Allie's Bayou Rescue Read online

  Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series

  “Allie’s Bayou Rescue is an awesome book to read together as mom and daughter! We love how real it was about the obstacles we face as girls—but not without a God who cares for us in our struggles, pursues us, and knows EXACTLY where we are going, AND HAS IT all under control—especially when we don’t.”

  ELISABETH AND GRACE HASSELBECK, TV PERSONALITY AND

  DAUGHTER … AND DAUGHTERS OF THE ONE TRUE KING!!

  Other Books in the Princess in

  Camo Series:

  Running from Reality (Book 2)

  ZONDERKIDZ

  Allie’s Bayou Rescue

  Copyright © 2018 by Missy Robertson and Mia Robertson

  Illustrations © 2018 by Mina Price

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zonderkidz, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  ISBN 978-0-310-76247-8

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Zonderkidz is a trademark of Zondervan.

  Cover design: Kris Nelson

  Interior design: Denise Froehlich

  Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

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  To my amazing children, nieces, and nephews … May you never take for granted the real-life adventures God has blessed our family with over the last few years. Dream big, look to Him as your trail guide, and enjoy the journey!

  —Mom (Aunt Missy)

  To my cousins—thank you for making every day an adventure. I love y’all!

  —Mia

  Contents

  Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series

  Other Books in the Princess in Camo Series:

  Chapter 1: Change-up

  Chapter 2: New Duck in the Blind

  Chapter 3: Carroway Convention

  Chapter 4: Convincing Cousins

  Chapter 5: Initiation Appreciation

  Chapter 6: Dove Love

  Chapter 7: Initiation List

  Chapter 8: All In

  Chapter 9: Clearing the Air

  Chapter 10: Unwanted Clutter

  Chapter 11: Heart to Heart

  Chapter 12: Setting Up the Table

  Chapter 13: Dark Clouds

  Chapter 14: Doctor Shocker

  Chapter 15: The Trouble Begins

  Chapter 16: Rocky Road

  Chapter 17: Pumping for Information

  Chapter 18: Mud Slinging

  Chapter 19: Challenge Two

  Chapter 20: Blend

  Chapter 21: You Call that Singin’?

  Chapter 22: Long, Lost Uncle?

  Chapter 23: To Shed or Not to Shed

  Chapter 24: Waiting and Wondering

  Chapter 25: The Big Reveal

  Chapter 26: Reptile Wrestling

  Chapter 27: Bayou Blackout

  Chapter 28: Mamaw’s Return

  Chapter 29: For Sale

  Chapter 30: Duck Blind Dedication

  Check out this excerpt from Book 2 in the Princess in Camo series: Running from Reality

  CHAPTER 1

  Change-up

  Allie, we need to talk. Some things are about to change around here!”

  Mom pulled a stool out from our kitchen island and patted the red plaid cushion for me to come and sit down. But hearing the word “change” stirred up my stomach and made me feel more like throwing up. Or doing a triple-backflip. Sometimes, when I get real nervous, I triple-flip and then throw up.

  But Mom was smiling, so this had to be a good change, right?

  I edged my way to the stool, and tried to think about the very best change that could possibly happen to me.

  “Did my latest allergy tests come back? Can I eat nuts now without having my tongue swell up to the size of a bullfrog?” That would be awesome. Just to have one “death food” off my list of, well . . . too many.

  Mom put her hand on my shoulder.

  “No, honey, you’re still allergic. The tests did come back, though, and we might have found what’s causing your asthma attacks.”

  Panic shot from my stomach to my throat.

  Please don’t say pasta. Please don’t say pasta. Please don’t say pasta.

  Mom scrunched up her nose.

  “It looks like mold’s a suspect.”

  “Mold?” I threw my hands up in the air. “That’s just great. We live in Floodsville, USA.”

  “Yes, I know. And we’ll have to work something out about that. But don’t you worry about it at all. For now, let’s talk about the big news of the day.”

  “Wait. Are you telling me that the big news of the day is bigger than finding out that living in Louisiana could kill me at any moment?”

  Mom pulled out a stool and sat down. “Well, when you put it like that, no. But Louisiana is not going to kill you. We’ll work it out, you’ll see.”

  I hopped up on the stool next to her, swallowed hard, and gripped the cushion to hold on tight.

  You can handle this, Allie. Whatever it is.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Okay, give me the news. I’m ready.”

  Mom’s blue eyes popped open wider than usual, and she slapped the counter.

  “You’re getting a new cousin!”

  Another cousin? Well, that didn’t seem like huge news at all. My dad has three brothers who are married to women who tend to have babies from time to time.

  Mold seemed to be a bigger deal. But I pretended to go along with the excitement anyway.

  “Who’s pregnant this time? Aunt Janie?”

