Allie's Bayou Rescue Read online

  “You look a little better,” Ruby said. “I’ll go get your stuff so you don’t have to climb back up the stairs.”

  Ruby ran back up to the blind, leaving an awkward silence behind. I needed to change the subject.

  “Let’s do the initiation this weekend,” I said. “At dinner tonight, we can ask Mamaw if we can all come for a sleepover.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to feel well enough by the weekend?” Hunter’s creased forehead and narrowed eyes staring at me made me nervous.

  “Of course. I’m fine.” I stood and took a deep breath. “See? Good as new.”

  Ruby finally ran back from the blind with my jacket and my emergency medical kit.

  “We’re having the initiation this weekend,” Hunter told her. “I can’t wait. I’ll show you girls. I’m a Carroway boy—through and through.” Then he turned to me. “Allie, are you sure you’re okay? Should I walk you back to your house?”

  “No. I’m good. Really.”

  Hunter sighed. “That’s a relief.” Then he gave me that winning smile. “I better go change. See you at dinner!”

  And he sped off.

  “I hope that gator doesn’t recognize him as a Carroway boy,” Lola said.

  Kendall put both hands on her cheeks.

  “Poor Hunter! We’re sendin’ him to his doom.”

  “Don’t you think you’re both being a little dramatic? You’ll see. This Uncle Andy thing is a big, fat, fabricated story used to scare little kids on camping trips. That’s all it is.”

  “I want to believe that,” Ruby said. “But . . .”

  “But what?”

  She held up her hands. “Where are all Mamaw’s tablecloths?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Unwanted Clutter

  Time was ticking, and I needed to get back home to clear the table for the filming of our family dinner. When Mom added “clearing the dinner table” to my chore list last year, I never thought we’d be doing dinner more than once in a day. Since all our TV shows end with a meal, let’s just say we film ourselves eating a lot.

  This time, when I walked in the door, I almost ran into a nicely-dressed middle-aged businesswoman wearing a butter-colored skirt-suit with matching heels.

  “Hello,” she said, and she stuck her pen into the side of her thick blonde, perfectly-styled hair. She held out her hand to shake mine. “You must be Allie.”

  I shook her hand and grinned.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

  “Your mom said it was okay for me to come in.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “People come and go out of here all the time.”

  “My name is Ellen. I’m from Bayou’s Best Realty.”

  My gut cramped.

  “Realty? Like in selling houses?”

  Ellen nodded. “Yes. Selling and buying. Sometimes it’s houses, sometimes property. I absolutely love your house.”

  “Me too. Except for the creaky ceiling and the flooded-out floor.”

  “What?” Ellen crossed her arms, but then laughed and brushed my comments away with her hand. “All easy fixes. A house this age is bound to have a few flaws. But the layout is perfect for a big family to entertain. And all the upgrades are simply fabulous.”

  An energy jolt rose from my toes to my throat.

  “Are we selling our house?”

  Ellen put her hand over her mouth, and her eyes shifted away from me.

  “Oh, you’ll want to talk to your parents about that. They called me out to bring them some information and to have a look around. I left a folder for them on your table over there.” She pointed over toward the cluttered table and then held out her hand to shake again.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Allie.”

  “Likewise, ma’am. Can I walk you to the door?”

  “Not necessary. I can see myself out.”

  “Okay.”

  “But don’t forget to tell your mom about the folder.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And, by the way, I’ve been praying for you and your allergies. It must be horrible to be allergic to nuts. I practically live on them.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I lied, and then I thought, With all these millions of people always praying for me, I should be healed by Thanksgiving and be able to eat a whole pecan pie without a problem.

  The door closed behind Ellen, and I darted to the table to look for the folder.

  It sat right on top of a stack of Bibles and devotional books, which sat next to an open laptop, a bag of potato chips, a plate of cookies, and a half-full plastic tumbler of iced-tea. And that sat next to my Math book, a cheerleading bow, and my unzipped backpack with all my pens and paper spilling out. That sat next to some wadded-up napkins and a box of cereal that I grabbed breakfast out of that morning.

  I moved my backpack to the living room sofa, closed up the cereal box and placed it back in the pantry, and then sat down to read the contents of the folder.

  The first page showed a picture of a large, white two-story house, with a big ugly cactus in the front yard. The backyard looked like it was part of a golf course.

  And the address said it was in . . . Arizona.

  Spacious and modern, the Joshua model is designed specifically for the homeowner who lives in this popular tourist destination. The “house-within-a-house” gives everyone the privacy needed when guests arrive for a long golf weekend, while providing an oversized great room for parties, fund-raising events, and family holiday gatherings . . .

  Bleah.

  I lifted the page out of the folder and walked it to the shredder. Before I could stop myself, the Joshua model was history.

  I returned to the folder to read the next page.

  It had a picture of my house on it!

  Louisiana charm, with celebrity neighbors. This upgraded beauty will have you feeling like it’s the holidays all year long because there’s room for everyone! Multi-level, with five spacious bedrooms, a den, library, and game room. And don’t forget the pool out back. Plus, you can wave to the famous Carroway family on your way to work. This one won’t last!

