by Wild Jinx
“They dint come here threatenin’ or nothin’. Still, I doan trust that LeDeux lawyer.”
“They didn’t tell Etienne, did they?”
“No. ’Course not.”
Her grandfather was clearly shaken, and stress was the last thing he needed with his blood pressure. Therefore, she assured him that everything would work out, even though she had no clear idea how.
They spoke some more, then she hung up, stunned.
“Is everything all right?” Grace came up to her and put a hand on her arm.
She was shell-shocked, but she managed to say, “I need to take a walk . . . to think a little. Make my excuses, please.”
Though concerned, Grace nodded. Celine deliberately avoided eye contact with John.
She walked along the bayou for about ten minutes, unable to get her thoughts together. How am I going to be able to tell John? Will he care? Of course he’ll care. He’s going to kill me.
Ten minutes later, she was sitting on a stretch of grass near the stream when John showed up. She should have known that he would follow her.
“You best be careful, chère. There might be snakes or red ants around.”
“I checked.”
He sank down beside her. “What’s wrong? Is there a problem at home?”
“You could say that.”
“Your son?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What’s he done?”
“It’s not what he’s done. It’s what I’ve done.”
“Huh?”
“You are going to be so angry.”
“Me? Why should I be angry?”
“John, there’s no easy way to say this. You have a son.”
He recoiled as if she’d punched him in the chin. “Pass that by me again.”
“Etienne is your son.”
His eyes went huge. “Impossible! I couldn’t be the father of your four-year-old kid.”
“I lied. He’s five.”
“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” He stood abruptly, combed his fingers through his hair, and turned to study the stream. A blue heron swooped down and caught a fish, but John probably didn’t even notice. Spinning on his heels, he inquired in an icy voice, “I have a five-year- old son?”
She nodded.
“And you chose not to tell me?”
She nodded again.
“You bitch!” He stormed off in the other direction, farther away from the cabin.
She just sat there, miserable and confused about what to do next. She didn’t blame him for his fury.
A short time later, he returned, still obviously angry, but he sat down beside her again. “I’ll want DNA tests.”
She bristled.
“I have to be sure.”
“Go to hell, John.” She swiped at the tears brimming over. The stress of this past hour was finally getting to her.
John didn’t look the least bit sympathetic.
“Why tell me now? What did your grandfather say on the phone?”
“Your aunt and your brother Luc paid a visit today.”
“What? They know? How long have they known?”
“When your aunt was here the other day, she rooted through my purse for an aspirin and saw a picture of Etienne. She knew immediately . . . or strongly suspected . . . that he was yours.”
“He . . . he looks that much like me?” He gulped, visibly touched, fighting all the roiling emotions inside him.
“Yes, and apparently his mischief gene was inherited from you. A hell-raiser in the making.”
He didn’t smile. “Well, this explains a lot.”
“Like what?’
“Your skittishness around me. Your secretiveness. And, holy crawfish, that must be why Tante Lulu wouldn’t talk to me before she left. She must have thought I knew I had a child and just abandoned it. Tells you a lot about her opinion of my character.”
“I don’t think she ever really believed that.” She put a hand on his arm in assurance.
He shoved her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
She told him then why she had kept the secret, trying to explain her grandfather’s feelings toward the LeDeuxs.
John looked at her with disgust.
It sounded lame even to her own ears. There was no way she could lay the blame at her grandfather’s feet. If anyone was to blame, it was she.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe someday if Etienne wanted or needed . . . I just don’t know.”
“Do you have any idea how immoral that is?”
“I wasn’t sure if you would be interested.”
“Bullshit!”
“I was probably wrong not to tell you.”
“Damn right! No probably about it.”
“Your brother has a reputation as a shark lawyer. My grandfather is afraid.”
“He should be afraid. You should be, too.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“My brother isn’t going to do anything I don’t want him to, but I can tell you right now, you’re gonna pay for this outrage, one way or another, whether it turns out Etienne is mine or not.”
“Are you talking about a lawsuit?”
“That and lots more,” he said with ice in his voice.
“Do I need a lawyer?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe . . . probably.”
“This is a shock. I know it is, but Etienne is your child. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“No? You would just lie by omission.” He exhaled whooshily and asked, “Do you have any pictures of him?”
She nodded. “In my wallet, back at the cabin.”
“Go get them.”
She could hardly balk at his domineering orders. As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder.
John was sitting with his elbows braced on spread knees, hands covering his face. The image of abject misery.
The war begins . . .
Heart aching, hours later, John was still transfixed by the pictures, and he still found it hard to believe.
My son, my son, my son kept reverberating through his dulled brain.
His satellite phone had been ringing all night . . . the caller ID identifying them, in turn, as Tante Lulu, Luc, Remy, René, and Charmaine . . . but he’d not answered any of them yet. He knew they meant well, family being everything to them, but this was something he had to work through himself first.
He was a cute kid, and, yeah, Etienne did resemble himself when he was that age. DNA or not, the evidence was staring him in the face.
Do I want to be a father?
Yes.
And no.
