replied with a wink.
"But why?"
"Why? Just to be close to you whenever I want
to be and when, I hope, you want me to be," he said.
He took my hand. Feeling swept along, I could only
follow him up the path to the shack. It was never
anything when the Daisys lived in it, but it had fallen
into some ruin after John Daisy's death. Pierre had had
the floorboards repaired, the holes mended, the
windows recovered, the tin roof restored, and the
furniture replaced. He had a new rug in the sitting
room.
"I brought that in from New Orleans myself,"
he said, nodding at the rug. "The shack has none of the modern conveniences, but I think that's what gives it all it's charm, don't you?" he said as I wandered through it. "The lamps have oil; there's something to eat and drink and the bed has new linens. What else could we ask for?" he said, and opened a cabinet in the kitchen to take out some glasses and then some
wine from a cool chest he had filled with ice. "I can't believe you did this," I said.
"I'm a man of action," he replied, laughing. He
uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. "Let's
make a toast," he said, handing me my glass. "To our
dream house in our dreamworld. I hope I never wake
up." He tapped my glass and brought his to his lips.
After a moment I sipped my wine, too. "So? What do
you think?"
"I think you're a madman," I said.
"Good. I'm tired of being Pierre Dumas, the
sensible, brilliant, respected businessman. I want to
feel young and alive again, and you make me feel that
way, Gabriel. You wipe the cobwebs out of my brain
and drive the shadows from my heart. You are all
sunshine and cool, clear water.
"Didn't you think constantly of me these past