She looked up, into Melette’s eyes. Johnny twisted around to see what she was looking at behind him, to see Melette’s pale, drawn, features. The little blonde dropped to her knees to hug Johnny around the waist, and press her face against his back.
“She right, li’l Jean,” she murmured, “Ever’ time I need you, you be there for me, you make me an’ Odie you baby-girls, you care for us, keep us safe, teach us whut we need to know, an’ we ain’t never thought you nothin’ but the best big brother in the world; I guess I know how you feeling right now, I feelin’ it too, but you know what? Fact you feel like that mean you still Li’l Jean, same big brother who teach me swamp fishin’ and ‘gator hookin’, an’ tell me stories, an’ sing ole songs from the Isle and La Belle France with his ole Bon-Tee, an’ stan’ in front o’ me when maw-maw mad an’ lookin’ to hand out a lickin’, who take it for me an’ never say a word ’bout it or go lookin’ for evens after; Justy right about you, Li’l Jean; you born to protect people like me, people who mebbe need more than whut they got. The world a better place wi’ people like you in it, so I tell you what; you forgive whut I done, an’ I forgive you, an’ we both let this go an’ move on.”
Melette patted his chest, just over his heart, and hugged him even tighter, and when she spoke again, her whole speech pattern had changed, slow and slurred, almost a patois, as she reached back into her and Johnny’s childhoods.
“When I was tryna pass English class so’s I could graduate, Miz Boudreau tole me I need learn how writers from other places think, not jes’ Hawthorne an’ Poe an’ Twain an’ such, there more to the world than them, so she give books from other writers, people ain’t never heard of, tell me read an’ learn; coupla French writers, even one o’ them English writers, name o’ George Orwell, an’ one thing he wrote stuck in my mind ‘bove all else: ‘Good men sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.’ I forget why he wrote it like that, seem like he makin’ a point ’bout allus bein’ world out there mos’ folks know nuthin’ ’bout, but I allus took that to mean people like me be easy an’ safe only because there people like you on-guard an’ ready to protec’ us.”
She paused, and patted his chest comfortingly.
“I don’ think you rough man, li’l Jean, but I do know you good man, best I know, an’ I thank the good Lord you who you are. You born to be a protector, li’l Jean, even if it feel like your heart breakin’ sometimes, an’ now finally I kinda know how much it hurt you inside when you do what you gotta do. But still you do it allasame, because it needful, ’cause that who you are, an’ we grateful for that. To thine own self be true, Li’l Jean, sump’n else I read somewhere, an’ it true, ’cause you cain’t be nuthin’ else. Think on ‘t.”
Johnny sat in silence, his eyes still distant and clouded, but then his quick smile flitted across his face as he patted Melette’s hands still clasped around his chest.
“Thank you, baby-girl…” he whispered. Melette gently butted him between his shoulder-blades with her forehead.
“Don’ need to go thankin’ me, Li’l Jean, it all true. An’ now I think you an’ Justy got some time comin’, so I think me ‘n’ Odie go take us a scout-aroun’ an’ give you two some privacy; don’ you-all worry about takin’ a turn tonight, me ‘n’ Odie got that covered, I know you-all got stuff to say an’ do, cher grande frere, bes’ get to it, y’all hear me now?”
Melette stood and brushed-down her trail-pants, smiling at Justine and patting Johnny just once on his shoulder before heading back to the boat to join her sister. Justine looked long at Johnny, silent but not disapproving, not judging him, just waiting for him to say something that clued her into what he was thinking. Johnny’s eyes finally lost that dim, distant look as he focused on her, on her worried expression and wide, compassionate eyes.
“You not tellin’ me whut I need to hear, right, Minou? You bein’ truthful in whut you say, Justy? Don’ lie to me to save my feelin’s none, that worse thing of all, baby, please don’ be doin’ that!” he whispered. Justine slid up against him, grinning when his arm slipped around her waist, so she slid astride him and held him close.
