detail. I don’t care about your rap sheet or what people will say. I just want to marry you. None of the rest of it matters.”

  There was no stopping the tears that spilled down my cheeks at his declaration. Everything he said was true of course. The only thing that mattered was that we loved each other. Everything else was inconsequential. Pope’s thumbs swept the tears aw
ay, and he leaned in, covering my lips with his.

  “I love you,” I whispered between kisses.

  Babs clapped her hands together, effectively bursting our private little bubble. “Eh, wedding overrated. Have in jail. Good story.”

  I blinked up at her expecting to see that mischievous glint in her eye, but her face was serious. “Babs, we can’t get married in the sheriff’s office.”

  She shrugged her frail shoulders. “Why not? You want to marry, do it. You say no matter where, so why not here?”

  I silently stared at her, processing what she’d just said. She wasn’t exactly wrong. When I looked to Pope to tell me I was crazy for even considering it, his eyebrows raised, and he looked at me expectantly. “Why not?” he asked.

  A grin pulled at my lips, and by the time I turned toward my sister’s shaking head, it was a full-blown smile.

  “Savvy, no. Are you serious?” Addie whisper-shouted. She was doing a lot of that. Like she was afraid to raise her voice for fear of getting a ticket.

  “Addie, you have to help me. You’re the only one who can do it. We can do the ceremony here with just family and then postpone the reception for when this mess has all been worked out. It’s too late to cancel the cake, so just bring it here. I want to wear my dress, so I’ll need that too. Why aren’t you writing this down?” A pained look crossed my sister’s face. Of course, she’d have a physical aversion to all things unconventional. “Please, Ads?”

  She sighed and nodded, pulling out her phone and bringing up the notes app. “Okay, tell me what you need. I’ll cross reference with my Dubois wedding manifesto when I get home.”

  70

  Face The Music

  Adelaide

  Between Terrebonne and New Orleans

  Thinking that my near-death experience from Babs’ joy ride from hell was the worst that would happen today was my first mistake. Correction—my first mistake was getting out of bed this morning. My second mistake was letting a woman who rode the double yellow line like a thoroughbred drive my truck. My third mistake was getting in the car with an overly-anxious groom-to-be.

  My soon-to-be brother-in-law.

  A frantic fiancé.

  And the man with an iron foot who’d be the cause of my untimely demise if he didn’t back off it.

  My fingers curled around the “oh shit handle” as I snuck a side-eyed glance at the speedometer. One hundred and ten miles per hour. Huh. I suppose the myth was true. Cops could drive like homicidal maniacs and get away with it.

  Good to know.

  Pope and I were headed back to New Orleans to make whirlwind preparations for my sister’s shotgun wedding tomorrow. No, shotgun wasn’t right. What the hell did people call what they were doing? Cell Block Ceremony? Getting Sacred in the Slammer?

  Check me out, all getting a sense of humor.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  I released my death grip on the overhead handle long enough to see Pope eyeing me curiously. I supposed it was an honest question since he hadn’t seen me smile much since meeting me. “Me? Oh, nothing. Just happy for my sister, that’s all. And you, of course.”

  Seemingly satisfied with that answer, he gave me a curt nod and went back to trying to use his jeep to break the sound barrier.

  Leaning over the console, I stared at the speedometer again and cleared my throat. “I thought cops weren’t supposed to speed?”

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he weaved in and out of traffic. “And I thought I’d be getting married in a church, not a jail cell.”

  There was no comeback for that, so I didn’t even try. Pope needed time to process what had just happened back in Terrebonne, and I needed to decompress after having to break the news to my parents that their youngest daughter was handcuffed to a chair.

  Ah, just like old times.

  Mama and Daddy weren’t the types to embrace technology. In fact, I was pretty sure they still used a dial-up modem, so it shocked me when Mama answered the phone asking what Babs had done now and how much money she needed for bail.

  Damn. Call your parents from jail one time, and they suddenly have caller ID.

  Daddy yelled at Jesus. Mama yelled at Daddy to stop yelling at Jesus. Savannah yelled at me to hang up the phone and stop being a fucking snitch. I yelled at my phone while listening to Mama lose all her religion when she thought she hung up but didn’t.

  I may need therapy with dolls and puppets.

