Page 6

I watched Lisette crouch at the shoreline, coaxing a leopard frog into her palm with the patience of a Buddhist monk.

Hugo made a lasso out of twine and attempts to “capture” the turtle who was doing an admirable job ignoring the overzealous little boy.

I was so absorbed in the moment that I forgot, for a second, why we came here.

“Let’s eat,” I said, waving them over. The kids barreled up the grass bank, skidding to a halt at the edge of the blanket.

Etienne finished laying out the picnic and poured the lemonade. They descended on the food like wolves. Which, technically, they were. For several minutes, the only sound was the rabid devouring of peanut butter sandwiches and arguments about who had more cookie crumbs stuck to their face.

After the food, Lisette laid her head in my lap. She was sleepy after filling her belly, but her eyes stayed clear and curious. “Mommy, do you think if I caught a frog big enough, I could ride it?”

I stroked her hair. “Probably not, unless you can get them to eat more protein.”

She frowned, calculating. “What if you used magic?”

“Magic doesn’t work on frogs,” Hugo said with great authority, licking his fingers clean. “Everyone knows that.”

Etienne, to his credit, almost kept a straight face. “That is why witches are still allowed in the Annual Frog Jumping Festival. They can’t rig the games.”

Lisette accepted this as gospel, then brightened. “Can we go to the festival this year?”

Etienne glanced at me, his eyes asking, is now the time? I nodded, my heart doing gymnastics in my chest.

He put down his lemonade. “Actually, there is something we want to tell you both.”

Hugo immediately tensed. “Is this about last week when we got broke—” He stopped, eyes wide. “Because we didn’t do it. Or if we did, we’ll never do it again.”

“It’s not that,” I assured him, not sure I wanted to know what they had broken. Clearly nothing important if neither Etienne nor I had discovered it yet. “It’s… well, you’re both going to be big siblings. We’re having a baby.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the faint buzz of insects over the water and the gentle plop of the turtle falling off its log. Then Lisette sat up so fast she nearly headbutted me in the chin.

“A baby? Like a real baby?”

“Yes,” Etienne said, reaching for my hand. “A real baby.”

Lisette squealed, then clapped both hands over her mouth. “Can I hold it? Can I dress it in little froggy pajamas?”

I laughed, which makes her laugh, which made Hugo say, “Wait, really?” in a voice that suggests he’s been punked before.

Etienne nodded. “You’ll both be amazing at it. And if you want, you can help us pick the name.”

“Can we name it after a monster?” Hugo’s eyes went starry. “Like Goliath or Dracula?”

I shook my head. “Nice try. But we’ll consider strong names.”

He leaned back, then asked, “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” I said. “It’s too early.”

Hugo frowned as if this is a serious design flaw in the universe. “I hope it’s a boy. That way Lisette doesn’t try to turn it into a princess.”

Lisette stuck out her tongue. “I hope it’s a girl so I can braid its hair. Or if it’s a boy, I’ll braid its hair anyway.”

This devolved into a passionate but ultimately pointless debate about hair accessories, punctuated by Etienne and I trading looks of mutual relief.

I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe drama, or a sulk, or a “we hate this idea forever.” Instead, they were already plotting all the fun things they could do with a younger sibling.

When the cookie supply ran out, we wandered down to the dock and watched the kids dangle their feet in the muddy water. Etienne laced his fingers with mine.

“They took it well,” I said.

“I told you. Children are resilient.” He squeezed my hand. “And they have the best parents in the bayou.”

I rolled my eyes, but secretly I wanted to believe him.

For a while, we just lounged in the sun, watching the water ripple and the Spanish moss shift and the kids plotting their next world takeover now that it would be three kids against two parents. It was perfect.

“Can we play hide and seek?” Lisette suddenly asked.

Etienne raised an eyebrow at me, but I was already up and dusting off my shorts. “Count us in.”

The kids exploded up on the dock, tripping over each other to declare “not it.” Etienne agreeably took the role of official seeker, which meant Hugo, Lisette, and I needed to hide.

Etienne raised a hand to stop us before we could sprint away. “But we have to play by the ancient bayou rules of hide and seek.”

“What’s that?” Hugo asked, looking skeptical.

“No magic, no shifting, and if you end up more than ten yards from the dock, you forfeit dessert at dinner tonight.” Etienne said.

