Note.

This book is set in a time and era of ethnical and political confrontation. Care has been taken that NO offensive language is used. The laws and history have been carefully researched and used in their original context.

ALIEN ENCOUNTER

Part 2

Something is going on.

 

11:32 PM, Sunday, April 3, Point Beignet, the beach.

There is a silvery crest on the dark blue waves running up on the beach’s white sand. The two empty bottles in the sand reflect the light from the full moon that's shining over the sea. Lord Nelson has his beak under his left wing. I fill up my chest with cold air, hold it for a moment, and then I slowly release it. Thoughts about why I drink so much fill my mind. I glance at the bottles on the sand, look at the one I have in my hand, and then I sip some beer.
Some clouds are blowing to the west, outrunning the moon. Finally, I’m going to open my restaurant, the big moment has come, but instead of feeling happy, I feel nervous. The thoughts about my drinking habits, the pills that the doctor gave me, what Frank did, the Sheriff threatening me, all of this turns into a wild orchestra in my head. “Thank God I got Ma helping me,” I mumble before looking at the moon through the bottle. “Are they really going to put a man up there?”
A soft, cold breeze blows in from the sea, and for a moment, I feel cold. I stroke my cardigan with my right cheek while hugging myself. The warmth comes back again. I have another sip, but the bottle slips from my hand onto the sand. The bubbly, yellow liquid is quickly absorbed. I pick up the bottle and look at the bottle neck that's covered with wet sand. “You should go and sleep.” But then the loud orchestra of thoughts starts again, and I feel a pain in my stomach, “What if everything goes wrong? Like it always has.” This makes me get up from my deck chair and walk up the path, carefully avoiding stepping on any stone with my bare feet. Lord Nelson doesn’t notice that I’m leaving; he is still sleeping.
My hand fumbles when I open the refrigerator door. A bottle of Dixie beer smiles at me, so I put my hand on it, but just as I’m about to take it out of the refrigerator, I fix my eyes on the slim Stolichnaya Vodka bottle lying in the back of the shelf. A moment passes, but then I take a deep breath and smile, “Goodbye!” The refrigerator door closes with a click, and I have the Dixie in my left hand.
Once back on the beach, I make myself comfortable in the deck chair and open the bottle. I raise it to Lord Nelson and try to imitate the voice of an old British sailor, “O ye ol seawolf, this here’s to the mermaid’s new life!” Lord Nelson doesn’t move, and I have a drink of beer. “I’m sure as hell not going to give up!” Instantly, the memory of Sister Desiree turns up, the nun who slapped me in the face for swearing. My eyes stare at the bottle and try to imitate her voice, “Betty Lee, you are always going to be a poor, stupid girl, always. Don’t make the Lord go angry on you for misusing his name.” Then she had slapped my face a couple of more times. Since then, the rest of the girls started to call me stupid, too. I shrug my shoulders and look out at the sea. I touch the little silver cross that I always wear around my neck and try to remember my parents. My father’s face is blurry, but I can clearly see the smiling face of my mother, with her blond hair and blue eyes. I smile, and my heart feels warmer, but then I remember that I will never see them again. “Why did you have to go?”
Lord Nelson jumps up and starts to quack. When I look at him, he flies down from the dock and lands just next to me. He is flapping his wings and running around me.
“Hey, what do you want, a big fish? One of those big, oily, Spanish Mackerels that’s in the refrigerator?”
He continues to jump around, and after moving his head from one side to the other, he points his beak towards the sea. I quickly finish the bottle and throw it next to the others. My right hand grabs the grip on the Combat Magnum, but I don’t take it out of the large pocket on my jumpsuit. If Lord Nelson has become so nervous, there must be something out there in the sea, but what? I move my eyes from left to right. Then I notice that Lord Nelson is looking upwards, “What do you want to say, old boy, is there something in the sky, a Soviet rocket?” I smile at him and giggle. My giggle dies away when I notice the strange light. Far out there, a small, greenish light has appeared. For a moment, I wonder if it could really be a rocket, maybe they’re testing something new, something shot from Cape Kennedy?” But it moves too slowly to be a rocket, and there is no sound. Lord Nelson calms down and puts himself close to me on my left side. We both watch as the strange object comes closer and closer. When it lowers down over the sea, I realise how big it is. It must be at least a hundred and seventy-five feet in diameter and twenty feet high. I’m about to pull out the revolver, but something tells me not to. Then the huge, metal disc stops right over me. Lord Nelson immediately flies away to a safer place. But I have no wings, so I look up at it. Slowly, the greenish light that engulfs it turns blueish. And when it does so, strange images appear in my mind, images of women being led into something, in a different place. I start to feel dizzy and put my hands on my head. I can barely keep up right. I’m swaying from one side to the other, then I fall to my knees. Even stranger images appear, some kind of underground tunnel.
When finally the light changes back to greenish, I have no idea how long I have been on my knees. Slowly, the disc starts to move, but then it stops right over my restaurant. I manage to get up on my feet and look at it. “You must find out what it’s doing here.” My voice is just a whisper, but I keep repeating the same phrase to myself when I slowly walk up the path. I step on various sharp stones, but I can’t feel anything. When I’ve managed to walk around to the other side of the restaurant, the disc starts to move again, this time towards the swamp. The normal noise from the insects and the frogs has died away. When the disc is at the tree top level, I collapse. Lying there on the ground, I see how it disappears into the swamp. Then everything becomes dark and cold.
Something is pushing me violently. When I open my eyes, I look into Lord Nelson’s small eyes. He quacks and pushes me some more. I force myself to get up from the ground. I still feel sick and dizzy. “Thank you.” Lord Nelson waves his wings. I wait for a minute, and then I glance at Ma’s house, but there is no movement; she hasn’t noticed anything.
I manage to drag myself up the stairs and reach the back door of my restaurant. When I stumble in, I open the last drawer of the desk and look at the little paper box with the pills, the pills to forget. I take a deep breath and push the drawer closed. My eyes find the refrigerator. This time, I take out the vodka bottle. The bottle is ice cold. I pour myself some vodka and then gulp it all down. Fire enters my throat. I try to focus my eyes on the clock that’s over the desk, but I’m unable. The visions from that faraway place turn up in my mind again. The visions turn into dead and tortured people. I hear them screaming. My hands start to shake, and sweat is dripping from my forehead. I grasp the desk with both my hands as the clock disappears and an image of a woman with blood all over her body appears before me. I shake my head and start to scream, “Go away! Go away!” I pour some vodka into the glass and lift the glass, but my right hand is shaking so much that it falls to the floor and breaks. I get my hand on the bottle and manage to lift it to my mouth and drink. Other, even more horrible images appear around me. I’m no longer in the restaurant’s kitchen, but a place where large creatures with reptile skin watch the people suffer. Somehow, I manage to put the bottle on the desk and open the last drawer. The little, white box falls from my hands and lands on the floor next to the broken glass. I cut myself on the hand when I pick it up. I get one of the pills out of the box and put it in my mouth. “Just one, never more than one, he said,” I stammer. One of the creatures draws closer to me, “Get away! I’ll kill you!” My hand grips the revolver in my pocket, and I pull it out. Instantly, the scene changes, and I’m back in the restaurant’s kitchen.
When my breathing finally calms down, I manage to see the clock. It’s well past midnight.
My hands are still shaking when I lift the bottle and have a drink. I spit it out when I remember that the medicine couldn’t be mixed with alcohol. Devastating, that’s what he had said, that doctor. I drop into the chair next to the desk, exhale, and look at the mess on the floor. The cut in my hand is not too large, there is just a little blood, and there is no glass stuck in it. It hurts when I pour some vodka on it. I’m glad I didn’t step on the broken glass with my bare feet.
Lord Nelson is quaking outside the kitchen door. It sounds like he wants to know if I’m well. “I’m fine,” I try to shout, but I can’t. “Maybe he wants his fish?” I mumble to myself. Using all the force that I have left, I reach the refrigerator and take out a mackerel for him. I struggle to reach the backdoor. Lord Nelson has flown down to the path and looks up at me. I throw him the fish, and then my strength disappears. My hand reaches for the wall, and I try to support myself, but then I slip and fall on the stairs, hurting my side. I feel two warm hands on my shoulders. “Ma, is that you?” Then everything becomes dark.

8:36 AM, Monday, April 4, Point Beignet.

“What has happened to you?” Ma slaps me in the face with all her force. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” She slaps me again. “I found you all drunk here, on the stairs!” She lifts her hand again, “I looked in through the door, there’s broken glass in there, a vodka bottle, and down on the beach I found several empty beer bottles. What have you been doing?”
“Get away from me!” I wave my hands in the air to defend myself.
“Something bad could have happened to you!” She points at me with her gnarly finger, “You imagine what could have happened if you had been found by that Sheriff and his Deputy, or those two men, those from Alabama?” She strokes her mouth with the palm of her hand and lowers her voice, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Getting drunk all by yourself, like, I don’t know what… Ashamed!”
I look at the cut in my hand, feel the pain in my right side, then I try to look back at the door, but it hurts, “I, something happened…”
“You got blood on your face!”
My eyes lose themselves staring down the stairs. I slowly move my head from side to side several times, and then I start to beat myself on my head with both fists, “Leave me alone.” My voice turns into a scream, “I haven’t done anything bad!”
Ma grabs my wrists to prevent me from beating my head, “You’re crazy, girl! Completely crazy! You must see a doctor!”
I stop moving my hands and look up at her with tears in my eyes. “Doctor… I don’t…”
Ma pulls on my arms to get me up from the stairs, “Come on! Get up now, do as I tell you!”
I wrestle with her to get free from her grip, but she is strong; she won’t let go of me. I stop struggling and shake my head, “I don’t want to see any more doctors,” my voice is low. Then I bite my lips, “Please?”
“Girl, get up!”
I shake my head several times.
“Why?”
“You don’t know what happened?”
“I do! You got drunk! You were having fun!”
“Go to hell!” I start kicking my legs and wrestle with her to get loose.
“What did you say?” She let go of me and steps down from the stairs.
“Go to hell!” I shout at her as loud as I can. “Go to hell! You don’t know what happened!”
She turns around and starts walking, but then stops. She is still for a moment, but then she looks over her shoulder, “I thought you were dead! Do you hear? Dead!”
I watch her disappear around the corner. Then I start to beat myself again, I stop and cover my face with my hands, and cry.
When I stop, I get up from the stairs, wipe my tears, and slowly walk down to the beach. Just next to the deck chair, I stop, take out my revolver, and throw it onto the chair. The jumpsuit lands next to the revolver. I look at the big bruise on my right side. It doesn’t feel like I have any broken ribs. The other big bruise on my hip, made by the revolver, is turning violet. I pass my left palm over my face and look at the dried blood that’s on it, “What happened?”
After taking a deep breath, I slowly walk out into the sea. When it reaches my hips, I stretch out my arms and let myself fall backwards into the cold water. The cold water wakes me up, and I look up at the sky, “It’s so blue.”
There’s a big splash. Lord Nelson has just landed close to me. There we are, an old pelican and a blond woman floating in the sea in silence. Watching the clouds, I suddenly remember that someone touched my shoulder before I passed out. I blink a couple of times, my heartbeat increases, and my wide-open eyes move from side to side, “Who could it have been?”

7:21 PM.

The sun is painting the sky red as it’s setting in the West. I take the bottle of vodka in my left hand, check that I have everything in my pockets, and then I walk out the door and onto the porch. I stop for a moment, take a deep breath, and sigh, “Go on, don’t stay here.”
I walk over the turnaround and stop when I reach the small path that leads up to Ma’s house. For a moment, I stop, hesitate again, but finally overcome my doubts and set foot on the path. There’s no movement inside the house, no smell of food, nothing. “Come on, do it,” I mumble to myself. “Ma!” I hold up the vodka bottle in the air. “I promise not to drink any more vodka!”
Nothing, no movement at all inside the house, just dead silence.
I’m getting more nervous when I think that maybe I have lost my only friend forever. “Ma! I was stupid! Please, come out! I want to talk to you!”
Nothing.
My hands start to shake. I’m about to have one of those attacks. “Ma! Please!” The first tear rolls down my cheeks. I wipe it away with my left hand. “I was stupid! I’ll tell you what happened!”
There’s still no movement.
“Look!” I pour out all the vodka on the path. “I promise I won’t drink any more of this!” My body is shaking, and my heart is beating faster. “Please!” I throw the bottle on the path and bury my face in my hands. “Please, I’m so lonely,” I mumble. I wipe away my tears and scream. “Ah! Please!”
There’s not a single movement inside the house, not a sound.
I fall to my knees and cry hysterically. “Why do you do this to me? Why? Why?” My hands tremble when I try to wipe away the tears. “Damn you for leaving me alone.” I snivel, wipe away some tears, and then I start slamming my fist on the path. “Damn you all for leaving me alone!” I shout. Then I collapse onto the path. My whole body is trembling, and I cover my face with my hands.
The door creaks when Ma opens it. She looks out, hesitates, and then she steps down from the low porch and walks down the path. Crouches and pulls on me. “Daughter, come on, get up. Get up, please.” She pulls on me again and manages to sit me up.
I can’t stop crying. “I can’t breathe, Ma.”
She kneels down next to me and hugs me. “Daughter, I don’t know where you’ve been before coming here, but it must have been a hellish place.” She strokes my hair. “I won’t leave you, I promise.”
I try to look at her, but her face is blurred by all my tears. “You, you won’t…” My lips tremble, and I can’t finish.
Ma hugs me again. “I promise I won’t leave you.”
I close my eyes and cry.
Ma strokes my hair. “Welcome home, daughter, welcome home.”
I get closer to Ma and hug her too.

9:42 PM, the restaurant’s porch.

I finish what’s left on the plate and then look at the Dixie bottle.
Ma smiles at me. “Finish it.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I promised not to drink any more, and…”
Ma holds up a finger. “Listen, Betty Lee, I don’t know when you started to drink, and not why either. When the time comes, you’ll tell me. But what I know is that it’s not easy to stop drinking. So we’ll do it like this: if you want to have a beer, you ask me permission, and you must promise me not to drink anything stronger than that. Do you promise?”
I smile at Ma. “I promise.”
Ma gets up from the table. “Now you finish your Dixie, and I’ll wash up all this.”
“I’ll help you!”
“No!” Ma holds up her hand. “You finish that bottle, I’ll clean up, and then we’ll have some ice-tea, what do you say?”
“Thank you.” I blink and smile at her.
“Daughter, you’ll see that soon you’ll have a great restaurant and be happy.” Ma puts the last of the plates on the tray.
My lips tremble when I hear her.
Ma sees my reaction. “Just have that beer and calm down.”

11:47 PM, my bedroom.

I hug the pillow and silently start to talk to myself. “Mum, Dad, I finally found someone who cares for me. I promise you that I will do all I can to make this my new home.” My mother’s face appears in my mind; she’s smiling at me.
Then I fall asleep.

8:17 PM, Tuesday, April 5, Point Beignet Seafood restaurant.

“Well, that’s it.” There’s a click when the new padlock clicks closed. I pull on the shed’s door a couple of times. Then I drop the key into the left side pocket of my jumpsuit, take off my headscarf, and look up at the sky. The first stars are visible, and the moon is floating over the sea. The whole of Point Beignet is smelling of Air-O-Zone. I feel proud of having cleaned the whole restaurant, the kitchen, the bathrooms, tables, and finished painting the back of the restaurant. All the old bottles and cans that had lain in the grass are now in the garbage, and the old grass clipper that was in the shed has come to good use.
I feel happy, so I take a couple of dancing steps and walk up the kitchen stairs sideways, like Ginger Rogers. My hand slides over the new, smooth, white paint on the railing. When I reach the kitchen door, I turn around and look at Lord Nelson, “Hey! Come on and give me an idea on how to attract a lot of customers.”
Lord Nelson looks at me with his small eyes and quacks a couple of times.
“You’re right! I must get people from other places than the town! That dammed idiot of a Sheriff and his stinky Deputy won’t mess with people they don’t know. How about a publicity campaign?”
Lord Nelson moves his head from one side to another.
“Okay, so how about trying to get big groups here, you know, weekends, what do you think?”
The old pelican quacks again.
Then it hits me, “New Zion Baptist Church!” An idea of having the churches come for good food and drink on weekends comes to my mind. Visions of people enjoying French-style restaurant service at a special price make me smile. “Hey! You’re right! Quality food at the lowest price possible, lots of customers, and that’s how we’re going to make money! Like the fancy ones up in New Orleans!” I slam my fist on the railing, and then I grin from the pain. I rub my right hand a couple of times before I rush towards the kitchen back door.
In the blink of an eye, I have changed from my jumpsuit and boots into a pair of baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, and over that my checkered blue and white shirt. My sandals go on, and then my revolver, keys, wallet, and the rest end up in the big pockets on my Levi’s. The shirt hides it all. Ma won’t notice what I’m carrying around.
I have a quick look at myself in the large mirror. My freckly face smiles back at me, and I fluff up my blond hair a little. For a second, I remember the nuns' voices, “Girls, you should always, always, always brush your hair every day.” That’s why I stopped doing it so often, just as I never use lipstick. My smile goes away when I remember that night after Frank had smashed the bottle on the fat man’s head at the Bonfire. The boss had told me to put on some lipstick, but when I saw myself in the mirror looking like a strawberry, I wiped it off.
Back in the kitchen, I pull on the back door to check that it is locked and bolted. I switch off all the lights except for the one I have put up out on the porch, close and lock the entrance, take a deep breath, and walk down the stairs.
Ma is sitting outside in her rocking chair listening to the radio. She looks distressed. When she sees me, she waves to me.
I wave back to her, “How are you doing? Everything well?”
She gets up from the chair and turns off the old, wooden radio, “I just heard that some monk has burnt himself to death in that place called South Vietnam.” She scratches her nose a couple of times and looks up at the stars, “Why did he do that? No man should go earlier than the time the Lord has given him here.”
I step up on the porch and give her a little hug, “You’re right about that.”
Ma hugs me back, and then she looks at me and holds up two fingers.
My eyes quickly look away from her, first at the old planks on the porch, and then I glance at the swamp.
“You’ve earned it. I saw you working hard all day, just go and sit down with that old pelican. Dream, girl.”
“Are you sure I can?”
“You can. But just two,” she scratches her nose again. “Give him a fish.”
“Thank you, Ma.” I hesitate for a second, “You know, I call him Lord Nelson.” I turn around and walk towards the restaurant. When I’m halfway, I glance over my shoulder and see that Ma is holding up two fingers. I do the same, smile, and continue to walk.
Once inside the restaurant, I lock the entrance, watch how Ma is picking up her old radio, and go inside her house. I wait for a minute to make sure that she doesn’t come out again, and then I walk into the kitchen and take out two bottles of beer and a fish from the General Electric.
Just as a precaution, I leave the kitchen door unlocked, just in case that flying disc would appear again.
Lord Nelson’s small eyes are fixed on me when I walk down the path; he must have sensed the smell of the Red Drum. He moves his right wing a little and quacks. I reach the dock, step up on it, and throw him the fish. He skilfully catches it with his big beak in mid-air.
I put down the two open bottles of Dixie on the low dock, take off my sandals, and sit down next to them. My feet are almost touching the water. When I stretch my right leg a little, I manage to get my toes into the cold, dark water. Carefully, I move a little closer to the edge of the dock and put my feet into the water, then I sip some beer and think about what Ma said to me about having earned this moment. It feels good to have someone watching over me. My feet are making small waves on the water when I move them from one side to the other.
The full moon has passed, and there are almost no reflections on the water.
I have another sip of beer and start to think about what I saw the other night. Could it have been some kind of new Air Force aircraft? Of course, they would keep it secret, after all, we’re in the Space Race with the Soviets.
The picture of me working in that ice-cream bar in New Orleans in ’57 turns up in my head. A man with big glasses and a white shirt had burst into the bar screaming to me, “Turn on the news! The Russians have launched something into space!” The whole bar had turned around and looked at him, and then they had all looked at me. There was a lot of noise coming out of the radio when I was turning the knob. Finally, I found the news. The radio man had sounded hysterical,” The Soviet Union has today launched what they call Sputnik! It’s a man-made satellite orbiting Earth. It is sending out a Morse code message!
A woman with cat glasses had looked at her two daughters, who had stopped eating their ice-creams, “Lord, have mercy on us, I hope it’s not atomic!” Another family had hurried out the door and into their car, leaving the coffees and ice-creams on the table. A bald man in a blue suit sitting at the counter had put down his coffee and looked at me, “What if those communists can launch an atom bomb on Washington now?”
We were all scared then. That little thing, sending a Morse code high up in space, had changed everything. All of a sudden, there was no safe place on the planet.
I never told anyone that my mother could speak Russian. She was born here, but her mother had fled the Soviet Union and managed to come to America; that’s why I’m blond, the freckles had come from my dad, he was a mix of Irish, Italian, and God knows what more. I stroke my hair back and smile.
Sitting there looking at the sea, with Lord Nelson already asleep, my thoughts shift to thinking about how I’m going to pay back the loan I took to buy the restaurant. It spins into a dreadful scenario where I have to go back to work in bars like the Bonfire and live at a place like the Flamingo Motel. The memory of the small refrigerator full of Frank’s bottles and our Campbell’s cans stocked next to it makes me finish the first bottle fast.
“Why do I always think of the worst outcome?” I whisper to myself before biting my lips and having a drink of beer from the second bottle. I think about it for a moment and then continue to whisper to myself, “That’s what life taught you, that’s what they taught you at school, and that… that…”
“Drink up your beer and go home and sleep.”
My hand is in my pocket, gripping the Combat Magnum before I glance over my shoulder, “Ma?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to see that you were drifting off into those old memories that torture you, that’s what makes you drink, you know.”
I let go of the gun and pick up the bottle, “You want me to throw it away?”
Ma smiles at me and shakes her head, “No, you finish it, you earned it today. But I want you to know that you can come and talk to me any time you want, daughter.”
When I hear Ma calling me “daughter.” I stare at her and finish the whole bottle of beer before a tear falls from my eyes. It’s like I’ve been hit in the stomach by a boxing glove. My lips tremble, and I drop the bottle on the dock. Then I try to wipe away the tears.
Ma steps up on the dock and pats me on my shoulder. Then she strokes my hair and gives me a hug. “Easy, girl, easy. Things are going to get well, both the restaurant and your mind.”
I put my arms around her tiny body and hug her too. The tears don’t stop falling from my eyes, “I’m sorry, I, you know…”
“You never felt loved in your whole life; that’s what’s wrong with you.” She pats me on the shoulder, “You go home now, lock the door, and get a good night's sleep.”
“Ma…”

6:33 AM, Wednesday, April 6, Point Beignet Seafood restaurant.

