It did feel more like an illusion than an actual event. I had to pinch myself to convince myself I was living this and not asleep on some rock conjuring the images. I walked on air, my heart full of contentment, but as I drew closer to the shack, I heard Mama and Daddy arguing about money. I paused by the window and listened.

She claimed he had gambled away what he had, and he swore it all went to expenses. He wanted her to give him what she had put aside, but she refused.

"I ain't helping you pay your new gambling debt, Jack. Gabrielle and I worked hard for the little we've put away, and we ain't watching it get washed down some ditch, along with everything else you own."

"Ahh. You listen to me," Daddy said in a deep, threatening voice.

Suddenly Mama wailed and then I heard her cry for Saint Medad. She followed that with a string of gibberish only she understood, and a moment later, Daddy came rushing out of the house, his hair wild, his face flushed, his eyes bulging with fear. He practically leaped into his truck and drove off.

When I entered the house, Mama was collapsed in her rocker, her head down so that her chin touched her chest.

"Mama!" I cried, going quickly to her side and kneeling to hold her hand.

She lifted her head slowly. "I'm all right. I thought it was him returning," she said with a cold smile. Then her face saddened. "It's too bad I have to revert to mumbo-jumbo and superstition to keep him under control.

"I got our money buried all over this place, Gabrielle, in places he ain't never going to find. It's better he don't know how much we have stored or he'll take it and leave us high and dry while he goes off on another bender. What he ain't got, he can't lose," she concluded.

"I'm sorry, Mama," I said. "I thought he was doing so much better."

"He was, but he's not constant; he'll never be dependable, I'm afraid. But," she said, rising, "we've got to make do with what we have now, don't we? I'll see to our dinner."

"Do you still love him, Mama?" I asked. I wondered how it would be possible, especially after being with Pierre and seeing how wonderful real love could be. Mama paused and thought a moment and then tweaked her lips into a tiny smile.

"Sometimes, when he's like he was, I feel the pitter-patter again. But," she said with a deep sigh, "it don't last."

It wasn't until that moment, until I had traveled on my own cloud of ecstasy and seen what love and true passion could be, that I fully understood Mama's burden and felt truly sorry for her. I wished I could tell her, but I knew if I uttered a single word that suggested anything, she would forbid me to leave the house and find a way to drive Pierre from my life quickly. Some secrets, I thought, were necessary, but I believed, I hoped, that maybe there would be a time when they wouldn't be.

Of course, I was still very young and had no idea how dark the future could be. Only Mama knew that; only she had the vision. For the moment I didn't want her to look into my future. I'd rather be like one of my swamp turtles and pull in my head until the storms passed. The question was, did I have as hard a shell with which to protect myself?

Daddy surprised us by not getting drunk and staying away as he usually did whenever he got into a row with Mama. He returned home that night, sober, and he was up early the next morning.

"I got me an important job today," he said when I came down to the kitchen. "Those rich people from New Orleans you were asking about the other day sent word they were returning for another hunting trip."

"Monsieur Dumas?" I said after a slight gasp.

"Oui. I'm buying a new pirogue because they're bringing a few more with them," he told me. "Got me a loan yesterday. I have to pay a lot of interest because someone won't lend me the money without interest," he added, glaring at Mama. She pretended not to hear him complain. "Anyway, they're bringing me the canoe today," he said. "You can break it in for me, Gabrielle. Take it out and put it through the paces, hear?"

"Yes, Daddy." I tried to contain my excitement. Would Pierre appear with his father? Would he be back that much sooner? How would I act? Would I reveal our secret love? Would Mama sense something even if I did nothing?

Late one morning toward the end of the week, three big cars appeared and the men from New Orleans stepped out. My heart skipped a beat. I had been waiting with a feverish insanity since I had awoken, but I wasn't disappointed. Pierre was among them.

Earlier we had had a downpour, but now the feather-brushed storm clouds were far off on the horizon and the sun had already dried the leaves and the grass. Daddy greeted Monsieur Dumas excitedly, and Monsieur Dumas introduced Daddy to the other hunters. As they spoke, Pierre remained in the background, glancing my way from time to time with a tiny smile on his lips. Because of the hour at which they arrived, it was decided Mama and I would feed the men first. They sat at our outside tables and we brought our shrimp etouffée, duck and oyster gumbo, Mama's homemade bread, and wine. It was an exquisite torture for me to serve Pierre without revealing my true feelings for him. I tried not to look at him because I felt the eyes of all the men on me.

