Chapter One: Tadpole Season

Lucie looked out the window at the sun fading to the West over the mangroves of the nearest swamp island.

She was doing dishes at the wash table after dinner, with an oil lamp lighting her work. As the warm water ran over her fingers and the sponge, her determined scrubbing was accompanied by thoughts of the coming Autumn in Chokoloskee. The fire in the small pot-bellied wood stove Lucie cooked and heated dishwater on was fading with the Sun, as early Autumn in Florida was still rather warm, and wood for a fire wasn't the easiest to come by on what amounted to a small island in the Everglades.

Little Will was sitting in his high chair, playing with a blue crab shell. He'd developed dark reddish-brown hair and pale green eyes over the past year. His gaze was intent on his toy, and force of will wasn't exactly one of his shortcomings. He was a good child, and smart, but also determined when he wanted to do something. That was maybe why she called him "Will" for short, instead of by his given name, "Willie."

Will had taken his first steps a week prior, and had already learned a couple of words. Lucie was pretty sure he'd be running about the place very soon, and that she would be hard-pressed to keep up with him.

Lucie was thinking about the life he would have in Chokoloskee, and realized that she would need to help him with schooling. There was a bit of a school on the island, but it wasn't regular all through the week. 

Lucie only had a few books in the small tin-roofed shack she was fortunate to be in. She knew she would need to start gathering children's books soon if she was to have them ready by the time Will was going to need them, and she planned to start reading to him as soon as he had more words. 

Will knew about four words now, including "Mama," (Her favorite of course) "water," "dinner," and interestingly, "lightee bug." Strangely, fireflies (which she called "lightning bugs") tended to wander into the shack near Will's crib when they were in season. He appeared to love them, and it was a little magical how they seemed to find him in Summer.

Life on the island might be very basic, but it would be safe here from the devil she used to know. There would also be plenty of chores for a young boy, and learning all the skills that a young man would need to know. Still, it would be a wonderful life for a young boy. The island was a wonderland of nature and sea. Swimming, boating, fishing, crabbing, and salt air were in the bones of the place. 

Lucie had the windows opened on both sides of the shack to let a cool evening breeze cross through, and she could just make out the sail of a small boat back-lit by the setting sun to the West. The crickets and frogs were singing their evening song, and the occasional bird call was still to be heard. 

Lucie started singing a little song as she worked, and Will looked up from his crab shell to listen. 

"Good evening mister Cricket, 

Good night mister Frog, 

Please don't eat mister Lightning Bug, 

As he flies past your log. 

Let the gators swim, 

And the crabs all crawl, 

You and the crawdads look up at it all. 

The stars will shine, 

And lightning bugs glow, 

And soon mister Will O. Wisp you all will know. 

He'll walk with the lightning bugs, 

And soon mister Will O. Wisp,

You all will know." 

Lucie made up little ditties as she worked all the time, and her voice was pretty like sea foam and pearls, easy on the ears. This one was one of her favorites lately though. She thought she would keep it as a lullaby for her son. He seemed to like it, and she could swear there was a smile on his face.

Lucie finished with the dishes, and took the slop pan out to dump by the little chicken coop she had cobbled together with some help from Hachi Wise Leaf. Hachi was a young Seminole woman near Lucie's age that also lived on the island with her husband and son.

Hachi was the only friend Lucie had made so far on the island. She was of a kind but determined temperament, with a laugh that was surprisingly strong, yet musical, if you were lucky enough to hear it. 

Hachi was a lot like the meaning of her name, "Wise Leaf," which is where her surname came from.  She knew a lot about the plants, animals, and weather on the island, and she had bore a son to her husband the year before Will was born. Hachi's son was named Holata, which meant "Alligator" in English. Hachi had named him that because he "ate like a 'gator" from the time he was a baby.

One of the other things Lucie loved about Hachi was how well she could tell so many wonderful stories and legends of the Seminole people. Her voice was animated, and she was a wonder at bringing the legendary characters to life. Hachi was a gifted storyteller, if you were smart enough to listen.

Lucie particularly loved Hachi's story of the "Firefly Dancers," which went something like this:

"When the Seminole people first came to Florida's Everglades from everywhere up North, they were new to the country. They didn't know the plants and the animals and the birds and the fish that lived here. They had to learn all of these creatures anew.

The mosquito they knew, but little did they know that they were entering the true kingdom of the mosquitoes, where they were the rulers of Summer.

They met Alligator, and he was hungry and sneaky, with a poor temper. They met Panther, who was like Alligator, but not so happy to get his feet wet. 

They met Heron and Egret anew, finding where they had moved for Winter. In the North, these were birds of Spring and Summer.

They met many new fish, and crabs, and of course Turtle.

They also saw Firefly, who was the beautiful light of Summer, and loved his star-dancing anew.

Yet the strangest people they found were the Firefly People. 

The Firefly People will not talk to a Man, Woman, or child. They hide when the Seminole comes near, and hide faster when the White Man comes, who is very noisy.

The Seminole have only seen the Firefly People from a distance, at night. What is seen first is a great cloud of fireflies, like stars swirling in a spiral. The Seminole is of course curious at this, for this is not the way most fireflies dance in the night skies. 

