Chapter 2:

Dizzy Izzy

"Gleeps! Can you believe it, Honey?" Trixie cried as the Wheeler's private jet taxied to stop on a small runway outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. "Just three hours ago, we were saying goodbye to Moms and Bobby. Now here we are in the Pelican State!"

Unfastening her seat belt, Honey grinned. "Flying does make a thousand miles seem like a hop-skip-and a jump, doesn't?" she replied.

Mart gave his excited sister and her best friend a nudge toward the cabin door. "If one was to be precise, 1,360 miles, or 2,189 kilometers," he corrected. "But be that as it may, I concur. Air transport is indeed the preferable means of conveyance if one's soul interest is on an expeditious arrival."

Flicking Mart on the back of his buzzed blonde head, Dan remarked to Jim, "Thank goodness we didn't have to listen to that rambling blabber for 2,189 kilometers. "

"Amen to that," the red-headed boy laughed. "The hour and a half drive to Mr. LeBlanc's fishing camp will be long enough. I still can't believe Hallie's grandfather invited us all to come," he added with an amazed shake of his head. "Are you sure we aren't putting him out, Mr. Belden?"

After again thanking their pilot, Mr. Belden assured the young man that Papa's offer was sincere. "Everyone around Bayou Chevrette is in the same boat as the LeBlancs, Jim," he said. "One of Papa's good neighbors needs help filling his tags too. In the swamp, everyone looks out for one another and is considered family. Harry promises they've got plenty of room and work for us all."

As the five teens and their chaperone collected their luggage and started down the airstairs into the bright sunlight, Trixie wished she wasn't wearing her red Bob-White jacket. All of the club memebers had theirs on. They were proud of them. Honey had painstakingly sewn each one and cross-stitched the initials B.W.G. in white on the back. But the outside temperatures had to be in the low nineties, and the roasting girl had never felt such high humidity - why it was almost as if she'd stepped into a sauna!

Pausing on the tarmac, Trixie set down her suitcase and stripped out of her cardinal shell. Underneath, she was wearing one of her new school outfits. After her argument with Jim, the still somewhat miffed young lady had wanted to look her best. Why, she'd even spent an hour trying to get her tangled curls styled just so. Unfortunately, though, Trixie's deep blue jeans and long-sleeved blouse were also too warm for local conditions, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she looked like a melted mess. So much for catching some Cajun Casanova's eye. Or even Jim's, for that matter.

The freckled boy had been ignoring her all morning. As a result, the short flight had been somewhat tense. Trixie told herself it didn't matter. But it did. It was bad enough that Jim had hurt her feelings. But it pained the young lady to think the young man thought so little of her. Especially when in reality, she thought the world of him.

But as Dan stopped beside the miserable girl, she momentarily forgot her worries.

"Holy mackerel," he remarked, removing his red jacket too. "I knew it would be hot, but I never imagined it'd be this muggy."

"Wait until we get closer to the swamp. It's going to be both muggy and buggy." Jim informed the stalled twosome, giving them a shoo out of his way. Mr. Belden was already halfway to the parking lot and motioned for the young people to step it up.

Honey sighed as she struggled with her heavy bag behind the others. She had an aversion to insects and a terrible fear of spiders. "I certainly hope you're wrong," she told her brother. "I'm afraid I forgot to pack bug spray."

"Then let me be the first to offer you some of Moi's," Mart told the young lady as he waited for her to catch up. "With the recent rains and warm temperatures, yours truly came prepared. Louisiana provides the perfect breeding ground for Aedes albopictus – otherwise known as the Asian tiger mosquito. In fact, the state is home to more than sixty-five species of mosquitoes."

Honey shivered, despite the heat. Had she known that little tidbit, she might not have been so quick to board the airplane this morning. "Sounds like Mother Nature intends to use us all as voodoo dolls," she mumbled to the young lady in front of her.

As Trixie let out a giggle, her ever heedful brother offered to help their friend with her suitcase. It was an innocent gesture. Still, Trixie couldn't help but smirk. The last time Mart had attempted to carry Honey's bag, his older brother had beaten him to the mark. Since then, there was an unspoken rule between the two: Brian got first dibs when inviting the pretty girl to parties and such.

Of course, Honey didn't seem to mind. She'd once confessed to Trixie that she found Brian practically perfectly- perfect in every way. But Trixie had to wonder where Mr. Perfect was now.

