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He stared at me, his mouth open, his eyes wide. "Start eating," Lyle said. "Pretend it's business
as usual."
I did as he advised and Uncle Jean did appear to
relax. He lifted his fork, but continued to stare at me
instead of continuing to eat. I smiled at him. "I lived with my grandmere Catherine all my
life," I told him. "My mother died shortly after I was
born. I never knew who my real father was until recently and I promised my grandmere Catherine I
would go to him after she died.
"You can't imagine how surprised everyone
was," I said. He started to smile.
"Terrific," Lyle whispered. "He likes you." "Does he?"
"I can tell. Keep talking," he commanded in a
whisper.
"I tried to adjust, to learn how to be a proper
young Creole lady, but Gisselle was very jealous of
me. She thought I stole her boyfriend and she plotted
against me."
"Did you?" Lyle asked.
"Did I what?"
"Steal her boyfriend?"
"No. At least I didn't set out to do anything like
that," I said.
"But he liked you more than he liked her?" Lyle
pursued.
"It was her own fault. I don't know how anyone
could like her. She lies; she likes to see people suffer,
and she'll deceive anyone, even herself."
"She sounds like she's the one who belongs in
here," he said.
I turned back to Uncle Jean.