I open the front door and look at the thick mist outside. The cold air from the sea has met the heat from the swamp. A quick check of my pockets, and then I pick up my coffee mug and walk outside. I put down the mug on the table that is in the corner, from there I can see everything, well, not exactly, Ma’s house has disappeared in the mist, and only a small portion of the turnaround is visible.
The chair feels cold. I button up my thick wool cardigan and put my hands on the hot mug. I sip some hot, sweet coffee, stir it again with the spoon, and have another sip. Now it’s just perfect. A new day is beginning, a day to prepare the best restaurant, but first, I stretch my legs. Ma made me go to bed early yesterday, and today I feel grateful for that. Normally, I wouldn’t be up at this hour. I draw a deep breath, the air is cold, and then I smile, “To hell with everything I once knew. Yes, sister Cecile, I’m swearing.” When I think about what I just said, I laugh, just a little, but still I’m laughing.
My hand grips the revolver in my pocket. Something is moving close to the large trees next to Ma’s house. I get up from the chair and try to make out what it could be. I stare into the fog. But I’m unable to see what it is. It seems like two small shadows moving around among the brushes and trees. A gust of wind from the sea makes a hole in the mist, and for a moment I see the thin black girl and the white girl.
The white girl pushes the black girl.
“Don’t do that again!” The black girl’s voice is angry, and she is pointing her finger at the white girl who’s wearing a long dress.
The mist rolls in again and hides them, but I can hear them giggling.
“I told you to stop!”
It’s the black girl's voice again.
“Why don’t you try to stop me?”
They must be playing, playing in the middle of the mist. Their blurry figures move towards the turn back while keeping close to the trees all the time, as if they didn’t like to be seen.
For a second, I think about calling out to them, but maybe I would scare them. Then I hear them giggle again. The mist is moving around with the wind. Sometimes I see them clearly for a second, and then they disappear.
I try to make out what they are talking about, but the mist muffles the sound of their voices.
“Why would anyone let their daughters go out at this hour in the morning?” I whisper to myself.
“Don’t do that!” It’s the black girl's angry voice again.
The white girl says something, but I can’t hear it very clearly. I think I heard something, maybe, it can’t be, could it be, “love”?
A new hole in the mist, and I see how the two girls disappear down the narrow road.
I wait for a moment, and then I sit down and think about what I’ve seen and heard. When I stir my coffee, a cold wind blows in from the sea, and I wrap my cardigan around me and shiver. The coffee makes me feel warmer.
My eyes move from the swamp to the turn back, and my mind is full of thoughts about all the strange things that I’ve seen in the last few days. Slowly, I finish my coffee and sit there with the mug in my hands, thinking.
A strong breeze sweeps in from the sea and pushes the mist into the swamp. The table is lit up by a ray of sunlight. I cover my eyes with the palm of my hand and look up at the clear blue sky. It seems like we’re going to have another wonderful day down here on the coast.
I get up from the chair and stray into the restaurant to get some more coffee.
When I come back out, most of the mist has disappeared. The sun is warming up the air quickly, so I take off my thick cardigan and hang it on the chair. I make myself comfortable and have some coffee.
Ma’s door is creaking. I glance at her house and wave at her when she steps out. She waves back to me and has a look around.
I jump up from the chair and walk over to the railing, “Hey! Why don’t you come over, so I can invite you for some really good breakfast?”
Ma looks at me and then back into her house.
“Come on!” I wave at her, “You’re invited! You always take care of me, so now it's my turn to take care of you! Please?”
She’s still for a moment, thinking I suppose, but then she closes the door and starts to walk towards me. “I’m coming, I’m coming. So let’s see what this new restaurant owner can put before a discerning client.” She steps up on the porch and smiles at me, “Good morning, Betty Lee. Did you have a good night's sleep?”
“Yes, I had.”
Ma doesn’t say anything; she only holds up two fingers.
I blink and smile at her. Then I pull out a chair and offer it to her, “Have a seat and enjoy the sea breeze. " I’ll go and make us some breakfast.”
“Thank you, Betty Lee.” Ma looks up at the sky, “This is going to be a really nice day, lots of sunshine, lots of time to make those last repairs, fixes, improvements.” Ma sits down and makes sure that her white, curly hair is all properly tied up in a knot.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I pick up my mug and walk into the restaurant, and then into the kitchen.
The thick, heavy cast-iron skillet lands on the stove with a clang, and I turn on the heat. Eggs and bacon go into it. The toaster’s electrical wires heat up, and the loaves of bread turn golden, the kitchen fills up with the aroma of freshly made coffee, the cheese and Louisiana sweet orange marmalade land on the tray.
I balance the large tray through the kitchen door, the entrance, and finally it ends up on the table in front of Ma.
She leans forward and smells the coffee, “Girl, I, well, I never smelled a coffee like this. Smells like it had a lot of flowers. Where’s it from?”
“Indonesia.”
“Indonesia?”
“Yes, you know it’s in South East Asia.” I pour her a cup of coffee.
Ma picks up the cup with both her hands and smells it, “My, this is really nice. I heard about the country on the radio sometimes, but I didn’t know that they produce coffee.”
“I got it up in New Orleans. I keep it for special occasions.”
“Having breakfast with me is a special occasion?”
“Yes, it is!”
Ma puts the cup under her nose, “This is freshly ground beans, must be stored in a really air-tight container, stainless steel, I guess, keeps the full aroma of the coffee beans.”
I look at her, thinking for a moment, and then, “How do you know so much about food?”
She has a sip of coffee, closes her eyes, smiles, dreams, and opens her eyes, “Someday I’ll tell you, girl, Little Lady, I should say.”
I fill up her glass with fresh orange juice, put her big plate of bacon, egg, and toast before her. Then I push the jar with marmalade towards her and the plate with Creole cream cheese.
Ma makes herself a toast with a mountain of cream cheese, and on top some of the sweet orange marmalade. She has a bite, drinks some coffee, pinches some bacon on her fork, and cuts up some egg.
I take my time to see how Ma enjoys what I have put before her. “What do you think about how I prepare breakfast?”
Ma stops chewing, looks at me, finishes chewing, and has some coffee. “Girl, I do think that you know how to operate a restaurant. With all this, I don’t need to have any dinner or supper today.”
I blink and put down the knife and the fork on my plate, “Ma, thank you for coming, I really mean it. Today, I, well, I felt better than in a long time and…”
“Because you didn’t drink so much at night.”
“I promise that I…”
Ma holds up her coffee cup, “I told you before, don’t promise something difficult to achieve.” She pinches some bacon on her fork, and it disappears into her mouth. “You know that you have been lonely too long; that isn’t good.” She sips some coffee, “How long was it since you had breakfast with someone, apart from me?”
“1963.”
Ma stares at me, “1963?”
“Yes.”
Ma bites her lips and glances at her house, “Go on! Eat while it’s warm, we've got all day to talk.”
I give her a little smile and switch my attention to the warm toast with marmalade on it. My eyes move towards her house, and then I know that she would like to tell me something, but for the moment, I won’t ask her about it.
“Come on and eat up, girl! You've got a long day ahead of you.”
Somehow, she must have noticed what I was thinking about. We both eat without saying a word. We're just looking at each other and smiling. The warmth of the sun on my face and the salty breeze from the sea, mixed with the smell of Indonesian coffee, makes me break out in a large smile. A squawking seagull passes over us. We both look up at the sky.
Then I think for a moment, put down the coffee cup, “May I ask you something?”
“Well, yes, sure.”
“Blacks and whites don’t mix in this town, as you said, that’s right, isn’t it?”
Ma takes a deep breath and puts down her knife and fork on the plate, “You meet the Sheriff and his Deputy, do I need to say anything more?”
“I saw a black girl and a white girl, today, here, playing in the mist.”
Ma reaches forward, her smile has gone, and her eyes are fixed on mine, “What did you just say?”
“There was this thick mist, and I heard a girl giggle; it came from the swamp. I couldn’t really make out who it was, but then I saw them, it was only a second, two girls, one black and the other white. They, I think they were playing because the white girl kept pushing the black girl and…”
“What time was this?”
“Just when I went up, early, six o’clock something.” I point at the swamp, “I was sitting here, and they came from there and, well, continued to the road. I lost sight of them because of the mist.”
Ma leans back in the chair and crosses her arms in front of her. She is silent for a moment. “So it’s true.” Ma taps her coffee cup a couple of times and glances at the swamp, “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”
I shrug my shoulders, “Of course I won’t.” Then I smile at her, “Who are they?”
“Ghosts.”
“Ghosts?” My smile disappear. “But they looked so real, are you sure?”
“There are some old stories about the ghosts of a white and a black girl around here.”
“I think I saw them before, the first time I drove into Alligator, the day I arrived here, remember?”
“Are you sure?”
I pass my palm over my chin a couple of times, “I think so. What do you know about, I mean, these girls?”
Ma leans forward and puts her hand on mine, “When I was young, my grandmother told me a story about how a black and white girl ran away from the white girl's father’s plantation. They said they were friends. During the slave period, that would have been impossible. It still is today.”
I nod a couple of times.
“So they ran away.”
I nod again.
Ma takes away her hand, picks up her coffee cup, and looks into it. I’m quick to pour her some more hot coffee from the pot. Two spoons of sugar goes into it. She steers it and then has a sip, she puts it down, it must be too hot. Ma takes a deep breath and looks at me, “During the slave days, they would have killed the black girl for running away.” She tries the coffee again and then drinks some more. “That’s what they did,” her voice is low, and she looks down at the table. “The story says that they found the two girls, hungry and exhausted, hiding on the edge of the swamp.” Ma puts down her cup and wipes away a tear, “They killed her.” She pauses and looks at me, “People say that the white girl drowned herself when she saw her friend hanging dead from a tree.”
A second tear drops is making its way down Ma’s cheek.
I reach forward and wipe it away, “Ma, do you want to stop?”
Ma puts her hand on mine and squeezes it, “Someone has to tell all this, otherwise it won’t go away.”
“Do you know where this happened?”
Ma points at the narrow road, “Close to here, there’s an old tree, next to the swamp.” She swallows and coughs, “Someone burnt the tree, nobody knows for sure who did it, but grandmother told me that black people thought that it was the ghosts of the two girls who did it.” Ma wipes away some more tears.
I stand up and hug her, then I gently stroke her curly, white hair with my hand. At this moment, I decide not to tell her about the flying disc I saw the other day.

10 AM, Friday, April 8, outside Ma’s house.

I knock on Ma’s door.
“Come on in! The door is open,” she shouts to me from the inside.
I open the door and see that Ma is in the kitchen. “I’m going to Alligator. I need some nails and some other things. Do you want something from the store?”
Ma turns around from the stove and walks over to her pantry. She looks inside and takes out a small, half-full bottle of her hot sauce and holds it up. “If you could buy five dozen of these for me, you know I use them for my sauce.”
I take the bottle and put it into my handbag, “I’ll do that. Do you need anything else?”
“Not at the moment.” She’s silent, but then she cleans her hands on her apron, “You know, my life is much easier now. If I need anything, I just ask you to buy it before I would have had to ask Theodore, who would come once a week, to buy me things.”
I smile at her.
“People love my sauce, especially when I make Crawfish Beignets with Cajun Dipping sauce. I’ll teach you how to make them.”
“You got enough vinegar?”
“Yes, I have enough vinegar.”
“I locked the door and left a note that I would be back around midday. Could you please have a look if you hear a car, or something, please?”
“I’m sure that you’re going to have your first customer today. The Lord will see to that.”
I try to smile, I bite my lips, and quickly pass my palm over my mouth, “I, yes, I really hope so.” I put on my Ray-Bans and smile. “I’m sure I will have my first customers today.” Then I point at the door.
Ma nods, and I hurry out the door, close it, and take out the car keys from my handbag.
In less than a minute, my Ninety-Eight Rocket is gliding down the road. I try to think about having my first customers. At my restaurant. The thought makes me smile, and I even forget that I’m driving on the narrow road. When I’m close to the old corroded steel bridge, I slow down and look to the left, towards the swamp. Ma said that the old, burnt tree would be here. But I can’t find it, so I accelerate again, and the car passes over the steel bridge, with the now familiar rattling sound.

The store comes into sight, and I slow down and make sure that no cars are coming from the other direction. When I am, I turn the steering wheel and press the accelerator. When I brake, the car swings on the suspension, but then it stops, and I step out.
There are several cars and two trucks parked in front of the store. People must be making the last buys before the weekend. The young, blond man, Troy, at the Gulf station, waves to me when he sees me. I just hold up my hand, and then I walk up the stairs to the store's low porch. People are laughing inside the store, just men's voices, so I decide to leave my sunglasses on.
I push the door open and look at the scenario. Several men are looking at a newspaper page that one of them holds up.
“So the newspaper says that several of them, Houma fishing men, have seen strange lights in the swamp, our swamp?”
“Yes, that’s what it says,” the elderly man holding the newspaper smiles.
“That must be some of the boys making moonshine in the swamp,” laughs a third with a checkered shirt and a red cap.
The whole group of men laughs again.
“Well, maybe those fishermen tried that moonshine too,” says a man with a beard, a black shirt, and a patch that looks like a white cross.
Now they are all laughing. One of them bangs his fist on the counter.
When I watch them, I remember Ma’s words about not telling anything to anyone.
Fontenot, the owner, holds up his hands, “Quiet, boys! There’s a Lady in the store!”
They all calm down and smile at me, except for the one with the red baseball cap, who leans over at the man with the beard and whispers something to him. They both look at me with hate in their eyes.
“Gotta leave, Fontenot,” says the red cap. He slaps his hand on the bearded man’s shoulder, and they both walk out of the store.
Fontenot looks at me, “What do you need today?”
“A box of medium-sized nails,” Then I take out the small bottle from my handbag and hold it up, “And five dozen of these small bottles, if you have them, that is.”
Fontenot stretches out his hand and inspects the bottle from all sides, “Hot pepper sauce bottles, a little bit larger than the normal Tabasco bottle.” He looks up at me, “Do you do sauce too?”
“Well, I might be doing a batch of sauce in a couple of weeks, if I have time,” I’m careful not to mention anything about Ma.
“You know, that black woman, the one who has the small house on the same peninsula as your restaurant, she makes the best hot sauce I've ever tried.”
I quickly look to my left. It’s an elderly man, the one who was reading the newspaper.
“We don’t buy from the black folks, remember that,” this time it’s a younger man, the one who stood next to the man with the beard and the black shirt. He looks like he hasn’t showered in a day or two.
“Well, heck, I don’t mind driving down to her house; she makes the best boil around here, and the sauce is fabulous,” he slaps the folded newspaper on the counter and smiles. “I’ve seen a lot of people from around here buying there, no harm in that, is there?”
“You’re lucky Alf and his friend just left,” says the unwashed man.
“I don’t care about them. I was in the First World War, there were black people fighting there with us, and they were brave, I don’t mind saying that.”
“I was in the Second World War,” Fontenot puts the paper box on the counter, turns around, and opens the door to the storage room. “And I can tell you that Herman is right, brave people, not all of them were cooks or cleaners,” he disappears into the storage.
“Time to go,” the unwashed man’s voice has an angry ring. The doorbell goes bling, bling a couple of times when he pulls the door open.
“So what about those strange lights?” I take off my Ray-Bans.
Herman unfolds the Houma Courier and holds up the page, “Well, it says that some of the local fishermen saw strange lights in the swamp, close to here. There were some stories about some type of espionage going on here during the war.”
“How’s that?” The small, fat man scratches his neck.
“That was because a lot of the oil that we needed was shipped from the refinery in Curaçao, Dutch West Indies, to New Orleans,” Fontenot puts five other cardboard boxes on the counter and opens one of them. “They said they even saw German U-boats close to here.” He takes out one of the bottles and holds it up against the light, “Little bit bigger than the one you showed me, but not a big difference. You’ll have to charge two cents more.” He puts the bottle back in the box and starts putting everything into a brown paper bag.
“I would like for things to remain quiet here, just normal, I mean,” the fat man taps on the counter with his finger a couple of times.
“Affects your business?” Asks Herman.
“Yes, it does.” He looks at me, “By the way, name’s Omar.”
“Mr. Omar, mine’s Betty Lee.”
“Heard you’ll open the old restaurant again.”
“That’s right, Mr Omar.”
“I’ll tell you this, it’s bad for business if things are not, how’d I say, normal.” He scratches his chin a couple of times, “That’s what I mean, yes, normal. You know, I take a lot of sports fishermen out on weekends. I don’t do any shrimping on Saturdays, so that’s when I rent the boat to them tourists, visitors, you call them.”
“You’re right about that,” Fontenot has put everything in the bag and is writing a receipt. “I sell a lot of bait to them, sandwiches sometimes, sodas, they wouldn’t come here if the town wasn’t what you’d call normal. They would go to some other place.”
“So it affects the local business?” I open the handbag and take out my wallet.
Fontenot puts the receipt in front of me, “That’s right, it’s important for the town, in the last few years, a lot of sports fishers have come down here and also a lot of families, you see, now just about all families have a car and they want to use it.”
“Not like in Soviet Russia! There, they only go in trains to Siberia,” Herman laughs a little.
The other men laugh too.
“It’s important for your business too, Miss,” Herman taps on the newspaper page a couple of times. “Who would come here if they think that something strange is going on in the swamp. I mean, anything, remember what happened last year in Los Angeles, when the black people rioted, who would like to go to a place like that for a weekend?”
Omar nods a couple of times, “That’s why we have Butch Lamar, the best Sheriff around.”
“Race riots, spooky things going on in the swamp, that wouldn’t be good for business,” Fontenot picks up the bill I’ve put on the counter, clicks in the sum on the cash register, and then he hands me the change and the receipt.
“I don’t agree with what that Alf represents, but Lamar, he’s keeping it nice and quiet here,” Herman folds the newspaper and puts it on the counter. He takes out a packet of Pall Mall cigarettes from his chest pocket and lights one. He has a look at the glowing cigarette, “Heard that they’re going to introduce so-called longs, a long version of these.”
“Who is Alf?” I put the change in the wallet, and the wallet goes into my handbag.
“The man in the red cap, the one who left just when you came in,” Omar points at the entrance.
“And,” I put on my Ray-Bans, “what does he represent?”
The store goes totally quiet.
I wait, but nobody says anything. “Gentlemen, I need to get on and finish the last of my preparations. I hope you have a good day.” I pick up the bag and take a step towards the door.
Omar reaches the door before I do. He holds it up and smiles at me when I leave, “Have a good day, Miss!”
Both Fontenot and Herman quickly wish me a good day, too.

When I walk towards my car, Troy, the young man at the Gulf gas station, waves to me, “Hey Miss, don’t you need to fill up your car today?”
I shake my head, “No, not today!”
When I put the bag on the car roof and open my handbag to take out the car keys, Troy runs towards me. “Hey! Let me help you with that!” He stops just in front of me with a big smile.
“This is not too complicated, just need to put the bag in the trunk, and that’s it,” I stick the key into the lock.
“You got some things to, uh, finish those repairs at your restaurant?”
“So you heard about it?” The trunk swings open, and I put the bag in it.
“Yes, of course, this is a small town, a large extension, but not so many people. I’ll be happy to visit you when you open.”
“Just got some nails and then some bottles, small bottles that are, sauce bottles,” I close the trunk and lock it.
“Sauce? Hot sauce, that is?”
“Of course, this is still Louisiana, isn’t it?”
Troy scratches his chin a couple of times, and then he looks up at the sky, “I don’t think they would mind.”
“Who wouldn’t mind what?”
“You know, you could sell your hot sauce here!”
“At Fontenot’s?”
“Oh, no, here!” He looks back over his shoulder and points at the gas station, “Here! The gas station!”
I slowly lean over to the side and cross my arms, “Why would, I mean, why would anyone buy hot sauce at a gas station?”
“The tourists!”
I blink a couple of times, “The tourists?”
“Yes! Sport fishers! They all stop here! Everyone stops and asks at a gas station, don’t you?”
I put my right hand over my mouth and think for a moment. “You’re right about that, everyone stops and asks at the gas stations, I do too.”
A big smile appears on Troy's face, “You see! When you’ve made that sauce, you give the bottles to me, and I’ll put up a sign just next to the pump.” He points at the small office, “I’ll keep your bottles in there, and then at the end of the month you can pass by and collect whatever I’ve sold.” His smile becomes even bigger, “What d’you say, Miss?”
“Commission?”
“Fuck commission!” He becomes aware of what he has just said, looks down on the ground, pulls out his comb and passes it several times through his short cut hair, stops and holds the comb with both hands, “I… I… it, just, kind of slipped out of me…” He looks like a nervous schoolboy who has just been caught smoking by his mother.
I look away and put my hand over my mouth, so he can’t hear me giggling. Then I straighten up, and when I look at him, I pull down my sunglasses. “Mr. Troy, do you go to church?” My voice has the tone of a grave digger.
“Very much so, Miss, I… I.. well, not too much, sometimes…”
“Every month?”
He shakes his head.
“Twice a year?”
He bites his lips and nods.
“Christmas and your birthday?”
“Yes, Miss, I, you know…”
I hold up my right finger, “Mr. Troy, I gladly accept your offer to sell my Louisiana hot sauce at your gas station. You have just shown me that you’re an honest person, and that’s worth a lot.”

