Louisiana Cajun Girl

By Donna Hankins

The wet lands of Louisiana hold many secrets. In this spiritual, paranormal, romance, a young Cajun girl, Marcie, a tomboy raised by her parents on the edge of the swamps, is about to learn some lessons of life from the other side. Several months after the unexpected death of her dad, Marcie starts having ghostly visitations directing her to the middle of the Spring Bayou area among the snakes and alligators to find direction in her life from none other than a recluse that the people of the town call the Swamp Man.

Through many trials and tribulation in the bayous and rivers with her childhood friends, this adventure brings Marcie face-to-face with death. Watch Marcie’s struggle with her mind, will, and emotions while she learns lessons from the heart from the Swamp Man and watch her grow and learn the true meaning of life – love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504351737

Donna Hankins

Donna was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana. She graduated high school in 1974 and went on to get married, raise a family, and travel. In 1993 she relocated back to central Louisiana, where she settled with her three children, went back to school, and eventually started working for the state of Louisiana. Around the time of the death of her sister in 2010, her world expanded spiritually to show a new dimension of reality that launched her on a new path of growth and learning. She recently retired from the Department of Corrections after twenty-two years and has started her new career as a fiction writer.

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Copyright © 2016 Donna Hankins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-5043-5172-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5174-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5173-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902575

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/21/2016

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Afterword

DEDICATION

He determines the numbers of the stars and calls them each by name.

—Psalm 147:4

I consider every person and animal that has touched my life in some way a Star. These Stars came into my life shining brightly. They touched my heart and left me with special memories. When these Stars left, they brought my heart with them to the other side. I dedicate this book to you, especially my sister, Renee.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

U nless I had known my true calling in this world, this book might not have been written when it was. So first, I owe all the heavenly help and Kim O’Neill (Psychic Channel author and speaker) heartfelt thanks for opening my eyes to the knowledge of this calling.

I would like to thank my dear friend and her teenage daughter for volunteering their time and energy for their editing services. Also, my thanks to a good friend who was forever a point of contact in bringing chapter after chapter back and forth from one point to another. He happily made time for me and my new writing venture.

Thanks to several friends who read this manuscript and gave me tidbits of advice, and for the friends and family who have stood behind me, supported my writing venture, and been just as excited as I am at the completion of my first but not last book.

CHAPTER

1

T he afternoon was sunny as I sat under my favorite willow tree next to Old River in the Spring Bayou Wildlife Management Area, a hop, skip, and a jump from the boat dock and only a half mile from my house. A slight breeze kept my tousled dirty-blonde hair continuously flying in my face, and as I ran my hand through it, my mind was racing about the upcoming event.

Being born in the South had its advantages. What advantages, I didn’t know, but I was sure that one day I’d figure it out. In Louisiana, humidity could be so bad that the hair closest to your neck stuck and drops of water beaded up on your forehead like you had hives. Mosquitoes were swollen with the blood of unsuspecting victims, flying close to your ear and feeding in places on your body that you didn’t even know existed until you felt the burn of their bite. There were creepy-crawly things, unusual sounds, and let’s not forget the larger animals in the surrounding area that you better be prepared to shoot if you had to. Yep, this part of Louisiana wasn’t for the weak of heart. You had to be brought up here to know its ways. If not, you didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.

I grew up on the outskirts of the small town of Marksville. Lots of people called this Cajun country, where snakes and alligators were an everyday sight to most people. This was a hunting and fishing community, and most meals came straight from the woods and the bayous to the plate. A little hot sauce on everything, a cold beer, and you were in hog heaven. A side order of hot boudin and cracklin’s so good you wanted to slap your mama could bring a smile to even the grumpiest of eaters.

The women of the area were notoriously tough. You crossed a Cajun woman, and you had major trouble. They’d run you over with a tractor when you weren’t looking.

Tough came in all sizes, and I was about five foot four. I was no beauty, but I did win a baby contest for having the cutest curls for a four-year-old. I was thankful my dirty-blonde curls had loosened into long waves and the constant sun had given me bright highlights cascading down my back. Daddy always said my big brown eyes were my biggest asset. Like I said, I was no raving beauty—but hell, who needed to be a beauty in the swamps of Louisiana when you could hunt right alongside any guy in the community? For me, wearing a dress and heels was like lying on a bed of nails.

Mom liked to say I needed to grow up and act like a lady. Shee, I wasn’t no lady, and I didn’t plan on ever being one. I was young, energetic, and happy. Just because I was twenty-three years old didn’t mean I needed to change. I had my whole life ahead of me. I was free to come and go as I pleased. The world was mine for the taking. Enjoy life was my motto, and that meant kicking back with the guys, drinking a beer or two.

Why did I need to change? Seemed to me everyone else needed to get a life and leave me the hell alone. I was grown up enough to know what I wanted, and it didn’t come in a white house with a picket fence and a bunch of kids running around. Just thinking like this made me nauseated.

Marcie, what the heck you doing out here? asked a familiar voice.

I turned and smiled. I’m just taking in the scenery, Bill. Have a seat. I patted the ground next to me.

You ready for tonight? asked Bill.

Well, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Who all is coming?

Just the gang; Frank and T Boy will meet us about eight o’clock.

