Allie's Bayou Rescue

by Missy Robertson

  No one said anything.

  I swallowed my French toast bite, took a swig of tea, and cleared my throat.

  “We were wondering the same thing. He has red hair like Ruby, so she thought maybe he’s a family member we haven’t met.” I walked over to the stack and picked up the family reunion picture. “He’s in this picture too, with you and Papaw and our dads, I think.”

  Mamaw moved over next to me and stared at the picture.

  “That little rascal . . .”

  Hunter just kept chewing away, oblivious to the mystery that—I hoped—was about to be solved. We girls all focused our gaze on Mamaw, who looked like she was getting a little grumpy.

  “That boy . . .”

  She stomped across the room to get a tissue.

  Maybe she’s not grumpy, maybe she’s sad.

  “That boy was the only human on earth . . .”

  She wiped her nose.

  What? What? What?

  Mamaw shook her head. “Why aren’t y’all eatin’? Is somethin’ wrong with the French toast?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Ruby said. “We just can’t wait to hear who the boy is.”

  Mamaw pulled up a stool. We all leaned in. Well, all except Hunter, who was finishing up the pile of French toast.

  Mamaw sat down and rested her chin on her clasped hands.

  “That boy’s name is Andrew Doonsberry. He lived just up the river, but you’d think he lived at our house, since he was here all the time—driving me nuts, sneakin’ his face into our family pictures. I called him ‘Doomsberry,’ because every time he was around, there was trouble.” Mamaw pointed at the picture. “You see this photo? It makes my blood boil! That tent is made out of my favorite Thanksgiving tablecloth. The rascal stole it out of my storage shed! He took ’em all—Christmas, Valentine’s, Easter—and made tents, blankets, and knapsacks out of ’em! Those tablecloths were heirlooms passed down from my Great Mamaw Emily. He denied it, of course, but look at that tent! It’s got a cornucopia on it!”

  Now even Hunter was fully engaged in the story.

  “Are you talking about the haunted shed? The one up the hill from here? By the barn?” Hunter looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

  Mamaw shook her head and hid her face in her hands for a minute. “It’s not haunted. Your dads and I started that rumor to try to keep Andy from goin’ in there to steal more of my stuff.”

  Andy.

  Mamaw looked up and put her hand to her heart.

  “We even started a story—that there was a demon alligator in the shed who ate twelve-year-old boys. One day, your dads took Andy up to the shed, made a bunch of groanin’ sounds, and knocked over a bunch of boxes. Then they told him that the gator ate . . . your dad, I think.” Mamaw pointed to Kendall. “He would have been about twelve at the time.”

  “Wow. That must have been scary,” Hunter said.

  All of a sudden, Mamaw looked sad.

  “It was. In fact, we never saw Andy again after that day. I had to ask God to forgive me. He was the only human on earth who I had trouble forgiving, and I promised that if he ever came back, I would do my best to try to really love him.”

  Romans 12. Where Mamaw wrote Andy’s name.

  Mamaw’s face brightened a bit.

  “It was so bad that I couldn’t bring myself to buy another tablecloth. Ever.” She looked up at us. “I suppose that sounds silly to all of you, right?”

  “Not really,” Ruby said. She put her hand on Mamaw’s. “I always thought you just loved placemats better.”

  Mamaw patted Ruby on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad I was able to clear up the mystery for you.”

  You have no idea.

  Papaw came in through the kitchen door just then, and walked over to the cupboard to grab a plate. “What are all y’all doin’ in here eatin’ when there’s shovelin’ to be done?” He walked around the island and sniffed. “The problem here is I smell the best French toast in the world, but I don’t see any. Hunter, did you eat it all?”

  Mamaw went over and gave Papaw a hug.

  “I’ll make you all you want. I’m just glad you’re back safe.”

  “How was the sleepover with the grandkids?”

  Mamaw laughed. “I wasn’t here. You’ll have to ask them.”