11:16 AM, Crossroads.

Just as I approach the crossroad, a blue Chevrolet Nova Station wagon passes me in the other direction. Two kids are playing with something in the back seat.
I lift my foot from the gas pedal and look in the mirror, “Why, they must have come from the restaurant.” A smile appears on my face when I think that they might come back, for lunch, my first clients.

11:32 AM, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

Ma is cleaning her porch, but she stops when she sees me.
I park the car in front of the restaurant, a little to the side so I don’t block the stairs if someone were to arrive, but that isn’t very probable. I want to open next weekend. I smile when an image of the blue Chevrolet, with the happy family, parks in front of the restaurant. Dreaming is free.
“Got your bottles!” I hold up the brown paper bag and show it to Ma.
She waves to me, “Thank you!”
When I step up on her porch, she gives me a big smile, “That was very nice of you. Otherwise, I would have to wait for Theodore to bring me the bottles.”
“Who’s that Theodore?” I take out the five boxes and put them on the small table next to her rocking chair, leaving the box of nails in the bag.
Ma puts the broom against the wall and, as always, cleans her hands on her apron, “Theodore, he does everything, goes up to Houma once a week to buy things for us black people, works as a handyman, he even does barbering, that’s his true profession, but there ain’t just enough of blacks around here to keep a proper business. He usually comes here on Mondays.”
I whistle and take two dancing steps, “You can sell your sauce at the gas station!”
“Gas station?” Her big eyes tell me that she is surprised.
“Aha!” I nod and take another two dancing steps to the side.
“I never heard about hot sauce being sold at a gas station, and they wouldn’t let me because I’m black.”
I take two steps towards her and give her a little hug, “Hope you don’t get mad at me, but I didn’t tell them that it’s your sauce, said I was going to do a batch, my own.”
“They’ll know that it’s mine, alright. Sometimes, some of the white people come here to buy boil and sauce from me. And by the quantity they buy, I can tell that they’re buying for more people than just themselves.” She stops cleaning her hands on the apron and smiles, “You did the right thing, not telling them that it’s mine.”
I lean to the side, point my finger at her, and smile, “You’ll see that one day your Louisiana Ruby Red hot sauce will be sold in the whole state.”
Ma taps me on my left shoulder a couple of times, “First, you got work to do!”
“Yes, I’m going to change into my jumpsuit and fix the roof on the shed.”
She shakes her head and gives me a mysterious smile, “Oh no! You won’t! I said you have work to do, restaurant work.”
“What do you mean?”
“What time is it? It's almost midday, I think.”
I glance at my wrist watch, “Almost a quarter to twelve.”
“Your first guests will be here in less than half an hour.” She shows me all her teeth in a big smile.
“What?” I look from one side to another, I glance back at the narrow road, and then I look at Ma, “A blue station wagon, a couple and two kids, boy and girl?”
“Yes!” She taps me on my shoulder again, “Little Lady, they ordered already, they’re going to have French-style special fish soup and then some traditional, southern Louisiana Gumbo and then dessert.”
There’s a blong when my sunglasses land on the porch planks, “I haven’t… I mean…” I reach down for the sunglasses, another quick glance at my watch, and then I try to formulate all my chaotic thoughts, “Ma, I… how can I, I mean, there’s no time and…”
Ma taps me on the shoulder again, “It’s all done! Don’t you notice that wonderful smell of Gumbo?!
I sniff in the air a couple of times, and then I become aware of it, the smell of Ma’s Gumbo, “Ma, I… what should I do?”
“Run over to your restaurant, change into something that looks like a waitress, and leave the door open. I’ll bring over the pots, and I suggest you put a table for them outside, so they can enjoy our wonderful weather.”
I pick up the bag with the nails, “They aren’t from here then?”
“No, they’re not, licence plate said Michigan.” She claps her hands, “Come on, girl! What are you waiting for, you’re going to make your first dollars!”

12:16 AM.

When I hear the car, I rush out on the porch. I was so nervous that half of my wardrobe lay on the floor in my room. I had put on a black skirt, a white blouse, and the low shoes that I used when I worked at the motel and rushed out into the kitchen. Ma had been looking at the large electric stove without knowing which knobs to turn to heat it. I had quickly shown her which ones to use, and when she put her hand on the stove, she smiled and commented on how quickly it got warm. I left her with the pots and put the cutlery, napkins, plates, and glasses on a tray and walked out to set the table.

Now they’re here. I wave to the car, and the driver honks. Then I glance back at the entrance, Ma is there, inside, looking at me. She’s cleaning her hands on the apron, but this time she looks nervous.
She points to the kitchen, “I’ll be there all the time.”
“Don’t you want to welcome them?”
“I’d better stay in there,” she tries to smile, but it’s not her usual happy smile.
I just hold up my thumb, and for a moment, I think about North Dakota.
The car parks next to mine, and the family steps out, first the girl and the boy, and then their parents. Both the father and the son are wearing the same type of checkered red shirts. This must be a close-knit family.
“Good day to you, Miss!” The mother waves to me while the father closes the driver’s door. The kids seem anxious to run up the stairs, but the mother holds them back. She takes the lead and walks up the stairs, followed by the kids and lastly the father. She stretches her hand to me, then the girl, the boy, and finally the father.
He looks around and smiles at me, with perfect teeth, he must be a dentist, “Thank you for having us for lunch. Your cook told us that the restaurant wasn’t still a hundred percent operational, but she knew that you would make an exception for us.”
“Yes, that’s right.” I point at the door, “Come, I’ll show you the inside.” All four of them follow me. I turn on the lights and point to the left, “Restrooms are over there, the bar, sofas to relax, and then the kitchen.”
The father looks at the kitchen door, “That is some good smell coming from there. I’m feeling even hungrier now.”
They all laugh. The boy pulls on his mother’s blouse and points to the restrooms. She nods, and he disappears behind the door.
Then the sound of another car makes me look at the entrance, “Sorry, just give me a second.” I rush out on the porch and grab the railing. This time it’s a ’50s Buick with three young women inside.
A tall woman emerges from the Buick. She takes off her headscarf, shakes her head a couple of times so her hair gets some shape, and then she looks up at me. “Hello! The man at the Gulf station said that you had just opened your restaurant. Do you have room for three hungry girls?”
I can’t believe it, people are finding their way to my restaurant. My restaurant? It’s Ma’s restaurant too, from now on.

0:36 AM, Friday, 15 April, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

Things have been going well ever since that first day when the blue station wagon turned up. But then I had dropped one of the plates on the porch when the three young women had told me they were from close to Slidell. When they asked if I knew Slidell, I had shaken my head a couple of times, said that I didn’t, smiled, and hurried into the kitchen once I had picked up the broken plate and put everything on the tray. In the kitchen, I went straight to the refrigerator and took out a beer. In two seconds, it was gone. Ma had shaken her head and asked me what was wrong. As always, I had straightened up, smiled, and told her that I could take care of it. Then I put the family's desserts on the tray. Ma told me to be careful. The family had been very happy with their lunch, and they waved to us when they left. The three young women had ordered some more beer. They were sitting around and talking about their things; they didn’t even bother to use the glasses to drink. One of them asked me if I would like to join them, but I decided to stay professional and declined.
Over the next few days, more guests arrived. Families, sports fishermen, one man who was taking pictures of the Delta and what he called “a disappearing culture,” and then some young people from around the area, but no one from Alligator.

I pull the sheets and blanket up to my chin. I close my eyes and smile when I think about how Ma had answered me this morning when I had asked her if she would like us to form a partnership and work together, forever.
She had banged the ladle on the big pot and looked at me, “You know, girl, you sure serve those tables fast, but I would have to do a whole lot of thinking before starting to work with you.” She had smiled and taken the lid of the pot and smelled the rich stew.
“Ma, you know that your well seasoned slow-cocking is the best for this kind of restaurant, we don’t have to have a big menu, just the best seafood and typical Louisiana food around here, and…”
She had held up her finger, “Hush, girl, you make me think that this might be possible, like that crazy idea of selling hot sauce at a gas station.”
“Ma, I know it will work! It must work, you know how to cook, and I know how to run, serving, I mean.”
She looks at me, puts down the ladle, and cleans her hands on the apron, “You’d do all that, as you said, running?”
“Yes! I would!”
She puts her hand over her mouth and is silent for a moment. When she speaks, her voice is low, “Betty Lee, you know, I’m not that young any longer and…”
“You just stay here in the kitchen!”
A smile appears, and she blinks, “I’ll ask the Lord for guidance tonight.”

Just before I drift off into sleep, I try to imitate her voice, “Ask the Lord for guidance, he’ll tell you that this is the best for both of us.” I exhale and hug the pillow.

My dreams are joyful. I’m in a field full of flowers, my mother talks to me, and I feel happy. Slowly, the sweet dream changes into a nightmare. Something dark is invading my mind; the image of the woman with blood all over her turns up again.

I wake up when something touches my hair.
Instinctively, I grab the 1911 under my pillow and look around. A large, reptile-skinned hand with claws is searching for me. I jump up from the bed, “Get the hell out of here!”
From the window, a non-human face with yellow eyes stares at me. It shows its fangs and hisses at me. Then it just disappears, as if it had never been there.
My heart is beating like crazy, and I’m hyperventilating. I’m confused, and for a moment I don’t know what to do. Then I snap to it, “The window! Close the bloody window!” I rush forward and look out, but there’s nothing there. I quickly close the shutters and the window.
Then I turn on the light, take off my pyjamas, get into my jumpsuit, and get my boots on. My snub-nose revolver ends up in the back pocket, extra magazines and moon clips in the other pockets. I pull the slide back on the 1911, cock and lock it. Now I only have to take the safe off to fire.
With the gun pressed to my right side, I slowly open the door and look into the hallway. There’s not a sound, nothing. Carefully, I advance towards the kitchen door. I pull it open and hastily step back with both my hands on the gun. Everything is quiet.
I check that the back door is locked and bolted. Then I put a chair against it with a glass on top. If someone gets in through the door, the glass will fall on the floor and warn me.
The drawer squeaks when I open it. I look around, but there is no movement or sound from the restaurant. The flashlight’s metal is cold. I flip it on and off a couple of times. It works flawlessly.
With the light turned off, I sneak up to the small window that opens up into the bar. I breathe deeply, then slowly, without making any noise, I open it and peep through. There’s nothing strange in the restaurant, so I move towards the kitchen door and open it, wait, and then with the flashlight in my left, outstretched hand and my gun in my right hand over the left, a thing I learnt at the gun classes called: the cigar. I slowly move towards the entrance.
One slow step at a time, I reach the front window, pull the curtain to the side, and look out. My blood freezes. Something or someone is moving around Ma’s house.
“Three, there’s three of them,” I whisper to myself. I cannot clearly distinguish them, but they must all be more than seven feet tall. My hands start to sweat, and I feel cold. One of the creatures seems to be floating in the air, towards Ma’s door. It seems that he has landed on the porch and is pulling on the doorknob. I lick my lips, my heart beats like crazy again, my breathing is uneven, but then I make a decision.
I unbolt the front door and turn the key. I’m glad I oiled the hinges the other week because the door opens without a sound. Then I crouch and slip out onto the porch through the half-open door. I’m careful to keep down so that they can’t see me. Only when I reach the railing do I raise my head a little to see what they are doing.
The one who has pulled on the door has turned to the others, and it seems that they are communicating with each other. Then he turns around and pulls on the door again.
I think for two seconds, but it seems like two years, then I stand up, point the gun at him, and turn on the flashlight, “Get away from that door! I’ll shoot you!”
The creature at the door is lit up by the light, he hisses at me and pulls out something that looks like a little stick and points it at me.
Bang! The recoil raises the 1911 up.
There’s a loud scream when the bullet hits his leg.
I flash the light on the other two and fire a shot just in front of the feet of one of them. “Get the hell out of here! I’ll kill all of you!” I shout as loud as I can. Then I flash the light on the first one again. My breathing stops. It’s the same one that was looking through my window and tried to grab me, I’m sure of it!
The tall, devil-like creature has his hands on his leg, but he still hisses at me, and fire seems to come out of his yellow eyes.
The other two quickly float towards him, pick him up, and then they disappear! Like they had never been there!
I flash the light towards the swamp and see how the grass is moving, but without anyone walking on it. There’s another loud bang when I fire a second shot in the direction that I think they are moving. My blood freezes when I realise that they can become invisible.
My hands fumble a little when I change the magazine, but now I’m prepared, six new shots ready for them, if they come back.

When I move towards Ma’s house, the normal noise of insects in the swamp starts again. I shine the light in all directions, and then I rush towards Ma’s house. When I reach the path, I stop and wait. Ready to fire. The creak from Ma’s door makes me point the gun at her.
“What are you doing? Get that gun away from me!”
“Get in and lock the door!”
“What are you doing, girl? What happened? I heard a shot, two shots!”
“Get the hell in and close the door, Ma!”
Ma angrily slams the door shut.
It’s better that she is angry with me than being abducted by those creatures. Abducted? Isn’t that what those spacemen in the movies do? Snatch people from their homes at night.
“Ma! Get a bag and put what you need in it, you’ll come with me! It’s too dangerous for you to be here alone!”
“Dangerous?” She looks at me from the other side of the window.
“Just do as I told you. I’ll have a look around and whatever happens, don’t open the door.”
Ma nods a couple of times, and then she disappears from the window.

I walk to the back of her house and shine the light at the shed. It’s too dangerous to check it now, so I decide to go back. When I’m at the front of the house, I shine the light at the large, old trees. When the lights land on the wooden sign saying that bugs and boil are sold here, I grin. “They sure as hell haven’t come here to buy any boil,” I whisper to myself. The light from the flashlight is reflected back by the humidity of the swamp. I’m sweating because of fear, and then a mosquito stings my right hand. Slowly, without stopping to watch the swamp, I make my way up the stairs to the porch.

There’s a click when she opens the door, “Are you alright, Betty Lee?”
“Yes, I am. Do you have what you need?”
“I have.”
“Then you come with me.”
Ma steps out from her home, with an old leather suitcase with a label on it saying: Tulsa, and her little, black handbag in her left hand, and in her right, she holds a pump shotgun.
“Where did you get that from?”
“It was my Herbert’s.”
“Come on! Walk as fast as you can towards the restaurant and don’t stop. I’ll cover us.”
“Girl, I, what’s going on?”
I point towards the restaurant, “Go! I’ll tell you when I get there!”

I’ve never been so nervous in my life. Continuously, I look to the sides and back at the swamp, stop, breathe, and then I walk sideways behind Ma. She stops in the middle of the turn back and looks at me.
I wave to her to continue.
When we get closer to the restaurant, I sprint past her and up the stairs. Now I can cover her from the porch. I turn on the flashlight and direct the beam to her house and then towards the swamp.
When Ma reaches the stairs, I quickly open the front door, shine the light at the swamp again, and wait. Once she is inside, I walk backwards, thinking about how those creatures had just vanished into thin air.
I slam the door shut, bolt, and lock it. “Wait here!” Then I close the shutters on all the windows in the dining room, rush into the restrooms, and do the same.
When I finally close the last shutter in one of the bedrooms, I take a deep breath and lean against the wall.
“Are you alright, girl!” Ma’s voice comes from the kitchen.
“Yes! Yes, I am!” I’m lying, I don’t feel well at all. Sweat is pouring down my back, and my hands shake. Maybe I shouldn’t, but now I really need a drink.
When I step into the kitchen, Ma has opened a bottle of beer and hands it to me, “I think you just might need this.”
“Thank you,” I have a drink of beer and sit down at the desk and think. “Did you see those creatures?”
“Yes, I did.” Ma rubs her hands against each other, “I never saw such horrible, frightening faces before. They looked like alligators walking upright.”
“One of them tried to grab me,” I have another sip from the bottle.
“What?” Ma stops rubbing her hands and leans forward.
“Through the window,” I put down the bottle and point at the hallway door. “I was asleep, dreaming about my… parents and then,” I pick up the bottle and have some more beer. “A hand, a large hand, it wasn’t human touched my hair and tried to grab me, I…” I finish the bottle and put it down on the table, breathe deeply, and shake my head, “I got the gun out and jumped to the floor, and there was this, large…”
“You want another beer?”
I nod and take another deep breath. My eyes wander off to the drawer where the little white cardboard box with the pills is.
Clonk! Ma puts the open bottle on the desk, “Don’t you take those pills, they make you sleepy, and I need you here.”
“Okay.” I have a drink, close my eyes, open them, and have another drink. “There was a large, non-human face, with reptile skin and yellow eyes staring at me. He, it, I don’t know, it hissed at me and disappeared.” I bite my lips and have some more beer, “I don’t know how he could have gotten up to the window, he…”
“Maybe he used a ladder?” Ma opens the refrigerator, takes out the iced tea, and pours herself a glass.
“You want something stronger?”
She shakes her head and gives me a little smile.
“It… just disappeared and then I got my… clothes on, rushed out and found three of them around your house.” I lick my lips and drink some more.
Ma passes her hand over her mouth several times and breaths deeply, “I knew that something was wrong, all of a sudden I had a nightmare and.”
“That happened to me, too!” I stand up and put the bottle on the table. “I saw a woman all covered in blood. It was the second time that I saw this, horrible, image and…”
“Second time? When was the first time?”
I sit down and have a drink, “A couple of… weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because, well, I…”
“You thought that I would think that you’re crazy.”
I let out all the air in my lungs and wait for a second, “Yes.”
“What happened?”
“You know, I… remember that day when you found me, there, outside?” I nod to the back door.
“Yes, I do.”
“You slapped me in the face and,” I lick my lips and look up at her.
“I’m sorry, you know that, don’t you?”
“I shouted at you that you didn’t know what had happened,” I pick up the bottle and drink some more.
“I remember, daughter.”
“You see that first drawer?” I point at the desk with the bottle.
“Uhum.”
“There’s a box, a small box that has some pills, they calm you down and take away your memory and, I.”
“Why do you have them?
“I shot someone.”
Ma’s silent, but then she reaches forward and touches my hair, “You killed him?”
I shake my head a couple of times, “How do you know that it was a man?”
Ma strokes my hair again and smiles at me, “It’s always a he.”
“Well, I, that night, I was drinking on the beach, you know that I drink, alone, when…”
“When all bad memories come bubbling up. You shot him in Slidell, didn’t you? That’s why you got so nervous when those three girls turned up here and said that they were from Slidell.”
I nod, clear my throat, and continue, “That night, I was drunk and then something appeared in the sky...”
Ma blinks.
“It was huge, a kind of metal disc…”
She strokes my hair again.
“It stopped over the beach, and then there was some kind of beam. I started to feel cold, nervous, anxious, and...” I take another sip from the bottle. “Then it stopped over the restaurant, I, I followed it, and then I started to feel ill, sick, and images and voices appeared in my head.”
“Images?”
“Yes, of women being taken away,” I pause and bite my lips. “Into something that looked like something… round. It was inside a cave, and there was a lot of screaming.”
Ma pats me on my head, “Easy, I’m here, easy, I won’t leave you.”
I look up at her, “Thank you.” I take a deep breath and continue, “It was horrible, there was a lot of screaming, and everything was watched over by some… beings, they were not human.” I reach for the bottle and have a drink, “Like those creatures that were outside your house, the monster that looked into my window.”
“How did you end up outside, on the stairs?”
“I, I wanted to stop the screaming and the images. I managed to get back inside the kitchen and took out the pills. I had one and then I…” I have another sip of beer, “I had some vodka, a beer, and then I remember that you can’t have a pill and drink. But the voices, the images disappeared, and I felt better and…”
“The blood on your face?”
“The glass fell on the floor and broke. When I reached down to pick it up, I cut myself. I must have smeared it over my face. And Lord Nelson was outside, quacking, so I, I got a fish for him, and then I must have collapsed on the stairs.”
“And then I slapped you, in the face, in the morning.”
I nod and have some more beer.
Ma strokes my hair a couple of times without saying a word.
“I don’t blame you, you just found me drunk, outside, with blood on my face and you…” I take a deep breath.
“I just wanted to know what had happened. I was very afraid, Betty Lee, very, very afraid. First, those two men, then the Sheriff, and then I saw you on the stairs. I should have asked you, kindly, but you know…”
“Your education, Ma, that’s all there is to it. If your mother had found you as you found me, she would have slapped you in the face, am I right?“
“She would have beaten me up, real bad.”
“So that was what you did. Nothing more to it.”
Ma strokes my hair again, and then she hugs me, “I’m sorry, daughter, I really am.”
I pat her on her back, “Don’t be, it was just your way of showing that you care for me.”
She steps back, drinks some iced tea, and is silent for a moment. “What happened to that, what you called a metal disc?”
I point towards the restaurant, “It flew very low over the tree tops, and then it disappeared into the swamp, that’s when I stumbled back here, into the kitchen.”
“You saw it from the turnaround?”
“Yes.”
Ma rubs her chin a couple of times and looks towards the restaurant, “Strange, I didn’t hear a thing, and I have a light sleep.”
“Maybe they hypnotized you, some gas, something…”
“They don’t want anyone to know that they’re here, that’s for sure.”
“They don’t want anyone to know that they are here,” I repeat what Ma has said in a low voice. I draw a deep breath and put my fingers on my right cheek, “You know, if that is how it is, then we’ll be safe during the day. We only have to be careful at night or early in the morning.”
“You mean, they won’t show up during the day?”
“I don’t think so, but we must be very careful at night, they, they, after I fired at the biggest one of them, they disappeared, like they never had been there.”
“Invisible?”
“Yes, we will limit ourselves to opening only until sunset and then close our restaurant early.”
“Our? What do you mean?”
“I, well, I,” I pick up the bottle, shake it, and then I look at Ma. She smiles and quickly points at the refrigerator. I get up, take out another bottle, open it, and have a sip of beer, “You know, I want you to, I mean, us to work together.” I have a second sip, “The other day, everyone left happy and now…”
“That Sheriff wouldn’t be happy to see us work together.”
“Well, he can think whatever he wants!”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as I can be, Ma. Look, what happened tonight, those creatures or whatever they are, tried to snatch me, and then they tried with you. I think that that’s more dangerous than some sweaty backwater Sheriff.”
Ma puts her hand over her mouth and giggles, “Sweaty backwater Sheriff!”
“Yes, that’s what he is! I want you to stay with me here, until, well, we know what’s going on in the swamp.”
Ma looks at me without saying anything. Then, slowly she reaches forward and strokes my hair again, “You saved me twice, daughter, twice. I’ll stay with you, and we’ll make this the best restaurant on the coast.”
I stand up and give her a big hug.
“Let go of me, girl! You hear me?”
I take a step back and smile at her.
Ma straightens out her dress, “Girl, ain’t you hungry? I sure am, so I’ll make us some big roast beef sandwiches.”

