Luc cast Sylvie a hopeless look. The silent message inferred there was no interrupting Tante Lulu once she got started.
“And, Lordy, my behind is so numb from sittin’ so long in that closet that I can’t hardly feel it at all. Why…” Her words trailed off as she seemed to recall her manners in the presence of a stranger. She addressed Sylvie. “Hello.”
Her eyes darted between Sylvie and Luc; then she smiled… a ludicrous expression with the lower half of her face reddened by the duct tape. She made a quick sign of the cross, then inquired, “Could this be the one, Luc? Finally?”
“No!” he said. “Definitely not.”
“The one what?” Sylvie asked.
“Don’t ask,” Luc advised.
“The one and only.” Tante Lulu beamed. “Think thunderbolts.”
Luc groaned.
Sylvie’s mouth dropped open. “Me? No, no, you’ve got the wrong person. I’m Sylvie Fontaine, a… uh, friend of Luc’s.” She stepped forward, hand extended.
To Luc, Tante Lulu said, “Jolie fille. Pretty lady. She really should see Charmaine about that hair, though. A good oil treatment will tame it down. But you done good, boy.”
To Sylvie, she said, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Luc’s great aunt, Louise Rivard, his mama’s aunt, but you can call me Tante Lulu.” The woman, who couldn’t be more than five feet tall, glanced upward as she spoke. Then the old woman shook Sylvie’s hand vigorously. “Welcome to the family.”
The family? What does she mean?
Luc rolled his eyes heavenward. Then he reached into the secret back panel of an open armoire, took out a pistol, and checked for ammunition.
“Well, if it isn’t Wild Bill LeDeux,” Sylvie said mockingly to hide her concern over the need for a weapon.
“Hey, babe. If I’m Wild Bill, you’re damn sure gonna be my Annie Oakley,” he countered with a grin. Then he turned serious. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he told them both. “Tante Lulu, you can tell us what happened on the way.”
“On the way where?” She was rubbing her sore wrists.
“Bayou Noir.”
“Bayou Noir! I can’t go there. I have a baby to deliver in Chacahoula… could be this evenin’.” She turned to Sylvie and informed her, “I’m a traiteur, sweetie. A folk healer. Have been for nigh on fifty years. Lots of women still likes me to act the midwife for them. Maybe someday I’ll catch one of your bébés, yes?”
Sylvie’s face heated up at that suggestion, while Luc just chuckled. The clod.
“You got any French fries in that box?” Tante Lulu’s question contradicted her earlier implication that she wouldn’t eat junk food.
“No,” Luc stated dryly. “Just rats.”
“Rats?” his aunt shrieked, jumping backwards and almost falling over. Having a second thought, though, she peered forward as Luc picked up the Happy Meal container and showed his aunt the contents.
“There is a sick side to you, boy,” Tante Lulu commented with a shake of her head. “Reminds me of the time you collected toads when you was a little one. Had thirty-seven of them slimy buggers, as I recall… till your daddy found out.” Her eyes went dark then at some remembrance. Sylvie suspected it had something to do with a beating Luc’s father might have administered for that misdeed. “Used up all my wart remedies on you that time. Seems to me you even had a wart on your—”
“They’re not my rats,” Luc informed her with a laugh. “They’re Sylvie’s pet lab rats.”
“What are they doing in that box… why are they making all that noise?”
There was a brief silence as Luc looked at Sylvie to answer, and she looked at him to answer.
He gave in. “Boinking.”
“Boinking? What’s boinki… oh, I get it.” Tante Lulu sliced Luc a condemning glare. “You gettin’ a foul mouth on you. Don’ be thinkin’ you too old for a taste of my homemade lye soap.”
Tante Lulu seemed to think of something else then and cocked her head to the side… a head covered with the most outrageous blond curls, almost as outrageous as the purple spandex biking outfit she wore. His aunt glanced up at Sylvie, then over to the lab rats, and back up at her again. “Sylvie Fontaine. Are you the chemist with the love potion?”