Tarnished Gold

2

Paradise Lost

I was positive that Daddy's not coming home all night was the only thing that kept Mama from noticing that something serious was bothering me the next morning. Mama had been out late treating Mrs. LaFourche, who Mama believed had eaten a few bad shrimp, so Mama was pretty tired and irritable anyway. She rose, expecting to find Daddy either sprawled out on the front galerie or on the floor of our living room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Mama didn't notice that I ate very little breakfast or that I was quiet and tired myself. I had tossed and turned, flitting in and out of nightmares most of the night. But Mama ranted and raved to herself, raking up old complaints about Daddy, criticizing not only his excessive drinking and gambling, but his laziness.

"All the Landrys were lazy," she lectured, returning to an old theme. "It's in their blood. I should have know'd what your father would be like right from the start. Oh, he charmed me in the beginning by building this house and working hard for a while, but he was only setting me up the way the Landry men always set up their women, so he could throw it back at me all the time about just how much he done for me already.

"Like being a husband and a father was a nine-to-five job," she complained. "But being a mother and a wife was a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week job. That's the way the Landry men see it.

"Before you marry anyone, Gabrielle, you ask to see his grandpère, and if his grandmère's still living, you talk to her and get the lowdown, hear?" she warned.

"Yes, Mama."

She finally took note of me, but she attributed other reasons to my appearance.

"Look at you," she remarked, "nervous as a just-hatched chicken with your graduation just a day away now."

"I'm fine, Mama."

"I can't wait to see them hand you that diploma."

She beamed, her smile washing away her scarlet face of anger.

"You're the first Landry to get a high school diploma, you know that?" she asked. Daddy hadn't told me, but she had said it a few times before in his presence when she blamed some of the things he had done on his family blood.

"Yes, Mama."

"Good. Then be proud, not nervous. Well now, we'll have to plan a little celebration for afterward, won't we?"

"No, Mama. I don't want a party."

"Sure you do. Sure," she said, nodding and talking herself into it. "I'm going to make a couple of turkeys, and I think I'll make Louisiana yam with apple stuffing. I know how you love that. Of course, we'll have some stuffed crab and some shrimp Mornay with red and green rice. I'll make some garlic grits. need some biscuits, and let's see, for desserts we should have a gingerbread, one of my coffee cakes, and maybe some caramel squares."

"Mama, you'll be working all day and night until graduation."

"So? How often will I have a graduation party for my daughter?" she said.

"But we don't have the money, do we?"

"I got a small stash your daddy didn't get his hands on," she said, winking.

"You should save it for something important, Mama."

"This is is important," she insisted. "Now hush up and go to school. Go on," she said, pushing me toward the door, "and don't you worry about how hard I work or how much I spend. I got to do what I enjoy doing and what makes me happy and proud. Especially these days," she added, scowling with thoughts of Daddy.

I shook my head. There wasn't anything I could do or say to change her mind once Mama had made up what she wanted to do. Daddy called her Cajun stubborn and said she would stare down a hurricane if she had made up her mind to do so.

"I'll come home as soon as I can to help you then," I said.

"Never mind. You do what all the girls are doing and worry about your graduation ceremony, not me," she said.

I left the house, still feeling a cloud overhead because of what had happened to me the day before; but also feeling the excitement that came with the end of school. At school no one talked about anything else. The chatter in the classroom was so loud and furious, we sounded like a yard of hens clucking. Our teachers gave up on doing anything that even vaguely resembled education.

In the afternoon they took us out to the yard on the side of the building where a portable stage had been constructed so we could rehearse the graduation ceremony. A piano had been wheeled out for Mrs. Parlange, the school secretary, to play the processional. Our principal, Mr. Pitot, was going to accompany her on the accordion, too. Together with Mr. Ternant, who was the vocal, physical education, and math teacher, and who played the fiddle, Mr. Pitot would do a few Cajun pieces to entertain the audience of grandparents, parents, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, and friends before the speeches and the distribution of diplomas. Mr. Ternant was put in charge of the ceremony and lined us up according to height. He told us how to walk, hold our heads up high, and sit properly on the stage.

