I completed cleaning up from dinner and then went quickly down to the dock to get into my canoe. The thumping in my chest was so hard and so fast, I almost couldn't pole and I was terrified I would lose my breath and fall out again. But I moved swiftly along the bank, and before long, saw the Daisys' old landing. There was just a sliver of moon tonight, and even that was blocked most of the time by thick layers of dark clouds rolling in from the Gulf. The cicadas were louder than ever, accompanied by a chorus of bullfrogs. A night heron landed on the dock before I arrived and strutted around for a moment before sailing off into the darkness.

From the dock I could see the tiny light of the butane lantern in the shack's rear window. It flickered like a candle. I hesitated, embraced myself and gazed into the darkness around and behind me. Everything felt forbidden; Mama had cast a blanket of taboo over the world with her dark gaze tonight. But inside the shack, the love of my life waited to feel my lips on his. His dazzling eyes danced on the inside of my lids whenever I closed them, and his voice was in the gentle breeze that lifted the strands of my hair and tickled the inside of my ears. I heard him calling, "Gabrielle . Gabrielle." I could practically feel his hand around mine, leading me, pulling me along, urging me to be at his side.

He didn't come out to greet me before I reached the shack, and when I opened the door slowly and stepped into the darkness, I didn't hear or see him. Maybe it wasn't Pierre; maybe someone else was in the shack.

"Pierre?" I called. There was no response; nothing but the drumming of my own heart against my chest. "Pierre?" I walked in farther, reaching the steps and listening. "Pierre?"

"Gabrielle," I finally heard from the darkness above. "I'm up here, waiting for you."

My body trembled so. I had to hold on to the railing as I ascended. Slowly, wrapped in the darkness myself, I approached the doorway of the bedroom and gazed in at him, bathed in the dim light of the butane lantern. He was naked on our bed, his body gleaming.

"I shouldn't have come," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "I should have resisted."

"You might as well try to hold your breath forever," he replied. "We can't refuse what our hearts desire. Gabrielle, come to me," he said, holding out his arms.

Resembling someone under hypnosis, I walked slowly, my legs feeling as if they glided on air to the bed. It was his idea that we not touch each other, not kiss, not caress, not even brush each other with our breaths for a while. He lay back as I undressed in the yellow glow of the small lantern. Then he shifted to the opposite side of the bed and I lay down, my head on the pillow, my eyes fixed on him. We gazed at each other, both our hearts pounding, the blood rushing through our bodies.

Every part of me longed to be touched. My lips tingled in anticipation. He smiled and brought his hand to within an inch of my breasts, moving over the air between us as if he were caressing me. I moaned, closed my eyes, and waited.

"It's exquisite, this torture," he said.

I squirmed, moaned again, and ran the tip of my tongue over my lips in anticipation of his kiss.

"Every inch between us is like a mile," he said. "Now you know how painful it is for me to return to New Orleans and what it is like for me to look out of my window toward the bayou and think of you."

I had come hoping to have the strength to refuse him, but now it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself at him.

"Gabrielle," he finally said, and brought his lips closer and closer until we finally kissed. It was the most tingling, exciting kiss between us yet. I held him harder and tighter than he held me and then we touched and brought our bodies together. Our lovemaking was more frantic this time. It was as if we had driven each other mad by teasing each other with our desire. I didn't want it to end, and when it threatened to do so, I cried out and demanded more, digging my fingers into his shoulders and hips.

He laughed and we made love until both our bodies shone with sweat, our hearts ready to burst, our lungs unable to keep up with the demand for air. Gasping, but happier than ever, we lay back, our heads beside each other, his arm around my shoulders, and waited to catch enough breath to speak.

"Can you ever doubt my love for you?" he asked. "No more than I can doubt my own for you."

"Good. Then let there be no more talk of resisting."

I curled up in the warm nook of his arm and listened as he described what it was like for him anticipating our rendezvous, planning it around his father's trip.

"We were so busy, I didn't know when we would be able to get back here, but my father was almost as anxious as I was."

"No one will miss you at home when they see you haven't returned with him?" I asked, meaning his wife.