My eyes are fixed on the plate with the big sandwich. It has everything a real roast beef sandwich should have. I lick my lips, “Ma, how could you make them so fast?”
“Girl, I have many more years of experience in the kitchen than you.” She opens her sandwich, pours some of her homemade hot sauce onto the beef, and closes it. “You try some of that, what did you call it?”
“Louisiana Ruby Red hot sauce. Ma’s very own, made next to the swamp,” I take the bottle and splash a little sauce on my beef too.
“What did you just say?”
“Louisiana Ruby Red?”
“No, no. The other thing.”
“Made next to the swamp?”
“That’s it!”
“That’s what?”
“Let me think for a moment,” she picks up her sandwich and gives it a big bite. Her eyes light up, and she smiles at me.
We both eat our sandwiches in silence, I drink my beer, and Ma her iced tea. “You know, I try to remember something, it was something that my grandma told me about the swamp, and I think it had something to do with her hot sauce.”

When I’ve checked that everything is locked and bolted, I turn off the lights in the restaurant and the kitchen and walk into the hallway.
“Is everything alright, Betty Lee?”
I nod and take out the revolver from my side pocket and stretch it to Ma, “You want it?”
She shakes her head, “No, I don’t see well enough to use it. I got my Herbert’s shotgun, I mean.”
“Is it loaded?”
“No, it isn’t, I wouldn’t have dared to have a loaded gun in my house.”
“So why don’t you take the revolver?”
“I’ll just bash them on the head with the shotgun stock, if they come into my room, I mean, your room, your restaurant.”
I smile at her, “You could throw hot sauce on them.”
“That’s it!” Ma snaps her fingers. “It had something to do with throwing hot sauce.”
“Ma, go to sleep, and I’m sure that you will remember everything tomorrow.”
Ma waves to me and closes the door to her bedroom.
I walk into my bedroom, leave the light on, and sit down in the chair, with my boots and the jumpsuit on. The 1911 goes on the table, and I put a warm blanket over me. Somehow, I feel safe; someone must be looking after me, but who? I close my eyes and drift into sleep.

10:14 AM, Saturday, 16 April, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

“Get up, Betty Lee!”
I jump up and grab the snub nose. My eyes go from the closed window to the door.
“Come on, girl!” Ma knocks on the door, “We’re going to have this new thing they call brunch.”
I glance at the alarm clock; it’s just past ten in the morning. I put the revolver in the big pocket on my jumpsuit and open the door.
“You ain’t hungry, girl?” Ma smiles at me and waves to the kitchen, “You smell all that? I heard about this thing on the radio, brunch they call it, for people who sleep late, sturdy breakfast is what it used to be called.”
I take a deep breath, the air is filled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, toast, bacon, “Ma, did you make scrambled eggs too?”
“Just the way you like them.” She turns around and walks towards the kitchen, “Get a shower! I put a table for us outside.”
“You opened the door?”
She stops and looks back at me, “Lord Nelson wasn’t quacking, the bees are flying around, and as you said, they probably don’t want to be seen.” Ma claps her hands, “Come on! Get into that shower!”

After I pick a pair of baggy jeans with folded up legs, underwear, and a blue blouse from the wardrobe, I hurry to the shower.
Back in my room, I have a look at myself in the large mirror. My freckly face smiles back at me, “Good morning, Betty Lee! Time to have a wonderful day.”
For a second, I hesitate to open the shutters, but then I think about what Ma said. She must be right; if the normal noise from the swamp disappears, like last night, then those creatures must be there, otherwise they probably aren’t close. Just as a precaution, I put the snub nose in my right pocket, two moon clips, and the switch blade knife goes into the left pocket. My feet slip into my sandals, and I walk out into the hallway.

Ma is just putting the last plate on the table when I step out onto the porch. She smiles and points at the table, “Girl, this is Brunch, Bayou style!” Her finger runs over the plates of red bean rice, scrambled eggs, smoked ham, bacon, toasts, sausages, fresh juice, coffee, oranges, and grapes. “What do you think of all this?”
“Ma, that looks very appetising.”
“I used your kitchen, Betty Lee. It warms up very fast, I’m pretty impressed with it.”
I pull out a chair and have a seat. Ma pours me a cup of coffee, it’s too hot, so I put it down and reach for some bacon and scrambled eggs, then a toast with marmalade. The coffee has cooled down a little and is now drinkable. “Ma, this is exactly what I need.” I munch on the toast and pinch some bacon with the fork, “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”
“You were snarling so much that I thought you needed a good rest, that’s why,” she takes a bite of the smoked ham toast.
“Snarl! Wait a minute, I don’t snarl!”
“Well, yes, you do, little lady.” A forkload of beans lands in her mouth. “Maybe that was what attracted those creatures last night, your loud snarling!” She giggles when she reaches for her cup.
I put down my knife and fork, “Stop it! I don’t snarl!”
“I didn’t wake you up because of everything that happened last night. You needed to rest and calm down your nerves.” She reaches for some scrambled eggs and puts them on her plate. “When you get nervous and feel lonely, you drink.” She has some eggs before continuing. “It ain’t no good for you, you know? Drinking can cause a lot of problems. I know that you don’t drink because you like it, something happened in your life that…”
“That destroyed me.” I have some coffee, “Frank, that’s the name.”
She blinks, looks at me, and blinks again. Then she pats me on my left hand, “Now you just eat all you can, today is going to be a long day, I would like to go to my house and pick up some more things, and then we must think about what to do to protect us from those, those things.” She reaches for her coffee cup and drinks.
“I’ll put up lamps outside, here on the porch, maybe three and one just above the back door.” I point at the entrance, “Big lights, that will scare them away.”
“Wouldn’t that be expensive? I mean, you could get a large energy bill.”
“We’ll just turn them on if we notice something. And it would make it safe for us to sit here, outside at night. I don’t want to live locked up. And we must get a phone too, so people can call and reserve tables.”
“You would have to drive up to Houma to do all those things.”
“And I must contact the electric company, you know, they never turned off the lights.”
“They didn’t?”
“No, it’s all very strange. They should have cut the power when they closed the restaurant.”
“Maybe they were planning to reopen.”
“Maybe, but then why did they sell it?” I have a sip of coffee, “I’ll have to look through all the drawers. I saw some old folders under the bar, maybe I can find a receipt there.” I look at the swamp and then at the sea, “I know I snarl, they told me so at St. Mary’s.”
“The orphanage?”
I nod a couple of times.
“You listen to me, forget about that orphanage, they aren’t here any longer.”
My voice is very low, “Thank you for caring for me, Ma.”
She pats me on my hand again, “Daughter.”
I break up into a big smile when I hear her say those words. “So what do you say about us working together?”
Ma pats me on my hand again, “We’ll work together, it’s a good idea.”
“You stay here with me, it’s safer, and then we’ll turn this into…”
“Into the best seafood restaurant on the whole coast.”
I put both my hands on her hand and silently say, “Thank you.”
“Listen, I want to go to my house and pick up some things.”
“What do you need?”
Ma picks up her knife and fork, finishes what is left on the plate, and points at my plate, “Eat up, girl.”
I quickly pick up the toast and the fork and continue to eat while listening to her.
“You see, I got the shotgun, but I forgot to get the shells; it’s unloaded. It’s been in the wardrobe since 1947,” she’s silent for a moment. “And then I forgot Herbert’s picture, I can’t be without it.”
I lift the coffee cup and look at Ma. Herbert, her husband, must have died in ’47; that’s why the shotgun had been untouched since then.
“And then I would also bring over as many things as I can from my kitchen. You know I do like my old pots and knives. And everything I have in the refrigerator, and turn it off. Hot sauce, we shouldn’t forget to take over some boxes, just in case anyone would like to buy, even if…”
“Even if you think that’s impossible,” I put down the knife and fork on the empty plate and finish the last of the coffee. “You’ll see that people will buy your hot sauce.”
“Our hot sauce, daughter. Our hot sauce.”
I blink and look up at the clouds for a second. Then I bite my lips and smile, “Our restaurant, Ma. Our restaurant.”

We quickly move over the turnaround. Both my hands are on the 1911. I offered the snub nose to Ma. She had looked at the matte black Model 66. Then her bony, long, tapered fingers had gripped the rosewood handle, and her dark, bright eyes had looked down the sights and asked how to fire it. I told her that it was a double-action revolver and that she only had to pull the trigger until she felt the resistance, the safe, and just keep pulling until it fired. Ma is now walking behind me on my left side with the revolver in her right hand.
When we reach the path that leads to her house, I hold up my left hand to signal to her to stop where she is. Slowly, I walk forward, step up on the porch, and check that the door is still locked. All the windows are untouched. Then I move around the house until I come to the little shed. I put the gun next to my side, pull the door open, and quickly step back. There is nothing inside you. The strong smell of vinegar and pepper makes me sneeze. My eyes move from one side to another. Everything is normal, the sound of the insects and the seagulls is the only thing I hear.
Ma waves to me when I turn the corner. I look around again, and this time I notice something glimmering in the grass, just next to the porch. I reach down and pick up a small, black, metal stick with a red crystal of some sort on the tip. This must be what that creature pointed at me.
“What’s that?” Ma has silently walked up next to me.
“I don’t know. One of the creatures pointed something at me last night, before I shot him in the leg; it must be this.” I hold it up to the sky, and both of us watch how the crystal reflects the light.
“Lord Jesus, then they might come back for it.”
“I don’t think so; they would already have been here.”
“Maybe you should leave it there.”
“I’ll keep it, Ma. If we need help, I have this as proof that all of this really happened.”
“Do you think that we need help?”
“I’m not sure,” I put the little metal stick in my back pocket. “Let’s get your things, and then we'll go back to the restaurant as quickly as possible.”
Ma puts the revolver in her apron's pocket, pulls out the key, unlocks, and opens the door. She waves to me to follow her inside.
There’s a click when she closes the door, “I got a big basket in the kitchen, I use it when I harvest in my garden, we’ll put the knives and the pots in it, get Herbert’s picture, I think the shotgun shells are in the wardrobe, you go and get them, and I’ll do the rest.
Herbert’s picture is smiling at me from the small table next to the bed. There are fresh flowers next to it. Ma must pick them every day.
I pat the picture, “You found the best wife ever.” For a second, it seems like the picture comes alive. I quickly withdraw my hand, step back, and stare at it.
The noise from the kitchen, where Ma is filling up the large straw bag with pots, ladles, knives, and skillets, snaps me back into reality. I look at the large, wooden wardrobe. It’s the type made so sturdy that it will last at least another hundred years. I feel a little uncomfortable looking at someone else’s clothes and personal belongings. My hands gently move the clothes to the side. And there they are, at the end of the large drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, six boxes of shotgun shells, three red and three green. I take them out, close the wardrobe, and open one of each colour. The red has twenty-four shells with buckshot, and the green has the same number of shells, but they’re slugs.
“Well, what do you know? This wasn’t for hunting, this was for self defence,” I scratch my neck and wonder what could have made Herbert have this at home.
“I’m ready,” Ma has turned up at the bedroom door, “Could you carry the bag, it’s a little bit heavy for me, please?”
“Of course, Ma,” I close the boxes, pick them up, and head off to the kitchen. The boxes land on top of the pots, and I lift the bag; it’s so heavy that I need both hands to lift it. I hang it over my left shoulder and, leaning to the right, I walk out into the living room and wait for Ma.
Ma turns up with the picture and a large, old, metal box under her left arm. She opens the door, I step out, and so does she, then she closes and locks it.
“Come on, Betty Lee, let’s get back to the restaurant.” The key has gone down into the apron’s pocket, and the revolver has come out.
This time it’s me who struggles to keep up with her. I haven’t taken out the gun; it sits in my waistband because I need both hands to keep the large bag on my shoulder. My heart beats faster, the effort and my nerves make me sweat.
“What if those creatures turn up right now?” I mumble to myself.
“Girl, there’s one large, cold beer waiting for you, so you can cool off all that sweat that’s running down your back.”

I take the final step and put my foot on the porch. There’s a loud clang when the bag lands on the planks, two of the boxes fall out, and I lean on the railing. I breathe deep a couple of times and wipe the sweat from my forehead.
“You just wait here, girl,” Ma says as she disappears into the restaurant.
I wait, turn around, and look at the swamp. Just as I think that the metal box must contain her savings, and she’s probably putting it in some safe place in her room.
There’s a clonk on the table behind me.
“There you go, one large, cold Dixie. You should sell JAX, too, you know?”
I turn around, and my eyes move from Ma to the beer bottle and then to the Mossberg in her right hand. I walk up to the table, lift the bottle, look at it, and point my right finger at it.
“Yes, you can! You earned it, that sack, those pots and everything must weigh at least, maybe seventy, or more, pounds.”
I have a sip, close my eyes, and let the cold beer do its job. “That’s a sturdy sack,” I open my eyes and smile at Ma.
“I make them myself, they were used for harvesting on the plantations and…” She goes silent.
“You know how to use that Mossberg, the shotgun?” I point at it with the bottle.
Her smile comes back, “Yes, I do!” I watch how she checks the safe, fills the tube with six shells, first a buckshot, followed by a slug, she pumps one into the chamber, tops the tube with a last shell of buckshot, and finally shows me that the safe is on.
I stroke my mouth a couple of times with my left hand and have another drink.
Ma pumps out the seven shells and places them on the table, shows me that the safe is still on, and walks up to the railing where she points the Mossberg towards the swamp and dry fires it in seven different directions.
I have a large sip of beer.
Ma holds up the gun, pumps it a couple of times, and shows me the red dot that’s visible since the safe is off, “Red, you’re dead!”
“Would you…” I stroke my mouth again and bite my lips, “I mean, those, that…”
“Let’s not talk about that.”
Her voice makes it clear that I shouldn’t ask any questions about what happened the first day I came here, so I nod and finish the beer.
“You can have another one after you have dragged that heavy sack into the kitchen,” Ma giggles and loads the gun again. She shows me that the safe is on, takes out the revolver, and puts it on the table, “This is yours. With my eyesight, well, I’ll stick to Herbert’s shotgun.”
“Why did he have it? That way of loading it up isn’t for hunting, it’s for self-defence, one to stop them and one to bring them down, right?”
“He was in Tulsa.”
“Tulsa?”
Ma slams her palm on the table, and the bottle falls onto the porch, “You’re not earning that beer! Get that bag into the kitchen!” She reaches down, giggles, and picks up the bottle, “We’ll talk this evening, Little Lady.”

8:32 PM, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

The carbide lamps, those that I found in the shed at the back of the restaurant, light up the porch and part of the turnaround.
“You see, this will keep those creatures away. At least until I can drive up to Houma and get those lamps and install them around the restaurant.”
Ma puts down her glass of iced tea and blinks, “You’re a clever girl, do you know that?”
“I figure that their, whatever it is, that makes them invisible only works when it’s dark, not when they are exposed to light.”
“How about putting one at the back, next to the kitchen door?”
“Too dangerous, Ma. What if it tips over and the restaurant catches fire?”
Ma points at the Dixie bottle, “You don’t drink.”
I smile at her and pick up the bottle and have a drink, “I’ll get into town tomorrow morning and leave the bottles at the Gulf station.”
“We’ll have to go back to my house and pick them up.”
“I don’t worry about that. We just have to do everything during daylight.”
“And we only serve until sunset.”
“Until I can get them strong floodlights.”
“If you go into Alligator tomorrow, you, well, you could ask Fontenot if he could order them for you. Theodore, the black man I told you about, can make the installation; he does everything.” Ma has some iced tea, “He was in Korea.”
“He’s authorized to do electric installations?”
“He is. He fixed the school system when it was hit by lightning a couple of years back. He put up the rod, and it was all approved by the power company.”
“What’s the name of the power company here?” I wave away a mosquito that has come too close and have a sip of Dixie.
“Central Louisiana Electric Company!” Ma waves away the mosquito, too. “You know, they started making ice and then sold the surplus of energy they produced to other consumers. 1938 that was.” The mosquito gets too close to Ma and ends up on the table after a loud smack from Ma’s towel.
“They must have a copy of the contract of the last owners of the restaurant, don’t you think?”
“You’ll find their office in Houma.”
“Okay, so I’ll drive into Alligator tomorrow, leave the bottles at the gas station, say that the sauce is called Louisiana Ruby Red Hot Sauce, and ask Fontenot to order the floodlights for us.”
“You tell him to get in contact with Theodore. Theodore can pick up the lights, make the installation, and take the papers to the power company office in Houma and…” Ma has a drink of iced tea. “And he will ask about the company that has the contract to this property, and why the power wasn’t turned off; he’s just an operator, trying to find out something that’s related to his work.” She has another sip and smile.
“That’s, I mean, that’s great!”
“You can pay Fontenot in advance for the lights. When Theodore has the papers from the office in Houma, he’ll also have the information. He comes back here to get paid and gives you the information, and nobody will suspect that you are, hum, what’s that word, girl?”
“Investigating.”
“That’s the word. Don’t let people here get to know that something has happened, or you’ll…”
“We’ll…Ma. We’ll.”
“You’re right. We’ll end up without any guests at all and that…”
“Sheriff.”
“You’re reading my mind! That Sheriff might come here and cause us more problems. Well, notice what I just said, we’ll just keep nice and quiet and build the business.”
“We should get people from outside, tourists, not from here.”
“We’ll find a way to do that, be sure of it.” Ma blinks at me and smiles. “The Lord will take care of that.”

11:47 PM.

I put the snub nose on the table next to the flashlight, the 1911 goes under the pillow, and then I check the shutters and window again. After taking a deep breath, I look at the bottle on the table, and for a second I think about going to sleep without opening it, but then, as always, the cap lands on the table and I have a drink. For a moment, I close my eyes and think about everything that has happened in the last few weeks.
“The stick!”
I jump up from my bed and put the bottle on the table. I had forgotten about the stick that I picked up from Ma’s porch, the one that that creature pointed at me. In just two steps, I reach my baggy jeans that hang from a hook on the back of the door. My hand reaches into the left pocket, nothing, it’s the wrong one. Then I grip the little metallic stick in the right pocket. I pull it out, look at it, and walk back to the bed.
“What the…” I was about to swear. “What can this be?” I have a drink, and then I look at the metal stick from all sides. There’s a buzz from the crystal when I touch it with my index finger. It falls on the floor when I jump up and grab the revolver. When the buzz dies away, I put the snub nose on the table and pick up the stick. I wrap it up in a sock and put it in the last drawer of the large wardrobe.
Slowly, I finish the beer, put down the bottle, check everything again, turn off the light, get into bed, and close my eyes.
“Don’t show it to anyone.”
I jump up, point the gun at the window, swing around towards the door, and breathe. A drop of sweat runs from my forehead towards my left eye. I wipe it off. Another second, one year, one hour of waiting, I don’t know, before I turn on the light. There’s no one there, in the room, except me.

10:07, Saturday, 16 April, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

I take the car keys from the hook next to the desk, smile, and pat Ma on her shoulder as I pass by her, “Got that shotgun ready?”
She looks up from the cutting board, “Yes, I do. Just make sure that you have that big gun of yours handy if anything happens on the road.
I turn towards her and spin around, “How do I look?” I’ve put on a dark blue dress with small white polka dots and a pair of low-heeled black shoes. My orange scarf with white and yellow flowers hangs around my neck. I take out my Ray-Bans from the handbag.
“Don’t you go spinning those sunglasses under my nose now,” Ma smiles and puts the large kitchen knife next to all the onions she has chopped up.
“I promise, I will never, ever, spin my sunglasses under your nose again.”
Ma cleans her hands on a towel, looks at me, from top to bottom a couple of times, and nods, “Little Lady, I think that you look like a serious businesswoman.”
“Thank you!” I take a couple of jazz steps towards the kitchen door.