"I don't want to see anyone crossing his or her legs. And no gum chewing, hear? You all sit still, face forward, and look dignified. Every one of you is a representative of this school," he lectured. Bobby Slater made a popping sound with his mouth. Many of us smiled, but no one dared laugh. Mr. Ternant glared fiercely for a moment. Then he explained what we had to do when we were called up.

"I want you to take the diploma in this hand"—he demonstrated—"and cross over to shake like this."

He wanted us to then turn to the audience and make a small bow before returning directly to our seats.

I tried to concentrate on everything and listen carefully to all the instructions, but my mind kept wandering and returning to the incident at the lake. Yvette and Evelyn were too occupied with themselves and with their other friends to notice my distraction. I knew anyone who did notice me just thought it was my typical disinterest in things that interested them. It wasn't so. I wanted to be just as excited; I wanted to be just as young and silly and happy as they were. But every once in a while, Mr. Tate's face, just inches from mine, would flash across my eyes and I would gulp and moan softly to myself.

I was very quiet on the way home; however, Yvette and Evelyn were far more talkative than ever. A twilight gloom had pervaded my entire being, but even if I had wanted to talk, they didn't give me an opportunity to get in a word. It wasn't until we were about to part that they noticed me.

"What's wrong with you today?" Yvette asked. "Graduation jitters?"

"A little," I said. I could never even begin to tell them the true reason for my melancholy.

"Well, if you had a future waiting, you wouldn't be so jittery," Evelyn declared pedantically. "Now what are you going to do the day after tomorrow, sit on the side of the road at your stand and wait for some handsome prince to come riding along?"

Yvette laughed.

"Yes," I said, smiling. "That's exactly what I will do." "Well, you'll grow old waiting for a handsome prince in these parts," Yvette said.

The two of them looked at each other in a way that told me they had been talking about me at length.

"Don't you even think about being with a man?" Evelyn asked, flashing a sly glance at Yvette.

"Of course," I said, but with less enthusiasm than either of them would.

"You never talk about it when we talk about it," Yvette added. "We know you never been kissed," she said, shifting her gaze to Evelyn, who smiled. "Much less . . . touched." They giggled.

"You two don't know everything about me," I said, but in a sad, unfortunate tone of voice. It wiped the smiles off their faces for the moment. Yvette's eyes grew as small as dimes and glittered with suspicion.

"What have you been keeping secret?" Yvette said. "Someone visit you in the swamps?"

I reddened.

"Someone has!" Evelyn declared. "Look at her."

"No." Butterflies beat small wings of panic in my stomach.

"Who was it?"

"What did you do, Gabrielle Landry?"

"We always tell you everything that we've done," Yvette said petulantly.

"Nothing.we’ve done nothing," I insisted.

They laughed.

"Liar."

"You better tell us, Gabrielle Landry or . . ."

"Or we'll make something up and tell everyone tomorrow before graduation," Evelyn announced. Yvette nodded, happy for the plan. "We'll claim you told us in secret. Everyone will believe us because they know we're friends and we talk on the way home from school every day."

"That's right," Yvette said. "If we both swear to it, everyone will believe it."

"But there's nothing to tell. I . . ."

"What?" Yvette demanded. She put her hands on her hips. Evelyn stared, anticipating. I took a deep breath. If they spread rumors about me tomorrow, they could ruin graduation for Mama.

"All right, I'll tell you, but you've got to swear to keep it secret."

"We'll swear," Yvette said.

"On Saint Medad. Swear."

They did and crossed their hearts.

"Well?" Evelyn said.

"Sometimes in the afternoon I pole my pirogue deep into the swamp to a small pond I've found. No one else ever goes there. I take off my clothes and go swimming."

"Naked?" Yvette said, her eyes widening. I nodded. They drew closer to me.

"What happened?" Evelyn asked breathlessly.

"One afternoon about a week ago, I was sunning myself at the pond and this handsome young man came poling along. I didn't hear him."

Yvette's mouth opened.

"You were naked when he appeared?" Evelyn asked. I nodded. They held their breaths.

