Spirits of the Bayou

by Morgan Hannah MacDonald

  That would give the tourists a story to tell for years to come. He laughed until he cried. The guys were right, he was a pussy. Luc stood and wiped the wet grass off his ass. When he looked up, he noticed the aunts across the street beckoning to him.

  He looked both ways before crossing the street, force of habit. “Idiot.” No one was around this late, they were all tucked in their warm beds. He wished he was as well, instead of freezing his nuts off out there in the middle of winter.

  As he approached Minnie and Maude, they vanished. What the fuck? This was really getting old. Then he noticed he was standing in front of the Thibodeaux home. Did he show up there on purpose or had the aunts guided him? It really didn’t matter, at this point he had nothing to lose.

  Luc went through the gate and made his way to the back of the house. He stared at the door; he didn’t have a paperclip on him. How the hell was he going to get inside? He turned around looking for a rock to break the glass when he heard a click behind him. He swung around and saw that the door had popped open. He waited for the person on the other side to show themselves.

  When nothing more happened, he pushed the door all the way and peeked inside. The kitchen was dark and empty. He didn’t need more of an invitation than that, so he walked in and closed the door. The house was deathly still. Luc made his way to the front parlor and sat on the velvet sofa. He took off his shoes and curled up. Before long, he was fast asleep.

  He awoke to the smell of bacon cooking. For a second he thought he was home until he opened his eyes. Like a homing beacon, he followed the aroma into the kitchen where he found a short plump black woman standing over the stove. She turned around with a pair of tongs in her hand.

  “’Bout time ya woke. Tot chew was gonna sleep all day.” She pointed to the overflowing trashcan in the corner. “Dump that and wash your hands for breakfast.”

  Luc was struck dumb.

  Was he dreaming? Was this another vision that would soon disappear and he’d find himself back in that cold shack shivering away in the corner?

  “Chew deef boy?”

  Luc shook his head.

  “Den do whatcha told.” She turned around and tended the bacon. Luc grabbed the tall plastic receptacle and walked out the back door. He searched for the cans. Not seeing them, he walked down the cement steps and out into the middle of the yard. He located them on the side of the house.

  When he returned, the woman handed him a plastic bag. “Put dis inside.”

  Luc lined the can and set it back in place. Awaiting his next instructions, he stood still and stared at the woman’s back. When she finally turned around, she looked cross. “Go wash up.” She pointed her fork toward the front of the house.

  He located a bathroom on the first floor. Once he walked in, he found a washcloth sitting on top of a hand towel, and a toothbrush with toothpaste on the counter. He closed the door and put the water on to heat. Hot water was a luxury he’d forgotten about over the years.

  After soaping up, he splashed the warm liquid on his face over and over again it felt damn awesome. When he returned to the kitchen, the woman with the thick accent stared at him. Her face appeared set in a permanent scowl. He backed up a step. “’Bout time. Did chew clean up ya mess?” Luc ran out of the kitchen and heard her cackling all the way to the bathroom.

  The counter was full of water, and the stuff he’d used was strewn about. Quickly he dried everything off, then stacked the items against the wall on the counter. He stared at the towel in his hand wondering what to do with it. He added it to the wet washcloth and carried them back. The woman was busy scrambling eggs.

  “Ma’am?”

  She turned around so fast, it gave Luc a start. She cackled again. “Put ’em in da chute.” She pointed with her spatula toward the wall next to the stairs. He walked over and noticed a square cut into the wallpaper. He pushed on it with his hand and it moved backward on hinges that creaked, he let go and it fell back into place. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the lady was watching him.

  “Go ’head, boy. Drop ’em in. Ain’t gonna bite chew.” She waved her spatula in a shooing motion and Luc did as he was told. When he woke up from this dream, he hoped he remembered it. Just then he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye and he jerked his head sideways.

  It was that Frank guy. “Good morning, Luc, nice of you to join us. Come into the dining room where we can chat.”

