"Are you going to deny her story to her face?" she challenged.

He swallowed hard. "Gladys . . ."

"I want to know the truth and I want you to admit to it. She told me things you said about us, Octavious, intimate things she would not know otherwise."

"I . . ."

"You were in that swamp fishing, weren't you, Octavious?" she said, beginning her relentless interrogation.

"Yes, but . . ."

"And you poled to that pond, didn't you? You saw her there?"

"That doesn't mean I did what she claims I did."

"But you did do it, didn't you?" she pursued.

"Took off your clothes and climbed up on the rock to sit beside her? Well?"

"Look, she invited me to . . ."

"Octavious, you made love to this girl, didn't you?" she demanded, stepping toward him, her eyes wide and furious. He looked down. "Answer me and tell the truth! You're only prolonging this horrible moment and driving the knife deeper into my heart."

He nodded slowly, biting down on his lower lip. Then he looked up sharply.

"Ha!" Daddy said, slapping his hands on his knees.

"There's no way she can prove that her baby is my baby," Octavious said quickly. "This sort of girl—"

"Doesn't lie," Gladys said, nodding. She looked at me and then at him before she took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. When she turned back to us, I saw the glitter of tears in her eyes, but she sucked in her breath and blinked away those tears.

"How much does he want?" Octavious asked, glaring at Daddy.

"It's not only what he wants," Gladys replied. We all looked at her, Daddy the most surprised. "It's what I want," she said, and regained her composure to make the most astounding demands of all.


4

  Bought and Sold

"What is it you want?" Daddy asked Gladys Tate before Octavious could. Octavious sat there seemingly hypnotized by his wife's movements. Mama once told me there's no hate such as that born out of a love betrayed. Like Octavious, I wondered what sort of revenge Gladys was concocting.

She walked to the window, hesitated a moment, and then jerked the curtains closed as if she thought someone might be spying on us. It darkened the room and her face when she turned slowly back to us. Octavious squirmed in his seat. The dark cherry grandfather clock in the corner bonged the noon hour. While it did, Gladys fixed her eyes on me like a marsh hawk sighting in its prey.

"Who else knows what's happened to you?" she asked sharply.

"Just my mother," I replied. A small smile trembled over her lips as she nodded slightly. Then she swung her gaze at Daddy, her face tightening, her shoulders rising.

"And who else have you told, monsieur?"

"Me?" He looked at Octavious and then back at her. "I just found out about this today, so I ain't had time to tell anyone, but you can be damn sure that I'll talk and talk plenty if—"

"You'll get your money, monsieur," Gladys spit. "Far more than you expected, too."

Daddy's eyes lit up with glee. He sat back and smiled, nodding his head.

"Well, that's more like it. You can't treat folks miserably just because they ain't as rich as you," he said. "You can't just go about abusing and—"

"Spare me the lecture, monsieur," Gladys commanded, her hand up like a traffic policeman. "What my husband has done is terrible, but I'm sure it pales beside some of the things you have done in your life," she declared.

"What? Why, I ain't never been arrested or—"

"Never?" Gladys smiled coolly. Daddy glanced at me and then at her. "It's not important. Nothing you've done or even said matters here. That's not what interests me in all this."

"Well . . . what does?" Daddy cried, his face red with frustration.

"Her," Gladys said, pointing her thin finger at me. She had rings on every finger, but on the forefinger she had a large ruby in a silver setting. Her long, rose red fingernails looked like tiny daggers aimed at my heart. I shuddered, ice sliding down my spine.

"Me?"

"Since no one but your mother and the people in this room know you're pregnant with my husband's baby," she began, "I propose, no, I insist, that you remain here until you give birth to the child."

"What?" Daddy said. "What for she should do that?"

I could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Why would she want to set her eyes on me, much less have me in her presence now?

Gladys turned to Daddy and flashed that oily smile at him again.

"You're so ignorant, you don't even understand what a wonderful thing I am offering your daughter and your family," she said. "Do you think a mere sum of money extorted from us will cure all the problems your daughter, your wife, and even you will endure once she begins to show her unwed pregnancy?"

"Well, no, but . . ."

"What are you proposing to do, Gladys?" Octavious asked in a dry, tried voice. She glared at him in silence for a moment.

"I'm proposing to become pregnant," she said.