"I opened my eyes and found him staring down at me and smiling. I was terribly embarrassed, of course, and reached for my dress. But he . ."

"What?"

"Sat on it."

"No!"

"What did you do?" Evelyn asked.

"I said, 'please, monsieur, you have me at an unfair advantage.' He agreed."

"And gave you your dress?"

"No. He took off his clothes so he would be naked, too."

"You're lying," Evelyn said.

"You asked me to tell you. You swore you would keep it a secret. I'm telling you and you're calling me a liar," I said. "I kept my part of the bargain." I started to turn away.

"I believe you," Yvette declared. "Tell us the rest." I hesitated.

"All right. I do believe you," Evelyn relented.

"Go on."

"He was very polite. We spoke softly. He had the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen. I think he hypnotized me with those eyes. In fact, I'm sure he did."

"What do you mean?"

"The next thing I knew, he was kissing me."

"And he touched you?"

"Everywhere," I said. "I couldn't resist."

"And then?" Yvette said with impatience.

"I don't know. I just . . . woke up and he was gone."

"Gone?" Evelyn grimaced with disappointment. "You must have just dreamt it, fantasized," she added contemptuously.

"No, I know I didn't dream it. He had left a beautiful red rose at my side."

"A red rose? In the swamp?" Evelyn asked, smirking.

"That's how I knew I hadn't dreamt it."

The two studied me a moment in silence.

"All right. So what did you do then?" Yvette asked.

"I was so frightened I got dressed and went home as fast as I could. I told my mother."

"You did? Everything?"

"Of course."

Evelyn was impressed. "What did she say?"

"She asked me to describe the young man, and after I had, she sat down with a look on her face like I had never seen. She was quiet for the longest time. Finally I asked her what was wrong, and she then told me the story of the young fisherman who was thought to be the handsomest young man in the bayou. She said young women would swoon at the sight of him, but she said he was too handsome for a man to be and he knew it. No one was more arrogant about his looks.

"One day he went into the swamps to fish and never returned."

"Are you saying your mother said the man who kissed you was a ghost?" Yvette asked. I nodded.

"It's why I never heard him approaching. He glided on the air, I think."

Neither Yvette nor Evelyn spoke for a moment.

"Did he feel like a ghost when he kissed you?" Evelyn inquired skeptically.

"No. He felt real, very real."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"No, but sometimes I think I sense him."

"You still go out alone?" Yvette asked, incredulous. "Yes. He didn't hurt me. Mama says he's a lonely soul.

Punished for being too much like a Greek god. The story she remembers from her grandmère is, the day he finds someone who can see the goodness in his heart and love him for that and not for his good looks, that's the day he can return to the world to live out his life, but . . ."

"But what?" Evelyn asked.

"Yes, but what?" Yvette followed.

"But whoever does love him that way dies and takes his place in the swamp. It's sort of an exchange of souls for a while."

"How horrible."

"And dangerous," Yvette said. "You had better not go into the swamp alone so much."

"I don't," I said. "As much."

"I don't know if that counts," Evelyn declared after a moment's thought. "Kissed by a ghost isn't the same thing as being kissed by a live man."

"How do you know?" Yvette said. "Only Gabrielle knows for sure."

"It felt wonderful at the time," I replied. "Now, remember. You swore on Saint Medad, and if you violate this oath, you might bring bad luck to your husbands."

They were wide-eyed. The daughter of a traiteur had some credibility when it came to this sort of thing.

"I'll never tell," Yvette said.

"Me neither."

"I got to go home. See you tomorrow."

"Oui. See you tomorrow," Evelyn said.

I watched them hurry off and then continued down the road. In my heart I wished that what had happened to me yesterday was what I had described to them. It was my fantasy, and for a while at least, I would use it to cloak the ugly truth.

When I arrived home, I found Mama doing just what I feared she would be doing: slaving over the stove, chaining herself to the kitchen to prepare for my graduation celebration. She told me she had already sent word to a dozen of her friends and people she often treated.

"Some are offering to make food, too. It's going to be a great party, honey. We'll have music and loads of good food."

"I wish you wouldn't do this, Mama."

