Landry 05 Tarnished Gold Read online

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,

  Gabriel, 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, Gabriel. 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 etoufee, 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 hiphigh 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, Gabriel? 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, Gabriel. 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.

  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, "Gabriel . Gabriel." 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?"

  "Gabriel," 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. Gabriel, 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.

  "Gabriel," 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(r)"

  "No," he said sharply. "It was my fault," he said firmly. "I've got to learn to live with that, but m
ore 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, Gabriel. 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.