When I put my feet on the porch, I stop and look at the water cedars that grow in the swamp. For a second, I think that maybe those things, monsters, might be watching me now. Waiting for an opportunity to attack us again. I glance at my wrist watch. I’ll be back long before nightfall, so Ma must be safe.
I quickly walk down to the car and, once seated, I take out the Colt 1911 and put it next to me, turn the key, and listen to the powerful engine warming up. The noise turns into a slow spinning sound, and I gently press the gas pedal. Slowly, the Oldsmobile rolls towards the narrow road. I honk so Ma knows that I’m on my way. I slowly glide down the narrow road, thinking about everything that can go wrong.
When the rusty old bridge comes into sight, I slow down. The clonking, metallic sound dies away when the car rolls onto the gravel after passing the bridge. I steer towards the small parking lot and brake. The gear goes into neutral, and I pull the hand brake. The engine is still spinning, and there’s the familiar click when I open the door.
I put the 1911 on the car roof and breathe deeply. I stare at the swamp’s dark vegetation, and the horrible memory of how Sister Cecile opened the front door to the orphanage and pushed me out appears in my mind. “Happy eighteenth birthday, stupid!” That’s what she said when she closed the door. Thinking of how cruel a person she was, the anger bubbles up within me. She was supposed to serve God, be a good person, but… I slam my fist on the car roof. “Dammed! That’s why I never went back to a church again.” I pick up a stone and throw it at the old, rusty bridge. It misses and falls into the water with a splash. I throw another, and this one hits the bridge. Clang! It bounces back from the rusty steel beam. My eyes go to the swamp again, and I pick up the gun. I point it in all directions, “Damn you, Sister Cecile!” The gun goes back onto the car roof. I think about alcohol, the pills, suicide, that first night, alone. I brace myself and bite my lips, remembering the waiting room at the New Orleans train station. All alone, afraid, clinging to my father’s old, green suitcase. Two unshaven men had been looking at me all the time. Finally, an old woman sat down next to me, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up, she had left.
“You’re not alone, Betty Lee.”
I swing around with the gun in my hand! It’s the same voice as the night before. The safe goes off, and my eyes follow the swamp’s tree line, a glance at the bridge, and then I look down the road that leads to Alligator. There’s no one there. I wait and listen. Then my heart freezes. I hear the giggling from what must be the two girls from inside the swamp.
For a moment, I think about shouting something to them, but then I remember that the creatures are inside the swamp and that it was stupid of me to stop here alone. With the gun in my hand, I get into the car, close the door, release the hand brake, and with spinning wheels, I take off towards Alligator in a big dust cloud.
But then I look in the rear mirror, and there they are! The two girls are standing in the middle of the road and wave to me. I slam my feet on the brake, neutral goes in, and I jump out of the car. “Hey, you!”
All of a sudden, the air around them starts to vibrate, and they’re gone! I look towards the swamp. It’s impossible, how could they just have disappeared, without leaving a trace? I take a deep breath, “Hey! Whoever you are, stay away from me! Do you hear me?” I wait for a couple of minutes, but the only reply is the usual concert of birds, insects, and frogs from the swamp. I stroke my neck a couple of times with my left hand. Something tells me that these girls don’t want to hurt me. They are not like the creatures from the other night. I must be very careful with those, those monsters.
I climb into the car, close the door, and slowly drive towards Alligator, all the time thinking about what a strange place this is.

My yellow metallic Oldsmobile glides past the store. I gently turn the steering wheel to the left and park to the side of the gas station. My eyes move from left to right just to make sure that the deputy isn’t there; if he were, I would leave and come back at some other moment.
I glance at the seat, pick up the 1911, and put it in the glove compartment, open the door, and step out with the small box of glass bottles under my arm. After I close the car door, I snap open the flap on my handbag and walk towards the gas station.
Troy comes out of the small office, “Hey, you’re back!”
“Yes, I’m back with that box of hot sauce you said I could sell here,” I hold up the box with both my hands.
“Uh, yes, that, that hot sauce, hmm,” he looks at the store while scratching his chin.
It looks like he has changed his mind. I take off my sunglasses and smile at him, “Can I, perhaps, leave the box here?” Then I blink.
He quickly pulls out his comb from his right back pocket and combs his hair using both hands, “Well, what the heck. Nothing bad in selling some hot sauce at a gas station, I suppose.” He puts the comb back in the pocket and stretches out his hands, “Miss, give me that box, I’ll put it next to the camping gas, we sell that too. Sports fishers, they buy it for cooking up their catch, so maybe if they see the sauce, they’ll buy some bottles.”
I hand him the box, and then I take out a folded paper from my handbag and hand it to him.
Troy unfolds the paper and reads silently, then he smiles at me and reads it loud, “Louisiana Ruby Red Hot Sauce, best in the State, just fifteen cents a bottle. Best roast beef sandwiches to go. Full menu. Special for sports fishers. Drive to or stop at the dock at Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.” He gives me a smile, “Well, that sounds really good!” He looks at the paper, bites his lips, and then he puts the box next to the camping gas bottles, “Give me a minute, Miss.”
I watch him take off towards the small, wooden office that is covered in registration plates and publicity signs, anything from Dr. Culpepper to Castrol Motor Oil. Behind it is a small wooden garage, with an odd-shaped car covered with a large, plastic tarpaulin, and then just next to the road, the Gulf Sign with its bright colours.
A man comes out from Fontenot’s store, lights a cigarette, and leans against the wall. I’m sure he’s watching what I’m doing and will call the Sheriff and tell him that he saw me here. Small towns are like this.
The office door flings open, “Hey, Miss!”
I turn towards Troy, who has a big cardboard in his hands and an even bigger smile painted on his lips.
“Your paper was so small, so, well, I thought that it wouldn’t draw any attention at all, so I put your text on one of these big boards, you see.” He takes a deep breath, “And I, I, uhum, I added something.”
“Added something?”
His smile goes away, “Well, if you don’t like it, yeah, I’ll, I can take it away!”
“Could you please show me what it is?” I remove my Ray-Bans and step forward, curious to know what he has added.
“Look at this!” He flips the board towards me, the big smile is back, and reads out loud what he has added, “We’ll prepare your catch anyway you want! Cajun or Creole!” His eyes are fixed on me, just like a dog that has thrown the stick in front of its owner and waits for some approval.
“Mr. Mr. Troy… I, I don’t know… what…”
“You like it, yes? I know you do!” He points at the gas pump, “I’ll put it right next to the pump so everyone can see it!” The dog's face comes back, and his smile is even bigger.
I blink and look at the cardboard. The texting is very good, and he has copied everything I had written down. I bite my lips, glance at the store, and then back at Troy. “It’s, well, I…” I stammer a bit, but then my voice goes back to normal, “Mr. Troy, I do think that’s a great idea!”
“Yes!” He takes two steps forward and points at the bottom of the cardboard, “Look at this!”
I glance at the text that is written upwards to the side and read it out, “The World Famous Louisiana Ruby Red Hot Sauce. Now sold here! Only 20 cents a bottle!” My eyes are fixed on the price, “You raised it to twenty cents.”
Troy takes a deep breath, “Miss, I’m sorry, but fifteen cents seems too cheap. People pay more for ordinary, how should I say, normal hot sauce, and, hum, I can tell that this is Ma’s hot sauce, which…”
“Ma’s hot sauce! How do you know that?”
Troy glances towards the store and then back to me, his smile has gone, and he lowers his voice, “I’ve gone many times to buy from Ma. My friends, we used to have a party on the beach.” The smile is back on his lips, “And, well, we would buy boil from Ma and spend the day there…”
“Did you by any chance forget an empty bottle on the stairs leading up to my restaurant?”
He immediately straightens up, “No, Miss! I would, uh, we would always pick up everything, leaving the beach clean. Uh, well, other young people from around here also used the beach, a little bit of liberty, you know?”
I give him one of my sugar smiles, “You’re very honest, Mr. Troy.”
Troy takes a couple of steps forward until he’s almost face-to-face with me. I take a step back. He looks down on his feet, looks up at me, and steps back too, “Sorry, Miss, I got too close. That was not my intention, I’m very, uh, sorry, I, I already said that, didn’t I?”
A one-second smile flies over my face, and I put on my Ray-Bans.
“You know, I figure that this way you can make more money! People come here and fish on the weekends. And you could prepare their catch, you charge them for the extras and the drinks. What do you think?” Now he resembles that little dog even more.
I touch my lips with my right index finger and cross my left foot over my right foot, “To be honest, I think that it’s an awfully good idea!”
“Lots of rich people come here on the weekends, I can tell by their cars. You could make good money on that.”
“That’s very unselfish of you, Mr. Troy.”
“Unselfish? Hell no! The more cars that come here, the more money the gas station makes! I could even ask for a salary raise!” He smiles at me, but then he lowers his eyes and looks down on the ground, “Sorry, Miss, I made, kind of, the same mistake again. I know that you don’t approve of swearing.”
“Never mind,” I wave my right hand in front of me a couple of times. “Thank you for helping me. And, maybe, you should study economics?”
“Miss, I just want to race! I love cars, and your Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight Rocket is one of the best examples of what we can do in this country.” He quickly glances down at the gravel, “You know, that, that, yellow, metallic paint your car has, is just right for you.” He looks down at the gravel again while his hands squeeze the cardboard.
“That’s because I have blue eyes.”
He glances up at me like a shy schoolboy.
I put on my Ray Ban’s and look at my wristwatch, “Thank you so much for your kindness, but I must really leave now. I must prepare if, by chance, any customer would turn up.”
“You can be sure that hungry, well, I, yeah, customers, will turn up!” He holds up the cardboard, “I’ll put it just next to the pump so everyone can see it, and if they ask, I’ll say that your restaurant is the best around here!”
“How can you say that if you haven’t visited it yet, apart from your beach parties?”
“It’s the only one around here!” His big smile is back, “Apart from the two bars where, uh, fishermen and workers go, to, like, have a drink. But I’ve never eaten there! Don’t think they have any food.”
There’s a click when I open the car door, “So then you’re not lying, Mr. Troy.”
“Of course not!” He blinks, and then he glances at the store. The man is still outside, watching us. “Miss, I really hope you have success with your business. We need more people like you here, to build this up, turn it into a favourite tourist area.” He glances back at the man outside the store.
“But?” I turn the key, and the engine starts to spin.
“Just keep to your own.”
“Own?”
“It’s okay, if you, uh, if, if…”
“I know what you want to say…” I hesitate for a moment and glance at the man at the store.
“They stopped you on the road, right?” Troy’s voice is very low.
I pull down my sunglasses and look at him, “How do you know that?”
“Small town, Miss.” He is silent for a moment, but then his face shines up, and the brightness comes back to his eyes, “I’ll hang it just next to the pump! Just where the gas canisters are and where I’ll put your hot sauce, what do you think?”
“I think that you’re a good man, Mr. Troy, I really do.” I press the gas pedal and turn the steering wheel to the left. The car makes a U-turn, and I roll towards the road.
Troy waves to me, “Take care, Miss! Good luck with your business!”

I have a last look in the rear mirror and turn on the radio. Troy is hanging the sign on the wall next to the pump, and the man has thrown away his cigarette and opens the door to the store. The radio man announces that he’ll play Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changing” and that Dylan played in Sydney three days ago.

11:16 AM, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

I turn off the engine. The car is neatly parked on the right side of the restaurant. I push the glove compartment closed after putting the 1911 and the extra magazines into my handbag.
My feet land on the gravel, and I step out and have a look around. Everything is quiet, but from now on I’ll always lock the car.
Ma comes out onto the porch and waves to me, “I heard you honk! How did it go at the gas station?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I’ve changed.” I hurry up the stairs and give Ma a little hug. “It went very well.”
“You stop that hugging right now! You’re going to smell of garlic!” She pats me on the shoulder, and I take two steps back. “Girl, do you want some coffee?”
“Sure, I’d love to have a cup. I’ll see you in the kitchen in a minute,” I smile, and I step past her on my way to my room.

When I walk out into the hallway after changing into my white blouse and black skirt, just in case someone would turn up, I stop and smell the newly brewed coffee. There’s a smile on my lips when I walk into the kitchen.
Ma looks up from the kitchen table and stretches a cup to me, “Here you go! Fresh from the pot.”
“Thank you, Ma.” I have a seat at the desk and try the coffee, stir it, and decide to let it cool down a little. “Troy, Mr. Troy, the man who works at the gas station, said that we could leave the hot sauce there.” I stir the coffee again, “He also made a cardboard sign, very well wrote, that we would prepare the catch, you know, sports fishers, they come here and we could prepare the fish they catch out at sea.” I sip some coffee, now it’s just perfect. “They can come here, we’ll cook or grill it, and then we’ll charge them for the extras, salad, drinks, and…”
“That’s an awfully good idea!” Ma claps her hands a couple of times, “It is, it is! Did he include the roast beef sandwiches?”
“Yes, he did.” I have some more coffee. “He was very kind to me.” I put down the cup, and for a moment I think about telling her about the two girls I saw at the bridge, but then I decide that it’s better not to upset her after the experience with the creatures, the monsters, the other night.
“What are you thinking about?” Ma has immediately caught my change of mood.
“Nothing special,” I wave my hand in front of me a couple of times. “I was just thinking about those, well, those…”
“Creatures from the swamp?”
“Yes.”
“Did you order the lights?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
I finish the coffee and look at Ma, “When I arrived at the gas station, a man came out from the store. He was watching me all the time that I was talking to Troy, Mr. Troy, that is.”
“So you didn’t want to go in there afterwards because he could make you questions, am I wrong?” Ma picks up my empty cup and walks over to the sink to wash the cup and spoon.
“Yes,” I lean forward and put my chin in the palm of my right hand. “As you said: keep away from the town folk and try to make customers from other places.” Then it hits me, it comes like a flash to my mind, and I jump up from the chair, “I got it!”
Ma steps back with her hands raised in front of her, “You scared me, girl! What do you have?”
“Troy, he was right! He was absolutely right!”
“Right? How?”
“The sign at the gas station! That’s where we’re going to get the customers from!”
“Gas stations?” Ma puts her hands down and dries them on her apron.
“Yes! I’m going to put publicity at all the gas stations in this part of the state. People need a car to come here, and everyone has to fill up their deposit, so…” I smile at Ma.
“So, you put the publicity at the gas stations!” She straightens out her apron, “Do you think that they will let you?”
“Ma, most gas stations have a billboard so people can put up information, notes, I mean. Even the town halls and societies use them. Most people have a car these days.”
“White people have cars. We, black people, have to wait to buy cars, we ain’t making so much money, yet.”
“Something tells me that we could have black customers coming here, you know how?”
Ma shakes her head, “No, I don’t.”
“Buses! Somehow, we could get black people to come here in buses.”
“Rent buses, you mean? That’s expensive!”
“You just let me think about it, and I’ll figure it out.” I sit down at the table and take out my notebook and a pen from my handbag. “Now, let’s see. We need a camera, a print shop, a stapler, and some nice pictures. What kind of pictures should we have on the publicity?”
“Lord Nelson, that old pelican, he’s, well, pelicans are on our state flag, aren’t they?”
“That’s right!”
“And we could put a table, you know how to put nice tables, with two huge plates of shrimps on them, some flowers and…”
“An American flag.” I blink and think for a second, “We could do a 4 of July special!”
Ma snaps her fingers, “Girl! That’s another good idea!”
“I love being creative, Ma.”

12:09 PM.

There’s a reflection in the glass I just put on the table. The sun is shining brightly, and there isn’t a single cloud on the horizon. I look at the four tables I put and consider that four is enough. If we have four tables with customers, we can consider ourselves lucky. I turn around and walk into the restaurant with the tray under my right arm.
Ma is inside, in the kitchen. I can hear the noise of pots being moved, some banging of a ladle, and Ma’s happy voice, “Lord, today I feel like doing some real good Southern cooking, so, Lord, let plenty of hungry people come to the restaurant and enjoy this rich Louisiana Gumbo that I have prepared. Amen!”
I start to laugh when the banging intensifies.
Ma peeks out from the kitchen, “Have you been drinking, girl?”
I wipe a tear from my eye and straighten up, “No, Ma! No drinking here!”
“You can have a beer at night, but not now!” She holds up the ladle in the air as if it were a police baton. “I made six of them roast beef sandwiches; they’re all in the refrigerator, in paper bags, and I put some paper napkins in each bag.”
“Let’s hope somebody comes.”
Ma goes back into the kitchen and bangs the ladle on a pot, “I’ll make some of my famous potato salad now, and you can rest assured that someone will turn up because I just asked the Lord to send some customers, and the Lord never fails, girl.”
I step into the kitchen, wishing that I had Ma’s faith.

First, I don’t hear it, or I don’t pay any attention, but slowly the tuck-tuck-tuck becomes louder, and then I hear the squawking of the seagulls. I look at the open back door, it can’t be, I’m sure of it. The sound of the Diesel engine becomes louder; they must be coming here.
“Ma! There’s a boat coming!”
“A boat?” She looks over her shoulder and drops another peeled potato into the cold water to get rid of the starch.
I throw the knife on the cutting board and rush towards the half-open back door and pull it open. For a second, I’m blinded by the sunlight. I blink and put my hand up to block out the sun, and there it is, a white trawler, with several persons at the bow. One, who seems to be only a girl, waves her hand. I step out and do the same. Then they all wave at me.
“Hey! Ma, come out! There’s a trawler, a fishing boat, coming here, and it has, I don’t know, several passengers!”
Ma looks over my shoulder, with a big bowl where she’s mixing potato salad in her hands, “Lord Mighty, that, that, really is a fishing boat, shrimp trawler.” She blinks several times, “And, I think you’re right, they do look like passengers.”
“They’re here for the roast beef sandwiches!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Why else would they come here?” It only takes me a second to think out what I’m going to do, “Ma, I’m going to go down to the dock and wait for them. Maybe we should have something ready for them, like some kind of…I don’t know.”
“Welcoming treat!”
“Welcoming treat?”
“Yes, I’ll slice up some ham, bread, tomatoes, and…”
“Canapés!”
“Creps?”
“No!” I clap my hands a couple of times and smile at Ma. “They’re called canapés, something to snack on when you wait to order.”
“You did French cooking school, too?”
“No, Ma! I was sitting at the library all those lonely afternoons after I worked at the ice-cream parlour, I, well, I just didn’t…”
“You didn’t want to go back to some dirty, cheap room that you rented!”
The memories of my first day, alone in big New Orleans, come back. I glance at my wrist watch, put my right hand over my mouth, and finally react, “Ma, get them, whatever, on a plate and some glasses with, with…”
“Iced tea!” Ma steps back into the kitchen and becomes the efficient cook she has always been.
I pull out my big waiter's purse from the first drawer of the desk and hang it on my waist. The snub nose and a moon clip are inside it. I’m not taking any risks since we saw the creatures. The 1911 is in the drawer under the bar, together with the spare magazines. I straighten out the black skirt and the white apron; my blouse is whiter than Colgate. I smile at Ma, “How do I look?”
She glances over her shoulder, “Well, I think that you have the look of a French waitress, something coming out of a cheap movie called, maybe something like Cafe de Paris.”
I giggle, “Ma, that’s garlic and spice flavoured butter they put on steaks!”
“I knew I heard it somewhere, maybe on the radio.” She claps her hands, “Come on! You have to be at the dock before they arrive.”

I’m almost jumping down the stairs, and once on the path, I hurry towards the dock as fast as I can, thinking about how inconvenient skirts are for waitresses.
Lord Nelson stretches his neck and waves his large wings when I run up the dock. He’s probably doing his best to welcome our first guests arriving by boat.
“I’ll give you a big fish if you do your best to look happy!”
Lord Nelson immediately quacks a couple of times and raises his wings. He must be happy to see the shrimp trawler.
It seems that there are two families on the trawler. I wave to them again, “Hey! Welcome to Point Beignet!”
The sound of the Diesel engine dies away, and the trawler silently glides towards the dock. A man with a beard, the one that I saw at the store once, the one with the black shirt who was together with that man named Alf, comes out from the wheelhouse. He picks up a rope from the deck, and when the trawler is slowly coming in sideways towards the dock, he throws it to me.
“Tie this to the dock!”
I quickly pick it up and tie it to the pole next to Lord Nelson, “Done!”
The skipper runs into the wheelhouse, and the engine goes into reverse, and the trawler stops. The kids are all cheering and waving their hands.
When the engine dies out, he comes out again and starts pulling on the rope. There’s a dull sound when the trawler hits the dock. “The stern is done. Come on and help me with the aft!”
There’s a smile on my face because I have just learnt two new words, and there are seven passengers, seven! I hope they’ll all stay for lunch.
“What are you waiting for?” The man waves to me. When I run towards the back of the white painted trawler, he tosses the rope to me. “Tie her to the dock!”
I pick up the rope and make one of those knots that I learnt so long ago from my father. I look at the man and notice the approval in his eyes. “Pull her in!”
When the trawler is tied to the dock, he pulls up a gangway from the deck and places it over the boat's side. Then he scratches his neck and looks at me without saying anything.
“Nice to see you again,” I try to smile. He still doesn’t say anything, so I direct my attention towards the passengers, “Welcome to Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.”
“Uh, Miss, these people are here because they want to know what that sign you put up at the gas station is all about.”
I look at the skipper and then at the two families that all have expectation painted on their faces. I give them my best smile, “Oh, it's that so? Well, we have the best roast beef sandwiches and beverages available, so you can enjoy your fishing trip.”
“How about that thing about preparing our catch?” A tall, clean-shaven man with his short cut hair combed backwards smiles at me.
“Well, that is, um, you, we can prepare anything you catch and prepare it here, restaurant style, that is, so you can enjoy your fish, the view of the sea, relax, and, well... enjoy the afternoon.”
“That sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it, John?” The woman next to the tall man pats him on his shoulder.
“Well, it all depends on if you catch anything,” I smile again.
“Miss, you don’t have to worry about that!” The man with the beard looks as if he were about to spit into the water, but then he remembers his passengers and coughs, “I’ve been fishing here for almost twenty years, and I can guarantee you that I’ll take them out to the best places. There will be fish on the table.” He pushes his hands down into the pockets of his work pants and mumbles something.
“That’s why we rented your boat, trawler I mean, you seem to be a competent man,” the black-haired man has a happy look on his face.
“Going to check on the engine,” the skipper disappears into the wheelhouse.
“Come on, kids, let's get onto the dock!” The tall man waves to the kids.
The kids swarm down the gangway, and I find myself surrounded by two boys and a girl with a lot of freckles, just like me. She points at Lord Nelson, “Miss, is that? Can I get closer to your pelican? He isn’t dangerous, is he?”
“No, he isn’t, please go and have a look at him.” Lord Nelson waves his wings and quacks a lot when the freckled girl carefully touches him with a finger. I promise myself to give Lord Nelson an extra-large, specially oily, fish. The girl jumps back and giggles. The two boys laugh at her.
“We’re the Marcus and Bloomberg families!” The tall man stops next to me. “We’re from Mercury, Nevada. This is my wife, Roberta, and the girl and her brother are Maria and Matthew. My name is John.”
A smaller man, with blond, crew cut hair, gives me a smile, “I’m Tom Bloomberg, the best wife in the world is Andrea, and our son is Henry. He puts his arm over his wife's shoulder. She blinks at him.
“Welcome, I’m Betty Lee Thibodaux, the owner of this, the restaurant, and the pelican, well, his name is Lord Nelson. He’s been here forever.”
“You got a lot of freckles too, Miss!” Maria smiles at me, but then she remembers that she has a broken tooth and puts both her hands in front of her mouth.
“Maria!” Roberta’s voice is sharp. “Mind your manners!”
For a second, there’s silence. I lean down and pat her on her head, “What happened to that tooth?”
“Accident, Miss,” Maria looks away with her hands behind her back.
I pat her on her head again, “You know, Maria, that we girls with freckles are like a special club.”
“Is that true, Miss?” There’s a glow in her eyes now.
“We’re the Freckled Girls Secret Society,” I whisper in her ear.
“Really? At school, they make fun of my freckles, Miss.”
“You shouldn’t think too much about that; they’re just jealous because they will never be admitted into the Secret Society.”
The smile on Maria’s face becomes a large half-moon, and she forgets about her broken tooth. “Thank you for not laughing at me.”
“The first rule of the Freckled Girls Secret Society is to never laugh at a fellow girl, even if she has a broken tooth.
Maria reaches up and hugs me.
“Come, I’ll show all of you around, and we've got something waiting for you out on the porch.”
Maria is quick to grab my right hand, and we both walk down the stairs from the dock.
Just as we step onto the sand, Maria pulls on my hand, “Miss, I forgot something!”
“What did you forget?”
“I didn’t say goodbye to Lord Nelson.” She looks up at me, waits a second, and then she lets go of my hand and turns around and waves to the old pelican, “I’ll be back in a moment, you just stay put there!” Then she grabs my hand again, now with both of her hands, “Miss, I never saw a pelican that near. In fact, it’s the only pelican that I have ever seen.”
“So there are no pelicans in Nevada?”
“No, Miss, there are no pelicans in Nevada.” She hesitates for a moment, “But, I’ve, sometimes you know, I see things, strange things, in the sky at night.” She glances up at me, blinks, and looks down at the sand.
Before I have time to answer her, Henry rushes past us and jumps up and down on the beach, “Mum! Can I go swimming here?”
Andrea catches up with her son and strokes him over his hair, “You can, but in the afternoon, after we’re back from our fishing trip.”
“Stop it, Mum!” Henry steps away from his mother.
“Boys,” Maria squeezes my hand.