  On the bottom of the page was a picture of Ellen with her phone number listed next to the logo of Bayou’s Best Realty.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  My hand shook as I flipped to the next page. It was a boring printout of numbers that I couldn’t read through the blur of tears that filled my eyes and threatened to drop and drench all the stupid pieces of paper.

  And then a thought hit me. I had been focusing all my attention on adding a new cousin, but the reality was, we were going to lose one.

  Me.

  With the help of the adrenaline still raging through my system, I sped through the living area, clearing everything. I shoved shoes under the sofa, threw clothes and backpacks into the closet, and stacked the books, papers, and the dreaded folder on the table in the laundry room. I dropped the plastic cups in the sink, then pulled the red-checkered tablecloth out of the linen closet and spread it out on the table. As I smoothed the bumps out, I thought of how many tablecloths we own.

  At least twenty. Could be thirty. They practically spill out of the closet every time I open it.

  And then I thought of “the gator.”

  And for just one second, I wondered out loud, “Why does Mamaw only use placemats?”

  The door at the side of the house opened, and in walked Zeke with that positive grin he always has plastered on his face.

  “Allie, you’re a treasure, you know that? The place looks great!”

  Zeke’s aware of our clutter and how I’m the one who always takes care of it. He rubbed his belly. “Food’s coming in soon. You ready for us to set up?”

  I nodded. “What are we having?”

  Zeke wiggled his dark eyebrows up and down.

  “Chicken and biscuits. Mac and cheese.”

  I didn’t react. Even comfort food didn’t sound good right now with my stomach still in knots.

  “Zeke? How lon
g do you think, until we really start filming? Hannah said four, but you know how it goes around here better than she does.”

  Zeke—who has a master’s degree in counseling in addition to his killer directing skills—walked in a few feet closer and gave me the squinty-eyes.

  “You okay, Allie-oop?”

  I can never fool Zeke, so I just shook my head.

  Zeke pulled up a chair and sat down near me.

  “Hmmm. Anything I can do?”

  I shook my head again.

  “It must be bad if you’re not talking.” Zeke ran both hands back through the top of his short, curly black hair and then clasped them both behind his neck.

  I shrugged.

  “It might be. I’m not sure. I need some time to figure it all out.”

  Zeke tilted his head to stretch his neck, first to the left, then to the right. He glanced at the gigantic round clock in our living room, and leaned his chair on the back two legs.

  “We’re not going to need you till five o’clock. You think that’s enough time to find your smile?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay then. Get outta here.” He pointed at me. “And don’t worry about the smile. If it doesn’t come back with you, we’ll just stuff a biscuit in your mouth and film that.”

  “Deal.”

  I turned to leave, and Zeke called after me. “Allie?’

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”

  “You know who you can talk to, right?”

  I grabbed for the doorknob. “That’s where I’m going right now.”

  “Good. I’ll see you at five.”

  I opened the door and ran for the Diva.

  CHAPTER 11

  Heart to Heart

  In minutes, I was lying face down in the turquoise beanbag.

  I tried not to cry since I didn’t want a puffy face for filming, but I couldn’t help it.

  God was going to take me away from Louisiana. And Mamaw and Papaw. And my cousins. All the places I loved. How could this be? Just because of stupid allergies?

  I pounded the beanbag with my fist.

  “I don’t want to go, God! Can’t you heal me? Wouldn’t it be better for me to stay here with all of my family? I don’t understand!”

  I hit the beanbag three more times. And then I was out of breath again, so I stopped talking.

  And that’s when God started talking to me. Well, I didn’t hear any out-loud voice, just a soft whisper in my heart.

  Breathe, Allie. I am in charge of everything, even the air that goes into your lungs. Trust me.

  I turned onto my side, took a shallow breath, and stared up at all the Scripture boards I had pounded into the “Allie wall.” One of them caught my eye, so I got up to look at it more closely.

  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.”

  This was Ruby’s favorite verse. She gave this plaque to me in the hospital the day I almost died after eating the peanut butter cookie. I wondered if I would ever be a “regular kid” after that day. The answer, since then, had been no.

  Nothing about me is regular.

  Is that good or bad, God?

  I rested my forehead on the plaque, as if maybe the truth of the words in the verse would soak in and fill my useless understanding. Maybe I was panicking for no reason. There could be lots of reasons that both a home appraiser and a realtor would visit my house in one day, right?

  Right. I was toast. Arizona burnt toast.

  My breathing became more difficult, which made me mad. Being in the Diva was supposed to calm me down not make me more anxious. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up some music. I pressed play on one of my favorite hymns: “It Is Well with My Soul.”

  This version was actually the one that I, Kendall, Ruby, and Lola sang in church last year. People cried when we sang it, and I didn’t really understand why. Probably because everything was going well with me at the time. It was a little different listening to it now.

  When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well, with my soul.

  My “lot” was kind of stinking right now. Did God really want to teach me to say it’s okay?