When the Seminoles went to see what the Firefly powwow was all about, they saw strange dark people dancing atop the mangroves, underneath the great firefly spiral. When the Seminoles called to the Firefly People and asked if they could visit their dance, the Firefly People disappeared down into the mangroves below, and the fireflies in the sky above dispersed their lights all over the swamp. The Seminoles looked on the island, but it is hard to move in and through the mangroves, and the Firefly People could not be found.

When the Seminoles who saw this came home to camp and told their friends, everyone laughed and didn't believe them. Then a few years later, another group of Seminoles came back from fishing saying that they, too, had seen the Firefly People dancing under a great swirl of fireflies, but that they disappeared when called out to.

To this day, the Seminole People will every once in awhile see the fireflies swirl, and the Firefly People dancing atop the mangroves below them, but no one has been able to talk to a Firefly Dancer. They always disappear and hide somewhere in the mangroves.

One group of fishers swore they saw a Firefly dancer slide out from under the mangroves and turn into a fish, swimming away as fast as a dolphin, but everyone thinks they just made that up.

Still, many Seminole now believe in the Firefly Dancers. Some think they are spirits from the sea, coming to the mangroves for their Summer powwow, but no one really knows for sure."

Lucie kept a journal, writing down things that she thought were important during her days on the island, and this story was definitely written in the journal. It was as if she couldn't wait to write it in that day, there was something to the way that Hachi told it that made it seem just a little scary. After all, if there was something in the Ten Thousand islands that was a mystery to even the Seminole, it was a very deep mystery indeed.

One of the things Lucie was really good at was sewing. This is probably the main reason she was able to keep even a small shack on the island, being young, with a small child, and alone. The shack was one that had been abandoned after the hurricane of '44. It was actually built on four-foot posts, but apparently the previous resident had had enough of hurricanes, and left for up North. That was just fine by Lucie, as she figured the Devil would never think to look for her and her young son here at the end of civilization where the hurricanes blew.

Lucie's husband Alan Wisp, had been home on leave from the Pacific theater of the war for Thanksgiving in November of '44, and it had been a wonderful, loving visit. Sadly, it had also been the last time she would ever see him. Alan had been a radio operator on the USS Franklin, which had been bombed heavily off of Japan on March 19th, 1945. Though the heavy aircraft carrier was not lost, over 800 of her crew had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. It broke Lucie's heart that Alan had been among them.

Lucie would never forget the day that the telegram had arrived at her door. She was six months pregnant with Alan's first and only child at the time. The young deliveryman had handed her the telegram. She'd opened it before he could turn to leave, fearing exactly what she'd found.  Tears had welled up in her eyes and her legs had nearly buckled under her. The deliveryman had even gotten misty-eyed when he'd realized he had given the worst news to a twenty-four-year-old and pregnant widow. This late in the war, far too many families had received just such telegrams, and this couldn't have been the first the young man had been required to deliver. "I'm sorry, ma'am." he'd said softly, doffing his cap and bowing his head. "Th..thank you sir." She had replied. That was it. Just that evil piece of paper. She still had it in her journal.

Lucie had never dreamed she would end up a war widow. Everyone knew it was possible, and everyone knew someone it had happened to. Still, it never felt real, until it was you or your family getting a telegram, she guessed.

Even with the small stipend from the government, Lucie had been unable to maintain the small home that she had shared with Alan, especially with her pregnancy showing. She had been able to make some additional monies from sewing for hire, but had still been forced to move in with her mother and father, Gerard and Beatrice MacConover. 

While Beatrice had been happy to have her daughter back at home, despite the sad circumstances, Gerard had not appreciated having another person in the house who disapproved of his drinking and other habits.

Lucie's father  was prone to fits of drunken rage, gambling, and there were rumors of some womanizing about town as well. Cairo was not a large town, and any such gossip made it quickly about town. Lucie had on more than one occasion berated her father in private for his behavior, and his treatment of her mother. Lucie could see the covered bruises her mother tried not to show.

The final straw had been when Gerard had struck Lucie with a fist and knocked her to the ground while she was pregnant. The very next afternoon, when Gerard had gone to the local tavern, Lucie had gathered all of her clothing, money, and sewing supplies, placed them in the car Alan had bought her while on leave, grabbed a map of the USA, and left her mother crying in the drive.

Lucie had stopped at a restaurant in the next town in Tennessee, and while waiting for dinner, found the most remote place in the Southernmost State of Florida the map showed. She spent the next three days driving, and slept in the car with the doors locked in a couple of small Southern towns along the way. It was an arduous journey, but she would be damned if she would let the "Devil of Cairo," as she had now named her father Gerard, ever find her in a million years.

Despite knowing no one in Everglades, Florida, Lucie had set out to go there, disappear into a quiet life, and try to raise her child when it was born as best she could. At least she could sew for her supper. A seamstress's life was in front of her, and she was not afraid to work. She could cook quite well also, if need be, or wait tables if it came to that. It was really a question of whether the people of the area would accept her.

(To be continued)