To Kiss A Frog

by Elle James

  With only enough breath in his lungs for a frog to survive, his fully formed human lungs burned with the need for oxygen. His vision blurred and he fought against the fuzzy haze preceding the black abyss of unconsciousness.

  Elaine was in the water somewhere nearby, possibly drowning, trapped in her worst nightmare. And who knew how Uncle Joe fared in the collision? The old man meant a lot to Craig. He'd been the balance in Craig's upbringing, the roots to which he'd clung in his youth. Craig couldn't give up; he had to stay awake and find them.

  He pushed through the haze and the darkness, propelling his fully transformed body through the brackish water to the surface. “Elaine! Uncle Joe!”

  His gaze strained against the gloom, and he listened for the slightest sound of splashing.

  “Joe!” A gurgling feminine cry rent the air a few yards to Craig's left. He launched himself in that direction. In the meager light eking its way through the dense canopy overhead, Craig could see ripples disturbing the water's surface. He dove into the middle of the circles, his hand connecting with hair. Winding his fingers into the floating tresses, he dragged her up until he could hook his arms beneath hers and lift her to the surface.

  Expecting her to kick and scream hysterically, Craig was surprised when Elaine hung limply in his arms. His heart alternated between racing and standing still. Was she alive?

  Then her body jerked and she coughed up water. “Joe,” she gasped.

  “It's me, Craig,” he said, swimming her toward a small island, praying the alligators would give them a break this one night.

  “Craig? How'd you get here?” she asked. “Where's Joe?”

  Craig concentrated on keeping her head above water until his bare feet touched the bottom. He sat Elaine on a large root, grabbed a low-hanging branch, and shoved it into her hands. “Can you hold on until I find him?”

  She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Yes, go.”

  Craig threw himself back into the murky water and swam out to the overturned boat. With a deep breath, he dove beneath it and resurfaced on the other side. No uncle.

  He swam in wider circles, bumping along the bottom of the bayou in case his uncle had submerged. In the shadow of a giant bald cypress free, he found a still form draped over a knobby cypress knee. Uncle Joe.

  His face was out of the water but the man wasn't moving. “Uncle Joe?” No response. Fear swirling through his stomach, Craig searched for a pulse. For a moment, he couldn't feel the reassuring beat of the older man's heart. Pain shot through Craig's chest, threatening to shut off his breathing. Not Uncle Joe. Please, Cod, not Uncle Joe.

  “Craig? Is that you, boy?” Uncle Joe breathed in a raspy voice.

  “Yes, sir It's me.”

  “Thought I saw you hop in the boat.” Uncle Joe coughed, grimaced and grabbed for his ribs. “Thank God for cypress knees. Kept me from drowning, but I think I busted a rib.”

  “Don't you worry, I'll have you outta here in no time.” Craig glanced around for the boat.

  “Where's Elaine?” Joe asked.

  “I'm here,” she called out from the darkness. “Are you all right?”

  “Nothing a little alcohol won't cure,” Joe yelled back. He coughed for his trouble. When he got his breath again, he asked, “What about the other boat?”

  “Gone,” Craig said.

  “Good.” Uncle Joe inhaled carefully. “Not up to a fight right now.”

  “No, you're not.” Craig didn't remind his uncle they weren't out of trouble yet. With the alligator population up and the fish population down... well now, that made for a bad combination for humans swimming in an alligator habitat.

  Uncle Joe pushed against the cypress knee, winced and looked around. “What about our boat?”

  “I don't know,” Craig said. “Hang fight while I check it out.”

  Craig swam out to the upside-down craft and quickly ran the tips of his fingers along the hull. One corner was dented in six inches, and a gash stretched from the dent up to the rim. He couldn't feel any other holes. Whatever the damage, the skiff was their only option. He had to get Elaine and Uncle Joe out of the water.

  Swimming hard, he pulled the boat to the shallows and struggled to flip it onto its belly. The skiff floated, but the motor was waterlogged and completely unserviceable. If they were lucky, they'd make it back to the marina before morning using good old-fashioned elbow grease and a paddle. He just hoped Uncle Joe's injuries weren't life threatening.