Honey had tried to get Brian to reconsider and come with them. But the ordinarily persuasive girl hadn't even been able to get the serious-minded senior to put down his medical journal - let alone change his mind. Why, Honey had hardly gotten a "have a swell of a time" out of the distracted boy.

And Trixie had to wince as she recalled the disappointed look on her girlfriend's face. It would have been nice if Brian had at least said he'd miss her friend while she was away. But he hadn't, he'd just gone back to his silly book, and his little sister was beginning to believe she wasn't the only one having boy problems.

It made her wonder if she ought to be hoping the old saying was true, and there were indeed more fish in the sea – or, at least, in Honey's and, in her case, the Bayou. Not that either girl desired to test the waters. But what were they to do if certain unnamed male members of the B.W.G.s were avoiding their hooks? Switch bait? Or perhaps, as Dan had suggested, they try a bottle or two of love potion?

Then Trixie let out a grumble. Love. Yeah right. Who needed it?! Sticking pins in voodoo dolls sounded a whole lot more enjoyable! And Miss Belden was ready for some fun!

Only her enthusiasm was to be short-lived.

Approaching the near-vacant parking lot Mr. Belden and the five Bob-Whites were greeted by a honk coming from a big white commuter van with "Anglers' Landing" stenciled on its side. As a slender middle-aged woman stepped out and proceeded to slide open the passenger compartment door, Hallie Belden jumped from inside.

"Howdy, Swampers!" the tall girl called, waving the newcomers over. "Lovin' this Atchafalaya weather yet? Hope all y'all are ready to burn a few blisters?"

The drippy greeting caused Trixie to grimace. Her smiling cousin, who was seemingly cool as a cucumber in her cutoffs, crop top, and flip-flops, was already bringing admiring looks from not only Dan but also from Jim. And if that wasn't upsetting enough to turn her sweltering kin's stomach, then Hallie's overtly friendly drawl and instant familiarity with the two boys certainly was. Why, the nervy girl was almost flirting with the young men as they stowed their bags in the back of the van. The gall of her joking with them as she tossed her long black hair this way and that! It was nothing short of embarrassing.

But as Trixie's father noticed the surly look on his daughter's face, he shook his head, forcing her to take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Family meant everything not only to Daddy but also to Jim. So Trixie would have to be careful to keep her emotions in check.

The last thing the fretting girl needed was to kick up a stink. Jim was already unhappy enough with her as it was. No doubt the currently spellbound young man would only rise to Hallie's defense, anyway. And who knew where that might lead?!

So with a shiver, Trixie decided to elbow in between the red-headed young man and her cover-girl cousin. Sliding her suitcase into the vehicle next to the others, she said, "Hi, Hallie. Long time no see. I thought you'd be out alligator hunting today?"

As Mart pushed the pair of girls to one side, making room for Honey's and his luggage too, Hallie noted that she wouldn't be going out on the boat with her grandfather until Tuesday. She'd be showing Trixie and Honey the ropes around camp for the next couple of days.

"I really wanna thank you for flying to my rescue, Cuz," she went on to say. "Mom didn't think Auntie was going to let you come. But I told Papa you wouldn't let us down. He's really grateful too. You're gonna like Papa a whole lot, Cuz. He's a real character."

Feeling somewhat ashamed, Trixie dropped her head and stared at Hallie's glittery blue toenail polish. All this time, she'd been selfishly focused on her own misery, blaming her cousin for woes when she should have been thinking about the poor LeBlanc family.

"I can't wait to meet him," the humbled young lady mumbled.

"Meet who?" Honey asked, joining the two girls.

"Papa," Hallie returned. "But dagnabbit, you haven't even made Mom's acquaintance yet, have you, Honey?"

As Honey shook her head, "no," Hallie rallied the B.W.G. Cavalry and led them over to where her mother was conversing with Mr. Belden.

"Mom," she butted in, without giving any thought to it, "time you got to know the barrel of monkeys." Grabbing Jim's freckled arm, the unbashful girl brought him to the forefront. "This red-headed baboon is Jim Frayne," she began as Jim held out his hand in greeting. "The sweeter smelling simian behind him is his sister Honey Wheeler. And that grinning ape next to Cuz is none other than Dan Mangan," Hallie finished giving the young man a point.

