Johnny Gator (9 page)

“It
is.
 
I’ve seen it myself.”

Odile
pressed her lips together and nodded. “He has a good heart, your man, this
Johnny Gator.”

Confused,
Nola shook her head. “His name is Jean Batiste Loutrel, but he does answer to
Johnny.”

“I
know.” The two words were simple yet firm. “And he becomes a gator so me, I
call him ‘Johnny Gator’.
 
He’s been
punished more than enough for whatever wrong the old witch thought him guilty
of doing.”

“So
how do we break the spell? Tell me what we need to do and we’ll do it.”

Just don’t let it include blood
sacrifice.
Or anything depraved.

The
old woman smiled a gap-toothed grin. “You don’t have
do
nothing,
cher.
 
It will end soon anyway.”

She
must’ve missed something, Nola thought, or Odile had. “I don’t understand. How
could it just be over?”

“Most
spells, unless the voodoo woman is powerful, end with the death of the one who
made it,” Odile said. Her voice remained matter-of-fact. “She gonna die
soon.
 
Two days, maybe three, I
think.
 
Then it should be over because
Delphina, she’s no
mambo
.
 
Her powers are adequate but not strong enough
to last past death.”

Nola
gaped at her. Could what they sought be so simple? It didn’t seem possible.
“Are you sure? How will we know?”

The
older woman shrugged. “I suppose when that Johnny Gator don’t shift anymore,
then
you’d know,” she said. “If you want to be sure, though,
there’s a little ceremony.”

“Tell
me.”

Odile’s
dark eyes glowed. “It’s called a
lave-tet
,”
she said. “It’s like a bath and baptism together.
 
The water cleanses and purifies with the help
of some natural things, flowers and herbs and salt.
 
The spell will end anyway, but this will
remove any lingering effects or energy.
 
Most of the things you can get here in my granddaughter’s shop, the rest
at the supermarket.
 
It’s easy to do.”

Without
hesitation, without knowing the details, Nola nodded. “I’ll do it then.”

“
Bien,
” the old woman said. “There are
many versions of the same, some more complicated, some not.
 
This is one of the simplest ones but I know
it will work for you and your Johnny Gator.”

An
hour later, with the necessary items bought, she hit the highway back to Caddo
Lake and Johnny.
 
On the way, she
reviewed the steps Odile gave her and sang along to the car stereo.

It’ll work. I know it will.
 
Now we just have to wait until we hear
Delphina has died.

The
old house on the lakeshore loomed empty, though, when she arrived, and although
she called his name Johnny was nowhere to be found.
 
Imagining him to be swimming the dark waters
in gator form came all too easily and Nola tried to forget the images in her
head.
 
He could be anywhere, gone home or fishing or to town for
supplies.
 
Neither of us knew how long my
trip would take or when I’d be back so it’s silly to think he should be here
waiting.

Nola
walked through the house, lonesome and restless.
 
She couldn’t help but worry Johnny might be
out on the lake somewhere and in potential danger.
 
If he’d shot and killed gators for the money,
so did many others.
 
She worried, too,
about the other shifting gators that he’d described, the ones Delphina summoned
who had held him in place for the ceremony.
 
As long as the old hoodoo woman lived, she presented a threat.
 
Although Nola wouldn’t wish ill on anyone,
she hoped Odile was right about
Delphina’s
imminent
passing.

Uncertain
where Johnny might be and when he’d return, Nola settled into one of the porch
rockers with a book.
 
She read a little
but lifted her eyes from the page often to scan the lake, searching for his
familiar johnboat.
 
When the shadows
shifted and grew longer, Nola spotted him, maneuvering the craft across the
lake water with skill.
 
He brought it to
shore and grinned at her.
 
In one hand,
he held a stringer of bass.
 
“You’re
back,
cher,”
he said. “Is that good
news or bad?”

“Good,
I think,” Nola replied. She sketched out what Odile had said and what needed to
be done.

Johnny
flopped down on the top step with a sigh. “Well, she’s not dead yet, I don’t
think.
 
I came by there fishing and she
was out on her porch, sunning like an old snake.”

“Odile
said ‘soon’,” she said. “Why did you go way back there?”

He
shrugged. “Curious, I guess.”

“You’re
lucky curiosity didn’t kill the Cajun,” she replied. “So what do you think?”

His
lips twisted together into a tight knot.
 
After a long pause, he said, “If Delphina does die, then I’m willing to
try the
lave-tet.
 
Maybe it will work.”

“You
sound like you’re not sure.”

“I’m
not.” His laugh sounded a little bitter. “I can hope but I don’t count on
nothing
till it happens.
 
You want to fry fish for supper?”

Nola
gave up further discussion.
 
Nothing
could happen until Delphina crossed over. “Sure.”

“Then
I’ll clean them,” he said.

By
the time the western sky turned orange and purple, they sat down to a feast
with fried bass, cornbread muffins, warmed up dirty rice, and corn.
 
Nola enjoyed the food but she liked watching
Johnny eat with gusto even more.
 
His
shoulders were relaxed and his posture easy.
 
Some of the lines in his face had eased. Just the possibility of putting
an end to his terrible shifting life improved everything.

The
first day after her return passed slow, the golden sun baking the bayou waters
with languid heat.
 
On the second, Nola
told Johnny over coffee and beignets that she had decided to stay, no matter
what happened. “I’m not going back to Dallas.
 
I don’t want to be there anymore.
 