  ELEVEN

  Luc followed Frank into the next room and sat at the long dining room table across from him where the other place setting was laid. A tall orange juice stood to his right. It was so cold that sweat dripped down the sides of the glass. He couldn’t help but salivate as he stared.

  “Help yourself, it’s for you.”

  He glanced at Frank, then picked up the juice and downed half of it before setting the glass back down.

  “Clara squeezes it every morning. She says the stuff you buy in the store isn’t any good because all the nutrients have been removed. I don’t know anything about that, but it does taste a hell of a lot better.” Frank picked up his own glass and took a sip.

  “Ya’ll act like you were expecting me,” Luc said.

  “I’ve left the back door open since the night we met, hoping you would return.”

  Luc stared at the man; he had to be crazy. “That’s pretty risky, isn’t it? I mean, anyone could have come in and robbed the place.”

  Frank pulled his napkin off the table. “Let’s just say I have my own kind of alarm system. Didn’t you ever wonder how I knew my house was being robbed that night you and your gang were here?”

  “I just figured it was a coincidence. You have some kind of silent alarm or something?” Luc asked.

  “Something like that. Your aunts paid me a visit last night to let me know you’d arrived.”

  Luc’s stomach did a flip-flop. “You saw my aunts—Minnie and Maude?”

  “I did and they’ve been very worried about you,” he said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  Luc’s body quivered as a chill raced through his body. “You actually talked to them?”

  “Why yes. We’re all glad you took me up on my offer,” he said with annoying confidence.

  “I’m not making any promises.” Luc didn’t like the way he talked as if it was a done deal assuming he had Luc in the palm of his hand. Luc was his own man, nobody could tell him what to do.

  Frank splayed his hands. “Of course, take your time. I’m simply happy you’ve given me a chance. That’s all.”

  “You can see and talk to ghosts?”

  “Yes. I’ve been able to for as long as I can remember.”

  Luc thought about that. “So the alarm you were talking about, is it a ghost?”

  Frank nodded. “An ancestor of mine. There’s not much that goes on in this house that I’m not aware of, whether I like it or not. To tell you the truth, he can be a bit intrusive at times, popping up when he’s not exactly welcome. But he’s better than any watch dog when it comes to guarding the old homestead so I can’t complain.”

  In that instant Luc had a vision of Frank kissing a woman on a couch with a man in a civil war uniform standing over them.

  “Wow,” Luc exclaimed.

  Frank’s eye went wide as he stared at Luc. “Sorry, that was not meant for you to see. Like I said, I can’t control the old codger.” He glanced to his left. “Behave yourself, Jedediah.”

  Luc couldn’t see who he was talking to, but he was fascinated.

  The housekeeper walked into the room carrying two plates. She laid the first in front of Frank and the second in front of Luc. Once her hands were free, she snatched the linen napkin off the table, the utensils clanked as they landed in a heap.

  When Luc saw her hand heading for his junk he got ready to slap it away, but she simply covered his crotch with the napkin. Like it was offending her or something, he glared at her as she backed away.

  “Ain’t in no barn, boy.”

 
Luc watched her leave the room, then glanced over at Frank, who was making a face. “Sorry, she’s a real stickler for manners.”

  “Why’d she cover my dick?” Luc asked.

  Frank laughed and Luc jumped to his feet. He didn’t need to take this shit. The man’s hands flew up in surrender. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled again. “I’m sorry, really. Please sit.” Luc wasn’t sure what he wanted to do until he got a look at his plate and his stomach made the decision for him. It was piled with bacon, scrambled eggs and grits.

  The woman was back carrying a bowl covered in a linen towel. She set it between him and Frank, then set a jar of dark purple jam next to it. After she retreated, Luc pulled back the fabric and found a bunch of hot fat biscuits. He grabbed one and took a huge bite before he plopped back in his seat.

  Frank reached over and selected one for himself. “Clara’s a great cook.” He broke it open and buttered it. “These biscuits are made from scratch.”

  Luc glared at the man to let him know he was still pissed.