Mr. Belden smirked. He was secretly proud that his children had better manners than to interrupt an adult conversation. But his sister-in-law seemed oblivious to the slight. In fact, Aunt Renee - as she insisted everyone call her- was sometimes known to be a bit intrusive too.

"So nice to finally be able to put faces with the names," she told the Bob-Whites in a western drawl, not unlike her daughter's. "Although I must confess I almost didn't recognize my own niece and nephew. Mart, you've gotten as stocky as a linebacker. And Trixie, you're the spitting image of your mother. Why, I bet she's turned you into the perfect little homemaker, now hasn't she?"

Trixie was unsure how to respond. She suspected Aunt Renee's comment was meant as a jab at Moms. Hallie's mother wasn't the domestic type. She was a career-oriented woman with advanced degrees in mining metallurgy and geology. Back in Idaho, the family had a live-in housekeeper.

Hallie's mother and father had met while serving in the Peace Corp, and both were extremely well-traveled and educated. Aunt Renee, dressed in a maxi tie-dye skirt and tank top, with her long brown hair in a single braid down the middle of her back, looked like she'd just stepped out of the nineteen-sixties rock concert. Still, she had an air of intelligence about her. Maybe it was the sharpness in her light brown eyes or the pair of heavy glasses she wore over them. But either way, even at first glance, you could tell Hallie's mother was intelligent.

But being well-schooled and worldly didn't mean Aunt Renee possessed the more feminine social graces that Moms did. And thankfully, a somewhat irked Daddy came to his stammering daughter's rescue. "I think you'll find both Trixie and Honey are not only whizzes at cleaning but in the kitchen, as well," he told her dryly. Then, smiling at the pair of girls, he ushered them into the van. Mr. Belden hoped he wouldn't need to remind his sister-in-law that the two girls, though eager to help, weren't her servants.

"Shall we be going?" he asked Renee.

"Gleeps," Trixie sighed as the van traveled alongside a seemingly endless stretch of flooded green countryside. "I've always pictured Louisiana as a big swamp, filled with cypress trees dangling Spanish moss, Aunt Renee. I never knew it had this much open farmland?"

The Idaho woman let out a laugh. "What you're seeing is one of many sugarcane plantations," she explained, putting down her visor to block the glaring sun. "But don't worry, Trixie. As we get closer to camp, the topography will begin to change. Before you know it, you'll feel as if you've been transported to a lost Paleozoic world."

The confused girl didn't want to admit it, but she already felt somewhat lost. Picking up on her muddle, her crew-cut-headed brother came to his sister's rescue – if you could call it a rescue.

"Dear, dear Aunt Renee," he said with a superior smirk. "You know not whom you are addressing." Turning around in his seat, Mart then proceeded to explain to Trixie that the Paleozoic Era occurred roughly 542 million years ago. "'Topography'," he went on arrogantly, "refers to the landscape's natural features, Pea Brain. It may also behoove you to know that Sugar Cane is Louisiana's top economic driver. It is actually a grass, and a farmer can get three or four crops from one planting of cane." The middle Belden boy hoped to be a farmer one day and had read up on the subject before their trip.

Only Trixie, who wasn't in the mood for an agricultural lesson, grimaced. "So Papa's camp is located in the swamp?" she asked her aunt, ignoring Mr. Know-it-all.

"It actually sits on the banks of the Bayou," Hallie chipped in. "But there are swamps and all around it, Cuz."

Dan, who was sitting beside the dark-haired girl, lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't they the same?" he asked.

This time it was Jim who replied. "Not really, Dan. A bayou is a slow-moving stream, whereas a swamp is more of a flooded wetland. Southern Louisiana is full of lakes and rivers, too, I hear."

Then, as the lumbering vehicle took a rocking turn off the main highway, Trixie overheard Hallie's mother say to Daddy, "It's really is a shame Helen couldn't have joined us, Peter. I'm sure she could have used a vacation from all that drudgery around the farm. But I suppose leaving your toddler with a sitter would have been out of the question?"

Giggling, Trixie then grinned as Honey cast the humored girl a questioning glance. It wasn't exactly like six-year-old Bobby was a toddler. Or that Moms desired a break. There wasn't any place her mother loved being more than Crabapple Farm.

