Night Magic (6 page)

"Don't worry about it." Charice said after a
long silence between them.

"Not knowing is worse than anything they
could tell me. I remember overhearing Miss Julie telling Tante
Marie Poppy should have listened to her and put something in the
front yard to protect Mama from Francine. I used to have nightmares
about some witch grabbing my mama and then coming after me."

"Miss Julie always was a little weird. You
don't believe in that voodoo junk and you know it." Charice
said.

"What I believe is that something happened
between them that a lot of people think led to Mama dying
young."

"That's crazy. You said yourself an aneurysm
was the cause of her death."

"But it doesn't matter, don't you see? They
think Francine caused it. Just like Odette blames Poppy for
Francine dying. And why LaShaun grew up hating me. Odette taught
her that. Since we were little kids in nursery school, LaShaun has
never missed an opportunity to pick a fight or try to hurt me. It
all goes back to Mama and Francine, how they died."

"Maybe they didn't get along, maybe it had
something to do with your father, but that was over twenty years
ago. It had nothing to do with your mama's death. It's in the
past."

"Seeing LaShaun after all these years, it was
the same as when we were kids. No, whatever happened is not in the
past for her, or for me."

*****

"You may not meet the standards as a
recycling site, at least not with the equipment and disposal
processes you have now." Paul stopped abruptly, aware that he was
sounding less than objective.This was the third meeting with
Trosclair and Singleton. He had done an extensive review of their
plans even to the point of visiting the site with their
construction people to walk through how and where all facilities
would be placed. Though he knew of his reputation, he had been
surprised at the interest Trosclair had shown in the actual
operation of the plant. The questions he asked showed that he was
not just a member of the idle rich, but possessed a keen intellect.
Trosclair listened carefully to Paul's explanations of his
findings. Even from their first meeting, he and Trosclair seemed to
communicate easily. Paul was impatient with Singleton's clumsy,
obvious attempts to charm him. But Trosclair made no such attempts.
He seemed to be sincerely interested in seeing the plant operators
made every effort to safely deal with the dangerous substances that
would be handled at the site. Grudgingly, Paul had come to respect
him. Even more disturbing, he had begun to feel a growing urge to
tell Claude who he really was. Two things held him back; one was
his promise to his father. Charles had shocked Paul at his violent
reaction to the possibility of any contact with the Trosclair
family. The other was Quentin Trosclair.He was everything his
grandfather and father appeared not to be. Quentin had their looks,
the long thin nose. He was tall and wore expensive clothes well. He
would have had his grandfather's smile were it not for the way his
mouth curled into almost a sneer. Before he opened his mouth, his
expression said he thought a lot of himself. From their first
meeting, he let Paul know in words and actions that he thought of
Paul as little more than a servant.

"I don't see why this delay is necessary,
frankly. I've been looking into it and I don't think we have to
follow the standards for a waste disposal site. With this new
process for making road construction materials, we are a recycling
site, which means the more strict standards don't apply. I say we
go with what we've got. They can't stop us." Quentin, as usual,
didn't even look at Paul or acknowledge his presence.

"You might be able to get by with it, but in
the case of Bayou Processors they eventually paid heavy fines."
Paul said.

"But they are still operating, which sets
precedent. Really, grandfather, do we have to go over this again? I
think it's clear we've got the upper hand. We've gotten the permits
we need, and Mike has assured me--" Quentin waved his hand in
Paul's direction in dismissal.

"Of course, but we also want to be able to
assure the public that we are sensitive to their concerns." Claude
cut off his grandson smoothly, addressing Paul directly.

"He's done his report. And from reading the
conclusions, there is nothing there that would make the DEQ change
the type of permits we need. Especially since most of the research
shows the high feasibility of using slag for road beds and even
house foundations. Even at high temperatures, the chemicals do not
break down and leach into the environment. We don't need anything
else from him." Quentin sat back in his chair.

"This process is new." Paul spoke in a
measured tone, pointedly ignoring Quentin. "Continuing to monitor
the possible long term environmental impact is essential."

