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"Why, thank you, Ruby. That's my only grandchild, you know," he told Father Rush. I snapped my head around sharply and glared at Grandpere. For a moment his eyes twinkled with that impish look and then he smiled and looked away, either not sensing or seeing what I knew or not caring about it. "She's all I got now," he continued. "Only family left. I got to look after her."
"And how do you expect to do that?" Mrs. Livaudis demanded. "You barely look after yourself, Jack Landry."
"I know what I do and I don't.
A man can change, can't he? If something tragic like this occurs, a man can change. Can't he, Father? Ain't that so?"
"If it's truly in his heart to repent, anyone can," Father Rush replied, closing his eyes and pressing his hands together as if he were about to offer up a prayer to that effect.
"Hear that and that's a priest talking, not some gossip mouth," Grandpere said, nodding and poking the air between him and Mrs. Livaudis with his thick, long and dirty finger. "I got responsibilities now. . . a place to keep up, a granddaughter to see after, and I'm one to do what I say I'm goin' to do, when I say it."
"If you remember you've said it," Mrs. Thibodeau snapped. She was giving him no ground.
Grandpere smirked.
"Yeah, well, I'll remember. I'll remember," he repeated. He threw another look Grandmere Catherine's way, again as if he wanted to be sure she wasn't going to start screaming at him, and then he followed me out to the kitchen to get something to eat. He plopped his long, lanky body into a kitchen chair and dropped his hat on the floor. Then he looked around as I stirred up the gumbo and ladled a bowl for him.
"Ain't been in this house so long, it's like a strange place to me," he said. "And I built it myself!" I poured him a cup of coffee and then stepped back, folding my arms under my bosom and watching him go at the gumbo, shoving mouthful after mouthful in and swallowing with hardly a chew, the rice and roux running down his chin.
"When was the last time you ate something, Grandpere?" I asked. He paused for a moment and thought.
"I don't know. . . two days ago, I had some shrimp. Or was it some oysters?" He shrugged and continued to gulp his food. "But things are going to change for me now," he said, nodding between swallows. "I'm going to clean myself up, move back into my home, and have my granddaughter take care of me right and proper, and I'm going to do the same for her," he vowed.
"I can't believe Grandmere is actually dead and gone, Grandpere," I said, the tears choking my throat. He gulped some food and nodded.
"Me neither. I would have sworn on a stack of wild deuces that I'd go before she did. I thought that woman would outlive most of the world; she had that much grit in her. She was like some old tree root, just clinging to the things she believed in. I couldn't move her with a herd of elephants, not an inch off her ways."
"Nor could she move you, Grandpere," I quickly replied. He shrugged.
"Well, I'm just a stupid old Cajun trapper, too dumb to know right from wrong, yet I manage to survive. But I meant what I said out there, Ruby. I'm goin' to change somethin' awful and make things right for you. I swear it," he said, holding up his right palm, blotched with grime, the finger ends stained with tobacco. His deeply serious expression dissolved into a smile. "Could you give me another bowl of this. Ain't ate somethin' this good for ages. Beats the hell out of my swamp guk," he said, and chuckled to himself, a slight whistle coming through the gaps in his teeth as his shoulders shook.
I gave him some more and then I excused myself and went back to sit beside the coffin. I didn't like being away from Grandmere Catherine's side too long. Toward evening, some of Grandpere Jack's swamp cronies arrived supposedly to offer comfort and sympathy, but they were soon all going around behind the house to drink some whiskey and smoke their rolled, dark brown cigarettes.
Father Rush, Mrs. Thibodeau, and Mrs. Livaudis remained as long as they could and then promised to return early in the morning.
"You try to get yourself some rest, Ruby dear," Mrs. Thibodeau advised. "You're going to need your strength for the difficult days ahead."
"Your grandmere would be right proud of you, Ruby," Mrs. Livaudis added, squeezing my hand gently. "Now look after yourself."
Mrs. Thibodeau raised her eyes and gazed toward the rear of the house where the laughter was growing louder by the minute.
"If you need us, you just holler," she said.
"You're always welcome at my house," Mrs. Livaudis added before leaving.
Grandmere Catherine's friends and some of the neighbors had cleaned up and had put everything away before they had left. There was nothing for me to do but kiss Grandmere Catherine good night and go to sleep myself. I heard Grandpere Jack and his trapper friends howl and laugh long into the night. In a way I was grateful for the noise. I lay awake for hours, wondering if there was anything else I could have done to have helped Grandmere Catherine, but then I thought, if she couldn't help herself, what could I do?
Finally, my eyelids became so heavy, I had to let them close. Someone was laughing in the darkness. I heard what sounded like Grandpere's howl and then all was still; and sleep, like one of Grandmere Catherine's miracle medicines, brought me some hours of relief and eased the pain in my heart. In fact, when I awoke early the next morning, I felt so relieved from my deep repose, that for a few moments, I actually believed all that had happened had been some terrible nightmare. In moments, I expected to hear Grandmere Catherine's footsteps as she made her way down to the kitchen to start our breakfast.
But I heard nothing but the soft, sweet sounds of the morning birds. Slowly, the reality of what had occurred settled in again and I sat up, wondering where Grandpere Jack had slept when he had finally stopped cavorting with his trapper friends. When I discovered he wasn't in Grandmere Catherine's room, I thought he might have gone back into the swamp; but when I went down, I found him sprawled out on the galerie, one leg dangling over the edge of the porch floor, his head on his rolled up jacket, an empty bottle of cheap whiskey still clutched in his right hand.
"Grandpere," I said, nudging him. "Grandpere, wake up."
"Huh?" His eyes flickered open and then shut. I shook him harder.
"Grandpere, wake up. People will be arriving here any moment. Grandpere."
"What? What's that?" He kept his eyes open long enough to focus on me and then groaned and folded his body into a sitting position. "What the. . ." He looked around, saw the expression of
