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"Well, I must confess I haven't seen much of it, nor have I enjoyed the hunting trips. Perhaps," he added, "if you have the time, you would give me a little tour. Show me why you think it's so nice here."
"But your headache, monsieur," I reminded him.
"It seems to have eased quite a bit. I think I was just nervous about going hunting. I would pay you for your tour, of course," he added.
"I wouldn't charge you, monsieur. What is it you would like me to show you?"
"Show me what you think is beautiful, what gives you this rich look of happiness and fills your face with a glow I know most of the fancy women in New Orleans would die to have."
I felt my cheeks turn crimson. "Please, monsieur, don't tease me."
"I assure you," he said, standing firm, his shoulders back, "I mean every word I say. How about the tour?"
I hesitated.
"It doesn't have to be long. I don't mean to take you away from your work."
"Let me tell my mother," I said, "and then we'll go for a walk along the bank of the canal."
"Merci."
I hurried to the shack to tell Mama what the young man wanted. She thought for a moment.
"Young men from the city often have low opinions of the girls from the bayou, Gabriel. You understand?"
"Oui, Mama, but I don't think this is true about this young man."
"Be careful and don't be long," she warned. "I haven't looked at him long enough to get a reading."
"I'll be safe, Mama," I assured her.
Pierre was standing with his hands behind his back, gazing over the water.
"I just saw a rather large bird disappear just behind those treetops," he said, pointing.
"It's a marsh hawk, monsieur. If you look more closely, you will see she has a nest there."
"Oh?" He stared. "Oui. I do see it now," he added excitedly.
"The swamp is like a book of philosophy, monsieur. You have to read it, think about it, stare at it, and let it sink in before you realize all that's there."
His eyebrows rose. "You read philosophy?"
"A little, but not as much as I did when I was in school."
"How long ago was that?"
"Three years."
"You're an intriguing woman, Gabriel Landry," he said.
Once again I felt the heat rise up my neck and into my face. "This way, monsieur," I said, pointing to the path through the tall grass. He followed beside me. "What do you do, monsieur?"
"I work for my father in our real estate development business. Nothing terribly exciting. We buy and sell property, lease buildings, develop projects. Soon there will be a need for low-income housing, and we want to be ready for it," he added.
"There's some very low-income housing," I said, pointing to the grass dome at the edge of the shore. A nutria poked out its head, spotted us, and recoiled. Pierre laughed. I reached out and touched his hand to indicate we should stop.
"What?"
