Color Blind (15 page)

“Pigs on steroids? Out here? In the swamp?”

“Yep! And meaner than all get out. Must've smelled Baby Goat here. They're thinkin' dinner.”

“Baby Goat, let's get you outta here before anybody or anything else decides you'd make a tasty treat.”

“
Bleat!
”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Grateful that the goat was tiny, I hugged her close with one arm, like a four-legged, furry football. With my free hand, I shined the flashlight at our feet, moving its narrow beam back and forth, looking for any sign of the path. Nothing jumped out at me, which was probably a good thing, given the fact that this place was chock full of creepy, crawly, dangerous things and, of course, people. Lightning slashed the sky. The wind picked up, slowing our progress. The vicious storm brewing in the Gulf was headed our way. I closed my eyes for a moment, felt the hot wind on my skin.
Would the wind be blowing in from the water?

The crashing grew louder. I heard hushed voices.

I whispered, “Angel, I don't know much about storms, but thinking logically—if I'm even capable of logic at the moment—maybe if we walk, or better yet run, into the wind, we'll come to the water and find the boat. It's worth a try anyway. For sure we can't turn back, that'll just take us into the path of those crazies. Let's move on.”

I directed the light at our feet as we moved farther away from the clearing. Exactly where we were going, though, I had no clue. I hoped against hope we were headed in the right direction.

It was slow going for the three of us. Baby Goat, who forever after shall be known as BG, grew heavier with each step, but I couldn't leave her behind. The chickens—well, I was sorry for them, but I believed they had a better chance at escaping capture. At least, they could flap, claw, and peck at potential captors.

The rain hadn't started yet, but it wouldn't hold off much longer. The wind was stronger now; the thunder came faster after the lightning. Which wrath was going to be worse, Mother Nature's or Aunt Kate's? If I didn't make it home before she did, I'd put my money on Kate.

Angel had a tight grip on the back of my shirt, hanging on for dear life. We stumbled through tangles of trees, vines, and roots, swatted at unseen, bloodthirsty insects.

“Ouch!” Another branch grazed Angel's arm.

I stopped and turned the flashlight on Angel. Scratches and mosquito bites covered exposed skin from head to toe. Same for me. There would be no hiding the fact we had gone rogue.

“Angel, I am so sorry I got you into this mess. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't thinking at all. I don't know if I can ever make this up to you or if your mother will ever forgive me. She must know by now that you aren't home. What have I done?”

“Because of you, my mama's gonna leash me up like Gumbo and never let me loose. Your auntie too, I betcha.”

“You got that right. My days of freedom are over, no doubt about it. Which way should we go?”

“Keep goin' into the wind. We've gotta be gettin' close to the water,” she answered.

I turned around, headed into the wind with Angel gripping my shirt. It seemed like hours, but only minutes had passed when we came upon a decaying cabin and a disintegrating dock. Bad luck, no boat. There was no way for me to tell if we were above or below the dock where Marguerite left her skiff. At least we had finally reached the shoreline. I didn't much care if we found her boat or not. At this point, any boat would suffice. I'd be happy to add boat theft to my ever-growing list of transgressions. I needed to get us out of here.

Right or left, left or right? The decision was made when I heard voices coming at us from behind and to our right. Left it was.

“Angel, hear that? It sounds like they're getting closer. I don't know if they're chasing us, or trying to get out of here themselves before the storm hits. Be as quiet as you can. Follow me.”

As we worked our way down the shore, fat drops of rain began to fall.
Perfect, just perfect.
The ground beneath our feet quickly turned to mud. Our sandals made sucking sounds as we slogged along the shore. When lightning split the sky, I could see Marguerite's boat just ahead.

I whispered, “Angel, look! It's our boat. Can you run?”

“Maybe.”

“Let's get outta here!”

Running through the mud wasn't easy, but we did it. Angel settled in the boat with BG while I untied the craft. I threw the rope to her.

“Tie BG up to the hook near the front. I need your help paddling out of here.”

Angel looped the rope around BG, securing her to the hook. I pushed the boat away from the dock, took one of the oars, and gave the other one to Angel. We were on our way.

