"I told him I was about to bring Gabriel into New Orleans and take her to the newspaper people if I had to," he said, nodding and smiling. "I would let the whole city know what his fine, upstanding, well-to-do businessman son done to a poor, innocent girl in the bayou."
"Where was Pierre?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"Hiding himself someplace, I bet," Daddy said. "He didn't show his face the whole time I was there. They got a palace, not a house, Catherine. You can't even imagine the rich things in the house and the size of the rooms, and there's a tennis court and a swimming pool and--"
"I don't care about any of that, Jack. Just tell us what you told Monsieur Dumas."
"Well, I expected to get the money I needed to look after Gabriel here. You ain't gonna find yourself a good husband now, Gabriel," he said, turning to me and shaking his head. "A woman with a child and no marriage ain't got a chance and certainly ain't got the pickin's. Why, I couldn't even get you Nicolas Paxton now, and it's your own doin'."
"Never mind all that, Jack. You haven't told us anything we don't know."
"Right." He straightened up. "Well, Monsieur Dumas, he says his son already told him about what he had done. He knew the details, and what's more, he said his son's wife knew the details, so I couldn't threaten him none."
"His wife?" I gasped.
"That's right. That's what he says, and full of arrogance, too. I was about to protest and start ragin' at him when he puts up his hand, looks away for a moment, and then says he's willing . . . no, he wants to buy the child."
"No!" I cried.
"Not again, Jack?" Mama said. "You didn't go and make a bargain with the devil again?"
"This is different, Catherine," Daddy protested. "We got no way to hide Gabriel's condition. We can't keep the community from knowing she's a fallen woman. I got to look after the future. These people are so rich, they make the Tates look like paupers. You see that pile of money there?" he said, pointing to the table. "Well, that's just payment for me to think on it. I'm going to get us enough to take care of us forever. We don't have to worry about Gabriel finding herself a good man, see? And you don't have to go running off at everyone's beck and call to tend to their insect bites and coughs."
Mama was silent a moment. The tears were streaming down my cheeks. Where was Pierre? How could he have permitted his father to make such an offer? Mama rose to her full height, which wasn't much, but with her eyes wide, she looked taller, and Daddy stepped back, shaking his head.
"You gotta admit I done good, Catherine. You gotta admit that."
"You done good? You done good? How, Jack? By running off to sell your daughter's child? You think children are just like a bag of oysters? It's part of her, which makes the child part of us, too. It's our flesh and blood."
"And it's our burden," Daddy said, his determination firmer than I had ever seen. He didn't flinch or retreat from Mama's anger as he usually did. "I know I done right." His courage mounted, his chest pumped. "I'm the man here, see? I make the decisions. You might be the best traiteur in these parts, Catherine, but you're still my wife and that's still my daughter, and what I decide is . . is what will be when it comes to this family, hear?"
"Go to hell, Jack Landry," Mama said. Daddy's face turned so red, I thought the top of his head would explode. He looked at me. I was holding my breath, my eyes so wide, they hurt. It only added to his embarrassment. "Take your bargain back to the devil," Mama hissed.
Daddy didn't retreat.
Mama started toward him, and suddenly he swung his open right palm and caught her on the side of the face. The blow sent her flying against the table. I screamed. Daddy stood there, surprised at what he had done himself. He started to stutter and stammer an apology as Mama shook the dizziness out of her head and stood up to him again. This time she pointed her finger at the door. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper, her voice cold and throaty.
"Get out of my house," she said. "And never set foot in here again or I'll put the blackest curse on your head. I swear by my ancestors."
Daddy's mouth opened and closed. I felt so faint I thought I would collapse on the table myself. He looked at me a moment and then at Mama, but his eyes shifted from hers quickly. It was as if he were looking right into the heart of a blazing fire. He raised his hand as if to block a blow she might throw at him and retreated.
"You'll be sorry you talked to me like that, Catherine. I might just not return," he threatened.
"I'm telling you not to return, ever," she retorted. "Everything that's yours will be on that gallery in less than an hour. You come by and take it away, and with it, your dirty, filthy soul. Get out! Get out!" she shouted.
Daddy turned and pounded over the
floorboards. He slammed the door behind him and marched over the gallery. I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then . . . a deadly, deep silence until I heard his truck engine start.
"I won't come back until you apologize!" he cried, and then the truck spun away.
Mama pivoted and rushed toward the stairway to go upstairs and do what she said she would: gather Daddy's things and put them on the gallery. I heard her rip through the dresser drawers and pull out the clothing from the closet. She heaved it down the stairs and then followed, pounding the stairs with such anger, I was afraid to get in the way. I spoke to her, but she acted as if I weren't even there. It took her only ten minutes to gather everything that belonged to Daddy. She cast it all out the door, just as she had vowed. It was the worst fight ever between them.
And all I could think was I was the cause of it all.
Daddy didn't return for his things that night. I kept waking up, thinking I heard him, but when I listened hard, there was only silence, no footsteps, nothing. Mama had gone to sleep early. She seemed to age years in minutes, and
right before my eyes, too. I remained awake as long as I could, sitting by the front door, and then I went up to bed.