Page 84 of Frankly, My Dear

Mama Imelda, with a loud grunt, proceeded to chomp on the book with razor teeth the size of piano keys, combining its learned pages with the goop in its mouth. Then the ten-foot pocketbook walked…kerplunk, kerplunk, kerplunk…over to the nest on comically short legs, with her impressive tail dragging on the ground behind. There the huge animal deposited the masticated mess in her mouth onto the eggs, and with an agility unbelievable for its size clambered on top of her unhatched babies and smoothed the muddy mess by crawling over and around them.

That job done, the beast-that-could-have-been-a-Buick raised its mammoth snout, peered up at Selene and Etienne in the tree, and let out a loud roar, apparently calling to her mate, who was taking a leisurely afternoon swim about twenty feet away. Mama alligator was probably telling papa alligator, “Hey, Harry, can you believe these two nincompoops up in this tree?”

The alligator’s roar also caused a million birds of a million species to squeak and shriek, flying to the sky and scurrying through the trees. And every animal with a breath of good sense left the vicinity pronto. In fact, Selene could have sworn that some of the flowers folded in their stamens and scooted off, as well.

That left her and Etienne.

“You got a spaceship handy, E.T.? What do we do now?”

He looked at her through wide, frightened eyes, his bottom lip trembling. “I dunno. The alligators were never here when I came before.”

“You don’t know!” she cried out, then raised her feet higher as Imelda and Harry stood at the foot of the tree, raising their leathery heads, trying to bite their legs off. “Oh, hell,” Selene said and did the only thing she could think of. Scream.

“Help! James! Help!” she screeched at the top of her lungs.

Soon Etienne joined in, “Help! Papa! Help!”

Please, God, now would be a good time to send me back to nice, safe New York City.

Over and over, Selene and Etienne screamed for help, taking turns until their voices grew hoarse. It seemed like hours, but probably only ten minutes passed before James and Fergus came storming through the trees with rifles raised. Field workers followed close behind carrying rakes and hoes.

“Sacrebleu!” James cursed, holding out his arms for Etienne. The workers pushed the two alligators back toward the nest with their long-handled tools, and Fergus held his rifle in a firing position. Once, the papa alligator bit off the end of Rufus’s hoe and swallowed the metal claw tip with one smooth gulp.

Within seconds of depositing Etienne out of danger, James reached for Selene.

“Jump,” he ordered in an icy voice.

“I…I…ca…can’t,” she stuttered, unable to loosen her grip on the tree branch.

“Merde!” He handed his gun to Fergus and climbed up after her, prying her fingers loose and pulling her roughly after him down the tree. Selene kept her eyes on the two alligators, who were hissing and snapping at Fergus and the slaves, until James picked her up and carried her through the trees to a clearing.

Setting her down near his horse, which was staked along with Fergus’s, he grabbed Etienne and lifted the small boy by both upper arms to eye level. Fergus and the workers looked at them with curiosity as they passed on their way back to the sugar fields.

“This is the worst thing you have ever done. How could you, Etienne? How could you?” His voice reeked with disappointment in his child.

“My name is E.T.,” Etienne said foolishly.

His father shook him. “Listen! You foolish boy, you could have been killed, along with Selene.” James’s voice shook with emotion. Exhaling sharply, he pulled Etienne into his arms for a quick hug, closing his eyes with relief, then he set him back down on the ground and swatted his behind. “Go back to the house and stay in your room until I return. You will be punished, of that you may have no doubt.”

“But—”

“Go! Now!”

“Don’t you hurt him,” Selene intervened, coming up to them on shaky legs. “Don’t you even think of striking that child again. He never intended to hurt me.”

“Good intentions mean nothing if a person dies or is maimed in the process. And I most certainly did not strike the boy. I merely patted his bottom,” he retorted indignantly. “Do not think of interfering in how I discipline my child.”

“If you want to hit someone, hit me,” Selene said defiantly, stepping between him and his son.

James stared at Selene with incredulity. How could she think he would harm Etienne? Exhaling with disgust, he glared at Etienne, who had the good sense to turn and run for the plantation house. Then he told Selene in an icy voice, “Get on my horse.”

“No.”

“No? No? Have a care, lady. I’ve had more than enough of willful children and even more willful women. Get on the damned horse.”

“I can’t,” she admitted, shuffling her feet in the dirt. “I don’t know how to get on a horse.”

“Huh?”