Lisette took my hand and tugged me into the green shade at the bayou’s edge. “We’ll hide together,” she whispered, “because you don’t know all the secret places.”

She was right, and I let her lead anyway.

The air was hot and heavy, draped with the scent of murky water and honeysuckle and something a little wilder, a perfume of wet earth and old cypress.

The weeds at the shore were taller than Lisette, and she vanished into them without a ripple.

I followed, feeling less certain than she was.

“Here,” she said, crouching in a nest of sawgrass and palmetto. “Best spot. You can see the dock, but they can’t see you.”

I settled in, knees in the soft, spongy loam. I peered through the reeds. From here, the world was a haze of sunlight, every leaf glowing a different shade of impossible green. Dragonflies zigzagged past our noses, iridescent and loud, and somewhere a bullfrog rumbled contently.

I heard Etienne counting from the dock, his deep voice bouncing off the water. “Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.” He stretched each number to buy time.

I nudged Lisette. “Maybe we should have made Hugo be seeker? Your daddy will be too good at this.”

She shook her head. “Hugo cheats,” she confided. “But I cheat better.”

I stifled a laugh, which comes out as a snort and shakes the reeds around us. For a moment, I forget to worry about babies or pack politics or even what I creepy crawlies I might be kneeling on. All that matters is hiding, waiting, and maybe winning.

Lisette leaned into my shoulder. “When the baby comes, will it have to play with us?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “But you get to decide if they are on your team or Hugo’s.”

She considered this, then nodded. “Okay. But it has to be born first. Hugo says you can’t play until you’re at least two, because you don’t know any of the rules.”

“Maybe this one will be smart,” I said, and Lisette giggled so hard she nearly falls over.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Etienne’s voice rang out and we fell silent, not wanting to give away our location. I shrunk down smaller.

Lisette tensed, eyes wide as if she was hiding from an orge rather than her own dad.

“He’s close,” she whispered.

I hold still, not daring to even breathe.

I could see Etienne’s silhouette moving between the trees, and for a split second, I was five years old again, hiding from Violet in our mother’s flower garden, My heart thumped so hard I think it’ll give me away.

Funny how that feeling of dread and excitement never really changed.

He passed our spot, and Lisette let out the tiniest of squeaks. I clamped a hand over her mouth, and she dissolved into silent, hiccupping giggles.

We sat in that little cocoon of grass, safe for now, the whole. Insects buzzed. Water dripped somewhere. Moving away from us, Etienne hummed an old Cajun song, low and comforting.

I closed my eyes for a moment and soaked it all in—the heat, the sweat, the perfect hiding spot and the girl by my side who would soon be someone’s big sister. I hope I’ll be enough for her, for all of them.

Something tugged at my sleeve.

“Don’t worry,” Lisette whispered, her mouth still half-covered by my hand. “You’re good at this.”

She meant hiding. But I want to believe she meant everything else, too.

A shadow fell across the reeds. Uh-oh, Etienne was moving closer.

“Found you!” he shouted, popping up from the tall grass, and both of us dissolved into shrieking, gleeful laughter.

But for a split second before he parted the grass, I felt something else. A prickle at the back of my neck. The sense that there was another set of eyes in the weeds with us. Watching, waiting. Something not part of the game at all.

I shook it off. It was just the nervous thrill of the game, making me wary. Still, I glanced over my shoulder as we tumbled out of the grass, just in case.

The dock, the sun, Etienne’s laughter. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

Still, I looked over my shoulder again as we came out of our hiding place.

The novelty of the game was starting to wear off after the fourth round.

Not to mention it was getting harder to find better hiding spots.

So, this time I moved deeper in the weeds, just out of sight of the dock.

I didn’t want to get too far away since it was Lisette’s turn to be the seeker.

But I found a perfect place between the roots of a fallen cypress, where the air was damp and thick with the smell of wet bark.

I crouched low, hugging my knees, and listened. A dragonfly droned by me. Then I heard Lisette call in a sing-song voice, “Huuuu-gooo, I’m coming for you.”

The sun filtered through the trees, green and watery, making my surroundings feel a little surreal.

I waited. Then I heard movement. I imagined Lisette getting closer, her little feet smushing the grass with careful, deliberate steps.

She sounded as if she was circling around me.

Maybe hoping to spring out and give me a start.

The weeds behind me stir, and I freeze in place. This was it, I thought, and steeled myself for the giggling tackle of a small child.

But what grabbed me was not small.