Chapter 4-Leaving the Bayou

It had been almost a year since the sheriff had discovered the horrible Terrebonne family secrets. Small towns have a way of keeping gossip alive, but talk did eventually die down after a few months. Claude Terrebonne's' funeral was paid for by the parish and he was laid in a pauper's grave in the Old Bayou Road Cemetery. St. Francis de Soles Catholic church wouldn't permit his burial on their consecrated ground. He had never been baptized and for all purposes was not a Catholic in anything but word. A few of the local fishermen and shrimpers, drunken cronies from the bar in town, townspeople, and one especially curious stranger showed up for the bleak affair. The stranger was very tall and handsome with dark hair and green/yellow eyes. Sarah wondered who he might be. He spoke to no one and left as soon as the service was over.

Mr. Terrebonne's sister, LouElla, read about his death in the New Orleans paper and appeared from nowhere the day of the funeral. She provided a large floral arrangement of dark almost black roses to blanket the wooden coffin. She asked a lot of questions from Sara but didn't get a lot of answers. It was the first time Sarah Terrebonne had met her sister-in-law and as far as she was concerned she "didn't care if she ever saw her again." The children had been terrified of her. Sally even asked ,"is she a witch?" Sarah couldn't blame the little ones from being frightened of their long lost aunt. She was tall and rail thin with long fingers and nails painted bright red. Her long beaked nose and black hair and eyes gave her a sinister appearance. Her funeral attire of total black with a large brimmed black veiled hat completed her scary look.

Mr. Terrebonne had been the 'black sheep' of his family. Sarah had heard Mr. Terrebonne complain many times of "how much money his family had but wouldn't lend a hand to help him." They owned most of the land in Terrebonne Parish and were extremely wealthy. Sarah didn't expect any help from them now and LouElla Jeansonne never offered any.
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Sheriff Renee had sent his deputy to check on the Terrebonne family three times in the past year to, "see if they needed anything?"
Of course, Sara Terrebonne told him each time, "They were fine." Bayou people sometimes were too independent and proud for their own good, Marie thought. Things were getting desperate. They had been surviving off the fish, shrimp, small 'gators and other small game that Marie could catch or shoot. She had reasoned if she could hunt the big 'gator's, she would be able to bring in enough money to buy the ration cards for sugar, coffee, and the other things they needed. Most everything now was rationed since the war had begun.

Armon, her eleven-year-old brother, tried to help her the one time they went out looking for the big gators, but he was not strong enough. They were gone an entire day baiting hooks with spoiled chicken. They caught a few alligators that were small enough for the both of them to pull into the pirogue. Her hands were blistered and bleeding from tugging on the lines. Then Armon almost got pulled into the water with the last catch of the day. It was an old 'gator at least ten feet long and weighing probably five hundred pounds. Marie had to cut the line to save her brother's life. After this event, she realized catching and selling 'gators for their hides and meat was not going to be the solution.

Even with all these worries Marie was the happiest she could remember since Mr. Terrebonne wasn't around to torture them anymore. In fact, she had seen with her own eyes the younger children becoming more playful. They weren't so afraid anymore. Even her mama walked a little less stooped. The monster that was Mr. Terrebonne had kept them captive to fear too long. Now the monster was gone, and it was up to her to see that her mama didn't have to sell her soul to another one to keep them all alive.

She had turned seventeen in October. It was time for her to strike out on her own. There wasn't any money to be made here in Houma for a girl like herself with no job skills. With the war still going on and all the men folk off fighting she knew she could probably find work in New Orleans. She would get a job and send money back to mama. How was she going to get to New Orleans? She had never been out of her parish. She didn't have all the details worked out, but she knew she could do it. She had to.

*****
Marie had been up since before daylight with Armon out on the bayou trying to catch their supper. She had plenty of time to think while the hot June sun beamed down on their bare heads. Marie loved everything about the bayou. The way the moss hung from the old cypress trees, the wild great blue iris, the yellow trumpet Jessamine's which the old people still used to treat measles, tonsillitis, and headaches. Only the old wise ones still made their potions from the Jessamine's since it had a toxic alkaloid that if used wrong could cause skin irritation or even death. Marie's world was filled with the colors and textures of the swamp, the sounds of the bull- frogs at night; even the mosquitoes. It was her home. Well, maybe not the mosquitoes, she smiled as she swatted the vile creature that had just landed on her arm.

"Armon, see dare a big one, catch him!" Marie yelled to her brother as a huge green frog jumped from the marsh grass to shore. She paddled her pirogue to the bank expertly and Armon jumped ashore.

"Caught dat booger!" Armon exclaimed with glee. "Coooh luk at da size o dat frog."

"Good, dat makes us three frogs, two Redfish, a trap full of crawfish and one old sorry snake. We will eat good tonight," Marie smiled at her brother. "You did good my little brother."

