Free Whispers of the Bayou by Mindy Starns Clark Page B

to put it on the market.”
    Astronomical electric bills? The Louisiana Historical Registry? For the first time, I began to wonder if maybe I had been underestimating the size of my inheritance. I knew the house was large, but I had never gotten any real statistics on it, nor did I know how much acreage came with it. Somehow in my mind I had been picturing the ramshackle house from Green Acres reruns, tucked away on a couple of woodsy rural acres along the bayou.
    “The place is…big?”
    Charles just looked at me, a mixture of surprise and something else, something like pity, on his face. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
    “You really don’t know anything about your old family home, do you, Miranda?”
    For some reason, his question made me catch my breath. There it was again, though to a much less degree, that same surprising onslaught of emotion that I had experienced on the airplane when I realized we were getting ready to land. Tears filled my eyes, and with an embarrassed apology, Charles handed me some tissues from the console and then discreetly turned his head toward the window as I dabbed at my face and pulled myself together. I was glad it was just tears this time and not the racing heartbeat and the difficulty breathing I’d had on the plane. Still, I felt like an idiot.
    “Don’t apologize,” I replied softly, my voice hoarse. “The truth is, I know less than nothing. For all of these years I have been at the mercy of my aunt, who wasn’t willing to talk about this place or the people here. If not for Willy’s urgent pleas, I don’t think I ever would have come back.”
    “Not even when it was time to sell?”
    “No. I was just going to let your office handle all of that.”
    “You mean just sell it on your behalf and mail you a check?” he marveled. “Without even coming back to see your family home? That’s so cut-and-dried.”
    I nodded.
    “AJ, uh, my Aunt Janet has always been opposed to my connecting in any way with my…with the people here.”
    “But
why?
I mean, I understand when you were younger. The situation was complicated and very tragic. She did what she thought she had to do. But you’re a grown woman now. I can’t imagine she still expects you to stay away.”
    I swallowed hard, reluctant to tell him about my emotional state as a child or the psychiatrist whose advice had guided AJ’s actions with me ever since. Suddenly, despite all of that, I felt a wave of anger sweeping over me, anger at AJ for keeping me in the dark for so long. Charles was right: She had no right to expect me to stay away forever.
    “So you’ve never had any contact with your relatives here?” Charles prodded. “Ever?”
    I shook my head.
    “My family consists of Tess, my husband, Nathan, and Aunt Janet.That’s been enough for me. Nathan’s parents and brothers and sisters in Texas are all the extra relatives I need.”
    “What about your heritage?”
    “My heritage?”
    “Pardon my saying, but you’re Louisiana born, Miranda, descended from Louisiana gentry on all sides, not to mention a grandmother who was full Cajun. There’s bayou water running through your veins, girl, and jazz music framing out the cadence of your words. I don’t know you that well, but it’s not hard to see that you’ve got the dark eyes and beautiful features of your
mamere,
and I would imagine the intelligence and resourcefulness of she and your
papere.
You might not recognize it, Miranda, but there’s more of you here than you can imagine.”
    He words hung between us, the weight of them palpable to me. I felt a stirring deep inside, the awakening of an ache that had been hibernating for decades.
    “But my Aunt Janet—” I protested weakly. “Out of respect to her—”
    “What about respect for all of the others, for those who have passed, for those who are still alive? You’ve got an uncle here, Miranda, and some cousins, not to mention your other grandmother, your mother’s mother, up in