Bitter Root

by Laydin Michaels

  Griffith did as she was told, her stomach growling in anticipation. The puddings had a fine golden crust, and brown hints of raisin poked through. She knew the ultimate touch would be the addition of the sauce, but she could’ve eaten the pudding as is. Bertie slid the tray onto the counter. She pulled out three saucers and upended the puddings as quick as you please.

  “The trick is the turning. If you turn them when they’re nice and fresh from the oven, they want to let go of the bowl a lot easier. Let ’em cool and forget about it.”

  She lifted the ramekins and each plate now held a perfect little castle of golden deliciousness. Bertie scooped a generous amount of sauce on each and handed one to Griffith.

  “Now, it won’t be good unless you burn your mouth. Go on and take a bite.”

  The incredible taste and velvety texture of the pudding was unlike anything Griffith had ever eaten. It wrapped around her tongue and sent waves of happiness through her. Amazing. The sauce was fantastic, just the right accent for the mélange of custard, bread, butter, and bourbon soaked raisins. She could die happy now. There was no way that dish could be topped. She had hands down had the best dessert of her lifetime.

  Adi leaned on the counter next to her, enjoying her own pudding. Griffith watched the play of the muscles in her arm as she scooped a fresh spoon of heaven.

  “How is it that you keep so fit with all this good food around? If I worked here I’d have a hard time not indulging.”

  “I’ve pretty much grown up here in this kitchen, so I guess I just adapted to the menu. I like walking too. When I get a break I usually walk down to City Park and walk the trails. Sometimes I take a canoe out on the Teche too. That probably helps.”

  “Canoeing? Seriously? I haven’t been in a canoe since Girl Scouts.”

  Adi hesitated, then looked directly into Griff’s eyes. Griffith felt a jolt of energy, not knowing what Adi was looking for, but hoping she saw it in her.

  “You’re welcome to come along. If you haven’t ever been out on the bayou, it’s pretty awesome. Give you a feel for what make this place special.”

  Griffith knew instinctively the value of the invitation. This was something Adi cherished, and she wanted to share it with her. She wants me to know her. It’s only a matter of time until she opens up to me. If I can just be honest with myself and Adi, we’ll be fine.

  “I’d like that. When would we be able to go? What’s your schedule?”

  “I suppose we could go tomorrow. We’re closed, so we can take as long as we like. I just have to run a few errands in the morning.”

  “That would be great. Thank you. Where and when should I plan to meet you?”

  “Let’s say ten thirty. We can meet up here and drive down to Jeanerette.”

  “Perfect. I’m looking forward to seeing the bayou. I’ve seen pictures, and it looks beautiful.” Keep it casual, McNaulty. Don’t lose this chance.

  “Just wait until you see it up close. Be sure and bring a long-sleeved shirt and pants. The sun can be fierce, not to mention the mosquitoes. Oh, and sunscreen. I’ll take care of provisions.”

  Griffith was excited about the prospect of spending the day with Adi. She’s starting to trust me. I’ve just got to make sure that trust isn’t misplaced.

  “Great. I really appreciate you giving me the tour.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  “Okay, on that note, I’m going to call it a night.”

  “What, you aren’t going to help with the dishes?” Bertie said.

  “Umm…”

  “Aw, I’m just pulling your leg. It’s Adi’s turn to help Jose. You and me, we can just slip on out.” She grabbed Griffith’s hand and led her out the back door to the parking lot.

  “Which rattle trap is yours?”

  “I don’t think you can see it from here. I parked on the other side of Adi’s truck.”

  “Well. All right then. I’m in that Impala, there, so I’ll say good night.”

  “Good night, Bertie. Be careful getting home.”

  “You too. Oh, before you go, I just want to say you sure have a good way about you. I was all kinds of worried about how Dink was going to react having a stranger in her business, but you calm her down. I’ve seen more smiles on that girl today than I have in a month of Sundays. Be sure you don’t mess that up, now. You go spooking her with too many questions and she’s going pull herself all in like a big old turtle. Don’t you let that happen, you hear?”