"I'm on a business trip as far as anyone knows. It's not uncommon for me to do that, but I think my father has some suspicions."

"What will he do?" I asked, a bit frightened.

"Nothing. He isn't looking for any more unpleasantness. Despite the way he behaves with his friends, he is a very unhappy man these days. First, there is my brother Jean, as I told you, and second, there's . . ."

"What?" I asked when he hesitated.

"My wife's failure to be with child. He's been hoping for grandchildren. He's very disappointed."

"Is there no hope that your brother will someday recuperate?"

"No. The doctors believe the damage was permanent. He may improve enough to take care of his basic needs, but he'll never be the man he was," Pierre said, and sat up quickly. "I blame myself," he added.

I put my hand on his back. "Why? If you were caught in a storm . ."

"I should have never gone out with him. If I hadn't, if I had listened to my own warnings and not let him taunt me into it, he would be fine today."

"But he was a good sailor, wasn't he? He should have known, too."

"Jean was always challenging me to be like him. I think that ego of his got the best of him. I should have restrained him. I'm older, wiser," he said.

"But you're a man, and every man has ego, I'm sure."

"No," he said sharply. "It was my fault," he said firmly. "I've got to learn to live with that, but more importantly, I've got to find a way to bring my father some happiness before he dies. I try. I do the best I can with our businesses, but it's never enough. My father is a very demanding person, you see.

"But," he said suddenly, turning back to me and smiling, "let's not talk about my family problems. Let's just talk about us.

"Let us make a pledge to one another. Let us pledge to care only about our own bliss and not think about the consequences of anything we do together as long as we do it out of love and for each other."

"It sounds like a very selfish pledge," I said.

"It's meant to be. I want to pluck happiness out of the jaws of sadness, drive the monster away and keep us protected forever and ever, shielded from the miseries, the jealousies, the evil, that seems to seep into everyone's life, even the richest and most respected people. No one will have the ecstasy we will have, Gabrielle. I swear."

"You overwhelm me with your love for me," I said. "It scares me because I don't know if I can keep such a pledge, Pierre. I think my mother already knows about us."

"If she's truly a woman with vision, she will see how full your heart is and how good our love is and she will not want us to part."

"But you're married. We can't be lovers forever."

"We'll find a way, somehow," he said. "For now, let's not think about it. Let's not think about anything that takes from our love. Let's be deliberately blind and deaf to anything but ourselves. Can you do that?"

He didn't wait for my reply. He brought his lips to mine and then he kissed my chin and my breasts, laying his head in my lap. I stroked his hair and gazed down into his handsome face and pleading eyes and ordered the voices inside me that wanted to warn me to be silent.

Be still my heart, I thought, and listen only to my love's vow.

I lay back on the pillow. It started to pour, the drops tapping on the tin roof. He raised himself slowly and then brought himself to me so we could make love again to the rhythm of the rain.

It was still raining when I left the shack to pole my pirogue home. Pierre wanted to drive me, but I told him it was far from the first time I poled in the rain, even at night. He walked down to the dock with me and we kissed as we parted. He stood there, smiling, the drops trickling over his cheeks, soaking him, but him acting as if it were the brightest, driest day. I pushed off and waved and, after a moment, lost sight of him in the darkness. He said he was going to drive back to New Orleans tonight and he would let me know when he would be able to return to our love nest.

Mama and Daddy weren't home when I returned, which made it easier for me. I didn't like lying to Mama, but I had a story already prepared. I was long in bed and even asleep when they came home. I woke to the sounds of Daddy's laughter and Mama telling him to hush up. He knocked into a chair and Mama chastised him again. Then she helped him up the stairs and into bed. I heard her come to my doorway and sensed she was standing there awhile, but I pretended to be asleep.

Daddy slept late the next morning. When I went down to breakfast, Mama was up, sitting at the table, her hands cupped around a mug of steaming coffee. She gazed into the dark liquid as if it were a crystal ball.

"Morning, Mama," I said, and shifted my eyes quickly to avoid her penetrating gaze when she raised her head. It was as good as a confession. She waited for me to get some coffee and a biscuit before she spoke.