She walked to the window, hesitated a moment, and then jerked the curtains closed as if she thought someone might be spying on us. It darkened the room and her face when she turned slowly back to us. Octavious squirmed in his seat. The dark cherry grandfather clock in the corner bonged the noon hour. While it did, Gladys fixed her eyes on me like a marsh hawk sighting in its prey.
"Who else knows what's happened to you?" she asked sharply.
"Just my mother," I replied. A small smile trembled over her lips as she nodded slightly. Then she swung her gaze at Daddy, her face tightening, her shoulders rising.
"And who else have you told, monsieur?"
"Me?" He looked at Octavious and then back at her. "I just found out about this today, so I ain't had time to tell anyone, but you can be damn sure that I'll talk and talk plenty if—"
"You'll get your money, monsieur," Gladys spit. "Far more than you expected, too."
Daddy's eyes lit up with glee. He sat back and smiled, nodding his head.
"Well, that's more like it. You can't treat folks miserably just because they ain't as rich as you," he said. "You can't just go about abusing and—"
"Spare me the lecture, monsieur," Gladys commanded, her hand up like a traffic policeman. "What my husband has done is terrible, but I'm sure it pales beside some of the things you have done in your life," she declared.
"What? Why, I ain't never been arrested or—"
"Never?" Gladys smiled coolly. Daddy glanced at me and then at her. "It's not important. Nothing you've done or even said matters here. That's not what interests me in all this."
"Well . . . what does?" Daddy cried, his face red with frustration.
"Her," Gladys said, pointing her thin finger at me. She had rings on every finger, but on the forefinger she had a large ruby in a silver setting. Her long, rose red fingernails looked like tiny daggers aimed at my heart. I shuddered, ice sliding down my spine.
"Me?"
"Since no one but your mother and the people in this room know you're pregnant with my husband's baby," she began, "I propose, no, I insist, that you remain here until you give birth to the child."
"What?" Daddy said. "What for she should do that?"
I could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Why would she want to set her eyes on me, much less have me in her presence now?
Gladys turned to Daddy and flashed that oily smile at him again.
"You're so ignorant, you don't even understand what a wonderful thing I am offering your daughter and your family," she said. "Do you think a mere sum of money extorted from us will cure all the problems your daughter, your wife, and even you will endure once she begins to show her unwed pregnancy?"
"Well, no, but . . ."
"What are you proposing to do, Gladys?" Octavious asked in a dry, tried voice. She glared at him in silence for a moment.
"I'm proposing to become pregnant," she said.
"What? I don't understand," Octavious said. He shook his head. "How can you . . ." Then he paused and looked at me, his face lighting with comprehension. "But, Gladys, why do you wish to do this?"
"It's not only these swamp people who will be the talk of the bayou once this is out, Octavious. And do you for a moment think that we can buy this man's silence?" she followed, nodding toward Daddy.
"If I give my word," Daddy began, "you can be—"
"Your word." She threw her head back and laughed and then fired a look of fury at him. "What happens when you go to one of your zydeco haunts and guzzle too much whiskey, monsieur? Will you still keep your word? Do you take me for a fool because my husband . . . my husband has done this dreadful thing?"
"Well," Daddy said. He chewed on his thoughts for a moment, not knowing how to react and not sure yet what it was Gladys Tate was proposing. "I don't think I understand all this."
She croaked a short laugh. "And you think I do?" She raised her eyes toward the ceiling. "Some women drop children like calves in a field all day and all night." She glared at me and then, looking sad, she said, "And some are denied the blessing of their own child because of some quirk in nature." She turned to Octavious. He looked away, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.
"What I am proposing," she continued, glancing at me first, "is that Gabrielle remain here at the house during the entire period of pregnancy. She will live upstairs and no one will know she is here, not even my servants. I will see to it that she is well taken care of until the baby is born and everyone thinks it is mine. In order for that to happen, I will pretend to be pregnant myself and go through all the stages of pregnancy."
