“That was some snake, huh?”
“Yeah. I love those old folk tales. My dad used to tell me all sorts of tales when I was a kid.”
This was the first time Adi had mentioned her father. Griffith carefully navigated around the casual slip. “Did he? My dad was always at work when I was a kid. I don’t remember him being around much at all.”
“That’s too bad. My dad was a shrimper. He took me out with him on the Gulf as often as he could. Those were good days.”
“Sounds like it. My mother was always there for me growing up. I could count on her, no matter what.”
“That must have been nice. It’s that way with me and Bertie. I know she’s always in my corner. She’s all the family I’ll ever need.”
“What about your mom? Was she in your corner?”
Griffith sensed the stillness her casual question created. Damn. You pushed a little too hard, McNaulty. Hoping to break the tension she said, “Wow, what kind of bird is that? It’s huge.”
Adi rewarded her effort by looking where Griffith pointed. “Oh, that’s a blue heron. Aren’t they beautiful? You’ll see plenty of them while you’re here.”
“I’m glad. I like them. What do you think about when you travel the bayou? When you’re alone, I mean?”
“All sorts of things, I guess. Sometimes I think about the restaurant, or something new to try on the menu. Sometimes I think about things I can do to thank Bertie. Mostly, I just think about how peaceful it is here. How I don’t have to worry about things.”
“Do you worry a lot?”
“Some. Not as much as I used to. When I was younger, I always worried that someone might try to take me away from Bertie. Make me go live with strangers or something. Now those worries are behind me.”
“Bertie is pretty amazing, huh?”
“Heck yeah. She’s a truly wonderful person.”
“Hmm.”
They paddled along silently, watching the wildlife and listening to the unbelievably loud croaking of the bullfrogs. Before long, the bayou widened out into Lake Fausse. Here the trees were incredible. They could paddle right up to their trunks. All sorts of birds were everywhere.
“Look, over there.” Adi was pointing to the east. At the top of a cypress tree was a large nest. “That’s a bald eagle nest.”
“How can you tell?”
“By the size and location. If we’re lucky we might catch sight of the nesting birds.”
“That would be amazing.”
They stilled their paddles and drifted between two large tree trunks, watching the nest. As they watched, an eagle flew gracefully across the waterway and landed on the nest. Griffith’s arms broke out in goose bumps and she caught her breath. Again, she was reminded just how far she was from LA. It was such an elegant bird, in such a serene place.
“Here, let’s have a bite to eat and rest a while. I didn’t bring anything too fancy, just sandwiches and trail mix. Oh, and water.”
Adi passed her a sandwich and a water bottle. The setting, the food, and the company were all so perfect. She enjoyed being around Adi, around the calm she projected and the way she made such a simple life look so inviting. What is it she’s hiding? Why can’t this simple life be her story?
Griffith shook her head. It didn’t matter how nice this was, how nice Adi was. What mattered was the truth. She owed it to herself, and to Dawn, to find out what Adi’s issues were before they printed a big feature piece. The hard questions were still ahead, and with a little luck, she could get the answers without losing this connection. Adi could be a real friend if they could get past the hard stuff.
“Adi?”
“Huh?”
“Tell me about when you first met Bertie. What was it about her that made you trust her?”
Adi was quiet for a long moment as she thought. “I was just a kid, you know? I didn’t think about whether or not I could trust her. She saw me, she got me up, fed me. I don’t know. I just knew I was safe.”
“Why? Why did you need someone to make you safe? What was chasing you?”
“I don’t want to talk about that. I already told you.”
Griff decided to lay her cards on the table. Around here, that seemed to be the way to go. “I know what you told me, but I still have to ask. It’s what I do. I need to know, for me. I have to be sure that when we print your story, Dawn’s magazine can stand behind it.”
“I don’t care what you need for your story. I don’t talk about that time. That’s not me anymore. I’m done talking about it now. Let’s talk about something else.”
Griffith could hear the anger in Adi’s voice and wished she could see her expression to know just how upset she was. If she wasn’t careful, she could get her California butt dropped into the swamp.
“Okay. Fine. Let’s talk about something else. What do you want to talk about?”
“Let’s talk about you for a change.”
Griffith laughed out loud. “Me? Okay. What would you like to know?”
“What made you want to be a reporter?”
“That’s a fair question. I guess I’ve always loved people’s stories. Even as a kid, I wanted to know about other people. What made them who they were. I loved asking the questions that got them talking, maybe because I didn’t have stories of my own. My life was pretty classic Americana. No drama, typical family. Maybe I was looking for heroic people to fill my subconscious, I don’t know.”
She took a chance on upsetting the canoe, and shifted to look back at Adi. The intensity she felt talking about herself was reflected in Adi’s eyes. “One thing I do know, I’m good at my job. I’m good at it because I care. I want to know everything because I genuinely care about the people I write about. It has come back to bite my ass, but I care. I think people’s stories should be heard. Not just the big names, or the stuff everyone gets to hear about. The real stuff, the things that matter, the parts that make someone who they are. What makes you who you are, Adi?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean you’re probably the only twenty-two-year-old in the world who doesn’t have a vibrant life on social media. When I Googled you before coming here, I couldn’t find a single thing about you. That’s unusual.”