"Let's not start that again. It's my time in the sun and it should be your father's time, too."

"Has he been home?"

"Not that I know," she replied, and dove into her labor of love to keep from thinking and being angry. Seeing I was not going to change her mind, I offered to help, but she refused to permit it.

"It's your party. You earned it; you just enjoy yourself," she insisted. I couldn't stand by and watch her work, so I went out to our dock and sat with my feet dangling in the water, watching and hoping for the sight of Daddy poling his pirogue up the canal to home. But he never came. At dinner Mama was mumbling to herself something awful.

"That man has gone bad, gone sour like warm milk. Nothing's going to change him. He'll be the death of all of us. Truth is, I hope he never comes home," she declared, but I knew she was heartbroken about it. She sat on the galerie in her rocker after dinner and glared at the darkness, waiting for one of those shadows to take Daddy's form.

I put the finishing touches on my graduation dress and put it on to show Mama. She shook her head and smiled.

"You're so beautiful, Gabrielle, it makes my heart pound."

"Oh, Mama, I'm not. And besides, you told me dozens of times that pride's a sin."

"You don't have to go overboard and fall in love with yourself, but you can be thankful and happy you've been blessed with such natural beauty. You don't understand," she added when I looked down and blushed. "You're my redemption. When I look at you, at least I can feel something good came out of my marriage to that scoundrel we call your daddy."

I looked up sharply. "He tries to be good, doesn't he, Mama? He thinks about it."

"The most I can say for him, honey, is it's beyond him. It's in his blood. The Landrys were probably first cousins to Cain." She sighed. "I got no one to blame but myself for the pot I'm boiling in," she said.

"But if the Landry blood is so powerful and evil, won't I be evil, too, Mama?" I asked fearfully.

"No," she said quickly. "You got my blood in you, too, don'tcha?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Well, my blood overpowers even the wicked Landry blood." She took my hand into hers and drew me closer so her eyes could look deeply into mine. "When evil thoughts come to mind, you think of me, honey, and my blood will come rushing over those thoughts, drowning them. If it don't . . ."

"Yes, Mama?"

"Then maybe what you're thinking ain't so evil after all," she said. Then she took a deep breath as if the advice had drained her of the little energy that remained after so hard a day of cooking and baking. She also did a lot of cleaning around the shack so it would look as presentable as possible to our guests tomorrow.

"You're tired, Mama. You should go to sleep."

"Oui. I should," she admitted. She sighed, gazed into the darkness for a moment, her gaze sliding over the shadows in search of Daddy, and then she rose with great effort. We went into the shack together and upstairs.

"Tonight's the last night you go to bed a little girl," Mama told me after I got into bed. She sat at my feet for a few moments. "Tomorrow you graduate. You're a young woman now." She started to hum a Cajun lullaby, one she used to sing to me when I was a little girl.

"Mama?"

"Yes, honey."

"Before you met Daddy, did you have any other boyfriends?"

"I had a number of young men on my tail," she said, smiling. "My father would shoo them away like flies."

"But . . . did any of them become your boyfriend?"

"Oh, I had my little romances."

"Did you . . ."

"Did I what, honey?"

"Did you kiss and do things with the other boys?"

"What kind of a question to ask is that, Gabrielle?" she said, pulling her shoulders up. She held a small smile, however.

"I just wondered if that was what was supposed to be."

"Kissing and things is supposed to be, if that's what you mean, but you got to remember what I told you my grandmère told me: 'Sex, Catherine,' she used to say, 'is just Nature's little trick to bring the two people right for each other together.' "

"What if people who aren't right for each other have sex?" I pursued, speaking softly, afraid that if I spoke too loudly or too fast, the magic moment during which Mama would tell me intimate things would burst and be gone.

"Well then, it's just sex. It might make them feel good for the moment, but afterward," she said with a scowl, "they'll feel they lost a little of something precious, something of themselves. That's what I believe. I suppose," she added, raising her right eyebrow, "your girlfriends would laugh at that, n'est-ce pas?"

"I don't know, Mama. I don't care what they think."