  With one hand wrapped around the tie-off rope, Craig swam the boat over to Elaine. He shoved her over the side onto the cool metal bench.

  Her teeth chattered and she clung to him even when she was seated. “I'm glad you found us.” For the moment, Elaine pushed aside her anger and misgivings about Craig's part in the Littington organization. He'd been there when she needed him. What more could she ask?

  “Me too.” He kissed her hard on the lips and peeled her arms from around his neck. “I've got to get Uncle Joe. We're going to be all right.” He swam the skiff to where Uncle Joe slouched over the cypress knees. “Need a hand?”

  “Yeah, 'fraid I do.” Uncle Joe never asked for help. The fact that he would meant he was in some amount of pain.

  “Not a problem.” Craig slid his arms under the other man and eased him over the side of the boat.

  The older man grunted, but didn't cry out.

  With both of the people Craig had grown to love in the boat, he realized he couldn't join them without a whole lot of questions.

  He'd been swimming in the nude. As a frog, he didn't have a need for clothing. As a man, he'd have a tough time explaining his lack of covering. Just as he pondered the dilemma, the rubber hip-waders floated to the surface in front of him.

  Craig sent a silent thank you to the heavens. The three of them just might make it through the night intact, both physically and mentally. His jaw tightened. And when he got back to dry land, he planned to catch whoever had done this to his family.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ************************************************************************************************

  Elaine thought they'd never get back to the marina. Damp and in a state of semi-shock, her teeth clattered so hard against each other, surely they'd chip.

  Without the engine and with only the one paddle Craig wielded, progress was slow.

  Cupping her stiff fingers. Elaine bailed water out of the bottom of the boat. She wished she could do more to help them along.

  Uncle Joe had lapsed into silence. Elaine couldn't see his expression, since he sat facing Craig in the middle of the boat.

  Elaine worried he wasn't doing well. She hoped he hadn't punctured a lung with the broken rib. He could also have a concussion, which meant he should stay awake.

  “Mr. Thibodeaux?” she called out. “Joe?”

  A few seconds went by before he grunted.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn't sound okay. Elaine tried to think of something to say that would keep him talking. “How long have you had the marina?”

  “Since I quit law.”

  Not quite the answer she expected. “I didn't know you were in law. Was everyone in Bayou Miste an attorney and I didn't know it?”

  “No, just the Thibodeauxs,” Craig said.

  “Why did you quit practicing, Joe?” Elaine asked.

  “Had my reasons.” His words were clipped, not inviting more digging. The night grew silent with only the sound of the paddle dipping in the water.

  Elaine couldn't help herself, she had to ask. “Was it a woman? You don't have to answer. I was just curious.” She rubbed her hands together to get the blood flowing in her cold fingers.

  For a long time, Joe was quiet. Then out of the darkness he said, “Yeah.”

  Just then, Elaine recalled Mozelle's comment about Joe loving Craig's mother, and the pieces fell into place. Damn! She should have kept her big mouth shut. And she would for the rest of the jo
urney back to the marina.

  But Joe had more to say. "It was a long time ago. And I still think about her every day of my life. Kinda hard not to…

  Elaine pried only because Joe seemed to want to talk about it. “Why, if it was such a long time ago?”

  Joe nodded his head in the direction of Craig. “This big doofus keeps coming back to remind me.”

  Uh-oh! Looked like Uncle Joe had kept a secret from his nephew and Elaine had busted it wide open. She wished she could crawl under a rock or slip over the side of the boat. She shrank back on the metal bench hoping she hadn't started a family feud.

  “Me?” Craig frowned.

  In the light from the half-moon shining through the gaps in the leaves, Uncle Joe stared across at Craig. “Yeah, you.”

  “What do I have to do with your love life?”

  What can of worms had she opened with her line of questioning? Elaine had only meant to keep Joe talking until they could get him back to land and a doctor.