“Oh, well, I don’t really have a lot of time to spend on the Internet. We don’t even have a computer at home. I like to spend my free time like this. Living real, not virtual.”
“No computer at home? Wow, I have my computer with me most of the time, and if not, I have my smartphone. It’s essential for me to be connected.”
“I’m connected, just not with electronics. I’m connected to this place, to other places I’ve explored. I don’t know. I just don’t feel compelled to be online. It’s not what’s important to me.”
Griff thought about that. It was refreshing to think of life without constant information overload. Refreshing, and maybe a little bit scary. “I’ve had friends in LA go on technology vacations. You know, no Internet, no TV for periods of time, but I’ve never known anyone who just wasn’t connected. It’s so different.”
“It works for me. I think if I did all of that, I’d be stressed out all the time. I like the pace of things here. I’ve got everything I need.”
“Interesting,” Griff said. She turned back around and slipped her paddle into the still water. “Let’s go. I’m ready to see more of this beautiful place.”
Adi dug in as well and the craft began to move across the lake. When they neared the eastern edge of the lake, the marsh grass thickened and only a narrow strip of water cut through.
“This looks like fun. Is it navigable?”
“Most of the time it is. It leads back into Bayou L’Embarras. We could go, but we won’t be able to turn back until it widens out. That will be a bit of a haul.”
“But it looks like so much fun.”
“Looks can be deceiving. I got stuck in a weed row like that so bad once I had to back paddle for almost an hour. Believe me, we don’t want to do that. We could head up
to the state park, though. The waterway narrows down there, but not quite so much. There will be gators up that way, if you want to see them.”
“Okay, that sounds like fun.”
They headed north and west to the park and saw about a dozen alligators along the way. It made Griffith nervous the way they sat in the water with just their eyes and nostrils showing. Adi assured her they had nothing to worry about.
By the time they made it back to the canal landing, Griffith could feel the ache of a good workout in her shoulders and arms. She’d be sore tomorrow, but she wouldn’t have missed this adventure for the world.
“Isn’t it going to be hard to be on your feet cooking all day tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’ll feel it, but it will pass. I do this pretty regularly, you know.”
“Well, I know I’m not picking up a single thing tomorrow. Thank you for this day, Adi. I really had a great time.”
“You’re welcome. I’m usually on my own out there. It was nice to have company. I…I’m sorry about earlier. I know you’re just doing your job. I hope we can be friends?”
“Sure we can. I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me your story someday. I get that you can’t right now, but let’s not close the door on that. Please?”
Adi nodded but didn’t say anything else. It was something, anyway. Griff didn’t have a ton of time, and she got the feeling it was going to be slow and steady movement with Adi. Toe the line. We’ll get there.
*
Adi stretched her achy shoulders before getting out of bed. The trip with Griffith yesterday had been a lot of fun, but she would be paying the price for it today. At least she didn’t have sore legs to go with her arms. She wondered how Griffith was feeling this morning. She would check in with her later. It was nice to have Griffith around. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt around her. The invitation to go canoeing had slipped out without her thinking about it, and she’d desperately wanted to back out. But when Griff had shown up, all smiles and light, the doubts vanished. Instead, she’d been filled with nervous excitement and had wanted to make sure Griff had a good time.
The idea of a reporter following her around and prying into her life had been so unappealing, but the reality wasn’t so bad. If only she could trust Griffith not to write about her past and at the same time, get her help finding out about J.B., she might just get the freedom she wanted. She felt so disconnected to the child she had been, and she realized that being around Griffith had made her aware of how far she’d come. But the risk to her loved ones was real. Too real to disregard. She’d have to make sure there was no chance they’d be hurt.
Consciously, she knew she wasn’t really responsible for Ransom’s death. That was on J.B. It would be his word against hers if it ever came down to it. But running away and hiding for all this time would reflect poorly on her. And if the truth came out, J.B. wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Until they all were. No, there was no way she could ever let anyone find out what she’d done. As much as she wanted to see if Griff could help, it wasn’t worth the risk.
Time to get moving. The day won’t wait forever. She hopped up and hit the shower. She would put all thoughts of that time out of her head and just be in the present. She dressed in her jeans and a T-shirt and went into the kitchen.
“Yum. It smells good in here,” she said.
“It should. There are hot biscuits in the oven and grits on the stove. Get yourself a plate and have some breakfast,” Bertie said.
“Thanks.”
Adi loaded her plate, poured some coffee, and sat at the table with Bertie.
“So what did you do with your day off? Did you go to the community center and play some bridge?”
“Nah. Those old folks make me tired. I went down to Louis’s house and watched his grandbaby for a couple of hours. He had a doctor’s appointment and you know how his girl relies on him to watch little Clayton.”
“He must be getting pretty big now, huh?”
“Aw, he’s just about the perfect age. Old enough to get around on his own, but too young to talk back. He’s pretty easy to take care of. How was your boat ride with the reporter?”
