Page 138

He laughed. "Oui, monsieur. He will that."

"See, honey? You can have a nice life, and Monsieur Paxton here says he will start you and Nicolas off with your own home, too. That's a good offer, ain't it?"

"No," I said quickly.

"No?"

Monsieur Paxton's smile evaporated. He looked nervously at Daddy.

"I can't marry Nicolas, Daddy. I don't love him."

"Love him? Hell, girl, you'll learn to love him. Those are the best marriages anyway."

"No, Daddy, please," I said.

"Lookie here," he cried as I moved quickly to the door. "I promised Monsieur Paxton you would--"

"No. Never!" I screamed, and ran inside. I heard Daddy mumble something and then follow. I was terrified. Mama wasn't home.

"How can you say no?" Daddy demanded. "What'cha wanna do, stay here the rest of yer life and play with the animals?"

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life with Nicolas Paxton, Daddy."

"Why not? You listen to me," he said, wagging his long right finger at me, "it's a father's duty to find a suitable husband for his daughter, and I did it. Now, you just march out there and tell Monsieur Paxton you will marry his son, hear?"

"No, Daddy. I won't," I said, shaking my head.

His face turned crimson. "Look how old you are already, and you know why you can't be so choosy," he said. "It's just luck no one else knows, too."

"I won't marry Nicolas, Daddy. I won't."

"Gabriel . . ." He took a step toward me.

"I'd rather die," I declared.

The screen door opened, but I couldn't see past Daddy. He hovered over me like a hawk.

"You put one finger on that girl, Jack Landry, and I'll curse you to hell," Mama declared.

Papa turned quickly and looked at her. "I was just trying to get her a good husband, woman."

"Tell that man to go home, Jack. And give him back whatever he gave you," she added.

"What? Why, he didn't . . ."

"Don't waste your breath on a new lie," Mama said.

Daddy gazed at her for a moment and then at me. He shook his head. "Two chicks from the same egg," he muttered, and went out.

Mama stood there looking at me.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I can't marry Nicolas Paxton." "Then let's not talk any more about it," she declared, and went to put her things away.

Despite what Daddy had tried to do and how much he complained about my refusal to cooperate, the months that followed were the happiest of my life. Daddy finally stopped trying to get me to change my mind and went on about his business, which, more often than not, resulted in some new problem for Mama to solve.

But Pierre and I saw each other more than ever, and every time he appeared, he appeared bearing gifts. Our little love nest filled up with nice things, expensive things: pictures, throw rugs, more clothes for me, and silk robes and slippers for both of us. We ate there more often, poled to the pond, picnicked, made love in the sunlight and in the moonlight, played our music and danced, once until dawn.

Pierre spoke little about his life in New Orleans, occasionally mentioning something he had done with his business, but rarely talking about his wife or his father. I didn't ask questions, although they were always on the tip of my tongue. I knew that they would only bring sadness and pain to him, and we both guarded our pledge to each other religiously. The rule was, anything that would bring sorro