by Smith, C. P.
When he’d stayed with Nic, and Hope had hung out with them, they’d behaved themselves, only brief touches and no kissing. Even though he’d kissed Hope at the bar, he didn’t want to shove his relationship in his son’s face in case it upset him in any way. As far as Nicky was concerned, Nic and Hope were just good friends so to speak, taking it slow in his eyes, getting used to each other. He had no doubt his son was well versed on the details of sex, but he didn’t need it thrown in his face, and that wouldn’t have happened if Kat had called before dropping in.
When he reached them, he bent down, snagged their clothes off the floor, and when he saw Hope’s lacy bra on the kitchen counter, he dropped the clothes on top to cover it. Kat raised one of her sharply plucked eyebrows at him in response, and he narrowed his eyes in warning.
“What’s going on?” Nic asked Kat.
“Well, I knew with Nicky leaving in a week’s time you wouldn’t get to spend much time with him while he’s at your parents, so I thought I’d let him stay with you until he leaves.” Nic was shocked she’d be that considerate, and immediately went on the defensive waiting for the punch line—he didn’t have to wait long. “And since it is technically my week, I figured we could just share him and eat our meals together; spend the evenings together just like old times. Doesn’t that sound wonderful, sugar? Our family back together again.” There it was, Nic thought, another desperate attempt to win him back, but this time using their son to do it.
“Outside,” he growled then looked at Nicky and said, “Stay here, we’ll be back in five.” Rounding his son, he grabbed Kat’s arm and pulled her with him to the front door.
While Nic dealt with Kat, Hope had gotten out of bed, found one of Nic’s dress shirts, and pulled it on. She needed her clothes, but wanted to wait until the coast was clear. Listening through the bedroom door, she heard Nic’s loud voice say “Outside,” and then the front door open and then close. With her heart hammering in her chest, she cracked the door open a tiny bit, listened, heard no voices and crept down the hall. Peaking around the corner, she saw no one in the living room or kitchen, and the condo was quiet. Her clothes were on the kitchen counter, and she sprinted to them so she could get back to the bedroom before being caught. As she grabbed them, she heard a noise and looked left, catching Nicky bent at the waist and his head in the fridge. He looked up, their eyes met, and she froze. Her eyes were glued to his as her cheeks turned red, and she silently prayed to God to kill her now. Nicky stared back at her, and she watched as his lip twitched like his fathers and then smiled a huge Nic like smile.
“I, uh, I think I’m gonna go die now.”
Nicky’s smile got bigger, and he rolled his eyes “Like I don’t know my dad is a babe magnet, he has lots of friends.”
“What?”
“His struggle is real,”
“His struggle?”
“Fightin’ off all the babes who are after him.” Hope's eyes widened, what she didn’t do was head back to his room to put clothes on, an error she would regret.
“He has lots of friends?”
Nicky figured if Hope thought that he was a hot item, she would be impressed that she’d caught him, so he lied, “Oh, sure, dozens of them.” He watched as Hope’s face paled and then she ducked it, clearing her throat.
“Well, that’s good he has so many, uh, friends, I’ll just, um, head back to my condo, nice seeing you again, Nicky.”
For some reason Nicky got the impression she wasn’t impressed, in fact, he got a sick feeling that he may have screwed up. He watched Hope hesitate, then with the bar blocking his view, she bent at the waist pulled her jeans on from the night before, grabbed her purse, shoved her top, bra and panties inside, found her shoes, and stalked to the front door.
“Hope wait!” Nicky panicked as she reached for the doorknob. She didn’t look at him; she wrenched the door open and found his dad and mom on the landing, his mother crying and his dad holding her.
Nic was sick to death of Kat’s antics, and when he told her so, she had thrown herself in his arms, crying crocodile tears, and using their dead daughter as a reason to keep him close. When his door flew open, and Hope stepped out, pain evident on her face, he tried to peel Kat off him so he could stop Hope as she flew down the steps. Nicky came flying out after her saying, “Stop; I can explain,” and Nic was done.
He got untangled from Kat, turned to Nicky and asked, “What happened?”
