Tarnished Gold l-5

by V. C. Andrews

  He didn't rush to put his manliness inside me. It was as if he knew what I had experienced under the gritty, violent pawing of Octavious Tate, as if he knew I had to be brought back to a virgin state first and then, gently, affectionately, lovingly, taken on that ride young women dream about from the first day they realize what can happen between them and some loving man. It all happened now the way it was meant to happen. That horrible violation of me was erased with every tender caress, every word of love whispered.

  When we coupled on the bed, we paused and gazed for a long moment into each other's eyes. It was then that I realized the act of love could be the ultimate confirmation of our deepest feelings for each other. We weren't taking from each other as much as we were giving to each other. I could hear Pierre's thoughts, hear his plea: "Come with me, soar with me, for these precious moments forget everything but us. We are the world to each other; we are the sun for each other; we are the stars."

  It was wonderful to surrender myself completely and feel him submerge his identity completely into me. We were, as the poets say, one.

  Afterward we lay beside each other, tingling, still touching each other with our lips as well as our fingers.

  "This is our secret place," Pierre said. "No one must know. I will come to you as often, as many times, as I can for as long as I am able," he promised.

  "But how, Pierre? You are married."

  "My wife and I live separate lives right now. She is content being the queen of the block, one of New Orleans's royalty, a princess of the city. Her friends are not my friends. I do not enjoy the affairs she attends and the people with whom she surrounds herself. They are all . . . fops, dandies, artificial men and women who lie to each other and to themselves continually and then whisper behind each other's backs. But Daphne enjoys the games, enjoys being the center of things, being kowtowed to and catered to and treated like the blue blood she believes she is."

  "But, Pierre;is it not sinful what we are doing?" I couldn't help thinking about Mama now and all her warnings. "Tell me that love makes this all right," I moaned, the tears burning beneath my eyelids.

  "Shh." He put his finger on my lips and then kissed the tip of my nose and smiled. "Yes, darling Gabrielle. Love does make this all right, especially a true love, for love like ours must be divinely inspired, blessed. It's too wonderful to be created by the devil and it's too pure. I love you without lust, but with affection; I love you without selfishness, but with only the hope to make you happy."

  "But what if you're eventually discovered here? What if . . ."

  "I would risk everything I have a hundred times," he pledged, "because what I have means nothing without you."

  He kissed me and held me, and before we dressed to leave our secret place, we made love again. Afterward we returned to the pirogue and Pierre took me close to my shack home, but far enough away to leave me off unnoticed. We kissed and held each other.

  "I will return as soon as I can," he said. "I'll get word to you and you will find me there, waiting. Let every day become an hour, every hour become a minute, so I can see you sooner," he said, and kissed me again before pushing off. I watched him pole away, my apparition, my dream lover, until he was gone behind a bend.

  It did feel more like an illusion than an actual event. I had to pinch myself to convince myself I was living this and not asleep on some rock conjuring the images. I walked on air, my heart full of contentment, but as I drew closer to the shack, I heard Mama and Daddy arguing about money. I paused by the window and listened.

  She claimed he had gambled away what he had, and he swore it all went to expenses. He wanted her to give him what she had put aside, but she refused.

  "I ain't helping you pay your new gambling debt, Jack. Gabrielle and I worked hard for the little we've put away, and we ain't watching it get washed down some ditch, along with everything else you own."

  "Ahh. You listen to me," Daddy said in a deep, threatening voice.

  Suddenly Mama wailed and then I heard her cry for Saint Medad. She followed that with a string of gibberish only she understood, and a moment later, Daddy came rushing out of the house, his hair wild, his face flushed, his eyes bulging with fear. He practically leaped into his truck and drove off.

  When I entered the house, Mama was collapsed in her rocker, her head down so that her chin touched her chest.

  "Mama!" I cried, going quickly to her side and kneeling to hold her hand.