She stared at me a moment. "You want to tell me something, Gabrielle, something gnawing at your insides?"

The words were on my tongue, but I swallowed them back.

"No, Mama. I just wondered, that's all."

She nodded. "Just natural. Trust your instincts," she said. "You got good ones. Well, good night, Miss Graduate," she said, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. I held on to her a bit longer than I should have, and Mama's eyebrows went up again, her eyes sharp and small.

"I'm always willing to listen and help you, honey. Don't ever forget that," she said.

"I know, Mama. Good night."

"Good night," she said, and got up even though I sensed she wanted to remain there until I told her what was behind my dark eyes.

I thought about Mama's words and wondered what part of myself I had left in the swamp. My worrying caused something hard and heavy to grow in my chest, making it ache. I put my palms together under my chin, closed my eyes, and prayed.

"Please, dear God," I muttered, "forgive me if I did anything to cause this evil thing to happen to me."

I tried to throw off the dreary feelings. Fatigue closed my eyes, but sleep was driven back by my tossing and turning. Anticipating the excitement of tomorrow, worrying about what had happened, worrying about Daddy and about Mama, kept me wide awake until the wee hours of the morning. The sun was actually turning the inky sky into a shade of red slate when I finally drifted into a deep repose. I woke to Mama's shaking the bed.

"Gabrielle, you can't oversleep this morning!" she said, laughing.

"Oh. Oh, what time is it?" I looked at the clock and leaped out of bed.

We were getting our final report cards, turning in our books, saying our good-byes today, the last day of school.

"Go wash the sleep out of that face in the rain barrel," Mama ordered. "I'll have some breakfast for you."

"Did Daddy come home?" I asked.

"No. You would have smelled him if he had," she offered, and went down to make breakfast.

I washed my face in the rainwater, brushed my hair, and put on my clothes. Mama was mumbling about all the things she was still going to do in preparation for my graduation party. Every once in a while she would break to complain about Daddy.

"He better be back here today and make himself presentable for the ceremony," she warned.

"He will, Mama. I'm sure."

"You have faith in everyone and everything," Mama said. "You'd even give a snapping turtle a second chance."

I couldn't help it. Today, of all days, I wanted to think only good and happy thoughts.

There was a storm of excitement at school: torrents of laughter and giggling, smiles raining down over us, our hearts thumping like thunder. The classrooms only calmed down when Mr. Pitot visited them. Everyone sat with his or her hands folded, backs straight as we were taught, eyes forward. Some chairs squeaked.

Mr. Pitot congratulated us on a fine year, complimented the students who maintained high grades and who never misbehaved. He warned us about our behavior at the ceremonies.

"The public will be our guests. Parents, family members, friends, will all have their eyes on you, on us. It is incumbent upon us to put on our best faces."

I turned and saw Jacques Bascomb put his tongue under his upper lip so he resembled a monkey. It was hard to believe that some of the boys in my class would be out working and raising families in less than a year's time.

School ended after the morning session so we could all go home and get into our graduation clothes. When I arrived and found Mama setting up tables for our guests outside, I knew Daddy had not returned yet.

"Mama, this is too much for you to do by yourself," I complained.

"It's all right; honey. I'm fine. When you have your heart soaking in happiness, you don't feel the labor."

"But afterward you will," I chastised.

"Listen to you," she said, standing back with her hands on her small hips. "Just graduated and already bossy."

"I'm not being bossy. I'm being sensible, Mama."

"I know, honey. Okay. I'll wait for help 'fore I do anything heavy. That's a promise," she said. I hoped she would keep it. I saw the palms of her hands were red from lifting and sliding the tables and chairs. Where was Daddy? How could he be so inconsiderate?

I went inside and after eating only half of the po'boy sandwich Mama had prepared for my lunch, I got into my dress and fixed my hair again. Then I went outside and sat on the galerie, waiting for the time to pass and hoping to see my daddy come walking up to the house, full of apologies, but eager to help make this one of the happiest days of our lives.

He never showed.

Mama put on her best dress and brushed and pinned her hair. We stalled and waited as long as we could. Finally she emerged, her face burning with fury, those eyes ready to sear through Daddy's and set his soul on fire.