"What? I don't understand," Octavious said. He shook his head. "How can you . . ." Then he paused and looked at me, his face lighting with comprehension. "But, Gladys, why do you wish to do this?"

"It's not only these swamp people who will be the talk of the bayou once this is out, Octavious. And do you for a moment think that we can buy this man's silence?" she followed, nodding toward Daddy.

"If I give my word," Daddy began, "you can be—"

"Your word." She threw her head back and laughed and then fired a look of fury at him. "What happens when you go to one of your zydeco haunts and guzzle too much whiskey, monsieur? Will you still keep your word? Do you take me for a fool because my husband . . . my husband has done this dreadful thing?"

"Well," Daddy said. He chewed on his thoughts for a moment, not knowing how to react and not sure yet what it was Gladys Tate was proposing. "I don't think I understand all this."

She croaked a short laugh. "And you think I do?" She raised her eyes toward the ceiling. "Some women drop children like calves in a field all day and all night." She glared at me and then, looking sad, she said, "And some are denied the blessing of their own child because of some quirk in nature." She turned to Octavious. He looked away, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.

"What I am proposing," she continued, glancing at me first, "is that Gabrielle remain here at the house during the entire period of pregnancy. She will live upstairs and no one will know she is here, not even my servants. I will see to it that she is well taken care of until the baby is born and everyone thinks it is mine. In order for that to happen, I will pretend to be pregnant myself and go through all the stages of pregnancy."

"Well, how you gonna do that?" Daddy asked, smiling. "Swallow a watermelon?" He laughed and looked at me. I was too shocked and frightened by her suggestion to move an inch, much less smile or laugh.

Gladys Tate's face went paper white for a moment and then she shot Daddy a stabbing glance.

"Let that be my concern, monsieur, and not yours," she said, her voice resembling a snake's hiss. She straightened her back again and looked at me. "After it's over, Gabrielle can return home and no one will know any of the dreary details. She can go on with her life and be the candidate for marriage to a decent man you hoped she would be."

"What about the baby?" Daddy asked, undaunted.

"The baby," she said after a deep breath. "I told you. Everyone will think the baby is mine. The baby will remain here and be brought up a Tate. He or she is a Tate anyway," she added.

"I don't know," Daddy said, shaking his head. "My wife, she may not put up with this, no. . . ."

"What's the alternative?" she fired. "Your wife will live in utter shame forever, I'm sure. Surely," she said, turning to me, "you don't want your mother to go through the indignity, to be the subject of gossip forever, to have to avoid the looks of others, to know people are whispering about you. Blaming my husband won't be enough to exonerate you, Gabrielle," she charged, nodding at me. "Men will still think you were somewhat responsible, especially when everyone learns you were swimming nude."

I tried to swallow, but my throat lump was like a rock. She kept her eyes fixed on me so intently, I was unable to look away. I couldn't help but think about Mama. Gladys Tate was right. Mama would never show it, but I knew she would feel terrible. Some people would stop using her as a traiteur, and others would treat us like lepers.

"Daddy?" I said after a moment. "I think she might be right."

"What? You saying you want to do this, give up the baby and all?"

I nodded slowly and lowered my head like a flag of defeat. It did seem like a sensible solution to all the problems.

"I don't know. Keeping my daughter like a prisoner, keeping the baby . . ."

"Octavious," Gladys said sharply, and then smiled like a Cheshire cat, "why don't you take Monsieur Landry into the office and discuss the financial considerations, while Gabrielle and I have our own little chat."

Octavious looked at her a moment and then stood up as if he had to lift three times his weight. She pulled him aside at the door and whispered something in his ear that made him crimson.

"Are you crazy?" he said. "He'll just drink it up, waste it."

"That's not our concern," she said. "Monsieur," she added, turning to Daddy. He glanced at me and then rose slowly.

"This ain't a done deal," he said. "Not till I hear what they have to offer, hear, Gabrielle?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good." He exchanged a look with Gladys Tate, but she couldn't be intimidated. He knew it and followed Octavious out of the room and to the office. Gladys Tate closed the door behind them and took a seat in the high-back chair. She rested her arms over the chair arms and kept her back straight. To me she looked regal. Even though we were on the same level, I felt as if I were gazing up at her or she were looking down at me.