“I told her your struggle was real with the babes.”
“In English,” he barked.
“That you have babes chasing after you and have lots of friends. I thought she’d be impressed that she’d caught you, but she seemed upset.”
Nic sighed and hung his head to reel in his temper and after a moment he raised his head and in a firm, yet loving tone replied, “No more lies, no more hiding shit, and do me a favor, don’t help me with the “babes,” as you call them, I’ve got this covered.”
Then Nic whipped around to deal with Kat in time to see her smirking in victory at the little scene that just played out, and he made a decision. He didn’t give a fuck if it upset her, if she hadn’t pulled this shit none of this would have happened. He turned back to Nic and asked, “You want a family day huntin' crawfish?”
“What about school?”
“Figure they can do without you for one day.”
“Awesome, what Bayou?”
“Honey Island?”
“Sweet, I can be ready in ten,” Nicky shouted and then ran back into the condo.
“Can we stop by the house so I can change?” Kat replied behind him. Thrilled her plan was working. Nic turned around; anger etched on his face and on a low growl explained, “Kat, you crossed me one too many times. I’m takin’ my boy and my woman crawfishin’ you can go spend that alimony I pay you each month on your fuckin’ nails.”
After that parting shot, Nic stormed into his condo, packed his gear and he and Nicky went downstairs and knocked on Hope’s door. When she answered, obviously recovered and moved from upset to angry, she presented them both with a pissed off face. Nicky wasted no time admitting to his lie and blurted out, “Dad doesn’t have friends over, I was tryin’ to make you comfortable, and thought if you thought that Dad was a catch you would like him. I’m sorry; I think you’re great just so you know.”
Hope being Hope melted at his words and forgave him on the spot. “Your dad is a catch that’s why I was upset. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
That fiasco behind them, Nic put his hand to Hope’s stomach and pushed her back so they could enter her condo. Once in, he instructed her to, “Get your old clothes on we’re goin’ crawfishin.” Then he figured since the cat was out of the bag, and Nicky didn’t care; he smacked her on the ass, kissed her on the neck, and then mumbled in her ear, “After we eat tonight I’m having you for dessert.”
Hope choked on a laugh as she made her way down the hall wondering what the hell crawfishing was and if it required her to handle them. She may serve them, but she always insisted that Big Daddy handle them—those beady black eyes gave her the willies.
Chapter Fifteen
It’s hard to explain a Louisiana bayou. The winding the water takes as you go deeper into the prehistoric environment. Cypress trees tall and foreboding, their moss covered limbs blocking the sun in places, lending an eerie feel to their surroundings. The greens of vine flowers that covered some of the trees, even the green covered water was a sight to see. The quiet at times, like the wildlife, plants and trees themselves knew you were there, interrupting their tranquil world. Alligators lying in wait, Herons, perched on rotten stumps, their necks curved towards the sun. Snakes and turtles cresting the surface of the water and then ducking back down as you passed, all were foreign and in some cases a scary world to Hope, but nonetheless beautiful in their own right. She could see how a person could get lost out there, turned around, but also lost in a different way, lost in your own mind. The tranquility of the place lends itself to
solving world hunger, stopping wars or even coming up with a recipe for the perfect gumbo to appease Big Daddy and his quest for perfection.
The roar of the propeller broke Hope from her thoughts, as water lilies rocked in the water as they sped past towards some secret crawfish hole. Nic and Nicky swore it was the best spot for miles, and with the season’s end approaching, they were determined to get one last big catch. Nic’s airboat was loaded with mesh traps, a small cooler with fresh meat and hotdogs guaranteed to attract a crawfish within smelling distance. All was in the front of the flat-bottomed airboat, as Nicky and Hope sat in the middle while Nic drove high above them in the driver’s seat. They were thirty minutes outside of New Orleans at a place called Honey Island, where Nic had a truck and airboat he kept in a storage unit for just such outings with his son. They’d driven down in his car and pulled out the boat, then put in near the swamp tours and watched as the large tour boats filled with people. They’d passed houses and shacks built on stilts with boats tethered to porches that sat right on the water. Nic had called them swamp people, those who lived there year round, and some had been on their porches and waved as they sped past towards their fishing spot.