"Let's go, honey. We don't want you to be late," she said.

I didn't mention Daddy. We both started down the road. When we joined the Thibodeaus and Livaudises, they asked about Daddy.

"He'll meet us at the festivities," Mama said, but anyone could see that shadows had come to darken and pain Mama's happiness. No one asked why. They all looked at each other and knew the answer anyway.

There was a big crowd at the school by the time we arrived. Yvette, Evelyn, and I hurried into the building to put on our graduation gowns and caps and get into place. Mr. Ternant was as nervous as a gray squirrel, marching up and down the corridor, repeating the same orders, his head bobbing, his hands fluttering like two range chickens spooked by a fox. Finally we heard the first notes from Mrs. Parlange's piano and then Mr. Pitot's accordion. Everyone grew quiet.

"Attention," Mr. Ternant said, holding his right hand up like a general leading his troops to battle. The processional began and his arm lowered, his fingers pointing forward. "Begin!"

We got into step and trailed out to the stage. It seemed brighter than ever, the sun glistening off every shiny surface. Parents and family strained their necks like, egrets to get views of their graduates. Cameras were clicking, babies were crying. I gazed at Mrs. Parlange and saw she was playing the piano as if she were in a concert hall, looking neither to the right or to the left.

Remarkably, we all wove in and out of the aisles of seats to our own and sat orderly when the processional ended. After we were all seated, Mr. Pitot stepped on the stage beside the dignitaries. He gazed at us and then nodded his satisfaction before approaching the microphone. The ceremony, my graduation, was about to begin.

I searched the audience until I spotted Mama. She had kept a seat beside her, but it was empty. My heart sunk. How could Daddy miss my graduation? Please, please, dear God, I prayed, don't let him miss it.

And then my gaze shifted to the right and I saw Monsieur Tate. He was in the first row beside his wife. His eyes were fixed on me, his lips pressed tightly together. The unexpected sight of him put my heart into triple time and took my breath away. I looked at Gladys Tate to see if she noticed how he was staring at me, but she looked like she was bored.

She was very elegantly dressed, however, and had her hair cut and styled, with bubbles of pearls in her ears and around her neck. Gladys Tate was one of the more attractive women in our town. She had a regal stature and always walked and spoke with an air of superiority.

I looked away quickly, closed my eyes and caught my breath.

After Mr. Pitot and Mrs. Parlange played two numbers, Mr. Pitot returned to the stage and made a small speech about us all graduating at one of the most important times in history. He said we had a country to rebuild as soon as the war ended, and because so many young men were away and killed, we had more responsibilities. His words frightened me a bit and made me feel a little guilty about not doing something more with my life. Maybe I should have become a nurse, I thought.

After Mr. Pitot's speech, Theresa Rousseau, our salutatorian, got up and made her speech, followed by the valedictorian, Jane Crump, who had never missed a day of school or gotten a grade lower than ninety-five on a test. She was a short, plump girl with glasses so thick they looked like goggles, but her father was president of the bank and everyone expected he would find her a suitable husband after she had gone to college to become a teacher herself.

Finally it was time to distribute the diplomas. I had been sitting there, twisting my hands together as if I had a roll of yarn in them, afraid to look at Mama and terrified of looking to the right and seeing Mr. and Mrs. Tate. But when I did look at Mama this time, my heart jumped.

There was Daddy sitting beside her, his hair wet and brushed, his best shirt and pants on. He had even shaved. But Mama was not smiling. Daddy was, beaming, and waving at me so much, I had to wave back to stop him from embarrassing Mama. Mr. Pitot began to call out the names of the graduates. My heart began to thump against my chest. I thought for sure when I stood up, my legs would turn to butter and I would sink to the stage floor.

"Gabrielle Landry," Mr. Pitot cried out.

I rose, knowing all eyes were on me, the eyes of Mama's friends and people who respected and thought highly of her, the eyes of those who thought I was La Fille au Nature, and the eyes of Octavious Tate. I couldn't help but glance his way once. He had a small smile on his lips. Gladys Tate was gazing up at me with some interest.