  She lifted her head slowly. "I'm all right. I thought it was him returning," she said with a cold smile. Then her face saddened. "It's too bad I have to revert to mumbo-jumbo and superstition to keep him under control.

  "I got our money buried all over this place, Gabrielle, in places he ain't never going to find. It's better he don't know how much we have stored or he'll take it and leave us high and dry while he goes off on another bender. What he ain't got, he can't lose," she concluded.

  "I'm sorry, Mama," I said. "I thought he was doing so much better."

  "He was, but he's not constant; he'll never be dependable, I'm afraid. But," she said, rising, "we've got to make do with what we have now, don't we? I'll see to our dinner."

  "Do you still love him, Mama?" I asked. I wondered how it would be possible, especially after being with Pierre and seeing how wonderful real love could be. Mama paused and thought a moment and then tweaked her lips into a tiny smile.

  "Sometimes, when he's like he was, I feel the pitter-patter again. But," she said with a deep sigh, "it don't last."

  It wasn't until that moment, until I had traveled on my own cloud of ecstasy and seen what love and true passion could be, that I fully understood Mama's burden and felt truly sorry for her. I wished I could tell her, but I knew if I uttered a single word that suggested anything, she would forbid me to leave the house and find a way to drive Pierre from my life quickly. Some secrets, I thought, were necessary, but I believed, I hoped, that maybe there would be a time when they wouldn't be.

  Of course, I was still very young and had no idea how dark the future could be. Only Mama knew that; only she had the vision. For the moment I didn't want her to look into my future. I'd rather be like one of my swamp turtles and pull in my head until the storms passed. The question was, did I have as hard a shell with which to protect myself?

  Daddy surprised us by not getting drunk and staying away as he usually did whenever he got into a row with Mama. He returned home that night, sober, and he was up early the next morning.

  "I got me an important job today," he said when I came down to the kitchen. "Those rich people from New Orleans you were asking about the other day sent word they were returning for another hunting trip."

  "Monsieur Dumas?" I said after a slight gasp.

  "Oui. I'm buying a new pirogue because they're bringing a few more with them," he told me. "Got me a loan yesterday. I have to pay a lot of interest because someone won't lend me the money without interest," he added, glaring at Mama. She pretended not to hear him complain. "Anyway, they're bringing me the canoe today," he said. "You can break it in for me, Gabrielle. Take it out and put it through the paces, hear?"

  "Yes, Daddy." I tried to contain my excitement. Would Pierre appear with his father? Would he be back that much sooner? How would I act? Would I reveal our secret love? Would Mama sense something even if I did nothing?

  Late one morning toward the end of the week, three big cars appeared and the men from New Orleans stepped out. My heart skipped a beat. I had been waiting with a feverish insanity since I had awoken, but I wasn't disappointed. Pierre was among them.

  Earlier we had had a downpour, but now the feather-brushed storm clouds were far off on the horizon and the sun had already dried the leaves and the grass. Daddy greeted Monsieur Dumas excitedly, and Monsieur Dumas introduced Daddy to the other hunters. As they spoke, Pierre remained in the background, glancing my way from time to time with a tiny smile on his lips. Because of the hour at which they arrived, it was decided Mama and I would feed the men first. Th
ey sat at our outside tables and we brought our shrimp etouffée, duck and oyster gumbo, Mama's homemade bread, and wine. It was an exquisite torture for me to serve Pierre without revealing my true feelings for him. I tried not to look at him because I felt the eyes of all the men on me.

  "Your daughter is quite pretty, monsieur," Pierre's father remarked to Daddy. He grunted, looked at me as if just realizing I was there, and smiled. I felt a rush of color rise up my neck and into my face. I glanced quickly at Pierre and then looked down.

  "She's going to be a great belle," Daddy said between gulps of food.

  "Going to be? You would have to be blind not to see that she already is. How old are you, mademoiselle?" Pierre's father asked me.

  "Nineteen, monsieur."

  "Nineteen? Seems a pity to waste her talents here," one of the other rich men commented.