"Well, how you gonna do that?" Daddy asked, smiling. "Swallow a watermelon?" He laughed and looked at me. I was too shocked and frightened by her suggestion to move an inch, much less smile or laugh.
Gladys Tate's face went paper white for a moment and then she shot Daddy a stabbing glance.
"Let that be my concern, monsieur, and not yours," she said, her voice resembling a snake's hiss. She straightened her back again and looked at me. "After it's over, Gabrielle can return home and no one will know any of the dreary details. She can go on with her life and be the candidate for marriage to a decent man you hoped she would be."
"What about the baby?" Daddy asked, undaunted.
"The baby," she said after a deep breath. "I told you. Everyone will think the baby is mine. The baby will remain here and be brought up a Tate. He or she is a Tate anyway," she added.
"I don't know," Daddy said, shaking his head. "My wife, she may not put up with this, no. . . ."
"What's the alternative?" she fired. "Your wife will live in utter shame forever, I'm sure. Surely," she said, turning to me, "you don't want your mother to go through the indignity, to be the subject of gossip forever, to have to avoid the looks of others, to know people are whispering about you. Blaming my husband won't be enough to exonerate you, Gabrielle," she charged, nodding at me. "Men will still think you were somewhat responsible, especially when everyone learns you were swimming nude."
I tried to swallow, but my throat lump was like a rock. She kept her eyes fixed on me so intently, I was unable to look away. I couldn't help but think about Mama. Gladys Tate was right. Mama would never show it, but I knew she would feel terrible. Some people would stop using her as a traiteur, and others would treat us like lepers.
"Daddy?" I said after a moment. "I think she might be right."
"What? You saying you want to do this, give up the baby and all?"
I nodded slowly and lowered my head like a flag of defeat. It did seem like a sensible solution to all the problems.
"I don't know. Keeping my daughter like a prisoner, keeping the baby . . ."
"Octavious," Gladys said sharply, and then smiled like a Cheshire cat, "why don't you take Monsieur Landry into the office and discuss the financial considerations, while Gabrielle and I have our own little chat."
Octavious looked at her a moment and then stood up as if he had to lift three times his weight. She pulled him aside at the door and whispered something in his ear that made him crimson.
"Are you crazy?" he said. "He'll just drink it up, waste it."
"That's not our concern," she said. "Monsieur," she added, turning to Daddy. He glanced at me and then rose slowly.
"This ain't a done deal," he said. "Not till I hear what they have to offer, hear, Gabrielle?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good." He exchanged a look with Gladys Tate, but she couldn't be intimidated. He knew it and followed Octavious out of the room and to the office. Gladys Tate closed the door behind them and took a seat in the high-back chair. She rested her arms over the chair arms and kept her back straight. To me she looked regal. Even though we were on the same level, I felt as if I were gazing up at her or she were looking down at me.
"I assume," she began, "that this will be your first baby."
"Oh, of course, madame."
She sneered. "You want to sit there and tell me you were a virgin when my husband made love to you?"
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"But it's true, madame."
She stared a moment, her eyes blinking quickly. "Perhaps it is," she said in what I thought was a much sadder, deeper voice. She sighed and looked toward the shaded windows. "It is my fault, me," she said, and brought her lace silk handkerchief to her eyes. "He can obviously make a baby. I'm having trouble."
"I'm sorry, madame."
She spun on me as if she just realized I had heard her words, and her eyes turned crystal-hard.
"I don't want your pity, thank you. What were you doing out there in the pond? Setting a trap for him?"
"What?"
She nodded, her smile slight and twisted. "Bathing in the nude, knowing he was poling nearby, a good-looking, rich man . . ."
"No, madame. I swear."
She grunted and tightened her face again, her skin resembling the surface of an alabaster statue. Then she took a deep breath. "I meant what I told your father: Despite what Octavious has done, this is more of a favor for you and your family than it is for me."
"I know, madame."