I always believed animals had better sense than people, especially me at the moment. My belief was confirmed as BG lay down in the front of the boat, curled into a little ball, and tucked her tiny legs under her belly, trying to avoid the rain. Our trip back to the other dock and the Mini was going to be significantly more difficult with a storm fighting our progress.

The wind whipped at our small boat as we paddled, hopefully in the right direction. It was taking all of my strength; it was doubtful that Angel would last much longer. I was quite proud of her. She hadn't fallen apart no matter how frightened she was. If truth be told, Angel did better than me. She had tried to talk me out of this “adventure,” but I wouldn't listen.

No doubt about it, I'd been totally reckless.
Oh, my God, Marguerite's Tarot card reading was right! I have made reckless decisions and I have faced challenges. And, I'm still facing them! To make matters worse, I dragged Angel along for my ride! Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God!
What have I done?
I put my mental brakes on. This was no time for self-flagellation. There would be plenty of time for that later.

We had only the flashlight and intermittent light from the homes on the shore to guide us through the storm to our dock. We paddled hard, fighting our way clear of tree roots and logs to more open water. Time to start the motor. I yanked the cord, got only a sputter. I yanked again—another sputter. With every ounce of remaining strength I had, I yanked a third time; the motor caught. We took off with a jerky start. I'd never piloted a boat before, and it wasn't as easy as it looked. I had real trouble getting my sea legs.

Over the raging wind, Angel hollered, “Hey, city girl, you ever done this before?”

“Never!”

“Move over. Let me do this. I can get us outta here.”

I handed the tiller over to Angel, moved out of her way and withdrew my cell phone from my pocket to see if I had reception. I turned the phone back on; amazingly, it had bars. There were several texts and voicemails from Miles, even more from Kate. She wanted to know where I was, if I had seen Angel. Simone had called to say her daughter was missing, she had called the police.

Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God!
I started a text:
Angel with me. Don't worry. Coming home.
But before I could hit SEND, my bad luck kicked into overdrive. Our boat ran over a log and the phone, slick with rain, flew from my hand and disappeared into the churning swamp.

Heavy rain started to fill the bottom of the small boat, adding the very real danger of sinking to our escape. Drenched and windblown, BG was probably scared out of her little goat mind, but she was mercifully quiet. I turned my face into the squall and spotted a hazy light up ahead. I prayed it was the right wharf and that we'd be in the car, on our way home, soon. It was.

A fierce blast of wind slammed the boat against the piling as Angel tried to dock. Struggling to balance myself, I held on to the rotting wood as I worked to tie up the boat. Mission accomplished. I untied the soaking wet BG, tucked her under my arm and scrambled up the small dockside ladder after Angel. Spent from the physical and emotional rollercoaster ride, Angel sat down and cried. I helped her to her feet with my free hand.

“Angel, you did great! Your uncle would be so proud of you! I certainly am!” I wrapped my arm around the shivering, sobbing child. “Come on, let's go. We need to get out of here.”

Angel snuggled close as we hobbled against the wind and rain to the car. I opened the door, buckled BG into the back and watched in horror as the soaked goat pooped on the soft black leather seat.
Perfect! Just perfect!

Angel climbed into the front seat, buckled up, and leaned against her headrest. The last one in, I took a minute, closed my eyes and thanked the universe for leading us back to the right dock. I buckled up, started the car, threw it in reverse, skidded against the wet gravel, and headed away from Prosper's Fish Camp.

All I wanted was to be back at Kate's house, cozied up in my nice four-poster bed, wearing dry clothes, with tonight behind me like a bad dream instead of the living nightmare it still was.

There would be no stop for either gas or car wash. There was no getting Angel back home without her mother finding out. There was no getting back home without Kate knowing. None of the things I had planned or thought would be simple had worked out, not by any stretch of the imagination.

There would be absolute hell to pay when I got us back to The Big Easy.