  “I fell for the wrong girl back when I was about your age.”

  “Why was she wrong?” Elaine thought about her predicament with Craig. She was a scientist; he was an attorney, representing a client possibly responsible for polluting the ecosystem of the bayou. How much more wrong could they be for each other?

  “She was in love with another man.”

  Okay, so Joe had a stronger reason for her being the wrong one for him.

  “Did you tell her how you felt?” Elaine asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And what happened?”

  “She married my brother anyway.”

  Craig's gaze bored into his uncle's. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  Uncle Joe attempted a shrug, and winced for his effort. “What did it matter? She married your father, I moved to Bayou Miste, and the rest is history.”

  Craig leaned forward, the paddle dragging in the water. “Why did you run away?”

  “I left. Your father wouldn't have wanted me hangin' around like a dadgum fifth wheel.”

  “You're brothers.” Craig dipped the paddle into the water. “Couldn't you have worked things out?”

  Uncle Joe shook his head. “For years I couldn't be around her knowing she wasn't mine. And I couldn't forgive myself for betraying my brother.”

  “For loving my mother?” Craig couldn't see his mother, queen of the social scene, with Uncle Joe.

  A half smile tilted the corner of his uncle's mouth. “No. For telling her on their wedding day”

  “Oh.” Craig sat back, the wind knocked out of his sails.

  “Yeah, the timin'... how do you say... sucked.”

  “No kidding,” Craig muttered.

  “I've kicked myself all my life, wondering if it would have made a difference if I'd told her sooner. When you were old enough to come visit, I pretended you were our son. I probably even wished it. Then you grew up and haven't been here in so long, I thought I'd lost you as well.”

  Craig ran a hand through his hair. “I didn't know.”

  “No, you weren't supposed to.” Joe shifted on his seat. “When you went on to join the family business, just as your father wanted, I thought you were well on your way to making the same mistakes I did. Not taking any risks, living the life your family expects rather than the one you choose isn't the way to find happiness.”

  “I like my life,” Craig insisted.

  “Do you?” Uncle Joe stared up at him.

  “You like representing men like Jason Littington, who very well could be killing Bayou Miste?” Elaine, who'd been sitting quietly in the front of the boat, chose that moment to speak up. “I heard you were only in town on business and that business was with Littington of Littington Enterprises, the only refinery or major industrial anything between here and Morgan City.”

  “That's right.” Craig felt like he was on the wrong end of a judge, jury and hangman's noose.

  “I'll bet if we pull that dumped barrel we saw out of the swamp, we'll discover Littington at the bottom of it.” Elaine tipped her head to the side. “And you're proud of representing people like that?”

  “I don't judge until I hear both sides of the argument.”

  “And you tell no more of the truth than absolutely necessary, either.” Elaine's voice broke at the end of her words. “Is that one of the first lessons you learned in Law 101?”

  “I didn't lie to you, Elaine.”

  “You didn't tell me the truth, either.” Elaine wrapped her arms around herself as though she could ward off his words.

  “But I didn't lie,” he insisted.

  “What else haven't you told me, Craig?” She sniffed, and Craig wished he could see her face more clearly. Was she crying? That was the last thing he wanted.

  “I've told you everything I can. For anything else, you'll have to trust me.”

  She shook her head. "How can I trust you, when you

  I don't tell me all the truth? Like how did you get out in the swamp and find us? And why are you wearing those... those... rubbery things... instead of clothes?"

  If he told her he was a frog by day, she'd never believe him. And she would never trust him again if he didn't tell her. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. If she witnessed his transformation to an amphibian she'd know the truth, but she would also learn of the spell, and make herself ineligible to be the woman who loved him and broke the curse. Craig couldn't risk that happening. At this point she was his best chance for getting his hu man form back permanently. “I can't answer your questions now.”

  “Can't or won't?” Her shoulders rose and fell. “There's no trust.”

  Craig stared from Elaine to his uncle and back to Elaine. His heart squeezed fight in his chest. Elaine was slipping away from him and he couldn't do anything to get her back. “I guess that's it then.”