"There is no conclusive evidence that our
product is unsafe," Quentin snapped.

"That may be true, but Paul's right," Claude
responded. "We should be cautious. We might even conduct our own
research in this area and anticipate any problems. Your reports
have been very thorough. I have learned quite a bit these last two
weeks." Claude turned to Paul smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Trosclair." Paul gathered up
his papers tucking them into his leather portfolio.

"I hope you will continue to work with Kyle
and Quentin, we'll discuss terms of course."

"But we have our own staff; I still fail to
see why we need him." Quentin leaned forward, speaking in a rapid
undertone. "Grandfather, I think we should discuss this
later--"

"Kyle and I have discussed it, Quentin,"
Claude spoke in a tone that dismissed his objection. He turned to
Paul. "We'll we be in touch."

Paul shook hands with Claude. As Singleton
led him out, he chattered away about discussing the details over
lunch. Paul was nodded but only half listened to him. Looking past
Singleton's ingratiating grin, Paul saw Quentin staring at him, his
face a dark mask of contempt. As he drove away, Paul wondered not
for the first time how they could have developed a kind of sibling
rivalry when Quentin didn't know they were cousins. The enmity that
radiated from Quentin was unmistakable and Paul had to admit, he
did not like him either. Where Claude was gracious, even charming,
in the face of opposition, his grandson was caustic, condescending,
and tactless. Quentin made it easy for others to despise him. Paul
had been in Beau Chene for only two months. Having seen and spoken
to his grandfather only served to deepen his need to know the whole
story. He longed to know the Trosclair family history, now part of
his family history. Without it, he felt incomplete somehow.His
father's side of the family had been gracious in receiving him.
Welcomed to dine with them on several occasions, he found them to
be warm, hard working people. Lively talk, jokes, and singing
filled their homes. But the one time he mentioned his dealings with
the Trosclairs the atmosphere changed suddenly. Joe and George,
cousins of his father's age, shifted nervously before switching to
another subject abruptly. And his only living great-uncle grew
quiet for the rest of the evening. He had not mentioned the
Trosclairs again. He had visited the grave site of his
great-grandparents, even the site on which had once stood the home
his grandmother had spent her childhood. His work might be finished
soon, but he was not ready to leave. Aside from this unfinished
family business, there was another attraction holding him to this
small river town.More and more, he looked for the beautiful woman
whose temper was as hot as Creole gumbo. If he was in town for any
reason, each corner he turned made him conscious of how far he was
from Antoine's shop. The memory of her face, brown eyes flashing as
she tossed her verbal grenades, caused him to smile in spite of her
direct hits on his ego. It bothered him that she saw him as an
enemy. He needed her to know that he was not. In a way he had never
experience before; he cared what she thought of him. There had to
be a way that they could at least be friends. His work might be
finished soon, but he was far from being ready to leave.

*****

The small city hall was jam packed with
people. They spilled out into the hallway. They had come from the
surrounding small towns that would be affected by the plant.
Outside, cameras from a station in Lafayette panned across the
crowd while a few reporters conducted interviews. A sizable crowd
was there representing those who were opposed and those who were in
favor of the new plant. Not a few were holding spirited
arguments.

Savannah and her father made their way slowly
through the crowd. She looked around anxiously as the supporters of
the plant appeared to close in on all sides after spotting
Antoine.A female reporter turned from a man she had been
interviewing in front of a camera and stepped in their path. "Mr.
St. Julien, a prominent local citizen has just arrived for the
hearing. Several officials from the Department of Environmental
Safety will listen to testimony regarding how the people of
Vermillion Parish feel about the new plant that has opened. Mr. St.
Julien, what exactly will you have to say?"

"What I've been saying all along. This is the
last thing we need here. We already surrounded by chemical plants
and such. They still haven't cleaned up the old Stower site. And
down in Morgan City where Singleton put up another one of these
things, they chilren dying of some rare form of leukemia."

"Do you still maintain that this is a form of
environmental racism?"

"Look at where most of the new plants are
being located, near small black communities. They don't think we
can or will fight. But we tired of all this pollution."