Except for providing directions back to the city, Angel was silent on the car ride home. I didn't much feel like talking either. I had some serious thinking to do. Would it be possible to spin this? Make it look not so hideous? Doubtful. Both of us were drenched, wounded, and worn out from the ordeal. Angel was sneezing and shivering; I hoped she wasn't getting sick, but knew she was. I didn't feel so good myself. The near-hurricane had ended and moved away from us. However, a Category 5 storm named Kate lay just down the road, waiting for my return.

Let me review.
What exactly did I do today? Nothing good, that's for sure. I lied to Kate about staying home and then I stole her car. I lied to Simone and then I took her daughter into a dangerous situation. I'd turned off my phone, something Kate had specifically asked me not to do ever again. Then, I lost the phone in the swamp, so nobody could track the GPS. Angel had been reported missing and now the police were involved. That pretty much sums up most, but not all of my day. Oh yeah, and how was I going to explain the goat? Gee, Kate, what was I supposed to do, let Machete Man sacrifice BG to the Loa? That alone would most definitely invite a whole new round of questions and criticisms, not that it would be unjustified. In hindsight, I had not used good judgment. Or any judgment at all, for that matter. Quite simply put, I was screwed and I had done it to myself.

Where should I take Angel? If I take her home, I will have to explain everything to the police, who were probably at the house waiting with Simone. If I take Angel to Kate's house, I will have to explain everything to Kate. Police or Kate? Kate or police? What kind of trouble will I encounter if I go directly to Angel's house? Is Kate's house the lesser of two evils? Kate won't be in any frame of mind to help me, but she might want to help Angel.

I looked over at my new cousin. Angel was dozing with her head resting on the door. She looked younger and more fragile than she had earlier today. I hoped I hadn't scarred her for life with this
misadventure
of mine. Everyone had hunkered down for the storm. There was no traffic to speak of and I made good time driving back to the city.

“Angel, wake up. I need your help to get through the city and back to Kate's house. I don't know where I'm going.”

“I wanna go home. You said you'd get me home before my mama knew I was gone,” said Angel in a soft, sleepy voice.

“Well, honey, I think your mama already knows you're gone. She called Kate. I think it will be better if Kate takes you home.”

“What! When? Gimme your phone. I wanna call Mama and let her know I'm okay,” cried Angel.

“Uh, I lost my phone in the swamp. We'll be at Kate's in a few minutes, you can call her from there.”

“You lied! You said everything would be okay, we'd get back before my mama knew. You lied to me and now I'm gonna get in trouble because of you. You're a bad, bad girl.”

“I'm sorry, Angel. I can't tell you how sorry I am that I got us into this mess. You're right, everything is my fault and I don't know how to fix it. I don't think I can.”

Of course Angel was right.
I am a bad, bad girl. Exactly when did I go wrong?
I was pretty sure I'd have plenty of time to reflect on my horrible self later, but first, I needed to get Angel to Kate's, then back home to her mother. Angel didn't speak again except to direct me through the city. When we got to Jackson Square, I knew it wouldn't be much longer.

“Um, Angel . . . I have one last favor to ask of you . . . would you mind not telling . . .”

Angel turned and stared at me in disbelief.

“Never mind, forget I asked. I'll figure something out.”

I was two blocks from Kate's house when I spotted red and blue flashing lights reflecting off of rain-streaked windowpanes and pavement. I slowed the Mini. At the bottom of the next block I could see several police cars, a big, black SUV with tinted windows and a NOPD K9 unit van. Everyone was milling around, speaking rapidly into walkie-talkies. It looked like they were in the throes of organizing a manhunt or an Amber Alert or something. I looked past the vehicles. Kate was speaking to Detective Baptiste, who was totally in command of the situation. Miles stood on the porch holding Simone's hands, trying to comfort her. Gumbo barked frantically at a bloodhound, probably Miles's dog Nosey, who paid him no mind. The German shepherds sat still, silently waiting for their orders.

Oh, I am so busted.

Angel's eyes grew wide. “Mama! There's my mama! Oh, I'm gonna get it for sure. And, you . . . you're gonna get it, too. Your auntie's lookin' a lot like those chickens in the swamp, all flappin' mad.”