More Than an Echo (Echo Branson Series) by Linda Kay Silva Read Free Book Online

softly. The only other sounds I could hear were insect noises and other wild sounds I knew nothing about. Our wildlife in Oakland were gang members howling at the moon during drive-bys.
    I was a long way from home.
    “Well, Jacob Marley, educate de girl.”
    Jacob sighed and nodded. “Bayou comes from the French word meaning small stream and is used when talking about the delta of the Mississippi. It’s not a swamp, though folks call it that.”
    I nodded. Swamp, delta, Bayou, it was all the same to me.
    “The water’s got creatures in it that’ll kill you; ’gators and snakes mostly. Stay outta the water and you’ll be safe.”
    “Um...don’t alligators and snakes come to land?”
    “Sure, but not to get you . They come to land for other reasons, but if you go in the water, you’re in their home and could end up their dinner.”
    “Respect de Bayou,” Bones said to no one in particular. “And stay outta de water.”
    I looked down at the brackish water and cringed. It looked filthy, like a really muddy mud puddle. At least if an alligator was going to get you, you’d never see it coming.
     Looking up at the huge trees stationed near the bank, I saw weird mint-green colored string hanging from nearly every branch like a wedding veil. “What’s the green stuff hanging from the trees?”
    “Spanish moss. The Cajuns used to use it to stuff their mattresses.” Jacob looked at me and sighed. “Don’t know what a Cajun is, either, I suppose.”
    I looked away, suddenly feeling very small...or was it just that the world suddenly got bigger?
    “Cajuns were the French speakers who came here from Nova Scotia and preferred the Bayou over the city. Cajun also means a type of cooking. You’ll see that a lot here.”
    “Then what’s Creole?” I’d seen plenty of signs in town about authentic Creole cooking.
    “Creole means different things to different people. Creoles down here were born in the West Indies or came from French descent. You do know that Louisiana is French, right?”
    I knew something was French about it, but not exactly. “Yes, I know.”
    “Creole is a language, a way of cooking and a people. Melika is Creole. Her family is from Haiti.” He looked hard at me and shook his head. “It’s an island in the Caribbean. There are tons of definitions for both words. Whatever you do, don’t confuse a Creole with a Cajun. That really pisses ’em off.” Jacob nodded to Bones. “He’s Creole. Call him a Cajun and he’ll dump you in the water.”
    Nodding, I ducked my head as we passed under a long strand of Spanish moss. “What are you?”
    Bones and Jacob both laughed. “Me? I’m from the Bronx.”
    “New York?”
    Jacob nodded. “Finally, something you do know. I’ve been here since I was eight. Not sure I want to go back to a city. My home is here, and if what I hear is right, I’ll probably die here.”
    I nodded, not understanding what he meant. “And you like it here?” It was beyond me how anyone could like this foreign world with its dinosaurs and deadly snakes.
    “Not like. Love. It’s my home. It’s gonna be yours, too. It may take awhile, but you’ll learn to love it, too. You’ll see.”
    What I saw were metal shacks I thought were sheds dotting the banks of the river, and it took me awhile to realize they were actually people’s homes. Even in the worst foster home, I lived better than these poor people.  “People live there?”
    “Yes. I told you. This place is unlike anywhere in the world, but don’t assume everyone out here is poor. As a matter of fact, don’t assume anything until you learn more about this place.”
    Bones made a sound like he was sucking his teeth. “De boy got dat wrong. Always assume de ’gator is inna water and hungry.”
    I shuddered and changed the subject. “Can you tell me anything about Melika?”
    Jacob shook his head. “She’s not like anyone you will ever meet, but that’s all I’m gonna say about her. She hates being