I never liked it much, but after what happened I know I would never feel
comfortable again.”

His
dark eyes met hers. “If you’re not going back, then where will you go?”

Nola
reached for his hand. “Nowhere, I plan to stay here.
 
I’ve already contacted the school district to
tell them I won’t be back.
 
I may teach
again, but here, not there.
 
Maybe I
could teach at Marshall or somewhere else close. I want to be with you.
 
We can live in this old house or move to
yours.
 
I don’t care, as long as we’re
together.”

“What
if this doesn’t work?” His voice came out of his mouth very soft, very gentle.
“Then what,
cher?”

A
ball of tears formed in her throat and clogged it.
 
Her chest ached with the need to weep but she
forced a smile instead. “Then we live with it,” she said.
It wouldn’t be what I want and I don’t know if I can but I will try if
I must, because I love him.

Johnny
nodded. “All right, then. But we go wait at my house for word and if we do the
lave-tet
we do it there.”

“Sure,
but why?”

He
grinned. “I have a bigger bathtub, that’s why.”

Nola
smiled back. “That’s reason enough.”

Chapter Seven

It
rained hard the second night.
 
Heavy
thunder boomed across Caddo and shook Johnny’s house.
 
They sat on the front porch and watched
lightning stitch fire across the black sky.
 
The wind picked up and blew the rain toward them.
 
They retreated inside and watched nature’s
majestic power through the window.
 

In
the morning, they awakened to the sound of a motorboat approaching Johnny’s
makeshift deck with speed.
 
Johnny
untangled his arms from Nola and reached for his jeans. “I don’t know what it
is,” he said. “But it’s probably important.”

By
the time she dressed, put a pot of coffee on, and joined him, there were three
boats, and one was from Lake Patrol.
 
Nola strolled down to the water, trying not to hurry, but her heart
pounded a rumba beat.
 
Maybe this is something about Delphina,
she thought.
Maybe.

Johnny
held out his left arm in open invitation when she arrived so Nola walked into
his embrace.
 
He stood with his arm
draped around her shoulders, displaying their relationship and his possession
to the gathered men. “What happened?” she asked.

A
tall, lean man with a Stetson tipped back on his head spoke. “The Witch of
Caddo is dead. I found her body floating beneath some cypress trees early this
morning when I went out to fish.
 
Don’t
know if she got caught in the storm last night or what but she’s sure enough dead.”

Nola
shivered, impressed with Odile’s power.
 
She had called it, exactly.
 
Johnny tightened his arm around her. “
Cher,
this is Dwight Johnson, a neighbor living on the lake, too.
Dwight, this is
ma
cherie
amour
, Nola Delaney.
 
The Broussards,
they were her grandparents, and she’s come home to Caddo.”

Dwight
nodded. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Nola.”

“Thank
you. I’m sorry it’s under such tragic circumstances.”

Johnny
leaned closer and whispered low. “You’d better go back to the house.
 
He’s got Delphina’s body in his boat and it’s
not a pretty sight.
 
Gators have been at
her, maybe gar, too. I’ll be up when they finish.”

Karma’s such a bitch.
“Okay. I’ve got plans to make for
tonight, Jean Batiste.”

He
grinned. “
Oui, cher,
I think you do.”

****

A
full-bellied moon rose over Caddo in a clear sky where a thousand stars
sparkled.
 
A few wisps of clouds blew
across the moon. A slight breeze rippled the lake waters.
 
In the silver light, Johnny stripped naked
and came to the porch steps.
 
The white
candles Nola had placed and lit brightened the night with their steady flame.

“Come
and be cleansed,” she said. They were the words Odile had taught her. “Come
shed any darkness and any wicked influence.”

“I
come,” Johnny replied.

Nola
nodded and held open the screen door so he could pass into the house.
 
She followed behind.
 
In the bathroom, the claw-foot tub held
water.
 
Rose petals and lavender blossoms
floated on the surface. Before she drew the bath, Nola had blessed the tub with
sea salt and holy water she brought from church in town.
 
Now she sprinkled dry herbs over the water, a
little sage, and some other ones Odile didn’t name.
 
More candles flickered, placed all over the
room.

Johnny
stepped into the tub and stood as Nola poured water from the lake over
him.
 
Then she made the sign of the cross
on his forehead with blessed olive oil,
then
anointed
his wrists with the same.
 
“You were born
from water,” she said. “You came out of the womb in water and now the same shall
cleanse you, body and soul.”

Then
he sat down, lay prone in the oversized tub, and slipped beneath the
water.
 
Nola watched with more than a
little trepidation as he remained under for a full minute.
 
Johnny rose, sputtering and dripping with a
brilliant smile.
 
“Now what?” he asked.

“You
stay for thirteen minutes,” Nola replied. “I’ll time it.”

“Then what?”

“You
can’t make love to me, not even masturbate, for twenty-four hours,” she told
him. “Or drink alcohol or indulge in any decadence.”

“That’s
a shame,” he said.

She
smiled at him. “But we’ll have the rest of our lives for that.”

When
he finished, she brought a brand new, clean white bath towel and dried
him.
 
Then he held her tight in his arms,
all he could do for now.

One
day passed and then seven.
 
Johnny didn’t
shift.
 
A week became two,
then
doubled into a month but he didn’t become a gator.
 
By the end of summer when autumn colors
delivered their brilliant hues to the wildness surrounding the lake and the
migratory birds took wing for warmer places, they were certain he would never again
turn from man into alligator.