"Moms and Aunt Renee don't exactly get along," she explained, whispering in Honey's ear. "They don't see eye-to-eye, especially when it comes to parenting. My Aunt says that she and Uncle Harold don't believe in 'limiting their children's experiences'. And that means they pretty much let them run wild, according to Moms. I get the impression that Hallie's mom thinks mine is a doting mother hen. And Moms is convinced Aunt Renee is an unfit parent. But they pretend to like each other for Daddy and Uncle Harold's sake."

"Oh my goodness," Honey gasped, barely audibly. "But Hallie and her brothers seem so well adjusted, Trixie? Especially Knut?"

"I think that has a lot to do with their maid, Ollie," Trixie returned under her breath. "She's the Miss Trask of their family, Honey."

Miss Trask was the efficient middle-aged woman who ran Manor House for the Wheelers with the help of Bill Reagan. Miss Trask had been Honey's favorite teacher at boarding school before becoming her governess. The pretty girl was closer to her than she was to her mother.

"Oh, I see," Honey whispered. "But Hallie thinks the world of her mother, Trixie?"

"I know," her friend admitted. "And Brian says Aunt Renee and Moms are both good mothers, really. It's just that they have different lifestyles. I guess nobody on Earth gets along with everybody, Honey."

On the outskirts of Saint Estelle, the last small town the Bob-Whites would be passing through on their way to Anglers' Landing, Aunt Renee noted that the van was getting low on gas, and she'd need to make a stop to fill up.

Trixie, anxious to reach camp, couldn't help but groan. The landscape, as Hallie's mother had said, had dramatically changed over the course of the last few miles. All around the agog girl were towering oaks heavily bearded with silvery gray moss with tropical-looking plant life at their feet. It was easy for her to picture dinosaurs roaming through the marshy ooze. And as a Great Blue Heron took flight from one of the trees, it reminded Trixie of a pterodactyl, and she shivered. But it was with excitement. This was alligator country! And the impatient girl was just itching to get out of the car and explore.

But as Aunt Renee slowed and flipped on the van's turn signal, preparing to take a right into a weather-ravaged service station, Trixie noticed an odd older woman standing on a mound of sandbags along the curb. The portly lady, who'd tucked her plaid camp shirt into a pair of pull-on denims, was clearly giving their vehicle the evil eye, and the observant teen had to wonder why.

"Hey, Sis," Mart teased, twisting around. "Check out Grandma over there. In fifty years, that'll be you! " Trixie's irritating middle brother was indicating the mysterious woman. Her steel-grey mop was going every which way and looked mighty similar to his sister's when she was having a bad hair day.

As Jim and the others snickered, Trixie winced and gave the back of Mart's seat a good firm kick. She was about to tell her obnoxious twin to "can it", when the strange woman leaped from the curb onto the hood of their rolling van!

As the crazy lady clung to a windshield wiper with one hand, she beat on the windshield with the ball of her other. "No, no, NO!" the wild woman shrieked. "The insurance company shut you down, Ms. Belden! A curse be on Lucas LeBlanc! The storm be just a warning, my dear! You tell your pa he's angered the spirits!"

As Hallie's mother slammed on the brakes, the hysterical woman slid to the pavement, and Honey let out a cry!

But Hallie only snorted. "Meet Great Aunt Isabella," she told the startled teens dryly. "Papa calls her Dizzy Izzy. He says she's the wicked witch of the Bayou and oughta be committed."

"Hush now, Hallie," her mother scolded, putting the van in park and turning on its hazard lights. "There are people around town who say the same thing about your papa."

As Aunt Renee and Daddy hurried from the vehicle to see if Miss Izzy was OK, they told the young people to stay put.

Only their deep concern proved for naught. The belligerent woman, who appeared no worse for wear, was already on her feet, waving a crooked finger in her niece's less-than-humored face.

"Aunt Izzy, will you please calm down?" Trixie heard Aunt Renee beg as the teenagers watched on. "This is Peter, my husband's brother. He, his children, and their friends are not here as customers of the camp. They've only come to help Pa fill his tags."

But the leather-faced woman replied by spitting at her niece's feet. "That brother of mine is full of the devil!" she warned, her gold-capped tooth glistening in the sun. "You tell Lucas if he even tries to fill those five hundred tags, the Rougarou is gonna get him!"