  Mom shook her head.

  “Aunt Kassie?”

  “No.”

  “Well, Aunt Lorraine’s a little older, but that would make for an interesting TV episode.”

  “Allie!”

  “I’m just saying . . .”

  My whole family stars in a reality TV show called Carried Away with the Carroways. For some reason, millions of people are interested in how all my uncles, aunts, grandparents, and cousins live in the Louisiana Bayou. I have a hard time understanding the fascination, because it’s just something I’ve always known. And to be honest, I think we can be a little boring at times. Most days are spent filming what’s going on around here—just us, living out our regular lives. It’s kinda nuts. But at least not the kind of nuts that will cause me to stop breathing.

  Mom leaned in close to me, and pushed my long, dark-blonde hair back behind one ear.

  “Allie, nobody’s pregnant. Kass
ie and Wayne are adopting Hunter!”

  Now, if we had been filming a Carroway TV episode at that very moment—this is where the editors would have added the “dun, dun, dun,” music into the scene.

  Hunter . . . is going to become a Carroway?

  Hunter?

  Mom nudged my shoulder.

  “Allie, isn’t that exciting?”

  I held onto that cushion with all my might to keep from bolting.

  “Um . . . yes, ma’am.” I tried not to make eye contact, but Mom wasn’t having it.

  “Well, you don’t look too excited.” She reached over and pulled down on my cheek with her thumb. “And your eyes are all glazed over. What did you eat for lunch?”

  I shrugged.

  “Mac and cheese.” It’s a good thing I’m not allergic to dairy or wheat, or I’d starve to death.

  “Then why do you look so pale?” Mom put her hand on my forehead and scrunched her eyebrows together. “How’s your breathing?”

  I breathed in, held it, and then blew out. I wondered for a moment if this mold issue could get me out of filming TV episodes in the swamp.

  “I’m good,” I said, but I’m sure my fidgeting was giving me away. “Just trying to process the news.”

  Mom pulled her hand back and tilted her head to the side. One eyebrow shot up a little.

  “Hey, I know you don’t love change. And I know that Hunter can be a little rowdy at times.”

  “That’s not a problem. Kendall’s way rowdier than Hunter.”

  Kendall is my thirteen-year-old cousin who always sings at the top of her lungs. She’s the daughter of Kassie and Wayne, so after the adoption, that would make her Hunter’s sister. And that would make for a loud household.

  Mom continued. “And I know he can be messy.”

  “Nope, Lola’s got him beat. Have you ever seen her room? You could hide Ruby’s entire preschool Sunday school class in her clothes piles.”

  Lola and Ruby are also my cousins, ages eleven and ten. They’re the daughters of my Uncle Josiah and Aunt Janie. You’d never know they’re sisters. They don’t look a thing alike and their personalities are the exact opposite.

  “Okay then.” Mom laughed a little. “I will admit, Hunter goes a little overboard in his collecting of reptiles for pets.”

  I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.

  “Mom, reptiles swarm this place. I’m glad he catches some to keep them from crawling all over me.”

  Mom slid off her stool, walked around the kitchen island, and opened the refrigerator door. She poured a glass of iced tea and took a sip.

  “Then I don’t understand, Allie. What’s the problem?”

  The truth is—I love Hunter. He’s funny and smart, and I love his big laugh. Sometimes he uses complicated words that I have to look up. But my vocabulary grades have been improving because of it. I’d been praying for him to find a loving family ever since Kassie and Wayne took him in as a foster child a couple of months earlier.

  But . . . there was a problem. A big one.

  “Allie, I asked you a question.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed. She put one hand on her hip, and with the other she shook her cup, rattling the ice cubes.

  I struggled to pull myself out of the twilight zone.

  “I’m sorry. I’m really happy for everyone.”

  “Then why do you look like you just whiffed fish guts?”

  “I do not look like that. Really, everything’s fine.”

  I tried to slip off the stool and run away, but Mom grabbed me by the shoulder.

  “Allie Kate, you will stay put until we finish this conversation.” When she whips out “Allie Kate,” she means business.

  I scooted back up to the middle of the stool and put on my serious face.

  “Yes, ma’am. What was the question again?”

  “What’s the problem with Hunter becoming a Carroway?”

  It appeared there was no getting out of it, so I tried to explain.

  “Well,” I sighed. “You know how all us cousins hang out all the time?”

  “Of course. You can hardly avoid it. You work together, go to school together, live within shouting distance of each other . . .”

  “Yes.”

  I opened my left hand and spread the fingers out to count on them.

  “And there’s me, Kendall, Lola, and Ruby.”

  I ticked off all four fingers, leaving the thumb without a name.

  “Yes, but you have a bunch of other cousins too.”