"Your daughter is quite pretty, monsieur," Pierre's father remarked to Daddy. He grunted, looked at me as if just realizing I was there, and smiled. I felt a rush of color rise up my neck and into my face. I glanced quickly at Pierre and then looked down.

"She's going to be a great belle," Daddy said between gulps of food.

"Going to be? You would have to be blind not to see that she already is. How old are you, mademoiselle?" Pierre's father asked me.

"Nineteen, monsieur."

"Nineteen? Seems a pity to waste her talents here," one of the other rich men commented.

"She's not being wasted," Mama retorted sharply, and he lost his lusty smile quickly. Daddy scowled and Mama ordered me to bring something into the house.

Soon afterward, they prepared for their hunting trip in the swamps, all of them slipping into their hip-high boots. They checked their shotguns, with Daddy complimenting them on their fine equipment.

Pierre was going along this time, but before he got into the pirogue, he paused beside me, squeezed my hand surreptitiously, and whispered, "I'm going to remain behind at our secret place afterward. I've already arranged it."

"But your father . . ."

"Don't worry about him. Don't worry about anything. Can you come tonight?"

"Yes," I promised.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling as he started away, "I won't kill anything. I'm even a worse shot now that I've met you than I was before."

I laughed and turned to rush back to help Mama clean up. When I did, I saw her gazing at me from a window. Between the batten plank shutters, her face was as dark and as sad as one who just had seen the end of the world.


12

  Following My Heart

Mama said nothing to me; her eyes did all the talking as she prepared our dinner and as we ate, flashing disappointment and sadness my way. Daddy didn't notice anything for a while. He was still beaming from the successful hunting trip and the good money he had made.

"To think I wasted all that time working for someone else," he lectured. "No one's ever going to take advantage of Jack Landry again and treat me like some swamp slave," he vowed. "No sir, I got respect. I think I might just invest in another building, a real boathouse, and eventually hire me an assistant," he continued, building steam as he rambled on. "I'll advertise my place in the papers, maybe even the New Orleans papers. We'll fix up this shack, put on new siding, do up the grounds, make it more presentable."

He paused and gazed at Mama. "What you so quiet about, Catherine? Ain't you happy about the money I gave you and how well we're doin'?"

"I'm happy, Jack," she said quickly. "I just don't want to hear any promises and pledges that ain't going to be kept," she warned.

"You see that, Gabrielle? She says that after all I've done already. A Cajun man ain't got a chance with a Cajun woman. They're the stubbornest, most ornery females this side a hell. You give a Cajun woman an inch of rope and she'll stretch it into enough to hang you upside down from the nearest cypress and leave you dangling till the blood drips out of your hair." He ran his long fingers through his strands and then held out his palms. "Look here, it's happening to me already."

"Go on with you, Jack Landry," Mama said with a tight smile. "You look abused now, don't you?"

"I'm abused because I ain't appreciated enough," he complained.

Mama lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if to ask for divine guidance and then shook her head.

"Your mama's pretty though, Gabrielle. That's why I grin and bear it," he said.

"Go on with you, Jack Landry."

"Pour me a little more of your good wine, Catherine," Daddy said with a different sort of look in his eyes. "It's time you and me did some celebratin'."

"I'll decide when it's time for that," Mama said, but she poured the wine and then flashed another sorry look my way. I finished eating and cleared the table.

"Let's us go for a little ride, Catherine Landry," Daddy suggested. "Like we usta," he added with a wink. It was the first time I could remember seeing Mama blush. She looked away quickly and went to fetch a light shawl.

"We won't be gone long," Mama told me.

"We'll see about that," Daddy said. "We might just stop to look at the moon over the dam at Samson's Landing."

"Hush up, Jack Landry, you fool," Mama snapped. Daddy laughed, put his arm around her waist, and hurried her out. She gazed back at me with a look of warning in her eyes, but Daddy rushed her into the truck before she could add a word. I heard them drive off, and the moment I was alone, my heart began to pound.