"In order for this to work, you will have to obey my every command and be very, very cooperative. It will not be pleasant for me, but it will especially not be pleasant for you for the next six or seven months. You will have to endure loneliness and be quieter than a church mouse. Can you do that?"
"I hope so. I think so, madame."
"I hope so, too. If you disobey me just once," she said, "I'll throw you out and leave you to explain your big stomach, understand? It will be messy, but I think I can convince people around here that you made it all up, despite your mother's good reputation. I have money, friends in high places. People depend on my factory for a living. Whose side do you think they will all take? A poor Cajun girl's or mine?"
I didn't reply. She knew the answer.
"So will you obey my rules?" she pursued.
"Yes, madame. But surely I will be able to see my mother."
"Infrequently and very secretly. What I will do," Gladys Tate thought aloud, "is let it be known I am using a traiteur for my own pregnancy. People will believe she is coming here to see me, but you can see no friends, no other visitors, is that clear?"
"Yes, madame. But where will I stay?"
"I will show you your quarters when you return. I want you to return at night, tonight, in fact. Come at midnight. The house will be quiet. I'll have my butler away, and the maids will, of course, be asleep. Just come to the door. Bring very little. You understand?"
"Oui, madame."
"Good," she said, and rose.
I stood. "I am sorry for all this," I said. "Despite what you might think, I did not want it."
"What I think doesn't matter. What has happened and what we can do to repair the damage to my family and yours is all that matters," she lectured.
I nodded. Was she really so generous, so big of heart, to be able to forgive her husband and plan such a solution? I was hopeful, even grateful, but I didn't like the way her eyes skipped away when I tried to catch them. Was it because she didn't want me to see how deep the pain in her was? Or how deep the thirst for vengeance was?
She opened the door and called to Octavious and Daddy. Daddy came in first, and by the look of delight on his face, I saw he was satisfied with the offer he had gotten.
"Is everything settled?" Gladys asked Octavious. He nodded unhappily.
"I got to get back to work," he said.
"Yes, sir, you go back to work," Daddy told him, and patted him on the back. "I don't want you going bankrupt. Not now." He winked at me. "Come on, Gabrielle. We got to tell your mother what we decided here."
"I told her I want her back here at midnight tonight," Gladys said. "She's to come to the front door herself, understand, monsieur?"
"Sure. What's there to understand?" Daddy said. Then he scowled. "If I hear you don't treat her right, the deal's off," he countered.
She simply smirked. It was as if a fly had threatened an alligator.
"Remember," she told me. "No one is to know and you are to bring very little."
"Yes, madame."
Octavious left first. Daddy stood in the entryway a moment and gazed around, nodding.
"Not a bad place to be living in for a few months, eh, Gabrielle? I'm sure you'll have good things to eat and all."
"Yes, Daddy. Let's go," I urged. He sauntered to the door and then turned on Gladys.
"Don't think any of this makes it all right. It's still a crime, what he done."
Gladys didn't change expression, but her eyes full of accusations shifted to me. I opened the door and stepped out quickly, Daddy following with a wide grin. But when we got into the truck and started away, he stopped smiling.
"You got to help me convince your mama about this, Gabrielle. She's gonna think it's some plan I hatched to make more money. You be sure to tell her it was Gladys Tate's idea, not mine, hear?"
"I will, Daddy."
"Good," he said. And then, thinking about the money, he did break into a wide smile again.
"Is it a lot of money?" I asked.
"What? Oh. Well, not as much as I would have liked, but it will do fine. make sure your mother has a bundle to stash and then I'll buy us some things for the house and maybe even a new truck and tools for me so I can get more work."
"That's good, Daddy," I said. I gazed back at the mansion and thought at least something good has come out of this terrible thing.
Mama said nothing for a few long, heavy. moments. She listened to what Daddy told her, spewing it all in nearly one breath, and then she looked at me and got up from the table to go stand by a window. The plank shutters were open and the breeze blew the cheesecloth we had hung over it so that it flapped about her.
