Whispers of the Bayou

by Mindy Starns Clark

  It wasn’t until I felt a shift in the airplane, a slight downward tilting of the nose, that I realized we were getting close to our destination. I glanced out of the window over Tess’s head, shocked at how drastically the landscape below us had changed. Gone was the sprawling suburbia of the northeast corridor, gone were the rolling fields and red clay of the Southeast hill country. We were in the Delta now, the land vast and green and flatter than any flat I had ever seen.

  For some reason, at the sight of the unusual terrain my heart felt as though it had flipped. It began to pound furiously in my chest, air whooshing from my lungs as if someone punched me in the solar plexus. The sound of my heartbeat roared in my head: Boom! Boom! Boom!

  “What is it, Mommy?”

  Tess followed my shocked gaze to look out of the window herself. Right behind her, I felt sure I was having some kind of attack. All sound left my ears save for the pounding boom boom boom of my heart. I opened my mouth wide and gasped in another breath, refilling my suddenly aching lungs, and wondered why I had thought this trip would be no big deal, just another voyage in a lifetime of travel. I had not one single memory of here, not of the people or the houses or the land, but somehow the downward tilt of the plane and the sight of the unfamiliar topography outside caused my heart to race and my lungs to ache and my eyes to well with sudden tears.

  What was wrong with me?

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I swallowed hard and sucked in more air and tried to calm my pounding chest. Clearly, this wasn’t a heart attack. It was a panic attack, something I had heard of a million times but had never experienced before.

  As I clutched the armrest and tried to get a breath and waited for my heart to explode, all I could think was that AJ had been right.

  We weren’t even there yet, and already I was off the deep end, fragmenting into a thousand pieces.

  SIX

  Thus ere another noon they emerged from those shades; and before them

  Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya.

  Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations

  Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus

  Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen.

  “Ooo, look,” Tess cooed, oblivious to my condition, her little voice muffled against the clear portal. “The grass is all sparkly!”

  Boom, boom, boom!

  I counted to ten, willing my heart rate to slow down, praying they wouldn’t have to take me off of the plane either sedated or in a straightjacket.

  Suck it up, Miranda! my mind screamed. Calm down!

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Through sheer force of will, I slowly succeeded in making myself relax, resisting the urge to gasp for air. Instead, I kept my eyes closed and just breathed, in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythm. It took nearly a minute, but finally the slamming of my heart against my chest became less all consuming, both in sound and feeling. Eventually, the urge to gasp for air dissipated as well and I continued to breathe steadily: in, out, in, out. Finally, I opened my eyes and wiped my face with the back of my hand, frustrated at the drama of it all.

  Why was I reacting this way, all breathless and teary-eyed over some place, some stupid scenery spotted from an airplane window? Was this strange reaction just a visceral response to the idea of coming home? In theory at least, if not in memory, this region was indeed my home.

  “Mommy, answer me!” Tess was saying, though thankfully her eyes were still focused in the other direction, out of the window. “Why is it sparkly? Is that diamonds?”

  Twenty-seven years. That’s how long I had been gone from here. Twenty-seven years since I must have witnessed the same terrain from the sky, though flying in the opposite direction. Maybe I had a memory of it, lodged somewhere deep inside. Maybe seeing this place again had tapped into feelings that had been buried ever since. AJ had warned me, and I hadn’t listened—either that, or the warnings themselves had caused me to overreact. I wasn’t sure which it was.

  I forced myself to sit up and look out again, hoping the scenery wouldn’t set off another bout of panic. Blessedly, it did not. I scanned the view more calmly this time, breathing deeply as I did, noting that the ground far below seemed marshy, with glints of light sparkling from among the grass.

  “It looks like water that’s making it sparkle,” I replied, finding my voice. “That must be swampland.”

  “It is!” Tess said, nodding sagely. “I can see alligators.”

  We were still too far up to see cars clearly, much less alligators, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.

  “Can you count the alligators?” I prodded, hoping to keep her attention focused out of the window a while longer, at least until the heat left my cheeks and redness faded from my eyes.

  Tess counted as high as she could and then threw in some extra numbers for good measure. As she did, I pulled out a tissue, wiped at my face, and blew my nose. By the time she grew bored with counting, I seemed to have myself pretty much under control. At least I could breathe now, and the tightness in my chest was gone, though I still felt shaky and light and clammy.

  I stole another look out the window. The empty marshland was now sprinkled with farms and towns. I was amazed again at the flatness of it all, the greenness. The Louisiana landscape was utterly foreign and yet somehow completely familiar to me, though I doubted that my familiarity was based on anything real. Maybe I had seen pictures or something. Maybe I just wanted to think I could remember.

  “Look, Mommy. Houses.”

  Knowing we would probably reach the ground in about ten minutes, I told Tess it was time for us to straighten up and put all of her things away.

  “This was fun,” she said emphatically as she gathered together her dolls and their tiny clothes. “Mommies almost never just play.”

  Ouch.