When Nic came to a bend in the river, he took a right off the main waterway to a narrower inlet. After several hundred yards, he killed the motor, and they drifted onto a bank of solid ground as Nicky jumped out to stop the boat from floating back out. Thankfully, it was sunny where he’d parked, the mosquitoes were forming in the shade waiting to attack Hope and Nic didn’t want her porcelain skin marred by bug bites. Stepping out of the back, his shrimp boots on to protect his legs, Nic leaned in without a word and yanked Hope out of the boat and carried her onto the bank placing her on the solid ground, and she sunk to the tops of her feet.
Solid ground in the bayou isn’t exactly solid, more like squishy mud, and she’d been caught off guard. She didn’t say a word to him at first as he put her down, stealing a brief kiss before heading back to the boat to retrieve the traps. For some reason, he liked carrying her places, but she felt like a child when he did it.
“I could have walked you know.”
“And deprive me of the satisfaction of carrying you?” Nic replied over his shoulder as he handed Nicky a trap.
“You’re a caveman you know that, right?” Nic winked at her as his only answer and continued unloading.
Hope looked around, saw a fallen tree nearby, and decided to sit while she watched the two Beuve men set about baiting, then wading out into the shallows, dropping the mesh traps into the water and then wading back to the so-called bank. When they both came out of the water and stood before her, she knew if she ever wondered what Nic looked like as a kid, she only had to look to Nicky. Even their walk was the same. Now they were standing in front of her, with their hands on their hips, both smiling the same smile and about to laugh.
“What?”
“I hate to tell you this, sugar, but you’re sittin’ on poison ivy.”
Hope jumped from the log to see a green waxy looking vine covering the surface. She’d worn jeans out of habit, but she wasn’t sure she hadn’t touched it. Nic grabbed her arm, and Nicky snickered as he followed behind them. Hope heard it, turned her head and stuck out her tongue turning the snicker into a laugh. Nic stopped near a bag, pulled out liquid soap and ordered, “Wash your hands and don’t touch your face.” When she finished, Nic hoisted the bag back into the boat, turned and without a word picked her up again and placed her in the boat. Then he climbed back in as Nicky shoved them of the bank, climbing in the front, and Hope was confused.
“Why are we leaving?”
“Gotta let them soak for a few hours,” Nicky answered.
“We’ll take a tour of the area, grab some lunch at the “Poor Man’s Shack” and then come back after the crawfish has had time to fill the trap,” Nic added as he leaned in and kissed her one more time for good measure. Now that he could show more affection in front of Nicky, he intended to at every opportunity.
Grabbing a pole out of storage in the front of the boat, Nicky turned the nose of the boat towards the water, as Nic fired up the propeller. The loud thunder of the engine sent birds flying into the air as Nic gunned the engine and moved them back the way they’d came. Once on the river, Nic opened up the throttle, and they went flying on top of the water. After a mile or so, they came to an area with tall grass and Nic turned the boat out of the river and flew across the wetlands. Birds went flying again, and Nicky pointed to an alligator hidden amongst the reeds catching some sun. Twenty feet or so off the right side, Hope saw an animal that looked like a beaver and Nicky hollered, “Swamp rat,” to her questioning eyes. Further up, in a crop of trees, she saw a huge nest at the top of the tree line and was about to ask what kind of bird had a nest that large when a bald eagle landed with some animal in its mouth to feed their young.
It was amazing the different topography in a bayou, wide rivers, narrow inlets, and wetlands teaming with wildlife all within miles of each other. All her life she had this vision of the swamp being just that, a swamp, dark, creepy and mysterious, but their outing today had opened her eyes to the beauty of the place.
Time passed quickly and soon Nic was heading back down the river towards the inlet where they’d set their traps. When he passed the little cove, she looked up at Nic, and he shouted “Lunch.” Further down, he took a right off the river and made his way slowly around fallen trees, past other boats tethered with men eating sandwiches, until a large shack came into view. There was an old man on his deck manning a smoker, and a sign on his dock that said, “Don’t ask and I won’t tell, BBQ sandwich and chips $5.”