Maria and I take the lead up the path towards the restaurant.
Roberta leans towards Andrea and whispers, “She, Betty Lee, seems to be a nice person.”
“Yes, she does.” Andrea’s voice is also low, but then it takes on a joyful ring: “Look how nice this place is!” She stops and points at the beach, “Look at that white sand, the blue sea, and then all of the green trees.”
Roberta smiles at her friend, “Would you like to live here?”
“Tom always talks about retiring to Florida, but I think this must be an equally good place.”
Matthew sprints past his mother, followed by Henry. They pass us, and Maria gives her older brother an angry stare, “I once tried to make him read poetry, but he went and turned on the television.”
“Boys, Maria, as you said, boys.” Something just made me feel happy, the memory of my dad.
Maria glances up at me, and then she leans on my side.

Roberta turns back and looks at her husband, who is talking to Tom on the beach, “Even if they’re on vacation, they never stop talking about work.”
“Do you think that we’re on vacation?” Andrea smiles at her friend.
Roberta immediately stops, puts her hand over her mouth, looks at Andrea, and is silent for a moment, “He, he got a phone call in the middle of the night and…”
“And my husband too. Tom came back saying that the Air Force owed him so much overtime that they had decided to give him a couple of days off.”
“And John called Tom in the morning, talking about going on a fishing trip to Louisiana because he also had so much overtime that…”
“And here we are, a wonderful place, a fantastic beach, a nice restaurant, and does it seem to you that they, our husbands, are talking about fishing?”
Roberta watches as her husband, John, points to the sky, with a Camel between his fingers, drawing a straight line towards the restaurant. Tom has put his hands in his pockets and nods. The smile disappears from Roberta’s face, she thinks for a moment, and just as she is about to say something, her husband becomes aware of her.
John holds up his hand, still with the cigarette between his fingers, “Honey, we’ll be right with you!”
“Men talking fish!” Andrea smiles at Roberta and pats her on the shoulder.
Roberta shakes her head.

There’s a creak from the kitchen door, and Ma peeks out to see what’s going on. She looks down on all of us with a little smile, “Good day to all of you!” But her smile disappears, and her face becomes like rock when she looks at the trawler.
I turn around and see how the boat’s owner stares at Ma.
“Betty Lee, I must continue in the kitchen,” she quickly closes the door.
“That’s your cook?” John has caught up with us, pats Maria on her head, and gives me a smile.
My lips tremble a little, but I manage to smile back, “Come! I’ll show you the restaurant.”
“Miss, in school, they tell us that we’re all equal,” Maria is almost whispering while squeezing my hand. I squeeze her hand too.

When we are all up on the porch, Roberta turns to me, “This is such a nice place. I suppose that you must be very happy here.”

I point at the clean, polished steel tables, “This is the start. There is still a lot of work to be done. We must improve our installations and service.” I let go of Maria’s hand and cross my arms. I just made a mistake.
“We?” Roberta smiles at me, “So then you have a partner?”
Maria grabs my hand again, “The black lady is your partner, am I right?”
They all look at me. My lips flicker when I try to smile.
John claps his hands, “Let’s see the inside of this lovely Louisiana restaurant. He steps forward and slides his hand over the surface of one of the tables, “Not even the Strategic Air Command could reach this level of cleanliness.”
There’s a flash before my eyes. I suspected that he and Tom could be in the military, but now I’m almost sure of it. This time, I managed to give them my best toothpaste smile, “Please come inside and have a look. I’ll invite you for some coffee.”
“Coffee! Miss, you just said the magic word!” John has a happy smile on his face.
Roberta looks at Andrea, “John could live on coffee.”
Maria pulls on my hand, “Come on, show me your restaurant.”

Once inside, they all look impressed with what they see. We always try to keep things as clean as possible, to make a good first impression, and now I know that it pays off. I point at the sofas and then at the bar, “We have a space where people can relax.” Then I point at the door to the left, “The restrooms are over there.”
Henry looks at his mother, who nods. In a second, he has disappeared into the restrooms.
“Would you like to sit outside or inside?” Maria is still holding on to my hand.
“Oh, I think that it would be better to sit outside, it’s a wonderful day,” Andrea looks happy at the idea of sitting outside.
“Yes, and we can have a view of the swamp. Not too many swamps in Nevada,” Tom puts his hand on his wife’s shoulder.
“Decided! We’ll have that coffee outside!” John looks even happier. “And, Miss, could we have seven of those fabulous roast beef sandwiches to take with us?”
Henry steps out from the restrooms. Maria looks up at me, tries to say something, hesitates, and then she lets go of my hand. The restroom door clicks closed behind her.
“Have a seat outside while I prepare your sandwiches and coffee. Would you like to have some drinks together with them?”
Tom looks at the group and then back at me. “Five Cokes and,” he quickly looks at his wife who blinks, “two beers, please.”
John walks towards the entrance, “Let’s have a seat in the sun.” The whole group follows him except for Maria, who is still in the restroom.

“Ma!” I push open the kitchen door, “Seven roast beef sandwiches!” I walk up to the coffee brewer and turn it on.
“I made six already, so I just have to make one more.” She takes out a loaf of bread and slices two big pieces. She always surprises me with how fast she can work. Just as the smell of newly brewed coffee fills the kitchen, she turns around and holds up a big roast beef sandwich. Then she quickly wraps it up in some waxed paper, has a look around, and picks up the big basket that she uses when she harvests vegetables from her garden. “I’ll think that this will do, what do you think?”
“It’ll be perfect,” I take out the bottles from the refrigerator and put them into the basket.
“What do they think about the restaurant?”
I smile at Ma, “I think that they like it, but there’s something…”
“Something?”
“Yes, I slipped and said that, we, you know, we had to fix some more things here and then, they asked if I had a partner.”
“And?”
“The tallest, his name is John, quickly changed the subject, he gives me the impression that he must be some kind of…”
“Policeman?”
“Dad’s an Air Force pilot.”
We both look at the kitchen door. Maria must have been there all the time without us noticing.
“Dad is here because they want to find something.” Maria closes the kitchen door behind her, “I heard him talk to Tom the other morning. Just before we flew down here.”
“Find something?” I shrug my shoulders, “What?”
“The creatures.”
Maria and I turn towards Ma.
“That’s the only thing that could have drawn their attention to this place,” Ma frenetically cleans her hands on a towel.
“Creatures? What creatures?” Maria looks at me with her big eyes. “Are you hiding something?”
“No! We don’t hide anything. We just…” I lick my lips and don’t know what to say.
“Did you see something in the sky?” Maria comes closer and takes my hand again.
“Have you seen something, too?” Ma has stopped cleaning her hands.
Maria squeezes my hand and is silent for a moment, then she nods a couple of times. “I did,” she says, her eyes fixed on the floor.
“In Nevada? It scared you?” I pass my hand over her hair.
She looks up at me and smiles, “It’s my secret. I saw a large, large metal disc in the sky once. It was just before Christmas and…”
“15 December?” I just remembered what Jack, the boy at Fontenot’s store, had said.
“That’s right, Miss, how do you know?”
“A boy here, he said, that he also saw something on that day.” I bite my lips and draw a deep breath, “Does your, your, parents know about this?”
Maria nods, looks at Ma, and then at me, “Dad told me not to talk about this.”
“He did?”
Maria nods again.
“So why do you tell us?” Ma has taken a step forward and is folding the towel, but it slips from her hands and falls onto the floor.
Maria jumps forward and picks it up, “Here you go, Mrs.?”
“Ma, just Ma,” Ma stretches out her hand and takes the towel from Maria’s hand.
“If I close my eyes, I couldn’t tell your colour, and you couldn’t tell mine either if you did the same.”
Both Ma and I must have a stupid expression painted on our faces because Maria giggles, becomes aware of her broken tooth, and quickly puts her hand over her mouth.
“Thank you…” Ma smiles at Maria.
“Maria, I’m Maria.”
“So what happened after you, well, you saw that metal disc in the sky?” I stroke my hand over my mouth to wipe away the stupid expression.
Maria is silent for a moment, looking from one side to the other. She scratches her neck and looks at me, “Dad told me not to tell anyone about this, he said that they would laugh at me, but that he believed me. He told me that there had been more sightings, at the Proving Ground and…”
“Proving Ground, what’s that?” Ma’s eyes are wide open.
“That’s where they test the nuclear weapons, nowadays it’s only made underground because of safety reasons.”
Maria smiles at me, “Miss, you know something about Nevada.”
“And there’s a place called Las Vegas where people go to gamble, am I right?”
“You are! We visited Las Vegas last autumn!” Maria has a happy look on her face; it must be because someone from the Freckled Girls Secret Society knows things about the place she lives. But then her smile disappears, “So you saw… some creatures?”
Ma quickly shakes her head and blinks at me. I draw a deep breath and think for a second before answering, “We saw something one night. I’m not sure what it was, it was dark and they…”
“They?” Maria’s eyes have become big with surprise.
“Yes, they, well, it was something, three of them, and then they just disappeared, as they had never been there.”
“It happened just outside of my house,” Ma rubs her hands against the towel nervously.
“So that’s why you live here now?”
Ma and I both look at each other.
“I know it. I’m not stupid.”
“Who said that you are stupid?” I stroked her over her shoulder a couple of times.
“Some, some boys and girls at the school. They make fun of me because of my freckles, and when I broke my tooth, they all laughed and…” Maria’s voice dies away, she looks to the side and clasps her hands behind her.
“Lord Mighty, what unpleasant people!” Ma scratches her neck.
“I won’t tell anyone that you are partners and that Ma lives here.” She thinks for a moment, “And I won’t say a word about what you told me about those creatures.” She grabs hold of her red dress with the white polka dots and squeezes the cotton with both hands. Then she leans to the right, looks up at me, and her blue eyes turn into an ocean.
I look down on the little, skinny, black-haired girl with ponytails and a broken tooth. I put my hands on my hips, and my eyes must be like X-rays because she immediately looks away, “Do you give me your word?”
Her eyes spring back at me, and that one-tooth smile melts my heart. She takes a deep breath and holds up two fingers in the air, “Freckled Girls Secret Society word!”
My hands fall from my hips. One second, ten seconds, two years, time stands still. I step forward and hug her. I don’t want to let go of her. She squeezes me so hard that my ribs hurt. “I, I must go and put the coffee and those, sandwiches and…”
“The canapés!” Ma walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a tray. It has all types of delicious-looking canapés on it.
“When did you do that?” I stare at the tray.
Ma just smiles and holds it in front of Maria, “Please, try one with my home-smoked trout.”
Maria is quick to pick up one with smoked trout on it, look at it with her big eyes, and then it disappears. A big smile appears on her face, “Ma, that was, really…”
“A well-smoked trout!” Ma looks happy.
I put the coffee pot on another tray, together with the cups, cream, and sugar, and then I look at Maria, “Could you bring the other tray?”
“Yes, of course I can!” Maria jumps up and down a couple of times. Then she takes hold of the tray and leads the way out through the kitchen door.
Ma pats me on my shoulder, “Well, little lady, it seems that you have made a new friend!”
I smile at Ma and then try to catch up with Maria, who is now at the entrance.

When we step out on the porch, we find that the two families are engaged in a conversation about fishing in Montana. John laughs and slaps his knees when Tom reaches over the table and tells him something about almost falling into the river when they were fly fishing. Andrea has a proud smile on her face, and Matthew is stretching out his hands to show Henry the enormous size of the biggest fish that he has ever caught.
I put down the tray on a table and start to pour coffee into the four cups. Maria has put the tray in the middle of the table where the group is sitting. She turns around and looks at the entrance after hearing a quiet uh-hum from Ma. Ma waves to her to come closer. Maria doesn’t walk up to the door; she jumps.
Ma looks at her and then hands Maria a smaller tray with three large glasses filled with freshly pressed orange juice, “Here, this is for you and the boys. I suppose that you don’t drink coffee.”
“Thank you, Ma! It’s very kind of you to think about us, little people.”

I walk back into the restaurant to get the basket with the sandwiches and the drinks.
Once in the kitchen, I look for a bottle opener, and then I watch how Ma carefully puts the seven large sandwiches, with roast beef, lettuce, relish, and mustard, that she has wrapped up in waxed paper, into the basket.
I put in the seven cold bottles and some paper napkins into the basket. Then I look at Ma, “Should we give the skipper a sandwich too?”
“No! We shouldn’t!” Ma’s voice doesn’t leave any room for doubt. She bites her lips and looks at me. “I don’t like that man! He is one of those who has to do with some of the people, who, hum, has to do with the Sheriff here.”
“Do you think he could be a…”
Ma quickly holds up her finger over her mouth and nods towards the porch.
I immediately understand that it’s better to wait for the group and the trawler to leave before making any more comments on what is going on in Alligator.

I put on my best waitress smile and step out on the porch. All the canapés are gone, and the kids' glasses are empty. Tom is sipping on his coffee, and John looks at his wife holding up his packet of cigarettes. Roberta nods. John lights his cigarette and blows out a large cloud of smoke.
“So how was the coffee?” I put the large basket on the table.
“Wonderful!” Andrea puts down her cup on the saucer.
For a second, the image of the flying disc appears before me.
“That must be the best roast beef sandwiches around here, am I right?” John blows out another cloud of smoke.
“Roast beef sandwiches? With lots of mustard?” Henry leans forward and tries to lift the towel that Ma has put over the bottles and wax paper-wrapped sandwiches, but is pulled back by Andrea. He has a guilty look on his face, but then his face changes, “Mum! I didn’t do anything bad!”
“You’ll see what your Drill Sergeant would answer to that, in the future, that is,” Tom leans back into the chair.
John jumps up from his chair, puts the cigarette in the ashtray, and reaches for his back pocket. He pulls out and opens his wallet, “Do you want me to pay you now?”
“No reason to do so.” For a second, I think about practicing my smile in front of the mirror every night. “I know that you’ll come back.”
“How do you know that?” Roberta leans over the table and looks at me.
I point at the empty tray that moments before was filled with Ma’s delicious canapés.
Tom slaps his palm on his leg, “You caught us on that one!”
John puts his wallet in his back pocket and picks up his Camel. “I promise you we’ll be back.”
Roberta nods a couple of times, and Andrea stands up from her chair, “I think that we’ll have a great day on the sea here.

I hand Roberta the basket, who, in turn, hands it to Andrea, who gives Henry the look that tells him that he is not supposed to get close to it before she tells him that he can.
Ma has opened the kitchen back door and peeks out to see what we are doing. Lord Nelson quacks, and I throw the rope to the skipper, who glances at Ma and then back at me.
“We’ll be back at about 5 PM,” he says before spitting into the water. Andrea immediately reaches over to Roberta and whispers something to her. I can see the disgust in both of their eyes.
I listen to the Diesel engines tuck-tuck-tuck. Maria frenetically waves to me, I wave back, and they disappear out to sea. The trawler becomes just a little white dot on the sea, followed by a cloud of hungry seagulls.
Lord Nelson quacks, and I turn around to Ma, “They’ll be back in the afternoon!”
Ma waves to me, “I’ll make some Special Louisiana seafood sauce for the occasion.”
As I step down from the dock onto the beach, I pat my large waitress's wallet. It’s just an instinct.

Maria runs from the aft of the trawler to join her brother, Henry, and their mothers, who are at the bow, watching how the blue water splits into two waves. The white crest on top of the waves slowly disappears behind the trawler.
John points at the big, black bag at Tom’s feet, “You got your telephoto lens with you?”
Tom nods, “And a Geiger meter, if we need it.”
“Something to collect samples?”
Tom nods again.
“Some insurance?”
Tom nods again.
“45’s?”
Tom holds up his right thumb.
The bearded skipper looks out from the wheelhouse to see what they are talking about.
“Hey! Take us to those fishing banks where you can catch those big, Louisiana fish!”
“That sounded like you were from here,” Tom smiles,
John, who knocks out a cigarette from his package, “Have to practice for retirement.”

3:48 PM, The sea off of Point Beignet.

The Skipper swears and spits on the floor of the wheelhouse, “Dammed idiots! I know where the fish are!”
John and Tom seem to be unaware of what he is saying. Tom has taken out a device from the bag. John had said it was a “fish detector”. After zig-zagging up and down the coast, Tom puts the device back into the bag and whispers something to John. John nods and stands up, “Hey! How about those roast beef sandwiches?”
Henry jumps up, “Finally!”
Tom walks up to the wheelhouse and knocks on the door.
The Skipper opens it and looks at him, “What?”
“Take us to that place you say the fish are.” He turns around, but then he glances back at the wheel house, “Seems that that fantastic fish detector didn’t work at all, I got it up in New York.”
“Dammed Yankees!” The skipper spits on the floor again before mumbling some indecent words in Creole French.

4:13 PM, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

Ma and I wave to the big, red car with New York State licence plates. The family of five, grandmother, parents, and two kids, had been more than happy to enjoy Ma’s cooking. All the plates had been scraped clean. And then the young couple that had come down from Lafayette had also left more than happy. Not to mention the happy hippopotamus smile on the fat, bald man’s lips when he had laid down his fork on the empty plate. “Best shrimps I ever had,” he’d said. The other couple and his wife had confirmed that those actually were the best shrimps they had ever had.
The red car disappears down the narrow dirt road.
“Little Lady, this is going to be a good day for us,” Ma pats me on my left shoulder. “Did you see how happy that young couple was? They couldn’t take their eyes off each other.” Ma blinks, “Maybe you should get yourself a husband, Betty Lee? Henry was the best thing in my life.”
For a second, the peculiar smell of Wahl Hair Pommade, and the breath of alcohol fills my nose. I shake my head and look away, “No, Ma. No husbands for me.”
She pats me on my shoulder again, “I’m sorry, that, I, I don’t know…”
I quickly change the subject, smile at Ma and look her in her eyes, “You know why they all left so happy? I can tell by the look in her eyes that she doesn’t, “It’s because of the mystique surrounding your Louisiana cooking.”
“Mystique? I, I, well, like that word, it has a special ring to it!” Ma has a big smile on her lips. “Did you ever try to write copy for publicity?”
“No, I never, I was, always, always…” My mind is still where I left him, that moment, his blood on the ground and the smell of Pommade.
“What’re you thinking about, girl?”
I’m saved by the tuck, tuck, tuck of the trawler.
“Ma, they’re back!” I slap her on her shoulder.
“Ouch! That hurt girl!”
“Get that rice cooking!” I rush into the restaurant, followed by Ma. When I reach the back door, I wait for a second and hope that I haven’t been wrong. When I open the back door, I shield my eyes with my left hand and wait. After a second, I make out the large, white shrimp trawler that is coming towards us. Some tiny, faraway people wave to me. “Ma, it’s them,” I draw a big breath, wait, and release the air. “They’re back, as they promised.”
“Look at the seagulls!” Ma points at the trawler, “They have caught something big! Otherwise, those seagulls wouldn’t follow them.”
I look at Ma, “Is that so?”
Ma nods, “Seagulls don’t waste any time on an empty boat.” She turns around, but just as she is about to step into the kitchen, she stops. “I’ll make them the best food I can when I see what they have caught. But I’ll make that potato salad now. You go down and welcome them!”
The back door clicks closed behind me. I glance at it, and then I rush down the stairs to receive the two families.