  CHAPTER 29

  For Sale

  Uncle Wayne drove his big truck out to Mamaw’s house and brought us all home that afternoon.

  “How did y’all like the flood? You know, one time the water came all the way . . .”

  “Up to the porch,” we said in unison.

  “Oh, you heard that story?”

  “A few times,” I said.

  Uncle Wayne nodded. “Well, it’s a classic.” He pulled into our driveway and pointed to a new sign in our front yard. “Hey! Check that out!”

  It was the most horrific sight ever.

  For Sale.

  Bayou’s Best Realty.

  Tears filled my eyes. I covered them with the sleeves of my hoodie.

  Lola leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I knew it.” She put her arm around me. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Tell that to my parents.”

  Uncle Wayne got out of the truck and grabbed my bag out of the back.

  I jumped out of the side door and stood in the driveway. For a split second, I considered taking off and running back to Mamaw’s. A pace that didn’t change.

  I took my bag from Uncle Wayne.

  “Did you know anything about this?” I asked him and tipped my head toward the sign.

  He shrugged. “I know your parents have been considering selling the house. Guess they decided to pull the trigger. Kind of exciting if you ask me.”

  Sure. If you call cactus exciting.

  The garage door was open, and unfortunately, both my parent’s vehicles were there. Uncle Wayne jumped into his truck, put it in reverse, and inched backward. “See ya, Allie.”

  The back driver’s side window slid down, and Ruby stuck her head out.

  “Text us! We’ll meet in the Diva and come up with a plan. I’ll bring cookies.”

  I worked up a small smile and waved goodbye. My cousins waved back. I imagined the day that I would be in our car, pulling out, waving goodbye . . . for good.

  I stood there, in the driveway, all alone. A few drops of rain started to fall on my cheeks. Good. If I was mostly wet when I walked in, no one would suspect I’d been crying. I thought about running again, trying to disappear where nobody would find me, but then I realized that was the opposite of what I really wanted to do. I wanted to stay in this place. Forever. With the people I love.

  “God, help me to know what to do right now. I feel like throwing a temper tantrum, possibly taking an axe to that sign. But would that really help anything?”

  Go inside, Allie. Change is a good thing, you’ll see. Your parents love you.

  This was another time it was going to be hard to obey that voice. But I did, after I went over and kicked the sign.

  “Allie?” Mom called out to me from the sofa, where she was sitting next to my dad, watching a movie. Dad pushed pause on the remote.

  “Well, it sounds like you kids had a little more than you bargained for during that sleepover. Come on over and tell us about it!” Dad scooted over, leaving me room to sit in the middle of the very people I was mad at right now.

  I put my bag down and stepped in a few feet.

  “I’m wet. I should go change.”

  “Nonsense.” Dad waved me over. “We can handle a little water. It’ll add some special effects to your story.”

  It was clear I wasn’t getting out of this. I dropped my bag on the floor and made my way over to sit in the gap between my parents.

  “We’re so glad you’re safe,” Mom said. Then they both reached over to hug me and kiss me on the cheeks.

  I put my arms out. “Okay, okay! I have asthma, people, remember? Give a poor kid some air.”

  Mom laughed and pull
ed back.

  “Speaking of that,” she said. “Did you have to use your inhaler last night?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “It was tons of fun. I huffed and puffed like the big, bad wolf.”

  “And did it work?” Her eyes searched mine, and I looked away so she wouldn’t see the pain and anger.

  I crossed my arms. “Yes, ma’am. It cleared my lungs up right away, but it made my hands shake. It was kinda freaky, actually.”

  “Well, as long as it worked,” Dad said.

  “Hey,” Mom said, and she patted me on the knee. “We have a surprise for you.” I couldn’t hold the frustration in anymore.

  “Does it have to do with the for sale sign that’s out in front of the house?”

  Mom’s eyes opened wide.

  “What? There’s a sign?” She turned to my dad. “Jake?”

  Dad jumped up off the couch and ran out the front door. He returned in seconds.