He pictured himself teaching Etienne how to bait a hook and cast a rod. Could he swim? If not, he could show him how. Did he like football or baseball or computers? Was he smart? Hell, he didn’t even know if he was in school.
On the other hand, John considered himself too young to bite the dust. He had lots more wild oats to be sown. In fact, he had a date with Eve Estrada when she got back next month from Paris, where she was exhibiting her paintings. Sex and paella were sure to be on the menu. Then, too, he and three buddies were planning to spend Christmas in the Bahamas with Tank’s oldest sister and her friends. Tina owned a beachfront villa, thanks to a very generous ex-husband. Up ’til now, he would have expected to celebrate the holidays in a wild fashion. Maybe he still would.
John felt like he was being pulled in five different directions. He was so confused.
I have a son.
Celine had mentioned something about Etienne wanting a dog the other day. He for damn sure would be getting a dog.
Oh, my God! I have a son.
So many questions.
Everyone else was asleep in the cabin. Grace and Celine in one bedroom. Famosa, Peachey, and Sabato in another. He would sleep down here on the pullout sofa. It was expected to rain later, which would make the tent uncomfortable.
His phone rang again, and this time he picked it u
p, not wanting to awaken anyone.
“Etienne, he is a beautiful boy,” Tante Lulu blurted out.
“Tell me.”
“He’s little, no higher ’n yer thigh, I ’spect. Dark hair like yers and blue eyes like his mommy. He’s missin’ two front teeth right now. He talks a mile a minute. A happy boy.
“He likes pirates and has a collection of ships and pirate figures. He collects Hot Wheels cars, too. And, whoo-boy, he is full of mischief! While we were there, a little neighbor boy came over, and they put a firecracker in the toilet jist ta see what would happen.”
He smiled. “What happened?”
“It made a loud noise, then fizzled.”
“Does he . . . did he mention a father?”
“No. We dint stay long enough fer that. His paw-paw sez he’s been askin’ questions lately. There was some kinda Father Night at his play school.”
He gritted his teeth, angry once again.
“Celine done a good job raisin’ the boy, Tee-John. Ya gotta give her that.”
“That’s about all I’ll give her. I really want to see him, Auntie, but I talked to the boss. Even for this, he won’t allow me to set foot in Houma. Not yet.”
“Well, now, would he allow us, me and Remy, ta bring the boy and his paw-paw there fer a visit?”
He was suddenly hopeful. “I don’t know. Maybe. If we’re careful, he might.”
“Good. You let me know in the mornin’. Now lissen up. We gots lots of stuff ta plan. When do ya wanna get married? I guess ya gotta wait ’til this trial thing is over, but—”
His system could take only so many shocks in one day. He exploded, “There is not going to be a frickin’ wedding.”
“But you and Celine have a chile. An’, watch yer mouth, boy, there ain’t no need fer swearin’.”
Boy? I have a son, and she’s calling me “boy.” “No wedding!”
“Ya want time ta court her some, I s’pose.”
No, I want time to beat her head in. “No wedding, no courting, no nothing. Right now the last thing I want is Celine Arseneaux for a bride.”
“I gave Etienne a St. Jude statue t’day,” she said, as if he hadn’t even spoken. Then she went on to tell him lots of other stuff . . . how the house looked, what was in his son’s bedroom, what was in Celine’s bedroom, the ailments James suffered. Her usual prattle, bless her heart. She even told him what kind of toilet paper she saw in the bathroom . . . some kind of wasteful, overly expensive product. Who knew there was expensive toilet paper? Designer toilet paper? he joked to himself. Damn! My brain is melting here.
“Tell Luc I’ll be calling him first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“I need to know my legal rights.”
“Legal-smegal. Yer the father. What’s ta know?”
“I’m considerin’ a lawsuit.”
“Fer custody?”
“Maybe. All I know is, she’s gonna pay.”
Just before hanging up, she said, “Tee-John, I was angry at first, too, but ya gotta accept that God works in his own ways. If this is the way he wants ya ta become a daddy, thass the way it has ta be.”
“There’s an old military adage, Tante Lulu. ‘Pray to God but pass the ammunition.’”
“Whass that mean?”
“It means that Celine better duck. The next round is mine.”
You could call it pirate humor . . .
The next morning was a zoo, which was a good thing for Celine. It kept her mind occupied with something other than the crisis in her personal life.
There were red flags scattered all over an area the size of a city block to indicate places where the metal detector had sensed something. And they were still scanning. No digging yet.
Grace had taken over the photography and audio recording while Celine was keying in site info to a high-tech laptop computer. Suddenly, she began to see a pattern. “Oh, good heavens! Adam!” she screamed. “Come quick!”
Adam was soon leaning over her shoulder.
“Look at this. Could it be as simple as a skull and crossbones? Did that wily old pirate actually bury his gold in such a goofball way?”
“It would certainly be a joke on all the people who’ve been searching for it, like, forever.”
They grinned at each other, then did a high five.
Adam went over to tell the others about her discovery.
“It’s at least worth a try,” Caleb said. “If it turns out to be true, it will save us days of wasted digging.”