  “I apologize for my outburst, but some of your comments take me by surprise.” Frank spooned a large helping of jam onto the two sides of his biscuit. “And at my age that’s hard to do.” He took a bite and chewed before he spoke again.

  “To answer your question, Clara was placing the napkin on your lap because it’s proper etiquette. She wasn’t putting it there to hide anything.” He set the biscuit aside and picked up a piece of bacon.

  “It’s not like we’re in a restaurant or anything. Who’s she trying to impress?” Luc asked.

  Frank swallowed a bite of bacon. “She’s trying to teach you manners so that when you are eating around other people you don’t embarrass yourself.”

  “What’s the big deal about where I put my napkin as long as I use it?” Luc spooned some of the delicious looking jam on his biscuit before taking another bite.

  “Good point, using your napkin is the most important reason you have it, but people may think you’re ignorant or rude if you don’t place it in your lap.”

  Luc got jam on his finger and put it in his mouth, then stopped when he noticed Frank was watching. He searched for the napkin and found it on the floor. It must have fallen when he stood. He picked it up and wiped his hand before he returned it to his lap.

  “Clara also canned the jam herself. It’s her recipe made with blackberries and raspberries that grow on the property. Do you like it?”

  Luc nodded as he seized his fork and began shoveling food into his mouth. Everything was so good. Picking through dumpsters, you might find a bite here or there, but it was always cold and the taste was lacking.

  He chose another biscuit and mopped up the rest of his grits. He finished the juice in his glass and poured another. When that was gone he sat back, put his hands on his stomach and glanced across the table. The man opposite him had a bite of eggs on his fork, his hand stopped in front of his mouth while he stared at Luc with huge eyes. “I guess you were hungry. Would you like some more?”

  Frank’s plate looked as if it hadn’t been touched. “No, thank—” A huge belch rumbled out interrupting him. He covered his mouth before it happened again. If he’d done that at home, his papa would have slapped him.

  Clara ran into the room. “What that?”

  Frank chuckled. “Luc really enjoyed your cooking.”

  She splayed a hand on her chest. “A mighty fine compliment for sure.” She dipped her head once in acknowledgment.

  “Do you think he might get another plate?” Frank asked.

  She focused on Luc. “When’s the last time you ate, boy?”

  His stomach began to rumble and he shook his head.

  “It’s what I feared. We wait. See if it stays with him first. Not used to all that food.”

  Luc jumped up so abruptly his chair fell backward crashing to the floor while he raced to the bathroom. He slammed the door and barely made it to the toilet before he puked up his entire breakfast. When he’d finished, he collapsed on the cool tile. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he felt hands grab him by the shoulders and feet.

  He squinted to see Frank and Clara carrying him through the house. They were probably going to throw him out, he didn’t blame them one bit. To his surprise, they deposited him on a bed in a darkened room. A cool hand touched his forehead and cheek. “Po’ chil’ burnin’ up. Weren’t ma cookin’ done dis.”

  He woke sometime later to a coolness about his face. That woman was sitting on the side of the bed, she wore a worried expression. She dipped a washcloth in a bowl of water, squeezed it out, and then wiped him with it. He was so grateful he wanted to cry. His heavy lids collapsed before he could thank her.

  “Tis all right, chil’. Chew gonna be fine, Aunty Clara’s here.”

  “How’s he doing?” Frank’s voice broke through the fog.

  “Gots a powerful fever, dis one.”

  “The doctor should be here soon. I feel horrible, I just thought he’d eaten too much too fast, but when he didn’t return…” Frank’s voice faded.

  “Don’ go blamin’ yurself. Iee’s tinkin’ da same.”

  The next time Luc awoke, he found himself covered in blankets. He pulled them off and noticed he was wearing a new pair of skivvies. The house was dark, but he heard a TV coming from somewhere.

  He switched on the lamp by the bed and spied a pile of clothes sitting on a nearby chair except they weren’t his. Panicked, he searched the room but his clothes were gone. He had no choice but to pull on the new jeans. To his amazement, they fit great, even in the length.