“I will never lie to you, Johnny Bear, you’re my big, horny, Johnny-Bear, the only thing I have in this life worth having, so believe me when I say this: nothing’s changed; you did what was needful, because you can’t stand by and see wrongdoing go unpunished. Think of it this way, baby: the law was written by men, it’s a made-up thing, and it has to be rigid, and follow rules that sometimes make no sense, and so sometimes the guilty go free, because all men are supposed to be equal before the law; I heard someone once say better nine guilty men go free than one innocent man suffer, and there’s times when that’s unfair, and unjust, and it sucks, that sometimes someone we all know is guilty as sin gets off scot-free because of a damned technicality, but that’s how it has to be; all men have to be treated equally before the law, otherwise it’s the lynch-mob, the hemp rope, and the cottonwood tree.”
Justine pushed his head up so she was looking directly into his eyes.
“What’s right and needful, though, Johnny, that’s entirely different. Sometimes men must do what the law says is wrong because they have to do what they know is right. In the court of your heart there’s no jury, no ‘twelve good men, and true’ to make your decision for you and share your blame, only you, and so you do what you do because your heart says it’s right, and you accept the consequences. You, and others like you, will always do the right thing, because you can’t do anything else, you were made that way, and that’s why I love you.”
Justine grinned, wriggling on his lap, feeling him stirring under her.
“Now take me back to that big soft bed in that boat and let me take away the bad feelings; you’ve got to admit, Big Bear, I’m kinda good at that!”
Johnny grinned at her suggestion, his eyes once more bright, clear and gray, no lingering sign of the doubt and self-loathing that had dwelt there all the long day.
“Damn, girl, you ain’t wrong ’bout that, that for sure! What you-all wanna do, Minou?”
Justine licked her lips and smiled naughtily.
“We-ell, now that you mention, I do have kind of an itch in several places, why don’t you see if you can scratch them all, seeing as you’re such a big ole stud, and all that…!”
Johnny beamed back.
“I thought you’d never ask, baby-girl, guess we better take last watch, looks like we gonna be busy fo’ while!”
Justine led him back to the cruiser, the roll and quiver of her tight little bubble-butt exciting him as he watched her walk. Clambering onto the craft she disappeared down through the narrow steps leading to the forward ‘stateroom’, actually, the empty space under the foredeck, just large enough to be fitted with a small bed, with a sealed porthole in the ‘ceiling’ to give natural light in the small space. Johnny glanced over at Melette setting up her bedroll for the night near the fire. Odelie was just barely visible, partially concealed in the undergrowth as she was, taking first watch. Melette looked up and saw him, and Johnny saw her wink, smile, and the shooing gesture she made, so he grinned and followed Justine down the short step-way and into the small cabin.
In just the short time he’d paused on deck she’d already stripped down to just panties and a cut-off white singlet, and was posing artfully on the barely adequate bed.
“This what you mean when you say you got a itch fo’ me to scratch, Kitty-cat? I sure hope it do, li’l gal, I reckon I’m in a scratchin’ kinda mood!”
Justine grinned at his ridiculous accent and stretched languidly, staring pointedly at the bulge in his pants.
“Come here, Johnny-Bear, take me to see the elephant!”
Johnny smiled slowly, whipping off his T-shirt and unlacing his belt. Justine slid over and grabbed the waistband of his jeans.
“Mine, I think…” she murmured, popping open his waistband and sliding his zipper down. Johnny drew in a sharp breath as her hand brushed his urgent, straining erection.
“Much better,” she grinned, her lip caught between her teeth coquettishly, “nice to see you haven’t forgotten anything I taught you, Swamp-Thing!”
Johnny went to slide down his shorts, but Justine batted his hands away.
“Uh-uh-uh, no! Mine! Just you stand there, Jean-Bastienne Deaucette, let me take care of this!”
Johnny’s solid erection sprang out as she whipped his shorts down, and she smirked at his groan as she took hold of it.