  “I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

  “Good, see that you are.”

  “Night, Bertie.”

  “Good night.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fool. What made me go and invite her canoeing? She’s a reporter, for heaven’s sake. Idiot. Adi punched the seat next to her in frustration. I’m never going to be a normal person. I’ll always be tied to J.B. He killed me long ago and I’m still just figuring that out. She’d helped Jose close up and headed to her car about an hour after Bertie and Griffith left. She’d had nothing but regret over her casual invitation to Griff. The knot in her belly was tighter than a Baptist’s purse at happy hour. I need to call her and tell her I’m sick or something. I can’t do this. She kicked herself, realizing the only thing she knew about contacting Griffith was the hotel she was staying in.

  Should I just drive over there and start knocking on doors? No, that’s crazy. I just have to suck it up and get through tomorrow. I’ll be okay. I just need to forget about who she is and enjoy being on the bayou. If I just have fun, I can keep her questions away. The thought of being on the bayou with Griffith was pretty appealing, all in all. She liked her, enjoyed spending time with her. Heck, when their hands had touched tonight, it was like she’d put her hand on a live wire. The electric feeling that washed through her had been all she thought about until now. I’d like to touch more of her. Knowing Griffith might feel the same way was distracting. That’s how the invitation had slipped out. She kept imagining what it would be like to be floating on the quiet waters with Griffith in the boat ahead of her. She’d be able to watch the wind play across Griff’s tangle of soft golden curls, the subtle play of muscles in her arms and back as she rowed.

  I’ll be able to imagine all sorts of things. But it’s not my imagination that she’s a danger to me. She could destroy me with the slip of a pen. And the fantasies I create in my mind around her could destroy me in this community if I ever acted on them. I have to protect myself, my life. I have to do whatever it takes to stay hidden.

  She tried to shake off her fear and relax about the canoe trip, but it was harder than she thought. Bertie was asleep in her chair when she got home, but the creak of the door hinge had her sitting up and looking around.

  “Hey, Dinky. How you doing?”

  “Aw, Bertie. I don’t know how I’m doing. I’m getting myself in all kinds of trouble with my big mouth.”

  “Honey, you got a nice mouth. Not too big, not too small. Just right, in fact. What’s worrying at you? You look like a dog circling a treed raccoon. Set on down there and tell me what’s the matter,” Bertie said.

  “It’s Griffith. Why’d I go and invite her to spend the day with me tomorrow? What was I thinking?”

  “Seems to me you were thinking of having a nice time with a beautiful woman. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Everything’s wrong with that. I can’t be spending hours and hours with her. You know that. You know what made me who I am, Bertie. You know she can’t be getting into all of that.”

  “Shucks, girl. You hold on to that secret any harder and that coal’s gonna turn to a diamond. I’m telling you. I know you lived hard times, harder than most. Things you seen and done, well, they ain’t good things. But that’s the past, child. You don’t even know that that man is still alive, much less looking for you. This gal may be able to help you find out. She’s got connections and credentials to find out a lot more than you or me. If you can find it in your heart to trust her, maybe she can find out if he’s ou
t there looking. Maybe she can help you get free of him for good.”

  “But what if she writes about me and J.B.? What if her story brings all of his hate and anger down on us here at the Pot? I can’t risk that. I can’t put you and T and Jose in that kind of danger,” Adi said.

  “Seems to me, the danger is in not speaking up. If folks knew about him, they’d find a way to put a stop to him, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t. He owned the local police when I was a kid. Probably owns even more now. He’s a scary man, Bertie.”

  “He can’t own all the police. There has to be a way to bring him to reckoning. Lord knows you’ve suffered long enough hiding here. You deserve a life. You deserve to be the woman I raised you to be. Free, proud, and happy.”