“See, I told you that Grace and I were good luck,” Angel bragged. “Angel and Grace, the holy charms.”
Grace made a scoffing sound, but she smiled at Angel.
John was the only one who didn’t come over to congratulate her. He was avoiding her like the bloody plague. Which was fine with her. She was done apologizing. And she’d be damned if she would buckle under his threats.
It took them more than three hours to continue running the metal detector and the magnetometers on land and underwater. It appeared that the four tips of the X, or crossbones, were going to be under the bayou stream. Some distance upstream from their original work site, the water had separated into sort of a wide island, which may or may not have been underwater in Lafitte’s day. In any case, the X with its circle or skull around the center lay on land, but the tips underwater. There were days’, maybe even weeks’, worth of work ahead of them, unearthing the loot.
They broke for lunch and a lengthy planning session. Adam was on the phone constantly with Ronnie, who’d asked them, as a courtesy, to wait ’til she and Jake arrived later that day before doing any more digging. Ronnie, as owner of Jinx, Inc., wanted to share in the excitement, which Celine could understand. They were leaving their little girl behind with the grandfather.
She and Grace had set out cold sandwiches and a giant thermos of sweet tea when John’s satellite phone rang. All of the phones had been ringing throughout last evening and this morning.
John went off to the side to take his call. Celine noticed his face go white, and his body stiffened. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Okay. Of course. I know. I’ll tell her.”
He replaced his phone in the pouch attached to his belt. Then he looked over, pointed a finger at her, and said, “You. Follow me.” He turned and walked along the pathway toward the cabin.
“Huh?” She glanced behind her, then all around.
Everyone was watching, mostly with amusement.
“Was he talking to me?” she asked Grace.
“I think so.” Grace laughed.
“The nerve of the bum! Does he actually think he can order me around like that?”
“Apparently so. That’s called redneck charm.” Adam loved when John did something stupid.
But then, John turned, walking backward, and said in a steely voice, “Get your butt in gear and follow me, Arseneaux, or you’ll be riding my shoulder, ass high, like a sack of wheat.”
“Does he talk to her like that all the time?” Angel asked Caleb.
“Only when he wants to get laid,” Caleb joked.
“I think he’s in love,” Grace opined.
“I think you’re all nuts,” Angel remarked.
But all the comments just washed over Celine, who was totally confused. But then she realized that this must have something to do with Etienne. So, with red face, she ran to catch up. But she gave him the finger to his back, just to get the last word in, so to speak.
Laughter echoed behind her.
From the mouths of babes . . .
John was more excited than he’d ever been in all his life, even more than the adrenaline rush before a huge drug bust.
On the other hand, he was more frightened than he’d ever been, even more than the time Tante Lulu got knocked out by a flying squirrel. Everyone had thought she was dead.
And Celine wasn’t making things any better.
“Will you stop the damn pacing?” he snarled.
“Oh, now you’re going to talk to me? Shove it
!”
“Whoa! I get first dibs on anger. I’m the injured party here.”
“Please! You can only play victim so long before you start to sound like a whiner. You remind me of your son when he’s sulking.”
“Lady, you are so close to—” His words halted on hearing a plane engine approaching.
Now Celine was the one who looked terrified. She was about to introduce her son to his father for the first time. Under normal circumstances, he would have felt sorry for her, but he was still too fuming mad to be sympathetic.
Tante Lulu had called him an hour ago to say Remy was bringing her and James Arseneaux and Etienne for a visit . . . just for the afternoon. She’d known how much he wanted to meet the boy in person and might not be able to leave this remote region for days, or weeks. Luc would be coming, too, at his request. He needed legal advice.
Remy landed the hydroplane neatly with a splash in front of the cabin. John sat on the steps, waiting. Normally, he would go down and help the passengers alight, but he needed these extra few minutes to observe his son before talking to him.
Remy was helping James Arseneaux and then Tante Lulu get onto dry land. Celine waded into the edge of the stream and held out her arms for the boy.
His heart skipped a beat, then thundered against his chest walls. He could barely breathe.
Damn, he was cute. His dark hair was going every which way. He wore socks with athletic shoes that lit up with each bouncing step, red shorts, and a black Pirates of the Caribbean T-shirt. He was chattering like a magpie to his mother, mostly about the plane ride and how Remy had let him sit on his lap one time and steer the plane. Then, squirming out of his mother’s arms, he began imitating an airplane by running around in figure eights, arms outspread, making a whirring sound. He stopped suddenly to lean over and examine a doodlebug, fascinated at the way it rolled into a ball when touched. Then he swirled around to look at the cabin. That’s when he noticed him.
Everyone was watching him watch his son. He frowned at Remy as his brother guided Tante Lulu and James inside the cabin, all of them carrying bags filled with groceries. Luc soon followed, nodding to him with the silent message that they would talk later.
Celine remained, plopping down to the grass to sit cross-legged. She looked so frickin’ scared. What? Did she think he was going to blurt out his paternity? Or was it his lawyer brother that had her biting her bottom lip?
