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"But you are married, Pierre. And you've just finished telling me how you were painfully reminded of that fact, n 'est-ce pas?"
He stopped smiling. "That won't make any difference. Our child will have everything he or she needs," he vowed. "I'll build you your own house. I'll provide everything: clothes, money, private tutors, nannies. You name it and it's yours," he declared zealously.
"But, Pierre, if Daphne has had you followed and investigated, she will surely learn about all that quickly."
"What of it?" he snapped. "Daphne would never reveal such a thing. She would die of shame. Don't worry," he assured me with a cool, wry smile. "I know my wife."
"Mama will be furious with me," I wailed. How could he not realize the hardships and pain I would endure?
"I'll retire her and your father for life. I'm a wealthy man, Gabriel. Money will provide the answers to all and any problem. You'll see," he predicted. He thought a moment. "When are you going to tell your mother?"
"Tonight," I said. "I can't keep it a secret any longer."
He nodded. "All right. I was going to leave early in the morning, but I'll wait right here until you return to tell me what she has said and what she wants you to do. If you want, I'll go to see her."
"I'm afraid to tell her," I wailed. "After all her warnings, I let this happen."
"Because you wanted it to happen. I know I did," he confessed.
"You really did?"
"Yes. You don't know what it's been like for me thinking I might never have a child of my own. It's wonderful," he declared again, and jumped up to pour us glasses of wine for a toast. His exuberance overwhelmed me and made me question my own fears and doubts.
"We will have this private, secret life forever and ever," he promised. "Don't look so skeptical," he added, laughing. "It's almost a tradition for us Creoles, you know."
"What is?"
"Being married yet having the woman you really love as well. My father had a mistress and so did my grandfather. But," he said quickly, "you are more than a mistress. You are my true love. Don't worry. We'll take it a step at a time. First, we'll have our child. Then I will quietly build you a new home, a decent home for our child. You will have all the money you need so you will have only to raise our child. Sometimes," he continued, planning our dream life, "you will come to New Orleans and stay at the best hotels. We'll take trips to Europe, and when our child is old enough, we'll put him or her in the finest private school."
I stared at him. Could all this really be?
"Now," he said, kneeling at my feet and taking my hands into his, "how are you feeling? Do you want me to bring a doctor next time?"
"A doctor?" I laughed. "Mama is ten times better than any doctor. Don't forget she's delive
red my baby before," I reminded him.
He closed his eyes. "That's not the same thing. This is a baby born out of love, a baby we want."
Although he didn't mean them to be, his words were like tiny arrows piercing my heart. I cried for little Paul and couldn't imagine any child more precious or beautiful than he was. I couldn't imagine loving a baby more.
"But if you feel confident, I feel confident," he said, and began to pace again as he thought aloud. "Of course, I'll try to visit you more often, and if there is the slightest problem or complication, I'll see to it immediately. The important thing is that you feel safe and happy. My father is going to be a bit of a problem, but I will tell him all of it now."
"You will?"
He nodded. "He'll understand," he said. "I don't think it will be all that much of a surprise to him. Well, that's not for you to concern yourself with anyway. Just dote on yourself, my cherie," he said. "Shall we eat?"
"Oui, " I said, rising slowly. Already I felt twenty pounds heavier. Invisible burdens rested on my shoulders. Pierre embraced me to kiss me and reassure me. I smiled softly at him and prepared our meal. Afterward Pierre understood why I wasn't in the mood to make love. He held me and repeated his promises and elaborated on his plans. I left somewhat earlier than usual because I wanted to talk to Mama before she went to bed.
"Remember," Pierre said on the dock, "I'll be here if you need me."
"Yes. Good night."
"Good night, my secret wife," he whispered. He remained on the dock watching me glide over the water.
After I tied up the canoe, I walked to the house, and when I turned the corner, I was surprised to find Mama still on the gallery, but asleep in her rocker. Daddy's truck was there, too, but he was nowhere in sight.
For a moment I just stood there staring at her in sweet repose. Mama didn't deserve me, she didn't deserve another burden, another thing to accelerate her aging. Daddy was enough of a weight around anyone's neck. I knew no one who was as caring and loving as Mama, no one who worried about the elderly, the handicapped, the sick and the weak, as much as Mama did. She was truly a saint to her people, and what amazed everyone was how so much compassion and so much wisdom and goodness could be packed into so small a woman.