  Adi hunched her shoulders, knowing what Bertie said made sense. But Bertie didn’t know J.B. She hadn’t watched the cold, calculated look in his eye when he killed someone. She hadn’t seen the bodies, bloodied and bruised, that she’d helped him consign to the deep. Most of all, she didn’t know about Ransom Prejean. Adi’d never been able to bring herself to tell Bertie about the man whose life she took. She knew that she really hadn’t had a choice, but she’d never forget his face. Never forget his kids. Bertie had something there with the thought of using Griffith to find out more about J.B., but she still thought the risk was far too high. It might cost her the only happiness she could remember. Heck, it could even send me to prison.

  “I’ll think on it, Bertie. I promise. I know you want me to shake free of his hold. Maybe I can figure out some way to make that happen. Maybe Griffith can help, but for now, I just have to keep holding my secret.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll see the sense in what I’m saying and take a chance. You got to know you can’t live your whole life this way. It’s been eight years of hiding. Eight years of sticking to the shadows and watching life go by. I’m not going to be here forever, Adi. I’m seventy-four years old. You got to figure a way to build a life for yourself. One that fills you up and pushes all that darkness out,” Bertie said softly, staring into space.

  “Don’t talk that way. You aren’t going anywhere for a long time. I’ll do it, I promise. I just have to do it in my own time, in my own way,” Adi said.

  “See that you do. Best get on to bed now, since you got you a date tomorrow. Want to be looking well rested for that pretty gal.”

  “Bertie. It’s not a date, I mean…we’re just going canoeing.” It wasn’t surprising that Bertie knew. She always knew things before Adi did.

  “Umm-hmm. Tell yourself whatever makes you feel good, but I know a date when I see one. You and her got date written all over yourselves.”

  Adi walked back to her room, wondering how Bertie felt about her possibly wanting to date women. It didn’t seem to faze her. She shook her head. Strange things going on these days. I don’t even know some things about myself, and everybody around me wants to tell me who I am.

  There was no way she’d be able to sleep. Too many thoughts bounced around in her head, crashed into each other, and kept her all keyed up. By the time she showered and climbed into bed she’d half convinced herself to tell Griffith everything and ask for her help. She’d played out so many scenes in her head. How Griffith would be disgusted with the idea of her past and call the law down on her. How she’d spend the rest of her life in an orange jumpsuit, watching reruns and eating gruel.

  Or that Griffith would be on her side and try to ferret J.B. out of his liar’s nest and bring him to justice. How she’d stand in front of Adi and call him out on the things he’d made her do. Her two-page spread of his inglorious history as a drug dealer open in front of them while they dined on the finest food Adi could prepare. His angry, red face as he was taken into police custody.

  But none of that would happen. It couldn’t. She didn’t trust the situation with Griffith enough to give her the truth. She needed the security of her deception. Even more, she needed to sleep. She finally gave up and switched on her radio, letting the music carry her out of her head and into sleep.

  She was skipping up the pier, looking forward to seeing Rachel at the store. Papa had promised to take her this afternoon, and she knew she should be happy, but something was sitting on her chest, making her feel like crying instead of laughing. Something she couldn’t explain, but it got stronger and stronger the closer she got to the bait shop.

  When she was six feet away, her feet seemed to stick to the worn wooden boards of the pier. She looked down in panic to see why it felt that way. Her feet were melted into the wood, her shoes now one with the planks below them. When she pulled to loosen them, they stretched and elongated, making her legs look like the giraffe she’d seen on TV. Finally, she pulled hard enough to pop one foot up. It snapped back into shape without any pain but stuck fast when she set it back down.

  Seized by terror at what was happening to her, she screamed, cried out for Papa to come help her. She pleaded with God to send him out of the bait shop. She watched the door, hoping to see him coming. When it finally began to open, relief flooded through her. But there was something wrong. The door, which normally swung freely open, was sticking to the frame, stretching just like her feet. She saw someone on the other side, pushing with their back to the door.

  “Papa, Papa, help me,” she cried.

