Saving Savannah Read Free

up.
    In order to move to Alaska, where she heard employment opportunities abounded, she figured she needed five thousand dollars. Thus far, she had only three thousand. Murphy’s Law again, what with a mugging and a long bout with the flu, not to mention the dentist and pediatrician for Katie. Two steps forward and one step back.
    Living in her car ended up being her only option for saving, unless she wanted to risk losing her daughter by going into a homeless shelter. Child Protective Services hovered there, like vultures. Oh, she had to give CPS credit. They did good for lots of neglected or abused kids, but they also thought nothing of taking a child away from her mother. Being homeless and working in a strip joint did not stack in her favor.
    By the time she and Katie had completed their early morning swim at the Y, followed by a quick shower and change of clothes, they were both starving. Luckily, the St. Christopher shelter was still serving breakfast.
    When they’d gone through the line and were about to sit down, Savannah noticed an old lady staring at her. A really strange old lady. Wearing tight capri pants with a glittery red tank top, a huge blond wig disproportionate to her small stature, and a generous slathering of make-up. Actually, she resembled a dolled-up version of that actress Estelle Getty who used to be on the TV show Golden Girls .
    More important, Savannah was pretty sure the same woman had been watching her when she pulled into the parking lot a short time ago. Not a good thing. Hers and Katie’s clothing were stacked to the roof of the back seat, along with clear plastic boxes holding all their belongings, including photo albums she had luckily rescued before the flood. A person wouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out their situation. Staying under the radar had been Savannah’s code for too long to not be fearful of any attention now.
    She led Katie to the back of the room, far from the serving area where the woman continued to stare suspiciously at her. With their backs to the cafeteria, she and Katie sat down and dug in. Scrambled eggs and toast. Pancakes and syrup. Oatmeal and dry cereal. All washed down with milk for Katie and black coffee for her. She would take several packets of crackers and a carton of orange juice with her for later.
    “Hello.”
    Savannah jumped with surprise, almost knocking over her coffee. Katie giggled at her side.
    The old lady sank down into a chair across from them. No more than five feet tall, she had to lift her arms to rest her elbows on the table.
    “Are you a grandma?” never-bashful Katie blurted out. “I don’t have no grandma.” The little devil pouted her lips with exaggerated woe. Her daughter had been on a grandmother kick for a week, ever since the grandmother of a classmate brought chocolate cupcakes to school. So far no questions about a daddy, thank God.
    “No, but I’m an auntie. My real name is Louise Rivard, but you kin call me Tante Lulu. Thass what everyone calls me. Tante means aunt.”
    Katie’s eyes went wide. She tried the words out hesitantly. “Tan-te. Lu-lu. You talk funny.”
    “Katie!” Savannah admonished.
    Katie ignored her and continued talking to the stranger. “Are you Spanish? My teacher, Miss Sanchez, is from Party Rico.”
    Tante Lulu laughed. “No, mon petit chou , I’m jist Cajun from down the bayou.”
    Savannah had thought she detected that lyrical accent prevalent in Southern Louisiana. Having an English minor in college, she’d once done a paper on the various patois prevalent throughout the South. The Cajun dialect was by far the most fascinating.
    But wait. Her persistent daughter had a new idea, and before Savannah could halt her running tongue, the little girl asked with wonder, “You’ll be my aunt, too?”
    Whoa, whoa, whoa! Too much, too soon. Not ever.
    “Sure. Jist like I am to my nieces and nephews, Luc, Remy, René, Tee-John and Charmaine, and ta all the folks that ain’t