Bayou

Chapter 7 ~ Clean

Chapter 7

Julia awoke refreshed, renewed and on a mission. Every feminine, grandmotherly bone in her body activated. She opened windows, organized, and beat the dirty life out of curtains and couches.

Both kids sat in the middle of the living room, munching on dry cereal and watching her zoom around the space.

I had none of Julia's energy, but I'd changed my clothes, my nausea had gone, my muscles felt stronger, and my head blessedly didn't pound. The chemicals were finally fading, and it was a relief to see myself healing versus the alternative. I'd had no idea how my body would react without it.

I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of room-temperature instant coffee gripped between my hands. Merle had packed three jars of it. I'd found them while searching the bags that morning, and the gold mine I'd sifted through made me wonder how long Merle had been planning this. I was most excited about the large bottle of whiskey hidden in a side pocket. If I'd ever needed a drink before, I needed one now.

Croc was sitting across from me, curiosity shifting between where Julia moved about and my glass.

"Croc?" Julia flew into the kitchen like a hummingbird, hands on hips, buzzing with momentum. "Do you have any cleaning supplies at all? Some soap? A rag?"

His forehead crinkled, creating lines in the caked mud. Something told me cleanliness wasn't on the extensive list of things Croc could provide.

"What about under the sink?" She pointed to the cabinet doors.

Croc shook his head. "Pappy locked it." He paused, thoughtfully. "That's a rule." He smiled, then, as if proud to have one of his own.

Julia inspected it then looked at me. "It has a child lock on it."

Julia fingered the latch for a second, and the doors popped open to reveal the bounty within. "Jackpot!" She pulled out the bottles, one after the other, stacking them all onto the counter above her. They tipped over into the sink, too many to fit on the counter.

Croc seemed indignant that she had the nerve to break his rule, but instead of protesting, he shook his head and blew out a breath. I wanted to laugh. Already, Julia had become the boss of this place, swamp man included. I pictured Merle sat next to us, rolling his eyes and giving me a knowing look, and my chest ached in a way that wasn't all sadness.

"Willow," she said when she finally reached an end. She tossed a pair of yellow gloves at me. "Finish up that coffee, girl. We're gonna scrub this place from top to bottom."

I blew out a breath and sent up a silent prayer that she wouldn't assign me the bathroom.

***

Croc watched with an avid curiosity as Julia delegated, and we both sprayed and scrubbed and soaked and scraped. He wasn't idle long, however, not with Julia around. That is, once she convinced him that he was allowed to touch the chemicals.

She utilized his height, setting him to work on everything above our heads, then his strength when no amount of elbow grease was enough to remove a particular spot of grime. Each time he'd finish up, she'd praise him, and that beaming smile would fill his face once again.

I got the piles. Mountain upon mountain of stuff filled every empty corner, and it was my job to give it a place or mark it as junk. The kitchen had mostly garbage, discarded bottles with labels too faded to tell what they'd once held. Fish bones with rotted heads and deteriorated fins, and other things I couldn't name and didn't try to. I pushed through the task, eager to finish before my brain figured out I was blocking its signals to my stomach.