"I don't like it," she finally said. "It don't sound natural, her pretending to be having a baby and all."
"What?" Daddy's eyes bulged as he floundered. "Here we are getting all this money, Gabrielle don't have to walk in broad daylight with her stomach out a mile and take the stares and gossip, and there's a good place for the baby, and you don't like it?"
"Most women I know wouldn't be so gracious about it and want to keep the child as their own, Jack."
"Well, look at the women you know. They ain't got her class. Am I right, Gabrielle?" he asked, and nodded. "Go on, tell her."
"I think it's for the best, Mama. She told me so far she hasn't been able to get pregnant. She blames herself, and I think that's why she's not so hard on Octavious and why she wants to keep the baby."
Mama stared at me a moment. "You understand quite a lot for a young woman, Gabrielle. You're growing up so fast," she said, shaking her head. "But it ain't right this way."
"What you complaining about now, woman? That the child got good sense? Well, she inherited it from you," Daddy offered.
"That, I believe, Jack Landry," she said, fixing her eyes on him. "How much money did they offer you? Come on, tell me quick and no lies."
"Five thousand dollars!" he said. "How's that?"
Mama was impressed, but she still shook her head sadly. "Blood money," she said. "I don't feel right taking it, Jack."
"Well, you're not taking it. I'm taking it," he said. "And it's just your luck I see fit to give some of it to you and do things around here you wanted me to do," he added.
"It's still the same as if I took it."
"Gabrielle," he cried, throwing up his hands. "Will you talk sense into this mother of yours? I'm about outta steam."
"Mama, it's the best solution and at least something good will come from it. Gladys Tate is going to let you visit me, pretending you're treating her."
"What will I tell people about your not being here?" she asked, relenting somewhat.
"You'll tell them she went to visit my brother's family in Beaumont," Daddy suggested. "That'll do just fine, no?"
"No. My friends know I would never let her go visit a Landry," Mama replied. "I'm not a good liar anyway. Don't have your experience, Jack."
"Then don't say no
thing. It ain't none of their business anyhow."
"You can tell them I went to visit with your aunt Haddy, Mama. I've always wanted to visit her anyway. It's almost not a lie."
Mama laughed. "You're getting to sound like him," she said, but kept her smile. She walked over to me and stroked my hair and then kissed my forehead. "Poor child. You don't deserve this. It wasn't your fault, but it isn't the first time and it won't be the last something unfair happens in this world. You sure you want to do this?"
"Yes, Mama."
She took a deep breath with her hand on her heart. "You just promise me if you're not happy, you'll come home no matter what, Gabrielle."
"I promise, Mama."
She sat again. "When you supposed to go?"
"Tonight at midnight," I said. She looked frightened, her eyes growing glassy. "It will be fine, Mama."
She bit down on her lower lip and nodded, swallowing back her tears. It made my chest ache.
I went upstairs to choose the few things I would bring with me. I decided to take the pictures of Mama and Daddy when they were first married. I packed some underthings, two nightgowns, three dresses, another pair of moccasins, some ribbons for my hair, my combs and brushes. While I was choosing things, Mama prepared a package that contained her homemade soap, some herbs she wanted me to take with my meals, and a small statue of Saint Medad. I put some books and magazines in my bag and a pad and pen for writing my journals and doodling. I was sure Gladys Tate would give me other things to do when I asked. I could embroider and weave to pass the time.
That evening Mama prepared one of my favorite meals: her crawfish etouffée. She kept busy to keep from worrying and made some lace cookies. Daddy had gone to town to shop for some of the things he was planning to buy with the money. He returned with a box of chocolates and a bottle of French toilet water for Mama. It had been a while since I had seen him so buoyant and happy. He cleaned himself up for dinner and wore his best shirt and pants. As we ate, he rattled on and on about things we should do in the house.
"What'cha say we buy a new stove, Catherine?"
"The one I have is fine, Jack."
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