“Your mother?”
“I’m not afraid of my mother, but she does have the ability to mortify me with that kind of public exposure.”
“So what, then? What are you afraid of?”
She lowered her head and refused to answer or look at him directly.
“Sylvie?” He tilted his head in puzzlement, then gasped with shock. “Of me?”
Her head shot up. “No, you fool. Of me.”
He smiled then… a slow, lazy spreading of lips over bright white teeth. The jerk!
“See?” she cried. “This is not a good idea. You think it’s funny, and I think it’s bone-chilling serious.”
“Ah, Sylv, come on. You and I are adults. We can handle a day or two in the swamps alone. We have self-control.”
“Right,” she said, but what she thought was, Yeah, right!
Minutes later, while Luc was helping Remy load a few last-minute items in the plane, René gave her a warning. “Hurt my brother Luc and you’ll be sorry.”
“Me?” she demurred, a palm to her chest. “Why does everyone think I have the power to hurt Luc? Your aunt and Remy gave me a similar warning. Luc couldn’t care less what I say or do to him.”
“You can’t possibly be that blind,” was René’s only reply.
Within five minutes, they were boarding the hydroplane. That was when Remy gave them one last bit of information he’d somehow forgotten to impart.
“Did you know that Tante Lulu got a citation from the zoning officer in Houma today?”
“Why?” Luc drawled out, as if he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“Seems she was delivering some chickens to Sylvie’s town house. Seems she made a makeshift chicken coop on her patio. Seems the neighbors started to complain about all the clucking.” Remy glanced over at Sylvie and grinned.
She and Luc both groaned and put their faces in their hands.
“Do you have any idea what Tante Lulu means by ‘flocking the bride’?” Remy asked with seeming innocence. “And, by the way, who’s the bride?”
Then Remy laughed. And René did, too. Hilariously.
But she and Luc just groaned again.
The dark predawn skies lightened slowly to an ashy blue, then suddenly burst open over the bayou like a firecracker into clear blue skies, swirling white clouds, and a full orange sun. A perfect moment for the small Piper hydroplane to set down in the stream in front of Luc’s cabin.
Even this early, heat shimmered in the air and mist rose from the slow-moving water. A crimson-headed turkey buzzard wheeled over the trees before swooping down to the water, undaunted by their intrusion into its domain.
As the crow flies, their destination was less than two hundred miles from Houma. By plane, it had taken only thirty-five minutes to get there. But because of the endlessly meandering streams and tributaries, many of them so new that they were unnamed, it would have taken a day or more to reach the site by boat. Fortunately for them, there were a lot of bayous in Louisiana that were not yet civilized or known to men, especially since every time the Mississippi changed its course or flooded over, new bayous were created and old ones swallowed up.
There was no dock; so, Luc and Remy jumped into the shallow water, shoes and all, and made quick work of securing the light plane with ropes to an ancient stump on the sloping bank. It appeared as if Sylvie would have to go into the thigh-deep water as well, if she wanted to traverse the ten feet from floating plane to dry ground.
But no, Luc was holding out his arms to her. “Come on, Sylv. I’ll carry you.”
“Hah!” No way was she going to put herself in his arms again… not willingly… not even for such an innocent reason.
Remy waggled his eyebrows at them as he splashed by, already starting to empty the plane of the many canvas bags of supplies he’d brought, some ordered by Luc and some filled by Tante Lulu.
She eased herself onto the ledge of the open door, Happy Meal box securely held to her chest, and eyed the murky water with distaste. It was stained the color of dark tea from the tannin of tree bark and fallen leaves. Out of her side vision, she saw a mapia alligator cruise by with a baby gator on its back.