  The door opened fully, but the person pushing it stretched out and exploded. A mist of red wafted toward her, bathing her in its sticky brilliance. Blood. Everywhere she looked, bright rivers of red blood all cascaded toward her. She felt the first wave of blood touch her and shrank back from it. But it was no use. It flowed up her legs, swarming around her knees and into the bottom of her shorts. Soon she was covered from the waist down in the cloying, sticky mess.

  “It’s going to strangle me. If that blood reaches my neck, it’s going to suffocate me.”

  She screamed again, calling for her papa. He was there, coming through the door. He put his foot into the cavity that had been the other person’s chest and walked quickly toward her. He would save her. Now he would save her.

  He walked toward her, raising his hand. A gun? Why does papa have a gun? The blood was almost to her neck. “Papa, please!”

  There was a flash and she flew backward, pain slicing through her.

  Adi sat up clutching her chest, sweat making her shirt cling to her. Her pulse raced, and she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths.

  That didn’t happen. It was a dream. She felt wetness on her cheeks and knew she’d been crying in her sleep. I can’t let him find me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Griffith walked out onto the dock at the Jeanerette Canal landing a little after ten. It was already hot, and the bayou made the air steamy with humidity. She wiped at the sweat trickling down her forehead and looked back at Adi, near the truck. She’d been quiet on the ride here, not saying more than a few words. Her eyes were puffy and bruised looking. I guess she’s not a morning person. I’m not going to let it ruin this glorious day. She’ll perk up.

  Griffith looked out at the water. This place was surreal; the bayou looked like a scene from a campy “alligators are going to eat you” horror flick. There were trees in the waterway, their bases covered in green lichen. The classic Spanish moss hung so low on the limbs it brushed the water’s surface in places. Cypress knees poked above the water here and there.

  It was just a little eerie, and it couldn’t have been any further from her life in LA than if she were on the moon. If it weren’t such a beautiful sunny day, she would’ve turned around and headed back to her hotel room in New Iberia. Sighing, she walked back to the truck to help unload the boat.

  “Wow, canoes have changed since the nineties. This thing looks pretty high-tech.”

  Adi laughed. “Not really. It’s just borrowed some old ideas from kayaking to make it lighter and easier to maneuver. Come on, let’s get her in the water.”

  Griffith and Adi off-loaded the canoe. It was nice how easily they worked together. No co
mmunication necessary, just easy. They slid the long shell into the still water. It barely disturbed the surface. Adi steadied the hull as Griffith climbed in. She was happy it went as smoothly as it did, since she really didn’t want to be gator bait. She hadn’t been in a small boat in years. The bright purple hull was solid and the molded seat was comfortable enough.

  Adi leaned forward and handed her an oar. “Here you go. I usually paddle up to Lake Fausse Point. It’s about a two-hour paddle. That’s what you’re going to want to see. We can relax there for a while and then make the paddle back in about an hour and twenty minutes, with the tide. Does that sound okay?”

  “Sure. It will feel good to get a workout.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  As they glided along the bayou, Adi pointed out various landmarks to Griffith. Some were manmade, others purely natural. It was abundantly clear to Griffith that Adi loved the bayou.

  “You know what the Chitimacha say about the Teche?”

  “The Chitimacha?”

  “The native people that originally inhabited this area. They’re still here, and very much a part of what makes this area unique.”

  “Really? What do they say about the Teche?”

  “In their folklore, when the tribe was strong, there was a huge venomous snake. It was so long they measured it in days it took to walk its length. The snake was an enemy of the people because it was swallowing their way of life. One day their chief called together the warriors and bid them to kill the snake. They had only clubs, spears, and arrows to kill it, but swore they would succeed. It took them days and the snake twisted and turned in the fight. During its last death throes, it slowed and flattened, lying still at last. The Great Spirit flooded the place of its death with life-giving water, and the tribe flourished. The bayou Teche is proof of the snake’s exact position when it breathed its last breath.”