  “I play with you all the time, honey,” I replied evenly, trying not to sound hurt. Good grief, I made a point of sitting down with her nightly, no matter how tired or stressed I was from work, giving her a good half hour of undivided attention between bath and bed, to read or draw or play any game she wanted. “We almost never miss a night.”

  “Yeah, but that’s because you have to,” she said, cramming the dolls into her carry-on bag. “I like it better when you want to.”

  I let that one roll around in my head for a while without comment as we finished putting our things away. Even today on the plane, I hadn’t wanted to spend so much time playing with her. I had done it just because I’d had no other choice. Was that one of the reasons I struggled so with parenting, because I interacted out of obligation while other mothers did it simply because it was something they enjoyed? Not having any close friends who were mothers themselves, I had no answer for that question.

  “You’re right. That was fun,” I said finally, wishing I really meant it. “Maybe we can get something new to play with on the flight back.”

  “Okay!”

  I tucked our bags under the seats in front of us. As we angled toward the treetops, I placed an arm across Tess’s chest and looked out the window, noting how the rows of dark roofs were punctuated here and there by bright blue tarps. In the row behind us, I heard a man explaining to his seatmate that the tarps were there to cover the roofs that still awaited repair after Hurricane Katrina.

  “We made it,” I said, pulling my arm back as we taxied to a stop at the gate.

  As we waited for the airplane doors to open, I took a deep breath, thinking about my shocking anxiety attack and the fear that I would have to be carried from the plane in a straightjacket. I didn’t know what that whole thing had been about, but as the doors opened and Tess and I got in line to file off, I decided that for now at least I really was okay. My body and mind were back to normal and under control.

  After going downstairs and retrieving our bags, we moved away from the chaos of the baggage claim area and watched for Nathan’s sister, Quinn, who was supposed to be meet
ing us here. I also had an eye open for Mr. Benochet, who had called me first thing this morning, as soon as he saw my e-mail. He insisted that I cancel the rental car and let him take me to Twin Oaks. When I had protested that I would need some sort of transportation while I was in town, he said that there were several cars out at the house, any one of which I could use while I was here.

  “Miranda? Miranda Miller?”

  Tess and I both looked to see an older, silver-haired distinguished gentleman, in an elegant suit and tie, coming toward us. He was gazing at me with curiosity, studying my face. I reached back to pat my pinned-up twist and met his eyes, nodding as I spoke.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Charles Benochet. Are you Miranda?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew it was you, cher,” he cried, slapping his knee as he broke into a broad smile. “Somethin’ about the way you carry yourself, and that dark hair. You remind me so much of your mamere.”

  “My who?”

  “Your defante mamere, your late grandmother. You look so much like her. And this must be your daughter, bless her heart. She looks like she takes after her daddy with those blond curls.”

  He gave a little wave to Tess and she smiled shyly.

  “Do you know my daddy?”

  “No, I don’t,” he said, “but seeing as how there aren’t any blue-eyed blondes on your mama’s side of the family, I have to guess that you got all that from him.” He knelt down to Tess’s level. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Tess,” she answered, hiding halfway behind my legs, thumb suddenly popping into her mouth.

  “Cass?”

  “Tess,” she repeated. “T-E-S-S.”

  “Got it. Tess. Like, tess-ting one, two, three.”

  She giggled, and he stood up straight again, grinning.

  Since my grandmother’s death six years ago, I had spoken to Charles Benochet several times on the phone, always to discuss some detail of the estate that AJ needed my input on. In my mind’s eye, the man on the other end of the phone hadn’t been nearly so distinguished, so dapper. Maybe it was the South Louisiana accent, but I had pictured someone far less…cosmopolitan. Shaking hands with him now, I realized that I had judged this man unfairly just because of his country accent. Shame on me.

  I explained that Tess would be leaving with my sister-in-law, who was supposed to be meeting us here. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of her, so I pulled out my cell phone to call. I had turned it off on the plane and as it sprang to life now, I saw that there was a message waiting for me. I dialed in to pick up that message and listened to Quinn apologizing profusely, saying that she’d been delayed at school. Apparently, she hadn’t realized that she had to fulfill several more duties in her job as a resident assistant in the dorm before she was free to leave town and head home. She promised to call me tomorrow once she was on the road, saying she expected to arrive in this area by two p.m. at the latest.

  Hanging up the phone, I swallowed down my anxiety about having Tess tag along with me between now and then. All things considered, she should be safe; then again, I had thought I was safe yesterday cutting through an alley in Manhattan, and I had ended up facedown in slime.

  Swallowing my anxiety for now, I told Tess about the change in plans. She took it better than I expected, seeming merely disappointed rather than devastated. We headed for the parking garage, Tess and I holding hands as we walked alongside Charles, his driver rolling the bags ahead of us. Stepping outside, we encountered air so thick and hot that I felt as though a steaming wet washcloth had been slapped over my face. I had known that Louisiana in June would be warm, and I had certainly been to a number of humid places in my life, but I had never felt a combination of heat and humidity quite like this, at least not in my memory. The air was unbelievably oppressive. It didn’t help matters that my beige linen jacket and brown short-sleeved top formed layers that were no doubt holding in the heat, and the chic rope-and-ceramic-bead necklace I wore felt like a scratchy wool scarf.