Just as I reached for my diploma, Daddy jumped up in the audience and shouted.

"That there's my daughter, the first Landry to graduate school! Hal-le-luja!"

There was a roar of laughter. I felt my stomach sink to my knees. I turned and saw Mama tugging on Daddy's shirt to get him to sit down. Tears blinded my vision. I took my diploma quickly and ran off the stage and into the school building to escape the laughing eyes. I was supposed to go back to my seat and march away with my class, but I couldn't do it, and it wasn't only because of Daddy's outburst.

Monsieur Tate's eyes had burned through my graduation gown. I had felt naked on that stage, naked and obviously violated. I had felt as if everyone in Houma could see what had happened to me. I ran down the corridor and into the girls' bathroom where I sat on a closed toilet seat and cried, my diploma in my hands. Moments later, Mrs. Parlange came rushing in after me.

"What are you doing? Mr. Ternant is having heart failure out there. You're supposed to go back to your seat and leave the stage with your class. You knew that, Gabrielle. Why are you crying?" she followed, as if she first opened her eyes and saw me.

"I can't go back, Mrs. Parlange. I can't. I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Mr. Ternant later."

"Oh, my dear. Dear, dear," she said, waving her right hand back and forth to fan her face. Bewilderment clouded her expression. "This has never happened before. I really don't know what to do."

"I'm sorry," I wailed.

"Yes, well, yes," she said, and walked out on tiptoes.

I choked back my sobs, feeling as if I had cried dry that bottomless well of tears. Then I took a deep breath and looked at my diploma. How proud Mama was of me and how sick to her stomach she must be right now, too, I thought. I sat there, not sure of what I should do next. My heart stopped racing, finally, and I rose. When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I saw a face flushed and streaked with dry tears. I washed and dried it, took another deep breath, and walked out just as the processional to take the students off the stage had begun. I was at the doorway when they began to enter.

"What happened to you?" Yvette demanded.

"You made a fool out of the whole class," Evelyn said. "What you do, see your ghost boyfriend?"

"What ghost boyfriend?" Patti Arnot asked, which brought a half dozen others around us quickly.

"You'll have to ask her," Evelyn said. "I'm disgusted with her behavior."

"Me too," Yvette said.

It was as if I had broken out with measles. Everyone kept away from me. I retreated to a corner and took off my graduation gown and cap, just as Mr. Tennant came looking for me.

"You graduated," he said angrily before I could apologize, "so I can't punish you, put you on detention, or have you wash blackboards until your fingers turn blue, but what you did out there embarrassed us all, young lady."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, my eyes down.

"Why did you do such a thing?"

I didn't reply except to say, "I'm sorry."

"Well, it's not a very auspicious way to begin your adult life. I'll take that," he said, seizing the box that contained my gown and cap. "Who knows what you'll do next, and these things are expensive."

He pivoted and marched off. Everyone who heard was glaring at me. Defeat seemed all around me.

I looked away and started for the exit.

"She should have graduated in the swamp with her animal friends instead of us," someone shouted, and everyone laughed. I emerged from the laughter like someone drowning in a murky pool and hurried outside where I found Mama, worried, waiting. Daddy was off to the right shouting at someone who had passed a remark about me.

"I'm sorry, Mama," I said before she could ask why I had run off the stage.

"It's all right, honey. Let's go before your father gets arrested again. Jack!" she cried. He stopped shouting, his fist dangling above him, and looked at us. Then he glared at the man with whom he was arguing.

"Lucky for you I gotta go," he spat.

When he joined us, I realized quickly why Mama had been sitting with a gray face beside him. He reeked of whiskey, despite his clean appearance.

"Why'd you run off like that, Gabrielle?" he asked. "Some of these people think you're as mad as a rabid dog."

"Why do you think she run off?" Mama snapped. "The way you behaved, screaming out like that, everyone laughing at you."

"Is that why? I was just proud, is all. Can't a man be proud of his daughter anymore?"

"Proud's proud, being a fool is just being a fool," Mama replied.