That sounds great. It was a good feeling to be accepted as one of the boys. They didn’t think twice about including me in the hunt. I think it’s gonna be a good night for frogging. Moon’s full, and I got my new rubber boots to try out.

You didn’t go buy those pink ones at the Dollar Store? Bill asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Hell no; you know I don’t go in for no pink shit. If I ain’t wearing black, I ain’t wearing nuttin’.

Damn, Marcie, don’t talk like that, Bill said with his head tilted and his eyebrow raised. You know you’re the cutest girl in town.

"And you need to get some glasses. You know damn well I ain’t no girl.

As we laughed, Bill said, I know; I’m just yanking your chain.

Bill was the only boy I ever let kiss me. It happened when we were about ten years old, out behind the barn. We agreed then and there we would never do that again, and we shook on it. Yuck.

We’re still friends, right?

Of course we are, Bill. We’ll always be friends.

Bill stood about five foot eleven with sky-blue eyes and brown hair. He definitely turned some heads in town. Bill had been by my side since I could walk. Our house was welcome to most of the guys who grew up around here. Where most dads worked outside the house, my dad always seemed to have time to teach us the ways of the swamp. Yep, my dad taught us all the best things in life: hunting and fishing.

All right, then; I’ll meet y’all by the dock at eight o’clock sharp, and Bill, don’t forget your knife this time.

Well, girly, don’t you forget those pretty pink boots. Bill laughed. He got up, knocked the dirt off the back of his pants, and walked back toward his truck.

I sat a while longer and then started back to the house on the old dirt road. I wondered who the hell had been mud riding out here, leaving so many ruts you could lose a family of hogs in them. I made my way back, straddling all the ruts.

Mom, I’m back, I shouted when I walked in the door.

Marcie, sweetie, where you been? You shouldn’t be out in that heat. Your face is so red.

Aw, Ma, I’m okay. Besides, there’s a nice breeze blowing today.

Well, get yourself cleaned up; supper will be on the table before you know it.

As I washed my hands in the kitchen sink, I could smell an array of savory dishes. It smelled like stewed chicken with lots of onions and a big pot of rice. Mmm, is that apple pie? Shit, my mom can sure cook.

"Please set the table, sweetie, while I take the pie out to cool."

Okay. I paused. Hey, Mom? Me and the boys are going frogging tonight at Spring Bayou.

Marcie, I swear someone must have switched you at birth. I could have sworn I had a girl. I blame your dad for this, God rest his soul.

Mom continued to mumble under her breath about Daddy. Daddy taught me everything I know. He would say, Marcie girl, you need to stand on your own two feet, ’cause ain’t no one gonna take care of you but yourself. I’m gonna teach you to take care of yourself. You ain’t no welfare case. We may not have much money, but you can live off the land and be happy. Be careful who you trust, and never give your heart to no man. They will just squish it under their foot and feed it to the pigs.

I had to wipe the tear coming from my eye before my mom saw. She already cried enough for the both of us. Daddy would never approve of me wimping out like this.

My God, I never knew a hurt like this. It was like my heart had been stabbed through and through with one of T Boy’s hunting knives. There was such a feeling of loss in my life since my dad died.

It was a freak accident. We were hammering down some loose shingles on the roof when he lost his balance and fell headfirst into the front flower bed. We were preparing for the winter rains. It happened so fast. We were just cutting up with each other, like we always did. He had me laughing so hard, I snorted. This made us both laugh harder. When he lost his footing, I reached out to grab him, but it was too late. The look on his face was something I’ll never forget. I’d never seen fear in my dad’s face until that day. It was six months later now, and I swore I could still smell his cologne sometimes.

I loved sitting on the front porch in his favorite rocking chair, passing my hands across the old, worn-out paint of the chair’s arms, knowing he sat there every evening for many years after supper, watching the sun go down behind the trees. Oh, my God, I missed him.

Marcie? Marcie? Mom repeated.

Huh? Did you say something, Ma?

Where were you? she asked.

Not to worry. I’m just thinking if I have everything for the hunt tonight.

Please be careful tonight, Marcie girl.

I’d been called Marcie girl so long that when I started school, I thought my first name was Marcie and my last name was Girl. Mom worries way too much. She knows I’ve been frogging since I was in diapers. Every boy within a mile has been here, helping Dad with the crops and hunting and fishing with us.

Shee, this is a place where everyone knows everyone. You can’t sneeze at your house and expect your next door neighbor a half mile down the road not to already know all about it.

Supper was over, dishes were washed, and I was headed out the door with my new boots. I had to smile as I remembered Bill’s words earlier. Pink boots? What the hell was he thinking?

Bill and I had been close friends since childhood. Actually, he’d grown up into one of the most eligible bachelors in town. He had started a small business out of his home. He loved cars, so fixing and painting cars was less a job to him than a way of life. He was very good at it too. As far as men went, I guessed he was okay.

I started my walk to the dock. It looked like someone had come by already and graded the dirt road. It looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

As I approached the dock, I could see movement by the boat. Hey, everyone, we ready to push off?

We’re just waiting on T Boy, Bill said.

We all knew that T Boy had the furthest to come to go frogging. He and his parents lived way past where the road ended. We all considered him and his family pure swamp people. We always teased him, saying he