Page 69

"She grew up in the bayou, and as I said, we once lived in the mansion. I don't know what she's looking for or what she hopes to do, but we know she's around here someplace. She's very confused; she could have gone anywhere. We're very worried about her."

"We haven't seen her, but I'll keep a watchful eye."

I opened my purse, took a picture of my mother and me out of my wallet, and handed it to him. "That's her," I said.

"Beautiful woman. You look just like her."

"If you do see her, will you call me?"

"Of course. Give me your number." He took a pencil out of his top pocket and wrote my telephone number on the inside of his hand. "I'll copy it onto a piece of paper later," he said smiling. "Or I might just never wash and leave it there forever." He smiled softly.

"Hey, Jack," one of the workers called out, "what are you doing, conducting private tours now?" He followed his question with a laugh. Jack glared at him furiously.

"I shouldn't be taking you away from your work," I said, backing away and turning toward the house.

"Oh, no. It's all right. I'm on a break. Don't mind him. These guys are great kidders, but there's no better group to be part of. Riggers stand by each other. We're tight."

We started walking back.

"Is your father still working, too?" I asked him.

"No. He retired, but he still lives in the bayou. He spends all his time in his pirogue, fishing. I've only been to New Orleans twice," he said. "Once when I was just twelve and then again on my twenty-first birthday five years ago. My whole family went--me, my parents, and my two sisters. City life is sure different. All that racket and straining your neck to see the sun and stars."

I laughed. "It's not that bad where we live."

"You live in a house as big as that?" he said nodding toward the mansion.

"No, but it's big," I admitted.

"My father says people who live in the city probably want big houses because they want to be inside most of the time rather than in the dirty streets."

I laughed again. "We have beautiful grounds. The area is called the Garden District, and it's not really city life."

"That's good, but I'd still miss the open skies, the animals, and all this nature," he said.

"It is beautiful here," I admitted. "I know my mother missed it."

Jack paused and put his hand over his eyes to shade them from the sunlight. "Looks like your father's waving for you," he said, pointing, and I looked toward the trailer where Daddy was standing. He appeared disturbed. Maybe he learned something about Mommy, I thought and hurried along.

"Jeanne hasn't seen or heard from her," he said. "We can't stay and look any longer. I called the house."

"And . . . ?"

"Pierre's gotten worse. The doctor wants him back in the hospital immediately."

"Oh, Daddy."

We hugged. I saw Jack standing to the side, his helmet in his hand, watching. "I'm sorry for your trouble," he said when I went to say good-bye.

"My other brother took the loss of his twin very hard. He's in a catatonic state and won't eat or drink."

"On top of all that, you have this problem with your mother. I wish I could do more."

"Keep an eye out for her," I whispered.

"I promise I will," he said. "Bye."

I joined Daddy at the car. He sat there for a moment looking at the mansion.