  "She's not being wasted," Mama retorted sharply, and he lost his lusty smile quickly. Daddy scowled and Mama ordered me to bring something into the house.

  Soon afterward, they prepared for their hunting trip in the swamps, all of them slipping into their hip-high boots. They checked their shotguns, with Daddy complimenting them on their fine equipment.

  Pierre was going along this time, but before he got into the pirogue, he paused beside me, squeezed my hand surreptitiously, and whispered, "I'm going to remain behind at our secret place afterward. I've already arranged it."

  "But your father . . ."

  "Don't worry about him. Don't worry about anything. Can you come tonight?"

  "Yes," I promised.

  "Don't worry," he said, smiling as he started away, "I won't kill anything. I'm even a worse shot now that I've met you than I was before."

  I laughed and turned to rush back to help Mama clean up. When I did, I saw her gazing at me from a window. Between the batten plank shutters, her face was as dark and as sad as one who just had seen the end of the world.

  12

  Following My Heart

  Mama said nothing to me; her eyes did all the talking as she prepared our dinner and as we ate, flashing disappointment and sadness my way. Daddy didn't notice anything for a while. He was still beaming from the successful hunting trip and the good money he had made.

  "To think I wasted all that time working for someone else," he lectured. "No one's ever going to take advantage of Jack Landry again and treat me like some swamp slave," he vowed. "No sir, I got respect. I think I might just invest in another building, a real boathouse, and eventually hire me an assistant," he continued, building steam as he rambled on. "I'll advertise my place in the papers, maybe even the New Orleans papers. We'll fix up this shack, put on new siding, do up the grounds, make it more presentable."

  He paused and gazed at Mama. "What you so quiet about, Catherine? Ain't you happy about the money I gave you and how well we're doin'?"

  "I'm happy, Jack," she said quickly. "I just don't want to hear any promises and pledges that ain't going to be kept," she warned.

  "You see that, Gabrielle? She says that after all I've done already. A Cajun man ain't got a chance with a Cajun woman. They're the stubbornest, most ornery females this side a hell. You give a Cajun woman an inch of rope and she'll stretch it into enough to hang you upside down from the nearest cypress and leave you dangling till the blood drips out of your hair." He ran his long fingers through his strands and then held out his palms. "Look here, it's happening to me already."

  "Go on with you, Jack Landry," Mama said with a tight smile. "You look abused now, don't you?"

  "I'm abused because I ain't appreciated enough," he complained.

  Mama lifted her eyes to the ceiling as if to ask for divine guidance and then shook her head.

  "Your mama's pretty though, Gabrielle. That's why I grin and bear it," he said.

  "Go on with you, Jack Landry."

  "Pour me a little more of your good wine, Catherine," Daddy said with a different sort of look in his eyes. "It's time you and me did some celebratin'."

  "I'll decide when it's time for that," Mama said, but she poured the wine and then flashed another sorry look my way. I finished eating and cleared the table.

  "Let's us go for a little ride, Catherine Landry," Daddy suggested. "Like we usta," he added with a wink. It was the first time I could remember seeing Mama blush. She looked away quickly and went to fetch a light shawl.

  "We won't be gone long," Mama told me.

  "We'll see about that," Daddy said. "We might just stop to look at the moon over the dam at Samson's Landing."

  "Hush up, Jack Landry, you fool," Mama snapped. Daddy laughed, put his arm around her waist, and hurried her out. She gazed back at me with a look of warning in her eyes, but Daddy rushed her into the truck before she could add a word. I heard them drive off, and the moment I was alone, my heart began to pound.

  I completed cleaning up from dinner and then went quickly down to the dock to get into my canoe. The thumping in my chest was so hard and so fast, I almost couldn't pole and I was terrified I would lose my breath and fall out again. But I moved swiftly along the bank, and before long, saw the Daisys' old landing. There was just a sliver of moon tonight, and even that was blocked most of the time by thick layers of dark clouds rolling in from the Gulf. The cicadas were louder than ever, accompanied by a chorus of bullfrogs. A night heron landed on the dock before I arrived and strutted around for a moment before sailing off into the darkness.

