xp_logs | Doug and Tante Mattie, backdated

Set during Doug and Angie's trip to New Orleans. Doug waits in Tante's shack, Tante comes back and is her usual intimidating self. She cooks dinner, and Doug actually manages to surprise her.

Doug decided that it was a good thing he'd brought plenty of books with him. Immediately upon arrival, Tante Mattie had marched Marie-Ange straight out to the swamp, leaving Doug to his own devices. That had been three hours ago, and Doug's stomach was rumbling in an attempt to make its demands known. Tante Mattie hadn't said more than a couple words to Doug, but he had begun to understand why she scared Remy. Doug wouldn't have credited Remy with the sense to come in out of the rain, normally, but he appeared to have uncommonly good sense when it came to Tante Mattie.

The door banged open with the sounds of the storm rushing in past it. Tante Mattie stepped in, rain now lashing the bayou outside, winds whipping the water back and forth. Despite the downpour, Tante looked merely damp, with mud dripping off of her legs. She pushed the door shut with some effort, and pulled a tattered cloth from a hook to wipe the mind from her legs and feet.

Tante ignored Doug as she tossed the cloth into a bin and walked over to the wood burning stove. She made a disgusted noise when she opened it, seeing it left to mostly embers. She pulled a handful of fuel from the woodbox and pushed it in, poking the fire to draw up the flame again. The door was shut with a clang, and Tante placed a large steel kettle and a large pot on the black iron top.

Oh yes. Without a word being said, Doug understood very well why Remy was scared of Tante Mattie. She didn't _have_ to say anything. The body language was enough to convey that she was somehow not impressed with Doug, and this was not the sort of person he wanted not impressed with him. "Um, is there anything I can do to help?" he asked quietly and tentatively, marking his place in his book and looking up.

"Jah can. Dere's a large pot outside on de firepit." A peal of thunder punctuated her point, and Doug risked a look out the window to see the rain coming down in sheets. "Jah can bring dat in here so dat Tante can get de supper on."

The challenge was obvious in her eyes only, while her face remained impassive. Like Amanda and Marie-Ange had mentioned, being around Tante was a series of constant challenges from her.

"Oh goody," Doug mumbled to himself as he assessed the sheets of water running off of the roof. Walking out into the teeth of a torrential rainstorm wasn't his idea of a good time. Still, his parents had raised him to be polite and helpful when he was a guest in someone else's home, and so he dashed out the door toward the firepit. Even a few seconds of the rain was enough to leave him soaked to the skin, so he grudgingly decided that running pell-mell wasn't going to get him any dryer, and indeed that hurrying could lead to slipping in the mud. So he picked his steps carefully, watching the sky for more lightning. Taking up the pot, he brought it back to the shack, dumping the rainwater that had collected in it out before bringing it indoors.

Tante looked at the pot for a moment, and then at the dripping teen. "Jah think dat de pot might be a little more useful when filled wit' water, childe?" She said, a nasty edge to her deep voice. "Dere's a rain barral 'round de side of de house. Fill it to de top, and mind dat no frogs or newts end up in wit' de water." She turned her back to him and began to mash dried herbs and chilis with a motor and pestle from the counter.

Lovely. This was going to be one of those evenings that, no matter what, he wouldn't be able to do anything right, as far as Tante was concerned. Since he was already soaked, the trip to the rain barrel wasn't hugely unpleasant, merely slightly so, as Doug did his best to avoid the largest mudpatches. He filled the pot, assiduously keeping the frogs and newts out of it, and then carefully making his way back to bring it to Tante.

Tante took the heavy pot with apparent ease and set it on the now warm stove top. She began to add things to it, bunches of vegetables, dried fish, thick chunks of sausage, and handfuls of herbs that made the shack quickly grow redolent with sharp, spicy scents. Tante gave the pot a stir and settled the lid overtop to simmer. She came back and sat down in the large creaking cane chair, humming to herself.

Doug inhaled for a moment, enjoying the scents, and the food that they promised. At a loss for anything else to do, and not wanting to interrupt Tante, he went back to where his and Angie's things had been stored, and selected a dry shirt and pants to change into, carefully hanging his wet clothes to dry. Then, coming back into the main living area, he selected another chair and settled into it with his paperback.

There was a long silence that stretched in the shack, Tante seeming to be content to relax in her chair, ignoring Doug who was trying to focus on his book. Slowly the shack filled with the sharp spicy smell. Tante finally got up and filled a pair of bowls, setting them down on the small table.

Doug rather enjoyed the silence, not feeling a need to fill it up with chatter, especially not with the risk that Tante would find something to object to. Standing up, he made his way to the table and took his cues from Tante, waiting to sit until she had taken her own chair, and holding off on beginning to eat until she had.

Both of them sat down quietly to eat, and the firey stew quickly assumed all attention. Tante hadn't provided any water or drinks on the table, placidly eating and just occasionally glancing at Doug across from her.

At the first taste of the spicy Cajun cooking, Doug closed his eyes and made a beatific noise of pleasure. Setting into his bowl with a will, he made quick work of the stew. Looking up at Tante, who was eating a bit more sedately, he smiled hesitantly. "This is very good," he said. "Could I please have a bit more?"

Tante's face didn't change, but the slight gleam in her eye was that the judges had awarded Doug a pair of grudging eights. She refilled both bowls and sat back down. After a moment, she looked out the window. "Before jah start into dat, you should go get Marie-Ange. De childe is at de edge of de clearing, but is too tired to keep going."

Doug didn't ask how she knew, simply heading out the door as Tante watched. She smiled thinly, her thoughts her own as she considered the pair. Whatever conclusions she kept to herself, putting out a thick rough towel, a wash cloth and a ewer full of hot water for the mud-streaked girl that Doug was helping up the steps. Their visit had been a learning experience, and not just for them. Tante wiped away her pleased look and settled back into annoyance.

"Jah not getting mud all over Tante's clean floor! Take de childe outside and get her cleaned up, jah cabron. Men t'inking wit' dey stomach, not dey brain." Tante gathered up the supplies and bustled them all back outside, closing the door and her thoughts to the pair.