  Of course, Savannah’s jailhouse nuptials would probably take the spotlight off the fact that I was unwed and pregnant. Although they were ecstatic about having a grandson, Daddy wasn’t exactly thrilled to not be walking both of us down the aisle. It didn’t help that every time they brought up the subject, Zep rolled his eyes and threw me under the bus by proposing again right in front of them.

  Rejecting another marriage proposal from the guy who knocked me up was hard. Rejecting another marriage proposal from the guy who knocked me up, while my father glared at me was harder. Rejecting another marriage proposal in front of my father while the evidence of said knocking up did a somersault against my bladder almost did me in.

  Speaking of Zep…

  We were late. Savannah’s roadside detour and subsequent arrest put a kink in my schedule, and I feared my phone right now. While we were in the sheriff’s office, I’d turned it off. Not my most brilliant idea, but I needed all my focus to be on Savannah, with no interruptions. In my defense, I didn’t think we’d be there as long as we were. I meant to call Zep, but time got away from me.

  “You okay?” Pope asked, the corners of his mouth turning down.

  “What’s the penalty for double homicide?”

  “Oh, shit, Addie,” he groaned, sagging against the headrest. “You’re the rational one. It scares me when you start talking like Savannah. Why do you ask?”

  I wrung my fingers and forced a smile. Obviously, it didn’t work because Pope’s face went from worried to horrified as I answered softly, “I think I’m about to find out.”

  Once I turned my phone back on, multiple texts popped up one right after the other. I didn’t have to look to see who they were from. Only two people would serial text me, and one of them was behind bars.

  Pope lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t call him, did you?”

  “Um, I forgot?”

  I tried to keep my face expressionless as Pope watched me scroll through Zep’s texts. The ones that went from concerned to batshit crazy in a span of half an hour.

  Hey, just checking on you. Hope you had fun.

  Not funny, Addie. Text me back.

  Don’t text me back! You’re driving, aren’t you? You’d better not be driving. Call me.

  Why haven’t you called? You’d better be here in five minutes.

  No, not five minutes. Don’t drive like your sister. I prefer you in one piece.

  Addie, you’re two hours late. I’m kind of losing my shit here.

  That’s it. I’m calling hospitals.

  “Everything okay?” Pope asked with a knowing smirk.

  “Just fine.” Darkening the screen, I tossed the phone into my purse and forced a smile. “Don’t you worry about me. We have a wedding to prepare for.”

  71

  Accidental Confessions

  Adelaide

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  I almost laughed out loud as I waddled up the steps toward my front door. Zep and I were so dysfunctional it was almost endearing. I could just imagine him on the other side of the door pacing grooves into the hardwood, his anxiety amped up to about a sixty.

  On a scale from one to ten.

  We both had to change before the baby came. He had to tone down the caveman thing, and I admittedly had to let down that final wall as much as I clung to it for dear life. With him worrying about where I was all the time, and me keeping him in the dark for spite, it was almost like we were some bizarre Body Snatchers role reversal of…

  Holy shit.

  “I
’ve become Roland,” I whispered to no one as I stood in front of my door feeling dizzy. Somehow, I’d turned into my emotionally detached, commitment-phobe ex-husband, and I’d beaten Zep down from a cocky and confident man to a nagging and paranoid housewife.

  As my revelation sank deep into the pit of my stomach, I grabbed the molding around the door for support just as it swung open. Stumbling forward, I glanced up to find a disheveled and very pissed off Zep. His dark hair almost stood straight up as if he’d been pulling on it all night, and his pale blue eyes were a little wild.

  Actually, they were a lot wild.

  “Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be home three hours ago, Addie. It’s nine o’clock. Do you know how worried I’ve—”

  He never finished his sentence. I never let him. With everything that had happened today, I was in no emotional state to have an impromptu psychoanalysis of how the victim had become the asshole from her miserable past. No, I didn’t want to talk. There’s only one thing I wanted.

  Tossing my purse onto the floor, I lifted onto my toes, cupped his cheeks, and cut him off with a kiss so ferocious that he stumbled backward. Once regaining his footing, he took control, threading his hands through my loose hair and kissing me back, alternating between deep caresses and soft licks. By the time we broke apart, I wasn’t sure what the hell we were supposed to be arguing about.

  He closed the door and leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest with a half smirk as he stared at me. “What’s gotten into you?”