"We need jobs. This plant gonna bring almost
one hundred new jobs and construction jobs, too!" A man standing
nearby shouted angrily.

"We don't want to die for no job, man. You
wanna poison your chilren's water for a job? It's time we start
looking at other ways to put our people to work."Antoine answered
to applause and shouts of approval from some in the crowd as
Antoine pushed his way into the city hall. He linked arms with
Savannah so they would not get separated. With help from friends
who had gathered early, Savannah and Antoine were able to find
standing room along the wall near the microphone set up for members
of the public to speak. At the front of the hearing room, three
large tables formed a semi-circle of sorts where the twelve members
of the local police jury sat. Two men wearing white shirts and ties
were seated with them. Savannah glanced around the room and saw
him. She waved a return greeting to a group of their neighbors who
were directly across from where she stood. Paul smiled and nodded.
He spoke briefly to the man seated to his left before heading
toward her. Savannah watched his progress, admiring the way he
moved in spite of herself. He wore khaki slacks, a white shirt and
a navy jacket. The jacket was open, revealing a wine colored
leather belt around his narrow waist. He stood taller than most of
the other men in the room. Several women ogled him as he passed.
When he turned his head to return their greetings, she noticed the
way hair curled ever so slightly over his collar. His dark brown
skin against the white shirt made a striking, and very appealing
contrast.

"Ms. St. Julien. Hello again." He smiled, a
bit tentatively. "Uh, how have you been?"

"Fine. And you?" Savannah shifted from one
foot to another, a little suspicious of this new, low key approach
of his.

"You look very nice today." He admired the
cornflower blue summer dress. The scoop neck was not revealing, but
the gentle rise and fall of her breathing was suggestive of a
hidden bounty. A strong urge to touch the soft mound struck him so
forcefully he blinked. Sure his thoughts could be read on his face,
he pried his gaze away from her. Paul willed himself to tame such
lustful ruminations.

"Thanks." She looked away, embarrassed that
he had caught her staring. "Are you scheduled to testify?"

"Yeah, my report is almost finished. Just
need a few finishing touches, but the work is done." He paused and
stuck his hands in his pockets. Looking back at her, he found she
was still gazing straight ahead at a blank wall. "I don't guess
we'll be here but maybe two hours at most."

"Oh, they limit speakers to about five
minutes each. Except experts. I suppose that includes you." She
looked down at her dress and smoothed wrinkles that weren't
there.

"I'm going for something to eat after, would
you--"

The sound of loud tapping on a microphone cut
him off. Paul tried to finish, but was drowned out. Seeing his
partner beckoning to him impatiently, he started back to his
seat.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" Her answer
was just a smile and nod. "Okay, alright. Sorry, excuse me."He
bumped into several people, not surprising since he was walking
backwards, unable to look away from that smile. That smile was for
him, only for him. Without remembering how he got there, he was
back in his seat.

"Testing. It's working, suh." A city hall
employee passed the microphone to a balding portly man to his
right.

"Thank you, Leland. Evenin' everybody. I'm
Shelby Leblanc, Police Jury president. Most of y'all know me." He
bobbed his head to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, this will be
an informal hearing for public comment on the new facility operated
by Batton Chemical Corporation. We have Jim Garrett and Frank
Mouton from the Department of Environmental Quality. Thank you for
coming. We will have a presentation from Mr. Kyle Singleton,
president of Batton Chemical. But first Mr. Garrett will say a few
words."

"Thank you Mr. Leblanc. The Department of
Environmental Quality, as part of its procedures to issues licenses
to businesses that receive and handle toxic substances take many
factors into consideration. Of course, we consider environmental
impact. We have standards that any proposed facility must meet and
those standards are based on the type of substances the facility
will be dealing with. We also consider the impact on the
surrounding community. We at DEQ are very concerned that you have a
say into any decision that will affect your town, your
neighborhoods. But we must consider economic impact as well. If we
do not, we could very well ignore a very real need for jobs in this
state and a strong economic base of industry." He was interrupted
briefly by scattered applause.