"Hoo you callin' little. I'm as big as you is,"Armon replied in his Cajun English.

"You as tall...but you not as wise yet," Marie laughed. "I give you a little more time."

The sun was setting and dark shadows forming in the cypress groves when Marie headed home from the bayou. She could see her mama had lit the coal oil lamp for them.

"Come see." Marie yelled as she and Armon pulled the pirogue to the muddy bank.

Sally and her old yellow dog, Yeller, scrambled out from under the porch. Claude, the eight- year-old, was nowhere in sight. He was most likely still in the swamp play fighting or some other boyish pastime. Sally was covered from head to toe with dust and dirt from the porch.

"What da you have in da bucket, Marie?" Sally squealed with delight reaching to see what had been caught.

"Somthin good to eat...you dobber peu de salete ,little dirt dobber." Marie picked her up around the waist and twirled her around.

Sally squealed even louder with delight and squirmed loose from Marie's grasp. "Yeller, come see," Sally called. The old dog slowly crept up to the crawfish bucket and peered inside; scratched himself and strolled back to the porch.

Mrs. Terrebonne sat on the front porch in an old rocker cutting okra that she had picked that morning from her garden. Two-year-old baby Ramon sat playing by her side with an old syrup bucket and a spoon. She would put the okra and some tomatoes into a gumbo with whatever the children had caught or trapped today. "Marie and Armon, you did good."

After supper when the children were all in bed, Marie decided it was time to speak with her mama about leaving. "Mama, I need to talk with you."

Nodding, Mrs. Terrebonne strolled out onto the porch, sat down in her rocker and retrieved an old pipe from her tattered apron pocket. Marie recognized it as her papa's. Marie followed her and sat down on the step. She watched her mama taking small drags from the pipe as the smoke twirled up toward the sky. The smell brought back memories of her papa sitting on the porch on summer's nights smoking his pipe and holding her in his lap. She missed everything about him. She had been so young when he died but she could still remember his strong arms, his laughter, and his love for her.

The wind off the bayou brought other familiar smells and sounds that only the swamp could create. She didn't know how she could stand to leave this place. The night was cooler and felt so good after the hot day.

"Mama, I need to talk with you about leaving," Marie began.

Mrs. Terrebonne kept smoking and staring out into the blackness of the bayou. Then she stopped and put her pipe down. "When ya goin' and where?"

"I thought I'd go to New Orleans and git a job and send home som money to help you and the kids out."

Sarah took another puff of her pipe, "You ain't got no money to go nowhare."

Marie looked her mother directly in her eyes "I'll be okay; I know how to take care of myself."

"You ain't nuthin' but a little girl...dat's a big world out dere. How I'm gonna know you okay? You know I can't read very good."

"I know, mama, you always read in French to us from your Bible. I'll write to you in French...you'll see...I'll be okay."

"I guess if's I can't change yor mind I'll give you my blessing." Mrs. Terrebonne got up from her rocker and headed into the cabin. Shortly she returned with a Prince Albert tin and handed it to Marie. "Dis is da weddin' band dat yor papa gave me on da day we got married. You take it and sell it. It won't brang much money but it wills help."

"Oh mama, I love you so much." Marie got up from the steps and hugged her mama. "I'll take papa's ring, but I'll never be able to let my heart sell it." Marie took the gold band out of the tin and placed it on her right ring finger. "I'll leave in da mornin'."
*****
Morning came with cloudy skies and the look of rain. Marie had not slept much. She was excited about leaving and scared. She had packed her meager belongings into a burlap feed sack the night before and hoped to get off before all the children woke up. She didn't think she could face saying goodbye. Of course, her mama had already gotten up and made coffee and biscuits.

"You need to eat, Marie...I hav you somethin' to eat fer later, " Mrs. Terrebonne said.

"Thanks mama." Marie peeked into the small flour sack and saw that her mother had lovingly wrapped Boudin Rouge and corn pone in scraps of cloth for her trip.

"I see you wearin' the dress I made fer you last summer. It's real pretty. De little blue cornflowers brang out the blue in your eyes. You gonna need som shoes to wear with dat dress."

Mrs. Terrebonne walked into her bedroom and reached under the bed and grabbed a worn pair of heavy men's brogans.

"Mama, I can't take Mr. Terrebonne's boots." Marie was a little-taken aback.

"Dat's okay, he don' need dem anymore," Mrs. Terrebonne said in a matter-of-fact way. "You got to hav shoes when you git to New Orleans. I don' want no peoples tinking you just poor swamp trash."

"Okay, I'll take dem." Marie tied the laces in a knot and slung them over her shoulder with the burlap bag. "I got to go...I love you mama...I will send you som money soon." Marie hugged her mama and headed down to her pirogue.

"It look lik rain..." Mrs. Terrebonne took her pipe out of her pocket and headed back inside the cabin wiping a tear with one gnarled tobacco-stained finger.