  “But they’re either a lot younger or a lot older. I’m talking about the ones who are the same age. Me, Kendall, Lola, and Ruby.”

  I ticked my fingers again.

  “Okay, yeah.”

  “Well, now we’re getting one more in the same age group.”

  Mom stared down at my fingers.

  “That seems perfect. It’ll make a whole hand full of cousins.” She laughed.

  I made a fist. The fingers all folded in together, and the thumb, well—it stuck out. No matter what I did with it, it just didn’t seem to fit in. And there was only one reason for it.

  This was going to be a challenge.

  “Mom, the problem is . . . Hunter’s a boy.”

  CHAPTER 2

  New Duck in the Blind

  After my meeting with Mom, I changed into my favorite coral sweats and camp T-shirt and escaped to the middle of our park-like neighborhood to do a few mandatory backflips on the grass to blow off some steam. Then I climbed up the uneven pink-and-purple wood steps that lead to the Diva Duck Blind. A duck blind is kind of like a fort—a place where hunters hide from unsuspecting ducks. Most duck blinds are located out near the water—where ducks are—and they’re also camouflaged with brown and green branches. You know, so ducks can’t see them.

  The Diva Duck Blind is not so “camo.” It’s a pink and purple treehouse where Kendall, Ruby, Lola, and I hide out when we need to escape reality TV life. The Diva Duck Blind doesn’t have much to do with ducks either—except that we do have a couple of pink and purple “glitter ducks” hanging from the ceiling, and when we spot our wardrobe manager, Hannah, coming up the hill, we all “duck” in the blind so she can’t find us.

  I pulled the cords to raise the weather-proof awnings that cover our two open windows and took a moment to soak in the warm October sunshine. Then I plopped in the middle of my favorite turquoise beanbag chair, pulled my phone from my pocket, and typed out a group text to Kendall, Lola, and Ruby:

  People, we have a serious issue to discuss.

  Meet at one o’clock in the Diva. Be prepared

  to give your secret password. NO exceptions!

  Seconds after I pressed send, Lola texted me back.

  What’s wrong?

  I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand. I shouldn’t have made the text sound so serious. Lola would imagine us all dying of some rare disease before she got here.

  Another text buzzed in. This time from Ruby.

  Oooh, fun, a meeting! Can I bring cookies?

  I shook my head. These two are sisters, really? I responded back.

  Cookies? For sure! No nuts.

  And I grinned and waited, knowing just what Ruby would write back.

  We’re all nuts!

  And then she added a bunch of those laughing-til-you-cry emojis.

  I didn’t expect a text back from Kendall, because her phone is usually dead from all the recording she does of herself making singing videos. She’s the one who wanted to name the duck blind “Diva.” We went with the name because of the alliteration, and because Kendall really is a great singer. She’s not too into details though—like charging her phone—so I hoped one of the other cousins would see her and bring her to the meeting.

  I checked the time on my phone. Twelve-thirty. I got up and pulled a Bible out of a backpack that was hanging from a hook on the “Allie wall.”

  Lord, I need help. How do you want this meeting to go?

  I opened up to where my b
ookmark was. Romans, 5:3 “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

  I’ve only lived twelve years, but this is definitely my “life-verse.” It gives me encouragement when I’m frustrated with allergy shots, allergic reactions to new foods, trips to the hospital, always catching pneumonia, carrying around an emergency allergy kit, and then—as if all that isn’t enough—having to be the “kid who can’t have the snack” pretty much everywhere I go.

  But all my stupid allergy suffering wasn’t the topic of the day. Today the topic was Hunter. I needed guidance, and God promises to give it to those who ask, so I did the only thing I could think of to do. I prayed, and then I turned the page. This is what jumped out at me: “Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.” Romans 12:9–10

  I read the verse to myself about five times. Then I read it twice out loud. I paced around the Diva for a minute, staring at the verse. Then I sat back down on the beanbag and took an honest look at our Carroway cousin clubhouse. All four of us girls had been hanging out here together for years, laughing and goofing off, sharing all our problems, crying, and even praying together. I put my Bible down, stood back up, and walked around to each wall, running my fingers over our names that we’d carved in the pink-painted wood. Each cousin has her own wall, with Bible verses carved on different-sized wood pieces and nailed in. One of the verses on my wall was from 2 Corinthians 5:17: “Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone, a new life has begun!”

  I nailed that to my wall the day I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I was nine years old, and that same day—right after I was baptized—I accidentally took a bite of a peanut butter cookie at church and almost died. Ever since then, I’ve carried three things with me in a mini pink backpack wherever I go: an Epi-pen, a list of the foods that could kill me, and a smooth, blue-polished stone with “Romans 5:3” carved into it.