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"You ain't cuttin' me outta this," he threatened, waving his long right forefinger at us. "You ain't. I'll be back," he muttered, and kept mumbling as he left the gallery. The moment he was gone, Mama turned on me.

"How did he find out? How did the Dumas family find out you changed your mind, Gabriel?"

"I'm sorry, Mama. I had hoped to take care of everything myself. I didn't want to cause you any more trouble."

"I had a inkling in my bones when I come home from Maddie Baldwin's the other night. Did you lie to me, Gabriel? Was Pierre here?"

"No, Mama." I paused and then added, "But his wife was."

"His wife?" She sat on the overstuffed chair, her face full of amazement.

"We talked a long time in her limousine and I saw she was sincere about becoming a mother. She made sense to me and opened my eyes to reality, Mama."

"His wife came pleading for you to give them the child?" she asked with disbelief.

"Yes, Mama."

She shook her head. "She wasn't embarrassed?"

"I suppose she was, Mama, but she's a very dignified and sophisticated lady. I saw how much the baby would be offered living with the Dumas family and 'how hard things would be for us here. Besides, that's a family that's suffered a lot of tragedy, Mama. Pierre's baby might just be the medicine to cure some of the sadness and give them hope."

"After what you've been through, I know how you wanted to keep your child, Gabriel."

"I got to do what's best for the baby, though, don't I, Mama?"

She was silent a moment and then she fixed her wise eyes on me. "What really made you change your mind about the baby, Gabriel? I'm sure it wasn't just because they have all that money."

"No."

"Well?" Mama pursued.

"Madame Dumas said something that made me question why I wanted the baby so much, Mama. She said if I thought by keeping the baby, I was keeping a hold on Pierre, I was wrong."

Mama nodded.

"And then I thought, if I was doing that, I was being selfish and not thinking of the baby as much as I was thinking of myself. No bird, no nutria, not even an alligator, thinks of itself before it thinks of its babies."

Mama smiled. "I used to worry about your being out there in the swamp so much, but I see you got the best education from the best teacher," she said. She thought a moment. "That man will be back to be sure he gets his money. Keep him out of my sight.

"I know what I'll do," she said, and went to her cupboard to get a statue of the Virgin Mary. She took it outside and set it down in the middle of the top step. "The moment he sees that," she predicted, "he'll stop dead in his tracks."

Now that I had made my decision about the baby, a weight seemed to be lifted from my shoulders. However, my world still remained changed, and as time went by, I became even less and less energetic, dozing and sleeping longer and more frequently. My swelling continued. Mama had me taking different herbal drinks, but I still bloated and looked twice as big as I had during my first pregnancy at every step of the way. Mama was disappointed that none of this lessened during my second trimester when a pregnant woman usually felt better.

But Mama was heavily involved and distracted by Maddie Baldwin's delivery at the start of my own seventh month. Just as she had predicted, Maddie had a hard time of it, and after the baby was born, Mama said it was a very sickly infant. She didn't think he would last a week. Six days later, the baby died. It laid a heavy pall over everything we both did for days afterward. Mama always blamed herself, thinking there was something she could have done, something she could have added to the treatment and diet.

It seemed we were stuck on a merry-go-round of sadness these days, all the gloom somehow finding its way to our doorstep. It was like being in a storm that would never end. And then, a little more than two weeks later, a ray of sunshine broke through the clouds of despair.

I had finished eating a little lunch. There was the usual afternoon lull, but a wave of high clouds kept it from being too hot, and there was a cool breeze from the Gulf. So I decided to take a walk along the canal. I had stopped looking for it so long, I almost missed it when I turned the corner toward the path, but there on the dock post was Pierre's blue cravat. The surprise almost had me paralyzed. For a moment I thought I was seeing things; I was a victim of my own vivid, hungry imagination, but when I drew closer, I realized it was true.

I felt an aching in my heart, making it thud louder, making my blood race. As quickly as I could, I went to my canoe. My hands shook with excitement when I grasped the pole. My legs were trembling. I hadn't poled my pirogue for some time now and my palms had grown soft. The pole burned my skin because of my hurried efforts, but I could think of nothing else but Pierre. As the canoe moved toward the Daisys' dock, I turned and gazed ahead in anticipation, impatient with the few minutes it would take to bring me closer.

I didn't see him on the landing, but after I tied the canoe and stepped out, I saw him sitting on a wooden box right in the middle of the debris.

"Pierre!" I cried, and he turned. He stood slowly and looked my way. He was wearing a light blue suit, but he was also wearing his palmetto hat. He looked tanned and healthy and never more handsome. He started toward me and I quickened my pace, nearly stumbling over the overgrown weeds. In moments we were in each other's arms.

"Gabriel, my Gabriel," he said, and followed it with his lips over my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and then against my lips. "I'm sorry," he said as he held me to him, raining kisses. "I'm sorry."

"Where have you been, Pierre? Why didn't you come to me before this?" I asked, my eyes flooding with tears of happiness.