  “I guess so.” Elaine stared down at her feet.

  “What are you going to do with the information about the swamp?” Craig asked.

  “I'll go to the EPA,” she said, her voice low and her head still down.

  “Then there's nothing more to say.” Craig dug the paddle into the water. The quicker he got back to the marina, the sooner he could get away from her.

  “Bull feathers!” Uncle Joe shouted, followed immediately by several tentative coughs.

  “Stay out of it, Uncle Joe,” Craig warned.

  “Didn't you hear anything I said to you just now?” Joe whispered in deference to his sore rib.

  “Yes, but this is different.” He dug the paddle in again, propelling the boat forward and a little to the left. He compensated by dipping in on the opposite side.

  “Bull feathers!” Uncle Joe repeated. “You're crazy about this girl. Don't screw it up like I did.”

  “Uncle,” Craig said, his voice low and dangerous. If ever there was a time for the Coast Guard to show up, now would be good.

  The sound of a motor hummed softly in the night.

  “Do you think they came back for us?” Elaine asked.

  “Shhhh.” Craig tilted his head in the direction of the noise. “Sounds like a trolling motor.”

  “Larry, you gotta turn de motor off if you wanna gig dose frogs.” Mo's voice could be heard before Craig actually saw him.

  “But we be gettin' there much faster with it than without,” Larry argued.

  “Don't do no good for frog giggin' if you scare de frogs all away.”

  “Why we be giggin', anyway?” Larry asked. “Ain'tcha 'fraid we might catch our good buddy?”

  “He ain't a frog at night, bonehead. An' I got a hankern' for some fried frog legs.”

  Craig turned and stood in the boat, waving his paddle high over his head. “Mo, Larry, over here!”

  A jon boat similar to the one they were in trolled into view.

  “Craig, whatcha doin' out here on de bayou? Shouldn't you be findin' you a woman or something?” Mo called out.

  “Had us a little accident, guys. Think you could give us a lift back to the marina?
Uncle Joe could use some medical attention.”

  “You all right, Mr. Thibodeaux?” Mo pulled the boat alongside the damaged skiff.

  “Okay,” Joe wheezed. “For an old man with a broken rib, I guess.”

  “Woooweee! What happened here?” Larry stared at the skiff's damaged corner.

  “Had a run-in with a deck boat.” Craig tossed them the towrope.

  Mo whacked Larry in the gut. “I tol' you, der be some powerful bad magic on dis bayou tonight.”

  Larry rubbed his belly, frowning. “You didn't tell me dat.”

  “Well I felt it. I shoulda tol' you.”

  “You see what I have to put up with?” Larry said to Craig. He grabbed the rope and fled it to a metal loop at the back of their boat. “Ready?”

  “Thanks guys,” Craig said. As usual, his buddies came through for him. Mo waved aside his gratitude. “Dat's what friends are for.”

  Question was, would Craig come through for them? He had a mess to clean up and it stunk just as bad as the polluted barrel at the bottom of the bayou. He had to get to Jason Littington and find out what the hell was going on before he could convince Elaine he was not working for the bad guys. Although why her opinion of him meant so much, he couldn't imagine. But it did. A lot.

  About fifteen minutes later, they reached the marina. The bait shop had been closed since Uncle Joe had left earlier, but in the parking lot stood a shiny red Mercedes sports coupe.

  Uh oh. Craig's mess had just exploded to gargantuan proportions.

  Once Mo and Larry had tied the skiff to the dock, Elaine hurriedly accepted Mo's beefy hand to pull her to the wooden planks. “Thank you, Mo,” she offered, then turned to march up to the bait shop and as far away from Craig as she could get.

  Not until she'd reached the parking lot did Elaine realize she wasn't alone. A woman stepped out of a bright red Mercedes, a female like no other Elaine had ever encountered.

  She was everything Elaine was not. From sleek, tailored suit to perfectly straight blond hair hanging to an ideal length, not too long, not too short, she was classically beautiful in every way.