  “Yep, there’s a sign out there. I can’t believe they put it up already.”

  “Well,” I said, “that’s what you get when you hire Bayou’s Best Realty.”

  “Oh, dear. We had planned to talk to you about it first, Allie. Some things are about to change around here.” Mom was smiling, and I was struck with a little déjà vu since that was the exact same wording she used when she told me that Hunter was going to be adopted.

  I gripped the couch cushion tight.

  You can handle this, Allie. Whatever it is.

  “Are we moving into the Joshua model? Should I start reading up on how to grow cactus? Or are we moving to Timbuktu?”

  “Well,” Dad chuckled a little and stroked his beard. “As a matter of fact . . . we are moving to Timbuktu.”

  My stomach did a flip and I think it landed in my throat.

  “Dad, that’s in Siberia or something. You can’t be serious.”

  He pointed his index finger in the air. “I beg to differ! Timbuktu is right around the corner.”

  I looked over at Mom, who was beaming. “Come with us.” She reached her hand out to lift me off the couch, and I followed my parents out the front door. It was still drizzling, which is nothing for Louisianans.

  We walked past the for sale sign, and the plastic container, which held informational brochures about our house. A smiling Ellen was pictured at the bottom—still wearing the butter-colored suit.

  We continued out of our front yard and across the street, over one small hill, until we came to a large empty lot near Kendall’s house.

  “Allie Kate Carroway—my princess daughter,” Dad said, “you are standin’ on what will soon be a brand-new cul-de-sac in the neighborhood. Welcome to Timbuktu Court.” Dad put his hands out and turned in a complete circle. “I’m kinda proud of the name. I picked it myself.”

  I looked around. At dirt. I scratched my head.

  “Huh?”

  “We’re building a new house! Isn’t that great?” Mom punched her fists in the air and cheered. I half expected her to bust out a cartwheel or two.

  “A new house? For us to live in?” A few butterflies started to fly around in my gut, but I tried to ignore them while I pulled in a bit more information.

  “Well, who else do you think we’d build a house for?” Dad put his hands on his hips.

  “Allie,” Mom said, “we decided that instead of trying to mold-proof our old home, we’d build a new one—with beautiful new flooring and materials that won’t add to your allergy problems.”

  Everything finally made sense, and I felt the dark cloud that had been hanging around my heart disappear, leaving room for some hope and light once again. I flew into Mom’s arms, and then the sobs came.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Then I just cried for what seemed like an hour.

  You were right, God. You had this under control the whole time. I don’t know why I ever doubted you.

  Dad came over and joined our hug. “We don’t really know the timeframe yet, but we decided to put the house up for sale now since it’s a slow time in the market. If we do sell the house before the new one is built, we might have to move in with the cousins for a while. That’s the bad news.”

  I pulled my face away from Mom’s soaked shirt, sniffed, and wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Bad news? I thought we were moving hundreds of miles away from the cousins. Living with them instead is the best news ever!”

  “Ha!” Dad bent over laughing. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

  “I will, Dad. And thank you.” Then I hugged him.

  “I love you, Allie. I told you I would do anything to rescue you. And I always keep my word, which is why we’re moving to Timbuktu Court—lickety split.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Duck Blind Dedication

  A week later was Hunter’s “official” adoption day. And as I predicted, it was pretty boring for us kids, with lots of standing around at the courthouse, paper signing, and family photo sessions. We filmed a little, too, for an episode of Carried Away with the Carroways.

  “My collar is scratching me!” Hunter pulled his stiff white dress shirt collar and green tie away from his neck. “How come it’s so hot today?”

  We all stood there, on the steps of the courthouse, pulling our clothes away from our hot skin.

  “Are we done filming yet?” Ruby asked, as she pushed her lacy green dress sleeves up past her elbows. “Where’s Hannah? I need to ask her if I can change into my T-shirt and jeans.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Hey, don’t you people forget, we have the new duck blind dedication later. And you can wear whatever you want.”