The bearded man comes out and tosses me the rope. This time, he doesn’t say anything. I tie the ropes, and he pulls them in. Then he puts out the gangway. Maria immediately comes running down the gangway, hugs me, but then she steps back and stretches out her hands in the air, “Miss, we caught a really big fish! It's, it’s bigger than this!” Maria gives me a big smile; she has completely forgotten about her broken tooth.
I lean over to the right, put my hands on my hips, and look down at her with stern eyes, “Is it really that big?” I stretch all the words.
Maria leans forward and tries to widen the gap between her hands, “No lying, Miss!” Her eyes are gleaming, “And we caught smaller fish, and, just all kinds of fish!”
Henry and Matthew run down the gangway, waving their hands.
“It’s a very big fish! Looks like a Tuna but a little smaller,” Matthew nods his head a couple of times to confirm what Maria has told me.
“It’s a Yellowfin tuna!” Shouts Skipper Trudeau as he bends down and puts a rope around the tuna’s tail and hoists it up.
I look and point at it, “You should get some pictures of this!”
“That’s right!” Tom takes off the lens cover, leans over the railing, and hands it to me.
Andrea waves to the kids, “Come back on board!”
Henry, Matthew, and Maria rush up the gangway.
“Miss, take some pictures of us, please,” John gives me a big smile and positions himself next to the big Tuna. To the other side, his wife, Tom, Andrea, and the kids in front of them. Skipper Trudeau disappears into the wheelhouse.
I take a frontal picture of them, look around, and decide to find an angle that allows Lord Nelson to be in the picture. Lord Nelson is looking at the big Yellowfin with his small eyes. I find the angle and snap a picture of him.
John hands Maria a large fishing rod and waves to me, “Miss, take a picture of Maria now.”
“Okay, but Maria, come stand in front of everyone,” I point to where I want her to stand. “Did you catch the fish?”
Maria looks down at the deck without saying anything.
“She was holding the fishing rod for a moment while John had a smoke, then something suddenly bit the bait,” Tom points at Maria, and everybody nods. “She almost went overboard, but she was quick to put one foot against the railing. John and I ran there and, well, helped her to get that Tuna on board the boat.”
Maria sways from side to side, squeezing the fishing rod with both hands, still looking down at the deck. “I, I told you it was a big, big fish,” she looks at me and smiles. The broken tooth is completely forgotten now.
I move back a little and take a picture of the smiling Maria in front of the big Yellowfin. Then I think that later I will ask them to send me a copy of the picture. It would be nice to have some pictures of great fishing stories on the restaurant's walls.
John steps forward and puts his big hands on his daughter’s small shoulders, “This is a moment when any dad would be proud of his daughter!”
Maria looks down on the deck planks again, but then she looks back up at me with an ocean of light in her eyes. They tell me everything I need to know.
“I could have hauled that fish on board by myself,” Matthew points at the Yellowfin.
“I’m sure that you could have, but today it was your sister's turn to do something great,” Roberta hugs her son.
“Mum! Stop it!” Matthew loosens himself from his mother’s arms and takes a couple of steps towards Henry, who is laughing.

John steps down from the gangway with Tom right behind him, “Miss, do you have a cart or something to transport that Tuna up to the restaurant?”
I hand Tom the camera, “Yes, I do. I’ll get it right away.”
“Is it in the shed?” John points at the shed halfway up to the restaurant.
“Yes, it is.”
“Is the door unlocked?”
I nod, “Yes.”
John pats Tom on his shoulder, “Come on, let’s do some men's work, and I can have a smoke.”
They both smile at me when they pass by me and walk down from the dock.
John stops for a second and lights a cigarette, “Nothing suspicious out on the sea.”
I glance at him, but then I look back at the group, pretending that I don’t hear them.
“The Geiger meter didn’t pick up any reading at all,” Tom has lowered his voice. “Could the information have been wrong?”
My heart jumps when I hear him mention the use of a Geiger meter, but then I’m swarmed by the kids. Their mothers are just behind them. Maria, Matthew, and Henry are making a lot of noise, so I can’t hear anything more about what John and Tom are talking about.

Henry runs down the dock and onto the beach, “Mum! Can we go swimming here?” I can see the expectation in his eyes.
Andrea looks at Roberta and then at me, “Is the beach safe?”
I look at the three kids who all have their big eyes focused on me, “Well, yes, it is. But I’ll ask Ma anyway.” I quickly bite my lips, “My, I mean my cook.”
“We’re going to go swimming in the sea! Not in the swimming pool!” Maria jumps up and down and kicks up some sand. The two boys also kick up sand. Maria quickly blinks at me. She knows that nobody noticed what I just said. She takes off her sandals and wades out into the water. When it reaches just beneath her knees, she stops and starts splashing water. Henry and Matthew look at each other, they are wearing long pants and not a dress like Maria.
I smile and think that sometimes it’s better to be a girl.
“Maria! Come out of the water! Now!” Roberta waves to her.
“Is there any place they can change?” Andrea looks around, and then she points at the restaurant, “The restrooms, maybe?”
“Of course. They can change there.” I look up at the restaurant too, but my eyes are drawn to John and Tom, who are talking outside of the shed. Tom points up to the sky, and then he moves his finger towards the swamp.
John notices that I’m watching them and waves to us, “We got the cart! We’ll be right there!”
Roberta shrugs her shoulders, thinking they must be talking baseball again.

John pushes the cart up the dock and places it next to the trawler. Skipper Trudeau swings the crane over the railing and lowers the Yellowfin onto the cart.
I look at it and then at Maria, “You were lucky, that must be around a hundred and thirty pounds.”
“More like a hundred and fifty pounds,” Skipper Trudeau swings the crane back after John has loosened the rope.
“Big fish, Miss!” The ocean of light comes back to Maria’s eyes. Matthew looks away and mumbles something.
“Can I give him a fish?” Henry points at Lord Nelson.
“Of course you can. He’ll love you for it!” The waitress's smile is back on my lips.
“Could you hand us the rest of the catch?” Tom looks at the Skipper.
Skipper Trudeau silently hands him Ma’s straw basket, which is full of fish.
Lord Nelson follows the basket with his small eyes and quacks when Henry reaches for a bright red fish. He skilfully catches it mid-air with his big beak.
There’s a click from the camera, Tom looks down at the film counter, and then smiles at all of us, “That’s a great picture! I snapped it when he had his beak open, and the fish was flying towards him.”
“Am I in the picture?” Henry looks at his dad.
“Yes, you are!” Tom smiles at his son.
“Then I can tell my friends that I fed a real Louisiana pelican!”
I imagine how the fish will become bigger and bigger, and Lord Nelson larger and with more feathers every time that he tells them about his adventures on the Louisiana coast, far away from the rocky landscapes of Nevada.

“Come on, kids! Get your bags!” Roberta hands Maria a small white canvas bag. “Everyone has to carry their things.”
John takes the lead with the cart. He’s followed by Tom, who carries the basket, the wives carrying two bags each, the kids with their backpacks, and finally Maria and me behind them all. I’m the only one who doesn’t carry anything at all.
“I never saw a patch like that. What is it?” I point at a patch that is neatly stitched to Maria’s bag.
She stops and holds up the bag, “It’s the Mercury Sheriff’s Department’s patch! It has an atom bomb on it because we are so close to where they do all the testing.”
“Oh! I didn’t know that?”
There must be surprise in my voice because Maria giggles, “I’m a Deputy Sheriff!” The ocean of light comes back into her eyes, and her smile reaches from ear to ear.
“You are?”
She giggles again, “Surprised? Duly sworn in and all!”
“Really?”
She holds up two fingers in the air, “Freckled Girls Secret Society word, Miss!”
“Come on, Maria! You’re getting behind!” Roberta waves to her daugther to hurry up.
“What do you say if we run a little?” I blink at her.
Maria grabs my hand, and together we run up the path and reach the stairs that lead up to the restaurant’s back door.

John has a big smile when he sees us running towards them, then he shakes his head and whispers something to his wife.
We stop just in front of the group. I take a deep breath, “Ma, come out and see what the families caught.”
There’s no answer.
“Lady! Lady! Come out and look at the big Tuna I caught!”
We all look at Maria.
“We need you to prepare this big fish! Please!”
The door creaks when Ma opens it and peeks out.
“Lady, come on! I don’t know how to cut this fish?” Maria waves to Ma.
Ma opens the door and steps out. She grabs the stairs railing and leans forward, “My, that, that is a Yellowfin!”
Maria grabs my hand again.
Ma waggles down the stairs, cleans her hands on her apron, and takes a breath. She looks down on the Yellowfin, slides her hand over it, sniffs, and straightens up, “This fish was caught no more than two hours ago. Out where the brackish water is.”
“Brackish water? What’s that?” Matthew looks at his dad.
“That’s where the fresh water from the Bayou mixes with the sea's salt water,” Ma looks at him, and I notice that she now has her teacher's voice, just like when she teaches me about Louisiana cooking. “You see, this here Tuna shouldn’t be so close to the shore, so the ocean must have been pushing in a little more today. That was lucky for you and unlucky for him.”
Tom laughs, and the rest of the group joins him.
“Do you know how to cut up this fish?” John is about to take out his packet of cigarettes, but when he notices Roberta’s eyes, he pushes it back into his shirt's chest pocket.
“Of course I do! Betty Lee, I need that foldable table that’s in the shed, and then I need to go to my house and get my Tuna knife.”
When I hear her say that she needs to go to her house, my smile disappears.
“We’ll go with you!” John straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. “So then you can tell us about life in Louisiana.”
“And something about the swamp. I never saw a swamp before,” Tom has hung the camera’s sling around his neck and waits for Ma’s answer.
“Well, I never…” she glances at me, and I nod. “If you gentlemen will do me the favour.”

I watch them walk past the corner of the restaurant. John is making Ma questions about Louisiana cooking and how she could have known that the Yellowfin had been caught just two hours before. Tom looks like he’s uninterested and directs his camera at everything, but he never snaps any pictures. But then he stops and pulls out something from the big bag he has hanging over his left shoulder. He sweeps it around, and I can hear some ticking and then a loud beep. He puts it down on the ground and takes a picture of it.
I don’t know what to do. I want to follow them and see what they are up to, but the mothers and the kids are still here. It only takes a second before I figure it out, “Hey, the kids can change in the restrooms, and then I’ll put some deck chairs and some Cokes on the beach. What do you say about that?”
There’s a loud cheer from Henry and Matthew as they pick up their bags and rush up the stairs to the porch. Roberta and Andrea smile at me and follow them.
I look at Maria, “Don’t you want to go to the beach?”
“Oh yes, Miss, I really want to,” she hesitates, “but what are you going to do?”
“I’ll put some wet towels over your Tuna, that will keep it fresh and the flies away.”
“Can I stay with you? Maybe help you?”
My eyes move from one side to the other, and then I smile, “I suppose that you can, if your mother says you can, I mean.”
“I’ll ask her!” Maria takes off up the stairs with her small, white bag between her hands.

As soon as she is out of sight, I hurry around the corner and see how John gentlemanly follows Ma towards her house. Ma is waving her hands, so I know that she is talking about her favourite subject: Louisiana cooking and ingredients. Tom is following them with that strange thing in his hands. Sometimes, he stops, looks at it, and makes a note. When they reach Ma’s house, John waits outside, but he points to Tom to get closer to the swamp. Tom rushes towards the swamp. He comes back holding up his left thumb and the camera in the other.

“Miss, mum said I can stay with you!”
I look up at the porch. Maria has changed into a swimsuit and is jumping up and down. Then I quickly glance at Ma’s house, and the group is on their way back. I wave to Maria to follow me, “Come on, we need to get those wet towels and some ice!” Maria rushes down the back stairs from the porch and follows me around to the kitchen door.

Just as we finish putting the wet towels over the Tuna together with some ice, Andrea, Roberta, and the kids appear.
Andrea looks at Roberta, “I heard that in Japan they eat Tuna raw.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be much of cooking then.”
I smile when I hear Ma’s voice.
“I don’t think that Mrs. Ma’s Tuna knife would be legal in Nevada,” John says, showing all of his white teeth.
“Where’s that foldable table, Betty Lee?” Ma looks at me like I was a schoolgirl.
“We little freckled ladies aren’t capable of lifting that big fish, so that’s why we decided to wait for my big, strong dad!” Maria smiles at me and blinks.
John pats Tom on his shoulder, “Come on, and let's do some work here.

In the blink of an eye, the table is unfolded, the Yellowfin on it, and John and Tom with the looks of hungry wolves, imagining the huge tuna steaks that will be cut up.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Ma unwraps her knife. It looks like a gleaming sword. She glances at John, “I can assure you that this is legal in Louisiana.”
John’s hungry look turns into a big smile, “You know what, while you are cutting up that fish, the kids play on the beach, our wives enjoy the sun, Tom and I are going to go back with the Skipper, pay him, and bring our cars here.” He looks at the trawler, “Do we have anything left on the boat?”
“No, everything is inside the restaurant,” Roberta gives her husband an efficient smile.
“Best as always,” John starts walking towards the trawler, followed by Tom, but they are overtaken by Henry and Matthew, followed by their mothers.
Maria stays with me, reaches for my hand, and squeezes it, “Thank you.”
I pat her on her head.
“Betty Lee, go get me some trays, and I’ll cut up this fish right now.”
“Do you want us to help you?”
“You get those trays and go put some deck chairs on the beach for the ladies, you hear me?”

We both stop and look back at Ma, she is skilfully cutting up the Yellowfin, the trawler is disappearing out into the sea, there is some wild splashing in the water, all while Roberta and Andrea talk about something, maybe retirement in Florida.
“Wait here,” I go into the shed and take two deck chairs. Maria is waiting for me with the basket in her hands; there are five Cokes and a beer in it. Ma had told me to get one, for good work, she said.
I kick off my shoes, and we both walk barefoot down to the beach.
“How come you’re a Deputy Sheriff?”
Maria stops and looks up at me, “I saw someone get shot.” She swallows, takes a deep breath, and her hand trembles.
I drop the chairs on the ground and reach down and hug her, “Easy, easy now. I know how it is.”
Maria reaches up and hugs me. There’s a little tear in her eye. “Miss, you know how it is?”
“I’m Betty Lee, not Miss.”
“You know, I, I…” her voice dies out, but then she squeezes me. “Betty Lee, I’m very, very proud to be a…”
“A member of the Freckled Girls Secret Society?”
She nods a couple of times, and I wipe away the tear from under her eye.
Ma has noticed that something is happening and is about to shout something to us, but I quickly hold up my finger over my mouth, and then I point my thumb at the beach.
Ma nods and puts down the knife, covers up the tuna, and starts walking towards us. When she reaches us, she strokes Maria’s head a couple of times, reaches down and whispers to Maria, “You know that this skinny bag of bones called Betty Lee is the bravest girl I ever knew, and I know that you are also.”
Maria puts her hand over her mouth and giggles, “Skinny bag of bones.”
Roberta turns around and looks at us, “Everything alright?”
“Mum, I stepped on a stone!”
“Watch your steps and be careful!” When there’s a loud scream from the water, she turns around and lifts her finger, “Matthew! You play and behave like a decent son!”
“Will you tell Dad?” Matthew looks like he has been hit on the head with a mop.
“I’ll think about it.”
Matthew’s worries disappear when Henry pushes him back into the water. The water splashing war continues. Roberta and Andrea shake their heads.
Maria reaches up and hugs Ma.

“What do you do when you have, I, well, when you…”
“Have an attack, like I had a minute before, you mean?” Maria looks at me with her big eyes.
“Yes, like a minute before, I got, you know, what they give you and…”
“Betty Lee, I jump!”
“Jump?”
“Yes! It works!” She stops and thinks for a moment, “You want us to jump now?”
“Now?”
“Come on! Let’s jump!” She puts down the basket and grabs my hand, “Jump! Jump!”
The deck chairs fall on the sand again, and I start to jump.
Roberta turns around and whispers something to Andrea. The big water splashing war stops, and Ma turns around on her way back to the tuna and giggles.
They are all looking at two girls from the Freckled Girls Secret Society jumping up and down, barefoot, while an old pelican called Lord Nelson waves his wings and quacks.

5:26 PM, Road to Point Beignet.

The green metallic 1965 Buick Sport Wagon stops in the middle of the road. John looks in the rear mirror. The other, the same car type, stops behind him. When the dust cloud settles down, John reaches for his packet of cigarettes, knocks one out, and pushes the car’s cigarette lighter in. After a second, there’s a click, and he pulls out the lighter, lights his cigarette, and puts the lighter back in. John waits, smokes, and then he pulls on the door lock and steps out with the cigarette in his right hand.
There’s a click from the car behind him, Tom steps out and quietly shuts the door. Then he walks up to John.
“What do you think, Major?” John knocks off some ash from his cigarette.
“Maybe you are right. There might be some activity in the swamp. The reading on the Geiger meter on the turn back at the restaurant was positive. Something radioactive was there, Colonel.”
“So?” John draws in some smoke and blows it out through his nose drills.
“Who is the source?”
“An American Airlines pilot, flying from Miami to Dallas.”
“Do you trust him?”
“He was a fighter pilot in Korea, so he knows what he’s talking about.” Some more ash falls to the ground. "He described it as a huge metal disc, larger than the airplane, that gave off a greenish light that made it difficult to distinguish from the dark sea.” John releases a big puff of smoke, thinks, knocks off some more ash, and clears his throat, “The co-pilot tracked it, the object, that is, on the radar, and it just disappeared here.”
“Colonel, are you sure?”
“The only place that fits the description is this, well, beignet-shaped peninsula. That’s the coordinates he gave us.”
“And this is where that strange radio signal came from?” Tom waves off a fly that is getting close to his nose, and then he sweeps his hand over his forehead to get rid of some sweat drops.
John inhales some more smoke, breaths out, and looks down at a small stone that is just in front of his right shoe. He waits a second, another second, and then he kicks it.
The stone splashes into the dark, duckweed-covered water. All the sounds stop immediately.
Both of them wait. Tom looks at his wrist watch. After a minute, the normal symphony of sounds from the swamp starts again.
John scratches his neck and smokes, “You know, Major, that’s the crazy thing. They picked it up at Fort Polk, and as usual, it was recorded. They thought it might have been something that came out of Communist Cuba, but…”
“But?”
“It was an old German code from World War 2.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” John smokes again, thinks, and then he shakes his head, “It doesn’t make any sense. Someone transmits an old German code, and then a week later, this, what the pilot said was a huge disc, turns up here, why? Why here? There’s nothing here.”
Tom follows the fly with his eyes to make sure it doesn’t get too close again, takes a deep breath, waits, and then releases the air, “Could it, this might sound crazy, have been, well, some call signal. I mean, to attract this disc here, what do you think?”
“I’m not sure, but an itch in my back tells me that the two events must be related to each other in some, how would I say, mysterious way.” John puffs out some smoke and looks at his half-finished Camel, “With all this Communist infiltration going on, we have to be very careful.”
“A trick to fool us?”
“Maybe.”
“Could the disc, by any chance, be from Soviet Russia?”
“All our intelligence says that they still don’t have that capacity.”
“Captured German scientists, as we use, is that a possibility?”
“It might be, but I don’t know…” John smokes, and then he points at the swamp, “But what I know is that this place would be perfect to hide something big. Look at it, Most people would be scared to enter into it, bugs, mosquitoes, poisonous snakes, alligators, dark waters…”
“Just perfect to hide something big, right?”
“What do you think about the woman at the restaurant?”
Tom looks away and then back at John, “I’d say she knows something.”
“You’re sure, Major?”
Tom nods, “I am.”
John shakes his head a couple of times, “I think you’re right, that Geiger reading was positive, something radioactive was there and…”
“Her cook, the old, black woman, was glancing all the time at the swamp when we followed her to her house.”
“She’s her friend. Betty Lee’s friend, I mean.”
“Are you sure, Colonel?”
“Maria said something about it.”
“Do you think she knows something?”
“More than she will tell us,” John kicks up some sand.
“How come?”
“We’re whites. She doesn’t have any reason to trust us.”
“But she trusts Betty Lee?”
“Major, that’s obvious. She has a lot of confidence in Betty Lee.”
Tom waves away the big, annoying fly again, “Why? What do you think happened?”
“Violence.”
“Violence, yes, Roberta told me that Maria had told Betty Lee what happened to her and, well, that Betty Lee wants to write my daughter, like some kind of support because she, hum, well, said that she knows how it is when she gets the attacks,” John throws the cigarette on the sand and steps on it.
“So something happened?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“But she won’t tell us?”
“Right.”
“And?”
“Major, let’s get back to the restaurant, enjoy those big tuna steaks, and we will only identify ourselves if we have a positive, confirmed contact.” John picks up what’s left of the Camel and puts it in his pocket.
Tom nods and starts walking back to his station wagon.
John gets into his car, closes the door, puts the cigarette butt in the ashtray, starts the engine, and puts in first gear.
Slowly, both cars drive down the narrow road towards Betty Lee’s restaurant.
None of them notices the small, white, glowing orb that is following them.

7:41, Point Beignet Seafood Restaurant.

“That was absolutely the best tuna steaks I ever had. Big, juicy, wonderful sauce, the Louisiana rice, the…” John puts both his hands on his stomach, and a happy wolf smile appears on his face. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“You’re happy, honey?” Roberta pats him on his shoulder.
He doesn’t have to answer because the light in his eyes and the big smile tell Roberta that her husband, her wonderful man, is happier than most people at the moment.
Tom leans over and gives his Andrea a little kiss on her cheek, “Happy?”
Andrea doesn’t answer either; she just blinks. Henry looks a little embarrassed because he looks away.