  “I’m not a very good student, God,” I said out loud. “But I’ll try.”

  And I sang out loud with the recording through the rest of the song. Somewhere in the middle of it, I tried to imagine Hunter’s crackly voice singing the echo part, and it made me laugh. And that made me think of the initiation—set to take place this weekend.

  Just maybe one of our last fun things together as cousins before I moved.

  CHAPTER 12

  Setting Up the Table

  There we sat, throwing rolls at each other. The cousins, I mean. And we only really threw one roll, several times. And that was only after Kendall accidentally dropped it on the floor, and my dog, Hazel Mae, licked it.

  Hunter nailed Lola in the shoulder.

  “Hey, isn’t it enough that you’ve already launched several frogs at me today?”

  “Just working on my trajectory,” Hunter said. Then he smiled big.

  Lola smoothed her shiny short hair and tried to hide the pink streak under some other layers when the cameraman came her way.

  Then she grabbed the roll and sent it flying my way.

  “Hey! I didn’t launch any frogs at you.”

  “I know, but you were the one who called us all up there for the secret meeting. We were sitting ducks.”

  “Shhh. If you keep talking loud, the other table will hear and start asking questions.”

  Kendall, who was sitting next to me and had been taking a couple of selfies wearing yet another new choker, leaned into the table and talked in a low voice.

  “Maybe this is a good time to ask Mamaw about the weekend, while we’re filming and all. The parents will more likely go along with it.”

  “Oooh. Good idea,” I said.

  Usually, we have a rough script of things to say during filming. After we do that, they just let us freestyle, and more often than not someone says something original but hilarious that ends up in the final cut of the episode. That’s what we were doing right then, when all the roll throwing was going on.

  “Okay, here I go. Hunter,” I pointed in his direction, “play along.”

  Hunter nodded.

  I cleared my throat. “Mamaw Kat? Can I ask you something?”

  The adults at the other table all turned their heads to look over at me.

  Mamaw finished chewing and swallowing her biscuit. “What is it, sweet girl?”

  “Umm . . . I was wondering, since we don’t have school or filming on Friday, can all of us come and spend the afternoon and then sleep over with you at your house?”

  “The whole family?” Mamaw’s face lit up. She loves when we all come over.

  “No, just me, Lola, Ruby, and Kendall.”

  “Why, that would be wonderful!” Mamaw said. “I know! We can sleep out on the porch, like old times.”

  “Not likely,” Papaw Ray said. “Got a storm comin’. Could end up with a bunch of screamin’ mimis in the house with us all night. Is that what you want, Kat?”

  “Aw, Ray, they don’t really scream anymore. Look at ’em. They’re almost teenagers. And if it rains, we can pop popcorn and watch movies inside.”

  “That sounds like fun. Can I come?” Hunter found his cue perfectly.

  “No!” Kendall said. “It’s just us girls.”

  “Kendall . . .” Aunt Kassie did not look happy.

  This was playing out just as I had hoped.

  “Allie,” Mom added, “why does it have to be just a girl thing?”

  “I vote for Hunter,” Papaw Ray said. “I don’t want to be overrun by females. We can go fishin’ if the storm goes the other way.”

  “Fishing sounds great!” Hunter said, and he turned
in our direction and winked.

  Lola continued the charade. “I guess we could let you come, Hunter. But can you take a bath or something first? Or change into clean socks? Boys your age smell really bad at the end of the day.”

  “Lola!” Lola’s mom Janie threw a napkin ball in her direction.

  Ruby giggled. “But it’s true.”

  I thought that hearing us complain about smelly boys might bring our dads into the conversation, but they just kept eating and talking about using golf clubs to hit random things into the water.

  “I say, no Hunter, no girls.” Papaw Ray took a long drink of iced tea and then wiped his bearded chin with a napkin. “And if y’all get to squealin’ in the night, I’m sendin’ ya home.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Mamaw said. “It’s gonna be soooo fun, havin’ my grandkids come and spend the night with me.”

  “So, is it okay with all the moms and dads?” I figured I’d just make sure while we were all sitting there together.

  The dads were still talking, but the moms all agreed we could do it—as long as Hunter was included in the plans.

  If only they knew that he was the plan.

  “Allie has a doctor’s appointment on Friday at eleven,” Mom said. “We’ll swing back by here, have lunch, and then I’ll drive y’all out—as long as the weather cooperates.”

  Papaw Ray shook his head. “Never known Louisiana weather to cooperate, but we’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Dark Clouds

  Thursday morning started out bright and sunny, but by mid-afternoon, threatening clouds had moved in. And while we all waited for the raindrops to materialize outside, a class four hurricane was brewing inside.

  “Allie,” Mom ruffled through some papers on the coffee table in the living room. “When you were cleaning up last night, did you happen to see a manila folder anywhere?”

  “Ummm . . .”

  “Ummm, what? Either you saw it or you didn’t.”

  Mom came over to stand by me at the kitchen counter. I turned, stepped toward the sink, and began to rinse some dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Clearing the sink. Helping you with the dishes.”