“It was fun. She’s awfully easy to be around too.”
“That’s good. Did she ask you too many questions?”
“No, just a couple I couldn’t answer.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t answer? What you mean is you wouldn’t answer. You’re going to have to let go of the past, sometime. There’s a thing about hard history, the letting go is almost as painful as the living of it. I know you regret the things you were made to see and do. We all got regrets. Thing is, you can’t live on them. I worry about you keeping all that nasty stuff bottled up. Griffith is here to tell your story, and the restaurant’s, of course, but your story even more. This is your chance, girl. Time to take a hold of the rest of your life. You know there was a reason those folks ended up at the Pot. A higher hand directed them to our door. You can’t ignore that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I just can’t talk about that time. You’re the only one I’ve ever told. It’s just too complicated.”
“Well, at least think about it, Dink. It would be good for you to not carry that weight on your own. Maybe she could help you. I know you’re worried about what your father’s going to do. You’re scared he’s going to come up here and hurt you, me, everybody. He might. He sure might, but isn’t he hurting you now? Isn’t he keeping you small when you’re meant to be so much more? Thing is, by not speaking up, you’re leaving other innocent people in danger. You just have to find a way to bring the whole sorry mess to light. Griffith might know the way. That might be why she was led here.”
“It’s too risky.”
“Risk is the backside of happiness. You can’t have one without the other. I know one thing for sure. You are gonna bust open if you don’t let that stuff go. I can see it bending your soul, plain as day. If you don’t figure out some way to come to grips with it and resolve it, you’re going to regret it. It will break you.”
“Bertie…”
“Bertie, what? What? I’m telling you the truth, Dink. It’s getting worse every day. You have to do something. You need to find a way to be in the world, girl, not just on it.”
Adi swallowed the last of her bitter coffee, savoring the chicory tang. She rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
“I don’t want to talk about this. I’m off to Johnson’s to get the crawfish. I’ll see you at the Pot.”
“All right. If that’s how you want it. I’ll see you later.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Griffith looked at her computer screen. Am I doing the right thing? I know there’s something in her past that Adi is afraid of. It could be abuse, but her instincts said there was more to it than that. She felt like she was betraying the fragile trust Adi had shown her by even thinking about running a search, but she hadn’t lied. She’d told Adi that she had to have the facts, for Dawn, for the magazine. It still felt wrong. If only Griffith could get Adi to tell her where she had been before she landed at the Boiling Pot. If she knew, she’d be able to decide if it was appropriate to write about it. They could talk about it. As things stood, Griffith was handicapped by Adi’s reticence.
A simple computer search might help her piece together Adi’s childhood. She now knew that Adi’s father had been a shrimper. That limited her search to over 100,000 commercial shrimpers along the Louisiana coast. Adi arrived at the Boiling Pot on a bicycle, making it more likely that she came from one of the communities due south of New Iberia. She’d probably taken the coastal road, which meant the most likely towns would be the ones back south, toward the Gulf.
Griffith pulled up a map of the area on her laptop. Where did you come from? There were several possibilities along Highway 90. Morgan City had a fairly large shrimping community, and Berwick and Patterson also had active shrimping communities, though smaller. If she kept going down the coast, eventually Highway 90 l
ed to some much smaller communities. Should she start looking? Griffith had never hesitated researching her subjects. Not even with Tabitha. She’d been stymied by Tabitha’s machinations, but she did her best to get the truth. Why am I feeling so conflicted? I’m just doing my job.
Griffith typed in Morgan City. After a minute’s hesitation, she hit the enter key. She searched missing teenagers/Louisiana and found a registry of missing persons. It would be tedious, but this was the kind of research she was built for. Finding the connections that led to her story took time and effort. Griffith was determined not to shirk her responsibility to get it right this time. She read through the entries, narrowing the window for disappearance to late 2007 to early 2008.
Inputting her parameters brought her twenty-seven pages of results. It would probably take her a week to go through the list just once. Questioning whether it was worth her time, Griffith grabbed a notebook and got down to work. After three hours, she leaned back and rubbed her aching eyes. Her list of possibilities was short, only a handful of girls the right age and description for Adi so far. She needed a break, and something to eat.
She contemplated going back to the Boiling Pot, but she wanted something different tonight. She opted for a hibachi joint down the street from her hotel.
The restaurant was cozy but clean. The shared tables were mostly busy, which she took as a good sign. She put her name on the list then headed to the tiny bar for a beer. She had taken one sip when someone placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. T’Claude Michaud was standing beside her.
“Hey there. You aren’t scouting a new place for your story, are you?”
“No, not at all. Just having dinner. How are you, Mr. Michaud?”
“Now, come on, call me T. I’m good. This is a good little place to eat too. Can I buy you dinner?”
Griffith looked at him, gauging his motivation. Was he interested in her or just being considerate? If it was the former, she would have to be clear that he wasn’t her type. His warm smile alluded only to friendship.
“Well, that depends.”
Bitter Root Page 7