  But, thankfully, we were climbing into the air-conditioned comfort of the long black limousine a few moments later. Captivated by the television, bar, built in cooler, and other bells and whistles of the fancy vehicle, Tess became frustrated with me for making her wear her seatbelt when what she really wanted to do was jump around and explore. I finally got her to settle down by buckling her directly across from the DVD player, next to the window and within reach of the little fridge. I sat beside her, in the center of the back, and Charles took his place facing backwards on the seat across from us. Needing for her to be quiet and settle in for the ride, I pulled one of her favorite DVDs from her bag and handed it to Charles, who put it into the player. As the driver started up the car and drove us out of the airport, Charles got the DVD started and then made a big deal of letting Tess hold the remote control and showing her how to use it. Soon she was deeply engrossed in a show and we were away from the airport and pulling onto an elevated highway, Charles and I making polite conversation as we went.

  The afternoon sun was strong, the blue sky dotted with white and gray fluffy clouds. To our right, a waterway suddenly opened up into a lake that stretched all the way to the horizon, its gentle waves sparkling in the sunlight. In the distant heavens, a bank of clouds slowly slid in front of the sun, dimming those sparkles, but then gradually the light refracted through the clouds into sunbeams, illuminating the entire lake with brilliant stripes of light. The sight was breathtaking, a moment in nature frozen for our pleasure.

  The rocking of the car caused Tess to fall asleep, her head growing heavy on my thigh. I pressed the mute button on the remote and turned my attention to the man across from me. He glanced at his watch and then settled back in his own seat, his expression solemn. With Tess conveniently asleep, Charles and I needed to talk about more serious concerns, that was for certain.

  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you got here in the nick of time,” he said, stroking his chin between two fingers. “Your grandparents’ old caretaker, Willy Pedreaux, is within days of his death.”

  “Is he in the hospital?”

  “No, he’s home with a private nurse. And his wife. The two of them are making him as comfortable as possible, considering. And they’ve had some help from a local hospice group. He should be able to remain there until the very end.”

  I shuddered, wishing the man hadn’t chosen to die at home, in the house that I owned.

  “So why does he need to see me?” I asked. “What is this all about?”

  Charles looked at me, surprise evident on his face.

  “Well, Miranda, I’m sure I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  SEVEN

  Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees;

  Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens

  Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.

  They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana.

  “I know far less than you do,” I said, trying not to sound irritated at the lawyer’s ignorance. “I only learned about the situation yesterday. My aunt showed me your letters and e-mails, and that’s it. We tried calling, but Mr. Pedreaux wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone. He insisted I come down, so here I am. End of story.”

  Charles pursed his lips and let out a low whistle.

  “Well, I tell you what, Willy wanted you here so bad he was willing to do almost anything to make it happen. I’ve never seen anyone so frantic. In the past few days, they’ve had to sedate him twice just to get him to calm down. As much as I’ve been pestering you to come, Willy’s nurse has been bugging me even more. One thing is for certain: Willy’s not going to go gently into that good night until he has had a chance to speak with you, face-to-face. I know you didn’t have to come, but it was kind of you, considering the situation.”

  A flash of white caught my eye, and I turned in time to see a broad, beautiful bird lift up from the water a
nd take flight.

  “I would have come sooner if I had known,” I said. “Unfortunately, my aunt chose not to tell me about any of this until yesterday afternoon.” Afraid my voice sounded bitter, I looked at him and added, “I mean, she thought she was doing the right thing. We don’t—we kind of cut ties with Louisiana years ago. If she had her wish, things would have stayed that way.”

  Charles spotted a loose thread on his cuff and gently tugged at it.

  “Oh, I know. Janet and I go way back. She’s a lovely woman who cares for you deeply. I’m sure she thought she was acting in your best interests. If Willy hadn’t been so insistent, I would never have pressed the issue myself.”

  I reached back to check the bobby pins in my hair, wondering if Charles had seen the letter Willy sent directly to AJ. Surely not, for if he had, he would have asked me about the symbol specifically.

  “Let me ask you a question,” I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out the drawing of Jimmy Smith. “Do you know this man?”

  I handed the picture to Charles and he studied it for a moment.

  “No. Should I?”

  “Not necessarily,” I replied, avoiding an explanation with another question. “How about this?” I asked, using a pen to draw the symbol on the top corner of the paper. “Have you ever seen this shape before? By any chance, do you know what it means?”

  Charles took the paper from me and again studied it carefully. He didn’t recognize it, either, but rather than explain why I wanted to know, I simply folded the paper and tucked it back into my bag, saying that I had a lot of weird questions like that for Willy, silly things that had to do with my past and my family.

  To change the subject, I asked about the dying man’s wife.

  “Has she made any plans for what she’ll do after he dies?” I asked. “I hope she knows that’s she’s welcome to stay on at the house for as long as she needs. We’d never sell it out from under her.”