"Aaa, who cares what these stuffy folks think anyway. You looked great up there, Gabrielle. Let's go celebrate."

"Figures you'd get home in time for that, Jack Landry," Mama said.

"Quit whippin' me, woman. A man can take only so much before he explodes."

Mama flicked him a scathing glance. He looked away quickly and fell behind us as we trekked toward home and the party Mama had prepared all by herself.

Fewer people attended than Mama had expected, and none of my classmates appeared. I knew it was because of my behavior and I felt just terrible about it, but Mama wouldn't be discouraged, nor would she permit a single sad face. Her food and the food her friends brought was wonderful. The men and especially Daddy had plenty of homemade whiskey to drink. The Rice brothers provided the music. They played the fiddle, the accordion, and the washboard. People danced and ate until long after nightfall. Every time someone started to leave, Daddy would jump up and grab him by the elbow, urging him to stay.

"The night's young," he declared. "We got lots to drink and eat yet. Laissez les bon temps rouler! Let the good times roll."

I never saw him so excited and happy. He danced one jig after another, dragged Mama out to do the two-step, performed somersaults and handstands, and challenged every man to Indian wrestle.

People ate and scraped their plates clean. The women helped Mama clean up. No one bothered me about what happened at graduation, but most had some sort of advice or another when they stopped to wish me good luck.

"Don't be in a hurry to go and get married. Marry the right man."

"Think about getting a job in the cannery, maybe."

"If I were your age, I'd go to N'orleans and find work, or try to get a job on a steamboat."

"Raise a family when you're young so you're not too old to enjoy life when they finally up and leave."

I thanked everyone. Daddy drank himself into a stupor and fell asleep in the hammock, his arm dangling, his snoring so loud, we could hear him clear across the yard.

"I'm just going to leave him out there," Mama told her friends. "Won't be the first time; won't be the last."

They nodded and went their way. When everyone was gone, I sat with Mama on the galerie for a while. Daddy was still sawing trees in the hammock.

"It was a wonderful party, Mama. But now you're so exhausted."

"It's a good exhaustion. When you do a labor of love, it don't matter how tired you get, honey. The pleasure soothes you and eases you into a restful sleep. It's just too bad your father came soaked with whiskey to your ceremony and embarrassed you that way. It near broke my heart to see you rush off that stage."

"I'm sorry I did that, Mama."

"It's all right. Most people understood."

I had the greatest urge to explain to her why it wasn't just what Daddy had done. I would begin by telling her about Monsieur Tate's eyes on me and then .

But I just couldn't get the words up from the bottom of the trunk I had buried them in.

Mama stood up, gazed at Daddy for a moment, shook her head, and started to go into the house.

"You coming, Gabrielle?"

"In a while, Mama."

"Don't think you're not exhausted too, honey," she warned.

"Oh, I know I am, Mama."

She smiled and we hugged.

"I'm darn proud of you, sweetheart. Darn proud."

"Thank you, Mama."

She went in and I stepped off the galerie and walked around to the dock. I took off my moccasins to dip my feet in the water and sat there for a while, listening to the cicadas and the occasional hoot of an owl. From time to time I heard a splash and saw the moonlight glimmer off the back of a gator sliding along the oily surface of the water and into the shadows.

I stared into the swamp, fixing my eyes on the inky darkness, and I wished and wished until I thought I saw him . . . the handsome young Cajun ghost. He was floating over the water and beckoning to me, tempting me.

If there really was a handsome young man haunting the swamps, I thought, I could forget the terrible thing that had happened to me. I'd even be willing to fall in love with him the way I had described to Yvette and Evelyn, and exchange my soul with his. I'd rather be a ghost, floating along through eternity, than a violated young woman right now, I thought.

His smile faded in the darkness and became a group of fireflies dancing madly around each other.

All the magic of this day evaporated. The stars seemed to shrink away, and dark clouds slid from behind silvery ones and chased away the moon.

I sighed, got up, and walked back to the house, not full of hope and dreams for tomorrow, as I should be, but weighed down, soaked with terror about the days to come.

Did I have a little of Mama's clairvoyance? I hoped not. I hoped I was just tired.