He let go of me and stepped back, his eyes down, his head lowered. "Because deep inside, I guess I am a coward, I am weak, I am selfish," he declared.
"No, Pierre . . ."
"Yes," he insisted. "There's no way to sugarcoat it. Your father appeared that day, wild, angry. I tried to say something, to explain and to make promises, but I saw he was not a man with whom words would work, so I ran from him. I stood by and watched him set fire to our love nest and I did nothing. When other people began to arrive, I fled to New Orleans, crawled back behind the safety of my walls and gates and left you here to bear the brunt of it all. You have every right to hate me, Gabriel."
"I could never hate you, Pierre."
"Haven't you suffered a great deal?"
"Only because I haven't seen or heard from you," I said, smiling.
He shook his head. "You're far too good for me. I'm sure you've borne insults, and your father . . ."
"He's out of our house. He lives in the swamp," I said. "He and Mama fought terribly."
Pierre widened his eyes.
"If it wasn't this, it would have been something else," I said sadly. "Mama and Daddy have been drifting apart for a long time."
"I see. I am sorry. Shortly after your father came here and I ran home," he continued, "I told my father everything and then he and Daphne discussed it."
"He and Daphne? Not you?"
"Not right away. Daphne has sort of stepped in to look after my father since my mother died. She's actually closer to him than I am these days, and especially now," he said with more sadness than bitterness.
"You know she came here to see me?"
"Oui. She enjoyed telling me about her conversation with you. I feel even more like a cad. Here I had gone and made all these promises to you about our baby, how I was going to take care of you and provide, and then she surprises me by going to see you and gets you to do this thing. But that's Daphne," he said. "She's a remarkable woman who finds it easy to take charge of everyone's life, not just her own
."
"She wants to be the mother of your child very much," I said.
He smirked. "What Daphne wants, she usually gets, one way or another."
"I had the feeling she was doing this for your father as much as she was for herself and you," I told him.
He raised his eyes again and nodded. "Yes," he said. He turned away and gazed into the cypress trees. "I haven't been completely truthful with you, Gabriel," he said in a voice so weak and troubled, I couldn't help but tremble in expectation. "I let you think of me as a fine gentleman, a man of character and position, but the truth is, I don't deserve to stand in your presence, and I certainly don't deserve your love, or anyone's love for that matter."
"Pierre . .
"No," he said, pulling his head back to gaze up at the sky. "I want you to understand why I care so much about my father's happiness, even more, please forgive me, than I do yours and certainly my own."
He turned back to me.
"My brother's accident was no accident. Yes, we drank too much and we shouldn't have been out in that sort of weather, and yes, he should have known all this better than me, for he was the sailor.
"But he was everything in my father's eyes, even though he was younger. He was more of a man's man, you see, an athlete, charming, handsome. He could get more with his smile and twinkling eyes than I could with all my intelligence and knowledge.
"Even Daphne, who was my fiancee at the time, was more infatuated with him than she was with me. Ours was more of a marriage of convenience, the logical couple, but with him she was romantic, even radiant; with him . . . she was the lover," he said.
"And so, when we were out there on that lake and the opportunity came to do him harm, I did and immediately regretted it. But it was too late. The damage was done. Only I had struck a blow that reached even more deeply into my parents' hearts than Jean's. My mother suffered, had heart trouble, became an invalid, and died. My father went into deep depressions, and in fact, it was only Daphne who could bring him out of them.
"She was the one who suggested we come to the bayou to hunt. It was almost as if she knew I would find you. Of course, that's ridiculous, but still . . Anyway, when she presented the idea to me in her usual businesslike manner, and when she told me how much my father wanted it, I couldn't stop her. I couldn't care more about my promises to you. I'm sorry. I've gotten you into a much deeper mess than you ever imagined.
"I deserve your disdain, not your love," he concluded. "That will never be," I said.
"I won't be able to come back to see you again," he warned. "And certainly I won't be able to bring our child. It wouldn't be fair to Daphne."