Hope raised her brows at Nic, and he grinned. Determined not to ask for fear she would find out, Hope said nothing. Nic cut the engine and glided his boat alongside the porch, and then reached out a hand to shake the old man’s and said “Where y’at, Virgil.”
“Awrite’,” Virgil replied and then said, “T’ree?”
“Three will do, and throw in some Zapp’s.”
Virgil leaned over and opened a cooler at his feet; he pulled out three foiled covered sandwiches, three bags of plain Zapp’s potato chips and handed them to Nicky. Nic pulled out his wallet and handed the man double what the price said, and Hope smiled at his generosity to the old man. The man obviously wasn’t one for conversation, because he took Nic’s money, gave them a salute, and then turned back to his smoker as Nic pushed off the deck and started the boat to head back towards the river. Nic took them back to their fishing spot, and they stayed in the boat while they ate. Slowly unwrapping the sandwich Nicky had handed her, Hope sniffed it and then watched as Nicky took a large bite and then smiled at her.
“Do I want to know?” she asked the boat at large.
“Nope,” Nic laughed and then bit into his own sandwich winking at her.
Pulling the soft, spongy bread apart, Hope looked at the meat, it didn’t look like snake or alligator, and when she sniffed it, it smelled like pork. Not wanting to be a girl and refuse to eat it, she mentally made the sign of the cross and took a bite. Surprisingly, it tasted like pork, but a bit gamey and tough. Nic handed her a bottle of water from the cooler, and she opened her bag of chips while she kept eating the sandwich. It was peaceful as they ate, while Nicky asked questions about mundane stuff until he turned the conversation to Hope.
“So, T-Hope, where are you from?” Without thinking, she answered and could have kicked herself.
“Nevada.”
“Is your family there?” he continued.
“Um, no, they died when I was a kid,” she again answered without thinking, and hoped Nicky wouldn’t ask any more questions about her past. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of growing up in foster care; it just sounded so pitiful, and she hated the looks she got when people found out. Not to mention, there were some who thought if she grew up in the system, she was somehow uneducated, or in some cases a bad person, who’d do anything to survive.
When Nic cle
ared his throat but said nothing, she knew he was holding back. Then Nicky, being his father’s son, meaning he wasn’t dumb, said, “If you didn’t have parents who raised you?”
“A very nice older couple that took in kids who needed homes raised me.” She wouldn’t tell him that the Johnson’s had been wonderful, but so old they couldn’t keep her and the other kids for very long, or that once they turned the kids back over to the state, it had been one bad home after another.
“Like grandparents?” he asked.
“Just like grandparents,” she replied.
Deciding it was time to change the subject, not wanting Hope upset by any more questions Nicky might ask, Nic cleared his throat again as he thought about tiny Hope in the care of strangers. He’d heard some of the horror stories about kids in foster care, and he prayed to God that wasn’t Hope’s story. He’d add that to the list of things he needed to get her to open up about, but patience was something he was sure he would need to have where she was concerned. As far as he could tell, her life had been one bad thing after another, and he intended to rectify that as soon as possible.
After clearing his throat to break the flow of conversation, he nudged Nicky on the shoulder saying, “Time to get the traps.” He then turned to Hope and ordered, “You stay in the boat while we wade out and get them.”
“I need to, um, use a bush,” she answered back, and Nic looked around to see where she could go. About fifty feet inland were a group of bushes she could make it to without any help, so he pointed to them.
“Use those bushes, I’ll wait here and keep an eye out, shout if you need me,” and then he smiled and finished with a crooked grin, “And watch out for poison ivy.”
Rolling her eyes, Hope stood, and Nic helped her off the boat handing her some napkins. She looked at them and felt her face grow warm with embarrassment. She said “Thanks,” and then stomped her way carefully through the swampy mud towards the bushes, mortified they were just sitting there watching her go pee.