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"Yes. It was very comforting."
"Good," he said. "Well . . . should we try to sleep again?"
"I'm sorry. I know you have to get up early and work."
"I'll be fine," he said. He stared down at me a moment longer and then started to rise, but hesitated, turned, and leaned down to kiss me again. "Just to be sure," he whispered. I saw his small smile and felt the warmest tingle travel through my breasts to my heart.
I actually was sorry when he rose and returned to the settee. I heard him settle in, and then I turned to look at him. For a moment we just stared at each other through the dim light of the kerosene lamp.
"Night," he whispered.
"Good night."
I turned over and thought for a moment before I realized why I was suddenly anxious. I patted the bed and searched with my hand.
Jack heard me moving about. "What is it, Pearl?"
"Jack," I said. "The mojo." "What about it?"
"It's gone!"
12
Hatred Is as Slow
as Poison
.
If Mommy was in the house during the night,
she was gone or well hidden by morning. Jack and I searched the studio, the kitchen, and even the pantries more vigorously than we had the first time, but there was no sign of her, and she didn't respond to my continuous calling and pleading for her to show herself.
"She's just not here," Jack finally said. "She must have gone someplace else during the night. Do you have any other ideas where she might go?"
"The only people I know are my aunt Jeanne and uncle James. My mother likes Aunt Jeanne. They've stayed in touch all these years."
"Maybe she finally went there, then. We can call them," Jack suggested.
"I'll just go see them," I said. "But I do want to call Daddy first."
"And you should eat some breakfast. You're running on an empty tank."
"I'll go into town and--"
"No, you won't. Let's go to the trailer," he insisted.
Most of the other riggers had already arrived by the time we drove over to the trailer. Heads spun and eyes widened when we got out of my car.
"Pick up a new helper, Jack?" someone shouted, and the others laughed.
"Just ignore them," Jack mumbled, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his head stiff.
When we entered the trailer, Bart LaCroix, the foreman, looked up from the small kitchen table where he was having coffee and a cruller. There was another rigger with him, a man about his age, only taller with a full head of dark brown curly hair.
"What's this?" Bart asked, surprised to see me.
"Mademoiselle Andreas has returned to continue her search for her mother," Jack explained. "It looks as if her mother was here during the night."
