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Mama in her wisdom saw me moping about the
grounds, drifting rather than walking along the banks
of the canals, and knew what was making me pale and
wan. Often she had to say something to me twice
because I didn't hear her the first time; I was too lost
in my own thoughts. I played with my food and stared
blankly while she and Daddy talked and argued at the
dinner table. Mama said I was losing weight, too. She tried to keep me busy, giving me more to
do, filling my every quiet moment with another chore,
but it took me double the time to do anything, which
only exasperated her more.
"You're like a lovesick duck, Gabriel," she told
me one afternoon. "Get hold of yourself before you
fade away or get blown off in of our famous twisters,
hear?"
"Yes, Mama."
She sighed, troubled for me.
But I couldn't just forget Pierre. Whenever
Daddy talked about a new booking for a hunting tour,
I would listen keenly to see if it was the Dumas
family; but it never was. Finally one day I went down
to the dock where he was preparing for another trip
and asked him.
"I thought that rich man from New Orleans was
returning, Daddy. His son told me his father thought
you were a wonderful swamp guide."
"Rich family? Oh, you mean Dumas? OW, he
was supposed to be back, but he canceled on me two
days ago. You can't depend on them people. They lie
to your face, smiling. My motto is, take whatever I