I step out on the porch and look at their happy faces. “How about some ice cream for dessert and some coffee?”
Matthew slaps Henry on his shoulder, “Ice cream!” Now it’s their turn to have the hungry wolf smile painted on their faces.
Maria jumps out of her chair, “I’ll help you!”

Fifteen minutes later, there is no ice cream left on the kids' plates. Andrea is talking to Roberta about retirement in Florida, Maria is following me around, into the kitchen, back out onto the porch, with her shining eyes, now and then I blink at her, and she blinks back.
John and Tom have gone to one side of the porch. John said that he wanted to have a smoke. Now he’s holding his coffee cup in his left hand and his cigarette in his right, looking at the swamp.
Tom is next to him with his cup in both hands, leaning against the railing, “Do you think it crashed?”
John glances at him, “Definitely not.” He turns towards the two-cent, aluminium ashtray, the one that Louisiana Companies gave me for attending a speech about women’s role in the future, and that is now on the porch railing, blows out some smoke, and knocks off some ash.
“How about some more coffee?”
They both swing around and stare at me. None of them had noticed that I was just behind them and that I had heard their conversation.
“Coffee?” I give them my toothpaste publicity smile.
John gulps down what’s left in his cup and holds it out, “Yes! I, hum, Tom, more coffee?”
Tom holds out his cup, too.
I try not to laugh because both of them have the expression that two teenage boys would have when they have been caught reading Playboy Magazine.
The coffee fills up John’s cup, and he is quick to throw in some sugar. Then he coughs a couple of times, “Thank you!”
“How about if I show you the swamp?” For a second, a thought crosses my mind that I might be doing the wrong thing. “Can’t leave Louisiana without seeing a swamp, can you?”
“You’re right on that one,” John is back to being his self-confident, always smiling man. “Tom, why don’t you get your camera bag and let’s see if you can find something interesting to photograph?”
Tom puts down his cup on the table where the sugar bowl is and picks up his large, black camera bag.
“I’ll just put the coffee pot next to your families, if they want to have some more coffee, I mean,” I point at the table where Roberta and Andrea are still discussing if Florida is better than California, Matthew and Henry are discussing if there could be any sea monsters out in the Gulf of Mexico, and Maria is looking at me.
When I put the coffee pot on the table, Maria is quick to grab my hand and squeeze it.
“You must let go of me, I promised to show your dad the swamp.”
Maria looks up on me and shakes her head.
“Maria, let go of Miss Betty Lee.” The slight authoritarian tone in John’s voice makes Roberta forget about the Santa Barbara coastline. John holds up his right finger, “Maria.”
Maria shakes her head again, looks down, looks up, and squeezes my hand.
“Do you want to come with us?” I blink and smile at her.
“Yes, Miss!” The ocean of light is back in her eyes.
I quickly glance at John, who bites his lips, and a second later, he nods, “It’s okay, she can come with us.”
Matthew and Henry look at us, and I can tell that they want to come with us too.
“You young gentlemen look like you have room for some more ice cream, am I right?”
We all look at Ma, who has silently stepped out onto the porch. Matthew and Henry both look at each other and forget about that dark, mosquito-infested place called a Louisiana swamp.
“You just come with me to the kitchen, and I’ll put some strawberry pie on the plates too,” Ma waves to them to follow her.

When the four of us walk down the stairs and onto the turnaround, Matthew and Henry have disappeared into the restaurant, Roberta and Andrea continue to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of living in Miami versus San Diego, and Maria is clinging to my left hand.
“I’ll get ahead and see if I can get some pictures of those rare birds that are supposed to live here,” Tom puts his hand into the camera bag that is hanging over his left shoulder, speeding up his steps, and is soon far ahead of us.
I know that he must be carrying something more in his camera bag than just the camera and Geiger meter; he probably has a gun there, or maybe two, one for him and the other for John.
“Did you know that the Acadians were expelled from Canada by the British? That’s why they came here. To find a new home.”
John glances at me, “I didn’t know that. You have a lot of different cultures here in Louisiana.”
“Miss, do you speak French?” Maria looks up at me with her shiny eyes.
“Well, I know some French, I’m not fluent, but I understand it pretty well.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Ma speaks fluent French, I can tell.”
I stop and look down at her freckly, smiling face, “You know, I never asked her, but I think that you could be right.”
“This place would be perfect for shooting a Hollywood monster movie,” John points at the dark swamp. “Or maybe even a, what do they call those movies where people come from, well, somewhere beyond our planet, do you know, Maria?”
“Alien invaders!” Maria leans forward and looks at her father, “They come in UFOs, space ships.”
“What happened, Miss?” John has noticed that my smile is gone. “Anything wrong?”
“Oh, no! It’s just, hum, I don’t like monster movies.” I try to smile, but I can’t.
“I already told Betty Lee that I saw a UFO last December. Do you remember Dad?” Maria has a happy smile on her face.
John looks away, reaches for his cigarettes, forgets about them, shakes his head, and looks at his daughter, “Honey, you couldn’t be completely sure about that. It could have been something else, don’t you think?”
“Dad, you’re an Air Force Colonel, investigating these things, you know, I saw one.”
John is quick to pull out his Camels and light one. After blowing out some smoke, he looks at Maria and blinks, “You shouldn’t be talking about that publicly.”
“Betty Lee is a member of the Freckled Girls Secret Society. She would never tell anyone, would you, Betty Lee?”
I’m quick to hold up two fingers, smile at Maria, and then I pat her on her head, “I promise to never reveal any secrets shared by another Freckled Girl.”
John doesn’t seem to be convinced. He blows out a large cloud of smoke and glances at Tom, who has reached Ma’s house and is looking around. John looks at the Camel, bites his lips, looks away, and then he looks at little Maria and me, “Well, now you know why we’re here. I would never have told you anything, but Maria did and…” He smokes and looks down on his daughter, who smiles at him with her broken tooth, then he reaches forward and gives her a kiss on her forehead, “You know, I can never be angry with you, I should, but I can’t, I just can’t.”
“Because I caught that big fish!” Maria’s eyes have that special magic in them again.
“Because you caught that big fish and…” John looks at his Camel, throws it on the ground, and steps on it. Then he reaches down, picks up the cigarette butt, and puts it in his side pocket. “Maria, do you promise me to never again tell anyone what I really work with?”
Maria holds up two fingers, smiles at me, and looks at her father, “I do!”
“Come on, let’s go and see what’s in that swamp.” John turns to his right, waves to Tom, and starts walking towards him.
Maria squeezes my hand, looks up, and smiles at me, “You see! I couldn’t tell you before because, I, I…”
“You’re not allowed to talk about your dad’s job, right?”
“Right! But, well, sometimes I play…”
“Stupid?”
Maria nods.
“I do that too.”
Maria leans against me, “You know what, Betty Lee?”
“What?”
“Someday, we, we…”
I pat her on her head, “What?”
“We won’t have to play stupid!” Maria looks up at me with the ocean of light in her eyes. “We won’t have to be less than nobody!”

“Hey! What’s holding you up?” John waves at us. Then he leans over and whispers something to Tom.
I know that he is telling him that Maria has given away the real reason that they have come here.
Maria blinks at me, “Just a minute, Dad!”
John shakes his head and says something to Tom.

“Dad! Do you think that there are alligators in the swamp?” Maria has a happy look on her face.
John turns to me, “Nothing dangerous around here, am I right?”
“You have to be careful with the alligators. I don’t think the wild boars would come here, they live farther away, closer to land, that is.” I point in the direction of the swamp.
“Is it very deep here?” John takes a couple of steps forward and stops just short of the water.
I glance at my wristwatch; it is almost 8 PM, and the sun will set soon.
“Let’s see how deep it is,” John picks up a stone and stretches his arm backwards.
“Stop!” I quickly put my hand over my mouth after shouting at him.
“Nothing wrong with throwing a stone into the water?” John smiles at me.
“Don’t throw things into the swamp,” I shake my head a couple of times.
“Could you wake up something, something scary?” Maria has grabbed my left hand with both of hers.
“Monster of the black lagoon?” Tom appears from behind a tree and makes his way towards us through the brush. He has just put something back into his big camera bag. It has to be the Geiger meter because he holds up his right thumb. John nods to him. “That film scared me a lot. I was just a kid when I saw it the first time.”
“I never saw it.” The toothpaste smile doesn’t stay on my lips this time.
“There is something scary here, Betty Lee, isn’t it?” Maria holds up two fingers.
For a second, I think about lying, but I know that that would break Maria’s heart, that the person she has started to trust lies to her, so I blink, hold up two fingers, and reach down, “There is, well, Ma and I, we saw something and…”
“That’s why the elderly lady doesn’t live at home,” Tom points at Ma’s house.
“How do you know?” I fix my eyes on him.
“Dust on the table!” Tom smiles at me. “Your restaurant is one of the cleanest I've ever seen. She would never let her own house be dirty.”
“I can’t let you write my daughter if I can’t trust you,” John pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
“You want to write me?” Maria pulls on my left hand.
“Yes, if I can,” The smile is back on my face. “Girls talk, you know?” I blink at her.
“Dad?” Maria blinks at me.
“Just one question, did you actually see something here, something strange, I mean?” John blows out some smoke.
“She was sitting on the beach one night and saw a big, metal disc that appeared out over the sea and passed over her restaurant. Just what I saw in Nevada, last December, Dad.”
We all stare at Maria.
“She told me so when we were in the kitchen together with Mrs. Ma.”
“I’ll be dammed!” Tom pulls out the camera and snaps a picture of me.
“Is that right?” John knocks off some ash and scratches his neck.
I nod, look down at Maria, and hold up two fingers again, “It’s true.”
“Freckled Girls Secret Society!” The ocean appears in Maria’s eyes again.
A quick glance at my wristwatch, and then my eyes wander from left to right and back again. The sun has started to set. I bite my lips.
John notices how I constantly look at my watch and at the swamp. He has a look at his own, and then he looks at me, “Do you think it’s time to leave this place?”
I bite my lips and nod.
“Come on and let’s go see the sunset on that wonderful beach!” Tom has completely changed. “This has been one of the best days in my life. We caught that big Yellowfin, the kids played on the beach, and that, well, those tuna steaks, that Louisiana potato salad, that, that, I don’t know…”
“Ma’s Special Ruby Red Louisiana Hot Sauce!” Maria couldn’t care less about her broken tooth.
“The Special Sauce! Yes! That was just that extra thing that,” Tom seems to search for the word again.
“It made the fish taste perfect!” Maria stresses the words.
“Maria, would you like to run together with me to the restaurant? Maybe I’ll let you win?”
“I’ll win, I caught that big tuna, didn’t I?”
Tom hands the camera bag to John, “Come on, I’ll win!”
They both set off for the restaurant. Tom tries to look tired and lags behind Maria.
“You wouldn’t let Maria come here alone, would you?” John steps on the cigarette, picks it up, and puts it in his pocket.
I shake my head a couple of times, “No, I wouldn’t.”
“Let’s see the sunset on the beach, and then we will have to be off.”
Maria runs as fast as she can and wins. She turns around and waves to me. I wave back to her.
“You have a good influence on her, you can write her, I’ll give you the address.” John waves to his daughter, too.

“Wow! That must have been the reddest, brightest sunset I ever saw!” Tom puts his hand on Andrea’s shoulder, who is sitting comfortably in a deck chair. Next to her, Roberta sits in the other deck chair, John has a sip of beer, the boys talk about baseball, Ma has some iced tea, and Maria holds my left hand.
John looks at his wristwatch, “Past eigth, we should be driving back to Houma.” He puts the empty bottle on the foldable table, which we brought down here to put the bottles on. “Tom, could you see to it that everyone and everything is in the cars in about, well, ten minutes?”
Tom nods, “Sure.”
Maria squeezes my hand and whispers, “I don’t want to leave, I, I, feel great here.”
I lean over to my left side and whisper to her, “You must go with your parents. I’ll write you, your dad told me I can.”
“I knew it!” She lowers her voice and hands me a paper napkin.
I look at it and read it out, with a low voice, “Maria Marcus, United States Postal Service, Mercury, NV 89023.”
“I asked Ma for a pen, just in case Dad would have said that you couldn’t write me.” The ocean of light fills up her eyes again.
“Do you want mine?”
Maria sticks her hand into the dress pocket, smiles, pulls out a receipt, looks at it, and turns it around. “Betty Lee Thibodaux, Point Beignet Sea Food Restaurant, Alligator 70344 LA,” she whispers.
I look at the beautiful, almost ornamental handwriting, “Did you write that?”
Maria shakes her head and smiles at me, “No, Ma did. Isn’t it beautiful? I never saw such handwriting before.”
“Me neither,” I quickly glance at Ma, who’s finishing her glass of tea with lots of crushed ice in it and a thin slice of lemon. This woman never stops surprising me.
Roberta rises up from her chair and claps her hands, “Come on, everyone must get their things!” Then she turns off the small transistor, and the sound of The Animals' “House of the Rising Sun” dies away. “Well, that was more of the House of the Setting Sun.”
The whole group laughs, Ma smiles, and I carefully put Maria’s note in my waitress's wallet. Then I realise that Maria has seen the Combat Magnum. My eyes move from left to right. It seems that nobody else has seen it. I quickly put my right index finger over my mouth. Maria holds up two fingers in the air and smiles.

We all walk towards the restaurant. Ma told me that we should leave everything on the table and take care of it tomorrow. Nobody would steal empty bottles anyway.
Ma takes the path that leads to the kitchen back door, and the rest of us walk up the stairs to the porch. I glance at Ma’s house and then at the swamp.
John immediately notices what I’m doing, “Let’s all get inside.”
When I step into the restaurant, I turn on the switch, and the bright flood lights that Theodore installed light up the front porch and the kitchen back door.
Tom nods a couple of times, and John smiles, “That’s a very wise thing to do, being here alone.”
Matthew and Henry both have their bags, Tom has his bag, the camera bag, and John’s bag. Roberta and Andrea have theirs; the only one who hasn’t picked up her bag is Maria. The white bag with the atomic patch is still next to the sofas.
“Come on, Maria, it’s time to go. We must get back to the hotel,” Roberta puts some authority into her voice.
Maria rushes forward and hugs me, “Can I come back here?”
I hug her too, and then I glance at Roberta. Roberta nods, looks at her husband, and silently says, “Yes, she can.” John knows it’s better not to answer.
“Yes, you can,” I say, and I squeeze her and run my hand through her hair.
“Tom, get the cars ready. I’ll pay Miss Betty Lee.”
“We can’t leave without thanking, hum, Mrs. Ma!” Matthew looks around.
“He’s right!” Henry has completely forgotten that Matthew kicked a lot of sand in his face earlier today.
“Hey! Mrs. Ma, come out!” Matthew shouts at the full capacity of his lungs.
The kitchen door flings open. “Betty Lee! I told you to stop that, Mrs. Ma! I’m only called Ma around here!” The towel falls from her hands when she stops and stares at us with wide-open eyes.
We are all as surprised as she is. She takes a step back and is ready to retreat into the kitchen again.
Henry jumps forward, “We just want to thank you for all the wonderful food we had, the, what should I say, the…”
“The wild day at the beach!” Matthew fills in the words.
“And turning my daughter into the hero of the day by catching that enormous Yellowfin. That…” John doesn’t know how to continue.
So Roberta steps forward and offers Ma her hand, “My husband, who is always hungry, would like to say that something like that, those were the best tuna steaks he ever had. And he has had a lot of good food at home.”
John pats himself on his stomach, “I can testify to that.”
I blink at Ma. She hesitates for a second, but then she stretches out her hand and shakes Roberta’s, “Thank you, I, I really mean it, when people appreciate my, my, humble cooking.”
“Humble isn’t the word,” Andrea steps forward and shakes Ma’s hand. “I’ve been a restaurant manager, and your cooking is anything but humble.”
Ma straightens up and smiles, “Well, thank you! I knew that you had been doing some serious cooking too, by the way you looked at everything.”
“And your secret sauce! You know we actually bought two boxes of it when we went back with the boat, sorry, the trawler, to get the cars,” Tom stretches his hand to Ma and shakes hers.
Ma doesn’t know what to say. She quickly wipes away a little tear from her left eye.
Maria let go of me, takes two steps forward, and looks up at Ma, “Can I give you a hug?”

The group waves to Ma when all of them walk out the front door.
Ma waves back, and with a big smile, she passes me, “I’ll leave you with the gentleman, Betty Lee.”
I nod and smile back at her.
John has pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. “So how much do we owe you?”
I get in behind the bar and take out some paper, the receipt book, a pen, and a pencil, “Let’s see, you had...”
“Fifty dollars, is that satisfactory?”
“Fifty dollars? I, well, I…” I haven’t had time to finish the sentence before John put another ten dollars on the counter. I look at the money and then at him, “I think that that, just might be too much, for what you have received here today, I mean.”
John takes a deep breath and then relaxes, “Miss, please take the money. You have been very kind to us. The kids had a great time at the beach, and the food was some of the best I ever had.” His eyes move to the clock on the wall, then to the kitchen door and back to me, “It’s for the information too.”
“That I saw something in the sky? You call that information?”
“Miss, I’m not at liberty, well, heck, Maria already told you what we’re doing.” He takes a deep breath and looks at his shirt's chest pocket. I nod, and he pulls out his packet of Camels and lights one. He slowly blows out the smoke, looks at the cigarette and then back at me, “I’m not at liberty to tell what we, Tom and I, are working on, but it’s something, well, very important.”
“Just tell me that you uphold the Constitution, will you?”
“We uphold the Constitution, Miss. Why do you ask?”
I take a deep breath and push the paper and the pen towards him, “I was sitting outside at night. It was 3 April, just before midnight, I had a beer, and then, then, Lord Nelson started to quack…”
John grabs the paper and pen, bites the Camel, blows out some smoke, and starts writing down everything I tell him. His eyes are getting bigger and bigger as I continue to tell him everything that happened.
“And then I rushed out on the porch and fired at the, whatever it was, but I promise you that it was taller than Ma’s front door.”
John lights another cigarette on the old one. He stares at me and holds up the pen, “Miss, just one question.” I nod at him. “Were you, no offense, but were you under the influence of some drug?”
I bite my lips, “I had some beers.”
He points at my waitress's wallet, “I’m sure you have some kind of gun there, am I right?”
I cross my arms and look at him.
“And are you sure about the size of that flying object, I mean, could you swear by this? If this were a formal hearing, you would be under oath. Do you understand what I mean?”
I unsnap my waitress's wallet, take out the revolver, and empty the bullets on the counter.
“Jeez, that’s a Combat Magnum!” He picks up the revolver and spins the empty drum, “One hell of a revolver for a woman!”
“I drive a lot, so I know how much two hundred feet is. That thing was something smaller, but not much.”
And the size of that, what you called an unidentifiable shadow next to, to…”
“Ma’s house? Eight feet!”
There’s a clonk when the Combat Magnum hits the counter, “Eight feet?” The half-smoked Camel ends up in the ashtray, John fumbles and manages to get out another cigarette from his packet and light it. He looks up at the ceiling.
I pick up the revolver, load it, and put it back into the waitress's wallet.
He points at me with the cigarette, “That’s why you carry that and, well, you have those flood lights outside.”
I nod, pick up his half-smoked cigarette from the ashtray, and put it out.
John looks at the half-smoked lying in the ashtray and then at the one he is holding in his hand, “Uh, I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
“Ma saw them too.”
John makes a quick note and looks up, “You, would you, if there was an official inquiry, by any chance, testify?”
“I would.”
He looks around, down at the paper that is full of notes on both sides, the ashtray, and then back at me, “Do you have some more paper?”
I turn around and push the kitchen swing doors open. It almost hits Ma in her nose. I smile at her, pass by her, open the desk’s top drawer, and look at the two notebooks. The one on top is where I have Blondy’s written confession, and the other one is the one with the Atomic Commissions emblem on it. I pull out the second, pass by Ma, give her a little kiss on her forehead, and push the doors open.

John stares at the notebook, “Atomic Commission?”
“I found it here when I opened the restaurant. Someone must have forgotten it here. Before 1960.”
John flips through the pages, stops at the page where there is a big, red L within a red square, looks at it, and finally finds an empty page at the back of the notebook. “Okay, I’ll give you a number,” he jots down a number starting with 775. “Do you know this prefix?”
“Nevada. Isn’t it where you live?”
“Right! If you have any additional information, just call me. You won’t be charged, it’s a toll-free number.” He scratches his nose, finishes his cigaret, puts it out in the two cent Louisiana Companies ashtray and takes a breath, “I’ll, if you want to, I would be pleased if you did, write to my Maria...”
I take out the paper Maria gave me from the waitress's wallet and show it to him.
John laughs, “That’s my little girl! She’s always ahead of me, just as when she lied about that she had mistakenly told you that I was investigating, well, strange things.”
“So you knew?”
“I wouldn’t be a good father if I didn’t.” Johan pulls out his wallet again and counts up five twenty-dollar bills and puts them next to the Atomic Commissions notebook. He smiles, turns around, and sprints towards the entrance. “Tom! Get those cars going!”
“This money?” I hold up the hundred dollars.
He stops at the entrance, turns around, and smiles at me, “You gave me the best information ever!”
“Don’t you want a receipt?”
“Black money!”
I rush towards the entrance and out on the porch. When I grab the railing, I see how he gets into the driver’s seat.
Maria stands at the half-open passenger door behind him and waves at me, “Write me!”
“I promise!”
Roberta turns around from inside the station wagon and says something to her daughter. Maria gets in, closes the door, and leans out through the window, “Freckled Girls Secret Society!”
“Freckled Girls Secret Society!” I grab the railing when the cars disappear down the narrow road. Then I feel Ma’s warm hand on my shoulder.
“She’ll be back, one day, when you least suspect it.”