  He followed the sound of the TV to a room filled with books and really comfy looking brown leather furniture. There he saw Frank with his feet up on the coffee table. The moment he noticed Luc, his feet landed on the floor with a thud and he stood at attention. “Don’t tell Clara I had my shoes on the furniture, she’d skin me alive. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was hit by a truck, I hurt all over.”

  “I bet. Come on over and have a seat.” Frank plopped back down and punched the couch beside him.

  Luc sat and then slid down until he was slouching next to Frank. “I don’t get it, she’s your housekeeper. How come you let her tell you what to do?”

  “Don’t let her hear you call her that.” Frank chuckled. “Clara runs this house and everyone in it. Between you and me, I like it that way. Sure, she’s bossy, but she also has a big heart. She nursed you back to health.”

  Luc glanced up at the clock on the mantel, but couldn’t see the hands in the dim light. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Three days.”

  Luc stared at Frank. “Three days!”

  Frank patted him on the back. “Calm down. You were really sick. The doctor said you had some kind of a weird bug that must have been carried here from someone on one of the cruise ships.”

  “I have a bug in me?”

  “Sorry, bad choice of words, I should have said flu or virus. When I explained how you’ve been living, the doctor theorized you’d probably picked it up from something you ate, like an unfinished sandwich.”

  Embarrassed that Frank knew he’d eaten from a garbage can, Luc turned away.

  Frank patted him on the shoulder. “Luc, you have nothing to be ashamed about. People have done much worse in order to survive, believe me. Sometime I’ll tell the story about the Donner Party. Anyway, the good news is the doctor finally found an antibiotic strong enough to kill this thing.

  “I’ve never seen Clara more concerned in my life. She stayed by your side morning and night. She tried to get fluids in you, but you kept throwing everything up. The doctor had to put an IV in so you didn’t get too dehydrated. At one point your fever spiked so high we had to put you in the tub and fill it with ice water.”

  “She saw me naked?” Luc was horrified. He’d never be able to look the woman in the face again.

  Frank shook his head. “Trust me, the last thing she was thinking about were your man par
ts as she would put it. Clara was a nurse back in Haiti and as such has given countless sponge baths, yours was just another body.”

  “I hear ma name? Whatcha doin’ outta bed?” Clara stood in the open doorway with her hands on her hips.

  “You’re just too good of a nurse, it seems your patient has recovered.” Frank grinned, and then frowned as he pulled his feet off the table again.

  “Chew keep dem feet off da furniture.” She whirled around and marched back toward the kitchen.

  Frank did an exaggerated frown like a kid who just got in trouble and Luc laughed, grabbing the sides of his belly. “Ow, that hurts.”

  “I’m sure. You threw up for twenty-four hours straight or at least went through the motions, since most of the time you had the dry heaves. Not just your stomach muscles were strained, but your entire body seized when you puked. That’s why you ache all over.”

  “That’s weird, I don’t remember a thing,” Luc said.

  “That’s probably a good thing. Clara was shouting in Creole every cuss word she knows. She was mighty distressed, afraid you were going to die. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were bawling her eyes out right now in relief.”

  “Clara cries?”

  “Are you kidding me? All women cry. That’s something you should learn right now. And sometimes, it is not pretty, but don’t you ever comment on it if you want to live another day.”

  Luc mimicked Frank’s exaggerated frown and they laughed. Luc held his sides and enjoyed the moment. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed. Really laughed.

  “Chew hyenas stop dat racket an’ come eat. See if Jon-Luc keep sump tin’ down.” They turned to see Clara’s stern face, and looked at each other with their mouths set in a giant O. Luc laughed until tears streamed down his face.

  “Children.” Clara shook her head. “Jus’ children.” She left the room.

  Over the next three months, Frank and Luc did all sorts of things together: went to ball games, movies, fishing, played cards and chess. Things a normal father and son would do. Things Luc’s own father had never made time for.