  “I can’t wait,” Hunter said. “I think after that I’ll finally be able to call myself a real Carroway.”

  “Hunter, you’ve been a real Carroway this whole time! You were a Carroway before we even met you. God planned it, you know.” I lightly punched him in the arm.

  Hunter smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I did feel like we had a bond from the first day we all met. And then, during the flood, when all that crazy stuff was happening and you were all in danger, I just knew in my heart, that no matter if I got lost, or hurt, or if I had to do something uncomfortable to rescue one of you, I’d do it. No question. Because you’re my family. Lickety split, I’d be there for any of you.”

  I froze on the steps. “Wait, Hunter. What did you just say?”

  “I said I would be there for you. You’re family.”

  “No, before that.”

  “Lickety split?” Hunter smiled. “Oh, that’s just a saying that means super-fast.”

  “I know what it means. My dad says it all the time.”

  “Ours does too,” Lola added.

  “And ours.” Kendall put her arm around her new brother.

  “Well,” I said, “it sounds like a Carroway thing. What do you think about naming our new duck blind ‘The Lickety Split?’”

  Ruby gasped. “It’s perfect! And think about this! Remember when that alligator had a hold of my coat?

  Lola shuddered. “How can we forget?”

  Ruby continued, “And Kendall cried out to Jesus for help?”

  Kendall grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I sorta screamed a little bit.”

  “I was praying too,” I said, “while I was laying there in the mud, being no help at all.”

  “What about me?” Hunter said. “You better believe I was praying when I dove on the gator’s back.”

  “And I was crying,” Lola said, “and praying that I wouldn’t lose my sister.”

  “Well, then,” Ruby said, “I’d say God certainly rescued us, lickety split, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess that settles it.” I crossed my arms and nodded.

  “We’ll see you this afternoon for the dedication of The Lickety Split.”

  It was the most amazing day ever. I arrived early for the dedication, and as I climbed the pink-and-purple painted wooden steps, I wondered what the new colors would
be. Or if we would even have these steps in the new duck blind design. I entered our girl-haven, raised the awnings to let in the late afternoon sun, and plunked down in the turquoise glitter beanbag for possibly the last time.

  God, thank you for speaking to me about changing this place to honor Hunter. It wasn’t easy to obey, but I know it was the right thing to do. You’re awesome, God.

  “California, here I come!”

  “Little Red!”

  “Doe, a dear, a female dear!”

  I jumped up and poked my head out the window.

  “You’re all here on time? Together? This is a first!”

  “I brought homemade cookies.” Ruby held up a basket.

  “Well, get up here!”

  I heard the squeak of the gate and seconds later, all the girl cousins were sitting in their regular girly places.

  “Hey, Allie, how come you never say your password, huh?” Kendall had her hands glued to the straps of her messenger bag.

  “Uh, probably because I’m always here first? So I’m kinda like the gatekeeper?”

  “What is your password? I don’t even remember.” Lola raked her fingers through her shiny bob that looked like it had a new, darker-shade-of-pink streak.

  “It’s Allie-gator.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ruby said. “Seems like you should change that, given the events of the past week.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Change seems to be a good thing these days.”

  Just then, a gummi frog came flying through the window. This time, it didn’t hit anything. It just shot in one window and out the other side.

  Kendall poked her head out the window. “That will be enough frogs for now, Brother.”

  “Oh, good. You’re there!” Hunter yelled. “Just checking. I’m here with my password … Gator Buster! And I don’t want to change it.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said, “given the events of the past week. Come on up!”

  Hunter squeaked through the gate, ran up the stairs, and entered the blind, carrying his bucket of candy frogs and a cardboard tube clamped between his arm and torso. “I got the plans from Mr. Dimple at the courthouse. Wait till you see what The Lickety Split is going to look like!”

  He popped the plastic cap off one end and started to shake the rolled-up plans out of the tube, but I put my hand out to stop him.