  From the dock I could see the tiny light of the butane lantern in the shack's rear window. It flickered like a candle. I hesitated, embraced myself and gazed into the darkness around and behind me. Everything felt forbidden; Mama had cast a blanket of taboo over the world with her dark gaze tonight. But inside the shack, the love of my life waited to feel my lips on his. His dazzling eyes danced on the inside of my lids whenever I closed them, and his voice was in the gentle breeze that lifted the strands of my hair and tickled the inside of my ears. I heard him calling, "Gabrielle . Gabrielle." I could practically feel his hand around mine, leading me, pulling me along, urging me to be at his side.

  He didn't come out to greet me before I reached the shack, and when I opened the door slowly and stepped into the darkness, I didn't hear or see him. Maybe it wasn't Pierre; maybe someone else was in the shack.

  "Pierre?" I called. There was no response; nothing but the drumming of my own heart against my chest. "Pierre?" I walked in farther, reaching the steps and listening. "Pierre?"

  "Gabrielle," I finally heard from the darkness above. "I'm up here, waiting for you."

  My body trembled so. I had to hold on to the railing as I ascended. Slowly, wrapped in the darkness myself, I approached the doorway of the bedroom and gazed in at him, bathed in the dim light of the butane lantern. He was naked on our bed, his body gleaming.

  "I shouldn't have come," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "I should have resisted."

  "You might as well try to hold your breath forever," he replied. "We can't refuse what our hearts desire. Gabrielle, come to me," he said, holding out his arms.

  Resembling someone under hypnosis, I walked slowly, my legs feeling as if they glided on air to the bed. It was his idea that we not touch each other, not kiss, not caress, not even brush each other with our breaths for a while. He lay back as I undressed in the yellow glow of the small lantern. Then he shifted to the opposite side of the bed and I lay down, my head on the pillow, my eyes fixed on him. We gazed at each other, both our hearts pounding, the blood rushing through our bodies.

  Every part of me longed to be touched. My lips tingled in anticipation. He smiled and brought his hand to within an inch of my breasts, moving over the air between us as if he were caressing me. I moaned, closed my eyes, and waited.

  "It's exquisite, this torture," he said.

  I squirmed, moaned again, and ran the tip of my tongue over my lips in anticipation of his kiss.

  "Every inch between us is like a mile," he said. "Now you know how painful it is for me to return to New Orl
eans and what it is like for me to look out of my window toward the bayou and think of you."

  I had come hoping to have the strength to refuse him, but now it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself at him.

  "Gabrielle," he finally said, and brought his lips closer and closer until we finally kissed. It was the most tingling, exciting kiss between us yet. I held him harder and tighter than he held me and then we touched and brought our bodies together. Our lovemaking was more frantic this time. It was as if we had driven each other mad by teasing each other with our desire. I didn't want it to end, and when it threatened to do so, I cried out and demanded more, digging my fingers into his shoulders and hips.

  He laughed and we made love until both our bodies shone with sweat, our hearts ready to burst, our lungs unable to keep up with the demand for air. Gasping, but happier than ever, we lay back, our heads beside each other, his arm around my shoulders, and waited to catch enough breath to speak.

  "Can you ever doubt my love for you?" he asked. "No more than I can doubt my own for you."

  "Good. Then let there be no more talk of resisting."

  I curled up in the warm nook of his arm and listened as he described what it was like for him anticipating our rendezvous, planning it around his father's trip.

  "We were so busy, I didn't know when we would be able to get back here, but my father was almost as anxious as I was."

  "No one will miss you at home when they see you haven't returned with him?" I asked, meaning his wife.

  "I'm on a business trip as far as anyone knows. It's not uncommon for me to do that, but I think my father has some suspicions."